Eclipse | Alec Lightwood [1]

Dead Man's Party | Season 01 Episode 03

"He didn't mean to throw it," Simon babbled.  Corey rolled his eyes, looking at Simon as if to say, Oh, yes I did, with that simple motion.  "Of course he did, darling." Simon, continuing to pace, ignoring Camille's words.  "He hates throwing things—literally hates throwing things.  I've never once seen him throw anything!  Even at his own softball game! He would never throw anything, honest to God—oh God," Simon whispered, halting all movements.  "You guys can't say God, can you?"

"For Gods sake," Raphael said, his voice holding more irritancy than his face, "what are you trying to say?"

Corey looked to Simon from where he sat on the couch, seeming as if he too were curious in what the eldest Lewis sibling tended to say.  "That— that he didn't mean to throw that... thing."

Camille giggled sadistically.  "Of course he did, darling," she repeats.  "Thats's what makes your friend so amusing."

"How do you find any of this amusing?" Raphael asked, though not once making eye contact with the other vampire.

"I— I can't tell you how sorry I am on his behalf," Simon continued before Camille was given a chance to answer Raphael.  "We can pay for a new suit—"

Camille's fingers snapped, and all of Simon's movements, his meaningless blabbering, all of it, seized.  Corey bounced to his feet, only taking moments to realize what she'd done to Simon.  He quickly ran to his friends, tugging at his arm in a desperate attempt to wake him, though he knew all efforts would be pointless.

"The living are so exhausting," Raphael exasperated.

"But this one will be useful," Camilla reminded, speaking as if Corey weren't even there.

"I don't know," Raphael said.  "Unless breaking the accords was your best idea."

Camilla looked to Raphael, smiling.

"Forgive me for saying so," Raphael said, though his voice held little to practically none sincerity.

"I'll forgive but I won't agree," she said.  "You know as well as I, that Clarissa Fairchild will come after her dearest friend and brother."

Corey's movements halted, and he looked to Camilla; he'd nearly forgotten, through all the chaos, that he and Clary shared blood.

Valentine's blood.

"Once she comes, all we have to do is take them.  One of them is bound to know where the cup is." she looked to Corey, her smile never fading.  "Isn't that right, darling?" she looked back to Raphael, laughing softly.  "He does look delicious, doesn't he?"

. . .

He felt wrong.  He felt numb.  He felt gone.

The kisses she left along his neck were cold and dry, her cherry lipstick branding his ivory skin.  He felt nauseous.  "Would you like to help me," Camilla purred into Corey's ear, the nails of her fingers tracing down his jeans.

He wanted to say no, he wanted to scream it from the rooftops, but his lips were sealed. 

"That isn't a denial," Camilla said, her touch continuing to linger on his body.  "Would you tell me where the Mortal Cup is?"