Clary: Simon, leave.
Simon: but I-
Chris: GET OUT
Simon: But I wanna be here too!
Lacie: NO! *summons amazing authoress power or something like that and pushes Simon back to her story*
Lacie: That was close. Guys, thanks so much for the beautifantamazingly wonderlovely reviews! And to all my silent readers who I don't know, let me say that you make my view number increase
Chris: Wow *sarcastic* that was, something.
Clary: Tell them how many views you've had!
Lacie: Guys, when I updated chapter 5 I had roughly a thousand views, and when I check about five hours later, I see I have over 1,500 views! I swear I'm so excited the first thing I do every day is turn on my computer and wonder what I'm going to write for you guys.
Chris: *cough* no life *coughcough*
*summons authoress powers and gets Chris sent away too*
Clary: Bye Chris! *Waves at him* Lacie-Abyss doesn't own the Mortal Instruments, but she does own the power to send us away apparently.
Lacie: On with the story! By the way guys I know nothing about Saudi Arabia so forgive me if I make anything up or something.
Enjoy!
Clary POV
It was hot in Arabia. Chris had warned her to wear something light, but to bring something so that she wouldn't get sunburned, or a dust storm picked up. Clary was wearing Capri jeans, which she could roll down later on so that they were pants. She had a thin, white pirate looking shirt, which she thought was pretty. It was loose yet covering and billowy. The sleeves were puffy, and cinched at her elbows, then belled out. She had a black vest like looking corset over it, which had to be laced in the front. For shoes, she was wearing black converse. She thought wearing a pirate shirt with modern shoes would be weird, but after trying it on, it actually looked nice. She had brought a backpack that held a long jacket, a sketchpad and some pencils (she remembered this time) and some sunscreen, under which she hid the stele and seraph blade that Chris had lent her. He had also given her some of the currency that was used here, which she tucked into her jean pockets.
Chris had changed into a grey shirt with lettering that said 'Cool story bro.' He had on plain jeans and black sneakers. When Chris had opened the front door, the first thing to hit Clary was the bareness. It looked empty, compared to the sight of the Chicago Skyline, the lights illuminating the sky, the lake reflecting the colors, the sight of sand, sand, and more sand, kind of dropped the expectations she didn't know she had. It was around six o'clock when they left the house, so the sun was again setting here. She had to admit though, even the bare desert had its beauty, and as she and Chris walked the quarter mile to the nearest town (she didn't know how Chris knew where to go) she couldn't help but hum to herself songs that she could remember from the Aladdin movies. 'Arabian Nights' was the first one, she didn't know the lyrics, so she just mumbled.
When they reached the town, Clary looked in awe at the houses, some looked just like what she'd imagine they'd look like, made from mud and bricks. It was like she was pushed into a real version of Aladdin. Chris had told her that this town, or village or whatever, was poorer than most, but still fairly prosperous.
They walked around, trying not to get so much attention from the locals, but failed miserably. In Chicago, they could easily blend in, but here, it was obvious they didn't belong. Most of the women there wore their traditional shawls and clothing, but Clary wasn't and the fact that she and Chris had white hair, hers slightly whiter than his, drew the eye.
They walked down the center of the dusty street, and as they stepped aside to let a beat-up looking jeep pass by, Chris leaned in and asked her under the rumble of the jeep's engine, "What were you humming?"
Clary looked at him. She didn't think he'd be listening, but then again, she assumed it was stupid to think that Chris wouldn't keep an eye on her at all times. "Just some song," she muttered to him quickly before the jeep's engine rumble was gone.
They passed by a market place, where vendors were selling clothes, shawls, perfumes, fruits, spices, rugs, trinkets, jewelry, and even voodoo looking sort of things. Clary eyed the severed head of a monkey that was hanging by a rope under a tent that sold weird looking stuff. The monkey's eyes had been pulled out and replaced with red jewels. She caught a look from the old lady that was in charge of that tent, and tried not to look surprised when she saw the women only had one eye. She held many bracelets on her arms, some made with jewels bound together with colorful strings, as well as queer looking dolls with stitched mouths and button eyes. There were other things on the shelves and cardboard boxes draped with quilts, such as large rings and head jewelry. While that seemed normal though, there was also what looked like human thumbs in a jar, next to strange concoctions of different colors, rust red, emerald green, marine blue, and copper. What was alarming about these concoctions were that they all held something that had once been living floating inside the jars they were held in, such as an eyeball, or a pig's foot, and even a whole human hand.
While she was inspecting this, she felt a hand wrap around her upper arm. She turned to see Chris there, pulling her back. "What's wrong?" She asked.
"You were walking closer to that stand." He warned.
Clary looked back at the one eyed lady. He was right, from when she was watching the stand from a distance, now they were close enough to toss a stone into one of that open hourglass shaped jars. "So what? It's just a lady selling some weird voodoo, not like any of her stuff even work." She remarked.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that some humans have actually learned to use magic, of course they don't know how to use it, so it ends up being black magic. This comes from them trying to use things that weren't meant for them, however, sometimes they know exactly what they're doing." He eyed the lady cautiously. She gave him a menacing, lopsided grin.
