I'm in the business of looking for a beta sooooo. ;]
Chapter: Lost In Everything She Trusts
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments, but ya' better believe I own my superhero OC's.
Clary was huddled in the back of the classroom, her, Jace, Isabelle and Magnus hunched over their table, all staring intently at the small screen of Isabelle's phone. It was the day after the fire in the shopping center. She had collapsed on the couch when she got home. Her mom and her mom's boyfriend, Luke Garroway, hadn't heard anything about the fire at that point, and Clary decided against telling them right away. Before she hauled herself up the stairs and into her room, she informed her parents. They hadn't been overly concerned. A little peeved that she hadn't told them earlier, but overall happy that she was alright. She'd turned on the TV before she crawled into bed. In the early hours of the morning, Clary was woken by breaking news, alerting her that the police had come to the conclusion that the fire was intentional and was caused by an explosive device that they had yet to recover. That had sent shivers down her spine, and she purposefully shut off the TV before the reporter could announce the death toll and the amount of people that had been injured.
Isabelle and Simon had been blowing up her phone, demanding to know what had happened to her. She wasn't sure if she could keep her voice from cracking if she returned their calls. So with shaky fingers, Clary sent a message to Simon. The message stated something along the lines of her being fine, she was heading home because she was exhausted so there was nothing to worry about, and to pass the message along to Isabelle and everybody else. Before she shut off her phone, she called Jace. Clary was annoyed with herself as soon as her fingers dialed his number. She was closer to Isabelle and Simon. She wouldn't talk to them, but she would talk to Jace. She reasoned it was because she hadn't seen him after the fire and in all the confusion. Jace didn't answer his phone after three calls and Clary gave up after that. So when she walked into homeroom the next morning, she surprised herself by throwing her arms around Jace, wrapping him in a tight embrace. (Clary did the same with Magnus, but she knew that she clung to Jace much longer than she did Magnus.)
"You didn't answer any of my texts," Isabelle huffed, pulling Clary into a one-armed hug when she was finished with Magnus. "If you had, you would have known they were alright."
Clary turned to scowl at Jace. "Well, I tried to call Jace, but he wouldn't answer."
Jace frowned at her. "Sorry. I lost my phone and when I found it, it was trashed. No one that thing could be fixed. I need to buy a new one."
"Anyways," Clary turned back to Isabelle. "I turned my phone off after that. Didn't Si tell you that I was fine?"
"Oh yeah, Si told me. That still didn't mean that I didn't want to talk to you. Do you even know what happened to you yesterday?"
Clary made her way to the very back corner of the classroom. As usual, they were the first students in the class. Other kids preferred to mingle out in the crowded halls before the bell rang, while the four of them took comfort in the empty and quiet room. Clary slid into her seat at the table, Jace sliding directly into the seat beside her. Isabelle flopped into the seat opposite of Clary and eyed her carefully. "What was that little disappearing act of yours? You ran out of Taki's and when we followed you out, you were gone."
Clary's eyes widened a fraction. How had she not thought of this? Of course Isabelle would ask question about what had happened to her. Clary could have constructed the perfect lie in all the hours between. Now, she had to think on her feet. "Well-".
"A superhero," Isabelle gave her no time at all to answer when she cut her off briskly. She slid her phone across the table and Clary stopped it with her hands. "You literally got rescued by a fucking superhero. It's all over the internet, and the only thing anyone can talk about."
It was in that moment Clary was glad no one else was in the classroom. If what Isabelle was saying was true, she wasn't interested in what would be curious stares from her classmates.
"Isabelle, don't be ridiculous." Her laugh sounded strained to even her own ears. She wondered if Isabelle could hear how nervous she sounded.
"Just watch the video, Clary."
Curious, Jace leaned over Clary's shoulder to watch, and Magnus leaned forward in his seat as well. She could smell Jace's cologne from his close proximity. She turned her head to shoot him a look of disbelief, but he kept his eyes train on Isabelle's phone, adamant about not meeting her gaze. Isabelle realized Clary wasn't going to press play on her own, so with a huff, she stuck out her finger and pressed play for her.
