"So you don't know Elvis Presley? Queen?"
Allison just shook her head. "I know the names. Haven't heard their work yet."
Simon was offended. "Why are you even alive?"
She glared at him, which made him reconsider his words. "You really don't have any music in your secret city?"
"We do have music, Mundie," she scoffed, propping her legs on the dashboard. "My grandmother's place has vinyl records. I didn't care enough to listen to them."
Simon had the sense to not continue this conversation and pursued to sort through his friend's CD collection. Surely, she must've been the one to lead the others to Dorothea's apartment. She surprised herself though. Allison opted to stay behind. She had promised the Inquisitor to not get involved. Rather not get caught in action, she explained to Jace and stayed back with Simon.
Rain splattered hard down the entire city. She was glad to be inside this infernal van, to be fair.
"You look tense," Simon didn't have to look up from his CDs.
She was, indeed. Something was very wrong. Her senses were on high alert as if something unnatural was nearby. Possibly Forsaken. Yet...
"Don't you smell something putrid? Rancid? Actually, do not answer that."
"I get the feeling you really love this van," Simon shot her a side-eye.
"That's a different issue," She peered out the window, hoping to find something unusual. Another wave of the malodorous scent hit her. As if some sort of a demon was inside. Isabelle had found some demon traces. But this...it was stronger than the other scents. That was another ability she had, aside from Heavenly Fire, she could track down what species of a demon just by the smell. Like a bloodhound, her trainer had commented once.
This smell was one of the most powerful she had encountered.
"Fuck it," She said and opened the door. "If this ends up badly, head back to the Institute and warn Hodge. Do not, under any circumstance, enter that apartment. Understood?"
Simon frowned. "I can't let Clary—"
"Did you understand what I said?" She asked him again, with a calm yet serious voice.
He reluctantly nodded.
Allison stepped out into the rain and made her way to the apartment complex.
Even opening the foyer made her cough. How come the others did not sense this? She should've been inside earlier, then let them through. The door was open, and she spotted Isabelle first. Who was taut with a dagger in her hand. Allison slowly crept to the door and heard a woman's voice speaking, "Would you like to use the Portal?"
"Don't touch that—" Jace.
There was a collective catch of breath, that made Allison stumble in.
The Portal was a spiral of black and red. Scarlet rolling clouds shot through with black lightning. A terrible-black figure shot through, that made everyone drop to the floor. Allison landed beside Isabelle when the figure strikes the supposed Dorothea. She screamed, thrusting her arms upward. Rather than knocking her down, the dark thing wrapped her like a shroud. Her back humped monstrously, her shape elongated as she rose and rose into the air, her bulk stretching and re-forming.
"I did say I sensed something bad!" supplied Allison, staying close to the floor.
"You should've implied how bad it was!" Alec said in a choked voice.
"Look!" Isabelle shouted, the hand holding her whip trembling. The demon twisted into a grotesquely misshapen form. Allison stifled a gasp, and said, "Head to the door! NOW!"
Jace shoved Clary towards the apartment door, and Alec and Isabelle followed them. Allison kept up the rear. Isabelle took the lead then and raced toward the front door, tried it, and turned with a stricken face. "It's not opening. Must be a spell—"
Jace swore. "Where's my stele?"
"I have it," Clary said. But that's when Allison noticed the Mortal Cup. To her surprise, it was the size of a regular wine glass. Though...she felt the power that thrummed through it. Like a live wire. And it seemed to call out to her. Clary gasped suddenly, "It's—"
The Mortal Cup shot from her hand. Towards Allison.
She grabbed it before it struck her down. The moment she caught hold of it, it glowed. "What the—" Allison started before a noise like thunder exploded through the room. The floor heaved under her. She stumbled into a crouch, the Mortal Cup still buzzing in her hand. A gaping hole in the wall separating the foyer from Dorothea'a apartment. Something oozed around it. Allison could only jump back as the creature landed in the foyer.
Allison made no noise. She was on the floor, her legs didn't move. Because this was an embodiment of every single Nephilim. "Greater demon," she muttered in disbelief. She heard someone curse and someone pray.
