Better in Black

Two

At dusk, a mist began to roll in off the Thames, encompassing the city in an ethereal blanket. I had discovered a balcony tacked onto the side of one of the numerous empty rooms and it was there that I sat, face pressed against the cool railings, and watched the light drain from the sky.
Big Ben chimed the hour, echoing out across the pearlescent miasma. Perched so high up such an antiquated building, I felt as if I could glimpse the past, witness our ancestors' stories from afar. The fog was so thick that I could not see the streets, only the spires of St Paul's Cathedral and the uppermost points of the taller buildings such as The Shard (a not quite so historic landmark) and the smooth clock face which hid the bell, Big Ben. I focussed my attentions on the older parts of the city and continued my daydream.
In my minds eye, ladies in silks and gentlemen in cravats sidled down the darkening streets, hastening for carriages that awaited them behind sleekly groomed geldings. Footmen opened doors with a bow and handled delicately wrapped purchases, clicking horses on and hauling them back in the crowded mess of traffic. Ragged children scampered between horses hooves in the search for dropped pennies, some toting lamps or brooms to perform menial tasks for the gentry which swarmed the high ends.
In my imagination, there was a girl who stood out from the rest. Her clothes were no more elaborate nor her beauty any more pronounced than other passerby, yet her heart merited attention and her bravery drew stares. A charm hung at her neck, proud and celestial, clicking and whirring to the beat of her heart and the rhythm of her breathing.
On her arm was a man with a cock-sure grin and tawny hair that grew wildly and would not be oppressed beneath a tall hat. A pace in front was another man, who's hair shone with the appearing moon, the same argent colour as the cat that trotted contentedly at his heels. They did not hail a taxi carriage nor seek for their own. Instead they made their way on foot, regardless of the worsening visibility, alighting in each others' company and twinkling with the stars. They were as much a part of the night as anything to be found in the sky.
I was snapped from my reverie by another visitor. "You're Avary." He stated.
I tilted my head to be met by the stare of twin cobalt eyes and hair slick as oiled raven's feathers. A particularly long rune protruded from the collar of his tattered shirt and stretched it's way up the side of his neck like a love bite from a tendril of flame.
"You're Alec." I mimicked his direct, emotionless tone.
"Can I talk to you inside?" It wasn't a request; it was an order. He left no leeway for anything but me conforming immediately.
"Sure." I followed him back inside, slumping into a prim armchair across from him. I was intrigued but anxious. Alec's expression spoke of so much gravity that if we were launched into space he would rocket straight back down whilst I floated aimlessly, I was sure.
He was blunt, wasting no time in getting to the point. "Why are you here?"
I shrugged, "You know as much as I do."
A vein above his eye twitched and his fingers clenched on the arm of his chair. He wasn't angry at me, I didn't think. The distance behind his eyes told me as much. Something else was on his mind, something much more significant than me. He steeled himself, encasing his emotions in an impenetrable cell. "I can't accept that as an answer, Avary. The others, they... to them you're something new and interesting, like a lost puppy. Do you understand?"
I pondered for a moment and then shook my head.
"You're vulnerable yet fun for them, a change from the normal." He continued. I bristled involuntarily, it was true but it stung my pride to be called vulnerable and to be likened to a distraction. "It's a phase, the puppy is cute until it bites, right? Then it's just another dog."
"I haven't-"
"But you will." Alec interrupted. "You'll hurt them. Who knows, maybe that's the reason you're here."
"No!" I met his eyes with a glare of my own. "In case you hadn't noticed, I wasn't even conscious when I arrived. It's not my fault I'm here, it's certainly not a part of any plan!"
"I know it's not your fault." Alec was cool, collected. "Jace has a penchant for bringing home strays. But you can only bring home so many healthy mongrels before your luck runs out and your whole pack gets fleas."
I gaped, struggling for words. I knew Alec wouldn't be as welcoming as Clary or Simon, his reaction to Clary in City of Bones was evidence enough, but I would never have had him down as being so downright cruel. Something was up, I reasoned, something so horrific that it had changed Alec. "Will you stop with that metaphor?" I said.
"If you tell me why you're here." Alec rose to his feet.
"I. Don't. Know." I accentuated each word heavily.
"If the others knew, they wouldn't be so complacent with their trust." Alec turned on his heel and left.
"Knew what?" I called after him.
He was already gone.

