"Honestly, if you were going to do some hero stuff, you shouldn't have been flung out of a ship," Isabelle commented. "I mean, you should first be in the place of danger. Not thrown out so soon."
The person to whom the question was directed, her brother, gave her a dirty look. Isabelle just continued sipping the jasmine tea her mother had brought.
"She is telling the truth," George concurred with her, leaning against the footboard of the bed. Alec just shook his head in defeat and looked outside the window.
The three shadowhunters, after being fussed in the infirmary had retreated to Isabelle's room for peace and quiet. The siblings invited him, much to his surprise. Then again, the three used to be good acquaintances as children. Maybe there was some atypical kind of friendship between them. With Alec, that is. He didn't want to think about Isabelle. Not that has stopped you before, his subconscious ridiculed, but he shoved that down.
Nevertheless, George was restless albeit in the middle of healing the bad gash on his head. Turns out the blinding headache was because he'd torn open his forehead and didn't realize it for the initial few minutes. The things adrenaline does to you, he had thought bitterly.
Now his head was bandaged, sipping the tea Izzy too was drinking. Medicinal and soothing enough to make the pain reside.
"You can't blame me if I'm not gifted with special angel blood like Jace and Allison, Izzy," Alec said blandly.
"Sure," Isabelle snickered, her dark hair left unbound. Perhaps he did like her hair loose, which seemed to gobble up light from around. Such a dark shade, he thought. Not even a hint of brown. A stark contrast to her pale and high cheekbones. Her dark-brown flecked eyes were tired, not glittering as they usually did. She wore a loose sweatshirt after changing out of her bloodied gear and looked comfortable lying amongst the pink satin pillows with frills. He didn't know whether he liked her so laid-back, unlike her usual bravado. Not that he minded that, he loved the way she danced through life with such boldness. But it felt precious, a secret thing of great value, that she could be at such ease in his presence. Romantic fool, George could almost hear Allison mocking him. Izzy's light gaze, usually intense enough to make him sweat, drifted toward his with her beautiful smile. His heart almost stopped.
That's when he realized he was staring at her.
"That doesn't mean I don't worry about my parabatai," Alec sighed and stood up from the chair he had pulled out beside the bed, saving George from embarrassment. "Who knows whether he got out of the ship? It burned into ashes."
"Don't forget Allison," George said dejectedly, concentrating on Alec instead. "She was near dead when I last saw her."
"Why aren't you both parabatai then?" Isabelle sat up straighter, though it seemed to take effort. The poison certainly took time to heal.
"It's rather a stupid reason."
"Not as stupid as Jace pinning over Clary."
George gave an unimpressed look. Isabelle was not backing down.
"There's a rule stating that Investigators can't be parabatai." said George at last. "Investigators have a higher chance of death than others since we embark on far deadlier missions. Hence, having parabatai is strictly forbidden."
"So that if one dies, the other doesn't have to live with that pain," Alec said quietly. "I forgot about that rule."
"Jace will be back soon," Isabelle's voice turned soft, looking at her brother with concern.
"I would know," Alec smiled at her, for her sake.
"How do you know about Investigators this much?" she asked Alec instead, frowning. "I don't remember Hodge discussing them that much,"
"Because I didn't sleep and drool at his classes."
Isabelle threw a pillow at him with her free hand. And winced.
"Careful, Izzy." George reached forward and took her teacup, which was empty. He set it down on the table beside her and said, "I honestly never had much interest in joining as an Investigator. But one thing led to another and here I am. Besides," he added. "I couldn't ask her to leave her passion."
"That's sweet of you," Isabelle commented.
He just shrugged. But a different question came into his mind. "Do you think Valentine finished the Infernal Conversion?" He knew Allison must have continued with Jace to stop it. But the question is, had they done it?
"We won't know anything," said Alec. "Unless either Jace or Allison explain what the hell happened."
A dark silence settled, which made George even more restless. Alec seemed to have enough as well, and announced, "I'm going to check on Dad. I'll be back." With a parting look, he left the room with a conflicted face.