The hand holding the recording device was shaky. This alerted Clary that the video was amateur footage. The image on the screen was a large, black blur. Clary began to open her mouth, to tell Isabelle that there was obviously nothing there, and why in the hell was she being forced to watch this. However, as soon as she began to speak, the image began to clear ever so slightly. Clary could see now that what she had initially thought was a blur was an actual figure. Distinctive features were hard to make out though. She could clearly see an outline, and the longer she stared, the more she could make out. But there was still the constant black smoke swirling around his body, engulfing his figure in it. Within a second, the figure had her wrapped securely in his arms, cradling her protectively against her chest. Clary relaxed though, knowing no one would be able to tell it was her by the mere back of her head. . . Though, her hair might have been a dead giveaway.
"The video cuts off after that. I've watched it enough times to-".
"He has an awfully nice bone structure," Clary murmured, cutting Isabelle off. She had rewound the video and paused it at the moment the fog shifted enough so she was able to make out the mask that covered his face. There was no doubt. That was her hero.
"How can you tell?" Jace asked, a large frown on his face. He snatched the phone from her hand and squinted at the screen. He still didn't back out of her personal space though. "There's nothing there to see."
"Yes there is. You can clearly make out his jawline, and the cheekbones beneath the mask."
"No way," Isabelle said, taking back her phone. "I literally spent the whole night studying every second of that video. I know I didn't miss something as significant as that."
"Well, half his face is hidden by a mask, but you can still clearly tell as plain as day that he's handsome."
Magnus was squinting at the screen of Isabelle's phone. He looked to be having immense difficulty making out the facial features as well. Clary could practically see the gears working in his brain. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet her gaze. Confusion was etched onto his face. His eyes then shifted to Jace, and she imagined they shared a bewildered look, referring to her.
Clary turned to Jace. "Can't you. . . Can't you see it?" Clary asked, trying to keep the trembling note out of her voice. Maybe her friends were pretending on purpose. Maybe they were being jerks to her on purpose, and merely playing what they thought to be a funny joke on her. Or maybe, her mind was just playing tricks on her. . . again.
"I-I've got to go," Clary mumbled kicking her chair back and standing up. "Bathroom." Clary tripped over her bookbag that rested by her feet. She tumbled slightly as she looked at it. She hadn't remembered bringing it into the class. Perhaps that fainting incident a couple weeks ago had done more to her than she had thought.
Magnus watched as Clary left the room, great interest clouding his features. Jace and Isabelle's expression were ones more of concern. They began whispering to one another as other kids began steadily pouring into the classroom. He drowned out their conversation. Clary truly was nothing like he had expected.
He had come to know a lot of people in all the years he had been alive. He'd learned a thing or two about the human race. He had been deceived more than his fair share of times. A liar was becoming easier and easier to spot, to the point where someone could merely open their mouth and Magnus could tell if they were going to be truthful about the words that followed. And Clary was either an extremely gifted actress attributed to her supernatural aura, or she was completely clueless and had no idea what she was, or what she was capable of. Truth be told, Magnus didn't even know what she was, or what she was capable of.
She wasn't human, Magnus concluded after weeks of careful studying and keen observations. Or at least she wasn't completely human, like himself. And that other boy. . .
He had been a real surprise. One Magnus wasn't expecting and one that he wasn't sure he was ready for. Virginia was catching him off guard too early in the game, his head already spinning in too many directions. Maybe his skills were a bit rusty. Between trying to figure out who or what Clary was, who or what was threatening this state, and the new problem of this new mysterious player, it was safe to say that Magnus would be lucky if he managed to scrape by all his classes with a C- this semester around.
To say he was irritated with himself was probably the understatement of the year. He was barely passing any of his classes. He didn't really care much about grades when the world was on the line, but it was another thing to beat himself up over. He was pissed he couldn't make out the boy's features by seeing through the black mist like Clary obviously could. He was ultimately failing at what he came here to do, which was to fight some grand evil he knew nothing about.
