Chase

Chapter 6

Sylvia followed Isabelle through the twisting passageways of the Institute, lit by flickering yellow light, up several magnificent and intricately decorated marble staircases, and through three landings before she finally reached her room. Gently, she pushed open the door and walked in. The room was nothing special. A plain wooden bed, tight white sheets stretched over it. A nightstand next to the bed and a dresser by the window, which looked out onto a small plot of land behind the Institute.

"Well, I suppose I'd better leave you to it." Isabelle smiled and exited the room.

Sylvia spoke aloud to herself, "Well it's not as if I've got anything to unpack."

She stayed in her room, staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything that had happened in the last few days. Her life had been drastically changed, although for the better or the worse, Sylvia didn't know. Whatever being a part of this world was like, it seemed far better than her old life. She wouldn't give it up so easily.

At dinner, which was Chinese takeout, Isabelle introduced Sylvia to the members of the Institute she had not yet met. The girl with the wavy red hair and kind face was Clary, and apparently, she was Jace's girlfriend. This didn't bother Sylvia. She was sure that Jace was attractive, but he wasn't her type. The boy with the curly black hair falling into his eyes, laughing hysterically at some joke Clary had made, was Simon, Isabelle's boyfriend. According to Isabelle, Simon was a mundane, but he was training to become a Shadowhunter. The only person noticeably absent from dinner was Maryse, and Sylvia was not surprised. She knew she hadn't liked her being here, and she supposed she was skipping dinner in order to avoid seeing her again. Sylvia had faced a lot of rejection already in her life. She wasn't going to be hurt by another.

"So can ordinary people - mundanes - become Shadowhunters? Like not just get a bunch of tattoos and look badass in black most of the time, but actually become them?"

Isabelle laughed. "Yes. These tattoos are called marks, and only Shadowhunters can use them. Certain runes give us certain enhanced abilities, like Speed, Strength or Agility. When we get hurt, we can use a healing rune, which speeds up recovery. The runes were given to us by the angel Raziel when he first created the race of Shadowhunters by filling the cup with his blood, and giving it to the first Shadowhunters to drink from. It connects all Shadowhunters, binds them together as one kind. When Simon ascends to become one of us, he will drink from the Mortal Cup. It is, along with the Mortal Sword and the Mortal Mirror, one of the three Mortal Instruments, the three items given to us by the angel. They hold power over all Shadowhunters, and are the symbols of our purpose. To defend this world from demons and other evils. Last year-"

She broke off as Maryse came charging into the dining room, looking distraught.

"Children..." she began. "The Mortal Cup has been stolen from Idris."

Everyone stared at her in shocked silence.

Jace stood. "Do we know who would want to steal it? How they got in, anything?"

"No, I'm afraid not. There was no attack, nothing else missing. The Cup's absence was discovered half an hour ago. The Institutes are all on high alert for any sign of the cup, any whispers of who stole it and why."

Sylvia felt like an interloper. It was as if everyone at the table was mourning a loss, and she didn't even know the deceased. The Mortal Cup was like the Queen of England's crown, right? The symbol that they were chosen to guard the Earth, the symbol of their strength and power, their importance? It was a way of maintaining the survival of their race, but it was more than that. It was a sign that they were superior to all others, chosen to rule by an angel. Chosen to look down on mundanes and Downworlders, anyone who was different to them. Lesser. And while none of the younger Shadowhunters she'd met thought like that, she'd seen it in Maryse. In life, she seen mundanes look down on each other, as if the colour of one's skin determined that they were lesser in some way. Sylvia's parents were Indian, and she'd been looked down on by white police officers, adults and officials her whole life. As if she was less than them. And if these Shadowhunters thought that having angel blood made them any more superior to mundanes, they were wrong. They were just the same.

She noticed the everyone was glancing at her. Not staring of course, but their eyes would flicker on to her and flicker off just as quickly when she wasn't looking.

"Do you know anything about this?" Maryse asked threateningly, her glare piercing through her.

"What she means," Isabelle interjected quickly."is did the vampires say anything about this? Did you hear them say anything about the Mortal Cup, or a plan to steal something?"

"No...nothing." Sylvia stuttered. "I didn't hear them talking about the Mortal Cup. They said something about faeries, though. 'The faeries will not be pleased about the delay.'" She shrugged. "That's all I heard. They asked me if I could do a binding spell. And threatened to kill me a few times. If that helps."

"Is it possible that the faeries have something to do with the theft?" Clary asked. "They were quite upset about the new conditions they were forced to agree to after losing the war. Is it possible they are planning revenge against the Nephilim?"

Maryse grimaced. "It is possible the faeries are working with the vampires, plotting revenge against the Nephilim. I will inform the Clave." With this, she turned around, and briskly marched out of the room.

Sylvia yawned.

"Well, I don't know about you. But I'm going to bed."