Blood of the Hunt

Blood of the Hunt - Chapter 13

Sera gave her a faint smile in response as the drawbridge settled against the lip of their side of the chasm. "I do."

Once they had crossed through the confusing path of knives and reached the smooth expanse of adamas that marked the inner wall of the Citadel, they waited patiently on the black insignia of a heart pierced through by a blade. An indistinct shadow took shape within the softly-glowing silver-white wall and began to resolve into a woman's form as she drew closer on the other side. When the adamas split and slid aside to allow her to greet her guests, the older Shadowhunter was relieved to find a familiar face waiting for them.

"Sister Cleophas," Clary murmured respectfully. She doubted that she would ever forget the sister who had witnessed the heavenly fire burning through Jace after his encounter with Sebastian during the ill-fated attack on the Adamant Citadel twenty-five years earlier. Cleophas had held Brother Zachariah in her arms while the flames had scorched away the taint of the yin fen lingering in his blood, severing his ties to the Brotherhood in the process. She had been the last one to touch him as a Silent Brother before he had been restored to a mortal life, before he had been reborn as James Carstairs once more.

The Sister's strange, orange-hued eyes passed over each of the Nephilim women before her. "Who calls on the Iron Sisters? Speak your names," she instructed them formally.

Clary dipped her head in response. "My name is Clarissa Fairchild, and I am in good standing with the Clave."

Surprise registered on Sera's face when her friend chose not to give her Herondale surname and used her full first name. She hated using her own. "My name is Seraphina Morgenstern," she hesitated, remembering Alec's conversation with her. And I think I'm on pretty thin ice with the Clave. Guilt nagged at her. Well, they don't need to know that. "And I am in good standing with the Clave."

Liar, her mind teased.

"We do not concern ourselves with the names of husbands or fathers here, child," Cleophas told her gently. "Blood runs true to the child through their mother; a father's identity may be concealed or lost. Your name?"

She paused, thinking about Ithuriel's Shadowhunter identity, a false name to disguise his true nature. 'Ahren Castledown' had been nothing more than a play on the word for 'angel' in many languages, and 'cast down' in English. I guess I can't fault them for calling me out on that one. But giving them her mother's name... she felt a lump of ice build in her stomach.

"Seraphina Chasewell," she mumbled. This is why I just go by Sera.

The Sister's eyes widened in surprise. "Chasewell? Daughter of Meridian?"

Shit.

She turned her gold eyes down in shame. "Yes."

Cleophas regarded her thoughtfully, her too-long fingers lacing together as she considered. "Then I believe it is the Angel's will that has brought you within reach of the Iron Sisters after all this time, Seraphina."

"Actually," Clary broke in awkwardly, not understanding what was playing out between the other two women, "it's angel's blood that brings us here." Her voice took on a more professional tone. "We are here as official envoys from the Consul to beg the release of the Adamant Citadel's supply."

Astonishment registered on the Sister's face, her strange eyes widening within the complicated, curling tattoo mask that marked her for what she was. "The blood of Heaven is not something lightly given, Clarissa Fairchild. I made the choice to aid the Consul in his exile, yes, but weapons from our armoury may be easily replaced." She looked uneasy for a moment. "What you ask is more than I may grant alone. You must plead your case to our triarchs if you are to have any hope of succeeding." She stepped aside to allow them to pass through the silver-white walls. "Come. I will send ahead to tell them of your coming so that they may convene to hear of the Consul's need."