I hope the last chapter was action-filled enough to make up for the shortness. I don't say it every chapter, but I really do mean it when I say thanks to everyone who reviewed.
Clary woke up suddenly. There was something urgent she thought she had to do, but she couldn't quite remember what it was. She glanced around the room. It was pretty lavish, with heavy drapes across what looked like a large window, and heavy wooden furniture. Rich rugs of reds covered the floorboards and the bed she was in was a double with fluffy white pillows and covers. The feeling of being out of place increased, but she dismissed it and lay back down. She was with Jonathan and Father, as always. There was nothing strange about it.
"Clary. Clary! Wake up!" Jonathan.
"Go away." She mumbled into her pillow. "I'm sleeping."
The covers were cruelly ripped away from her body. Cold air rushed in and surrounded her, making Clary shiver and curl in on herself. She stretched and sat up. "Okay, I'm up! Happy now?"
She was talking to empty air. Jonathan had left, leaving her covers on the floor. She shrugged, got up and went to her wardrobe, and frowned. This didn't seem like her usual wardrobe. A sharp pain pierced her head, and she promptly sank to the floor, clutching her head. For a few seconds she sat like that, head in her hands, but the pain left as quickly as it came.
Clary got back up, shaking it off, and picked out a dark green flowing singlet top and black jeans. The clothes settled on her, the shirt silky and soft, and the black jeans tough like some gear. The weather here in Idris was fairly mild, so she could afford to go without sleeves. She was still slightly confused as to why they were staying in Idris, but she knew that her family had their reasons. Then, she made her way outside to the corridor. Everything felt familiar, but not in the way it should. What was wrong with her this morning?
"Good to see you, Clarissa." A cool voice said, clearly behind her.
"Morning, Father." She nodded at him, finding comfort in the familiar action. They walked in silence towards the—where were they going?
He opened a door, revealing a long wooden table, with three rectangles of dark blue against the creamy wood- three places set. Clary pulled out a chair and sat down, her back settling uncomfortably against the timber. Jonathan joined them as well, and soon he and Valentine were talking about their latest plan. Clary listened intently- it was a good plan, with only a few gaps that were soon smoothed over. She offered her runes as help- her brother and dad were trying their hardest to right many wrongs, and she wanted to help them.
Servants walked in and out of the room, presumably mundanes with the Sight. Clary frowned as she watched one- he was memorable. Old, but with silvery flashes across his skin as he moved- obviously a Shadowhunter. But why was he a servant here? Valentine had obviously noticed her frown, because he ordered sharply: "Hodge, start washing our plates." Clary sighed. She hoped he wasn't going to get difficulty from Valentine because of her. "Clarissa, why don't you go to your room?" he asked. She nodded her head, pushed her chair out and walked out into the hallway. Someone put a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, already on the defensive. "Don't worry, I'm quite harmless." The servant- Hodge- said. "Clary, why are you here? Why are you cooperating with them?"
"You're just a servant." She snapped. "What right do you have to ask me those questions?" He looked shocked. Something was happening here. Something that wasn't very apparent to Clary right now. "Not that it's any of your business, but I happen to have lived here my entire life." She lifted her chin. "Now, please let me on my way." Hodge still wore an expression of astonishment on his face. He didn't move. Clary turned and continued to walk down the hall. She glanced back. He was still standing there, watching her leave, but the look on his face right was something very like sadness.
Jonathan hadn't been around for a few days, and Clary found herself missing him. It had been a while since she'd talked to someone her own age, and it was really boring here. She didn't know why she hadn't realized it before. She decided to take a walk around outside. Quickly, she threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with some Shadowhunting boots. Letting herself out and blinking in the bright sunshine, Clary saw two dark shapes. Maybe Jonathan was back? She had taught him her Portal rune before he left, so he could come back at any moment. Valentine hadn't really said anything other than he was going to Alicante. No plans were disclosed, which Clary found a bit strange, but whatever they decided was probably the right judgment. She drew closer and the two shapes resolved into figures that were Jonathan and Valentine.
"I infiltrated the Penhallow's house as planned." Clary bit her lip. Penhallow? She used to be friends with one of them, didn't she? The name was a bit too vaguely associated with the idea of friendship though, so she supposed that she'd just met them a few times in passing. "They don't suspect anything. The Lightwoods are there too. The only one that suspects anything is Jace, but that could just be his natural dislike for everyone." They laughed. Clary felt a stab of resentment and protectiveness. And a little bit of worry. Lightwoods… Jace… everything was so familiar. His name brought a warmth, but at the same time, disappointment. Something was wrong. Really wrong. All these feelings that were inspired by these names had nothing to do with her! They couldn't. She let out a strangled scream of frustration, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, remembering too late that Jonathan and her father were meters away.
They both immediately jumped up, weapons at the ready and eyes cold. Clary still stood there with her hand over her mouth. There was only one thing to do. She turned on her heel and ran into the woods.
A couple of hours later, Clary was completely lost. She plopped down at the base of a thick tree, resting her back against the solid trunk. She stared up into the branches and a wild impulse took over her. Brushing grass off, she put one booted foot on a knobby hold and grabbed the two lowest branches with each hand to pull her up. The rhythm of climbing settled into her. Grab, pull, and push off her foot. Clary ended going up much higher than she meant to and stopped when the branches started thinning considerably. Balanced on top of a branch, one arm against the trunk and the other out for balance, she looked across the skyline. Alicante's demon towers glittered and gleamed in the sunlight, even at such a distance. The tops of trees stretched out further than she would have imagined, and she could see several other manors. For a while, she just stood there, looking at the dense forest and the city of glass.