Lacie: A MOLE IS A UNIT, OR HAVE YOU HEARD?
Chris: What?
Lacie: CONTAINING SIX TIMES TEN TO THE TWENTY THIRD!
Clary: By the angel someone shut her up! *knows what she's talking about*
Chris: Someone elaborate!
Lacie: THAT'S A SIX WITH TWENTY THREE ZEROES AT THE END
Clary: She's become victim to Highschool chemistry! D: Glad I dropped out of school
Lacie: moles suck. Gosh it's confusing….
Chris: moles? *pictures little furry creature*
Lacie: No, not that mole, mole short for molecule or something, and we're learning about them and they are so confusing, but my teacher taught us this song, and now it's stuck to my head
Clary: Gosh I hated science….and math…..and school actually…..
Chris: MWAHAHAHAH #homeschooled
Lacie: Anways, sorry for always bothering you guys with my personal life, it just feels, like, idk, I need to vent to people, even if you just scroll past these little skit things…
Clary: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Lacie has a proposition for you guys at the end of the chapter
Chris: *looks up moles on laptop* WHAT IS THIS
Lacie: I TOLD YOU
Clary: MY EYES, MY BRAIN! :CCCCCC
Lacie: KILL IT, KILL IT WITH FIRE *shuts laptop and burns it* hehe… as you all know, I don't own TMI, but I do own Chris (ask permission for him, cuz he's mine *holds protectively*)and white haired Clary *holds hand* and in my head we are all one big insane family
Enjoy!
Chris POV
Clary's hair had stopped going back to normal in the last few days. He noticed it the next day as they were sitting in front of the house, the sun already setting and the northern lights becoming very visible. It was the ninth day, nine as in nine of Clary's episodes have already occurred. He had reminded her yesterday when it was almost time for her rune to move, and that they should start heading back to the house if she wanted to get there in time, but she had refused, saying that whether she had her episode on the worlds softest bed or strapped to a concrete table made no difference as to how she felt, so she laid out on the cold ground, squeezing Chris's fingers until they turned grey (he has black blood, so they wouldn't turn purple), her eyes never leaving the lights above.
Something within Chris stirred every time he saw Clary in this state. The way her eyes looked so delicate and bare, fragile, as if she was just ready to burst. She no longer screamed, but she groaned and strained and frequently made whimpers of pain as her hand squeezed his even tighter. He didn't like just sitting there, watching her go through it, he didn't like the fact that he had no control over what went on, that this was pain that he didn't start nor could he end. Or at least that's what he told himself at first, when he couldn't explain why he felt so unsettled watching the first few days as her rune went through those turns. Then he realized it as empathy.
His attention turning back to her hair, he was caught by how the morph from straight white hair to curly red head was at a standstill, as if her hair couldn't make up its mind as to whether or not it wanted to go back to normal, or whether it liked how it was just the way it was. He hadn't asked Clary about it, he assumed it was something she couldn't control, but he felt like maybe it was something she was unconsciously sure of. He briefly wondered that, if her hair continued like this, after the rune was completed how would it be? Would go back to white and straight, or return to her original hair style. Or would it continue to be as it was now; her roots were white, waving down to the top of her ears and from there it seemed to change into a lighter shade of orange, curls at her tips. It looked as if she had dyed her hair that way, and curled the tips with a curler, but it was all natural.
Or as natural as the circumstances permit…..
"What are you doing?" Clary asked, not looking over her shoulder. They were sitting only about five meters from the house, wearing warm clothing and a couple of heat runes. Clary was sitting on the ground cross legged, a sketchpad on her legs and a box of color pencils on her right. Chris was a little bit behind her, leaning back on his elbows to look at the sky, but really, he'd been staring at her as she colored what was above them.
"Hm?" he said, as if he hadn't heard her.
"You've been quiet, like you're thinking about something, but I get the feeling that you were looking at me," she switched for a bright green color in her box. The colors on the sketch pad seemed to swarm and mix just as naturally as the real thing, and he marveled at her artistic skills.
"I was just watching you draw," he said casually, "Does it bother you?"
"Sort of, I feel like I'm being judged," she said honestly, still not looking up.
He cocked his head to the side, "Hasn't anyone ever watched you as you drew, I'd imagine a lot of people did."
"Well, some people, friends mostly, but I feel uncomfortable," her voice shied down.
He chuckled, "What, afraid people will hate what you draw?"
"It's every artist fear!"
He rolled his eyes. From what he saw, which was very little, everything she made was a work of art just a frame away from being put into a museum. Her drawings and sketches surprised even him, and blew him away. She was excellent at what she could do.
He didn't say that though, he had a feeling that no matter how many times anyone repeated that to her, she wouldn't believe it.
He could have stayed like that all day, sitting on the cold ground and watch as Clary's small hand created masterpieces, until she stood up and dusted herself off.
"Is there a town anywhere nearby?" she asked.
Sitting up, he said, "There should be one about a mile from here, why?"
"No reason, I just don't feel like sitting on the ground and letting my butt get frostbite on the ground."
The thought made him smile.
And Clary saw that smile.
"You pervert," she commented, yet she didn't say it in an insulting way. She said it like it was fact.
He raised an eyebrow, "If I'm the pervert, then how did you know what I was thinking of?"
Clary rolled her eyes, "Oh please, don't use that line. People only say it to be smart-asses."
"At least mine would be smart and yours would be recuperating from frostbite," he added.
