Thank you for the follows, likes, and reviews! It really means a lot!
Chapter 3 is here. Clary is finally going to get to New York in this installment. I've included some squad backstories. You'll get a little taste of Jace and his magical abs, Izzy, and a touch of Simon. Of course, we will finally meet Jonathan and my my…he's a bit true to form, huh?
Enjoy and THANK YOU for reading I do not own any of the characters, only the illustrious Cassandra Clare owns them. I do, however, own this particular story, so please don't be lame and copy/paste it elsewhere.
Previously: "I need to know whose she is." Valentine hissed through his teeth. She'll belong to me or mine regardless." He smirked to himself. My revenge is coming, Garroway.
Clary looked out over the green pastures that lead to an intricate English garden. Golden sunlight streamed over the colorful budding flowers. She took stone stairs down from a terrace, her bare feet sunk into plush grass. She was having the dream again.
Clary grasped the white wicker basket, full of tins of paint, and ran as fast as she could towards the garden. She had to get to her.
In the distance she saw her mother in the center of the garden, her white sundress flapped in the fragrant breeze, her red hair blazed around her head, her back to Clary. Jocelyn faced a great canvas on a wooden easel. Clary ran faster and came up behind her mother to finally gaze upon her work. She had never reached her mother before, in her previous dreams.
Jocelyn's paintbrush feathered across the canvas in garish shades of black, bone, and red. She completed her painting and stepped back to reveal a smoking, ruined manor, with black crows picking at the bloodied remains of the murdered inhabitants. The bodies seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't piece together who they were. Clary, horrified and angry by the scene, grabbed a tin from her basket. She tore the container open and flung its contents onto her mother's painting. It washed the image away and covered it in light gray paint. Clary wanted to wake up.
She turned to her mother and reached out to hug her. Jocelyn Fray stood just out of her reach and looked pleadingly into her daughter's eyes. "I'm so sorry, my Clary. Please..."
"Mom–" She took a step towards her mother and wrapped her arms around her. Clary gasped in horror and jumped back as her mother's body went rigid, her skin hardening beneath her hands. Jocelyn's bright green eyes turned ashen, her hair and skin turned to a dark porous charcoal. Clary Fray's beautiful, vivacious, fierce mother crumbled and flaked into ash before dissolving into nothing before her eyes.
"...forgive me, my Clary."
Clary woke up.
"Oh my go– oh my. Shit!" Clary gasped, bolting forward in her seat, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. Where the hell am I? Clary was panting, her eyes full of tears. OK, breathe. I'm on the plane. I need to get a grip. What the fuck is wrong with me? Mom. I need to hug my mom. Clary took a few deep, shaky breaths, and came back to reality. That was insane! The dream, which had been recurring over the summer, had never ended like that before. She needed to calm down. I need to watch some fucking My Little Pony and detox my brain, is what I need to do, Clary thought to herself.
Clary looked wildly around the cabin, surprised that no one noticed her outburst. An elderly couple slept in the back corner, leaning against each other. A well dressed, brunette man about Clary's age sat across the aisle from her. He wore earbuds and aviator sunglasses, reading a sports magazine. She exhaled. She was ok. It was just a horrid, painful dream. Mind fuck. She leaned back into her chair, hugging a plush black blanket against her chest. Someone must have covered her while she slept. Great service…even when you don't ask for it. Clary's heart rate slowed down and she started feeling better. She wiped the tears from her cheeks on the corner of the blanket.
When she boarded her flight she was surprised to find out that her seat had been upgraded to the first class cabin, "Courtesy of Mr. Valentine Morgenstern!" the flight attendant had gushed, and informed her that he also owned the airline. Shocking. Clary had rolled her eyes and tried to politely decline, but was informed that her reserved coach seat was already reassigned. So she just shrugged and enjoyed the comforts of the sparsely occupied cabin, turned off her phone as instructed, and fell asleep after takeoff.
