The Mortal Instruments

Hendrik easily kept up with Rhett as they went from rooftop to rooftop the wolf's excellent sense of smell leading the way. Then at the edge of a rooftop Rhett stopped and had jumped down. Hendrik followed his example, not the greatest idea he had ever had as pain shot up his legs as he landed and the expression on his face turned into one of discomfort for a moment. Rhett went back and forth through the alley until stopping at something. A door. "We got you now you son of a *****..." Hendrik muttered

He nodded to Rhett as he carefully touched the door handle, the door had been left unlocked either this guy was outright cocky or he wasn't there anymore. He opened the door, drew his Seraphim blade and spoke it's holy name out loud "Azrael" while in his free hand he held a witchlight as he walked into the building. It was quite dark so the Witchlight was a blessing, funny how the criminals thought that the darkness could protect them from the divine light of justice. He soon came upon a room that contained the heads of his victims. Hendrik ignored the grissly trophy gallery and searched the entire place to no avail. Masque was gone, he looked to Rhett "He's gone... you able to find any other trail?" He asked the wolf, so close only to slip away once more. Damn it.

Then a voice rang out, it spoke clearly of the Mortal Cup, and how this person was in the possesion of it. The Cup was used to create the first Nephilim and could be used to create more, but in the wrong hands... And only one was still remaining? Which one was it? The mirror or the Sword? He was unaware which were still in their possesion, but this was pretty bad. It had gone from bad to a complete charlie foxtrot. All downworlders were encouraged to rise up to the Nephilim, he looked at Rhett "Don't even think about it...." He said, glaring at the wolf "This seems like a dead end to me and furthermore something more important just popped up, if you want to tag along, tag along and if you don't then I guess our partnership ends here, which would be a shame now wouldn't it?" Hendrik walked out of the building again, resheated the blade and went on his way toward the Institute, he could have taken a cab or anything but he wanted to walk.

 

​

Brianne went to Roxanne's side, gently rubbing the girl's back with one hand as she stroked the girl's hair away from her face. "You're going to have to reveal that wound." She told Roxanne, before motioning to Nick. "You did good kid, but you're going to have to do more. Put a healing rune on her, a good one. Should stop the bleeding and only leave a scar. Do that and I'll be impressed." She told him as she continued to try and soothe Roxanne with her touch. It was something her mother had done for her, after nightmares and panic attacks. Attacks that had never completely gone away. She sighed and handed Nick her stele. "Here, mine's older, seen more. It'll be more trustworthy.

​

Morrigan gasped, curling in on herself to try and stop the pain. "If you knew it was coming, you should have dodged it, dumb*ass." She whispered as she tried to suck more air into her lungs. Then he was gone, demanding she stay where she was. Like hell. She got to her hands, then her knees. Her legs had gone numb, and she highly doubted she would get far on them anyway. No matter how pride rending it was, she began to crawl towards the woods. Even if no one on two legs was nearby, there were some four legged ones she could reach to for help. She just had to be far enough away from Masque; she didn't want them suffering for her. One step at a time, inch by inch she slowly made her way towards the woods.

 

Jenny's pov:



Jennifer 'Jenny' Shag sat in the room with a angry look on her face. She could not believe that this person called her to this place just for the Mortal Instruments. She was about to leave when someone bust open the door. 'Sir sorry to bother you...' She could not believe this a person was interrupting there meeting. 'Go on.' 'Sir there has been an accident at the Pandemonium. Someone has been shot a fairy we believe. There was also the appearance of several Shadowhunters said to be there.' "This is nothing new the place always has Shadowhunters, fairies, and a safe haven for all race. Now the shooting is surprising, but it was bond to happen at some point." 'You should go when Shadowhunters are involed there is bond to be something more interesting around the corner.' "Were you involved in this shooting somehow? Is this why you called me here to get me to go on some crazy adventure?" 'No I would never to that, but you never do anything other then check on your shops.' "Whatever you wased enough of my time already. This maybe on of your plans to get me to do something. That said this is an interesting development. I walked by the Pandemonium earlier today and it seemed to be in all terms a normal evening." That was when unknown voice said something odd. 'You have cowered from the Nephilim for so long, allowing them to govern you, to kill you. Now.... now they will cower from me. For I have taken the Mortal Cup' 'Before you ask I also did not have anything to do with this Mortal cup' "I guess I will be going." With that done she left the building and was back onto the street. The Nephilim may want something or may not for this but whatever was going to happen was going to be interesting.

