Second chapter because I couldn't resist :) Have a good weekend.
"Give me your phone, Clary," Indie commands, holding out a green tinted hand. I shove the phone into her hand blindly and try to focus on some memories that are still flooding into my brain like a tsunami; quick and seemingly never ending. To any onlooker, I must seem mad; talking to myself with my head in my hands. Maybe I am mad. Maybe this is just a bad dream.
"Jocelyn?" I hear Indie say softly into my phone. "Jocelyn! Jocelyn, what's happening?" My head snaps up so fast, my neck cricks but I don't even wince in pain.
"What's wrong?" I ask Indie, desperately. "What's happening?" Indie stares me blankly in the eyes, her own filling up with tears.
"Jocelyn, what do I do? Where do I take her? Do I take her to Mag- JOCELYN!" She cries and I knock over her mug in surprise. It smashes on the floor and tiny shards of white china dance across the wooden floor. My phone screams in Indie's ear but she doesn't pull it back; she listens intently with her hand over her mouth. "Jocelyn?"
"Mom?" Indie hangs up and drops the phone on the table. She lets out a rattling breath. "What's happened, Indie?"
"Clary – Clary, I'm so sorry," Indie sniffs, her head in her hands.
"What happened to my mom?" I demand.
"He took her."
"Who took her?" My hands begin to shake and my skin starts to burn. "Who took her?" I repeat.
"Valentine," She whispers, and with that, I run from the cafe; my mind swarming with new memories.
The door of our apartment is hanging off of its hinges precariously; the soft green colour my mother had painted it, is clawed and chipped like an animal has attacked it. My heart beats unevenly in my chest as I draw nearer and step timidly into my hallway. The rug on the floor is crumpled and dirty, and my mother's paintings have fallen off of the wall and litter the floor. I step between the rubble of the crumbling wall and make my way cautiously into the kitchen.
My mother's china is scattered all over the floor, the blinds over the windows are hanging off of one hinge and the glass windows to the cabinets have been smashed in completely. But my eyes are dawn to the floor. I remember about a year ago, Luke and his friend Alaric had come round and retiled the kitchen. I had constantly complained about the noise and the dust that had settled on just about everything in the apartment. But the previously black, cold tiles were replaced with sterile white tiles. It made the kitchen look more modern and I thought it had opened up the kitchen considerably. But now, the contrast of the white tiles and scarlet liquid running through the cracks in between the tiles, makes me want to hurl.
"MOM!" I scream, running out of the kitchen and down the hall. "Mommy?" A line of red extends down the wall, like something was dragged against it. I swallow the bile rising in my throat and grab painful fistfuls of my curly red hair. My back crashes against the wall and I slide, to the floor with my fist stuffed in my mouth to stop me from screaming.
My mother's gone. She's gone.
A loud crashing sound from the bathroom makes me freeze. I push myself to my feet and slowly back into my mother's room, shutting the door and locking it behind me. I haven't been in my mother's room in... forever; I've never been in my mother's room. Her room is the same size as mine and it seems like one of the only rooms to be untouched by whatever has taken my mother. Unlike mine, her room is organised, with her perfume and make-up placed on a vanity table in neat lines and her bed covers pulled tightly so there isn't a crease.
I retreat further into the room and look desperately for something to arm me against whatever's outside the room. I frantically tug open draws at random, searching for anything that could class as a weapon. When I find nothing, I turn to the old, oak wardrobe and seize the brass handles. Inside is a curtain of black clothes which I find odd: my mother never wears black. The materials are tough but flexible and feel comforting under my touch.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Loud footfalls remind me that I'm sharing an apartment with my mother's potential abductor. I fall to my knees and search the dark foot of the closet, hoping to find a trunk of some sort. I do. My trembling hands snap off a weak lock, I lift a heavy lid up and I grope frenetically into the depths of the box. I find purchase on a hard metal case and I hopefully drag it out from the shadows. It's heavier than I thought it would be and I have to use all my remaining strength to lift it out of the trunk. The handle on the door begins to rattle, my heart quickens considerably. I'm going to die.
With fumbling fingers, I snap the bronze catches and push the lid up to reveal... a seraph blade, like the one from my dream. I blink, surprised at my luck. I'm not going to die. A voice in my head says, as I grip the handle of the blade with surprising confidence and certainty. A gasp escapes my lips as the blade seems to buzz with the energy of being held; I can guess it hasn't been used in a while. My skin tingles with adrenaline as I gaze in wonder at the sword. It feels so natural to feel the heavy weight of the jewelled blade; it feels like coming home. I'm not going to die. I think and turn to the door with a fierce determination and confidence I've only ever had in my dreams.
I'm not going to die. With an ear splitting screech, my mother's bedroom door is torn from its hinges and I'm faced with the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life. It is a long scaled, scorpion type creature but it's huge. It has shiny scales that coat its back like armour with a cluster of wide unblinking eyes, set in the middle of its domed head. It slithers forward on multiple legs like an alligator crossed between a centipede. It has a sense of stealth and magnitude no creature in the animal kingdom could compete with. A barb-wire type tail swishes dangerously as it crawls forward; bearing its many rows of yellow fangs which are dripping with a green glue like substance.