"What a freaking weird day." she mumbled to herself. She pressed the service button, smoothing her hair down, trying to look calm, still coming down from her nightmare. She had been informed when taking her seat, hours ago, that she had full access to all food, beverage, and comfort services, once again, courtesy of the Valentine Morgenstern. While Clary was no stranger to such luxuries, because of her mother's wealth, she usually chose to fly coach. A pretty flight attendant with a short blonde pixie-cut appeared. Smiling widely at Clary, she handed her a menu. "Mr. Morgenstern requested that we also provide you with his personal reserve wine list, Miss Fray." I guess he really wants me to go to lunch with him and his son.
Clary perused the menu and wines. Almost every wine listed was from, of course, Morgenstern Vineyards, located in Alicante, a city in Idris. Idris, huh? That explains his unique accent. Idris was a very small country, just outside of Switzerland, near Germany. This guy was really laying it on thick. I wonder if his son is as elitist as his father seems to be. "What doesn't he own?" Clary muttered. Me. Ordering a cabernet and small charcuterie platter, Clary decided to draw in her sketchbook. She hoped a pleasant alcohol buzz and scratching her creative itch would help her relax and forget the nightmare. Her mind lingered back to the call from Jace. Why had he called her? She resolved to listen to all of her voicemails when she could access her phone in New York, thinking of the three missed calls from her overprotective mom.
Sipping her wine and nibbling a piece of cheese, she opened to a page at the very back of her sketchbook. With a newly sharpened charcoal, she added more definition to Jace Herondale's magical abs. She had started the drawing on her flight to Italy, back in May. Jace was a young NYPD detective who happened to work for her dad. Ugh.Luke Garroway was not okay with any of his men dating his daughter. He made it very clear to any and all officers that were invited to the monthly Fray-Garroway dinner that Clary was off-limits. So, she knew Jace had most likely been informed before they even met. She loved her dad so much, but he sure could be a pain in her ass. She moved her hand up the page to shade his smile. He had a chipped tooth she noticed once when he had laughed. It seemed to be his only physical flaw, which made him even hotter somehow.
Jace was tall, fit and muscular with golden blonde hair, gold eyes, and the proverbial panty-dropping smile. Clary was pretty sure her underwear fell straight-off onto the floor the first time she met him. She was also pretty sure Jace noticed the imaginary panties running away from her too. He was cocky and looked at her like he had already seen her naked. He hadn't. And I need to keep it that way. Clary knew more about Jace Herondale than he knew about her, thanks to her other bestie, Isabelle Lightwood. Izzy.
Jace was best friends and partners with Alec Lightwood, Izzy's older brother. Small world. Izzy had informed her that Alec and Jace had been friends since high school and went through the police academy together. Both were promoted to detective this past year. Clary's dad, Luke, was close friends with retired detective Robert Lightwood, Izzy and Alec's dad. He mentored both young men prior to their promotion, as a favor to Robert, which led to Jace and Alec becoming exceptional officers. Izzy was very proud of them both. She affectionately described Jace to Clary, as 'family; like a big brother'. But then she had also described him as a 'complete player, never-girlfriend-having, bang-and-bounce, utter manwhore, F-boy' and strictly forbade Clary to date him. She also made sure Jace knew that he was never to venture anywhere near Clary's panties. Apparently Jace had slept with many of Izzy's friends over the years, which caused much drama. Ouch. Izzy can be really intense. She missed her roomie.
Clary met Izzy freshman year at NYU, and became close friends very quickly. She was very tall and simply stunning. Supermodel gorgeous. Simon had once described her as 'Beautiful like Gal Gadot, but with much longer, lustrous black hair.' Izzy really liked that and it wasn't long before her best friend was dating her other best friend. Clary smiled. She loved them together. They just fit. I can't wait to see them both…I hope they didn't really bang on my desk.
