13. Thinking of you
Clary slipped out of her bed, where Izzy was still soundly asleep and smiled. Izzy looked so calm and sweet when she was asleep, and Clary wasn’t that much of a fool that she couldn’t tell. She pressed a kiss on her cheek like she had done many times to drunk Simon and Maia, and walked out of the room.
She stopped in the bathroom and got changed relatively quickly and then she was downstairs where Sebastian was already awake. She grinned at him. “Why are Morgensterns so easy to predict?” she asked him, and he huffed a laugh.
“Are we doing this?” he asked her instead, and she nodded.
By the time the two of them finally made their way towards the front door, Simon was already standing there, an arched eyebrow in place. “I knew it.” He announced, grabbing Clary’s arm and ignoring Sebastian’s pointed eye roll. Sebastian was a dick, and Simon was used to him doing rude shit. It was how they worked.
The trio quietly slipped out of the house, Simon no longer holding Clary but close enough that their shoulders touched. It wasn’t quiet for long.
“Are you going to tell me why Isabelle Lightwood was in your bed or am I going to have to ask?” finally said the blond shadowhunters, looking at his sister with an arched eyebrow.
Clary huffed. “She was drunk yesterday, after the party, and she was about to start crying when I told her I was going to take her to her house, so I let her stay. It’s no big deal.”
Simon snickered, elbowing Sebastian. “She likes her.” he whispered loudly, yelping and avoiding Clary when she tried to hit him.
Sebastian rolled his eyes at their antics. “Yeah, no shit. That’s exactly why I’m asking.”
The red head pulled a face. “Ew. I don’t put out on the first date, like someone else I know.” She told him, with a smirk firm in place.
Her brother glanced at her suspiciously, choosing to ignore the last part of her sentence. “The fact that the thought even entered your mind makes it suspicious as fuck already. You better stay safe and clean.”
“You giving her sex advice is wrong on so many levels.” Piped in Simon, suppressing the urge to laugh at the bitch face Clary was giving the other boy.
Sebastian sniffed. “I’m underappreciated here. I know stuff and I’m very mature, thank you very much.”
Clary gave one single look at Simon, and they both started laughing at what he said like it was the joke of the century. Sebastian glared, hands on his hips as he stared at them both, but his lips were quirked in an attempt to suppress a smile.
“Oh, will you look at that. The two Morgenstern siblings.” A voice behind them made them both sober up, as Clary and Sebastian both stood up to face the intruder: Robert Lightwood.
The man was holding an old book in his hands, and he smiled pleasantly when they finally saw him, a smile that neither of the siblings reciprocated. He frowned at them. “Did no one teach you that it’s bad manners ignoring people?”
Clary sneered. “Oh no, we’ve been taught not to speak to strangers; especially strangers that have a bad habit of helping killing teenagers and covering it up.”
Robert Lightwood’s smile disappeared, and his lips thinned. “I had no hand in Hodge’s murder attempt.” He promised, but neither of the two looked inclined to believe him.
Sebastian shrugged, crossing his arms around his chest. “I don’t believe you, but I guess you have the benefit of doubt. But I have a pretty good idea as in what you’ve done to Magnus, so…”
Something like regret and anger flashed on the man’s face. His entire body language changed, going from mild behaviour to a predator who wants to take down a very big prey. “Magnus is just another Downworlder. They are all liars, all-”
“All better than you. And keep Magnus’ name out of your mouth, you are nothing but another stupid shadowhunter. Lightwood? Who even knows who the Lightwoods are?” spat Clary, making a step towards the shadowhunter, a hand on her kindjal.
He bared his teeth at her. “I am an important member of the Clave.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You are a member of the Clave that happily sold his comrades for a chance at a better future and whom none of them trust. You are just a pawn, no one really cares about you, or is intimidated by you.”
“Not even your own children like you.” Added the red head, enjoying the way the man recoiled at that like he’d been hit in the face.
He recomposed pretty quickly, a smirk suddenly right back in his face. “Sounds like you already made up your mind about me. But if you want one word of advice-”
Sebastian grabbed Clary’s hand. “No thank you, Clarissa, let’s go.”
They stepped to his right and made to leave, when Robert spoke again. “What would you father say, Sebastian Morgenstern? He was a fan of the tactic keep your friends close and your enemies close-” he was on the floor in a second flat, holding a hand on his busted nose.
