The Morgenstern Chronicles

The Morgenstern Chronicles 1: Before

Clary loved the Morgenstern manor house. She'd grown up in it, with it's buttery yellow stone and wide grassy lawn. It was light and airy inside, with it's west-facing window that always cast evening sunshine on the staircase.

   She stood in the doorway of the spacious living room. Elegant furniture was scattered throughout to room. A grand piano stood in one corner, polished to a high shine, though it hadn't been played in a month or so. Clary remembered her father, Valentine, sitting there and playing classical numbers. He'd sit her up on his knee, or when she got too big, on the bench beside him, and show her which keys to press to play flats or sharps and various keys. She could play decently at eight years old, but she'd played less frequently since Valentine had died in the war for the mortal cup. She didn't have the same talent for it that her father did, and she paled in comparison to her brother's ability to play by ear.

   "Clary?" said a soft voice behind her. She turned to see Luke, her stepfather, standing in the hallway. His brown curly hair was starting to turn gray at his temples. "Don't you have an appointment with someone?"

   The red-haired girl fingered the thin black cotton sundress she was wearing.

   "This is really...short," Clary said lamely. She knew she should be grateful to have anything to wear--Isabelle had saved her from wearing her usual frayed jeans and graphic tees--but she just felt so exposed in the dress. She wanted to groan in frustration. Why did her adoptive sister always give her super short dresses and skirts?

   "Because that's all she owns," Jonathan said, who was sitting on the counter behind Luke, wiggling his blond eyebrows suggestively. Clary started, until she realized she'd spoken out loud.

   "She has pants," she protested. "I've seen her wear pants before."

   "Pants are boring," he stated flatly. He slid off the counter and stretched with his hands above his head, like a cat. "Besides," he added, amusement sparking in his eyes, "none of her pants would fit you. You're too short."

   His sister narrowed her eyes at him. "You're treading on thin ice, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern," Clary warned. In the other room, a knock echoed through the foyer.

   "Oh, look at that," her brother drawled, looking towards the door. "Your boyfriend's here."

   "Well, don't just talk about it," she said, pushing past him and Luke. Clary flung open the door, revealing a golden-haired boy leaning against a column, dressed all in black. He looked up and smiled, looking her up and down.

   "Did Isabelle loan you her clothes again?" he asked, smirking slightly.

   "How'd you guess?"

   "Because you don't own anything that short. Though it certainly wouldn't hurt you. Jonathan would probably hurt me, though, if--"

   Clary smacked him on the arm. "I thought Luke was going to have a coronary when I walked out of my room. I had to convince him to let me go out in this."

   "I'll bet." He offered her his hand and she took it, leaning into him for a moment. His blond hair was shorter than the last time she'd seen him.

   "Did Maryse cut your hair again?" Clary asked. He grimaced.

   "Unfortunately," he said grimly. "It wasn't that long. She thinks I have bad personal hygiene."

   "Ridiculous."

   "That's what I told her."

   They rode Jace's horse, Wayfarer, into Alicante, and climbed up Guard Hill, where Jace had laid out a blanket a few yards away from the Guard itself. He retrieved a basket from the nearby bushes and they sat down. He set out the food, and Clary picked up a sandwich.

   "Cheese?" she guessed. Jace smiled over at her.

   "How'd you know?"

   "You haven't changed that much since my birthday picnic in the greenhouse," she said.

   "And look," said her companion, holding up a red piece of fruit, "I even remembered the apple." Clary laughed.

   "Just one?"

   "It's tradition." He produced the same bone-handled knife he'd had that night and sliced the apple into pieces.

   They ate their picnic and then, when the sun had set, Clary lay on Jace's chest while they looked at the stars. He stroked her hair and pointed out various constellations: Orion, the hunter, Sirius, the dog, Aquarius, the water carrier.

   "What are you thinking about?" Jace asked after a while. Clary propped herself up on her elbows on his chest. He looked up at her lazily through golden eyes.

   "How it'll be nice to be back. At the institute," she replied.

   "Alicante not your scene?" Jace inquired with a quirk of his mouth.

   "I don't know." She shrugged. "It'll always be home. But I love New York, too. It's more...it's always in motion. Alicante is nice, safe, but it's not..."

   "I know what you mean," Jace agreed as she searched for a word. "It's too slow to keep up with us."

   "How do you suppose Simon's getting on without us?" she asked

after a moment. Her best friend had Ascended years ago, and had come to Alicante to the Acadamy. Simon was the main reason they were there in the first place--to take him back with them to New York so he could begin his more informal training, which, as Jace had noted, was really more improve than anything else. You just couldn't really learn how to fight demons from a textbook.

   "I'm sure he's suffering without Isabelle there to worship him."

   Clary snorted. "Isabelle didn't worship him. It was the other way around, really."

   "He manages to restrain himself," Jace said.

   "Not according to Alec. Hearing it from him, you'd think they were always going at it."

   "Alec's paranoid. And he's her older brother," he added after a moment of thought. "Older brothers are supposed to worry about that sort of thing."

   Clary groaned. "Tell me about it. Jonathan always waits up for me when I go out."

   She'd hardly finished her sentence when she heard booted footsteps running up the grassy hill towards them. Jace and  both sat up as Isabelle's black-haired head appeared over the top of the steep hill.

   "Izzy?" Jace said, puzzled. Her hair was back in it's usual neat braid, but there was an edge of urgency to her. "What is it?"

   "Simon," she replied darkly. "Something's happened at the Academy."