Lost || Jace Herondale

NINE

Alec's, now Imogen's, office felt cold. Not just the sort of cold which caused goosebumps to rise on your arms, but an eerie, stale cold. The sort which made you nervous even if you were truthful. It's crazy how different a room can feel depending on who is in it. 

Imogen stood behind the large, organised desk. Two shadowhunter guards stood on opposite ends of the room - armed and expressionless.  

"Don't mind them, they're just precautionary." Imogen said with no sense of solace. She motioned to the chair in front of the desk. 

I complied and took a seat, eyeing the guards anxiously. 

"You have nothing to worry about, if you have nothing to hide." Imogen spoke again, sending a jolt of panic down my spine. "State your full name and age."

"Freya Anderson, I'm 17 years old." I answered. 

"Interesting." She said, tilting her head. "You're approaching the age where it will be more difficult for you to ascend to a shadowhunter, the risk of failure will be much higher. Are you aware of this?"

"Yes, I'm aware. But the possibility of becoming a Nephilim is worth the risk." I twiddled with my fingers in my lap, trying to keep eye contact. "I will ascend into a shadowhunter, or I will perish loyal to the angels." 

"Tell me a little about your history, have you always been in New York?" Imogen asked, leaning back in her chair.  

"I moved around a lot as a child but came here when I was six." I briefly explained. 

"And your parents, what about them?" Imogen pressed.

I gulped, "My mum passed a year after we moved here. I never knew my dad so I live with my stepfather." 

"Good, saying goodbye to your remaining family will be easy then if  you ascend. And of course, there is only your step father to explain your death to if you fail." 

I retained a flinch at her bluntness. She was trying to get under my skin. Imogen was smart and could sense that something was a miss. I planted myself firmly in my chair to stop my incessant fidgeting. I reminded myself to just get through this talk with as little trouble and suspicion as possible. 

"You're in school at the minute I presume? Or whatever mundane teenagers do nowadays." She continued.

"Yes, senior year. I'm looking into applying for colleges soon."

"Hm," Imogen muttered. "You do realise that if you were to become a shadowhunter - you're not going to have time to go to college? Your duties serving the clave will take precedence."

Shit. "Y-yes. Of course. I-I just meant that it would look suspicious if I didn't apply." 

"I suppose it would." Imogen stood from her chair, "that will be all. Send Isobel Lightwood in after you." 

I nodded, refraining from letting out the biggest sight of relief. I could feel the sweat drip down my back and there was no doubt Imogen knew it too. I couldn't stand up quick enough and made my way to the office door. 

"Oh." She held up her hand and my heart leapt into my throat. "Just one more thing." 

I reluctantly paused my steps and turned to face her. She had a knowing smile on her face and lifted her hand to motion to one of the guards. I recognised the stern and blank face from when Imogen first arrived. He approached me and I instinctively took a step back.

The shadowhunter pulled a dagger from the sheath on his belt. 

At the sight of the familiar weapon, bile rose to my throat and I reversed until my back met another guard's chest. The guard behind me swiftly pulled my arms behind my back and I knew better than to struggle against him.