"Well can't I just check it out, I won't buy anything." She promised him while tugging her arm away from his grip.
"With these type of people, it doesn't matter whether you buy something or not, they'll find a way to mess with you, maybe make a doll out of you, steal memories from you, or take your ability to reason. Maybe even worse, you'll walk in just to look at a necklace, then walk out and realize hours later that that same necklace is around your neck and you can't get rid of it." Chris wouldn't release her, and instead steered her away from the stand, where Clary couldn't help but take a last glance at the women. She was gone, and in her place stood a little girl, sitting on a stool with her eyes closed. Clary thought this was perhaps her granddaughter, but then the little girl opened her eyes, only to reveal she only had one.
Clary quickly looked away before she could regret it.
Eventually Chris let her go, and they continued to walk around the shops. He had let her buy a pretty patterned shawl from a young women who held a small infant in her arms. She had grabbed Clary's hands and kissed them when she had given the women an uncertain amount of money for it, considering that she didn't know how much the money here was worth. Apparently, she'd given her a lot. When the women let her go, she had tears in her eyes, and Clary smiled sweetly and brushed her fingers across the infant's forehead. Clary had only bought the shawl because she wanted a souvenir, something she wasn't able to get in Chicago, but now she thought she'd use it as a scarf.
They had bought food as they walked too, street vendors were practically shoving sticks of sweet smelling meats into their hands, little cookies and spicy foods that made Clary also get a water bottle to sooth her tongue. Of course, they paid way too much for what is was worth, something the buyers didn't bother to correct, but Chris didn't mind, and Clary didn't either. Some of these people really looked like they needed the money anyways.
The sun had completely set, and there weren't many light bulbs here, so most of the light source came from torches hanging on walls of buildings and lanterns that appeared to be everywhere. Somehow, it gave the place a nicer look. Even though the sun was gone, there appeared to be more people out, as if the day had just begun for them. Most of them probably waited for the day to cool down a bit before going out, and Clary didn't blame them, even she could feel the remnants of the sun's blaze, even when she had gotten there at dusk.
As they began to walk away from the larger crowds, Clary heard something that sounded like a potted vase shatter. She turned towards it, and found a small boy, maybe around seven to nine years old, wearing dirty clothes and with disheveled black hair, and tanned skin, standing in front of the scattered remains of something that was made of dried clay. The boy seemed to be apologizing to the owner of the stand of where the he must have gotten the pot, and was trying to pick up the pieces, attempting not to cry. The owner was yelling at him, the man held what looked like a riding crop in one hand, threatening the boy with it. Clary looked around, trying to see if the boy's parents were anywhere. She couldn't see anyone coming to him, but the boy kept looking up with a pleading expression on his face.
She followed his gaze towards a group of men, all dressed the same way. The men had something like shawls around their heads as well, there were six of them, except the one in front seemed to have taken off his shawl. He looked at the boy, Clary assumed he was the father, the way the kid kept looking at him, but he didn't do anything. The father had the same expression on his face as when Clary had begged her mother to help her clean the grape juice she had spilled on Luke's couch in his house. That expression that said You did this, now you face the consequences. But this was too much, even Jocelyn had had some pity in her eyes, but this man didn't even seem to care about the trouble his son was in.
"Clary, where are you going?" Chris asked her as she began to weave her way through people towards the boy.
"I'm going to help someone." She said simply as she searched her pocket for money, and pulled out a wad of it.
"Clary you can't help every person you see," he tried to grab a hold of her arm again, but she twisted it away before he could. He looked at her with his deep black eyes for only a second, but then he nodded, as if giving her consent.
She ran towards the boy, careful not to run too fast so that she used her Shadowhunter speed. The man was already raising his arm, his riding crop high in the air. Clary's eyes rapidly scanned the area, only to determine that no one was watching. Or rather, they chose to ignore it. They knew what was happening, but it didn't bother them. This either happens all the time, or they're too afraid to stop it.
As fast as her normal human pace could take her, Clary shot past people, catching some insulted stares and perhaps some cursing, if she spoke Arabic. By the time she had caught up to where the boy and the shop owner were, she grasped him by the upper arm, pulled him back, and raised her arm to stop the riding crop from hitting either of them. Thwack. The crop was painful, but it was nothing compared to the blows she'd gotten from the bamboo stick earlier. Still, on some level she could feel the sting of where the riding crop made slammed into her skin, right on her forearm. Clary assumed that if her shirt sleeve were there, it would have been sliced through.
Suddenly, everyone was watching them. Women and children had gasped at the sight of the shop owner attacking the foreign, white haired girl who had been kind to them all. Some people were yelling at him, or were they yelling at her, for throwing herself to protect the boy. Either way, she didn't care. Clary calmly unclenched her right arm, the one that had been whipped, and revealed the money that she had there. Giving it to the shop owner, who didn't know whether to accept it or not, she noticed that behind the row of vases that he sold, was a box full of not quite fresh fruits. There were apples with rotten holes, and bruised bananas, there were pineapples and kiwis and baskets of blueberries mixed with strawberries. He was going for the fruit, but knocked down one of the vases….