OOC: sorry for taking so long to post but midterms are this week and next

 

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She wasn't going to make it. The poison was accelerating too quickly, causing pain in some parts of her body and numbing in others. Her stiffening fingers fumbled as she reached for her sword, determined to end this her way. She wouldn't serve as entertainment for Masque, or whoever else decided to watch this sick farce. Not that she could think of many people who wanted her dead, but Morrigan was sure there were enough. She wouldn't give any of them the satisfaction. She still had her pride, and it was her life at the end of the day.

Ash's face flashed in front of her eyes, and she couldn't help but smile, followed by a few crystalline tears. "Still mine to the end." She whispered, before cursing as her fingers slipped on the naked blade, slicing open her palm. Hand slippery with blood, she cradled her hand to her chest before making another grab for the sword. Her hand slipped over the blades of grass as she scrabbled, trying to reach her weapon before she was stopped, by her own body or other forces. Something was sticking to her palm, and she tried to shake it, annoyed, before pulling her arm to her body, desperate to get the thing, whatever it was, off.

Oh. Ash's business card was stuck to her bleeding palm, the color of the card tinged with the crimson of her life. She gently peeled it off, before reaching a third time for the sword. The charm. She smiled grimly as her fingers closed over the hilt, and slowly, painfully, dragged the sword towards her. She couldn't sit up anymore, her legs had long abandoned her. Instead, she curled on her side, laying the blade of the sword over the vein in her throat. Just one push, and it would be over. She closed her eyes, letting a single last tear soak her skin. By the Goddess, I'm sorry. To whom she was apologizing, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was that her life had been short, for a fairy's. Maybe because it had been wasted. Maybe because she had lost her single chance to take revenge for her family. Maybe maybe maybe. Just do it. She coached herself, squeezing her eyes tightly. Just do it.

 

Nick graciously took Brianne's stele and began to apply a healing rune on Roxanne, with difficulty "So, uh, what are we going to do about this "mortal cup" thing? Sounds important" Nicholas asked. He traced out the healing rune carefully, nervous about getting it done well "Uh, is that okay? Sorry if it's a bit bad"

Masque hissed with hatred as the fairy's suicide was interrupted by a newcomer. She was on the verge of becoming a masterpiece, such defiance broken down by his poison, to the point where she decided she would take her life on her own terms. It would have been beautiful "Rabid dog? That implies my killings are not co-ordinated, that implies my killings are messy. My killings are artwork. We shall meet again Warlock, and when we do, I shall make you perfect" Masque called out from the bush. Before leaving and wandering further into the woods.

 

​

Brianne watched Nick's work with a critical eye, and then nodded. "You need practice, but it's good. She'll stop feeling pain, but we can't wait for it to do it's work. We need to go." She grabbed Roxanne's arm, albeit gently, and draped it over her own shoulders, taking the brunt of the girl's weight. "You stay ahead, and make sure the path is clear. Hopefully we don't run into real trouble until the rune is finished." She rubbed Roxanne's back with a little difficulty one last time. "I got you." She told the girl, before pulling her out the door. "The Mortal Cup is a sacred relic that the Angel Raziel created. He cut open one of his own veins, and poured the most angelic blood this world has ever seen into the cup, giving it to some of us more mortal Nephilim. Our ancestors drank from the cup, and thus the first Shadow hunters were created." She readjusted her grip on Roxanne as they began to descend the stairwell, her ears and eyes wary for any sign of trouble.

"Besides being an ancient item, and extremely important to our race because of its history, the Mortal Cup still retains extremely powerful magic. In times of desperation, it could be used to create new Shadowhunters from humans, or cause Downworlders to become our slaves. If a demon drank well...it would be bad." Brianne finished her explanation to Nick, stepping out into the cold night. "So if the Mortal Cup really is gone, then we need to find whoever took it before they create a personal army. And even if it isn't gone..." She paused. "Well we just became the most wanted people in New York City. Can you stand?" She asked Roxanne.