She rolled her eyes again, but this time with a smile, "Besides, I only knew what you were thinking of because I have a copy of your brain right here." She tapped at her head.
"You should feel proud to be bestowed with such a collection of knowledge," he remarked as she collected her things from the ground.
"If you say so," she said airily.
She was about to pick up her sketchbook, but Chris was curious. Right before she grabbed it, he plucked it from under her fingers, stepping back with it.
"Hey!" Clary quickly turned to him, her hands snatching up empty air, "Give it back, Chris." Extending her hand, she faked patience, even though he knew she was internally edgy.
"Just a quick peek, I want to see what you've been drawing," Chris began to thumb through the pages so that he could start from the beginning.
"No! My sketchpad is like my diary, I don't like it when people just nonchalantly try to look through it," she reached for the sketchpad but he sidestepped her. "Chris I'm serious!" Chris almost laughed at the whining tone in her voice.
"You want to be an artist, so you should get used to people looking at what you draw, besides, this way I can tell you what looks good and what doesn't," he looked at the first page which was a drawing made with oil pastels of a girl falling down a red tunnel, her auburn hair flowing up above her, her back to the ground as her hands clutched what appeared to be a key close to her chest. It was a good picture, though what inspired her to draw it he didn't know.
"Out of ten stars, I rate this one an eight," he said, ready to flip to the next.
"Chris stop it!" They played cat and mouse, Chris hardly able to flip the pages because Clary kept throwing herself at him.
"You're going to rip your own sketchpad," he chastised.
She only made a low noise in her throat that sounded like growling, a sound that would have otherwise made him mock her, but he didn't have the time consider it before she suddenly thrust her arm out to him. Chris immediately pulled the sketchpad over his head, knowing she was too short to reach, but she hadn't been aiming at the sketchpad. He noticed just in time as her hand curled into a fist, targeting right for his stomach, and in an act of defense he brought down the sketchpad on her head. Hard.
"Ow!" her hand stopped its trip and rounded back to her head, "That hurt!" she eyes him wearily.
He nodded toward her, keeping the sketchpad close to him, "That punch to my gut would have too."
Then she did something completely childish. She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Exactly what was that supposed to accomplish?" he questioned.
"Sketchpad. Now." She extended her hand once more, this time more demanding.
He sighed, placing it in her open palm. But just before she could take it his hand tightened around it again.
"Christopher!" she yelled.
"I'll give it back on one condition, do you agree?" he asked.
"What's the condition?" she immediately questioned.
"It's not polite to answer a question with a question," he teased.
"What's the condition?" she asked again in the same tone, "There, now I didn't answer your question with a question."
He smirked. "We're going to the town, just like you asked. But when we're there, you're not my sister. Alright?"
"What?" her eyes widened in befuddlement, "Why do you want that?"
"You answered with a question again," he lightly scorned, "As to why…..well, I have my reasons."
"But how can I not be your sister? Do we just tell people we're not siblings?" She was still a bit jarred from his unwonted request.
"Do you accept it or not?" he asked, giving the sketchpad a little tug.
Clary blinked, "Um, sure?"
That was enough for him. Releasing his grip, he watched as Clary quickly snatched back the sketchpad and clutched it to her chest like it was her child.
"Now," she said, "Where's this town again?"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
Writer's POV: WARNING: I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT CANADA, THEREFORE EVERYTHING I WRITE SHALL BE MADE UP IN MY IMAGINATION.
"That looks delicious," Clary said pointing at a stand selling food.
"You don't even know what it is," Chris looked at her like she was nuts.
"It still looks delicious."
They had been walking through the central part of the town, an organized square where stores of just about everything was everywhere. Chris had brought a lot of money with him, just in case. Clary was at his side, her eyes leaving nothing unseen, not satisfied until she's looked at the details of everything that crosses her vision. She was wearing dark pants with ankle boots, and a long, slim red trench coat that ended at her mid thighs. An orange scarf was tied around her neck, and a red beanie rested on her head.
Of course, Chris had been the one to give her the clothes. Clary was so un-vain that she would walk out wearing a large black hoodie that was several sizes too big (in fact she had) so when he said that it was a bit colder that what a hoodie could protect, he offered her the trench coat, scarf and beanie. The pants and boots were all her.
He on the other hand, only wore a black jacket with his red scarf, his hands stuffed into the pockets. Clary kept bringing her hand up to her mouth, breathing into them to keep them warm.
"Chris look!" she had spotted a small store that was selling things like hats, gloves, scarves, etc. He never really liked buying things, so he handed her a wad of money, letting her enter the place. He waited outside, sitting on a bench next to a frozen fountain where instead of water the fountain was filled with about a foot of coins. He absently wondered why there were coins there in the first place, didn't these things work so that you made a wish, then tossed your wish into the water? He always thought it ludicrous that people believed that paying a fountain one measly coin was enough to grant them their wish.
As he sat there, staring at the coins that were once held by hopeful people, wondering why people didn't steal them if they were just right there, when a grown man came to the fountain, wearing a thick black coat. The man fished for something in his pocket, until he pulled out one coin.
Oh great, Chris thought, another fool who has run a dead end and feels the need to try anything…
But the expression on the man's face was not one of hope and the belief of dreams being granted, it was one of someone who had come to term with things, who had been carrying a heavy weight for a long time and was finally throwing it off his back in anger. One of someone who had accepted things for what they were. As the man threw his coin into the fountain, making a clink as the coin hit other coins, Chris asked:
"Aren't you going to make a wish?"