While the shop owner seemed to be counting his money, Clary used this advantage to very quickly, using some of Sebastian's speed, snatch a small basket of fruits and a cluster of not so bruised bananas. Still holding the boy's upper arm with her left hand, she pulled him off a couple off stores down, and hid in one them. It sold scarfs and shawls and decorative blankets, so they could hide behind all of them.
"Here," she said kneeling down on one knee, though she knew that the boy couldn't speak English. She handed him the fruits and let him go.
"Be careful next time," She whispered to him, "There might not be anyone to help you, so don't go back near that guy, okay?"
She stood back up, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and turned around to go back to where Chris had stayed. But before she could take three steps, she felt a tug on her shirt sleeve. She looked back and saw the little boy looking up at her. It felt very weird for someone to look up at her, most of the time she was the one who had to be looking up at someone, so this made her feel more in charge, responsible for the boy.
"Yes?" she asked.
To her surprise, he answered in perfect English, "Thank you. You saved me from harm and have given me food. You truly are the white angel." His little voice was so cute, and his big bright brown eyes caught her heart.
And with that he scampered away, not even giving her a chance to say 'Your welcome,' or to ask where he had learned English.
Clary felt a strange feeling in her heart, and tried to determine what is was. By the time she made it back to Chris, he looked at her and asked, "What's wrong? You look like something's puzzling you."
She could only answer with, "I think my maternal instincts have kicked in back there."
Chris gave her a scrutinizing look, then softened his features while saying, "Well you still look like Clary, you're all white now, but you're Clary."
They laughed, a strange bubbly feeling that they could share, and continued to wander around town.
Chris and she circled around to a less crowded part of the village, where they could hardly hear people shouting, children laughing and running. The area they were around seemed more malicious and deserted compared to the happy crowd of people, but she didn't feel in any danger. There were little people here, mostly men at one another's front door, chatting in Arabic, drinking alcohol.
"I'm still hungry." She said abruptly.
Chris laughed. "We ate a whole buffet back there and you still want to eat something?"
"That was not eating, that was merely tasting. Plus we were moving, so I walked it all off." Clary pointed out.
"Well, I'm not really hungry anymore, but let's find somewhere we can sit down and eat." He said.
He suddenly eyed her forearm, where she had been hit with the riding crop. She hadn't noticed that she had developed a bruise, but it hadn't hurt at the time, probably from the rush of adrenaline she had while trying to reach the boy first. Chris was walking on her right side, so with his left he brushed his fingers over the bruise. It took all of Clary's restraint to not pull away as soon as fingers came in contact with her skin.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
Clary lied and shook her head. At least it hadn't penetrated her skin, which would have caused it to bleed.
Chris slowly nodded, like he was trying to figure out if she was lying or not. He most likely knew she was, and was just giving her the benefit of the doubt. His eyes scanned the area around them as they walked lazily, until he perked up.
"This way," he said as she followed him in through a doorway which was covered by a cloth hanging in front of it. Ducking under it, Clary found herself in a little pub, the room was mostly made of compacted mud and Earth, but it was cozy, if not a bit too hot. There were wooden tables and chairs around the room, and a main bar counter with high stools for people to sit in. Chris took her to a table all the way on the farthest side of the pub, where an old women gave them menus. Again, Clary couldn't read the language, so she looked mainly at the pictures and sometimes drawings of the food.
"How did you know this place was here?" Clary asked Chris when she decided to just order some Shish Kebabs. "I would have walked right past it, and it's not like there was sign or anything saying it sold food, it just had a door."
Chris put down his menu, and raised his arm towards the women to order. "As a Shadowhunter, you have to know how to recognize these kinds of places. This isn't just an ordinary pub, long ago it served only to Nephilim, and was concealed under glamour so that no one but us could find it."
"Just like Taki's ," Clary breathed.
"Where?" Chris asked, confused.
"Never mind, so how do you recognize places like these?" Clary had to wait for her answer, as the women who had given them their menus came, and they both pointed to the things that they wanted. The women quickly looked at it, and nodded, walking away.
"The key to finding these places, is feel. You'll have to feel the atmosphere, recognize it. Sometimes there may also be glamour, such as the waitress being a warlock, or the name of the place hidden behind it in languages that humans wouldn't recognize." He explained.
"Languages such as demonic ones?" she asked, fully immersed in their conversation.
"Exactly, there might also be runes inscripted secretly underneath windows, over doorways, etc." He added, "I can't teach you by telling you, just try it. Feel this place, recognize its air, and the way it comforts you slightly, as if you belong here."
Clary did, and slowly, she began to feel what he described. When she first entered, she felt cozy, relaxed. However, now she could feel at one with this place, her blood called out to it, and she could literally feel the souls of the hundreds of other Shadowhunters that have come here before her.
"Can you feel it?" Chris asked, watching her face for a reaction.
Clary nodded her head. "It's like, like I was meant to be here. No, like I've been here before." She always felt confident at Taki's, but she never remembered feeling this. Now she knew why the gang always liked going there, it wasn't because they preferred it. Their blood called to it.
She relaxed in her chair, making all the tension leave her body. "Well, you do learn something every day." She gave the pub a small grin.
