"We need to tell her"
It was the last thing Tessa wanted to hear Magnus say, especially in regards to their daughter. To Clary. She wasn't theirs. Tessa knew that. Clary even knew that, but in the fourteen years since Jocelyn Fairchild's death, she'd become theirs. They'd fallen into an easy pattern of life, quickly shifting from late nights wailing for her mom to make-shift family trips to the zoo, from Magnus totally not crying on her first day of school to parent teacher interviews and chaperoning school dances, all the while maintaining as much normality as they could provide her. It was what Jocelyn had wanted for her daughter and so Clary had gone to public school, made mundane friends and learned to not talk about the fact that her parents didn't age or much of the other shadow world stuff they tried to keep hidden behind closed doors. Tessa had known that they couldn't hide the truth from Clary forever, knew that one day, they'd have to tell her what she was, but now, as she turned sixteen, it seemed much too soon.
"She's still a child, Magnus." Tessa protested, "Even by The Clave's standards."
"I know, my dear, but the longer we put this off, the more she'll resent us keeping it from her." Magnus reasoned, which was a change as it was usually Tessa's job to be the responsible one, but she could see the fear in her dear old friend, fear of losing the child he'd never planned on having.
"Give her one more day." Tessa pleaded, "One more day to just be a silly mundane girl. We can tell her everything tonight."
Magnus sighed, but nodded, giving her a firm look and kissing her forehead, "Tonight."
"What about tonight?" Clary appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She'd grown into a beautiful young woman over the years, Tessa noted, not tall, but slender, with long red hair and an unmistakeable resemblance to her biological mother. She wore bright red leggings that matched her red sneakers under a shimmery, dark blue spandex skirt that fell to mid thigh and a white tank top with a rhinestone decorated jean jacket over top. Clear influences from both her and Magnus style wise, though she seemed to show a tad more preference to Magnus' style today.
"Tonight would be a good night for you to not be out late." Magnus suggested, "Tess and I have something we want to discuss with you and you know how she frets when you're late."
Predictably, Clary pouted, "But Dad! Can't it wait, it's my birthday! I'm supposed to be with Simon tonight! We're going to a poetry reading to support Eric and then we're supposed to hang out."
"I know, Biscuit." Magnus soothed, flitting over to her in that way that he had, returning her pout and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, "But this is something that shouldn't wait much longer."
"But we could talk about it in the morning?" Clary suggested hopefully, her gaze turning on Tessa, "Please Mom?"
Magnus shot her a look, but Tessa, wanting to keep her baby as her baby for a long as possible gave him an apologetic look, "Waiting til tomorrow couldn't hurt, could it?"
"You girls will be the death of me." Magnus groaned.
Taking that as a yes, Clary grinned, hugging her foster father tightly before skipping over to kiss Tessa's cheek, "Thank you! I won't be too late, I promise!"
"You better not be!" Tessa warned in her typical concerned mom voice as the red-head made a break for the front door of the apartment.
She met Simon at Java Jones, a favored hang out for a pair of caffeine addicted teenagers who were far too nice to tell their friend Eric that listening to his poetry was akin to hearing someone strangle a cat. A very depressed cat who over used metaphors. Regardless of the affront to poetry behind him, Simon greeted Clary with a wide grin. "Hey birthday girl."
"Hey Simon." She grinned, flopping down on the warn out velvet couch beside him and shooting a pained glance at Eric, "I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"Oh just one long poem." He chuckled, "Although, you should know, you missed one of his better ones."
"I'm heartbroken." She laughed.
"I'll buy you a coffee to help you survive." Simon joked, getting up.
"Oh, no, no, no, I got it!" She waved at him to stop, digging into her purse and pulling out a twenty, "Birthday money from Magnus. Found it under my pillow as usual. Like a still believe in the birthday fairy."
A familiar look flickered across Simon's face before he took the twenty and headed for the counter. She'd accepted that Simon was, on some level, never going to get used to her odd family dynamic, the way she casually switched between calling her parents by their given names and mom and dad or that her parents were not married and had never actually been romantically involved, let alone shared a bedroom. Part of her enjoyed watching him squint and shake his head and try and put his finger on what was so odd about their makeshift little family.
"Here you are, Milady, the plainest, blackest, strongest sludge in the place." He teased as he returned with her coffee and his fancy, frothy latte.
"Thanks." She grinned, accepting the mug and her change. Once she had everything stored away where it needed to be, she turned back to Simon, "Okay, so? You said you had a plan for tonight?"
"That I do." Simon smirked mischievously, digging into his pocket and producing a pair of fake ID's, "We're going to a club."