NANOWRIMO 2013
A Rizzoli & Isles and Shadowhunter Cross-Over
DISCLAIMER/PREFACE/INTRO
I have never and will never own the rights to either Cassandra Clare's Shadowhunter (Mortal Instruments/Infernal Devices) universe, nor Tess Gerrittsen's and Janet Tamaro's Rizzoli & Isles universe. However, I will be borrowing both of the above for the purposes of this exploratory work of fiction.
This has been a thought baby of mine for quite some time now, but I decided to hold off and simply plan this out in preparation for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This means that this story will be at least 50,000 words in length by the end of November. It also means that for now, the quality may be very shoddy as this endeavour, at first, is simply about quantity and not quality. Quite honestly, this will be a posted first draft, something which doesn't usually occur (for good reason). If I'm not sick of this novel by December, then perhaps I'll even edit it for you all (once I've caught up on sleep and suffered through my annual caffeine withdrawal).
Each new 'chapter' probably won't end up being an actual chapter. I'll just be uploading whatever I managed to write that day. This means I may stop in the middle of a chapter or plot point. But don't worry, it'll be rectified the next day. Instead, please pay due notice to my chapter markings within the writing itself.
The journey starts November 1st, my friends, and I would love to have you on the ride with me as I navigate the murky waters of a novel written in a single month. If you choose to stay, and even if you're just passing through, please be kind to my darling story and tender self-esteem.
Also, I haven't freshly re-read these books, so if I get anything wrong about Shadowhunter lore, please feel free to inform me. You know, preferably in a kind fashion.
Thank you.
SPIRITUALLY UPLIFTING BEGINNING QUOTE FROM NOTED SOURCE
My God, this is NaNo, do you think I have time to research some barely relevant jumble of words merely to conform to an often ignored precedent standard?
- Me.
PROLOGUE
The night was damp and lacking in stars. Using only the faint glimmer of the moon coming in through the dense grove of trees, she approached the abandoned cabin with caution. It was rundown and looked like a chaotic mess; so it was just the type of place he'd pick to hide out in for a while.
Using every scrap of training she'd be given, she stalked through the brush to the house.
A few hundred yards from the house, she located a car covered in a camouflage tarp and driven into a thick tangle of branches and leaves. The hood was slightly warm to the touch, even with the plastic covering, and that only cemented her theory: he was here.
She felt a trickle of anticipatory dread slide down her spine. This would be the night of her revenge, and she would stop at nothing to achieve her ends. She drew her twin blades from the scabbards strapped across her back and whispered their names to the lonely wind.
Her breathing regulated as she brought forth every ounce of her discipline, and then she sprang forward lightly, body tensed to face her past, her present, and her future.
CHAPTER ONE
There were four of them parading down the sidewalk as if they owned the city. A curly-, dark-haired young woman led the group, followed closely by three boys. Although there were a multitude of people on the street, regardless of the hour, no one paid them any notice; despite the frivolous attitude they were displaying toward the many sleeping city residents.
Their recent victory was fresh in their minds, as was the adrenaline still pounding through their veins. The boys' hoots and hollers were a stark contrast to the merely satisfied lip curl gracing the face of their relentless leader.
Dressed in black from head to toe, it would be easy to assume that they were merely rambunctious troublemakers out searching for a place to be. Upon closer inspection, the hilts glittering at their backs or their waists soon tossed that notion up in smoke. Their sleeveless vests revealed lean and muscular tanned arms, covered in swirling patterns of black or red ink. Any movement made by any of the gang was lithe, purposeful, and stealthy, like that of a blessed predator.
And predators they were. Blood and ichor, though hardly noticeable against the colourless vestments they wore, were mainly splattered across the lower sections of their pant legs and shoes. These were fine young Shadowhunters, members of an elite race descended from both humans and angels. Fierce and devoted, these warriors spent their entire lives fighting demons and upholding the Accords (a smattering of agreements decided upon between the Shadowhunters – on behalf of humanity – and the Downworlders – the vampires, werewolves, warlocks, and faeries), which basically say that any Downworlder who attacks a human is fair game to be 'taken care of' by any/all Shadowhunters with evidence or who have witnessed it.