Chris returned her grin, even though she hadn't directed it at him, and leaned away from the table as the old women was back with their food. Clary's Kebabs were steaming, and looked juicy and delicious. She bit into it, it tasted juicy too, with a bit of spice. She looked over at what Chris had ordered and saw that he had a small bowl of soup, when he lifted his spoon, she saw pieces of chopped up cauliflower and carrot.
"I thought you said that you weren't really hungry?" She looked at him suspiciously, lifting another Kebab to her mouth.
"I always feel like I never eat enough when I'm around you, plus it would be rude of me to just sit here and watch you eat, so naturally I ordered something small." Chris said, a slight teasing tone in his voice with a crooked smile.
Clary suppressed an embarrassed blush. People always made fun of her for her ability to eat so much, despite her small form. Chris laughed, and as they continued eating, Chris commenting her on how 'nobody was going to steal her food, no need to eat so fast' as where Clary would kick his shins and say he'd better finish his soup before she took it, when a group of men walked into the pub.
She tried not to stare as she sluggishly recognized the group. Six of them, all wearing the same outfits. Baggy looking black pants, beige boots, a red belt and black shirt with blue sleeves, as well as a blue cape over it. They looked exactly like Aladdin's father from 'The King of Thieves.' Except this time they were all covered in shawls, so Clary couldn't identify which one was the boy's father from earlier.
She felt someone's gaze on her, and quickly turned back to Chris before she could make eye contact with one of the six men that were watching her.
"Chris, do you see those men that just walked in?" She whispered quietly, trying not to move her mouth too much and disguising it as she took another bite of her last Kebab.
Chris, noticing her overly calm demeanor, looked at the men without moving his head, his eyes moving, watching the men as they each took a seat at the bar. He nodded.
"One of those guys is the father of the little boy I save from earlier," She said. She didn't know why she was whispering, they probably couldn't understand her anyway. But if the little boy could speak English, he probably learned it from someone close.
Chris didn't say anything, so Clary said, "I don't like the look of them, maybe we should leave." Before she could even finish her sentence, she saw Chris's eyes widen, he swore under his breath, and he quickly raised his hand while searching his pocket with the other, taking out money and leaving it on the table.
Catching Clary's questioning gaze, he said under his breath, "You're right, we have to leave. Now." He stood up, taking Clary's hand in his and quickly exited the pub, he looked in both directions of the street, and turned left. Clary couldn't remember which way was back towards the house, so she assumed he did.
She was about to say that she was glad he agreed with her, but what was with the hurry, when just as they turned the corner of the street, and saw that the men had left the pub as well.
And were coming their way.
"Chris what is going on?" She asked quickly, picking up her pace so that Chris wasn't dragging her and she was right next to him. Seeing that she could keep up, he released her hand.
Still walking fast, he said, "I thought something was familiar about those guys when I saw them back when you were helping that little boy."
"Wait, you know them" Clary asked Chris and she turned another corner. The streets were rather empty, and she could tell Chris didn't like that. They would need cover, so they went to the more crowded streets, where men were crowding doors, clubs and liquor shops filled to the brim with intoxicated people, both male and female. Though the females here seemed a little more promiscuous than earlier, their clothes slipping off of their shoulders while they sat rather close to the men.
Chris picked up his speed. Clary couldn't see the men anymore, but was that good or bad?
"I didn't know them," Chris answered a few more streets later, "Valentine did. You see, those men used to be Shadowhunters."
"Used to be?" Clary asked as they swerved around a couple of drunk guys running down the street.
"Yeah, used to be. When Shadowhunters are penalized for something they did, they are stripped of their marks." He said.
"And what did these guys do to get their marks stripped?" Clary hated being so ignorant on stuff like this.
"For assisting Valentine in a crime he committed back then, it was just after Jocelyn organized everyone to come and hunt down those who were still a part of the Circle. I don't remember what it was that they did, but I guess punishments here are much crueler than in other places, so they were stripped of their marks." Suddenly, up ahead, three of the men in blue were waiting, so Chris sidestepped into an alley and run down another street.
"Then why are they chasing us?" Clary was so confused.
"Valentine had told them after to not worry about anything, that he would help them regain their marks. I remember about nine years ago, we met up with them, and they were angry at Valentine, because he still hadn't given them their marks. We had to run away and escape from them then. I was only about seven or eight, but even so they recognize me because I look just like Valentine. I should have known they could have been here." Chris continued to curse as they dove into another alley.
"So they're chasing us for revenge?" Clary questioned. That was just stupid. "Do they know that Valentine is dead?"
"Of course they know, that's why they chase us. The sins of the father will be visited upon the children. They either hope that I am continuing what Valentine began, and will threaten us in order to get what they want, or will kill us at their leisure." Chris continued, a grim look on his face.
Seeing the look on Clary's face, he added, "And yes, they'll kill you too, even if they don't remember Valentine having a daughter, they've probably already heard the news that's been going on around the Shadowhunter world recently, plus the fact that you're with me and that your appearance is a lot more like mine now."
Clary pouted, considering that she was going to ask him that, but she also had another question in mind, "I wasn't going to ask that," she lied, "I was going to say that if all of their marks are stripped, why are we running from them, they're just mundanes. Plus, can't you just, like poof us back to the house, the way you did when you took me there first, or when you and Jace left from the library back in the Institue. That trinket that you talked about when I got here, better yet, why not open a Portal?"
