ꜰʀᴀʏᴇᴅ |ᴀ.ʟ.| ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ {ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴍɪʟʟᴇ ꜰᴀɪʀᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴛʀɪʟᴏɢʏ #1}

{ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟}

Well, here we are.

"I wish there was another way" Clary sighs, "But if Valentine gets ahold of the Cup..."

I try not to scoff at her reasoning. The main reason she was doing this to get Mom back, not to rescue the Cup from Valentine's hands. Of course, she didn't want Valentine to get the Cup, build an army, kill hundreds of mundanes in the process but I knew, even though she didn't, that deep down, all she cared about was getting Mom back.

The crunching sound of snapping chains brings me back to the room and I watch hesitantly as Clary lifts the coffins opening, peering down at the seemingly unconscious Camille.

Deadly white-faced, covered in red cloth and sparkling jewellery...just as I remember her.

"She's dead!" Clary exclaims

"Well, yeah" Simon voices with a 'duh' tone, "What'd you expect? She's a vampire-"

Camille's horrendous, echoing shriek splits through the air and she sits up, but Clary's already prepared, her seraph blade resting neatly along Camille's throat.

"Not so fast" Clary growls

"What took you so long?" Camille inquires of Simon

"Excuse me?"

"I knew you'd come back for your sire, just like you did before" Camille hisses, "We're forever linked, you and I."

"How do you know I don't want to stake you?" Simon asks, his stake still raised, pointed at her chest if she decided to get too rowdy

"Do you?" she counters

"No." Simon confesses and Camille smiles sinsterly

"I do" Clary reveals, "But that's not why we're here. Where's the Book of the White?"

"The book of the what?"

"Aw, come on now, Camille" I hum, that same strange twinge of saying my own name aloud ringing in my brain, "The Book of the White. Big, massive fucking white book. Incredibly hard to miss."

"Never heard of it"

"And yet we tracked it to you" I gasp mockingly, "How in the world could that be?"

"My Darling name doppleganger...what could I possibly want with a spell book?"

"We don't have time for this" I scoff, "Put her back in."

"Okay, okay, okay!" Camille protests, sitting up straighter, "You said it was a warlock book?"

"Yeah" Clary nods, "We think our Mom gave it to you. She ran an antique store. Vampires sell that sort of stuff, right?"

"All the time. But if your mother was even half as charming as the two of you, I'm pretty sure I'd remember her."

"What about Dorothea Rollins?" I ask, the idea dawning on me, "She was her assistant"

"Dot? Oh, but of course. She was our favourite customer. So your entire lives has been paid for by my antiquities. I guess that means you owe me."

"The only thing we owe you" I snarl menacingly, pulling my own seraph blade from behind my back and pressing it to her chest, applying just enough pressure for it to hurt but not kill her, "Is a stake to the heart and if you don't tell us whether you have it or not, that's what you're gonna get."

"Ha ha ha" Camille laughs, amused, "Finally living up to our name. I'm semi-impressed...It's in my apartment on the Upper-East Side. My own pied-á-terre. I can take you there...but you'll have to get me our first."