"Your brother will be fine," George said, noticing Izzy's concerned look. "As much as they fight, Ally won't let Jace die."
She nodded absent-mindedly, her mind already somewhere, and muttered. "He better be."
George didn't speak further, giving her the comfort of silence, which didn't ruffle him this time. He shut his eyes for a minute, the headache now a dull throb. The bandage did obscure his vision a bit, but it did keep his head from being split open. He relished in the easy silence, the tiredness he had tried to ward off threatening to creep in. Yet, his body seemed to start to shut down.
"You should lay down for a while," Isabelle's voice filled his ears like a lullaby. "I don't mind,"
He smiled without opening his eyes. "If you're into cuddling, I'm in,"
"I don't cuddle,"
"I know,"
Silence settled again. This time, he opened his eyes and sat straight. "I should head down. I won't disturb you. Rest."
"No, wait," She looked like she wanted to say something, her hand reaching for her neck to hold the ruby necklace she always wore. Only it wasn't there. Which she seemed to realize right then.
"Fuck," she cursed, her eyes ecstatic. "I lost my necklace! My mom—" She stopped as she noticed the said necklace dangling from George's fingers.
"I found it after I took care of that demon," George said, noticing her misted eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. After all that happened—"
"It's okay," She breathed a sigh of relief. "You found it. Thank you, George,"
Before he could lose his nerve, "Can I?"
He knew her knee-jerk reaction would be no. But to his surprise, she nodded, with a look that he couldn't decipher. Slowly, he moved from the end of the bed and sat by her. She was taller than others but still had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. And, of course, her eyes were guarded.
Something caught his eye when he looked at the necklace. An inscription was etched on the silver frame. A Latin phrase. "Amor verus numquam moritur, " he read out. True love never dies.
Izzy said nothing.
He reined in his sigh and slid her hair away from her neck. Silky strands that he wanted to thread his fingers through. But he pushed them back to reveal her long, delicate neck. Careful not to touch her skin, he placed to necklace and wound the clasp behind her neck. George was sure she sucked in a breath as his arms went around her.
He backed away as soon as he was done. Isabelle touched the ruby, and a smile graced her lips. "It's an heirloom. My mom gave it to me a few years ago. I always wear it, just like Alec wears the Lightwood ring."
"It's fitting. Red is truly your color," To his surprise, she blushed, looking away. "That as well," he added.
"Oh shut up," She tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes dancing. "Such a gentleman, you are. Anyone else would've tried a feeler,"
"And would've left with their balls nailed to the wall," He stated. "I'd rather not risk it. Mine's a thing of beauty."
She laughed, and he couldn't help but listen to that symphony with a smile. Ah, he was fucked. He met her again just a few days ago, and he was fucked. Their gazes met again, and for once, he gained the courage to not look away. Heat rushed through him at her attention.
"Oblivious as always, George," she said, suddenly glaring at him.
He only blinked. "What?"
She sighed and pushed her blankets away. "Just come here," Before he could formulate that, she kissed him, her hand winding up his hair. Utter shock coursed through him, making him gasp. Certainly not what he'd expected. Yet, his eyes shuttered as he leaned into her touch. Her lips parted, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss.
Any surprise that he felt dissipated. Isabelle tugged his hair to bring him closer. He just took her onto his lap in a single maneuver, that brought out a gasp from Isabelle. He smiled into her lips, his hands wound around her, tracing out her outline. She settled easily against him, her legs settled around his waist. Unhurriedly, she explored his mouth, steadily, and leisurely. He half-wondered if he was stuck in a dream. How could Izzy kiss him so softly, so gently? How could Izzy be kissing him? A fever dream, he thought and shuddered.
To ensure his own sanity, George slipped a hand inside her sweatshirt, and traced a finger down her spine, unhurriedly. She let out a moan, to which he pressed his palm flat against her warm skin. By the angel, this is real.
