Sera tucked the white sheet more securely across her breasts and pushed her left hand back through her hair, silken curls tumbling back haphazardly as she drew up her right leg to help brace herself against the headboard. Rayce felt his mouth go dry, and Sera shook her head again.
"This isn't going to work very well if you can't stay coherent, Rayce."
She pressed her right palm against her left shoulder, and he had a quick glimpse of a glamour rune as she let her hand slide back down. Like water rippling from a stream, a new face slipped over her own, her hair darkening to a rich chocolate colour now, her golden eyes fading to a warm grey.
Rayce blinked at the transformation.
"I know," Sera said. "I hardly know where to begin, so I guess that's a pretty good start." She cleared her throat and played with the edge of the sheet in her lap.
"As you probably figured out last night, I am a Shadowhunter. I'm just a bit different than the ones you learned about." She looked uncomfortable as she spoke, and Rayce could feel the nervous energy in her posture.
"Seraphine told me it's because of the blood that runs in your veins, like how I'm different, too. What-, um, not that I-" Rayce broke off helplessly.
"It's okay, you can say it. What am I?" She laughed and a bit of the tension broke.
She took a deep breath, straining the sheet a bit Rayce noticed guiltily, and began to tell her story.
Springtime had come to Alicante at last in 2010 after a long, harsh winter. Restorations to buildings damaged or destroyed during the Dark War were still underway, Unseelie artisans working day and night to complete their contracts. The Cold Peace had exacted a heavy price from the Fey of both Courts, and some had whispered that perhaps it had been too harsh. A world without the Faeries was a world left unbalanced. But the voices were too few and too quiet to be heard over the grief of those who had lost loved ones to Sebastian Morgenstern's Endarkened and his Faerie allies.
The Glass City had never before been a home to so many orphans, and emergency measures had been taken to assure their safety and care. They would attend the Shadowhunter Academy when they were old enough, but there were still so many who were too young. The call had gone out to interested Shadowhunters to return to Alicante and help raise and protect the next generation of Nephilim.
Meridian Chasewell had answered that call eagerly, and in less than a week she was working with two other women in an orphanage stuffed with nearly twenty children left homeless and without guardians by the attacks. There was always an endless amount of work to be done, but Meridian and her new sisters were inspired by their charges, so the days had become months, and by now they had been together for over two years in the great canal-side home abandoned during the Dark War and seized by the Clave.
It was a clear, spring day when Meridian took several of her younger children to a park down by the canal. Clave officials had come that morning to scoop up some of the older children, though they were barely nine years old. The men had apologized, but reminded her that the world was in desperate need of Shadowhunters, and the sooner the children could begin training, the better. The children would be placed with Institutes and families all over the world so that they would not need to wait until they were 12 to begin at the Academy.
Meri's heart had broken again, as it had each time another of the children was taken. She knew she should be happy for them to find families, but they were hers. She had awoken in the night to soothe their nightmares, she had kissed the bumps and scrapes that came with being a child in a house filled with so many. And now the Clave had come again to take her babes.
The sun shone down brightly on her pale blond hair as she watched the children at play, their shrieks of delight a balm for her broken heart. They were so precious. They had survived the worst disaster to ever strike at the City of Glass, and still they could laugh and love and play.
One of the little girls ran up to her, breathless, and proudly presented her with a bouquet of dandelions. Meri's smile spread across her face like its own ray of sunshine and she reached out to gather the girl into a hug, pulling her up into her arms protectively. The girl nuzzled into her neck, tangling her fingers in the long pale strands, and Meri tilted her cheek down to press against the girl's head.
A very strange feeling swept over her, strong enough to make her open her eyes to search out the source.
A man was standing at the edge of the canal and was looking up at her with such an expression of yearning that she was taken aback. Unconsciously, she held the girl a bit tighter, and her eyes flicked to the others to make sure they were safe and close. He strode forward up the gentle rise of the embankment straight toward her, shoulder-length black hair blowing back from his strong face. When he was just a few feet away he stopped, silent.