The man turned to him, as if barely realizing he was there. Chris expected the man to raise his eyebrow in surprise at him, a shocked expression, but the man remained neutral.
"This isn't that kind of fountain, son." Then the man walked away, but before pointing to a plaque that Chris hadn't seen that was at the base of the fountain.
The Fountain of Distress: "And with this coin I throw away all that concerns me and sets me at unease, so that I can walk without the weight of the world on my shoulders, and look to the sky"
It was quite a depressing thing for a simple town, Chris had never seen anything like it. The plaque was old, really old, some of the letters were undistinguishable, some were actually written in with a marker, but nonetheless, the fountain still did its job. Looking at all the coins again, he realized they weren't full of hope and wishes, but full of dread and resentment, of pain and anguish. No wonder no one ever stole them, just looking at the fountain made the feeling of depression and anxiety feel contagious.
Chris stood up, deciding to leave the Fountain of Distress for someone else to toss their past away, and walked over to the store that Clary had walked into. She'd been in there for a while, and he didn't know her as someone who would spend their time shopping, so what was taking so long?
His hand was just about to reach for the knob of the door leading into the store when it instantly opened on its own, the door almost hitting him in the forehead had he not stepped back. Clary was on the other side, her hand still on the handle, her head was turned to look over her shoulder.
"Thank you!" she said to the women at a counter, who offered her a small wave, and she almost would've walked into Chris had she not looked up in time.
"Planning on coming inside?" she asked.
"No, I was just going to check up on you," he replied.
Clary let the door close, and walked a couple of steps ahead. "Oh, here you go," she said, extending her arm that held the rest of the money that didn't use.
"Keep it," he said, "What did you buy?"
Clary reluctantly put the money in her coat pocket, as if she wasn't used to keeping other people's money, and reached into the black plastic bag that was hanging from her right arm.
"Well, I got these gloves," she said as she held out a pair of green knit gloves that were cut off at the middle of her fingers so that she could still use them.
"That's all you got?" Chris asked, "It took you that long to buy one pair of gloves?" He couldn't tell, but Clary seemed to have hesitated on something. "Clary…."
Clary huffed, the reached back into the bag and pulled out some fabric. "Here. I got this beanie too."
Chris examined the thing, it was black, and seemed a bit weird for her. "Would this even fit you?"
"It's not for me, Chris" she said.
"Then who-"he started.
"You." She said before he even finished asking.
What?
Clary took the beanie, and on her tip toes, arranged the beanie on his head. She stepped back, taking him in, adjusting his hair, pulling at the edges, until she finally stepped back again, looking proud of herself, like he was one of her paintings.
"Why'd you buy me a beanie?" Chris asked, still a bit put off about it.
Clary hesitated before answering, "I don't know, I saw it, and I felt it rude to buy myself something with someone else's money, so I got you something too."
"It's your money too you know."
Clary shook her head, "How's it mine? I don't even know where it comes from."
"Regardless, the money is ours, not just mine."
She still wasn't convinced.
The smell of a bakery suddenly penetrated his thoughts, and Clary's too, because she inhaled the air like she could eat just by breathing in the smell.
"Clary, are you hungry?" he knew the answer to that question.
"…..a little," she was a liar.
"I have an idea, something to help you get more in tune with your Shadowhunter self. Remember in Saudi Arabia how I told you to recognize places for Nephilim and Downworlders, little restaurants and pubs?" he asked.
She turned back towards him, "Something about feeling the atmosphere, and looking for glamours and hidden messages right?"
He nodded, "Here's a challenge, try to find one of these places."
"How do you even know if there's one here?" she inquired.
"I don't know," he smiled crookedly, "That's your job to find out."
Clary didn't look pleased, but she didn't back down on the challenge either. Of course she wouldn't, even though she wouldn't admit it, she was a Morgenstern at heart, and Morgensterns didn't like to be considered feeble.
She walked all over town, Chris close at her heels. She would momentarily stop walking in the middle of a sidewalk, close her eyes, the open them and keep walking. Whatever she was thinking about was far from him, but he was more than a bit curious in wanting to know.
He did, in fact, know that there was a underground bar in this town. He did his research before they left the house, as he always does before going into a town, and knew that the bar was located beneath a seemingly normal looking gas station.
Now to see if Clary could find it.
He did this just to tease her, to see if she really could find it. If she couldn't then he'd lead her to it, maybe practice some more in future towns, but really, he also needed the time to think. Clary had gotten him a beanie. It wasn't the beanie that surprised him, it was the fact that she got it for him that pushed him back. Chris wasn't used to getting things, especially not gifts, though technically, it was his money (their money) but the fact that he had gotten it in the first place… He couldn't remember ever getting anything like it. His father, Valentine, applied mostly things like training, weapons, lessons in how to kill your enemies, etc. Things like toys, clothes, didn't matter.
Glancing in a store glass, he caught his reflection. Tall, high cheekbones, he was muscular, yet slender. His eyes, black as night, were nothing but empty abysses in the reflection, his skin pale, and his hair, though a pale blonde, seemed to be white, especially with the dark beanie contrasting it. He never considered himself to be handsome, princely, his father had once described him, but he certainly knew he wasn't all that bad looking.
He saw Clary in the reflection a few feet in front of her, her eyes closed again. She was short, very short, yet feisty. She looked so unlike him, yet he could feel how alike they actually were.
