The Warlock of Notre Dame

Heavenly Light, or Hell's Fire?

I'm going to start off by saying three things:

1: You're welcome.

2: i'm sorry.

3: I will explain myself after.

The Warlock of Notre Dame: Chapter Four- Heavens Light, or Hell’s Fire?

Jace Pov- I walked around Paris, bored out of my mind. There was a big sale at the bakery today and Downworlders were forbidden to go inside, so Jonathan and I were tasked to guard the building.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that Downworlders aren’t allowed to come inside the bakery? It’s owned by a mundane who doesn’t even know about Downworlders.”

Jonathan shrugged, looking around us. “A lot of Nephilim eat at this bakery. Father doesn’t want them to be disturbed by the filth of the streets.”

The way Valentine and Jonathan saw Downworlders was still surprising to me. Especially since they had a warlock that Jonathan claimed to be like a brother. Most Nephilim hate Downworlders but Valentine seems to hate them on a whole other level. Jonathan just seems to want to make his father proud, so he blindly follows him.

I wanted to ask him why he cares so much what his father thinks, but I didn’t get the chance. A group of werewolves walked up, trying to get inside the bakery, and Jonathan moved away from me and stepped in front of them.

“Downworlders aren’t welcome at this establishment. You all should know that already, so get lost.”

The leader, I believe his name was Bat, crossed his arms irritably. “Why shouldn’t we be allowed to go inside? As far as the owner knows, we are just any normal customer. They will accept us.”

“Yes, but the Nephilim do not. My father’s word is law and he says this place is off limits to you.”

Bat rolled his eyes. “Every place in Paris is off limits to us. Is there no where we can go? All we want is to buy some bread for our families.”

Jonathan shrugged. “You have your own bakery ran by your own kind. Go there and get your bread.”

The werewolves were getting irritated, they bared their teeth and clenched their fists, trying not to lose control of their rage. “We would if your father allowed him to have the proper ingredients to make his food. His bread and cakes never turn out.”

“That’s none of my father’s concern. Now leave before we are forced to arrest you.”

I looked at Jonathan, frowning slightly. “Can’t we just go in and buy the bread for them?”

I was answered with a dark glare. “No! Why would you even ask that?”

“Jonathan,” a female voice yelled, making Jonathan tense up slightly. I turned toward it and smiled, seeing it was the feisty red head I saw when I first got here. She had her hands on her hips as she glared at her brother. Alec Lightwood stood next to her, not looking any happier.

“Clarissa, what do you want? Can’t you see that I’m doing work,” Jonathan asked crossing his arms.

“There is no harm in letting these men go inside and order some bread for their families. Can’t you look passed it just this once?”