"What do you want, stranger?" Meri asked, no longer frightened. His deep-blue eyes were kind, and now that he was closer, she felt oddly safe. There was no threat in this man.
"I do not have an answer to that question, but I think that I may find it with you, Meridian Chasewell," he answered.
She didn't understand – surely she would have remembered meeting him before. She started to shake her head, to ask how he had known her name, but the little girl in her arms had twisted around and reached out to the man.
He stepped forward and stretched out his arms to take her from Meri, his eyes steady and reassuring as they held hers. The little girl threw her arms around his neck and snuggled into his broad chest, completely trusting of a total stranger.
"Who are you?" Meri asked in a whisper.
A sad smile touched his lips before he answered simply, "Ahren Castledown."
It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world for them to gather up the children and walk back to the orphanage together. Meri was absolutely enchanted by him, dazed when he had pressed a kiss to her hand in parting.
Ahren had visited the orphanage nearly every day after that. He worked tirelessly around the big house, fixing small things and helping the women with the washing and cooking. He laughed with them and they fell under his spell as well, unable to resist his easy charm and sincere kindness. The children fell in love with him at once, and Meri had laughed until her sides hurt to see them throwing themselves at him in the yard, bowling him over until it was a thoroughly unfair 7-on-1 wrestling match.
It was the nights that she lived for, though, when he would return to knock softly on the window of her tiny bedroom after everyone else had gone to sleep. She would lose herself in his touch for hours, breathing in the scent of his body and thinking to herself that this must be what Heaven was like.
That summer had been magical, but Meri's uneasy fear grew as slowly and steadily inside her as the new life that had begun there. The heat from the day hadn't yet faded when Ahren knocked softly on her window and she opened it.
His mouth was soft, but urgent as it sought hers, and it took all of her strength to turn her head. "Ahren, please. There's something I need to tell you."
His deep-blue eyes looked down at her and she took his hand from her waist to press it to her abdomen, smiling, her own eyes telling him her secret in an instant.
Confusion spread over his face and then fear – not the reactions she had hoped for.
"What's wrong? I thought you would be happy," she whispered, her own fear now mounting as the thought of him leaving her began to take hold.
"I never thought... I didn't think it would be possible, " he breathed.
Meri covered her mouth, still trying to keep a hold on the panic that was beginning to spread. Ahren could feel the tension in her body and he reached up to take her arms and steady her. "It's okay, Meri, I'm just... there's something I need to tell you, as well."
He stepped back and turned up the flame on her lamp.
"I should have told you sooner, but I couldn't bear to lose you. I only hope that you can forgive me."
He closed his eyes, and at first, Meridian couldn't understand what was happening. His entire image was shimmering, rippling, fading away like... a glamour. A wild tousle of shining hair replaced black, and the fire shimmered over gold-tinged skin. She fell backwards in shock as he opened his golden eyes, and he darted forward, kneeling at her feet.
"Meri, I never meant to deceive you with ill-intent. Once, I was of Heaven, but I could not return, and was instead sent back to live a mortal life. The blood of Heaven runs in my veins, but I have lost its grace and blessing in this life."
Meri was staggered. "You... you're a... an angel?"
He bowed his head to her.
"Then... this..." Her hand fluttered protectively over her belly. "What will it mean for our child?"
Ahren shook his head. "I don't know, my love."
Meri struggled to control her breathing as she considered the implications. Her thoughts raced for some reference point, anything, and she grasped at the memory of the heroes of the Dark War, Jace Herondale and Clary Fairchild. Each had been altered with the blood of an angel by Valentine Morgenstern. Meri felt sick when she envisioned what the Clave would do with a half-Angel child. Warlocks would be summoned from the Spiral Labyrinth to study it, surely, and the monstrous Silent Brothers would be exceedingly interested. Her mind raced ahead to her child's gifts being harnessed for the Clave's use, a weapon to direct as they saw fit. Her child would never be free to live their life without interference from the Clave, she was certain of it.
Her hands shot forward and she clutched at Ahren's shirtfront, pulling him forward with a strength that surprised her. "We have to leave. I won't let the Clave have our baby."