Chris answered her more steady than she thought he would, "For your fist question, we are running from them because if I remember correctly, two of the men chasing us are warlocks, rather nasty ones, I can't remember everything about it but I do remember some crucial details the last time Valentine and I had to escape from them, ones that I'd hate to get into."
Clary felt so weird on the inside, for the past few months, she had always felt two side, her side, where there was her mother, Jace, Simon, etc, and Valentine's side, where there was Sebastian and all the other henchmen that Valentine had under him. Never in her life did she ever think she'd have to run away from Valentine's enemies, who she'd assume were on her side. The fact that she was made her begin to struggle with what side she was on now.
But now was no time to consider goods and bads, because Chris wasn't finished, "As for your second question, the trinket that I use to transport us to home works on rechargeable energy. Meaning that when I use it once, I either have to feed it more energy, or wait for it to replenish itself. The trinket requires a week's worth of refueling, kind of stupid, I know. We also can't open a Portal because the house isn't able to just be Portaled into, there is magic restraining that from happening."
"So the only way in is through the front door?" Clary asked.
"Exactly," he said, glad that she was all caught up now.
They continued running, making beelines through people, avoiding the light from lanterns and hugging shadows. Whenever Clary thought they had ran far enough, or that they had lost them, they would pop out of nowhere. Chris tried to run through crowds of people, to hide themselves, but there weren't that many people, plus the only crowds they could seem to find were in front of bars and such, but to be able to find those while get back home seemed too much work. While they had been running, Clary had put on the shawl that she had purchased earlier, and tried to wrap in around her head as well as possible. It wasn't that hard to look for two white haired people.
"This is ridiculous. Can't we just run as fast as we can back to the house? I can assure you I can keep up with you." Clary suggested as they doubled back as they saw a blue robed figure up ahead.
"I have no doubt that you can, but remember they have warlocks and if we try to make a break for it they'll probably use magic to stop us." Chris countered.
"Then why haven't they done so yet?" Clary really didn't think it was that impossible. In these types of moments all she wanted to do was run, run, run, but Chris wasn't letting her do that.
"They're trying to tire us out, so that they can enjoy themselves as they punish us," Chris said.
"You know, this isn't what I'd expect from you. I would have imagined that you confronted them all and kick all of their asses, even with the warlocks, laugh in their faces when they demand what they want, that kind of stuff." Clary muttered. Actually, it was what she wanted to do right now. Show them who they're dealing with, why not? They picked a fight, let's see how long they last before they beg for mercy….
Clary stopped her thoughts as she realized what was happening with her. Sebastian's instincts were kicking in, she wanted to do what Sebastian would do in this. Not only did she have his strength and knowledge, she had his way of thinking. So far, she assumed she had been suppressing it, maybe she's too stubborn to let another mind take over hers, but now, in the heat of chase, she let her boundaries slip.
Chris looked back at her while running. What about him? Was he running instead of fighting because now Clary had his mentality? Does the rune not only replicate people's traits, but steal them from them? But Chris was still pretty strong, stronger than her still, but maybe only his though process was stolen?
Well now was a lousy time to figure that out.
Chris spoke with his head over his shoulder, "Would you prefer we stop and fight? I'm only doing this because I assumed you wouldn't want to."
Oh, he was doing it for her.
"I-" suddenly a huge crowd exited from a building, Clary didn't smell much alcohol on them, so she knew it wasn't a bar or something. She and Chris together lunged themselves into the crowd, ducking their heads and hunching their shoulders. There were a lot of people, enough that Clary hoped they could figure out what to do in this situation. The people around her began to move, and Clary followed them in order to stay concealed within them. She followed the crowd, which seemed to be heading down the street, probably going home, when she realized she couldn't find Chris.
Clary turned on her heel, looking back, and seeing that the group she and Chris had gotten into had split in two. The other group was heading towards the opposite direction as Clary's, and she didn't know how long she could stay with hers before the group dispersed and there wasn't so many to hide within. Not to mention that she had no clue how to get around here, so she couldn't go off too far, she'd lose Chris. She checked every head in the group of people she was with. No, he wasn't here, meaning that he was in the other group. What luck.
She didn't know what to do, her nerves felt all wound up and she was starting to feel panic in her chest. She hardly ever got lost, it was impossible for her to get lost at home, she needed to focus on something, so she continued to walk with the crowd, who were taking such a slow pace, when she felt a little tug on her shirt sleeve. Clary almost thought it was it was Chris and her heart did a little jump, when she realized that it wasn't Chris.
It was the little boy from before.
Clary was more surprised at the fact that she felt relieved at the thought of finding Chris, than finding the little boy. Or rather, him finding her.
The little boy pulled her to the edge of the crowd, which Clary was trying to not do, but then she noticed that there was a space between the building that all the people came out from and the next building, a small narrow alley of sorts, so she allowed herself to be pulled into it, concealing both of them in darkness.
When they were both away from the crowd, Clary turned to the little boy and asked, "What are you doing here? Isn't it a little dark for you to be out?"