He began to kiss her along her cheekbone and bit her earlobe playfully. "Tell me to stop if you want," he whispered against her ear, and slowly, thoroughly, kissed the column between her neck and shoulder.
"Oh," she let out another gasp but inclined her neck for more. He only chuckled against her throat and flicked his tongue across her skin. "Finally," he whispered as a deep moan escaped her mouth. He kissed her collarbone, nuzzled her necklace with his nose, and drifted down.
"Take it off," Her voice was breezy, but he was glad to comply. He lifted his head from her neck, but the sudden movement sent a new wave of pain through his head. He tried but failed to hide his wince.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Horror coated her words. Her palms cradled his face as he shut his eyes to ignore the bout of pain.
"It's nothing, Izzy," He assured as he cracked his eyes open. And to find her face before him took away some pain. "I must look like a fool with a bandaged head,"
"More like a gorgeous fool, don't worry," Their breaths collided, and he wanted to kiss her again. Kiss her until he figured out her desires. Kiss her until he melted against her. Kiss her as long as people could go on.
She flicked off his wayward hair above his bandage, her eyes softening as if she'd wanted to do that for a while, studying him as if she was noticing something. He left her to her leisure perusal but traced his fingers in slow circles on her bare back.
Her lips parted again, and he grinned. "You like that, don't you?"
"Oh, fuck off,"
"If it includes you,"
Her eyes sparkled, but before she could say anything, footsteps grew outside the door. "That must be Alec," In an instant, she was off his lap, half under her covers when the door opened. George was irked by the interruption but felt a sense of relief as Jace stood at the threshold.
Isabelle let out a cry of relief and stumbled towards Jace, who had already reached his sister. With a sob, she hugged him fiercely.
Though the grimace Jace tried to hide didn't go unnoticed by George. He had taken a shower, his wet golden hair stuck to his forehead. His face was filled with scratches and bruises, wrists and legs bandaged. Still, he didn't let go of Izzy. Annoyed, George stood up, still feeling a bit dizzy, predominantly due to that kiss.
He moved towards the door, hoping Allison would be out there somewhere, when Jace said, "Allison's in the infirmary. Battered, but she'd survive." He nodded but Jace added, "Tell her thanks."
For once, his amber eyes were serious and grateful.
Isabelle looked up and met his gaze. And nodded, understanding, which did surprise him. Full of surprises, that one. With a small smile, he stepped out into the hallway. He knew. He knew Jace was there when Imogen died. And couldn't fathom how Allison would take it. Does she know? If not, what could he say to her?
The thoughts in his mind were loud enough that he didn't realize he had made it to the infirmary. And was looking at Allison lying in a bed. Sudden panic coursed through him because she was lying in an unnatural stillness, her usual light tan skin now sickly pale. But the light rise and drop of her chest made him sigh.
"A sleeping draught," A voice said from behind him. He turned to look at Maryse. "To ease the pain and to let her rest."
The question in his eyes needn't be said aloud. "She knows," Maryse answered.
He flopped into the chair and gestured for Maryse to sit beside him. "Please do sit." Without a word, she sat. She wasn't out of her gear, covered with blood, sludge, and ichor. "How is Mr.Lightwood?"
"Better. But would be bedridden for a while."
"Do you need any help?"
Maryse dismissed it and said. "I received a message from your mother, asking about your health and that you return to Alicante immediately."
George scowled. "I don't need to be coddled."
"Mother's love can be blinding."
As much as he felt embarrassed, talking to his mother always cleared up his mind. She would wack him in his head, scolding him in Mandarin, yes. But she would always show him a way out of the fog. His mother was kind but stubborn. He did need Jia.
"She would be in the Imperishable Fields. You could go and help her prepare the ceremony for the Inquisitor's last rites."
"Two birds with one stone, Aunt Maryse?" He smiled towards her.
Some tightness in her face loosened. "Imogen's lawyer wants to talk to Allison before the ceremony, about the inheritance. I've told Jia I'll keep an eye on the proceeding. She told you not to meddle."
