So this is the next chapter of What Should have been said. I've got to say that This was a tough, yet rewarding one. I got to save a character that I've always wondered about whil trying my hand at a little action writing. Tell me how it was.
Disclaimer: I own none of the Mortal Instruments Series.
Lorna Oldwood bounced in the rocking chair beside the crib. Her slim, nimble fingers tapped against the armrest in a hectic rhythm that mixed with the soft sighs from the baby in echoing off the nursery walls. Her head jerked back and forth, black hair the color of charcoal straggled around her head as she scanned the room.
Valentine had left only an hour before, to visit a prisoner of the Clave he had said, and she was left alone with the baby. Little baby Jonathan; his last name was unknown to her, slept peacefully in his cradle. His flowing golden hair was a halo around his face and his unblemished face. His plump cheeks and infantile goodness gave him the appearance of a cherub resting before taking the mantle of guarding the world.
Lorna found it bewildering that this innocent little boy could have any connection to the man that she knew to have orchestrated the Battle of the Hall of the Angel and spilled the blood of countless Downworlders. Were children not meant to resemble their caretakers? Valentine had overseen this child for months and yet the boy seemed to have no traits that she would have connected to him.
The sharp deep tapping of feet on stone could be heard in the distance, too swift to be Valentine and too soft to be a clear sighted mortal servant. With those eliminated Lorna knew. Only one person could have possibly made those footsteps.
The door was thrown open and Lorna saw that she was correct. The woman at the door had flowing blond hair that shone gold in the shimmering witchlight and fell around her head like a halo around the heads of saints in mosaic windows. Her gentle heart shaped face was unlined save for the creases in her forehead from scrunching her eyebrows together. Radiant brown eyes gazed to the crib and she hurried over to it. She was an average height and wore black hunting gear with several weapons hanging from her belt.
"Lorna," she said turning to her. "We need to leave."
Lorna shook her head, worry crossing her face. "What?" she asked, perplexed. "What do you mean? Cel—"
"No!" the woman exclaimed in a whisper. "We have to go. Valentine's gone for now; off to the Gard to mock Imogen Herondale. Now may be our only chance to get out of here. Please," she urged Lorna. "You didn't hear him last night. The rage, the fury, in him when he discovered that little Jace's eyes were brown now—" she shook her head. "I'm scared about what he might do to him. Valentine isn't who he used to be. We need to leave."
The determination in the blond woman's face, a cold ferocity that Lorna doubted ever graced her delicate complexion, was ultimately what convinced Lorna. If the kind, caring, and delicate girl before her could be driven to such terror then it must be serious. For Céline so rarely experienced anything but happiness and only after her husband's death did she actually begin to come back to earth in terms of emotional range. Since his death, Céline had become much more sensible. However, nothing seemed to truly breach her positive cage. For Valentine's rage to affect her in such a way, to drive her to such an extreme fear, whatever it was must have been serious.
"Alright," Lorna agreed, rising to her feet. "We should get moving if we want to get out before Valentine gets back. Why don't you get Jonathan ready and I'll go get changed into gear." At that she gestured to her flimsy pajamas.
Céline nodded. "You get going." She turned her head to Jonathan. "Hey Jace," she squealed in a baby voice, alerting Lorna to Jonathan being awake again. "We're gonna be goin somewhere soon so why don't I get you all ready to go."
Lorna left the woman playing with the baby, hurrying down the hall to her room. She would need to be ready fast if they wanted to ensure that they were out before Valentine got back from wherever he was.
From her closet she pulled out her gear—rough material made of leather beaten so thin it was flexible—and swiftly pulled it on. It hugged her body as it always did and Lorna hurried around her room to grab several weapons. There were scarcely any weapons—a few seraph blades and some daggers—but it would have to do. Feeling that there was nothing left to look for, Lorna set off.
Back in the nursery, Lorna laughed at the sight of Jonathan bundled in a thick wool coat and wrapped in a dozen blankets. His face was red as he gurgled in his little cavern and Céline held him tightly to herself.
At Lorna's incredulous look, Céline asked "What? It's the end of fall and it's freezing outside! He might freeze."
Putting her hands up, Lorna shook her head. "I didn't say anything." Turning serious, she said "We really should get going. Valentine could be back soon if his meeting ends early."
Nodding, Céline hustled forward. "You're right. You're right. Let's get a move on. It shouldn't take us long to get out of the manor. Then all we'll have to do is get to Alicante and it'll be all over. Jace'll be safe and we can both get on with our lives."
Both women exited the nursery, hurrying down the halls and stairwells until they came to the main entrance. They looked to each other worried. Céline glanced to the doorway at the side of the room.
"I don't like this," she fretted. "Maybe we should take the service entrance. It's never used and Valentine might come back while we're leaving from the front gates."
Lorna thought there were some serious flaws in that plan—where was the service entrance? What if Valentine got home before they left?—but she thought that arguing would only waste time that they didn't have. "If you say so," she conceded.
