Danger at the Hotel Du Mort
"Something seriously wrong is going on with the vampires," stated Izzy. "Raphael has his whole clan, including Simon, locked in the Hotel Du Mort, but I am not sure how long that would be effective."
Izzy smoothed her long black hair with a shacking hand, and then, with the same hand, she adjusted the white jacket she was wearing. Clary recognized the gesture as Izzy's attempt to calm her nerves.
Izzy, Jace and Clary were gathered around a table in the Institute's situation room surrounded by monitors and surveillance equipment, and by the hustle and bustle of other Shadowhunters going about their business, some of them still working on repairing the damage caused over a week ago by the explosion. A still frame from the security footage from the attacks in Berlin a few days ago glowed in one of the monitors, the image of Magnus and an unknown warlock looking at the camera just before stepping through a portal that took them who knows where.
Jace, Izzy and Clary, along with all the Shadowhunters in the Institute, were wearing the traditional white used at funerals and during times of bereavement. Jace's golden hair shone brighter than usual against the snow white of his fitted jacket, and his eyes reflected the gold stitching of the grief runes embroidered around the cuffs and kimono collar of his white shirt. Clary's red curls fell like a cascade of cooper that almost reached the waist of the loose butter white tunic she had chosen for the occasion. The white tight suit with a tuxedo shirt that Izzy was wearing provided a stark contrast to her jet-black hair and, surprisingly, smoothed the expression of concern that, in the last few days, had become permanently edged on her face.
Clary looked around the room at the other Shadowhunters also in mourning dress, her eyes resting for a moment on the faces of Pineshade and Scarcherry with whom she had spent the last few days and nights pouring over the archives in search of any record of the red-eyed warlock. She smiled and thought that if it wasn't for the state-of-the-art technology that surrounded them, the scene would resemble a painting depicting angels in heaven she once saw at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Despite being in a heightened state of emergency, Shadowhunters all over the world were in mourning. The Clave had ordered that all funeral services be carried out at the same time to allow the Nephilim to stand together in support of one another in a collective show of force, resilience, strength and determination that transcended borders and distance. So far, thirty Shadowhunters had died in the attacks and, considering how tight and interconnected Nephilim society was, almost all Shadowhunters had lost someone they either knew or were related to by blood or family ties. Thus, even if the attacks had taken place mostly in Europe, with only New York breaking the pattern so far, the loss impacted Nephilim stationed all over the world.
Clary looked at the people who in the last year had become her family. Their faces so familiar that she could plainly see the toll that the crisis was having in each one of them. Izzy was not only worried about Alec, but her meeting with Raphael had left her visibly shaken. To Clary, who thought of Izzy as the bravest woman she knew, this was reason enough for alarm. Jace's eyes reflected the countless sleepless nights spent pacing along corridors, his bedroom, or Alec's office –which he refused to call his own. The few times that Clary could get him to lie down and he had managed to fall asleep, Jace had tossed and turned, and had called Alec in his sleep. By time he woke up, he was as tired as he had been before. The exhaustion was taking an additional toll on Jace's temper and he was struggling to keep his usually cool and self-assured demeanor. Truth be told, without Alec, Jace had a hard time maintaining his confident bearing; it was as if he was missing something fundamental to his wellbeing.
"I am telling you, Jace, whatever is going on with the warlocks is also affecting the Vampires," said Izzy. "I have never seen Raphael like this."
Izzy had tried to see Raphael several times since the morning after the attacks at the New York Institute, but every time she had gone to the Hotel Du Mort, she had found the doors locked, a sign on the door written in a script invisible to mundanes warning Downworlders to stay away. She had finally lost patience and last night she had approached the hotel through a secret entrance that was known only to her. After her struggle with her yin fen addiction a few months ago, she had promised Raphael never to use that entrance again. He was concerned about Izzy's reputation, and wanted to preserve the impression that there was nothing untoward about their meetings, even though the attraction they felt for each other was getting harder and harder to ignore. Last night, however, Izzy had thought that the emergency warranted the breaking of that promise.