Instead of answering her, he bluntly, "My dad wants to kill you."
Clary's blood froze. She was such a naïve moron sometimes, how could she have forgotten that the boy was the son of one of the men who wanted to kill them. Maybe this was a trap, in that case, was the kid working with his father, did he pull her out here so that his dad could catch him.
Before either of them could say anything else, Clary whipped around her backpack and pulled out her stele, holding it out in front of her.
The boy's eyes widened, seeming to sense that he knew of her suspicion, "No, no. I don't want to hurt you! I want to help!" He held his hands out in front of him, his face becoming vulnerable, the same expression he had on him when the man from the shop tried to hit him with his riding crop. Clary felt guilt in her stomach, for causing him to be that scared, but how did she know if he was telling the truth?
"Why would you help me?" Clary asked sharply, lowering her stele, but keeping it in between them. She absently wondered if he knew what a stele was. If a man gets his marks taken away, can his children still be a Shadowhunter? Clary thought they could, Nephilim blood is always dominant.
"You saved me from getting hurt, now I have to save you. It's the rules." He explained.
"What rules?" Clary asked.
"My mother always told me that if someone does something nice to you, you return the kindness, as least, she used to always tell me." His eyes had gotten sad, and he hugged his arms around himself. He was so short, he only made it up to Clary's stomach, but in his eyes she could see someone smart and intelligent. "You remind me of my mom you know? She was the only one who would ever save me from getting hurt."
Clary sighed, and put her stele in her jeans. She kneeled down, "Where did you learn English?"
"My father always travels between here and Europe, so I learned the language." He told her, "Will you let me help you?"
Clary smiled slightly, feeling warmth from this child who was trying to help her. "Wouldn't you father get angry at you for helping me? I can imagine that he doesn't even know you're here."
He shook his head, "He never cares about me, he doesn't care where I am, as long as I listen to him. He's always angry."
"How can you help me though?" Clary, while thankful to the kid, was silently counting the seconds since she and Chris separated. Did he know where she was? Was he looking? She wondered if he was still in that crowd. "Besides, I have a friend that I need to find."
"Don't worry, I'll find him for you!" He looked exited, like he was happy to help. It's just like little kids to be happy to help with grown-up stuff. "But first, you have to hide!"
"Okay but where?" She asked as he grabbed hold up her hand, helped her stand even though she could do it all by herself, and pulled her even deeper into narrow alleyway. He made her face the wall that was the side of the building where the huge crowd had come from. She felt magic, like a glamour was hiding something from her vision, so she used the method she always used to past it. She imagined that she was scrubbing it off, like paint, peeling back layers, until she could see the door that was there. It was wooden, and chipped and cracked, Clary could have easily broken it down even without Sebastian's strength.
The boy opened it, Clary stopped before entering to ask him, "Wait, what is this place?"
He turned around, feet on the threshold, "It's, a place for entertainment, I guess, don't worry, I have a plan."
"Is this place for Shadowhunters? Why was it hidden?" She felt ridiculous asking these things to a young child. It should be the other way around.
"This place used to be for Shadowhunters, but that was a long time ago. This used be the only entrance." He beckoned her further, so she stepped in through the door, and the boy closed it behind her. They were hidden darkness, but Clary's eyes soon adjusted, and she could see things better. She could hear the kid rummaging around for something.
"By the way, what's your name?" Clary asked. She had to stop referring to him as, 'the boy' or 'the kid.'
He paused, as if no one had ever stopped to learn anything about him. Then a green light pierced the darkness, a witchlight stone that he held in his hand. They were in what seemed to be a storage room, there were boxes piled against each other, some over flowing with cloths and small flats.
"My mother named me Ghayth, because it means rain, or showers. On the day I was born, it rained heavily, something that hardly happens here, and since my mother almost never sees rain, she named me it, because I represented the one happy day that everyone had, and the happiness that I had brought her." His eyes were happy, before they darkened, "But my father said my name was no longer to be Ghayth, that I would need name that would work better in Europe, so he named me Brennan."
"Brennan isn't a bad sounding name," Clary meant it.
"Yes, but it means 'sorrow'. My father said that I've brought nothing but sadness to him, that I've been of no use to him." He hung his head, showing that for a young boy, he had been through more than he let on.
Clary felt that twinge of maternal caring unfurl in her chest again. She sighed, At this rate I'm gonna be attached to this kid…
"I don't know about your father, but so far, you haven't brought me any sorrow, Ghayth," she said, using his preferred name.
Ghayth smiled, "Really? Even when I cause you to get hit by that riding crop?"
She nodded, returning his smile, "Don't even mention it, it's what friends do."
"Friends?" His eyes grew wide and his smile grew wider, "Thank you white angel!"
Clary tried not to appear taken aback, "Okay, you've told me your name, now I'll tell you mine, just so that you don't make it a habit of calling me 'white angel.' I'm Clary."
"Clary," he said, saying it slow.
"Yes, Clary. Now, what do are we going to do here? Should I just wait, or…" Clary was cut off when all of a sudden a light flared up in the room. A group of five young women, older teenagers really, about seventeen to nineteen years old, walked in, two of them holding torches. Some began to rummage through the boxes, looking for clothes, as they chatted in Arabic. Before Clary could hide, which was really stupid of her for not doing, one of them spotted her, and began to talk to her, pointing at her and calling the others. She of course, couldn't understand a word.
