ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴʟʏ ꜰɪʀᴇ ~ ᴛᴍɪ

Chapter 21 - Burning Gold

"Alright," Imogen said wearily. "I'll end this exchange. You should round up the conclave, Maryse. We'll bring the fight to Valentine."

The Lightwoods didn't bother to keep the shock off their face.

Maryse had followed George, her anger still at her highest. She continued her former argument, not bothering to hear Imogen's words. Such a waste of words, Allison thought. Then, the Lightwood siblings barged in. Maryse had been so startled that she paused for a moment, giving her the chance for her grandmother to speak up.

"I'm sure Robert had already done it," Allison gave Maryse a sly smile. "Isn't that the reason he vanished for so long?"

Maryse looked a little smug.

Alec, on the other hand, stood in utter surprise, staring at Allison. So he didn't believe she'd change the Inquisitor's mind. Or due to the reason that Imogen seemed calm, almost serene. Allison gave him a grin, to which he seemed startled but smiled back. Isabelle did look slightly impressed.

"Imogen," Maryse said. There was something in her voice—an urgency—that made even the Inquisitor turn and look.

The air just by the freestanding brass globe was shimmering like water. A shape began to coalesce out of it, like black paint being stroked over a white canvas, evolving into the figure of a man with broad, planklike shoulders. The image was wavering, too much for Allison to see more than that the man was tall, with a shock of close-cropped salt-white hair.

"Valentine." The Inquisitor looked caught off guard, Allison thought, though surely she must have been expecting him.

The air by the globe was shimmering more violently now. Isabelle gasped as a man stepped out of the wavering air as if he were coming up through layers of water. Jace's father was a formidable man, over six feet tall with a wide chest and hard, thick arms corded with ropy muscles. His face was almost triangular, sharpening to a hard, pointed chin. Allison thought he might have been considered handsome, but he was startlingly unlike Jace, lacking anything of his son's gold looks. The hilt of a sword was visible just over his left shoulder—the Mortal Sword. It wasn't as if he needed to be armed, since he wasn't corporeally present, so he must have worn it to annoy the Inquisitor. Not that she needed to be more annoyed than she was.

"Imogen," Valentine said, his dark eyes grazing the Inquisitor with a look of satisfied amusement. That's Jace all over, that look, Allison thought. "And Maryse, my Maryse—it has been a long time."

Maryse, swallowing hard, said with some difficulty, "I'm not your Maryse, Valentine."

"And these must be your children," Valentine went on as if she hadn't spoken.  "They look just like you."

"Leave my children out of this, Valentine," Maryse said, clearly struggling to keep her voice steady.

"You must be Patrick's son," He said, looking at George. "Too bad he cloistered to the Shanghai Institute. Would've made a formidable ally."

A muscle flickered in George's jaw, but he kept quiet with a blank look on his face. Though Allison knew he wanted to say something stronger, which they didn't need now.

Valentine's eyes came to rest on Allison. A faint shiver went through her as if something had plucked at her nerves. There was something in his blank and predatory gaze. But all Allison felt was ire, which she masked over with an impassive face.

"Allison Graymark," He said, testing out her name. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person. "

Imogen suddenly stood before her. "Don't speak with her."