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CHAPTER TWO:
❝ Clandestine ❞
Nico was not sleeping.
Because there had been Downworlders murdered and having them on his mind but not being able to deal with them, left him restless. Because his mother was here and she was taking care of it all. Because he had just found out about why Hodge had really left. Because Jace had had a tantrum and gone off running away from the Institute. Because Max had come in, shoulders slouched and face stretched in his signature angry-sad-innocent expression and fallen on the twin bed beside him.
Nico was not sleeping.
Because he could not quieten his thoughts about Valentine and the missing Mortal Cup. Because he was thinking about how his mother used to kiss over his eyelids before he went to sleep and how if she knew where he was now, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. Because he was thinking about his father and the wretched reason for his absence. Because he was thinking about how fleeting love was, how it was always trying to run away.
Nico was not sleeping.
Because he did not know Esme's number, there was no way for him to break the rules and call her. Instead, he had begun to lie in his bed each night, eyes closed, hand resting on his phone, waiting to see if she was going to call him.
Stop it, he told himself. Stop wanting it —
His phone buzzed.
He put it to his ear.
"You're still not Hell, I see."
He was wide-awake.
He glanced towards the twin bed opposite to him where Max lay sleeping (as he did some nights when he was feeling particularly unsettled or sad or angry or wretched or whenever he came over to visit, really). His eyes were closed softly, lips parted. Nico climbed out of bed. He wandered, unknowingly, towards the kitchen and sat down in front of the refrigerator.
"Nico?" the words softened in her mouth. It always did, somehow. He had always thought that his name sounded too sharp - that if it were a painting it would have too many hard and straight lines. Isabelle, Jace, Max, even Alec, sounded quieter in comparison to his - but when she said it, ringing each syllable perfectly, cradling it in her mouth, on her tongue -
"I'm here," he said in a low voice. "What do you know about how stars are born?"
A pause. "Is this what you discuss in Hell when the doors are closed?"
"Yes."
"Are they formed in pairs?"
"Point to Van Dyne. They're binary stars, orbiting in close proximity, only becoming single stars when their partner was smashed off them by another pair of wildly spinning new stars."
Esme said, "Lonely." Then added, "Cruel."
"Is it?"
"This is the problem with Hell."
"Don't be funny with me, Dyne," Nico said. "Esme." The word was breathed out like some sort of promise.
"Tell me something about Shadowhunters," she said. There was something anxious in her voice - something jumping, something restless.
"Do you know the story of the first-ever Shadowhunter?"
He could imagine her shake her head. "No," she said, and it was accompanied by rustling sheets which made him guess she was in bed. "Tell me the story. I can't sleep. Tell me the story and send me to sleep."
He did. He told her of Jonathan the Crusader, born in the 11th Century. "During that time demons were swarming into Earth from the Void. On his way to Constantinople, he had asked a warlock to summon the angel Raziel to Lake Lyn. When Raziel arrived, Jonathan had begged him to mix his blood in a cup with that of man to create a race of demon fighters. Raziel, seeing that Jonathan's intentions and vision of the world free of demons had been a desire for good, granted this request. After the summoning, Jonathan was given the Mortal Instruments. He created the new race of demon-fighting humans, Nephilim, and formed the Clave. And he took the name Jonathan Shadowhunter. His sister, Abigail - " and he broke off.
There was another pause, and Nico realized he could hear her leveled breathing from the other end. With a sigh, he hung up. He leaned back against the fridge, eyes closed, guilty, comforted, wild, contained. In twenty-four hours, he'd be waiting for this again.
You know better, you know better, you know better -
"What the hell, man?" Alec said.
Nico's eyes flew open just as Alec hit the lights. He stood in the doorway, hair hanging over his eyes that found the phone by Nico's leg, but he didn't ask, and Nico didn't say anything. Alec would hear a lie in a second, and the truth wasn't an option. Jealousy had ruined Alec for the first several months of Clary's introduction into their group (before he'd found Magnus); this would hurt him more than that.
"I couldn't sleep," Nico said truthfully. Then, after a pause, "You're not going to try to kill Jace, are you?" He knew how angry Alec was with him, and although he'd been out all night, probably with Magnus, it didn't resolve how bad he felt about Jace.
Alec's chin lifted. His smile was sharp and there was sinister amusement. "No. I've thought of a better option."
"Do I want to know what it is?"
He gave a majestic shrug. "Probably not, no." And he was right: Nico didn't want to know.
Alec pulled the fridge door open, shoving Nico several inches across the floor. He retrieved a soda, then he eyed Nico again. He said, "I'm gonna give you some privacy with your food." As he departed, he turned off the lights, returning Nico to the dark.
Nico pushed himself to his feet, collecting his phone, and then he went back to bed. The guilt and the worry had already worn off by the time his head hit the pillow, and all that was left was the happiness.
Esme was lying awake in her bed. She had fallen into slumber during Nico's story but had to wake up around two to drive her mother to the airport. Not that she wasn't happy, she just missed her.
I'm here. She closed her eyes. Esme.
His voice hit her heart like an arrow. And there was a sigh. It breathed into the quiet room like a gust of air. Like the room had been craving it, searching for it. The room had held its breath when she had gone to sleep, now it breathed again in her consciousness. Without wanting to, Esme thought of her father. She got angry. Her mind reeled as it took her back to the past - her standing in the shower, warm water nursing bruises that peppered her skin. It had been Halloween and while other kids had been donning masks, she had been sitting on her bed, Q-tip dipped in rubbing alcohol in her hand, digging into the curves of her wounds.
It was Clary's incessant texts that brought her back. Lips parted, lashes wet, she turned over and untangled the sheets to grab her phone.
COME OVER.
NOW.
TO THE INSTITUTE.
JACE IS IN JAIL!!
That last text made her sit up straighter. Well, that was odd. Nico had said nothing to indicate such a thing but she guessed maybe he hadn't known. She threw her legs over the bed as she grabbed the phone and texted: where r u?
Her answer came as fast as she read the text: meet me at the subway.
Esme barreled towards her wardrobe and threw on a coat over her shorts and t-shirt. Locking the front door after her, she hurried out of the building to meet her friend.