They took off through the door, much narrower halls and stairs were followed on their way around the manor. The gloomy grey stone walls seemed to echo their footsteps hauntingly, allowing anyone in the manor to know of their departure should they listen closely enough. Thankfully, Céline did know where the service entrance was.
The door, a rickety old wooden door with a rusted handle and stuck hinges, wouldn't open for them no matter how much they tried. Lorna put all her strength into pushing it open, obtaining little help from Céline who was worried about hurting Jonathan.
"Out of the way," Céline announced after Lorna's tenth try. She moved to the side to let Céline through and, with a touch of irritation, saw that the girl had a thin silvery rod in hand which she placed at the center of the door. She moved the stele across the wooden surface and from the tip a thick black line swirled outward, forming into a pattern of matrix swirls that Lorna knew to mean open. The Rune of Opening. Of course, she berated herself, why hadn't she thought of that?
Upon completion, the rusted hinges shuttered and the door swung outward, revealing the outside world to them. The dark, ominous forest outside loomed nearer then from the front and cast dark shadows over the entrance.
Céline ran out and, as she passed the doorway, Jonathan started crying. Céline pulled him close as she ran while murmuring in his ear soothing promises of sleep and protection.
Lorna ran after her. As she passed the doorway she understood why Jonathan was crying. When she left, there was a feeling of passing through a waterfall and her ears seemed to pop like she had gone very high into the air. Lorna paid that no mind as she ran after Céline and into the forest. As the manor door faded into the trees, all she noticed was the blackness that encompassed her
After several, conscious, days of being in the infirmary, Jocelyn was pleased that she was finally being released. Dozens of times she had been question. Why had she gone? How did she discover Valentine's plot? Could he rise again? The most common question, she noticed, was where was the Mortal Cup? She had been the last to have it and, particularly as Valentine's wife, she was the prime suspect to have it.
Annamarie was the only one that didn't seem bothered by the Cup's disappearance. She never asked Jocelyn anything about it and kept her informed of everything that was going on in the Clave.
Despite all of that, Jocelyn couldn't help but worry. Annamarie had sent for Lucian three days earlier and he had yet to arrive. He had sent swift updates, telling of being forced to stop for the night on dark roads and of pit stops to his parents' house. It felt as if he were making excuses and it worried her.
"Josie," Annamarie's voice called from behind her. Jocelyn turned to see Annamarie, worry and trace amounts of anger on her face, followed by two Shadowhunters dressed in black gear with thin grey cloaks thrown over them. Both of them, one dark-skinned and another tanned, had ink black markings all over their body and expressionless faces.
"Jocelyn Morgenstern," the dark-skinned man said in a deep bass voice. "The Council is ready to stand trial."
His tone of voice startled Jocelyn. It seemed like he, and the other man by the looks of it, were escorting her to an execution rather than a trial.
Still, Jocelyn nodded, knowing that the trial was going to occur. She had donned her black gear and brushed her hair out of her face, careful to prevent it from falling onto her face during the trial. Annamarie had brought her a little make-up and she had put some eye shadow and lipstick on herself. Having repeated the speeches over and over again, Jocelyn knew what she would say. She was ready.
"Well then," she said, walking forward. "Let's get on with it."
The side of a road to Alicante wasn't the most pleasant resting point, but Luke and Elodie made due just fine. Elodie had Jonathan sitting in the carriage and she stood just outside the door, playing peek-a-boo as he squealed. Luke stood to the back of the carriage, looking through the supplies anxiously. They would only have enough for one more day and he didn't know if they would be able to get there by then. Still, they had to try and who knows, they may have been closer than he could tell.
Luke sighed, sealing the back of the carriage before walking around to Elodie. "We should get going," he told her.
She turned away from her game with Jonathan, curiously glancing at him. "What's wrong?" she asked curiously.
Luke shook his head. "Nothing," he denied. "I just want to get going soo we can get to Jocelyn. Annamarie said her trial was today. She needs some comfort and Jonathan might give it to her."
"Or," Elodie went. Raising an eyebrow at him. "She might give it to you?"
Luke stopped, swinging around to face her. Was he really that anxious? "No," he denied, apparently a feeble attempt from her expression. "She's my oldest friend," he confessed. I just want her to be alright."
Elodie nodded, turning to Jonathan who had started wailing. "Alright," she said, a tone that said the conversation wasn't over. "But when we get to Alicante, we need a place to stay."
"Who cares about that?" Luke asked. "We need to get to the Gard."
"I get that," she tried again. "But what about afterward? What about when we need to sleep? We'll need a place to stay."
"We can worry about that," Luke went on, trying to ignore her protests. "After we've seen Jocelyn."
Elodie sighed, afraid that they would be forced to have this conversation. "Lucian listen," she tried. "I know you want to find Jocelyn right away. But we need a Clave member from the city to help us get to the Gard! I don't remember how to get there and you haven't been in the city for sightseeing in years. There has to be someone who knows their way around and can help us."