For the past two years, Clary and Izzy lived together in a large brownstone apartment rent free, courtesy of Clary's mom. Jocelyn and Luke owned the building, which made it easier for them to keep tabs on her. Her mother insisted that only Jocelyn's and Luke's names be on the lease, so Clary didn't have an actual public address. Her mother told her it was to protect her privacy, so the press wouldn't bother Clary, trying to get to Jocelyn. Clary didn't really buy that explanation and always felt Jocelyn was hiding something from her. She and Izzy both had a P.O. Box in their names on campus to receive mail. This irritated Clary, but she couldn't justify saying no to a rent-free, secure, huge apartment, with hot tub, within walking distance to campus. Izzy would have killed her. Clary was thankful that her parents didn't live in the building, at least. They had a house many blocks away, which suited Clary just fine.
Clary's mind went back to her drawing, it was finally finished and she wasn't as shaken by her nightmare. Thanks, Jace's abs. She blushed and smiled to herself, thinking about how hot he had looked slipping into the hot tub after her going away party. They had been bantering during the party, as they always did. Izzy had made sure Clary's vodka martinis would magically refill all that night so she was feeling pretty good. Alone in the hot tub, she and Jace talked about his promotion and her upcoming trip, then suddenly they weren't talking. Just kissing. His hands wandering over her body, above and below the water…those kisses traveling up and down her neck. Thankfully, Izzy and Si had interrupted, loudly jumping into the hot tub, splashing them. Jace had moved across the tub from Clary and smiled knowingly as she blushed. Clary made sure she wasn't alone with him again that night. She didn't trust herself. They hadn't spoken since that night, but apparently he had gotten a hold of her phone and changed his name and pic. Sexprotz, Indeed. Stop it, hornball! He's a player. You don't want him. Liar. Clary took a deep breath and downed the rest of her wine, blushing even more. She put her sketchbook and pencils away and pulled the blanket up around her again to try to sleep again. Man, I need to get laid.
Clary awoke a second time to the announcement that her plane would be landing soon and to fasten seatbelts. While she slept, the flight attendants had cleaned her area. Clary pulled her hair out of her scrunchie, shaking her curls out around her shoulders. She took out her makeup bag and freshened her face, applying mascara and clear lip gloss. Her face still had a lot of color from her summer in Italy, with even more freckles across her nose and cheeks. She wasn't much for wearing a lot of makeup, much to Izzy's chagrin. She smoothed and straightened her clothes, slipping her dark green blazer back on, she was surprised everything still looked good. She couldn't face the divine Miss Lightwood looking mussed. She made a mental note to send Valentine Morgenstern a thank you note for upgrading her seat. It really had been nice to have a quiet, less crowded place to sit, during the long flight. She fastened her seatbelt and waited to land.
The plane landed with no issues and Clary stood, gathering her belongings, preparing to deplane. She felt nervous excitement building in her stomach. She had been gone so long and had a lot of good times to catch-up on with her friends and family. But first, she would go home, clean-up and go see her parents. She needed that hug from her mom. Even though her dream was just that, a dream, it left Clary feeling a little off. I just need to lay eyes on them. Almost home.
Clary stepped off of her plane and exited to the crowded gate lounge. She made her way over to an empty chair and turned on her phone. She hated not having access to it over the long flight and was anxious to call her mom and dad. When her phone powered-up she was puzzled by four missed calls and several texts from Simon, and two more missed calls from Jace. What the hell?
Clary swallowed nervously and read Simon's first text, "C, don't listen to your voicemails and meet me at Baggage check 10B. I'm serious, just come straight to me. I need you to Trust me." The second text read, "C, we already have your luggage, meet us at 10B. Hurry. Love you." Clary didn't dare read more and decided to trust Simon and not check her voicemails or read any more texts. Something must have happened. Shit!
She quickly turned around to go down the escalators when she collided straight into the solid chest of a very tall young man, her bag's contents spilling onto the floor, with a few loose sketches fluttering out of her portfolio. He wrapped his arms around her tightly to keep her from falling. Her body pressed fully against him, crushing her breasts against his abdomen. "Shit! I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy…" Clary stammered, struggling out of his arms. She quickly looked up at him. He was very handsome, with white-blonde hair and intense black eyes, wearing a black leather jacket. Black everything. He looked like he belonged in one of the Matrix movies. He smiled down at her, running his eyes over her appreciatively.