Not that she didn't trust Nick's abilities, but he was still green. She wanted to be ready just in case everything really went to shit.

​

Morrigan stiffened as Masque's voice rang out in the clearing. "He's here. Kill him." She whispered to Ash, struggling to breath as the poison began to work on her chest, numbing and paralyzing the muscles that were so desperately needed to keep her alive. "I don't matter. I won't matter. He won't stop until he's gone. Please." She whispered, her vision darkening as she felt arms around her. At least I can go peacefully. She told herself. But she had thought too soon, and pain wracked her body as her muscles cramped and knotted, terrible pain that felt as though she was being stabbed by thousands of knives at the same time. The worst of it was that she was paralyzed and unable to move, alone in the black of her slowly receding conscious mind.

 

Hendrik was wandering the streets of New York, wanting to go home travelling the more quiet parts of the city. He had no need to worry about the dangers of wandering through alleys, he was a Nephilim and a skilled one at that. Turning into one of the alley he noticed that he was followed by two people. Hendrik took note of it and just walked on. Then when nearing the end of it two other people closed off the other end of the alleyway. Hendrik walked over when one held out his hand to stop him. "You ain't going anywhere, Nephilim." One lad with neatly combed back black hair said. Hendrik just looked at him wanting to push past, the two behind him caught up which left Hendrik surrounded, the Nephilim sighed. "I really don't have time for this..." The young lad just laughed at him "Can you believe this guy?" His companions joined in. Then from behind one of the people snaked an arm around his throat and that same young man smiled "Too bad, Nephilim, you'll die here." And with that he saw them for what they really are.

The young man's fangs went for his neck, Hendrik's hand quickly went for his Seraphim blade and he shout out it's divine name, the glowing blade extending from the hilt. He elbowed the man that was holding him just below the ribs and used the moment to twist out of the grip. The boy however was still upon him and Hendrik lost his balance and fell onto the ground, the boy digging his claws into his shoulders. Hendrik roared out in pain and just brought the blade up digging it into the Vampire's side whose grip only tightened, Hendrik simply kept on pushing the blade further and further into the vampire's side until the young man let go of him and dropped to the ground writhing next to him. The other three didn't wait for Hendrik to get back up as once more one snaked the arm around his neck and pulled him to his feet. His bow and quiver dropping to the ground. Hendrik grunted, blood seeping from the deep wounds the claws left. He tried once more to get himself free from the grip of his oppenent only to fail.

Hendrik started to see black spots sneak into his vision as in front of him another one of the vampires was preparing to sink his teeth into his neck and he could feel them as the claws dug into his sides and Hendrik screamed it out in blind rage, he didn't get his ass thrown out of Idris over his actions to die in an alley because the Clave couldn't even keep a cursed cup safe. He brought up the Seraphim blade into the gut of the Vampire that has draining some of his blood. Then he jumped up, pulled up his legs to his chest causing his entire weight to be forced to be held up by the Vampire trying to hold him. Hendrik slid between legs of the one cutting the back of the knees of the one and kicking him forward as he dropped onto his knees Hendrik Drove the blade through his spine. The last one leaped at him fangs bared and claws extended, the claws dug into the lower arm of his free hand, causing Hendrik to howl in pain even more as he drove the blade into the vampire's gut and twisted it. Following up by kicking the vampire off the blade. He roared at the skies in defiance, he collected the fallen bow and quiver. Driving one of the hallowed arrows into each and every single one of the Vampire's hearts and then stumbling on purely on the force of his anger.

It wasn't too far now, he had drawn a simple healing rune with his stele but he knew it wouldn't do too much for him with all the wounds and blood he was still losing. He had torn some pieces of cloth to try and bandage up the wounds a little bit, but he only half-assed it. This was the price he paid for being too damn stubborn to take a cab. He reached the Institute as he was on the edge of his strength, feeling his mind float free. This was it then wasn't it? Death was on the doorstep waiting to knock. He opened the door to the Institute and entered the elevator, pressing the button. He felt himself slide back against the wall and down onto the floor. The deep gashes on his lower arms and sides still slowly bleeding. The clear marks of a vampire's bit on his neck. Numerous smaller scratches he hadn't even noticed he had received in his blind rage and the deep rents in his shoulders that stained his blackened Nephilim armour all becoming too much as he felt himself slip into the darkness.

