The Mortal Instruments: The City of Dust

Chapter 5: Premonitions and Promises

  Clary stood in the center of a large ballroom, her red hair piled neatly upon her head, making her head feel heavy. A green silk dress clung to her body, elegantly draping itself forming a mass of silk and gold gems. Hundreds of Shadowhunters danced around her wearing odd masks, so all she saw were beety little eyes that shown bright in the moonlight. Though, somehow she knew the person walking towards her, even below the mask.

  "May I have this dance?" Simon's words were soft, as she heard violins and clarinets sound at Simons words.

  "Yes." She replied, smiling as he bowed, she repeated the gesture and with that they were off into the crowd.

  The dance quickened, but Simon had no trouble keeping up, until Jace arrived.

  "What are you doing here?" His voice sounded throughout the crowd, stunning Simon.

  "Jace--" Clary protested but he was already speaking.

  "Idris, is a place for the living." He replied.

 Clary awoke with a jolt. Memories of the dream spinning through her brain. She breathed heavily, observing the room around her. A fluffed pillow was beneath her head, and she lay atop a velvety red comforter. An elegant chandelier hung from the cieling, making the room dim. A wooden wardrobe, stood across from the four pillared bed she sat on. Two nightstands stood beside the bed, matching to the wardrobe, along with a dresser, and an oldfashioned highbacked embrodered chair. It took her several seconds to unpeal the glamour on the person in the chair, but once she did, she couldn't breathe.

  "Jace. What are you doing in my room?" She exhaled, struggling to inhale again.

  "I brought your stuff up, and let me say, whoever packed your bag, doesn't pack lightly." He rose his eyebrows holding something in his hand, "I presume you need this?" In his hand he held a lacey red bra.

  "You went through my stuff?" She grabbed the bra throwing it on the bed.

  "I was curious." He replied with a grin.

  "You are perverted." She fell back on the bed, "Perverts aren't allowed in my bedroom, please leave." 

 "Fine." He sighed, "Your family is waiting downstairs, Isabelle made us breakfast. Don't keep us waiting, I am hungry."

  "My family is used to eating without me. You should learn to do the same." And then he was gone, as if he were never there, the door didn't even make a sound as it shut.

  Clary sat there for a moment pondering how someone could ruin your day without even trying.

  It took what felt like hours to unpack her stuff. But eventually she was all moved in, and knew exactly who packed her bag, courtesy of the pounds of makeup she found in a small bag. 

  Reese.

  "She dressed in black, but wore pink on her lips." Clary referred to a poem she studdied last year.

  Dressing quickly wasn't hard for Clary, never had been. But this morning, it was harder to dress fast, then on any others. She never cared how she looked, but today she did, and after staring at her closet for several moments, she gave up and jumped in the shower, hoping the hotwater would clear her mind.

  The turned her red hair brown, and formed droplets wherever strans ended. It was peaceful, the first amount of utter peace she had had in weeks. Her mascara made a mask around her eyes, and the soap clung to her body as if it were the silk dress in her dreams, making her stomach knot. There was something about the dream that made her feel uneasy, but now wasn't the time to go searching for a dream reader, or whatever mundanes call them.