One of the boys grew quiet, pensive in the darkness, and the other two noticed.
"Oh, come on, Frankie!" Frost teased, slapping the younger man across the back. "Jane may be a sour puss, but that doesn't mean you have to be one, too."
Frankie managed to get in an eye-roll before the other Shadowhunter started in on him as well. "Take it from someone who knows, Frankie," Giovanni began, no doubt about to bless Frankie with a portion of his infinite wisdom.
"Okay guys, lay off of him," Jane instructed, swatting both Gio and Frost on the backs of their heads. Rubbing the spots with mock pain, the two faded to the back of the quartet, bending their heads together to chat as only non-parabatai could do.
"You didn't have to do that, Janie, they were just playing," Frankie huffed in annoyance.
"You're my little brother, Frankie, and don't call me 'Janie'," Jane said, knocking his shoulder in the silent sibling way that's code for 'It's okay, just let it go'.
She stopped suddenly, in the middle of the alleyway, and Frost and Giovanni almost crashed into her. Frankie stood rigid at her side, listening intently. With practiced ease, they drew their weapons and fell into a formation. Craning her neck and stepping softly, Jane led them down another alley until they were brought to a dead stop at an alcove.
A dirty-blonde man and a redheaded woman were pressed close against each other against the dirty brick side of the building, the woman's hand holding the man's tightly above his head. His eyes were shut tight, and his mouth was gaping open, but all of her attention seemed to be devoted to his neck, where his muscles were tensed and his pulse beating rapidly.
To anyone else, it would merely seem as if a couple had gotten carried away out of the public eye with their necking, but the Shadowhunters knew differently. They attacked at once, pulling the vampire off of the poor guy and neatly disposing of the rampant Downworlder in a few pretty slashes of their seraph blades.
Giovanni took care of the victim and sent him on his way before regrouping with the others.
"Everyone alright?" Jane asked, scanning her friends. They nodded. "Good," she stated, and promptly fell over.
"What the hell!" Frankie swore as the three of them dropped to the asphalt and quickly ran their eyes and hands over every curve of her body.
"Shit," Frost muttered, his hands over the gaping wound in Jane's stomach. "It's been bleeding since we took out that trio of Ravener demons, because there is no way this wound came from that vamp." He felt around the edges as he pulled the wound closed. "Definitely a Ravener. Came from the barbed tail. Be thankful it didn't bite her. At least we have a chance of saving her if we can get her back to the Institute in time."
"Dude, we're at least a mile away," Giovanni said, running a hand through his light brown hair. Frost turned and leveled a look so cold in his direction, one could practically see the icicles.
"I am not going to let my parabatai die, G, and Frankie's sure as hell not going to let his sister die. Quickly, let's move!"
With Giovanni supporting her long legs, and Frankie cradling the upper half of her body, Frost was left to plug the wound as they quickly wound their way through the semi-deserted streets of Boston. Due to their glamours, an illusion which made them invisible to any mundane human's eyes, no one paid them any heed.
No one, that is, until a blonde with wavy locks rushed towards them, asking hurriedly, "Oh my goodness, are you alright, what's wrong with her?"
Frankie and Giovanni froze, too taken aback by the fact that someone could see them. Luckily Frost came to the rescue. "My friend was stabbed in an alley and I need to get her to her house, if you'll excuse us." He started to force the other boys to move again when a hand gripped his wrist.
"Wait, my apartment is just across the street. I'm a doctor, I can help her," she offered, voice desperate. "Please."
Frost glanced down at Jane, her usually tanned skin was sickeningly pale. He felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. He looked the stranger in the eye and after a moment, he nodded.
"Come on!" He barked at the other two, and together they followed the woman across the street and to the second floor.
"Set her on the kitchen table," she instructed as she disappeared down a hallway. They tried to be as gentle as possible, and Frankie's hand never left the side of his sister's face.
Darting back into the room with a massive first aid kit, the med student began working to cleanse the wound. Deciding that the unconscious woman wouldn't notice it either way, she skipped the step of numbing the area before grabbing the sutures and slowly, meticulously stitching her back up.