Its empty eye socket fastened on her then inclined its monstrous head. "I suppose it is true. A child of the Nephilim with the Prince's blood." It looked at the Mortal Cup in her hand. "The Mortal Instrument called for you. How fitting." It stepped forward to her.
"I don't have any Prince's blood," said Allison, trying to steady her breath. "What are you?"
The thing inclined its head. "I am Abbadon. I am the Demon of the Abyss. Mine are the empty places between the worlds. Mine is the wind and the howling darkness. I am, as unlike those mewling things you call demons as an eagle is unlike a fly. You cannot hope to defeat me. Give me the Cup or die."
Jace hauled her to her feet, and she felt dizzy. As if the creature's presence drained her. Some rotten part of it ate away her own energy.
But the demon turned to her. "Give up the Mortal Cup."
Allison drew out her shortsword and shared a look with Jace, who nodded in return. This was a demon, and Nephilim thrived in killing them. The battle adrenaline now coursed through her. She was a fucking shadowhunter. She would not cower to him. Tossing the Mortal Cup back to Clary, she looked at the monstrous demon. "Unfortunately, the Mortal Cup is the redhead's. And you have to go through us to get it."
"For once, I'm with her," Jace drew out his seraph blade.
Allison surged first, with the element of surprise, as her shortsword tore through its flesh. She turned it towards its chest, which made it snarl and lash out its razor hand. She ducked and moved away. Jace stepped in and sunk his blade into its fleshiest part—its abdomen. It struck him. He rolled off like a cat, though his arm was injured.
Allison surged forward now, and cut open its filthy grey hide. It snarled but she struck again, not giving it time to think. She did it consecutively, its front was a huge mess of ichor dripping. Though it looked like it merely annoyed it. Jace threw another seraph blade, bright and gleaming. And he grinned, as the demon reached for him. Isabelle, screaming, lashed at it, which ended in vain.
Allison attacked it again, but this time, it caught her blade and send her flying toward the staircase. Her back hit a banister and she blacked out for a minute.
Isabelle's scream brought her back to reality. She was screaming Alec's name. Then, her screaming stopped in an instant. With a grunt, Allison raised her head. Her back was bruised. Badly. She spat the blood on her mouth and got to her feet. Sheer will made her walk.
Clary was right below Allison, below the stairs. Alec was strewn towards a corner, with Jace staring at him with shock. She looked back, and up towards Allison, her emerald eyes reflected horror.
Allison knew already the decision she made was not going to end well.
"Jace!" She called out as she staggered downstairs. Abaddon had thrown her to the very top. Isabelle clawed her way to a sitting position and managed to throw a dagger at the demon. It still moved towards Clary, who was weaponless. In utter desperation, even her voice cracked. "JACE," Only then, he blinked as if slapped awake. "SERAPH BLADE!"
Jace blinked in confusion. "NOW," she roared this time. He spun in action and tossed her a blade.
Allison used her remaining bit of energy to jump off a stair, caught the seraph blade mid-air, and brought it down on Abbadon.
Heavenly Fire poured out of the seraph blade by her touch. The demon let out a gut-wrenching snarl. Allison dug the blade deeper, and the golden light lit up the room. Abbadon snarled something, in an old demon language. Allison could figure out certain words alone. Heaven, Archangel, Blade, Bond. The rest was gibberish to her. With her limited knowledge of that language, she hissed back, Burn in Heavenly Fire.
At that moment the front door flew open. Simon. She had forgotten he was outside, had almost forgotten he existed. His eyes shone in terror as he took in Allison, surrounded by the Fire. His face got some clarity then. He reached back over his shoulder. He was holding Alec's bow, she realized, and the quiver was strapped across his back. He drew an arrow from it, fitted it to the string, and lifted the bow expertly as if he'd done the same thing a hundred times before. The arrow sprang free. It made a hot buzzing sound, like a huge bumblebee, as it shot over Abbadon's head, plunged toward the roof—
And shattered the skylight. Dirty black glass fell like rain, and through the broken pane streamed sunlight, quantities of sunlight, great golden bars of it stabbing downward and flooding the foyer with light.
Abbadon screamed and staggered back, shielding its misshapen head with its hands. Allison staggered away and collapsed near Clary. She half-expected it to burst into flames, instead, it began to fold in on itself. Its legs collapsed toward its torso, its skull crumpling like burning paper, and within the span of a minute, it had vanished entirely, leaving only scorch marks behind.