The blond Morgenstern glared at him, holding his clenched fist still in the air with a menacing air. “You keep my father’s name out of your fucking mouth.” He snarled, Clary looking impassive next to him.
Robert Lightwood held his nose in his hands as he stood, grimacing at the blood tickling down his fingers. “I was one of his most loyal-” he stopped abruptly, seemingly not to notice the way Sebastian and Clary’s faces were ablaze with anger. He blinked slowly and tilted his head to the side, listening in, eyes looking around intently. For a moment his eyes seemed to focus on Simon and the vampire shivered, but Robert didn’t even see him.
Clary looked at him warily as he stood up, smoothing his face in a small smile. “Have a great day.” He said instead, still smirking as he made his way back to his house.
Neither Clary nor Sebastian said anything, but they had a sinking feeling in their gut that the smile was at their expenses.
When Magnus finally made his way downstairs, Ragnor was already there, dressed up and finishing off his breakfast. The warlock nodded at his friend, while Magnus just stood there watching him finish getting ready.
Ragnor Fell was not only a simple warlock. He was also the only warlock that taught in the Shadowhunters Academy, year after year, generation after generation, even if he hated it.
Shadowhunters Academy was the correspondent of a military School for mundanes. The students were Mundanes and Shadowhunters alike, to finally learn and train to become killer- ahem, Shadowhunters. At the end of the two years training, the mundane students would drink from the Mortal Cup, and finally become real Shadowhunters.
Ragnor hated it there. He hated teaching the super entitled Shadowhunters about history and about the Downworlders, because usually they came from families who despised what Downworlders were and what they represented.
But he did it, because someone had to do it, and Ragnor might be old and bitter, but he was also a good person. He just was that kind of bitter old man.
Normally Magnus just couldn’t wait for his green friend to be out of the door, fishing out an agenda and filling it with all they could do while he was away. Normally that’s what he would do. But not today. Because he couldn’t shake the feeling that if Ragnor left, something terrible was going to happen.
“You can’t go.” Decided the warlock, abruptly. The older warlock arched on eyebrow at him. Magnus shook his head. “I am serious, Ragnor. You shouldn’t leave, you shouldn’t go. It’s wrong.”
Ragnor shrugged, but his eyes were wary. “I know. Something is wrong, I’ve been having these… these weird dreams.” He looked at him in the eyes. “I know.”
The look in his eyes threw Magnus off. “You know. But you’re going to go anyway.” He concluded, and Ragnor nodded. Magnus gazed at him for a few seconds, eyes burning in each other’s. He sat down at one corner of the sofa. “Why?” he asked then, softly.
The older warlock came to stand next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You know it better than me.” He grimaced. “Sebastian and Clary already left, so do me a favour and say hi for me.”
Magnus heard all the words Ragnor wasn’t saying, but ignored them like he ignored the lump in his throat. “I will.” He proclaimed, stifling his surprise when the warlock wrapped his arms around him. Ragnor had never been really big on hugs: he hated them.
“You’re a good kid.” He said stepping back. Magnus squeezed his eyes shut, and didn’t even raise the bait at the ‘kid’. He just closed his eyes and kept breathing, and when he opened them again, there was just a letter on the table and Ragnor and his bad were gone.
The cat eyed warlock stared at the innocuous looking piece of paper that he was certain Ragnor had not even seen, incapable of moving. He didn’t want to touch it. He definitely did not want to read it.
But he was Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, and now, Clarissa Morgenstern’s official guardian. There were things that he must do now, thing that he can’t ignore no more. Responsibilities.
He picked up the paper and started reading.
Simon let out a loud gasp upon seeing the huge Morgenstern Mansion (“It is not mas grande del Hotel Dumort!” was it bad that he could hear Raphael’s comments in his head like that?), walking at a slower pace than the other two as he gazed at it. Sebastian was busy looking at his sister, whose face was carefully blank even as her fingers shook. The gates opened the second she put her fingers on, and she quickly disappeared inside.
The vampire made to follow her, when the blond Morgenstern stopped him. “Simon? You know how I like you very much, and you’re like a brother to me?” he asked.
The brunet nodded. “Yeah…”
Sebastian gave him his snake like smile, the one he used with people he wanted to intimidate. Well, you can now put Simon down to intimidated and horny. What? Sebastian was very good looking (“Que? Soy mas bonito que el, Simon what the hell?!”).