With a frustrated sigh and a hand fisted tightly in his hair, he spun away from the computer screen he had been focused on, allowing the chair he was seated in to spin around in circles. School had ended more than a few hours ago. He was watching footage and news coverage and reading all the articles he could find in regards to the fire, now deemed explosion, in the shopping center a day ago. But why and by who was still a part of the missing evidence. Slowly he dragged his hand down the length of his face. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was losing his touch. He couldn't figure out anything these days. Perhaps, he mused, that he'd been at this too long. Maybe he just needed a good vacation. If only someone was able to take his place.
"Chairman Meow."
Magnus slapped his hands against the arm rests of the chair, pushed down, and hopped to his feet. He crossed the small bedroom in a few long strides and threw open the door leading to the hallway in a overexaggerated flourish. His cat, Chairman Meow, a loyal and comforting companion, jumped violently from his position lounging on the bed as the door banged against the wall. He ran after him. Magnus passed the kitchen where the Chinese food he had ordered sat untouched and probably now cold on the countertop. He entered the living room, and Chairman Meow hopped onto the couch and eyed his owner lazily. Magnus grabbed his coat that was draped over the crappy television and shrugged it on briskly.
As he passed by him, Magnus ran his hand through the cat's fur.
"I'm going out," Magnus informed the small feline. "Don't wait up for me."
"Alec is going to be so utterly pissed off when he finds out," Simon whispered, ignoring the cold breeze that sent shivers down his spine and had him shaking violently. He prayed his pretty companion didn't notice. Isabelle, said pretty companion, didn't seem to, as she continued on, his hand clasped firmly in hers. "He's going to pummel me. I'm going to be left a shell of a man. A shadow of my former self. I'll live in a coma for the rest of my life. I'll never love, I'll never have kids, I'll never be the best man at Clary and Jace's wedding. Can you live with that guilt weighing down on your shoulders for the rest of your life? Can you?"
"Shut up, Si, and calm down while you're at it," Isabelle said, raising the flashlight a little higher above her head. She paused in her steps. She spun the flashlight around so that it was illuminating the area behind him. He could see the grin on her face as she glanced over her shoulder to look at him. "You're with Isabelle Lightwood tonight which means there's no need to worry over such frivolous things. I'll have you know I'm an expert at this."
They started moving again, their path lit by the bright light of Isabelle's flashlight. "You're an expert at sneaking into crime scenes in the dead of the night?" Asked Simon dubiously. "Or an expert at sneaking around with boys, and having your brother not find out?"
Though he had his doubts, Simon knew not to put anything past Isabelle Lightwood. She was a definite force to be reckoned with. Determined, sassy, witty, with stunning beauty added into the equation didn't hurt one bit with the amazing outcome. Did it hurt Simon's chances with the girl in question? Probably. But he could learn to live with that. As long as Isabelle Lightwood was happy, then Simon Lewis would be happy, and that's all there was to it.
He wasn't deluding himself. He had never deluded himself. He was in love with Isabelle Lightwood, and it was as simple as that. . . Except, it really wasn't that simple in the slightest. Nothing about his feelings for the vibrant young girl were fabricated in any way, and he was certain that he would travel to the ends of the earth for her if she asked. He'd do just about anything for her. And she was either painfully ignorant of this fact or she was saving him the embarrassment of rejecting him, because she knew he would never be able to live it down.
"Well, I'd say I'm a little skilled in both areas," she angled her head once again to look at him. She sent him a wink that he could hardly make out in the dark. The effect, however, was fairly obvious. His toes curled, his heart clenched, and his brain was sent spiraling into hundreds of different of directions. "I think I'd make a fairly excellent spy. My new career path. Just think of it, Isabelle Lightwood, Undercover Agent, and Simon Lewis Masked Superhero. We could have an illicit love affair. . ."
Ah, superheroes. Somehow Simon knew at some point in the night, the conversation would lead back to superheroes. Growing up, he'd fallen In love with the fictional comic characters. He was a nerd and sure as hell proud of it. Though, nowadays, it wasn't considered as geeky to like the power-wielding superhumans.