She had taken a tunnel that led her directly to the entrance to Raphael's chambers, following a route that she had memorized months before. The hotel was eerily quiet and dark, despite Izzy's certainty that its rooms were unusually crowded. Only once during her journey through the vowels of the old building had the silence been broken by the sounds of someone screaming somewhere on the top levels of the building. But the screams were quickly silenced as if the oppressive darkness that covered everything in a blanket of night had drowned them. Not wanting to call unnecessary attention to herself, Izzy had decided against using witch light to illuminate her way, choosing instead to activate the rune in her arm that sharpen her night vision.
When she had finally reached Raphael's rooms, which the vampire always kept illuminated by hundreds of candles, she had been surprised to find it also in darkness. The room was all too familiar to Izzy; for it had been the place where she and Raphael had spent countless nights trying to satiate their addictions, hers for vampire venom; his for Nephilim blood. Despite never being about sex, their encounters in that room had been oddly intimate, and had brought Izzy closer to Raphael than to any of the other men with whom she had had relationships. However, Izzy had not been back in this room since she decided to kick her addiction, and her meetings with Raphael had since always been public, even if they retained some of their seductive and forbidden quality. One day, Izzy had thought as she took one step into the room, she and Raphael would have to deal with their unfinished business.
"Raphael," she had whispered, her hand still on to the door knob, sure that the vampire's sharp ears would hear her no matter how far he was. "Raphael," she had repeated when she received no reply.
"Isabel," had whispered a familiarly seductive voice from somewhere in the darkness, the name, as usual, sounding exotic and somewhat foreign when Raphael pronounced it in his Spanish-accented English. "Why are you here?"
"Raphael, I need to speak to you," Izzy had said in an equally soft voice as she let go of the door knob and entered the room, the door closing shut behind her.
Izzy would remember for a long time the rush of surprise and fear she felt then; for at one moment she was cautiously stepping into the room, and the next she had a pair of strong cold arms wrapped around her waist, and she felt herself being pulled backward against the hard and muscular body of Raphael Santiago.
"You shouldn't have come," Raphael had whispered, the brush of his lips on Izzy's ear causing goosebumps to rise on every inch of her body, and the delicious scent of his skin, a mixture of spices and old wood, awakening all her senses.
Raphael had begun to run one hand up Izzy's torso, his fingers tracing lines on the planes of her stomach; stopping for a moment against her chest; and then going on until he reached her long neck, where his hand finally settled gently around her throat, his fingers searching and then resting atop the artery in the side of her neck where her heartbeat could be easily detected. With his other hand, Raphael kept a firm hold on Izzy's waist, pressing her even more firmly against his body, and Izzy was sure she detected a hardness against the small of her back that she had never, in all the times she had been near Raphael, felt before. The gestures were unusually sensual and evocative, almost sinful, considering that in the time they had known each other, Raphael had made it plainly clear that sex was not what he was after in his relationship with Izzy.
Involuntarily, she had leaned back against Raphael's inviting body, and Raphael rewarded her with a loud intake of air that seemed to reverberate in the dark walls of the room.
"Izzy, you shouldn't have come," Raphael had whispered again, his lips beginning a madding journey up and down Izzy's neck. "It is not safe for you here right now."
The feel of Raphael's fingers around her throat, the movement of his lips on her skin, and the sensation of his hard body against hers had clouded Izzy's mind and awakened every nerve ending in her body. She knew she should free herself, step away from Raphael; she knew that this closeness was dangerous, but she just couldn't. Instead, she turned her head and reaching with her arm behind Raphael's head pulled him closer to her, her lips searching for his in the darkness. She kissed him fervently, momentarily unleashing the passion she felt for this man who constantly haunted her thoughts and visited her dreams. Raphael responded to the kiss with passion of his own, enticing Izzy's lips to part, to allow his playful tongue to explore her mouth. Izzy entangled her fingers in the vampire's hair, and willed her body to melt into Raphael's, rejoicing in a closeness she had desired for so long.