Unaware of what was going on in Simon’s head, the blond continued. “Well, I don’t know what exactly went on between you and Raphael, but: if we go back and I found out you hurt him, I’ll hurt you right back.” He promised, smirking and disappearing inside after his sister.
Did Simon ever say that Sebastian was actually terrifying? (“Eres un idiota. How the hell does little puny Sebastian scare you?”) He never showed any emotion other than anger and amusement, and was fiercely protective of what was his. He never let anyone close in, and seemed content to just live with the warlocks, Clary and Raphael until he died (and Simon, although he would grumble the entire time).
Simon shook his head, avoided thinking about Sebastian’s words, or Raphael, or Raphael and Sebastian’s words and followed him inside the huge house. He stopped for a moment at the entrance, taking in the visual.
The chairs were still scattered on the floors, and there were traces of what might have been food on the table. The living room wasn’t much better, stains of blood still etched on the walls and the carpets, forever staining it.
He found Clary and Sebastian in the library, the girl with her face hidden in his shirts, shoulders shaking a little. Sebastian was murmuring sweet nothings at her as he caressed her back, and Simon stayed where he was watching for afar.
Finally, the girl pulled herself back together and held out her hand to Simon.
This was why Simon admired her so much. She never gave in to her emotions, no matter where she was, who she was with or what was happening. She stood up straight, she kept fighting and she never bow down to someone. She was a warrior princess, and Simon wished he could be like her.
Sebastian instead looked at her with concern in his eyes, like he was worried for her. Simon didn’t understand, but let the red head pull him, as she easily identified a book and pulled it out.
“I found this entrance around the time when you started running off with Aline and Helen all the time. No one knows about it, really.” She said, as the sound of whirring started and the bookshelf moved to let space to a small entrance. She offered both of them a small smile. “Careful, now. It’s very tight.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to make a comment, and both Simon and Clary glared at him, saying “No,” in unison. Sebastian pouted, as he followed her inside.
The place was dark, but Simon could sort of see where they were going, thanks to the vampire mojo (“Idiota, it’s not called vampire mojo!”), but still walked down carefully, in case there was some sort of spell or trap waiting.
They could see a soft light coming from a few meters in front and Clary’s pace and heart quickened as she all but sprinted towards the light, dragging Simon with her. and then they finally stopped in front of the figure.
It was an angel. A freaking angel, and as a Jew, Simon was having seriously difficult times to understand that probably easy concept. Sebastian next to him stared at the creature in awe, while Clary fell at its feet, her eyes filled with tears, but not spilling any.
The angel was looking at them, was looking at her, and what he assumed was his mouth, curved up in a gentle smile. He didn’t open it, but his voice resounded in the small chamber.
You came back. Clary nodded fast, fingers digging in Simon’s palm, but the vampire didn’t complain (“Why would you complain about pain when you have a literal angel in front of you? Quieres morir?”). “I did, I did. I wanted to come earlier, but I-”
I know, young one. She fell silent, contemplating the angel, taking in his form, his eyes, his hair, the ichor still dripping at his chains… that snapped her out of her reverie. “I can save you, now.”
I know. Without anything else, she stood up, her stele in one of her hands, and slipped out of Simon’s grasp.
Sebastian stood a little farther from them, still looking at the creature with his eyes wide open. It wasn’t usual for him, the amount of terror that gripped him when he looked at the angel. He was used to be strong, to be the bigger predator in every fight he had.
Even when they had been locked down in the New York Institute, he had not been this afraid. And having his sister so close to the angel? Did not help his nerves.
I won’t hurt you. The angel’s voice suddenly sounded in his ears, and Sebastian looked up, heart beating faster in his chest. Clary was drawing some runes on the chains, and Simon stood close, behind her. Neither looked up at the words and the angel wasn’t even looking at him, but Sebastian knew he had spoken. And it had spoken to him.
“You know what to do.” Said a voice from behind, and Sebastian didn’t even need to look up to know it was the man from the day before, the man his sister talked about: Lord Morgenstern.
The angel was looking at the man with a strange joy in his eyes, and the man was staring back at him, almost nostalgic. “Please, Sebastian Morgenstern.”
Sebastian swallowed down the nervousness that gripped him and stood next to each other. Then, once Clary had finished her runes, he took out his kindjal.