"No worries, love. The fault was all mine. I'm afraid I didn't see you down there." He spoke quietly with a deep voice and slight accent. He squatted down, picking up her belongings, handing them to her. Please let me help you get your things. You may tip over if you try to get down here in that dress with those heels." Clary laughed nervously and bent down as she quickly stuffed her scattered items back into her messenger bag. Scanning the floor for anything else, she picked up her mess of sketches and put them back in her portfolio. Flustered, she straightened her jacket and tossed her thick curls over shoulder. The young man stared openly at her, his smile widened into a grin. Clary raised her eyebrows. Oh boy. I don't have time to make any new friends today; even if he is really hot.
"Thank you so much for helping me." Clary looked up at him, smiled politely and laid her hands on his upper arms, lightly squeezing. She couldn't help but notice how muscular his arms were. "I'm really sorry to uh, bash into you and run, but I have to go meet someone right now. Thanks again!" She whirled around and hurried away.
Jonathan Morgenstern raised his right eyebrow and smirked, watching her dash to the escalators, going down and disappearing from his view. "It was my pleasure, Clarissa." he murmured to himself. He looked down at her phone that he had swiped while picking up her belongings. It was still open, with texts from Obi Wan Kenobi on the screen. Who is this piss ant texting my Clarissa? He opened her settings, disabled the lock screen and location tracking, and tucked it into his pocket.
She was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her in Rome, weeks ago. He had followed and watched her from afar in the ancient city, per his father's orders. She hadn't been difficult to locate with her bright red mane of hair and curvy little body. All he had to do was frequent the bus stop area, where his father first saw her. She had returned with a group of students a few days later. She stood out from everyone, her beauty incomparable. He had been taken with her immediately. After that, he easily tracked her every move. He had longed to approach her, meet her, touch her, and ask her out like a normal guy. But, his father had other plans and had him fly to New York a few weeks ago, to handle a few things.
His black jeans tightened across his growing erection as he thought about how she had felt in his arms, how her hair had smelled like coconuts, merely moments ago. He wanted to chase her down and wrap his arms around her again; to press against her, taste her, hold her down until she submitted to him. Jonathan impulsively walked towards the escalators, he hoped to catch another glimpse of her. Maybe I will just take her now. Before he could reach the escalator, his phone vibrated. He turned toward a lounge, sat down and answered the call. Valentine Morgenstern's voice spoke on the other end. Long winded asshole.
Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Yes, Father," he sighed, "Clarissa has arrived safely. I was able to get her phone after she accidentally spilled her bag. She was in quite a hurry and didn't notice. I'm on my way to you now. Oh, by the way, Father. Mother is dead." Before Valentine could respond, Jonathan ended the call. One down, one to go.
Putting his phone away, Jonathan Morgenstern smirked again and pulled a second item from the same pocket, a rolled-up paper he had scooped up from Clarissa's spilled bag. Unrolling it, he smiled, gazing at a beautiful, sultry self-portrait of his Clarissa. What a pleasant surprise. She was lying in a bed, the drawing capturing her from the waist up. It was a black and white sketch and she was topless with a sheet draped across her lower body. The amount of time she had spent detailing her breasts was evident. They were perfect, with a sprinkling of freckles that he longed to count in person. Her hair was wild, her lips swollen, as if she'd just had sex. Clarissa, you naughty girl. I can't wait to have the real thing. Jonathan swallowed and tried to contain his arousal. Mine.
Clary stepped onto the crowded escalator, heading down to baggage claim to find Simon. Stepping off, she looked out into the crowd towards section 10B, about a hundred yards away, where they were to meet. She could see Simon's dark, wavy hair and horn-rimmed glasses in the distance. He stood stiffly, with Izzy's arms around him, her head buried in his shoulder. Standing next to them was Jace Herondale. His right hand rested on Izzy's shoulder. Has something happened to Alec? They hadn't seen her yet. Why the fuck is Jace Herondale here? Something's wrong. Clary sped up, her heart began to pound furiously, chills rippled down her back. Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floors as she reached them and finally locked eyes with Simon. No. Oh no.