 

Nick listened quietly and nodded "I see. So it's a big deal" he surmised "What if it's all a trick to get the downworlders to fight us? We should go check if the cup is still there" he suggested.

 

​

Satisfied that Roxanne would be alright, Brianne turned back to Nick. "It's not here. It's in Alicante. And we aren't allowed to travel to the City of Glass without sanction." She started down the street at a jog, not waiting for the other two to follow. "I'll connect with one of the Elders when we get back. They should able to tell me."
She prayed to the Angel for a swift course back to the Institute, and her prayers were answered. They managed to make it back to the glamoured haven, glamoured as a ruined church. Brianne put her fingers on the barrier, and gently whispered the words of undoing. As the glamour fell, she walked inside, the corners of her eyes tight with anxiety.

Nick did have a point, and she hoped he was right. If it was simply a ploy for Downworlders, that was a much less horrific scenario then if a Downworlder had actually taken the Mortal Cup. Because to do that, it meant a Downworlder had to get into Alicante, or else....

She shivered, rubbing her arms as a sudden chill took to her skin. Another step, and she slipped, too focused inward to pay attention to her surroundings. Frowning, her body froze as her eyes identified the liquid that had nearly caused her to fall. "Nick, take Roxanne and go lock yourselves in the library. Do not come out until you hear my voice. I don't care who it is, if it isn't me, don't let them in!" She darted to Hendrick's side, pressing one hand to check for a pulse while the other reached for her stele, already tracing the runes to perform quick healing. She felt a small amount of relief when her fingers found the pulse, but it was short lived as she took in the injuries on his body.

"You can't die on me now." She whispered, continuously tracing healing rune after healing rune to help his blood clot and any possible poison stop its path. Because what she hadn't pointed out to Roxanne and Nick, was that Downworlders were forbidden from entering Alicante. They would burn as soon as they passed the barrier. Either a Nephilim, a Shadow Hunter, had lowered the barrier, or had stolen the Cup. "Hendrik, I think we've been betrayed." she said, her voice so soft it barely made any noise.

Despite her concern for her comrade, she kept her senses on high alert. There was no telling if Hendrik had been attacked on the street and managed to get himself here, or whether the attacker had waited for him in the Institute. It shouldn't be possible, but she wasn't discounting anything now.

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Morrigan felt nothing but pain. Endless pain, making her body one long nerve ending that did nothing but hurt. She just wanted it to stop, wanted it to end, wanted to go back to the unconscious nothing that she had been before. Each breath felt like repayment for every sin, and each thought did nothing but remind her of the waves of physical suffering her body was trying to survive.

"I just want to die." Whether she said the thought out loud or only in her mind, she wasn't conscious enough to know. Fevers, then chills followed the pain, creating an endless cycle that seemed to have no end. No end except for death. She wasn't in the forest anymore, whatever she was resting on was too harsh to be the earth. Why couldn't I just die where I felt most at peace? She wondered, trying to push herself up, trying to move her head, trying to twitch her fingers, anything. Not even her eyelids would respond to her brain's commands, and so she remained in the dark, unable to react to the intense pain, or heat or chills her body produced, unable to react to what felt like strange hands trying to fix her, or perhaps experiment on her.

Maybe it was Masque. Maybe he had gotten bored and was now experimenting on her. Maybe he had killed Ash, when the warlock had mysteriously appeared before her. Maybe Ash had never existed at all, and it had been Masque all along. The thought made her want to scream, but all that passed her lips was a whimper. I just want to die.

​

 

Nick nodded and followed Brianne. When they arrived at the institute Nick looked down. Blood. Oh dear. Hendrick's blood. ****. Nick stood between Roxanne and Hendrick, he had to deal with the mad woman before anything else. He grabbed her by the arm, trying to be gentle but also insistingly pulling her towards the library. She struggled against him and he had to use his limited strength, but eventually he got them into the library and locked the door. Who would have done such a thing to Hendrick? That was a lot of blod, Nick was beginning to feel a bit sick. "Hey, hey, calm down, it's fine, Brianne will deal with it" he tried to calm down Roxanne "It's all... going to be... fine" he didn't believe his own words, and he wasn't good at dealing with people.