Ahren started to protest but she was gripped by her fear and certainty, and her hands shook as she cut him off. "No. I want you to swear by the love you have for me that the Clave will never find us."
What else could he do but agree? Meri would not hear any argument, and plans were laid to shake free of the Clave. A false letter was written from friends in Canada, far from Idris – could Meri come for a visit?
It was easy to lie to the two women she had shared a home with for two and a half years. She packed her trunk, surreptitiously laying the Chasewell family heirlooms in the bottom and covering them with clothes. She could sell a few to buy a fresh start. It was easy to leave the Glass City and travel to the border, meeting up with Ahren there and then crossing into France to catch a flight across the ocean.
The false letter had at least held one grain of truth – she did have a friend in Canada. Seraphine Lark would help her go into hiding, she was sure of it.
She and Ahren picked a place north of the city that was nestled deep in the woods, just on the edge of a lake, far from any roads, and began building a small cottage there. Seraphine's help had been invaluable.
A week after arriving in the country, the cat-eared warlock had helped Meri stage a demon attack in they city, and then reported the sad news to the Clave that one of their own had been tragically lost in battle. Seraphine had taken an urn of ashes to the City of Glass, where it had been laid to rest in the Chasewell family crypt. She had never asked why her friend had needed this peculiar favour, and she never asked about the sad-eyed man who helped build the cottage.
Before the first snows had come, Meri and Ahren were snug in their new home, safe from the Clave, and her abdomen swelled with each passing week, making her eyes shine with joy.
But Ahren became increasingly withdrawn. He would lapse into silence for days, and vanish into the woods for long spells that worried Meri. He told her that he missed Alicante, that it had been easier for him to bear his loss of grace when he had still been surrounded by the children of Raziel.
"But what about our child?" She had asked him, pressing his hand over her heart. "What about me?"
He never answered when she asked him that, and he sank deeper into a depression that she could not break. He stopped coming for meals, spending longer and longer in the woods or walking around the edge of the lake.
Meri refused to despair, certain that when their child was born, he would love her again.
It was deep in the heart of winter, when the trees were so frozen that she would hear their limbs crack under the weight of ice some nights, that she woke from a troubled sleep. A fire burned low in the grate, and Ahren lay on the couch, hand trailing down to the floor.
"Ahren?" she called, tying her robe over her swollen belly.
His eyes fluttered and her heart lurched with relief, her unspoken fear loosening it's hold.
"I'm so sorry, Meri," he whispered in the dying light. "I've done everything wrong."
"No, no you haven't," she said desperately as she knelt at his side, pressing a finger to his lips to hold back his words. She touched her hand to her belly. "This isn't wrong, Ahren."
His head slumped forward, and she watched as his appearance rippled as it had on that fateful summer's eve. An angel laid on the couch in his place, weeping.
"I've loved mortals for so long, but I never really understood them. Their hearts were so fragile, and still they raced to give them away. But my heart was never mine to give. I thought..." he gasped and clutched at his chest, hand spasming, pain in his eyes.
"My Meri... I cannot live without the light of Heaven, though I have tried. You were... the best of me... Please forgive me." His eyes pleaded with her and tears ran down both of their faces. She threw herself across his chest and sobbed, her fingers twisting into his hair to hold onto more of him, as if she could will him to stay.
She pulled back, tear-streaked face shining, and she pressed her lips to his, desperately seeking a spark of their love, but his lips did not respond to hers. His last breath escaped and he passed from the mortal life that he had been given to atone for his sin.
Meridian sobbed and clutched at his shoulders, clinging to his body as she shook her head in denial. He was gone.
She felt the baby kick inside her, perhaps sensing its mother's distress, and she rocked back, running her hands soothingly over her belly.
"I'll never let anything hurt you, baby. I'll keep you safe."
Sera exhaled shakily, watching Rayce across from her in the armchair. Tears sparkled in his eyes but did not fall. She sniffed and cleared her throat, her emotions getting the better of her for a change.