The seraph blade partially disintegrated in her hand. "What just happened?" Clary asked her in shock.
Allison, whose voice found some steadiness, just asked, "Are you wounded?"
"That was a risky attempt, Allison," Jace commented from his spot on the floor, shaking his head.
"I managed just fine," she said crossly.
But it wasn't over. The Greater Demon was gone. The aftermath of the fight still wasn't resolved.
Simon had made his way over to Clary and Jace, the latter one trying to heal his injured arm.
She made her way to Alec. His face was white, freckled with drops of blood, his eyes unnaturally blue. "Look at me," She said. Isabelle was beside her now, and silently handed over her stele.
Allison drew the tip of the stele down the front of Alec's shirt. The material parted as if she'd sliced it with a knife. Isabelle watched him through frantic eyes as she yanked the shirt open, leaving Alec's chest bare. His skin was very white, marked here and there with old translucent scars. There were other injuries there too: a darkening lattice of claw marks, each hole red and oozing. A wave of bile rose up to her mouth.
"Jace?" She called, as calmly as possible. "A parabatai's healing rune is more effective."
Jace almost fell down the stairs, which made her blink. The only time she'd seen her ungraceful. She stood up with a wince and moved away to give him space.
She looked at Simon. "You might just be my favorite mundane, Lewis," He had the grace to turn red.
Jaw set, Jace set the stele to Alec's skin, moving it back and forth with the ease of long practice. But there was something wrong. Even as he drew the healing marks, they seemed to vanish as if he were writing on water.
Jace threw the stele aside. "Damn it."
Isabelle's voice was shrill. "What's going on?"
"It cut him with its talons," Jace said. "There's demon poison in him. The Marks can't work." He touched Alec's face again, gently. "Alec," he said. "Can you hear me?"
Alec didn't move. The shadows under his eyes looked blue and as dark as bruises. If it weren't for his breathing, Clary would have thought he was already dead.
Isabelle bent her head, her hair covering Alec's face. Her arms were around him. "Maybe," she whispered, "we could—"
"He needs Hodge. The Silent Brothers. Even a warlock." Allison said. "Get him on the van. Now."
~~~~~
The Institute was shrouded with silence. Every noise seemed to be walloped up by the darkness of the Institute corridors. The Institute's cat, Chruch, deemed it time to start yowling like a foghorn.
"Stupid cat," Isabelle muttered, arranging a silver tray with scalpels and liquids Hodge might require. The tutor was bent over Alec, who was motionless on one of the white beds. Allison could only sit on the bed beside him. She did her best to help Hodge, suggesting some antidotes that might work against the poison. But they both knew those wouldn't work effectively against the poison of a Greater Demon.
"I'm heading to the library," Hodge said at last, and turned to Allison, "Drink this." He handed her a vial of teal liquid. Allison observed with inquisition. "Why?"
"It'll...just drink it. It'll heal your wounds." Hodge said. "Please."
Allison was taken aback. The concern in his eyes... made her nod. And he waited. For her to drink. "You give this to Isabelle. She took a bad hit as well."
"I'll get her some from the Library,"
Her back was still aching. Maybe this new concoction would help her. With a sigh, she tossed back the vial, the strong and sour drink made her choke. But she downed the content. "Happy?"
Something in his expression didn't settle right.
"Is everything okay, Hodge?"
Hodge shook his head and stepped out of the infirmary. "Stay away from the library for a while. Stay with Isabelle."
Allison could only stare as he left.
"He's like that," Isabelle said, turning towards a low table, and getting some bandages. "When he's tensed—" The silver trayed crashed to the floor.
Isabelle cursed. She dropped to the floor and started to pick up the gauze and plasters. Her hands were shaking.
"Isabelle—" Allison started, moving towards her, though her head felt dizzy.
"It's Izzy, for fuck's sake!" Isabelle snapped, though tears streamed down her face.
"Okay, Izzy," Allison relented. "I just thought it was a pet name used by people you like,"
"You're on thin ice, Graymark," Isabelle glared, and she gathered all the strewn supplies. "By the Angel, you think everyone hates you but you act as everyone adores you. No wonder you and Jace never get along."