After about an hour, Chris was determining whether or not to give Clary and extra five minutes to look, when she suddenly turned her head to the side, so fast he wondered if it hurt her. Her lips made a little 'O' shape, and she dashed off in a direction.
He chased after her, half smiling to himself. She actually found it…..
They were in front of a gas station, and Clary walked right into the place without looking back to see if he had followed or not.
Going in after her, chastising himself for letting her run off on her own like that, he went into the little store that sold things like coffee, donuts, chips, hotdogs, just about anything you'd need at a rest stop. Chris found Clary pacing back and forth in an aisle where they had juices and sodas.
"It should be here…"Clary mumbled to herself.
Chris decided to end the little game now, "Actually, you're right, except it's not, here here."
Clary looked up at him, "What do you mean?"
Taking her wrist, he pulled her to the cashier by the door. The cashier was some teenager with an acne issue, his oily hair looking like a wet mop.
Chris walked up to the cashier, and as casually as possible, he said, "Do you have any pork? Raw? I need about five pounds of it. Bloody, pig."
Clary looked at him like he was crazy, and looked like she was just abou to apologize to the guy, but the guy didn't look surprised or confused at all. Instead, as soon as Chris started speaking, the teen got this strange look about him, as if he were being hypnotized, staring off into another world, and when Chris had finished speaking, the teen slowly got up, got out from behind the counter, and led Clary and Chris to a backroom. He moved a large box, revealing a metal doorway that looked bolt shut, then stood by, not really seeing either of them, waiting.
"Chris," Clary whispered, "What did you….."
"I didn't do anything, someone else already did." Chris took out a stele hidden from within his jacket, and traced an open rune on the door. The sound of a bolt sliding resounded, and the door swung open, a tunnel circling down and lit by witchlight illuminating the descent.
He took Clary by the wrist again, and pulled her to the tunnel, her somewhat reluctantly, but as soon as they were in, the door behind them shut, and the sound of a box being dragged back in front of the door could be heard from behind the door.
"What was that!" Clary demanded as Chris began to descend.
"That was an attendant," Chris answered, "Some places are more secretive than others, and require a bit more than glamour to conceal them. That human back there was hypnotized by the owner of this place to lead Shadowhunters and Downworlders, or anyone who says that particular phrase to him, to the door."
"Is, does the guy get hurt?" Clary asked, almost afraid to.
Chris laughed, "No, the human doesn't remember a thing, and nothing is done to them by anyone. Attendants are handpicked by the owners of anywhere, and they're usually special to them, and if there's no attendant, then there's no business, so owners usually provide some level of protection in case something happens to their attendant."
"Like if they were attacked by someone who knew what they were?" Clary asked, starting to understand.
"Precisely."
"I still don't like it, it feels too, zombie-like," she said eerily.
He laughed, "The closest thing we have to zombies are Forsaken and Silent Brothers, and I can assure you that that," he says pointing in the direction they came from, "Isn't one of them."
Clary POV
The continued to walk down the tunnel, until they reached a door with no lock, just a rope to pull on to open it. The tunnel had gotten cold, as cold as it was outside or more, so when they opened the door a blast of warm air seeped into their bones.
Clary was behind Chris, so she couldn't see much of the interior until she was inside. Her breath caught in her mouth.
The place looked like it had been carved out from the ground. Shiny stalactites embedded with witchlight lit the place up like chandeliers, the green reflecting off of the dark walls that had tiny sparkly crystals in them so that it shone lightly. The place had natural alcoves where Shadowhunters and Downlworlders could sit in and relax. Stalagmites on the ground had been smoothed and removed of their pointy top so that you could sit on them like stools while a round wooden table served as a table. To the left, there was long bar made out of pure stalagmites, smoothed down of course, where warlocks flicked their wrists, causing plates to float up in the air and be stacked neatly behind them into a kitchen behind the bar. A green and copper haired waitress rolled back and forth on roller skates, zooming from table to table. The whole place was full, not an empty table or alcove in sight.
When she saw Chris and Clary standing in front of the doorway, she put her finger to her teeth, a loud, piercing whistle emitting from her.
"Hey! I need an extra table!" pointing to two werewolves, who were in full werewolf form, she shouted, "You two! Beat it! This ain't a buffet! You've been here for three hours, so either pay up or scram!"
The two werewolves growled at her, so she snapped her fingers, causing green sparkles, very much like Magnus's, only less showy-offy, to appear by the scruff of the wolves' necks. Suddenly, as if an invisible hand picked them, the two wolves were plucked up by their throats and were tossed out the doorway.
"Hey Corey! Those two come in ever again, the food's coming out of your paycheck, d'ya hear?" she screamed at someone, Corey, from behind the bar.
She approached them, her flowing hair under the witchlight reminding Clary of water running over dirty pennies. "Hello, sorry for the interruption, my names Holly and I'll be your waitress, a.k.a the person you complain to if your food is too hot, too cold, or if you find a human eye in your soup, NOT," she added, "that that's ever happened before." Her voice sounded very southern for Canada.
She pointed to the table that was just unoccupied, now scrubbed clean, "This way please."
Holly showed them to the table, directing them to the stalagmite seats. Clary expected the seats to be cold, wet, or hard to sit on. They were actually warm, and almost seemed to mold to her so she fit into it perfectly.
"Here are your menus," she said handing them over, "I'll be over soon, but if you ever need me, just give Holly a holler!" she winked and skated off.
"Well she's quite the character," Clary inquired as soon as Holly was off.