Lucian opened his mouth to respond, adamant that they needed to find Jocelyn immediately, but stopped before the words could come out. The wind had shifted and he could smell a strange, tarrish tang, burning rubber mixed with garbage. Then, he saw the dark figure looming in the reflection of the window and swirled around.
The monstrous thing was like a black furred gorilla with putrid tusks protruding from its mouth and dripping brackish saliva onto the grassy terrain, leaving sizzling ground in its wake. Its arms, elongated and brutish, raised to pummel Luke to a pulp.
As its fist came, down, Luke thanked the Angel that he had still had his agility, barely escaping the fist's trajectory on its way down. The thing howled in rage, causing Elodie to swirl around to see it. Suddenly it wasn't just a fight against a demon, for there were a dozen other demons of various shapes and species coming forward.
Elodie ripped a silver dagger from its sheath and jumped forward, slamming the carriage door behind her. She slashed the blade across one of the demon's faces, making it howl in pain and shrink back. With a lash out at another of them, she landed a blow in the chest and watched as the demon fell to the ground before folding in on itself to return to its home dimension.
Luke wasn't faring as well as Elodie. He had only two daggers on him and it had been years since he had fought with only blades as weapons. He slashed and lunged at the demons and they made their way toward him. Their hissing and growling voices blended together in a melody of destruction that was barely discernible.
"Destroy them," one hissed, gleeful at the chance. "But save the baby. Master Valentine wants the baby."
"Enough," another, larger one growled. "The child must be spared!"
A cackling voice, like the shrill sound of a deranged killer, sounded in the mix. "But we can eat them. Ha ha ha! Let's get ourselves a snack!"
That one didn't get a chance to continue as, in a blur of black, Elodie stood in front of Luke and struck the blade into the demon's chest, not sparing it a glance as she whipped it out and swerved to strike another. Stunned by her sudden intervention, the demons only stood there.
Seizing his chance, Luke lunged for the large gorilla, both blades in hand, and sunk them into either side of the demon's chest. He kicked himself off of the beast as it shrunk down, pushing into another of the beasts.
From the corner of his eye he saw a demon closing in on the carriage, wails from Jonathan coming from inside. Abandoning the green-skinned oni demon he was fighting, Luke sprung onto the alligator-like demon and drove his blade home.
Unlike the rest of the demons, the blade shattered on impact. The demon's skin was too strong for a mere blade laced with runes to be able to puncture. Luke knew that he had only seconds to get a stronger weapon or the demon would kill him. But what could he use? He thought back to the Paris Institute. He and Elodie had stocked up on seraph blades and various other weapons into their car. They had transferred theminto the back of the carriage, but what could he do? If he left the demon it would kill Jonathan.
Realizing that he was about to be killed, Luke jumped off just as the demon's head snapped around to kill him. It seemed to be distracted with killing him so he ran to the back of the carriage, throwing it open hastily, and pulled out one of the seraph blades.
"Jahoel," he cried, the blade springing to life in his hand. The light seemed to burn the demon, making it shy away from the blade. During its fear, he lunged forward and swooped the blade down, breaking through the armor and severing the demon in two.
"Ahhh!" Luke heard Elodie cry. His head whipped around to see a demon's teeth gripping her arm and she fruitlessly tried to shake it off.
Save for the one demon they were alone in the clearing so Luke had no trouble rushing forward, Jahoel in in hand, to help his friend. He slashed the blade across the back of the demon's hide, making it cry out and release Elodie long enough for her to free herself from its grip.
It took several more slashes, demon ichor spraying onto his clothes, before Luke watched the demon fold into nothingness. Satisfied that the danger was passed, Luke rushed over to Elodie.
The was whimpering on the ground, clutching her bitten arm tenderly, as if she was afraid it might fall off. Kneeling down next to her, Luke gently caressed the arm, bringing it up to look at for a few moments to try and assess the damage done.
Ten heavy teeth marks were ingrained into her arm, piercing through her gear and radiating hate from their open pulsing. The marks weren't deep, thank the Angel, but left untreated they would surely kill her. Unfortunately Luke didn't have the skills to treat her on his own. Only a Silent Brother, with their extensive knowledge of Nephilim treatments, would be any help to her.
Gently picking her up into his arms, Luke carried her to the back of the carriage, laying her down behind the wooden wall as to not allow Jonathan to her in such a state. He didn't need those images troubling is young mind.
"Well, Elodie," he huffed as he carried. "You were right after all."
With her safely in the back Luke rushed forward, taking the reins while rocking a sobbing Jonathan, and they set off.
So there it was. My chapter. What's gonna happen to Jocelyn at her trial? It Elodie alright? THey still have a day to the city and will she last that long? Who's this Lorna and Why does Celine seem to trust her? It'll all be answered, evenually, in the What Should Have Been Said chronicles.
Also...Review!