"So now you know what I am. My mother kept me away from everyone, and kept everyone away from me. I had never left the lake before she died. But she couldn't keep my dreams out."
Rayce shifted, readjusting to a more comfortable position. He thought of the similarities in their upbringings, protected by their mothers, but he found himself deeply grateful to have had Zeke, Arynessa, and Baelerithon. How much lonelier would he have been without them? Could he have survived as Sera had?
Sera continued, "I started dreaming about you almost from the start, though I didn't know anything about you back then. I was 11 when it happened – a dream with extraordinary clarity. A gathering of the Fey, a tournament of champions, and a small Faerie knight dressed head-to-toe in black leather wielding a double-bladed staff. When our eyes met, it was like you saw me. And I saw you too, Rayce. I felt a bone-deep connection grow that night without knowing why.
"The years continued to pass and I got better and better with my gift. I tried to see you. I know now that the magic of the Land Under the Hill prevents me from looking in, but wherever you were, you were acting like a focus for my sight. It was like looking through a telescope– I could only see what was right there. And all the while, this heavy sense of duty lay across my dreams. I was 16 the first time I saw your mother killed, and what happened to you after. That's when I finally understood. I needed to use my gift to save you from that end.
"I was still trapped with my mother, though. It wasn't long after that I saw my own mother's death – a fall from an embankment, an accident while she was out gathering firewood. I could have warned her, watched for signs that the day was near and then kept her inside, but I didn't." Sera's voice had dropped to a whisper.
"I let her die, Rayce. There was no way she was ever going to let me go." Her shoulders were shaking now, and Rayce stood quickly. He went to the edge of the bed and laid back carefully next to her, curling his right arm around her hesitantly, unsure if he was welcome to intrude on her sorrow. Sera buried her face in his chest and a curtain of chocolate-coloured hair fell forward to hide her face. He said nothing, just held her until she stilled and her breathing evened.
She pulled back and scrubbed the back of her hand across both cheeks. "God, I'm so sorry. I really didn't want to fall apart like that," she paused and then hiccuped. "I'm starving."
Rayce rose from the bed as Sera swung her legs over the other side. She stood up, sheet still wrapped around her body, and she gave him a meaningful stare. He swiftly turned around to look out the window where the sun had risen further in the sky. Runners dotted the pathway by the water far below. He studied them while he waited for Sera to finish dressing, trying very hard not to see her reflected silhouette in the glass.
"Alright, I'm decent," she said, opening the bedroom door and heading through toward the kitchen. Rayce exhaled slowly.
Seraphine was still awake, newspaper discarded. She was watching a video on a clear glass tablet and frowning, but looked up when they entered.
"You owe me a new duvet, little miss I-forgot-how-to-work-the-washing-machine."
Sera laughed and went to the hall closet, returning with an identical duvet in a clear plastic bag. "I kind of thought I would, so I picked this up just in case."
"Hrmph. If you're quite finished in my bedroom, it's past time for me to get some sleep. I get the feeling I'm going to be busy later." She excused herself and they heard the bedroom door close softly down the hall.
Sera opened the fridge, pulling out an assortment of things while Rayce watched with interest.
"May I ask about the rune thing?" He ventured as she picked out a pair of frying pans from one of the cupboards.
"Right. The rune thing." She turned on the stove element under the larger pan. "Are you familiar with a Shadowhunter named Clary Herondale?"
"Yes, of course. My aunt. Baelerithon has told me the stories of the time before the Dark War when she first learned of her abilities."
"Good. That makes it easier. Like her, I can boost the potency of some runes, although that seems to come very easily to me. I blame it on my Heavenly constitution," she snickered, laying strips of meat into the pan. "But unlike her, I have never needed a stele to lay runes."
Rayce's eyebrows shot up. "Why not?"
"Have you ever seen an angel grab a stele out of their pants pocket? In fact, do angels even wear pants? The language of Heaven is in my blood, and it's as natural to me as your shifting."
"But you don't have any scars. I, um, couldn't help noticing."
