Shadowhunters: City of Possibilities

Chapter One

The Mortal War was over. Through bloodshot eyes and ichor-stained gear, the children of the angel had heard the whisper of victory erupt from this place of battle. I remember it all too well as the words, "Johnathen Morgenstern is dead," sung through my ears. At the time I was a mess of flying hair and demon goo as I let the silver bracelet that was coiled around my wrist loose. One by one it met its target, the silver flashing an angry orange as it made contact with necks, wrists, and ankles. I was moving so fast that my whip almost kept pace with the pulsing of my pendant that rested in the cove of my neck. Simon had told me later that I had looked like a D&D character emblazoned with my whip of vengeance and my pendant of heavenly fire. Even amongst the chaos in those moments I had never felt more calm. I was fully equipped with a purpose like a blade of Raziel that when wielded could hold back the demons with the determination and skill that was etched into my bones. I guess I had years of experience with sending things back where they came from that I never thought I could possibly bring something into this world of monsters. That is until this moment.
Sitting on the edge of my windowsill that was adorned with small doodles that Clary had scribbled there when we gossiped, I felt the most unlike myself I had ever felt. My once steady hands were shaking, my mind was lost to my racing thoughts and I was pretty sure I was sweating too. With every passing second it was only getting hotter, to the point it felt like my skin might start melting. I had already taken off my training gear and seeing that I was already in a black tank-top there was no way I was going to get any cooler by peeling back another layer. So instead of sulking in my own heated misery, I pick myself up off the ledge and begin to search my room for something to cool off with. My makeup stand is usually overflowing with things I have stuck there with the intention that I would put it away later, so I head in that direction first. As soon as I get there, I'm greeted by the gleaming caps of my lipstick collection. I read the labels as my hand glided over their shiny tops. Most of them had pretty common names like, "Garnet" or "Crimson" but some of my favorites had titles like, "Siren in Scarlet" or "Madame Red". Despite the fact that this girl loves her lipstick, these shades of red weren't going to help me cool off. So with only one place left to search, I quickly head toward the last drop of red in the room; My satin bed sheets. With any luck it will prove more useful than the latter.
As I tilt my head below my mattress I realize that this is one of the few places I don't clean very often. Strewn all across the wooden floor is a coating of dust so thick that in some places it looked as if some of the particles banded together to create tiny beings of fluff. In the far corner of the dust bunnies sat the forgotten form of a sock that has ceased to see the sunlight for a long time. Next to that, were two training guides on "Dungeons and Dragons for Dummies" (Simon had emphatically crossed out "dummy" and put "beginner" with a smiley face). These grime covered books will have to do as a bead of sweat rolls down my forehead, reminding me why I started this frantic search in the first place.
Just as I begin to fan myself off, I can feel bile pressing its way into the back of my throat. Instinctively, I reach up to press my hands against my lips and as a result, it sends the book spiraling downward in a much faster fashion than the manner I picked it up in. With nausea controlling my actions the only thing I can focus on is getting out of my room as quickly as possible. I really don't have much time to worry about anything else as I race forward and wrench the doorknob sideways. If it wasn't for my Shadowhunter reflexes I would have gone tumbling head first into a sea of fiery red hair. I choke on the bitter taste as I watch her usual cheerful face contort with the creases of a worried expression. What's worse is Clary's eyes usually talk before her mouth ever does and by the way they are taking in every corner of my face she already knows something is wrong. I mean I have no doubt whatsoever in my mind that I don't resemble the best picture of "perfect Isabelle Lightwood."
Without wasting any more time, Clary reaches out to place one hand on my shoulder, using the other to splay across my forehead. Her eyebrows wrinkle as she tries to take my temperature. Sometimes I think she forgets that Shadowhunters don't get sick. Even though her technique is definitely one her mother must have used on her when she was a little girl, I don't have the heart to tell her that it won't work on me. It's mundane and it really would have been sweet if she wasn't in the way of the bathroom.
"Izzy, are you okay? You don't look so good," She says as her green eyes dive into the chocolate depths of mine.
"I'm fine," I say a little too sharply.
As soon as I said it my heart sank to my feet as I watched my best friend reel away from the hostility that is emanating off of me. Despite the fact that I'm not in the mood to explain myself I can't just leave her staring at me worriedly like this. So instead of running off without an explanation I exhale heartily, "I'm so sorry Clary, I'm just all over the place right now."
Clary's eyes are sympathetic as she nods, "Do you want to talk about it? I have plenty of time," She begins stepping farther into my messy room.
"No, I'm good," I say curtly, feeling the nausea press more forcibly at the back of my throat. I watch as she pauses mid-step and turns her head back towards me. I really wish she hadn't turned around because the look on her face is killing me. I hate having to lie to her, she's like the sister I never had. What I wouldn't give just to stay here with her, to sit on the edge of my bed and watch her face light up as I tell her that I'm pregnant with her parabatia's baby. I want to, but I can't.
"Clary," I began as I put my hand on my bracelet, using the coolness to steal my mind away from vomiting all over my bedroom floor.
"I really need to go but I promise we can talk later, okay?" I say. Unable to even comprehend what's going on, Clary just stands there with her mouth slightly agape. I wish I could stay longer to explain myself better but my bracelet can only do so much for so long. So, without another word I leave Clary behind racing this feeling down the surprisingly empty hallway. I barely make it to the toilet before the bile snakes the rest of the way up my throat, coloring the once glasslike water a gross shade of beige.