"Just think of it. I could be the Black Widow to. . ." Isabelle paused, her brows creasing. "Who does she have better chemistry with?"
Simon didn't answer her question, unable to determine whether it was meant to be rhetorical or not. Instead he dwelled on his own thoughts. He'd always known superheroes weren't real, and neither were their powers, but oh, how could it would if they were real. He could just imagine himself. Broad-shouldered and handsome with well-defined and chiseled features. He'd swoop in with his perfectly styled hair, and cape flowing gloriously in the wind behind him. He'd save a damsel in distress, and she'd be forever grateful, and it would be a slow-burn, but by the end of their story, they couldn't help but fall madly in love with one another. (His fantasies weren't helping break gender roles, but he was unashamed.) Everyone would adore him. He'd quite literally be regarded as a hero.
Of course if there was a hero, there'd always be a villain to follow. Simon wondered if the idiot prancing around in -what he assumed to be leather- knew this or not. Simon was realistic. Obviously this man(?)- kid(?) was not and was living in whatever deluded fantasy world he had created for himself. He wasn't a real superhero. He couldn't be. It was all merely a clever trick. Wonderfully pulled of too, Simon mused. Of course, the part of him that was still clinging tightly to childhood and youth hoped more than anything that he was. And the sensible part of him hoped that somehow all the laws of logic, physics, and science had been defied. Though he knew it wasn't true and it would most regrettably never be.
Isabelle stopped suddenly. Simon was too preoccupied in his thoughts to notice. He rammed roughly into her back. They both fell forward, propelled by the momentum of his ungraceful trip which soon turned into her ungraceful trip. They crashed to the ground, Isabelle going down first, and Simon toppling onto her back. They landed by the side of one of the buildings that had suffered the most damage, though luckily it was in the grass. Isabelle's flashlight rolled out of her hand, and the offending object must have landed on its side just perfectly on the switch, because within a second, the light flickered out.
Simon heaved out a sigh, mentally cursing himself for being such a klutzy idiot. He rolled off of her quickly. This is not the way to get a girl to fall for you, even though she did, quite literally, fall for you. "Sorry, Iz, I-".
But Isabelle didn't hear him out. Instead she whacked him harshly against his chest and uttered a soft "shh!"
Simon paused. He opened his mouth to question her, but closed it when he heard soft voices floating out from the damaged building. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Isabelle's hand fumbled in the pitch black cloak the dark night cast over them. She gripped his shoulder, moved her hand down, placed her hand around his forearm, moved it lower yet again, and finally her slim fingers intertwined with his own. He gulped as she squeezed his hand.
"Let's go," she whispered. For a second, he assumed she had been scared off by the voices. He interpreted "let's go" as in "let's go and get out of here". But he was wrong, as he usually was. She rose to her feet first, and he followed quickly before she began pulling him towards the entrance of the building.
"Isabelle, I don't this is a good idea-". Isabelle cut him off with a harsh tug of his hand.
Simon could usually let a lot of things slide. He considered himself to be a go-with-the-flow sort of guy. He cut Isabelle a lot of slack. But this, this might be where he has to draw the line. Sneaking out of his around midnight? He was a little reluctant, but he got over it. Entering a closed off crime scene? That was pushing the limits. However, he wasn't keen on dying tonight, and walking into a building that might just collapse and cumble down around them at any given moment was a bit too much.
"Just c'mon."
. . . Didn't he say he would do just about anything for Isabelle Lightwood?
Jace was mentally kicking and berating himself the duration of the day. There was a long history tied to Black Dragon. The Herondale family only played a small part in it. Black Dragon was believed to have originated in China, moved to London, England, and was, as of recently, with Jace in America. William Herondale, one of Jace's ancestors, had kept a detailed journal, recounting his adventures as Black Dragon in great detail. According to William Herondale, he had been gifted the pendant, the source of Black Dragon's powers, by his closest friend, James Carstairs. That was the first page of the journal at least, and Jace found he was too lazy to read any more. On occasion, he would thumb through the entries when he wanted to learn more about the powers he had, or when he was bored and wanted to do a bit of light reading before bed. However, he never made it very far before he moved on to do something else.