Before any confrontation could occur, Ghayth approached the oldest looking one, having hidden his witchlight, and started talking to her. He kept pointing at Clary, and then at the boxes of clothes, and back to Clary. The lady shook her head many times, yelling at him, but Ghayth was persistent. It seemed that they were arguing about something.
Clary couldn't help but feel nervous as the other four girls kept staring at her, she tried not to look, wanting yet not wanting to know what they were talking about. They kept making hand gestures, pointing at her chest and legs, and making indications that she could only assume was about her height. Then started taking out some clothes from the boxes, holding it up, then look at her, then shake it as if they didn't like it. Like they're were picking something out for her.
What was Ghayth doing?
After what seemed like an eternity of awkwardly standing there, Ghayth and the women seemed to have come to an agreement, she nodded towards the girls, who grabbed what they had been looking for, and walked out of the room, but not before one of them gave a small bundle of red cloth to Ghayth.
As soon as they were gone, Clary said, "What was that all about?"
Ghayth looked strange, like he was trying to break something to her, but didn't know how, "Well, there's been a change of plans."
"Change of plans? What was your original plan?" She asked.
"To have you wait here while I looked for your friend so that I could have you two hide here until I tell you my dad and his group of friends were gone." He said pleadingly, as if he were trying to convince her that was what he really had been trying.
"Okaaaaay, then what changed?" She didn't like where this was going.
"Well, the ladies that just walked in here, they're performers here. They have this sort of, gypsy dance. They perform it here, it's kind of a big thing in this village." He explained, his face getting red.
"Yeeeeess," she dragged the word out, wanting him to get to the point already.
He sighed, and blurted it all out, "They said that they won't let you stay here, and that if you don't leave they'll report you to authorities, or will ask some of their body guards –yes they have body guards because some men can't keep their hands to themselves- to kick you out. I begged for the lady to let you stay, I know her, and I've helped her run errands a lot, but she says only performers can stay here."
Clary's mind made it to his point before he could finish, "So you mean-"
"By any chance can you dance?" He said holding out the red cloth to her.
"What!?" Clary shrieked.
"It's the only way, or else they'll kick you out." He pleaded.
Clary could think of a million things she could do instead of this, including using a glamour and hide behind the boxes and continue to wait for Ghayth while he found Chris.
She explained this to him, but he shook his head, saying, "It's only a matter of time before my father and his men find you, and trust me, they're very good at finding. My dad doesn't like entering this place, nor does he like gypsy dances, so if you're disguised as one he won't find you!"
She pouted, trying to find a way to say no to Ghayth, who was unintentionally making puppy eyes at her, reminding her a lot of Simon when they were little, when he would lose his glasses and run around everywhere to find them, his pupils large and panicked.
She relented, grabbing the red clothes from his hands, and making him turn away while she hid behind one of the boxes. Clary felt awkward, feeling with her hands the soft texture of the cloth. It was dark, deep, red, and as Clary magically figured out how to put it on, for she discovered that it had various parts to slip on and tie, she tried to figure out as much about her current situation as possible.
"So, how long until the next show?" she asked Ghayth.
He cocked his head to the side, "About, twenty minutes, I think."
Clary looked up from where she was hiding, looking at the back of his head, "Twenty minutes! They expect me to be able figure out how to dance like them and memorize their choreography in twenty minutes!"
"Choreography?" Ghayth asked, not knowing what that was.
"The dance moves, you know, their routine." She explained.
"Oh, I guess they'll just put you in the back, there are more of them than just the ones we saw, so they'll probably have you so that no one in the crowd sees you." He said.
"I guess I'll just have to copy their moves." Clary was slightly grateful for the piñata less- training she and Chris had gone through earlier. That required much of concentrating on others every move, predicting what they're doing next, and that was when they were hardcore, barely visible to the human eye fighting. If what little she knew about gypsy dancing was correct, it was a bunch of smoothly coordinate movements that flowed together, but was much slower so Clary could watch it. With Sebastian's sight, she'd be able to imitate the people around her.
Feeling better about this, she glanced down at herself, which didn't really give her much of a thought about how she looked, so she walked around the boxed filled room until she found a mirror propped up on the wall. Clary looked at herself, then rubbed her eyes and looked again.
By the Angel…. If only mom could see me now….
Even Clary had to admit, she looked beautiful. The outfit she was wearing was exactly like Selena Gomez's red gypsy looking outfit in her video 'Come and Get it'
Writer's POV: I didn't know how to describe what she wore, and I really liked Selena's look in that video, well that red one in particular, so if you wanna know how it is, just look it up. My apologies for any inconveniences.
Her white hair looked dazzling, like snow, she wore a transparent red hood that reached her forehead, and she pulled her hair out from behind so that she could have it in front. The red of her outfit made her skin pale, but in a gorgeous way. Her large black eyes captured the eye as she looked at her small face, and she wondered if she could wear some red lipstick, to put more color in her face. She was petite, but that was what made her look out of this world.