"There doesn't appear to be any damage to any of the major organs, but there was a lot of blood loss. Optimally I'd want her on an IV to replace all of those fluids, but I'm afraid I don't have one here." She rifled through her kit again and extracted a couple of packets. "These will help with the pain and discomfort once she wakes."
She looked at them all curiously, taking in their daunting, warrior-like appearances. "I would suggest you take her to the hospital, but I would theorise that you'd graciously ignore my request."
Frost nodded. "You'd be correct."
She lilted her head to the side, thoughtful. "Tell me."
The three boys traded unsure looks. "Tell you what?" Giovanni attempted to deflect.
"Tell me about why you're armed in the city of Boston, why you're covered in tattoos, why you won't take this woman to a hospital although it could only do her well, and why for the love of God, does this wound not look like anything I've ever seen before?" The woman demanded, setting her facial features into a no-nonsense look of determination.
Frost huffed, but admittedly he'd have to tell her something. And she could see them, which meant that maybe she wasn't entirely human herself. If he was smart, he'd convince the girl to come to the Institute with them and from there be able to further solve the mystery. He gestured for her to take a seat, and reluctantly she complied. In mere moments, the three boys were on her couch, and the woman was perched on the edge of the armchair, her back facing Jane.
He held out his hand. "Barry Frost, short for Barold, though everyone calls me Frost." He nodded to the other two in turn. "Frankie Rizzoli, Giovanni Gilberti." Waving an arm in Jane's direction, he said, "And last, but not least, Jane Rizzoli. And you are?"
She paused for only a brief moment before gripping his hand quickly but firmly with her own. "Maura Isles."
"Pleasure to meet you, Maura Isles. And what species are you?" Giovanni asked, putting forth his best behaviour. Frankie elbowed him in the ribs. 'What?' Giovanni mouthed and Frankie just shook his head in resignation.
"Don't mind him!" Frost cut in at Maura's blank look. "He… was drinking earlier, doesn't know what he's sayi-"
"Are you not human?" Maura asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"We're mostly human," a groggy, husky voice answered from behind her.
Everyone turned to stare at the brunette who was carefully hopping down from the counter. She thought better of moving around, however, and opted to simply lean against the island for support.
"How does that even work?" Maura asked, eyeing the patient carefully.
Jane rolled her eyes. "Way back in the day, the founder of our race asked an angel to-"
"Angels don't exist!" Maura shrieked, interrupting heatedly. Once Jane leveled a glare in her direction she shrugged, but kept her head held high, firm on her opinion.
"-mix his blood with the blood of humans in a cup, so that he could make a legendary race of warriors to uphold the Law. His name was Jonathan Shawdowhunter, and as such, we're named after him," Jane explained, pulling a small dagger from her belt and using the blade as a makeshift mirror. She pushed a stray bundle of hair back behind her ear.
"You must be nuts," Maura muttered, rising fluidly from her seat. She walked right up to Jane and yanked her shirt up a bit, completely ignoring Jane's protests. "You'll live," she concluded, after examining how the sutures were working when Jane was vertical.
"Thanks very much, Doc, but now we'd better be going." Jane made her way past the doctor only to be stopped by a soft hand on her wrist.
"Go where?" Maura inquired. "You should be going to a hospital, really, to ensure you don't have any other ailments."
Jane scoffed. "Ailment? Lady, this is nothing but a mere flesh wound in my line of work. So yeah, I appreciate you taking the time to stitch me up, but really, I'm fine and would like to go home."
"Jane…" Frost said imploringly, trying to convey his thoughts about taking her with them in the silence. The leader looked away from the blonde and subtly winked at him.
"Is there anyone there who can see to it that you receive proper attention?" Maura continued, relentless.
"No, alright, I'll get one of these numbskulls to give me an iratze once we're there and then most of the wound will be taken care of," Jane turned to go again.
"What's an iratze?"
Jane sighed heavily. "It's a rune and it heals Shadowhunters." She paused. "What did you say your name was?"
"Maura," the blonde woman said, and then darted into the back room once more, this time returning with a small suitcase. She picked up her medical kit on her way past. "And I'm coming with you."
Frost almost couldn't handle Rizzoli's signature smirk. He simply pulled himself off of the couch, forcing the other two to do the same.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Jane said, laying it on rather thickly with the indecisive tone.