Six years ago, Simons Lewis lost his beloved father to cancer. His mother, Elaine, was a nurse and was able to care for him at home, in lieu of Hospice, during his last days. The day Mr. Lewis died, Jocelyn and Clary had come to their home, to comfort and support them during such a dark time. After his father passed, Simon had stood up, and looked at Clary, removing his tear-fogged glasses. His sweet, still boyish face had been gripped with a look of such utter pain and sorrow that Clary's heart had simply broken for her best friend. She laid in his room with him, staying the night, and held him as he sobbed, finally falling into an exhausted sleep the next morning. The entire time she held her favorite human, trying to console him, the look on his face when his father died haunted her.
Her best friend had that exact look on his face as he stared into her eyes. He seemed to be struggling to speak and Clary's eyes widened, filling with tears. Simon took her face into his hands. "Clary…there was a... Joc– your mom and Luke…oh no Clary. I–" Simon stammered then started sobbing, his shoulders shook. He dropped his hands to his sides and shook his head. Clary blinked repeatedly, as she tried to make her tears stop, she clenched her fists at her sides.
Izzy looked up at him and then to Clary. Izzy reached out to take Clary's bag, not knowing what else to do, she began sobbing as well. "Oh, god, Clary. I love you, honey." Izzy cried.
My mom and dad? No. Clary shook her head violently.
She stepped back from them, fisting her hands into her hair. Her eyes were wild and she screamed, "What happened? Tell me! Stop fucking crying. Please tell me!" Clary started trembling and her knees started to buckle. She felt as if she was going to faint. Strong, warm arms wrapped around her waist and gently led her to a bench along the wall near the restrooms. People gawked in curiosity and concern.
"Come on, Clary. I've got you, Okay? Sit down, sweetheart." Jace said softly as he squatted in front of her, and placed his hands on her lap, palms up. "I need you to listen to me, okay? I'm going to tell you everything. I'm–, we're all here for you." Clary looked into Jace's gentle golden eyes. He looked very tired and stressed. Sad. Angry. Simon and Izzy came over and sat on either side of her, sniffling, but no longer crying. Simon looked at Jace, nodding for him to take the lead. Simon wrapped an arm around Clary's shoulder, while Izzy sat next to her in silence.
"Okay, Jace. Go ahead, please. Just say it. Do it!" Clary squeaked, as more tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her face. She placed her hands into Jace's open palms and gripped them.
"Clary, there was a fire at your parent's house yesterday. It…it burned completely out of control." Jace continued, his voice steady and clear, even as Clary's nails dug into his hands as her grip tightened and her body went cold. He was in cop mode. "Jocelyn and Chief Gar— Luke were unable to get out in time. They're gone, Clary…I'm so sorry. I'm so god damned sorry. I will find out what happened. I promise. There is an investigation, okay? We'll figure it all out." His voice cracked at the end, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Clary nodded, numb.
Jace started speaking again, but Clary couldn't hear him anymore. Her sobs drowned out his words and her ears were ringing. He stared sympathetically into her eyes, but she couldn't see him. Her tears blinded her. Simon rubbed her back, but she couldn't really feel it. All she felt was cold, then hot, pain in her chest and her limbs, then numbness. Sick. Her parents had burned to death. They were dead. Gone. Did they suffer? They had to have been terrified. My parents are dead. Gone. But I'm almost home. Mama. Dad... Sick. I'm going to be sick.
Clary stood up and waved her hands gently, shaking Jace, Simon and Izzy off. Ignoring their voices, she hurried into the nearest restroom, pushed her way into a stall where she vomited and began sobbing again. After she finished, she shakily walked out to the counter and turned on the sink. She cupped water into her hand and drank from it, rinsing the sour taste of vomit from her mouth. She took a paper towel, wet it, and scrubbed her face clean, and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red and her face was swollen from crying. She turned and slowly walked out of the restroom to go back to her friends. Her legs shook. The three of them were waiting for her, Simon and Izzy took her luggage and Jace reached a hand out to her. She reached her hand out to Jace, intertwining their fingers.
"Take me home."