She looked like an anime goddess.
Ghayth came walking towards her, stared at her, and then his eyebrows creased, as if he was thinking long and hard about something. Then, with a look of determination, he put his hands in his pockets, and pulled out what looked like that jewelry that the gypsies wear around their heads, the jewels laying on their foreheads. He stood on a box near her, and carefully put the head jewelry on her head, over the transparent red hood.
The small jewels stopped just above the spot between her eyebrows, a red ruby with little diamonds hanging around it. By itself, the head rest didn't look like much, but it completed Clary's outfit. She was a bit embarrassed, because the outfit left her legs and arms bare, and was pretty much see through except for her chest and lower section. The strands that hung loose seemed to give the illusion that she was fully clothed though.
Ghayth told her, his voice quiet, "The jewels were my mother's, I'll lend them to you."
Clary was stupefied, "No! You don't have to lend me anything," her hand was already reaching for the jewels on her head, but Ghayth stopped her.
"My mother was the only person who could make the jewels shine, but it looks like you can too." He smiled faintly. For a kid who was only about nine, he was very mature, and held too much sadness that no child should ever have to carry, but with sadness, came awareness, he knew what was going on around him, and Clary respected him for that.
So if he was willing to let her borrow, because she was going to return it, of that she did not doubt, that meant he really must want her to. Clary put her hand down, placed it on his cheek, allowing him to lean on it for a few seconds, before she removed it and said, "Alright! Let's stops wasting time, because I think we've been doing a lot of that!" She smiled at him, "Now, go find my friend. His name is Chris, and he looks just like me, same hair, same eyes, we're practically twins except for the height thing, you'll know him when you see him,"
"Wait, don't you want me to translate for you!" he argued.
"I'll do fine, don't worry. What bothers me is if Chris will trust you or not," Clary paused for a second, then sighed, "If he doesn't trust you or something, tell him that if he doesn't come with you, that I'll never burn his bacon the way he likes it."
Ghayth looked very confused, "Burnt bacon?"
"Don't question what I just told you to say, just say it." Clary eyed him, "Now move, I got a dance to figure out how to do." He ran through the boxes and out the old door.
All this was starting to get to Clary's head. She had to disguise herself as a gypsy dancer and dance like one, all in the next twenty minutes while a boy she just met yet already seemed to adore was in charge of finding her brother because she couldn't go out and find him due to the fact that there are men out there who want to kill them all because of something her father did, not to mention that those men have warlocks amongst them who are capable of doing things that scare even Chris which really put a stone in her stomach.
"And what do I do during all of this? Dance like a gypsy, why not? It's not like anyone could come in through the door of the place and instantly kill me?" Clary was starting to pace nervously, and she was talking to herself, and chatting very fast. Not good signs.
She forced herself to stay put, and take a deep breath. Then another, and another. Empty your mind….She closed her eyes, getting a feel for her surroundings around her, slowing her heart rate, and heightening her senses, if she could do this, then copying a bunch of movements won't be so hard. She could do this.
But you don't have to! Her mind raged, who's gonna stop you from hiding in ones of these large boxes until Ghayth gets here! Who's gonna find you when you use , becyour awesome stealth and run away from all this!
Ghayth stopped her. She'd only known him for a few minutes, but the sight of him as he looked up at her, calling her white angel, made her maternal senses kick in. Also, she could feel a bit of Sebastian in her, telling her to accept the challenge. On some point, Clary could feel herself want to do this, to try this. She's seen some gypsy dances before, and would always be left with the sudden temptation to try it. Didn't all girls, or was it just her?
But why?! Her inner Clary screamed.
Why not? Her other half, the more Sebastian half, argued. It's not like these people have any expectations of you, not like you'll see them again after tonight.
Someone was calling to her Arabic, a young women who stood in the doorway, beckoning her to come. As Clary walked over to her, her mind clear and vivid, her last thoughts leaving her head as the last of her worries left her.
Why not….
Lacie: Again, I made this chapter too long for what I wanted, so I guess the whole Arabia thing will carry on to the next chapter. Hey Chris is back.
Chris: You horrible person, I wanted to see Clary dance.
Clary: Chris you're an attic jostled bumrag, shut your mouth cause its full of clart.
Chris: ….O-o you okay there?
Lacie: Um, Clary, wrong book series.
Clary: I don't care what book series he's in, he'll always be a ninny
Chris: I thought I was a bumrag?
Clary: You're a ninny.
Chris: What is that?
Clary: NINNYNINNYNINNYNINNY
Lacie: ENOUGH!
…..
Lacie: Good, anyways you guys. I just realized that school is coming WAY too fast. That's why I updated on this, unusual day.
Chris: Yeah, what happened to Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
Clary: You barking bumrag she updated on a Thursday too.
Lacie: I update around those days, and Clary, I think you need a book series check.
Clary: I'll do the thing if you forgive me
Please review or favorite or follow, thanks for reading, we post a new chapter every tues/wedne/thurs/day!
Lacie: ReViEw rEvIeW REVIEW
Chris: Start the next chapter I want to see clary dance.
*smack*smack**smack*
{Forgive Lacie-Abyss, for any, umm typo's and not good writing}