The gash he inflicted to his palm wasn’t that big, and it would heal in a matter of minutes, if not second. He ignored Simon’s surprised yelp, and held eye contact with the angel as he bent and let the droplets of blood fall on the runes.
Dear Magnus Bane,
How are you? I hope you are as good as ever.
Things have been pretty rough back on Earth. Something has awakened, something dark and twisted, and it’s out, once again, for Downworlders’ blood.
It all started with Simon Lewis. We don’t blame him for what happened, the only thing we blame him for is what happened to Raphael. But I digress.
The night Simon Lewis was born, something else was born, too. I remember when Raphael came home with the fledgling, he sent us to hunt another girl, that presumably had been turned too: Maureen Brown.
Maureen had been savaged in a way that no vampire is allowed to ever do. The most disturbing thing? She doesn’t seem to have a sire. Not in the sense that she killed him; if what she says it’s true, this 14-year-old has been violated, injured, made almost mad with pain and somehow, turned. She woke up alone, Magnus.
And then Simon Lewis, not more than a few days after being turned, killed himself. Yes, Magnus. Simon jumped out of a window in broad daylight to destroy what was left of him, sending Raphael, as you can guess, in a pit of pain, despair and self-loathing.
For some reason, Lily and Elliott took off, left Dumort looking for someone, and have yet to return. No one has seen or heard of them, but I refuse to believe they are dead. I would know, Magnus.
After this, Camille returned. She used the unstable time and overthrew Raphael easily, since at that point the vampire wasn’t even leaving his bedroom to drink.
She executed him.
She allowed him to kill himself like a Christian, but it was her that made him do it. She might as well have done it herself.
And then Maureen came, like a harpy on a mission, and murdered Camille Belcourt in front of the entire New York Clan. No buts nor ifs, the girl destroyed Camille, and then ate her bloody corpse. All she left were the bones.
The vampire Clan is under her control. And this is not all, unfortunately.
Downworlders are disappearing. At the moment, the disappeared count:
Maia Roberts and Jordan Kyle among the werewolves, Elliot Martinez, Lily Chen, Sarah Clarke from the vampires (although we presume that Sarah is dead), Lady Lodovica of the Seelie Court and Catarina Loss from the warlocks.
Someone is out for Downworlders and Maureen is with them.
It looks like dark times await us again.
Yours sincerely
Vladimir Hewitt
It was like being blown face first into a hurricane. The only good thing is that he instinctively grabbed Clary’s hand when everything started shaking and moving, or he would have lost her.
Images and scenes flashed before their eyes, sometimes too fast to grasp, or too slow.
He saw his mother, Jocelyn Fairchild, fighting off Hodge after they disappeared, and then stabbing his shoulder, before grabbing Lucian’s hand and running out.
They saw their father, Valentine Morgenstern, standing in a dark confined place, a dagger stuck in his body as he continued to bleed to death. Clary let out a cry at that, but Sebastian didn’t let her go.
They saw Lily Chen and Elliot curled instinctively around each other, so much pain, sorrow and tiredness etched in their forever young faces.
They saw Maureen Brown sitting on a throne made of bones, her face impossibly pale as she sipped a red hot drink.
They saw Ragnor Fell dropping on the ground, and calling out in pain, body shaking.
They saw Lucian Graymark standing in a library, with the name tag Luke Garroway, as he spoke with other werewolves, worry lines in his face. Sebastian gasped. “Lucian?!”
They saw a young boy, around Clary’s age, his hair dark blond sitting in a small cell, not hurt but completely filthy, blue eyes showing no sign of life.
They saw a battle, a battle of what looked like Shadowhunters against Downworlders, with the two of them right in the middle of it.
They saw the angel Ithuriel standing next to the man in the white suit, their similarities uncanny.
They saw Magnus sitting alone in the living room, hands over his face as he sobbed quietly.
And they saw Simon, on the floor, bleeding slowly from a lethal arrow stuck in his throat.
Thank you for saving me, rung Ithuriel’s voice, as everything moved faster and started to disappear. Accept these gifts, and I shall be forever with you.
Clary opened her mouth to say something, but nothing left her lips. Everything vanished, leaving them standing outside the Morgenstern Mansion, with a dazed Simon behind them and two cards in front of them, shocking drawings on both of them: one was the Mortal Cup and the other was the Archangel Michael’s Sword.