The Mortal Instruments | Shadowhunters

20. The Werewolf Pack

"Daphne." a familiar voice echoed through her head as she felt her body being shook. "Daphne, wake up."

Daphne wanted to groan, to beg for give more minutes of loving sleep, but the owner of the voice only shook her harder. "Daphne." the black-haired girl blinked, her eyelids still mostly closed. "Daphne, please wake up." 

"Daphne, come on. Please don't make me do this."

With a gasp, Daphne shot up, spluttering as she was doused in cold water. She stared in belief at Clary Fray, who stood over her with a bucket of water. 

"What the fuck?" She demanded.

"Daphne." Clary's worried face, so worried and so very very scared, shook Daphne out of her sleepy stupor. 

"What?" The girl shot up before—ah. The memories came flooding back to Daphne like a tidal wave, and she winced, sitting back down as she clutched her head.

"Daphne?" Clary looked at the asian girl in concern. "Daph, are you alright?"

"Hodge." The girl breathed out.

Clary's worried expression turned back into a miserable and terrified one. "Yeah, he--"

"I know what he did." Daphne hissed. "He gave the cup to Valentine, didn't he?" 

Clary nodded, and Daphne cursed, hating herself for being right. "Damn it." She whirled around, but blinked in surprise when she couldn't find the person she was looking for. "Where—?" she said in bewilderment.

Clary winced, her miserable expression become ten times more miserable than even before. "Hodge," she hesitated, before the truth spilled out of her like water from a broken dam. "He also gave Jace to Valentine."

Daphne stared. "He WHAT? "

Clary winced at Daphne's voice. In a rushed tone, she hurriedly explained everything that had happened to Daphne. When she was done, the girl looked at her in an expression that could only be described as wretched fury. 

"We have to find him." Clary wasn't sure if she was referring to Jace, or Hodge. "Immediately." 

Clary nodded. "I know where he went. I watched him through the window, though I'm sure he's moved by now." she winced, "since I lost sight of him when I was trying to wake you up."

"I can track him," Daphne grit. "I could track him to the ends of hell if I wanted to; let's get going."

Clary followed after Daphne as the girl grabbed a nearby object—the fountain pen Hodge always used—before dashing out of the library and down the stairs; the girl took the stairs running and hit the street, still sprinting forwards. People walking their dogs in the humid twilight jumped aside as Daphne barreled down the walkway alongside the East River. The blood from their earlier fight with Abbadon, paired with the fierce, murderous expression on her face made it no wonder why even New Yorkers were leaping out of the way to avoid the girl.

Daphne traced a stele against the palm of her hand, not even pausing in her sprint, before clutching the fountain pen and aiming it forward. It led her through an intersection, where she darted through the crowd near a subway entrance, shouldering people aside by shamelessly using her knees and elbows as weapons. 

Furious, Daphne pulled free of the crowd just in time to see flash of tweed suit disappear around the corner of a narrow service alley between two buildings. 

"Got you," she whispered.

She moved around a Dumpster and dove into the mouth of the alley. Something crawled up the back of her throat—a bitter, disgusting taste. Though it had been twilight on the street, here in the alley it was as dark as nightfall. She could just see Hodge, standing at the far end of the alley, where it dead-ended into the back of a fast-food restaurant.