Black Dragon had a long and intricately woven history from what he had gathered. In Chinese lore, Black Dragon was held in the highest regard, and praised. But the recounts of his existence were questioned often in modern times. He was nothing more than a living legend that no one could know about. In the possession of the Herondale's, Black Dragon worked in the shadows. And as Jace learned on his fifteenth birthday, the Herondale bloodline worked hard to keep it that way. Like a stupid kid, he'd thrown all that hard work away.
His father wasn't nearly upset as Jace would have expected him to be. Stephen Herondale looked momentarily confused as his son told him what had happened. Then he gave Jace a tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He told his son that it couldn't be helped, and he'd certainly done the right thing by helping. His mother, Céline Herondale, as expected was overly concerned, scanning his body thoroughly for any signs of injury. He told his parents he was fine. What he didn't tell them was why he had done it, or what he had done after it.
Jace still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he had kissed her. He, Jace Herondale, had kissed her, Clary Fray. (Well, he supposed it was technically Black Dragon that had kissed her, but in the end it didn't really matter because they were both the same person at the end of that day.) But technicalities didn't really matter because he had still kissed her. He was sort of freaking out and having a mental breakdown. He'd kept himself coolly in check when he was around her this morning. Though internally a violent war that was sure to have plenty of casualties was waging on.
He'd kissed plenty of girls before. He'd broken up with plenty of girls before. He was sure there would be girls after Clary. She really shouldn't have been any different. But somehow she was, and that was really sending him over the edge.
Though he'd composed himself and calmed his racing heart around her earlier that day, Jace didn't miss the way Clary practically sprinted from the room when she saw him on Isabelle's phone. He felt extremely scared at this point. She had seen him. She had actually seen his face through all the dark smoke that was meant to cloud around his body, and protect him from things just like that. Albeit, his face was covered by a mask, but it didn't make it any less unnerving. She'd broken down one magical barrier, who was to say she couldn't break down another. He'd always been told by his father that even if he was caught, most wouldn't even be able to tell what he was. People shouldn't have been able to make out anything out in the smoke, except his body shape. And then because he worked in the dark and dead of night, someone just might convince themselves that what they had seen was never there.
He should have asked his father about it earlier. He'd have to wait until he got back home now. The police had ruled that foul play had indeed been involved. A superhero always investigated, even if it amounted to be nothing more than what it clearly was. However this was personal now. All of his friends had been there, any number of them could have gotten hurt. If the world knew, or at least suspected of his existence, not much more damage could really be done now, good or bad.
Besides, everyone adored a good superhero. . . Right?
Well, this most certainly was an odd predicament to be in.
"So," the girl started, her hand resting on her hip. "Who wants to start talking?"
"Maybe the boy who waltzed into a crime scene like he owned the place," the other male in the room cut Magnus a look. "Revisiting the scene of the crime, eh? Come back to see your handy work?"
"Calm down, I'm like sixteen, and sure as hell not an arsonist, or terrorist," Magnus said, his eyes narrowed. "But maybe it should be the two kids prancing around in the costumes and masks," Magnus drawled, rising from his crouched position.
And behind the masks, Magnus watched as Clary and Jace shared an identical look, though they surely wouldn't know they were mirroring one another's expressions. Within that second Magnus realized just how complicated things were about to get. Now that he thought about it, he really did need to start wearing a mask.
I'm trying this new thing called being productive, but all I want to do is cry. Like, I'm taking my dog jogging with me every morning because less people are out and it makes me feel less awkward. I'm cleaning around the house. I'm trying to write at least a thousand words for any story eveyday. I'm good so far, but it's only the second day, so let's just see how long this insane idea of mine can last. :DD
Anywho, if you didn't catch it at the top, I'm looking for a beta, so if anyone is offeringggggg. lololol.