Chris nodded his head, eyes soaring over the cavern, "This place is really successful, now I can see why."
"Maybe they just have really great food," Clary suggested.
"Nah," he blew it off, "It takes more than good food to keep someone coming for more."
"Not me. It's either the food is good, or it's cheap."
"You're such a New Yorker."
"Oh please," she said giving him a glance from over her menu, "You know nothing of New York."
Before he could argue with what Clary could bet were some very true facts about all of New York, Holly rounded by their table again.
Clary ordered some delicious looking items that were in the pictures, along with a lemonade. Chris ordered some things that were a lot more healthy-looking than what Clary ordered, but she didn't care.
"So how are you liking this place so far?" Chris asked.
Clary took another look around the establishment, "I like it. I'm no critic, but if my opinion were worth anything, I'd give this place 4.5 stars."
"4.5?"
"That vampire over there is soaking his bread into a bowl of blood." Clary said looking over his shoulder.
Chris chuckled, "You're blaming a restaurant on its customers?"
"It's a BOWL of blood," Clary repeated.
"He's a vampire," he said plainly.
"Well he should show some respect for some of us who still have blood pounding through their veins," she whispered.
"Do you show respect for vegetarians when you eat meat?" he asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, no…."
"Then this is the revenge of all those vegetarians who gave you the evil eye while you deliciously tasted what used to be the flesh of a living creature," he said with crossed arms.
Clary huffed, "Wait one second, you eat meat too!"
"I never said I didn't, did I?"
Holly came back with their food, and Clary, a little wary now of food and creatures, sifted through her food, half expecting an eyeball to appear in between her cheeseburger. It would take that and only that to actually convert her into a vegetarian.
Chris stood up from his seat, causing Clary to give him a questioning look, "Off to the little demons' room?"
"Something like that. I'm going to ask Holly where she acquired these tusks."
"Tusks?"
"Demon tusks, they're usually really rare, and only some are edible, so I'm curious where they got it from."
Clary looked off to the bar, where Holly was yelling at some warlock who switched someone's orders.
She nodded, Chris walking up to the bar and rang the little skull shaped bell on the bar. Holly appeared, and after some discussion, Chris was led behind the bar and into a door on the side of the kitchen.
Clary took the time to look at her surroundings. There was a stalactite hanging right over her table designed to look like chandelier, its witchlight pouring over her like a spotlight. In fact, all of the tables were designed that way, which, to her relief, made Clary feel less noticeable. There were about fifteen tables strewn about randomly around the underground cavern, well, not really, they seemed to be placed between stalagmites, but by now she wasn't sure whether the stalagmites and stalactites grew naturally, or were magically placed in certain areas. Either way, each table either sat two, four, or eight people. The alcoves in the walls didn't receive as much witchlight, so Clary couldn't see much of the people reclining inside of them, so they had more privacy.
The people is what fascinated her. There was such an even mix Shadowhunters and Downworlders here, they all sat down at one big table, or gathered around an alcove. There was a werewolf who was taking shots with a Shadowhunter, and a warlock who was keeping score. Further beyond, two vampires sat in an alcove, one with a warlock under his arm, and the other with a Shadohunter. She wasn't surprised that there weren't any faeries around.
She turned around looking at the other side of the place, and saw a young Shadowhunter, probably around her age, give a year or two, arm wrestling with a vampire. A group of all sorts were swarming around them like two colors mixing on a pallet, almost obscuring Clary's view, but she managed to see. The vampire didn't look like he was even trying, his face placid, his arm not even quivering with effort. The Shadowhunter, on the other hand, was red in the face, a shade that Clary associated with cartoon characters whenever they were angry, his arm shaking so badly with the force of holding the vampire back.
"Give him a strength rune, I want to see how many it takes for him to even succeed a little," the vampire said, as if it wouldn't even matter.
Someone in the crowd must have been a shadowhunter as well, because soon a rune glowed on his arm. But he still wasn't making any progress.
Clary, suddenly feeling the urge to do something, stood up and approached the table.
"Excuse me," she said as she squeezed to the Shadowhunter. Taking out her stele, she drew on of her strength runes onto his wrist, where one was already drawn.
Something was different about hers though, it was stronger, more enhanced and powerful, and as soon as Clary was done, it took into effect. The Shadowhunter stopped quivering, and his face took on a less intense shade, his muscles becoming less tense. The vampire looked surprised, his arm becoming rigid, and his expression hardening. There wasn't any motion at first, but very soon, the vampire's hand began to sink towards the table, the crowd around Clary exploding the second it hit the wood.
I guess my runes still work…
Bets were exchanged, yet none actually went to the Shadowhunter. Soon another two people had started wrestling again, making the commotion start all over again, and Clary sat back at her seat, setting her stele on the table.
She felt a tap on her shoulder, and she faced the young Shadowhunter who she'd helped.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi," she responded.
He had brown, curly hair, spiraling just over his ears, giving him a boyish cuteness. His skin light, pale, almost greenish under the witchlight, showing off his intense ice blue eyes. He wore Shadowhunting gear, which surprised Clary because none of the vampires seemed to mind that he had wooden spikes stuck through his belt loops.
"You're not from here are you?" he asked, which made Clary tense. She didn't know why, but she didn't want anyone to know who she was.
"Something tells me you're not from here either," she responded.
"And why is that?"
"Your accent, it's not Canadian." She pointed out.
"Well now that you've said that, I guess I can say that you don't have a Canadian accent either, unless your American accent is really good." He had a characteristic crooked smile.
