Lost || Jace Herondale

EIGHT

"Imogen Herondale," a middle aged woman strode into the institute, wearing a formal suit and oozing authority. "Official Inquisitor of the Clave. You must be Alec Lightwood, head of the institute." 

Alec cautiously shook Imogen's hand, "Yes, what business does the Clave have with the New York institute? On such . . . short notice." 

We had been told that the Clave would be paying a visit in two weeks, yet - here they stood, early and unannounced. The plan was for myself and Magnus to stay far away from the institute while the Clave visited to avoid any unwanted questions. The less they knew the better. Things never quite go to plan, do they? 

We were stood by the monitors, looking into patterns of Valentine's men and suspicious activity. If we could find his henchmen, we could find Valentine. 

All of us tensed as Imogen answered Alec, "for the time being, I will be taking authority over this establishment. So Mr Lightwood, you will step down from your position as head of this institute while I am here." 

Jace, who had been stood by my side, approached Imogen. "Is that really necessary? We are in the middle of a vital investigation that the Clave are doing nothing to solve." 

Imogen tilted her head, "I suggest you watch your tone, Wayland. We have received intel that someone among you has been betraying us. One of you has been sending information to Valentine. You have a traitor in your midst. And right under your nose, you never even realised. Alec, perhaps you're not cut out for this position. after all."

"I beg your pardon," Magnus threatened with an anger laced tongue, "Alec is carrying the weight of the institute on his shoulders so I suggest that you talk to him with respect. He is doing far more for the shadow world than you ever have." 

While the argument heated, I swiftly grasped the necklace that was on the table next to me and stuffed it into my pocket. The Clave finding a pure, angelic artefact was the last thing we needed. 

"And what is a downworlder doing in this institute?" Imogen spat back with disgust. 

"That downworlder is my boyfriend." Alec admitted with spite. 

I felt Izzy lean into my ear, "Keep quiet, don't bring attention to yourself. We need to get you out of here before-" 

"I am placing this institute on full lockdown until every single person has been inspected and questioned. No one leaves. Accept for you, Bane. A warlock has no business here." Imogen instructed, the guards behind her stepping forward with their palms resting on the hilt of their seraph blades. 

"I will not stand for this-" Alec began to argue before he was stopped by Magnus shaking his head.

"It's fine Alec," Magnus assured, "Freya, you should come with me."

 I nodded, and swiftly began to make my way toward the warlock. 

"You're not a downworlder." Imogen remarked, confusion pulled her eyebrows down. 

"She's a mundane," Jace stepped toward me, placing a comforting hand on the small of my back. "She has the sight so we are training her to ascend into a shadowhunter." 

"Why haven't you alerted the Clave of this?" Imogen asked harshly. 

"Freya has only been here a few weeks, we have been so tied up with Valentine that I hadn't managed to write to you yet." Alec explained. 

"Mundanes becoming shadowhunters is a rare occasion now, it certainly will be a spectacle." Imogen chuckled, continuing when she caught my breath hitch in my throat. "Well you certainly won't survive, look at you. Your stick thin with nothing warrior about you. A waste of resources and time."