Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare.
The warmth of Taki's was incredibly welcome. Clary didn't have to look in a mirror to know that her hair was frizzy, and her face was pink, clashing horribly with her red hair. At least my coat and eyes give me a Christmas theme, she thought sarcastically. She blinked several times, moistening her eyes again, due to the cold sting from the ridiculously frigid air. Kaelie, who had warmed up to her, gestured for her to sit wherever she wanted with a dismissive wave of her hand, manicured nails flashing under the lights.
Clary plunked down in a booth by the window, staring outside, and waiting for Simon's arrival. She sighed. Vampire speed or not, Simon would always be tardy. Lacing her fingers behind her head, Clary stretched, and watched the mundanes passing by, oblivious to the jail-like building with a collapsed soufflé roof. She lost herself, imagining the drawings she could do just by watching the passerby's.
"Zoning out, again?" Simon's voice startled her out of her trance. Jumping a few inches into the air, she whirled around to glare at him.
"Don't blame me for almost dying of boredom. What were you doing? Fixing your hair into the ridiculous Bieber style that those idiotic mundies are fawning over?" Clary retorted. "Which part of ʿMeet me at Taki's at noonʾ did you not understand?"
"I got all of it. I just chose to ignore the second half. And just for the record, my hair totally beats that douche's." Simon grinned smugly. "Besides, I'm not that late," her best friend remarked. Clary's only response was to look pointedly at the wall clock by Kaelie's blonde head. The clock read one o' clock.
"Not that late, my ass. Personally, I consider an hour to be rather late," Clary snorted. She signaled Kaelie to come take their orders. Her wings fluttering, their waitress drifted over; the eyebrows above her unnervingly colored eyes raised in silent question. "The usual. But with an extra large coffee." She glanced over at Simon.
"Cow blood."
Kaelie nodded; her pink stilettos clicking against the floor as she left. Clary peered at Simon, trying to determine whether the Mark of Cain had any effects on him, thus far. "Ugh. Stop. I'm not a science experiment. I realize you loved biology, back at Xavier's, but as far as I know, Nephilim don't dissect their demons after they capture them. Unless I'm wrong? Not that I ever am-"
Clary choked back a laugh that threatened to escape. She tried to imagine Isabelle in a white lab coat with dorky glasses much like Simon's before he got turned into a vampire, carefully cutting an incision down the abdomen of a Ravener. Trying to indulge in that small, but funny fantasy, before she had to return to reality. She sighed and cut off Simon's voice that was quickly becoming annoying as he drifted farther and farther into the land of droning-like-the-chem-teacher. "Can you believe that just a few months back, we had absolutely no knowledge of the Shadow World? And yet, here we are, ordering usuals from Taki's as if we've been here all along."
Her best friend was silent for an indeterminably long time. "Do you miss it?" Simon ruminated quietly.
Clary considered this question. She fiddled with the gold button on the left cuff of her green velvet coat, the gift she had gotten from Luke before she had left for Idris. "Yes and no. I miss the simplicity sometimes. I miss the nonchalance; the fact that we didn't have to worry about never seeing a friend again, as soon as they head out. But, this is who I am. I fit so much better in this life, than the previous."
Simon examined her, peering into her eyes as if she was still the mundie who wore her heart on her sleeve. As if she was never a Shadowhunter. He opened his mouth to say something, but Kaelie had come back with their orders. The two best friends nodded their thanks, before digging in, or in Simon's case, drinking up. Clary examined her grilled chicken Caesar salad. It looked tantalizing, but she already knew that. She had ordered it every lunch Alec was at Magnus's, Izzy was cooking, and Jace took her here. "How are you? What with the Mark of Cain and all," Clary returned the question.
"I'm fine. I haven't really been wandering, too much. There's been a bit more distance between the rest of the New York vampire clan and I, but we were never quite best buddies in first place." Simon's voice contained a miniscule trace of resentment that if Clary hadn't known him since they were six, she would've never heard it. His eyes stared off into the distance, almost, but not quite, focused on his empty plate. Sipping from his cup of blood, he glanced back at her. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Simon queried, referring to her text by gesturing towards his phone.
"Jace. Simon..." Clary bit her lip, her eyebrows contracting, unsure of how to continue. She looked down, twisting the silver ring with a semper rune where the stone would typically be. Jace had given it to her after they returned from Idris.
"Promise you won't leave?" Clary had asked him, her eyes beseeching with his own. They had been through too much for her to bear the thought of being without him.
"Always," he had answered simply, before slipping the ring onto her finger and pulling her into his arms. With great effort, she pulled herself out of her thoughts. The death of Alec had affected Isabelle greatly, which in turn hurt Simon more than she could've imagined. It was almost worst than when he first saw Jace and her outside her bedroom.
"Go on," Simon commanded her.