"So what are you doing here if you're not from here? Visiting someone? Come to toss your past in the Fountain of Distress? Oh! I know, you're here because you heard of Holly's charming personality and wanted to see it for yourself," as if on cue, Holly shouted, "Hey Corey! These pots are covered in African beetle slime! Clean it up!"
Clary laugh, "I'm just traveling and decided to get something to eat." She glanced around the place, "I'm glad I did."
The guy said, "I do too." Something about his tone churned something in her stomach.
Sitting down on Chris's seat, he said, "By the way, what's your name, that is you, don't have to tell me, but I'd like to call you something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, it would just be rude of me to refer to you as 'short-gal' or 'flaming-snow' as I keep doing so in my head," the green witchlight almost hid his blush.
"Well you're not the first to refer to me as short, but 'flaming-snow'?"
"Your hair, even in this light I can tell half your hair is white, but the other half if curly red. I've never seen hair like that, did you get it done like that? I wouldn't think something like would look good, but it suits you."
Clary smiled slightly, "Actually, it's natural."
"No way," he said, incredulous, "Oh yeah, my name's Drake."
"Drake?"
"I know, not exactly a Shadowhunter name, but I'm the first and only." He lowered his gaze, looking through his curly bangs, "If you want, since you're traveling, I could show you around. I turn eighteen tonight, so I could show you around, maybe even help you so you're no lonely on your travels?"
Well, that escalated quickly. She was just about to devise a way to turn the guy down, when she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, a familiar heat creeping into her skin, and a smooth voice reaching her ears.
"I'm afraid she won't be able to go with you, because she's with me" Chris was holding her to him, one arm on her shoulders, the other holding her hand to his chest, like she was some sort of object of his to possess.
"Chris.." she looked up surprised, well not really.
"I'm sorry, I thought she was alone," Drake stood up, his eyes flicking from Clary to Chris, "You're her…."
The word 'brother' almost slipped from her tongue, in fact she was just about to say it, when Chris beat her to it.
"I'm her boyfriend."
What. Boyfriend? For a moment Jace popped into her mind.
What are you doing Chris….
Part of her thought that it was because Chris didn't want anyone to recognize them, of course she knew the Clave was probably after Sebastian, best not to draw any attention, so every Shadowhunter from around the world must be alerted about a demonic brother who stole his younger sister. Chris didn't want that to come to mind. The Clave also probably told everyone how they looked like, and was Clary's luck that her appearance was different from what she normally looked like, but too similar to Chris like she had been in Saudi Arabia which might as well have been a giant sign that said 'HEY THEY'RE RIGHT HERE.' Chris looked exactly as the Clave described him, but Chris is known as Jonathan, not Chris.
But the other part, the part that kept nagging at her, reminded her of the promise that Chris had her make before they came.
We're going to the town, just like you asked. But when we're there, you're not my sister. Alright?
Drake took a step back, "Sorry man, I didn't know she had a boyfriend," he glanced at her, and his look reminded her of a kid who's toy had been taken away, "I guess I'll leave you then, you never told me your name though."
"Oh, I didn't?" Clary feigned surprise, though she still didn't give it, and he noticed.
"Yeah, though I have to admit, you two look familiar to me, have we met before?"
Clary smiled, and kind of eerily, Chris did too, and he said, "No, I don't think we've had the pleasure, though we do have to get going."
He helped Clary up, still holding onto her hand, giving the impression that they were together.
They were about to leave, when Drake called out, "Hey wait!"
Clary braced herself.
But when she turned around, Drake was simply pointing to their table, "Your stele, you left it there."
Clary slowly turned back, and as she about to grasp the stele, she said "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Clarissa."
Clary's hand missed her stele, her palm running into the knife that had been given to them to help with their meal. She sucked in a breath, feeling the cold metal pierce her skin, and she quickly moved her hand back, trying to conceal it behind her back.
But it was too late, Drake had saw.
He saw her black blood.
Drake's voice was low, so only she could hear when he said, "By the Angel! I thought I recognized you and your brother, but I never heard that were a demon just like him!"
Before Clary could think, moving with demonic speed, she grabbed her stele, and lashing out with her other hand, gripped him by the collar, and drew a rune for forgetting onto his skin.
Releasing him, she ran back to Chris, who had dropped some money onto the long bar near the skeleton bell, and together they ran through the door, up the tunnel, and practically shoved both of their weight to open the door, knocking over boxes and crates.
Clary curled her hand into a fist as they ran, Chris holding onto the wrist of her other arm as they did, and they ran at an even pace, for them, back towards the house, where Clary could practically feel that they house was ready to leave, onto another place.
Now when she thought of Canada she'd think of northern lights and black blood.
There was no way that anyone could have kept up with them, no way that anyone could have. They hadn't exactly caused a scene at the restaurant, granted that everyone else was so much louder than they had been.
But as Clary and Chris approached the house, they could both feel like someone had been following them.
Jace POV
Two days. A lot can happen in two days. Two days mean hours of invigorating training, hours of reading, immense time periods of sitting by a window and just thinking.
But two days to him now felt like such a short amount of time, considering that's all the time they had left from what the Clave had given them. Really, Jace wasn't exactly worried; what could they do? They hadn't done anything wrong, Isabelle was innocent, and even their goal was different, they wanted the same thing the Clave did; to find Clary and Sebastian.