"Sounds like mother dearest, through and through," With another exhaustive sigh, he stood up and walked towards Allison. Her shoulder was heavily bandaged, otherwise, she looked fine. The sleeping draught seemed to wear off, though. Her eyes fluttered and her breathing became more normal. She was going to wake up soon.
"Before you go, I need to ask you a favor," Maryse said as she too stood up, straightening her back to continue her long day. "Keep an eye on the Head Investigator and the Consul."
George turned in confusion.
But Maryse's mouth was set in a straight line. "They both were much more loyal to Valentine than I was. Common knowledge, but know that..." Her voice dropped low, words came out as whispers to keep from eavesdroppers. "Imogen was the only one keeping them in line. With her gone, especially with Valentine alive now, it's a dangerous time."
A cold feeling settled inside him, making him tense. Before he could ask her more questions, she was gone with a parting look. Problems after problems, he thought. But he did take this warning into his mind. He had never trusted them. And to think what they'd do without Imogen, who had them in a taunt leash, he shuddered.
What would they do to Allison?
George took a deep breath. He could take care of this. One step at a time.
He took a stray piece of sheet and started to write.
Jia wants me in Alicante to prepare for Imogen's ceremony. Imogen's lawyer would talk to you after you wake up. Call Maryse. I'm sorry for not staying back. The least I could do is help you by being in Idris.
- George.
George placed a kiss on her forehead, to which she stirred again but didn't wake yet. He placed the note on the table beside her. He would grieve. He did love Imogen enough to grieve. But as for Allison, she would be a living example of suffering in silence. He could not prevent it. He only hoped he could help her endure it.
~~~~~
The old and ancient voice of the lawyer skimmed Allison's mind but didn't linger since she didn't bother to pay attention. The whole formalities were not a stranger to her, Imogen had made sure she knew everything about the whole ordeal after her demise. Made sure the properties and the assets to be obtained were imprinted in her mind. Her grandmother had told her of the whole proceeding when Allison was fourteen. At that time, she didn't realize this would happen when her grandmother died.
Allison kept on expecting the grief and pain of loss to hit her in a tidal wave.
It never did.
She just wanted to get over it.
But there was this hollow feeling inside her, making her fall silent and just stare. Stare at something. She knew her mind would look at a flower vase and figure out ways to throw it at an assailant, whether the water was edible or whether it was possessed. But now...it was just a flower pot to her. She didn't know whether it was a good sign or bad.
Maybe she didn't care if someone came in and killed her.
The lawyer had asked her a question.
She blinked, "Pardon me?"
He only sighed. "Let me repeat the ultimatum, Miss Graymark. The inheritance of the Herondale family is immense. Leaving it even a minute without an heir to be named under is a risk. Your grandmother had been firm in her will that you are fit to handle the inheritance even if you were under eighteen after her demise. The Clave is certainly...wary. Inquisitor Herondale was invaluable and well-respected, hence the Clave is lenient to you. But they pose an ultimatum, of good sorts, no worries."
He stopped his long explanation to see whether she heard it. She merely nodded to him to continue.
"The title transfer can be done at this moment or can be done after you turn eighteen. It's entirely up to your choice entirely. The Clave's careful consideration suggests the latter. "
Allison was honestly not in the mood to make such great decisions. She turned to Maryse— wincing slightly as she moved her wounded shoulder—who was sitting in the armchair nearby, clad in a pristine suit and the epitome of tiredness. "What do you propose, Mrs. Lightwood?"
Maryse only betrayed her surprise with a single blink. Allison envied her.
"You are young," Maryse said, after a moment of consideration. "But clever and tactful enough to keep the inheritance from slipping through your reaches. Do remember you still have a lot more years to hold on to it. A year or two of peace can be good. After all, it's only my suggestion."
Allison considered it. "Will the Clave make sure the properties and shares are maintained without any loss until I obtain it? If I choose the latter one, that is."