"Raphael," Izzy had whispered, her lips momentarily separating from the vampire's, the name sounding like sweet melting chocolate in her tongue.
"Isabel," he had replied, "I swear you will be my downfall."
For a moment, they had lost themselves in the taste of each other's lips and the feel of each other's mouth, Raphael's hardness pulsating against Izzy's back, his fingers tracing the length of her slender neck, the touch a promise of things to come, of explorations not yet realized but desired with an intensity that surprised them both. Izzy would not be able to recall later when she turned and wrapped her own arms around Raphael's neck, or how she ended up pinned against a wall, Raphael pressing his body firmly against hers, one of his hands stroking her behind and the other resting against the pulsating vein in the side of her neck. Eventually, Raphael's lips broke contact with her lips and he began to kiss her neck again, Izzy's hands entangled in his hair guiding him.
For a moment, Izzy thought she felt sharp teeth against her neck. Almost immediately, Raphael pulled away from her with such strength and blinding speed that she was sure she heard the thud with which the vampire's back hit the wall at the opposite side of the room. The departure left her feeling cold, as if a blanket that had kept her warm and cozy had suddenly and without warning been pulled off her. For a minute afterwards, only their fast breathing could be heard in the dark room as each of them tried to bring their desire for the other under control.
"Raphael," Izzy had said once she felt her voice would not betray her state of agitation. "What is going on?"
"You shouldn't have come here," he repeated for the third time, his voice shaky and throaty. "It is not safe to be around the Children of the Night right now."
"What is going on?" she asked again, her voice betraying increasing frustration.
"We don't know. It started the night of the attacks. We think it is a side effect of the demonic energy release by the explosion. It is acting like a virus spreading among the vampires and affecting our self-control. We are becoming increasingly aggressive and hungry, especially for human blood."
Izzy could hear in Raphael's strained voice the efforts he was making to disobey whatever his instincts were urging him to do, and she was suddenly afraid. She had never seen him this shaken, not even during the worse of his addiction. The vampire had always been a calm and collected person, a voice of reason among a race of beings who had a reputation for excess and impulsiveness. Raphael had managed to carry with him into his vampire life his faith, his belief in god, and a steadfast moral compass that he used to guide, not only his own life, but also the life and the conduct of his clan. Now, something was putting that moral compass and faith to the test, and Izzy feared that Raphael would never forgive himself if he gave in to whatever forces were challenging his self-control.
"Is there anything we can do?" she asked.
"Stay away from us," Raphael responded, a sharp and definite tone in his voice. "I have ordered all the vampires to stay in the hotel and we have horded as much blood as we could get our hands on. Hopefully, we will be able weather the storm here, but it is getting harder. It is as if the virus is awakening all our instincts to hunt, as if we are being ordered by a force outside of ourselves to go out there and kill any humans we find. You must stay away; it is not safe to be around us right now."
The agony in Raphael's voice had tugged at something in the center of Izzy's heart and she understood then that it had been a mistake to go to the hotel, that her presence was adding to the suffering that this man, a leader among his own people, was enduring.
"Okay," Izzy had said, and smoothing her rumpled shirt, had taken a cautious step away from the wall. "Before I go though, I need you to tell me anything you know about who might be responsible for the attacks and about Magnus' role in them."
"I don't know anything. Magnus never mentioned anything to me," he said. Izzy could detect a tone of hesitation in the vampire's voice that suggested that he was holding something back.
"Come on Raphael; you know Magnus is my friend and I want to help him. You must tell me anything you know." Izzy tried to convey in her words all her conviction that Magnus was innocent.
"He is my friend too," Raphael stated after a moment of hesitation in which he took a deep and ragged breath. "I don't know anything for sure. The only thing I can tell you is that a few hours before the explosion, someone used a portal to transport something that belongs to Magnus into this room. It was a small box, old for what I can tell, containing a small piece of jewelry, a ring made of a strange metal. I know it belongs to Magnus because, years ago, I saw the box in his apartment when I lived there during my first months after I ascended, and because it is obviously magical."