That evening, we had guests. Izzy had invited the majority of a pack of Praetor Lupus trainees around as a break from some residential work experience they were doing as part of the reinstatement of the order. Roughly a dozen arrived just after dark, apologising for the absence of the rest of their pack. The eldest was in his late thirties, one of the leaders, whilst the youngest was no more than sixteen.
Izzy hustled them into a cavernous drawing room full of sprawled furniture pointed in sociable clusters. The walls were bedecked with ancient oil paintings in burnished gilt frames, hiding patches of mouldering damp spreading across the eloquent wallpaper. It was a scene drawn from the past that had experienced a few minor bumps along its way. These confirmed the thought that it was a reproduction desperately grasping its history in an attempt to remain unchanging rather than a true contemporary of its former self.
The attempt at restoration was strained but the room soon filled with a suffocating miasma of cheer, the tendrils of which crept out to tickle the most stoic of hearts. The werewolves, soon softened by beer, were raucous in their banter but good-natured in their intentions. The mahogany end tables shook with the roar, quaking in fear, far more used to port and cut crystal than beer and cheap green glass.
Izzy flitted from wolf to wolf, drowning in the adoring attention she received. Jace was soon encompassed in testosterone-induced challenges set by the visitors, Clary joined to his hip. Alec and Magnus retreated to the relative haven of one of the studies and I was left loitering impotently on the outskirts, the epitome of the wallflower.
"Avary!" Clary skittered over and linked her arm through mine. "Come over here and meet people!"
A twinkle of light flashed across her lips and into her emerald eyes, igniting a smile that burned with genuine compassion, alighting her entire face.
Her joy was infectious and I allowed myself to be dragged along and slung down on a sofa between her and one of the younger wolves. "Avary," Clary chirruped, "This is Goss, Emery, Landon, Freddie, Kester and Lowry. Wolves, this is Avary."
I muttered something awkward, along the lines of "hi."
The assembled six wolves, slumped on the arms of each others' chairs and leaning against the crackling hearth, nodded and murmured a collective greeting, each voice indiscernible from the next. Even the youngest had a voice as low as a middle-aged man, each laced with an undertone of growl. I would describe their accent as wolf above anything else.
The lycanthrope beside me, who had unruly auburn curls and hazel eyes the tone of soft wood, prised his arm towards me and I sort of shook it, hindered by the cramped conditions.
He introduced himself. "Emery." There was a kindly gleam to his eyes and a sweet half-smirk adorning his lips.
"Avary." I followed.
Despite being pressed so closely together, myself and Emery hardly spoke a word for the rest of the evening, except for Emery's occasional whispered comments about the others that had me choking back laughter. I stayed silent, preferring to observe the conversation than become a part of such a foreign world which I did not yet fully understand.
In the early hours, Izzy called it a day and the groups of lycanthropes converged, carrying two of their number on their shoulders. They had been a part of one of Jace's challenges and had succeeded in drinking each other under the table. It brought a smile to my lips to imagine the way they would be awoken in the morning and the state they would find themselves in after the inevitable pranks that always follow the first to pass out.
Emery drew me into an impromptu hug in the doorway. His broad shoulders encompassed me and I was met with the smell of wet dog and Coca-Cola with an underlying tone of something even sweeter which I could not identify. He was the only one who didn't smell of alcohol as he was the only wolf who hadn't been drinking. "We'll soon get you out of your shell." He promised.
I smiled self-consciously and drew away. "See you."
He waved, flashed me a grin and then was gone, yelling "Landon, Goss, wait!" after a taller, dark-skinned wolf and his smaller, blonde counterpart.
"Night, Avari!" I turned to see Clary disappearing up the stairs, Jace's arm slung across her shoulders.
"Night!" I called back, but she was already gone.
A final lycanthrope appeared from the drawing room. He stroked the print on my cheek distractedly on the way past. "See you, Avary."
I wished him goodbye but he wasn't paying attention, his drink-addled mind having already wandered off on its own tangent. I was pretty sure that he was Lowry, identifiable by his warm honey skin and almond-shaped, chocolate eyes. The door slammed shut behind him and I was left alone with the echoes. Unable to move for a moment, staring at the new emptiness. Alone.