"That's the least the Clave could do for Imogen's contributions." The lawyer said. "As a friend of hers, I'll make them."
She nodded again, her fingers unconsciously looped around her bracelet, which reminded her of the truth. This was her birthright. She would not let it fall into ruins. Yes, she might be selfish. But she needed time.
Allison finally sat up straight in her seat, taking a breath. "I'll choose the latter one. I would take the title transfer after I turn eighteen."
"A good call, I'd say." The lawyer said gruffly and was sorting the papers from his folders. Her eyes glanced to Maryse, who as always, looked on the verge of handling stupidity. But now, she finally looked at her eye to eye and gave her a nod. An appreciative nod. That made Allison feel like she achieved something. She didn't deserve that.
The lawyer her a few papers to sign, which Allison read line to line to see if there were some loopholes. It was perfect, as Imogen's handiwork always was. If it had been Allison in her position, Imogen would've done anything to save her. Imogen would've never let Allison die. And Allison, as her granddaughter, the heir of Herondales, failed her.
It was guilt that hit her in a wave now. But she lowered her head to not let her pain show. The wave hit her hard, threatening to take her breath away. No, not now. She said to herself. Not now. She could not show to be weak now. Everyone would watch her carefully, to see if they could find a reason to find her faults. Faults that could threaten her standing. She had never thought deeply about it, it was the only thing that her grandmother shielded her from. And now, she was going to wander like a lost sheep in a pack of wolves.
"Imogen had left you a letter," the solicitor said, interrupting her thoughts. "She said to give after her death."
"A letter?" Imogen hadn't told her about anything related to that.
He produced an envelope from his briefcase and handed it over. Allison was wary as she studied it. It was written recently, possibly a year or two ago considering the lack of light wrinkles and yellowish color. The paper was crisp, the whiteness still prominent. On the front, unmistakably her grandmother's handwriting, To Allison Graymark.
"The letter was given about a year ago," the lawyer said. "I was instructed to give it to you as soon as the decisions were made."
Why? Does it have a secret treasure map to the lost Herondale gold mine?
Allison refrained from asking that. Because she knew this must be important. Not...an official letter to instruct her, no. This type of ink, she used it for personal reasons. She had once used it to inform their relatives about Stephen's death and to let Amatis know that Allison could stay in the Herondale Manor for her training with her grandmother. These were irrelevant, but she knew these were important letters her grandmother had used. And had never written one for Allison until now.
The lawyer had packed his briefcase and stood up, "We are done for now. Iit is your responsibility to contact me after you turn eighteen." He donned his top hat and gave Maryse a nod, to which she returned one. Giving Allison one final glance, "Imogen was ready to let the inheritance be transferred to the Clave, whether she had an heir or not. After you had come along, she was sure to let such a responsibility be bestowed upon you." His gray eyes which had faith made her feel sick. "Don't fail her. Prove everyone who doubted her decision wrong."
With the words resonating in her, he left the room.
Maryse stood up, ready to leave. She gave Allison a questioning look.
"Can I have a few minutes alone?" Allison didn't bother to stop the quiver in her voice. She didn't care for once.
Allison couldn't tear her eyes from the letter, she couldn't will herself to look away. The footsteps of Maryse leaving was the only indication she left her alone. Not before placing a hand on her good shoulder, not a hard and tight squeeze, just enough comfort to reassure her. She let out a noise to which Maryse replied, without taking out her hand. "It is okay to be weak. Showing weakness takes immense courage. Don't shut that feeling out, Allison."
Allison just shook her head, her throat constricted.
With a sigh, Maryse walked out the door and shut it firmly.
Not trusting herself to let her mind wander in the pit of suppressed emotions, she tore the side of the envelope and took out a single sheet of the letter. It was far better and new, not worn out like the envelope. But another piece of content was inside. Confused, she dumped a ring into her palm.
The Heronadale family ring.
Imogen had it with her, Allison knew, but never worn it. She had seen it a handful of times, mostly Imogen just holding it. Never wearing it. It had been her father's.