"Can I see it?"
"I can show it to you but I cannot let you take it," replied Raphael. "The ring is emitting some form of energy that is counteracting somewhat the effects of whatever is affecting us. Without it, I am not sure I can control the vampires."
"I promise I will only look at it," Izzy told him.
"Okay, but I need to ask for something in return," Raphael had said. "You must promise me to station Shadowhunters in all the entrances to the hotel, and arm them with fire throwers. I am not sure if and for how long we can resist this disease and you must promise me not to let anyone leave the hotel, no matter what. You must promise me that you will burn this place down with all of us inside if necessary. Do I have your word?"
"But Raphael," Izzy had tried to protest but Raphael had stopped her.
"You must promise me, Isabel. I will not let my clan be responsible for more innocent deaths."
"I promise," Izzy had responded after a moment of silence in which the pleading tone in Raphael's voice had echoed in the room.
Raphael had taken a few steps towards the sitting room and switched on a lamp on one of the side tables, its soft light barely breaking the darkness, but still illuminating the lovely face of the vampire that constantly occupied Izzy's thoughts. The expression in Raphael's face had been pained but determined, and Izzy had understood that he would rather die along with his whole clan before he betrayed the faith and morality that had guided his life since before he became a vampire.
He had reached for the small square box resting on the table and handed it to Izzy before stepping back, once again putting distance between himself and the Shadowhunter. The box was made of polished pinewood, the inlaid design of a rose made of what appear to be rosewood decorated its lid. Before opening the box, Izzy took out her phone and snapped a few pictures. She then lifted the lid to reveal its blue velvet covered interior and the small ring, its design simple and plain, nestled in the centre of the box. The ring was not more than a simple band rustically made of a dark silvery metal that shone rather dully under the light. It looked old and Izzy suspected it was made of a material that was not easily found in this realm.
Izzy took a few more pictures, the energy emanating from the ring casting an odd and eerily glow on the images the phone captured. Even though the small object was obviously magical, its powers would be hard to decipher without more careful examination. But, she had given her word that she would not take it and, for some reason, Izzy knew that this promise she had to keep. She had the conviction that on this promise depended the likelihood that she would not have to keep her promise to burn the hotel with Raphael in it.
She had worked quickly, taking pictures and making notes about the ring and the box. All the while, she had felt Raphael's eyes looking at her from a dark corner, their intensity almost burning her skin. However, she didn't look at Raphael again, or seek him out before she left the room. She just walked away with steady and rushed steps, wanting to leave that place as soon as possible, and before her presence became known to the rest of the vampires currently cloistered in the hotel rooms. She didn't know what was happening to the vampires, but suspected that whatever it was, was dangerous enough to warrant the promises that Raphael had extracted from her.
She recounted the incident to Jace and Clary now, omitting, of course, the parts about Raphael kissing her. Her brother's face mirrored her own alarm, and Clary's smile and her hand resting on Izzy's, reflected not only her affection, but also her sympathy. Clary understood better than anyone Izzy's concern and feelings for Raphael.
"I am telling you Jace, the vampires are in trouble," Izzy said again, her voice barely concealing her anxiety. "We must find out whether whatever is happening here is also affecting vampires in Paris, Barcelona and Berlin. If so, the situation is worse than we originally thought. We cannot protect mundanes while we are also under attack. And now the Clave's increasing concern about Institute security is going to make it harder for us to carry our duty."
"I have tried to get a report from the Clave, but information is being handed out piecemeal. And, I still can't get an update on Alec's condition from Inquisitor Dearborn," said Jace, frustration evident in his tired voice.
Since the call several days before in which Dearborn informed them that Alec was injured, Jace had tried numerous times to get an update, but to no avail. He had already placed several calls to the Barcelona Institute that morning, determined not to give up until he spoke to his parabatai and saw with his own eyes that he was alive and well. He had already decided that if he didn't hear from Alec today, he would portal to Barcelona and would refuse to leave until he saw Alec and was hopefully able to bring him home. The tendency of the Clave to resort to secrecy and to withhold information frustrated Jace more than he thought prudent to show in front of so many Shadowhunters who, in Alec's absence, looked to him for guidance and a role model.