But when the Clave meant business, they meant business. No doubt they were using this as reason to pry into what they're doing, to see if they have any information they haven't told them about, to figure out any actual reasons to imprison all of them. No doubt that's what they wanted to do. This whole thing was starting to feel more like the Salem witch trials, where all of a sudden people were being blamed for witchcraft and the only way to save yourself was to either confess that you were a witch, how you were a witch, and anyone else who you know is a witch, or deny it and be killed, so it was either, die, or blame someone else. And that's what everyone did. That's how it was now, the Clave was so intense on finding Sebastian that they targeted random people to see if they know anyone who knows anything, and those people, having no other choice, would immediately give names.
Sometime his own race disgusted him.
As soon as they had gotten Izzy out of the Bone City, they had gotten straight to work, all day and half the night making calls to almost every single Institute that they could contact (except for one in Germany which Maryse insisted she just didn't want to talk about) and practically bribed half of those who actually answered to give them any information they get before informing the Clave. The other half either hung up on them as soon as they found out who it was, or yelled at them in their foreign language, and then hung up. Jace couldn't speak Korean, but he was pretty sure that the old lady on the other end insulted him in every possible way the language could allow.
That morning, he had gone out for a walk at the crack of dawn, wearing only a thin jacket. It was freezing cold, but he let the cold wind wake him up and clear his head. He has not been getting enough sleep lately, no one has, and he couldn't help but wonder how Clary was, what was she doing right now. Was she okay? Was Sebastian feeding her? Was she chained to a wall, forced to do whatever he wanted? Jace knew about how Sebastian didn't care that Clary and he were siblings, and Jace just couldn't bring himself to think that if Sebastian ever hurt in her in that way..
Without realizing it, Jace noticed that he had started walking towards Simon's apartment. The vampire hadn't spoken to them in a while, and Jace hadn't told him about Izzy being imprisoned. Better that way, she was fine anyway. Jace found himself looking to Simon these days, and at first he actually thought he was starting to like the vampire, which caused a major confusion in his head, until he came to the conclusion that it wasn't Simon he wanted to be near, it was that fact that Clary was Simon's best friend, the two of the were close, so being near Simon made Jace feel like he was closer to Clary.
What was he going to do? He sighed, and decided that he might as well go to Simon's. Maybe they could get into a fight so that Jace could release his nerves.
Just as he was about knock on the door, Jace felt a buzz in his pocket.
Taking it out, he didn't recognize the number, but he read the message on the screen.
Sebastian spotted in northern Canada.
Magnus POV (I can hear your collective gasps)
All that the High Warlock of Brooklyn wanted was a vacation.
So when he did, he didn't expect to see a certain dead evil overlord's son with some familiar looking girl.
He was tired with his work. It was always 'Magnus do this!' 'Magnus do that because you're a warlock and we can't do that and we're Shadowhunters so you should listen to us' and 'Magnus! Why did Chairman Meow bring me all this tuna?!' (long story).
Honestly. You'd think that after being in the service of the Clave for such a long time, he'd get to retire somewhere, preferably somewhere far, far away from all those people, buy a condo near a beach, cover it in glitter and throw parties day and night.
After the past few months, Magnus has had enough to do with Shadowhunters to last him another century or two. How come he was always the one to have to pick them and dust them off and promise them everything would be better? He should have known when Jocelyn Fairchild, ex Morgenstern, showed up at his front door step that he was getting into a lot of drama.
Though it was his fault, he did have the power to say no, but when all these kids, the Lightwoods, the Fairchilds, and even he hadn't known that Jace was a Herondale, it brought back so many memories, that he just couldn't help it if he wanted go back into his past, even if it were fake.
When he first saw the Lightwoods, he was surprised at the huge blast from the past he got when he looked at Alec. An almost exact replica of William Herondale, one of the only Shadowhunters who respected him and thanked him for all the help that Magnus provided. Will was a great man, albeit a smartass and a jerk, but when it came to serious matters, there was no other person you'd need. It even struck Magnus when Will passed, even though he'd through death time and time again.
Clarissa as well, though she didn't look like Charlotte, she had her fire and determination (and her height, though no one ever brought up Charlotte's size to her in her lifetime, Clary certainly has been teased about it).
Magnus couldn't help but wonder how the old gang, William, Charlotte, Henry, Jem, Tessa, Cecily, Gideon, Gabriel, and Sophie, would react if they was this.
Will would probably say that Gabriel should thank him because his bloodline looked a lot better looking now, considering that they had his features, and Gabriel would say that Will's descendants were exactly as thick headed as he was.
Enough, why am I so nostalgic today?
Indeed, he hasn't thought about his past in a longtime. He was on vacation, and he was going to enjoy it.
No Shadowhunters, no Clave, so problems.
He packed up all his shiny clothes, left Chairman Meow who didn't like to travel with a friend, and abandoned Brooklyn for a while.
So where to? You see, there is an advantage to being immortal, even if you see the whole world, it's gonna keep changing, therefore there was always something to see.
Though I am feeling particularly nostalgic…..
That nostalgia made him travel north, north until he could see the northern lights.
"Oh, wonderful! I haven't seen the aurora borealis in centuries!" he said aloud, confusing a couple of tourist. He winked at them, walking away in rainbow tights and a galaxy jacket.
He followed his old instincts, his age old memories reminding his feet where to go, and it wasn't until he came face to fountain with the Fountain of Distress that he knew where he was.
I wonder if my coin is still under there….
Even if it was, he didn't want it. He had parted ways with that life a long time ago.