She brought her attention to the letter. Without sparing another minute to overthink what would be inside, she opened it and started to read the familiar handwriting.
Allison couldn't read the letter again. She wanted to read the words her grandmother had meant from her heart. But she didn't know she could endure that. It was not Imogen who had taken time for granted, it was Allison herself.
She had always complained that her grandmother didn't love her because she had never shown love as her mother did. Her mother was kind and always with a smile even when Allison had done something terrible. But Imogen never showed that kind and Allison had assumed her grandmother didn't care.
Imogen had not given her the love she wanted, but the love she needed desperately.
-----
The Silent City seemed more tranquil, despite the massacre that had happened earlier. Shadownunters have found this place different, something ancient and out of their knowledge. Allison had also been in the same thinking, yet she didn't care about this being the city of bones and ashes of the past.
She stood before Imogen, her body swathed with white silk, only her face insight. Allison still couldn't accept her reality—that Imogen was truly gone. What was before her was just a shell of her grandmother, she knew. But she just couldn't agree.
She knelt on the cold hard floor of the chamber and slowly moved the silk near Imogen's hand. It took a minute, to undo the silk there without making great changes. Her pale, withered hand appeared. Allison took it, the cold was a sharp reminder she was dead.
She brought the hand to her cheek. Just hours before, this hand was stroking her hair. Taking a deep breath, "You have done everything for me and I took it for granted. Maybe I could've saved you. Maybe I couldn't have. But...I'll try. I'll try to admit the fact that you are gone to a place I can't reach. It would take a long time for me to change—I am adamant as you had said—but I promise I'll try." She smiled slowly. "You have brought me up well. I am ready to head out on my own. I am not afraid."
Allison had tried hard not to cry, to not let a tear out. But seeing Imogen, she didn't bother the tears pooling in her eyes. "Rest." She whispered. "Your granddaughter will be all right. Even if you weren't like a typical grandma who braided my hair and told me good night stories, you crafted a warrior. As much as I hated training for an Investigator, you shaped me into the person I am now. I'm grateful. And go on with peace. Knowing that I...that I love you, grandmother." She kissed her cheek, a gesture never done between them. "I will uphold the Herondale name as I do for my Graymark name. Rest."
She finally let go. Let go of her hand. Standing up, she wiped away her tears and smiled slowly. "Say hello to father and grandfather for me."
Allison walked out the door without turning back. The Silent Brothers who were standing outside, three of them made to walk in to make sure Imogen's body was ready. They were to soon head to Alicante, to the Imperishable Fields, and burn her body there. It would be an important one, Imogen died as the Inquisitor. Allison could not miss it even though she was exhausted to her bones. Tired of everything and needed some silence. But she had promised, and what better way to start than going to a funeral with many important heads of the Clave? After that...she had a vague idea.
Allison knew she couldn't take in thought the three pieces of advice—Imogen's wishes—at the same time. Maybe in a while, she would try but there was one thing she could fulfill.
Her Heavenly Fire.
Valentine was not yet gone, still lurking behind her back to make sure his plans would succeed. Allison would not let him do that. Never. What better way than to use the power he plots to use against him?
Allison had seen a familiar face among the Silent Brothers.
"Brother Zachariah?" She asked softly.
A single-robed figure stopped. While the other two Silent Brother's proceeded into the chamber, he turned.
I wished to talk to you earlier, Allison. His voice flooded her mind, a familiar and soothing one despite being devoid of emotions. You were troubled, and I knew well enough you needed tranquility to cope. What's the issue?
"I need your help."
-----
Word count - 4855
A/N -
Here we are at the end of City of Ashes! Honestly, I'be been waiting to write City of Glass where the plot thickens!! With City of Glass starting next, Allison's power would have a huge impact. A lot of whys and whos would be revealed soon. I'll also be introducing new characters who I've been waiting to write about, hence it'd lead to an entirely new subplot unlike the other. Until then folks!