"The Clave is scared because Shadowhunters have depended so much on warlock magic to protect the institutes and Idris over the years," Jace added. "Now they feel exposed and threaten."
"And, we all know how the Clave deals with threats," said Izzy, her voice harsh, "bigotry, expulsion and unnecessary violence."
In addition to orders to immediately cease any contact with warlocks, news of warlocks being expelled from Idris had already reached then, and Izzy couldn't help thinking that the measures only added to the vulnerability of the Nephilim. They needed the help of the warlocks to deal with this crisis; Izzy was sure of it. She was also concerned that the Clave would not stop at banishing the warlocks from Idris, that eventually all progress made in their relations with the Downworld since the death of Valentine would go to waste if the Clave extended the expulsion orders to other downworlders.
"With all that is going on, I don't think we have the manpower to station enough guards at the Hotel Du Mort," said Jace, calling Izzy's attention back to the problem affecting the vampires. He then run a hand over his face as if to erase the exhaustion evident there. "I am going to call Luke and ask for his help. His pack can help us guard the vampires."
"Is that wise?" asked Clary. "Didn't you say that you thought something was also going on with Luke when he came to help after the explosion?"
"Yes, but it might just have been my imagination. He has seemed fine when I have spoken to him since then. Besides, we can't afford not to ask for help. I am going to also ask him to use his contacts to get more blood for the vampires. We don't want them to run out and then be forced to fulfill the promise you made to Raphael, Izzy."
"Are we going to obey Clave orders and not to consult with our warlock allies?" asked Clary, her eyes barely concealing her own concern and exhaustion.
"No, we can use any help we can get in trying to figure this mess out," replied Jace. "Besides Caterina Loss is one of Magnus' closest friends. If anyone can help us figure out what the hell is going on with him is her."
After his first awkward meeting with Catarina when he went to her apartment two days after the attacks, Jace hadn't heard anything from her until this morning.
"Magnus is not responsible for the attacks;" Catarina had said as soon as she opened the door to Jace that morning, her voice carrying all the conviction that her eyes already communicated. "He may have a sharp tongue and may not always play by the rules, but he is not capable of such destruction."
"But how do you explain then his involvement in the attacks?" Jace had asked.
"We do not actually know if he was involved at all; all we have is an image projected on the sky," Catarina had replied placing additional emphasis on the statement.
Catarina had led Jace into a small sitting room, part of a no much larger and modestly furnished apartment located on the top floor of an old townhouse that years before had been divided into small rental units. She had then sat on an old yellow arm chair by a window overlooking a small back garden in which children could be heard playing. The morning sun shone through the lace curtains illuminating Catarina's iridescent blue skin, and contrasting sharply with the purple hospital scrubs decorated with yellow clowns and red balloons she was wearing. Jace had thought the effect was almost blinding and made his already exhausted eyes sting and his head hurt.
Caterina had not bothered to put on a glamor before opening the door to Jace, and she too looked exhausted. It was understandable, Jace had thought. He knew that she worked as a nurse in the hospital and had also just spent two nights helping treat injured Shadowhunters and reinstating the wards at the Institute.
"You need to tell me anything you know; otherwise, I cannot help Magnus" Jace had pleaded, badly containing the frustration in his voice.
He wasn't a diplomat, he had thought not for the first time, especially not now that Alec's absence was all he could think about. He was a soldier and an enforcer of the law. Diplomacy and downworlder relations were Alec's forte; Alec was the one who vampires, werewolves and warlocks trusted. But his brother was not here and it was now up to Jace to get downworlders to cooperate; hopefully without ruining diplomatic relations forever. He should have asked Clary or Izzy to come with him; they were better at soft talk. He was also too tired, too wound up, too worried too spend the energy needed to keep his temper under control.