 

Jenny's pov:



She was walking on the streets. The Pandemonium where the shooting was might be interesting to check out. She reached the place and was able to get in unnoticed. The place was empty. This might be because of the shooting. She wondered if the cops would be here soon. The real cops. Shootings did not go unnoticed for that long. She was sure someone would be here soon. She had to get in and out quick. She spotted the blood rather quickly. The blood was smeared on the floor. There would be a clean up crew shorty. Following the blood she was able to find a gunshot casing. Where did you take the body? She bent down to smell the blood and discovered that it was fairy blood. She walked throughout the building. She reached the back room where the blood seemed to go and it was empty. No body no nothing. She gathered from the amount of blood that the fairy was probably dead. The poor thing. The body was gone so there would not be getting any information from that. She opened the back door that was near by walked out of it. This was the way out the killer took. There was going to be so many people here sooner or later. With that it was time to get going. Nephilim, fairies and the mortal cup all in a manner of hours. What was next some crazy adventure that would last a long time. That answers would come, but for now it was time to go. She walked away from the Pandemonium until it was no longer in sight. What was next she could not say, but when Nephilim was involved it was sure to be interesting.

 

Hendrik was floating in the darkness, clinging to life, he could vaguely hear voices, familiar voices. The others? Had they been unlucky enough to witness him slipping away into the darkness? He didn't know how much longer he could hold on. He breached the surface for a moment when Brianne knelt next to him and was drawing healing rune after healing rune with her stele. His eyes fluttered open, but only half open, he looked at her trying to take her free hand, but he didn't have the strength for it. When she said they had been betrayed he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat to say something. "I'm sorry...." Was all he managed to bring before he slipped below the surface again. His wounds were beyond the simple healing runes and Brianne knew that damn well, they were going to need help here. Hendrik clung to his life with all his strength, willing himself to hold on, he hadn't made that decision only to die here. To kill those who did this to him, only to give in now. To make it back only to die on his own doorstep.

 

In Alicante, the city was in chaos. Extra wards had been thrown up and warriors prowled the streets, searching for any sign of a stranger or forced entrance. The problem was, and the Clave was afraid to acknowledge what was already supposed, was that the wards couldn't have been brought down by just anyone. No, they were specifically magicked to only allow those with the blood of the Nephilim to pass.

The old, bearded man stared at the glass floor in the center of the tower. There was a platform, made completely of marble, upon which had sat the Mortal Cup. It was now empty, the chalice of the angels gone, and he sighed. Just when he thought he could retire, everything had to get stirred up again. Turning, he used his knotted cane to help himself out the door, to where the rest of the Clave was arguing. Amongst its members was older brother to Brianne Lightwood. Familiar dark eyes found his, and flicked away. The old man frowned. They had never seen eye to eye, but now was not the time for discord.

"We should call all Nephilim back immediately. Reports from China-"

"But that completely obscures the point of the Accords! If we only-"

The old man held up his hand, and the room fell silent after a few more bickering voices made their thoughts sound. He glared at them from underneath bushy eyebrows, before speaking.

"The Nephilim are to retreat to their respective Institutes, if they have not had the common sense to do so. They will remain there, in order to uphold the Accords and our appearances. We are Shadowhunters, we do not fear the dark or the void." His voice, though soft, manage to ring through the glass walls., reaching those that waited outside.

"We will launch an investigation in the appropriate manner. The Inquisitor will be called, and will do as they must. We will also contact the Silent Brothers, and the respective diplomats of each Downworlder tribe. We will restore order, and we will retrieve the Mortal Cup. In the meantime, I am sending the Sword of Raziel somewhere safe. Somewhere none of you shall know."

There were moderate protests to this, but he held up his hand. "It appears the Instruments are no longer safe in our own city. This is the best course of action to keep the trespasser from succeeding one last time. For if they receive the Cup and the Sword, and manage to find the Mirror....Raziel help us all."

"Raziel help us all." The murmur echoed as he turned and walked back into the room, an adjourning one this time. Alarick Lightwood followed him up the stairs, brow furrowed.

