ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴʟʏ ꜰɪʀᴇ ~ ᴛᴍɪ

Chapter 1 - New York Institute

This was a curious case, indeed. Nephilim were angel-blooded warriors, whose's entire mission is to protect humans from the forces of demons. Demons that slip through the tears in reality to enter worlds and feed. While the blood of the angel Raziel ran through their veins, some choose to live a quiet life among mundanes. Perhaps this girl was one of those.

"Precisely," Hodge agreed.

Allison hummed in response. The floor, where she was tapping her booted foot, was laid with pieces of glass and marble in a pattern of constellations that would be seen more clearly from a higher perspective. A beautiful Institute, indeed.

"Let's start interrogating the girl, then."

"She is still unconscious. The one who brought her here had applied the iratze and is keeping an eye on her."

"Jack Wayland?"

"Jace." Hodge corrected. "He was also the one who wrote the report."

"A small suggestion. Never in the future — preferably in the immediate future — let him write." She requested. The humor was entertaining but, if it was someone else, the reaction would have been entirely different.

The huge double doors opened and in strode a boy. He gave a look towards Hodge in recognition, then flopped into a plush red armchair near the fireplace and spoke in a bored and monotonous voice, "The mundane is alive, unfortunately."

Hodge raised an eyebrow, clearly considering the newcomer's words. His eyes then flickered back to Allison but she raised her hand to not reveal her. The highbacked chair hid her from the boy's view, which she wanted to maintain for a while.

"I suppose Isabelle is bringing her to meet me?" Hodge asked instead. The boy just shrugged in reply.

She could see him in the reflection of the glass panel behind Hodge, his long limbs stretched out, his head tilted to look at Hodge. His jet-black was stark against his high-colored skin.

He looked familiar, Allison thought.

He resembled Maryse and Robert Lightwood, it clicked in her mind, the Heads of this Institute. He must be their son, though she didn't recall his name. But if he's Maryse's son, he did seem to share his mother's annoyance.

The doors opened once more, revealing a red-headed girl followed closely by another boy.

The girl didn't seem to notice anyone, because she was busy admiring the grandeur of the library. Though her emerald eyes were scrunched up as she looked at the constellations designed on the floor. Her eyes studied it curiously as if studying the lines and curves.

Allison would say she was an artist which, in turn, would mean her curiosity would reach the brim. How could a curious mind not wander into the Shadow World earlier? Something or someone must be the barrier. Her mother was apparently kidnapped. Perhaps–

"A book lover, I see," Hodge said, smiling at Clary who finally seemed to have spotted him."You didn't tell me that, Jace."

The boy, apparently the Jace, chuckled. He stood behind the girl behind her and was standing there with his hands in his pockets, with a grin. "We haven't done much talking during our short acquaintance," he said. "I'm afraid our reading habits didn't come up."

The girl, supposedly Clary Fray, turned around and shot him a glare.

"How can you tell?" Clary asked Hodge behind the desk. "That I like books, I mean."

"The look on your face when you walked in," he said, standing up and coming around from behind the desk. "Somehow I doubted you were that impressed by me."