"I am not sure how I can help, considering that I don't actually know anything," Catarina had said, her tone sharp.
Jace didn't know whether it was the exhaustion, the effects of being cut off from his parabatai, or the blinding clash of colors in the room, but he had felt suddenly dizzy and had to hold on to the back of a chair to avoid dropping to the ground. His face must have betrayed his state of mind, because Catarina had looked at him with deep concern in her aquamarine eyes.
"Are you okay?" she had asked, getting up and coming to stand beside Jace, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I am fine, just tired," he had replied, closing his eyes and bending his head towards his chest trying to get the room to stop spinning.
"You are more than tired," Catarina had rebutted as she guided him to a sofa. "You are white as paper." With a flick of her fingers, she had willed the heavier drapes to slide over the window and block the light, sending the room into semi-darkness; the effect dulling the brightness of the furniture and of Catarina's skin.
Jace didn't know why, but the comforting sensation on Catarina's hand on his shoulder and her eyes full of concern had unleashed something inside him, and he had told Catarina everything. He had told her about the pain that had awakened him right before the attacks; about the hours spent in the gruesome work of collecting and identifying the bodies of his dead comrades; about being suddenly cut off from his parabatai and not knowing whether he was dead or alive; about his fear that he wouldn't be able to be as good a leader as Alec; about the sinking sensation of being lost.
"I need him, and I think he needs me," Jace had finally said, his voice strained and full of anguish. "I cannot do my job without Alec; I am just half a person without him, weak and scared."
"A parabatai bond is one of the strongest forms of magic we know," the warlock had said. "Losing it can be devastating and as painful as having a limb amputated. Believe me, you are doing a lot better than most other Shadowhunters in your situation."
"I have to find out what happened," Jace had told Caterina, his voice carrying all the urgency he felt.
"You are impulsive, Jonathan Herondale, and that worries me because I don't want my friend or any other innocent warlocks to die unnecessarily if you do not approach this situation with a levelled head."
"Magnus is my friend too," Jace had rebutted, "and I want to find out what happened and hopefully help him if I can. Listen, he is the person responsible for Alec being happy after years of secrecy and suffering. In my book, that is enough to earn him a chance to explain himself."
"Tessa Grey, you ancestor, is a good friend of mine, you know, and I met her husband, Will Herondale, once many years ago. You remind me of them. Will and Magnus were good friends and I know he wouldn't want you to rush to judgement" Catarina had said, her voice soft and comforting.
"I promise to keep an open mind," Jace had stated, imbuing as much conviction as he could into the statement.
"I am not sure what I can do, but I will think about it," had been Catarina's final and non-committal answer.
But this morning, she had finally contacted Jace, and informed him that she would help in the investigation. She had also told him that another warlock, a woman by the name of Kat, was arriving in New York, oddly not by portal, but by plane from South America, and had also agreed to help.
"Catarina is coming tonight after the funerals," Jace told Clary and Izzy, lowering his voice so the other Shadowhunters didn't hear. "If I don't hear from Alec by then, I will ask her to portal me to Barcelona. I am going to bring him back, not matter what."
The two women nodded at unison, the gesture one of agreement and understanding.
As if on cue, Pineshade interrupted their quiet conversation. "Jace, you have a call from the Barcelona Institute."
Jace's heart skipped a beat and the hair in the back of his neck stood on end. Finally, someone had decided to acknowledge his phone messages. He pushed a button on the table and turned towards a big flat screen on the wall.
Suddenly, the familiar face of his brother, the man Jace felt the closest to in the whole world, appeared on the screen, his expression stern, his eyes impassive, and his mouth set on a hard line. Alec was, like all Shadowhunters, wearing white, his outfit providing a stark contrast to his black hair, and accentuating even more his angelic and youthful features. Instinctually, Jace brought his hand to the spot above his hip where his parabatai rune was located, searching in vain for the sensation of connection and wholeness he usually felt in Alec's presence.
"Report," was the only word that came out of Alec's lips, the word sounding as flat and distant as the expression in Alec's face.