I'm frozen in place thinking how ridiculous I must look. A skinny, little red- head holding a long blade that is too heavy for her to carry and way out of proportion with her scrawny body – not to mention she doesn't have a clue how to use it- facing a huge monster with a clear advantage on her.
The creature advances into the room, hissing and spitting. I swallow. My blade sends a reassuring buzz up my arm and I look down at it in confusion. It's prompting me to do something; something I've forgotten to do. I've realised this isn't the first time I've held this blade – my blade- but I don't stop to think about it.
"Almace," I whisper. The blade seems to awaken; glowing a brilliant silvery colour. You're going to live. It seems to croon. Strength flows through my blood and I glare ferociously at the beast. My heart seems to drop to the pits of my stomach as the monster suddenly pounces at the wall, hanging there for a moment like a bat. My eyes follow it. I'm going to die. I reply to my blade, shaking my head.
The monster swings its tail upwards, almost hitting itself in the head with its tail. I am almost positive is poisonous. You're going to live. The blade whispers. How? How am I supposed to beat that? The monster crawls along the wall, circling me; I don't lose eye contact. You're going to live.
The monster pauses and then hisses through its stained teeth: "You'll go the same way as your mother."
You're right, you're going to die. The blade says as I draw it back over my head. Not if I can help it.
The monster pounces on me; tail swishing, teeth bared, claws extended. A scream rips through the air as I bring the blade down, and I realise it was me who screamed. The blade swishes through the air without making contact and I curse under my breath.
"You think you can beat me?" A voice to my right says and I spin around to stare at the creature. The blade begins to slide through my sweaty hands but I tighten my hold. The creature scuttles across the floor to the other side of the room, hissing ferociously. The underside of its body is fleshy; black skin unprotected by the hard armour on its back. "You can't beat me, little girl. You are most like your mother; depending on others to protect her and doing nothing for herself."
A flash of anger courses through me. My mother had brought me up; paying for my expensive ballet classes when I was thirteen and earning money to keep a roof over our heads. She did everything for me. A snarl escapes through my lips and the creature hisses in response. It pounces onto my mother's vanity table; bottles of perfume smashing on the floor, sending the strong familiar smell of my mother dancing around the room. The comforting smell awakes my senses. I know what to do.
"You're right," I whisper, dropping the blade to the floor, my shoulders slumping. "I'm going to die anyway, right?"
"Right," The beast growls and drops to the ground just in front of me. I fall to my knees and bow my head in defeat. My hands rest on the floor next to me; the hilt of Almace resting gently under my finger tips.
"Do it," I say, looking up at the monster. "Do it now."
"With pleasure." A malicious glint appears in each eye on the front of the beast's domed head and I see my own defeated expression reflected in each. It rears up, exposing its stomach, tail swishing dangerously close to my body. In one quick motion, my hand is around the hilt of the blade again, buzzing at the exhilaration of the hunt. With a deafening roar, the monster flails its barbed tail; my blade sticking out of its chest; rubies gleaming in the setting sun. I pull myself to my feet, only to be knocked down again with a sharp blow to my side – searing pain shooting through my body. My screams and the beast's wails pierce through the silent apartment.
"Clary!" I hear a feminine voice scream. "CLARY!" My heavy eyelids open to see Indie standing in the doorway. "Oh my-"She whispers, staring at the monster. It begins to crumple in on itself; shrivelling up. Its tortured cries hurt my ears so badly; I have to encase my them with my hands like I did when I was little. And then it's gone. Disappeared. Vanished.
"You killed – you killed a Ravener Demon," Indie stutters and helps me to my feet; my hands pressed tightly against the side of my waist. "You – you-"
"Indie, I know," A burst of pain shoots up my side and I pull back my hands back to see a thick, red liquid staining my palms and fingers.
"Clary, we need to get you out of here," Indie says, panic seeping through her words. I nod wordlessly; terror and pain rushing through me.
"Where are we going?" I ask, weakly.
"The Institute," Indie answers, staring at me expectantly. " Clary, are you okay, you're bleeding?" I nod my head and spot the seraph blade lying, discarded, beside my mother's bed. I limp over to the blade and bend down to retrieve it. "Clary!" Indie gasps as my body falls, crumpling to the ground. A scream rips through my body, and it feels like someone is slashing at my side with a blunt sword.
A high pitch ringing fills my ears and my throat stings from my tortured screams. I can feel a warm, wet liquid pooling around me; a puddle of crimson blood. My heart stutters in my chest.
I hear Indie cry, but her voice seems miles away; a faint whisper. A new voice – a man's voice – replies but I can't make out the words.
"HELP ME!" I scream as strong arms slide under my back and legs. My eyes open a fraction, to see a pair of familiar yellow cat eyes staring back at me with concern.
"Magnus?" I whisper. And then the pain becomes too much, and darkness overcomes me.