"If you don't have any medical professionals, I must insist. I'm on a sabbatical from my work at the moment, but that doesn't mean my skills can't be of use elsewhere. Perhaps you can teach me about these mystical angels and iratzes," Maura pondered, wandering out the front door. She stopped in the hall when she realised no one was following her. "Are you all coming?"
Jane had to smile and admire the girl's attitude. If she wanted something, she got it. With an indulgent shake of her head and a minor shrug, she led the rest of the Shadowhunters after the doctor.
When they exited the stairwell to the street, Maura abruptly turned and stared at Jane expectantly. Fighting a grin, the Shadowhunter simply raised an eyebrow and asked, "What? I thought you were leading the way, oh all-knowing one."
"Jane, cut it out," Frankie slapped her on the back. He pointed to the left. "It's that way. Just follow us, Maura," he smiled.
"Looks like Rizzoli Jr.'s got a crush, eh, Gi?" Frost muttered to Giovanni. They slapped five and swapped smug smirks.
Maura pushed ahead to join Jane at the front of the group, while Frankie was practically dragged backward to be included in the friendly boys' club teasing and ribbing.
"So, tell me more," Maura half-asked, half-demanded. Jane cast a sidelong glance at her.
"What do you want to know?"
Hopeful that such a response was a good omen, Maura smiled a little and said, "Anything. About you, about Shadowhunters, where we're going, how you were injured… anything."
They walked in silence for a few moments before Jane found the right words to respond. "We're going to the Institute. It looks like a ruin, or it should. I don't know what it'll look like to you, because frankly, I'm not sure what you are, but it's where we live."
"How many of them are you?" Maura asked as Jane took a sudden right down a suspicious looking alley.
"Well, let's see, there's the four of us, Cavanaugh, Korsak, and my mother. But we take care of the city, the four of us mainly. The mundanes are safe with us around, generally speaking. Boston isn't exactly a hub of demonic movement. There's the occasional lost demon, but mostly it's rampant Downworlders." Jane looked over at her companion. "And I've completely lost you, haven't I?"
Maura nodded sheepishly.
Jane shrugged. "I suppose I should focus most on the things that in some way include you. For starters, out in the world, most Shadowhunters adopt glamours, or illusions so that the regular folks don`t get creeped out by our appearances. You can see us as we are, which means that you have the Sight."
The group moved through a densely populated part of Boston Common. "The Sight is just the term we have for whatever allows people to see the more… supernatural side of life." Jane explained, tucking her hands in her pockets.
"So, there's more to it than just you guys? These Downworlders? And did I hear you say 'demonic movement' earlier?" Maura stopped suddenly in the wet grass, her arm darting out to catch a hold of Jane's.
"It's a long story, if you want the entire thing." Jane tugged and they resumed their walk.
"Well, I'm hanging around at least until I know you're fully healed. Size of that wound, I figure we have plenty of time." Maura chuckled, feeling strangle at ease with these strangers.
"I told you, Doc, an iratze or two back at the Insitute, and then I give this wound a day or two tops to heal up," Jane assured her, taking a sudden left through a narrow gap in a hedge.
Maura followed her through, and let out a gasp. A grand old church was there, hidden by all the greenery. The spires seemed to touch the sky, and the stained glass windows were amongst the finest Maura had ever encountered, and she'd done a lot of traveling in Europe. It appeared older than it should've been, more majestic than anything one could dream of Boston offering up.
Jane marched up to the iron gate and held it open while the group filed through, Maura coming in last as she gazed upon the architectural masterpiece, for lack of a better term. Jane gave her a light push in her back to get her back up to moving at a regular pace and then they entered the building itself, Giovanni holding the door open and following them inside.
The inside was just as aesthetically pleasing as the exterior had been, but Maura wasn't granted a whole lot of time to inspect the crown mouldings before harried footsteps thundered down the great spiral staircase.
"WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU LOT BEEN? YOU WERE ONLY TAKING CARE OF A RAVENER DEMON? WHO'S HURT?!"
Jane nudged Maura and leaned over, "That would be my mother," she whispered.