Clary exhaled, her breath coming out in a gusty sigh. Inhaling deeply, she launched into the whole story. How Jace had just left, how he hadn't even cared about all the crap they had been through. "And then I realized, that-"
"He killed Alec and led the demons to the Institute." Simon shut her up, finishing her sentence for her. "Of course, it all makes sensnow, doesn't it? Why he was so withdrawn, why everytime someone brought up Alec, he seemed so guilty. I thought he was just upset about how he treated his parabatai," Simon ranted. Clary knew better than to interrupt him when he went off like this.
"Simon, I have to see him. I just need to see him once. Besides, we could then find out what he's up to, right? Find out his motives?" Clary almost begged him. Her shoulders shook with barely contained sobs; her vision blurring due to the tears building up in her eyes. Blood pounded in her ears, and she remembered the last time she was here, sitting in that very seat, leaning across the table the way she was now. The only difference was that she had been pleading to Jace, not Simon.
"Can you handle it? Seeing him again?" Simon was worried for her. He knew her too well to think that she wouldn't listen, if he said no. So, instead he simply confirmed that Clary was ready for this next step.
"Yes. I'm sure. I tracked him earlier." She had tracked him just before she left for Taki's, using the same toy soldier that Isabelle had once used to search for the same person. Clary had stopped on the second floor, the living wing of the huge church. Normally, she would be more inconspicuous, but she had had a feeling that Izzy would've been too preoccupied to notice Clary in her messy black-and-gold painted room, a floor beneath her. Clary hadn't known the tracking rune, but then again, she hadn't known the Open rune either, when she was in the Silent City, rescuing Jace from the cells. Closing her eyes, she saw rolling hills, and ruins.
"So, you know where he is?"
Clary nodded. She scoured her bag for her stele, paper, and pen. The Clave had a bit more leniency with her now, due to the Alliance rune, which meant she could book a last minute portal trip to Idris. The fire-message was quickly devoured by the rune. Glancing at the clock once again, Clary stood, leaving a bit of money on the table. "I'm leaving now, I'll see you when we get out of this mess."
Simon's only response was to wave somberly. Clary walked about five paces, before stopping and looking over her shoulder. Guilt churned in her stomach. "Oh, I almost forgot: tell Izzy that I wish her the best." Continuing on her way out, Clary stopped before she left the restaurant. Shielding herself from mundanes with a glamour, she stepped out the door, and immediately turned into an alley. Portal, she thought. The lines flowed from her stele, snaking around the dumpster. Clary never failed to be awestruck by the beauty of a rune being created. Committing the scenery of New York to her memory one last time, knowing it could be the last time Clary ever saw it, she stepped through the portal. Almost instantly, she was in the Gard. Stepping out onto the cobblestone path, she turned to thank the Shadowhunter for not rejecting the arrival due to short notice.
Briskly, she set off, passing Angel Square, and Amatis's house, where she opened her second portal that day. Not wanting to arrive exactly at the manor house, she settled for a half hour walk to Wayland Manor. Trekking through the still lush, green grass was incredibly peaceful. It almost let Clary forget the situation she was in. Almost, but not quite. All too soon, but at the same time not fast enough, she saw the cavity that the falling manor had created in the valley. Another thousand feet, and she could make out a blond head. Jace. She wanted to run into his arms, at the same time she wanted to draw her dagger and murder him. Clary did none of the above. She just stood, silent as snow falling to the ground, watching the boy she had brought back from the dead; the one she had thought was her brother; the one who had given her the witchlight stone buried in her coat pocket.
Jace breathed in, and out. And in, and out. He still hadn't read the chapter entitled with his name. He slammed it shut, feeling weak, remembering how Clary would never have hesitated. She would have faced the truth, no matter how hard it be. He had been right all along. Love made him weak. Sensing a presence behind him, he turned, almost lazily, just as the first dagger flew, embedding itself two inches from the notes, and two inches from his head. Don't make me do this, Clarissa, he snarled silently. He didn't want to fight her. But then again, when had it ever mattered what he wanted? he thought bitterly, as he leapt up and yanked the dagger from the ground. "Clary," he called. She froze. He expected her lips to tremble, but they didn't. She really had changed now. The thought filled him with an unspeakable sadness. His Clary was gone, and instead, a trained Shadowhunter had replaced her. Her eyes were cold, shutting out any emotions she felt from him. He tried to convey his sadness to her without speaking, and when he blinked, he kept his eyes shut, as if when he opened them the Clary he had -and still did, he realized- loved would be back. However, he felt a well-placed kick to his shins. He was about to fight back, but he realized I deserve this. Slamming her elbow into his ribs, he couldn't take it anymore, and survival instinct took over, as it had since he was five. He caught her arms and she shook them free. She pounded her small fists against his chest, and he lifted her up, ignoring her protests and struggles. Eventually, she subsided, and crumpled against him, her entire body wracking with pent-up tears.
In case any of you were wondering, semper means "always" in Latin. Please review. I'm working on making my chapters longer. It's hard, but I'm getting there! Can we try for five reviews until my next chapter? Or... you could wait until Christmas. Pick your poison.