He felt in the need of some cheering up, so he decided to go to the one place in town that was worth being at, and he wondered if old Holly still worked there. Holly may fool some people, but she was almost as old as he was.
Arriving at the gas station, he didn't even bother with the mundane that was sitting at the cashier, proceeding towards the back room.
"Sir! Sir! You can't go back there!" the acne ridden teen called to him.
"Sure I can't," Magnus twitched his fingers, causing lovely blue sparkles to settle over the mundane's eyes, putting him into a nice nap.
Descending down the tunnel, he came to the underground establishment. It was exactly the way he remembered, except for the people there and the utilities used in the kitchen, but Holly was still here. As soon as she saw him, she gave him a wink and gestured her hand around the whole restaurant. Whatever he wanted, he could have.
He shook his head, taking to a dark alcove in the walls instead. He leaned into it, relaxing against the surprisingly warm wall, thought it was made from stone. He was wearing all black, an unwonted (yes unwonted, not unwanted, there's a difference) characteristic coming from him. He was mourning his relationship with Alec, a topic he didn't even want to broach. He was starting to question his mental sanity, because if he wanted to get away from everything, including his ex boyfriend, why had had he come to a place that only brought even worse memories to mind?
It was during these thoughts that he spotted them coming through the door, he saw two people, the first he noticed was Jonathan Christopher, who wouldn't notice that white hair. Jonathan had his looks, but Magnus preferred his hair dark.
The second person threw him off. He almost swore it was Clary, but for some reason he hesitated. This girl looked more confident, not that Clary wasn't confident, but she never held the sort of confidence that Jonathan had in him. The girl 's hair confused him as well, it looked like only half of it was bleached, as if she didn't even bother to work with the other half.
But what really bugged him, was the eyes. Her eyes were dark, pitch black, just like Jonathan's.
Did he force her to drink from the Infernal Cup?
Magnus's cat like eyes followed their movements, and used magic to conceal himself in the alcove, and listen in to their conversations. Mostly useless banter, though they did seem to get along. He watched as Jonathan left, and the girl went to help some poor Shadowhunter who thought he stood a chance against a two hundred year old vampire.
He was slightly amused at the Shadowhunter's attempts to sway the girl, and even Magnus had to admit, he came on a little too strong. The more Magnus watched the girl, the more he was confused. She was so much like Clary, the voice, the way she held herself, as if her small form meant nothing, but something was just off, and not just the black eyes.
What really almost made Magnus want to come out of his hiding place and smack them both with blue sparks, was when Jonathan announced to the Shadowhunter that he was Clary's (not-Clary?) boyfriend.
What the hell? What was this? Some sort of incest fanfiction?
If there is a God who controls the events of this world, they are corrupt in the head..
When Clary(not-Clary?) thought she erased the Shadowhunter's mind, and that no one had seen her black blood, she was wrong. Because Magnus saw.
And he followed.
In fact, Magnus arrived to their house first, and taking a split second decision, he placed a tracking spell on the house, which took a lot of energy, considering that there were a lot of spells preventing that. But it was nothing he couldn't handle.
As soon as the spell was done, he was gone. He didn't watch as Clary noticed that someone had been following them, he simply left.
The High Warlock had a choice, to either report this to the Clave and help solve a problem and be patted on the back for being a good pet Warlock, or he could take matters into his hands, and help make the events play out neatly. In other words, he would be doing all the work for them and helping out. Or he could continue his vacation and act as if he hadn't seen anything. For all anyone knew, he was in the Bahamas, or on the moon.
Magnus sighed histrionically, reaching for his phone. Choosing a number, he made a quick text, and did not respond to the message that came a minute afterwards.
Hmmm…. I wonder how China is doing this time of the year…..
Lacie: OH MY GOSH I'M DONE
Magnus: You go girl ;)
Clary: Magnus?!
Chris: What's this warlock doing here?
Magnus: You two have been the center of attention, Magnus hasn't been getting any love lately T-T Therfore, begone with you two.
*Clary and Chris are sent away*
Lacie: You can do that too?
Magnus: Honey, I got skills you've never heard of
Lacie: YES YOU DO. Anyway I put magnus in this because a while ago someone asked if I would, and then while typing this chapter it occurred to me that magnus hasn't been in the scene for some time. And I feel sorry for Magnus bc the Clave doesn't treat him right :(
Magnus: That's right, I need som T
Lacie: Guys, I am so SORRY. But you know what, it's not that I put this off, I do manage to type a little everyday, its just that I don't type enough. You guys may not realize this, but on Word documents, every chapter is over ten pages, this one is about thirty. So I am going to stop apologizing about late updates, because I do try, I don't have time, but remember what I said! If it takes me more than a week to update DON'T PANIC. Panic when its been like a month.
Magnus: No, no, if you disappear I shall use all my powers to find you
Lacie: FINDING LACIE
Maguns: did you know they are making Finding Dory
Lacie: WHAT I DID NOT KNOW THIS WHAT WHEN HOW WHERE
Magnus: Its coming out in July of 2016, I think
Lacie: 2016! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT IS, I'LL BE, LIKE, ALMOST TWO YEARS OLDER THAN I AM NOW
Magnus: But I'll still be perfect *muah* Hello Magnus's lovers, please review and maybe I'll make appearances in chapter to come, we hope to see you in the next chpter
Lacie: bye you guys! FIND DORY FIND NEMO JUST KEEP WAITING JUST KEEP WAITING