She lifted an eyebrow as her lips twisted up. "I'm sure you could have." The meat in the pan started sizzling and she poked at it with a fork, separating the slices, and when she was satisfied, she started grating a bit of cheddar cheese.
"Did you know that steles and seraph blades are both made out of adamas?" she asked, leaning over to turn on the heat under the smaller pan.
"Yes, of course, every Shadowhunter knows that..." he trailed off, wondering what sort of trap he was falling into.
"Then why would you be surprised that runes carved into your flesh with tiny seraph blades would leave scars? I don't use a stele, so I don't end up with the scars." She started dicing up a hunk of spinach leaves. "You'll notice that neither the mendelin, nor the amissio and iratzes that I put on you last night left any scars."
"When did you put a mendelin on me?" He asked, thinking back.
"Before we stole the jet ski. You had to wonder why the Mundanes couldn't see us. Just a brush on your forearm – you didn't even notice."
He shook his head as she cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them vigorously. She added in the cheese and spinach and then dropped a dollop of butter in the pan. It was melting when Rayce thought of another question.
"Why do you glamour yourself, Sera? Is it just so that people can think straight when they're talking to you?"
Her smile froze for a moment as she poured the egg mixture into the pan, her back to him. "Yep. You got it." The kitchen was filled with the smell of whatever sort of meat was frying, and now the aromas of cooking eggs, cheddar, and spinach wafted up. Rayce had no right to be hungry again already, but he felt his stomach growl.
"Hungry?"
The slightly pointed tips of his ears flushed red and he looked down. "I've eaten."
"Mmm hmm," she murmured knowingly.
Sera had soon plated a pair of omelets and added a generous side of maple-flavoured bacon, setting a plate down in front of Rayce before going to the fridge to pour them some orange juice.
"This looks amazing," he complimented her.
"The good news is that it tastes amazing, too."
She sat down and cut a piece of the omelet off with her fork. She sighed deeply when she popped it in her mouth and relaxed backwards into the bar stool.
Rayce polished off the omelet in record time and then eyed the meat carefully. "What is this?"
Sera looked shocked. "It's bacon. Food of the gods."
He looked thoughtful. Bacon. He would do it, for Zeke. He took a cautious bite and felt his eyes widen before stuffing the rest of the piece in his mouth. Oh, Zeke. I never understood what you gave up to live with us. I'm so sorry.
They polished off what was left of the bacon and then Rayce rose to clear away the dishes. Sera watched him curiously. Well, that's a bonus.
While he was washing their plates, he looked up at her, sleeves rolled up neatly to stay dry. "So what do we do now?"
"That's really up to you."
"You can't... see... what we're supposed to do next?"
Sera shook her head. "Don't think about it like that, Rayce. Everyone has a choice. Free will. I'll use my gifts to help you in any way that I can, but I won't determine your path for you."
He thought about that as he scrubbed the bacon pan. What did he want?
"My family. Zeke, Arynessa, and Baelerithon. I have to know what happened to them. Can you... look... for them?" He turned the pan over into the drying rack.
"No. Without you in the Courts to give me a way in, I can't see what's happening there. But I can still find out." She pushed back her bar stool and stood.
"How?"
"I have friends in low places and a lot of money with which to bribe them. If I leave now I can probably be back before dark."
"You mean we can be back before dark, right?" He folded his arms across his chest.
"No, I definitely meant I. I invested a lot of time and effort into getting you away from the Courts and into hiding, and I'm not going to expose you to the seediest people I know who literally sell information for a living. You'll stay here. Seraphine is really quite lovely when she's had some sleep."
Rayce couldn't argue with her logic. Sera swept her hand at the bookcases set against the wall of the sitting room. "She also has excellent taste in books. Help yourself."
She pulled on her black boots over her jeans and Rayce plucked up the leather jacket, holding it out for her to slip into. She shook her brown hair out over the collar and tucked her keys into an inside pocket of the coat with a small smile on her lips.
"I'll see what I can find out. Don't worry if I'm late getting back – I'm pretty good at taking care of myself." She pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, closing it gently behind her.
Rayce turned the lock and then leaned his forehead against the door.
I will worry.