"Are you ready?" The old man asked, walking very quickly in spite of his old appearance. Alarick sighed, but nodded. "I guess I get to pay my little sister a visit."
"That you do. Give her my regards." The younger man turned to go, a clothed bundle in his arms. "And Alarick."

He turned.

"Don't trust a soul."


​

Brianne rested her elbows on the bed, her hands rubbing her face. It had been mere hours since the Silent Brother had arrived, his hooded face dark and foreboding. He had "said" little to Brianne herself, only asking her politely to show him where his patient was. It had taken him two hours and fourteen minutes to work on Hendrik; Brianne had counted. Afterwards, he had departed just as quickly, offering an apology but little explanation. Brianne couldn't bring herself to care.

In just mere hours, the weight of the world had come crashing down on her shoulders. She had gone to let Roxanne and Nick out of the library after the Silent Brother had arrived, and escorted them both to the large bunk room. Whatever it had been built for in the past, she had no idea, but in the time of emergency she had them help drag mattresses and blankets in, while fortifying the windows. Should anything break the glamour, they would be ready to hold off the enemies in the converted sleeping room.

She had left them both there afterwards, telling them to remain close to this room or the infirmary while she attended to Hendrik, who's side she hadn't left. He's the only one to get any sleep. She mused, peeking over her fingers for a moment to examine the sleeping Shadowhunter before returning her gaze to the insides of her palms.

She was supposed to contact the Clave within the next two hours, regarding what her new orders would be. It would be unthinkable for them to withdraw to Alicante, but not without precedence. What else could they say but stay or come back? She anxious for the answer. Brianne could take care of herself, but she had already failed her mentor....what if she failed her charges next?

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Morrigan opened her eyes slowly, and with great effort. Everything was too bright, and too foreign. She remained where she was for a few more minutes before slowly pushing herself up to her elbows. The sheets and coverlet she rested in were white, starched neatly. She frowned, running her fingers over the crisp sheets, before sitting up. There was a painting in the corner, covered with a white cloth, but for that and the bed, the room was bare of any furnishings. Another frown, another attempt to get to her feet. She herself was wearing different clothing, some sort of silk nightdress. Pressing a hand to her side, she grimaced as a slight pang of pain ran through her.

So it seemed the poison was not all gone then. For a moment, her veins darkened under her porcelain skin, and then faded. She lifted the corner of the cloth on the painting before she departed the room, seeing nothing else of curiosity. The artistry was that of a beautiful woman, one who didn't look much older then herself. Then again, she didn't look exactly like her age.

Walking cautiously out of the room, she stopped in the hallway, her feet cold on the bare floor. She didn't recognize any part of this house, but regarding her memories, she knew where she could be. Obviously Masque hadn't gotten to finish her off, or she doubted she would be waking up, and the pain told her that this wasn't a dream. She opened a second door, and discovered a bathroom. The mirror showed a pale and thin female, with shadows underneath her eyes, and hair that tangled itself all the way down her back. She didn't bother trying to fix her appearance, but carried onwards, shutting the door behind her. It wasn't until she found her way down the stairs, taking them slowly and one at a time, that she stumbled upon the person she had least expected to find.

She stared at Ash, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Why?" She asked, her hands clenching at her sides. She remained silent as she tried to get a tether on her emotions, but this was too much.

"Why did you take off my clothes?"

​

Alarick arrived in the city just as the sun was rising. He glanced back as the portal closed, the always present frown on his face. "That's my least favorite transportation method." He announced to no one in particular. "Horses are much more...sophisticated." Never the less, he straightened his clothes, made sure the bundle was secure under his arm, and cast a glamour over himself. This one was more powerful then any other, taught to him by the old man himself. Anyone other then his own family would not be able to see him, which suited his needs just fine. There was only one family member he needed to see.

He made his way to the Institute quickly, moving with purpose. The old church loomed ahead, and he sighed. Brianne was still using mediocre glamours to hide her living space. Some things never changed. He passed through with ease and entered the old building, his footsteps clacking on the marble floor. He made no noise, simply staring up at the architecture until he decided it was time to go look for his wayward sister. You would never know we're identical. He decided with a sigh. She didn't even have a guard posted at the front door. He removed the glamour and leaned against the wall, hands crossed across his chest.