"I'm getting mixed signals here, Izzy,"
"Well, I tolerate you. And you did save everyone's ass." Her eyes went to Alec, "You better save my brother's as well. "
Allison's throat constricted.
She hated it. That someone depended on her to do some miracle. Her mother had depended on her secure her inheritance. Imogen had depended on her to become an Investigator. Miracles. Miracles. Miracles. You were a miracle, Allison. You shouldn't have been born. You survived the Brocelind wolves, Allison, you are a miracle. God, she was tired of that word. Why couldn't she have a miracle for herself?
"Allison?" She heard Izzy call, though it was distant.
"What—" Her tongue failed to function. The words that rolled out of her mouth became gibberish.
The concoction.
Hodge.
Isabelle loomed before her face, her dark eyes in panic. Allison tried to form words, but the effect of the...poison? She wasn't sure. She just felt sleepy. A sleeping draught then. Why? There was no reason to fight the lull of sleep. Allison had no choice but to give in.
In the distance, the library stank with the smell of betrayal.
~~~~~
Imogen Herondale, the Inquisitor of the Clave, stood outside the room in the Silent City.
The Bone City, inhabited by the Silent Brothers, was a place Nephilim avoided as much as possible. The dead were buried here. The accused were punished here. The sinners were cleansed here. An eerie place, indeed.
Step in, Inquisitor. Brother Zachariah's voice entered her mind.
The small yet secluded room was lit by four candles in each direction. There was a bed in the corner, with a table and two steel chairs in the other corner. Among the bone-colored sheet laid Imogen's grandmother.
She looked like a young girl, more than ever. Imogen knew she never had a chance at childhood. To Nephilim's standards, that is. Allison seemed to be sleeping. Contently. As if she needed this peaceful sleep.
To our fortune, Magnus Bane alerted me about her state while healing Alec Lightwood. Brother Zachariah, from the corner of the room, informed.
"I'll send the Downworlder compensation,"
You understand that Magnus cares about the Herondale as much as I do, don't you, Imogen?
"What was the sleeping draught made of?" Imogen sat on the edge of the bed, brushing off a lock of hair that fell on Allison's calm face.
A rare herb the Unseelie Fae use. Easily treatable for shadowhunters. Except, Allison is a unique one.
Imogen snapped her eyes towards him. "Her...condition accelerated the draught's effective."
It appears so. And Hodge Starkweather must've been aware of it.
"My granddaughter knows better than to blurt out such information," scoffed Imogen.
I'm aware. Yet... Mr.Starkweather's betrayal, made me wonder.
It took a second for Imogen to catch on to Brother Zachariah's implications. "That is not possible!" Imogen stood up straight. Allison shifted in her sleep. "Starkweather might've had no prior—"
Starkweather has always been Valentine's follower, Inquisitor. He might've acted as Valentine's eyes the entire time. Especially to take care of the Wayland boy, who had all along been Jonathan Morgernstern.
"You think Valentine is the reason for Allison's control over Heavenly Fire?" Imogen asked, walking towards him, then stopped mid-way. There was a possibility. "By the Angel...I have no idea what Amatis did the first five years." Her gaze went to Allison again. "I remember the first time I visited them. Everyone told me the reason my granddaughter was hidden away was that she was a weakling. That Amatis was ashamed. But she was the brightest little child I had ever seen. So much like my son—smart, quick-witted, and charming. Yet, she was neglected. And starved for care. Amatis was there, but she wasn't." She caught herself. Now was not the time.
Allison would be awake in an hour, Brother Zachariah said after a minute of silence. I do suggest you start to find out why Allison could summon Heavenly Fire.
Imogen found herself beside her granddaughter again. "I will do that."
This was a second chance. To finish what started with her son, Stephen's death. Imogen would not allow her daughter to become another pawn in Valentine Morgernstern's game with the Mortal Instruments, now that he acquired the Mortal Cup.
Imogen Herondale would end this once and for all.
Word Count - 3090
A/N -
That's a wrap for Part One! The City of Bones plotline is more like a prologue. Part Two is where the fun starts. I'll update as soon as possible!
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