By the Angel

Chapter 14

I peek out the window and watch Jace jump on the back of his Harley and drive away unharmed, only then do I breathe again.

Once he's safely away from Valentine, from me, the panic in my chest lessens but not by much. Jace may be out of the woods but I'm not.

I wish this feeling of bliss would last but it won't at least not while I'm here back in the house that sucks the life force right out of me.

My date with Jace was magical, I never thought I would be they type of person that would go crazy over a guy but Jace Wayland has turned me into a freaking cliche.
It's like the universe has handpicked him from my fantasies and sent him to me.

"Clarrisa, " a cold voice booms from behind me, making my skin crawl at the wicked sound of the devl.

"What do you want Valentine?" I hesitantly ask as I spin around to face the monster that is half of my bloodline.

"Well it looks like when I threaten lover boy, you suddenly follow directions."

"If you lay one hand on him, I will kill you Valentine," I say fiercely, "I'll kill you."

He smiles then, "you would kill your own father? That's dark, even for you.

Even for me? I don't even know what that's supposed to mean, next to him I look like a freaking ray of sunshine.

"You aren't my father, you're just some psychopath that got my mother pregnant."

"Clary Fray Morgenstern!" My mom shouts as she runs out of the kitchen to scold me. Her fury baffles me even to this day. She's angry at the wrong person.
"It's okay Jocelyn, she's just going through a rebellious faze, it will pass in time, wont it princess?"

I flinch at the word and he grins. Taking it as a sign of fear but really it's all I can do not to wrap my arms around his bare neck and strangle him.

When I say nothing in return he just shakes his head like I'm the problem. Like I'm the villain of the situation, when all I have ever done is stick up for myself.  "Just go to your room Clary, this conversation will continue later."

Yeah, I'm sure it will resume later, when Jocelyn isn't here to whiteness her doting husband threaten the life of my boyfriend.
Like she would even care.
She's that far gone, I don't know why I continue to have hope for a mother who will never put me first. As I start to walk up the stairs I can feel Valentine's soulless eyes boring into my back.

This discussion isn't close to being finished and that's okay because I'm not even close to backing down.

I take the key out of the hidden compartment of the soles of my shoe and let myself in my room making sure to lock the door back in place.

I installed this a few weeks ago and to my surprise Valentine hasn't figured it out yet. Or he just doesn't care, he could break it down if he wanted to but then again so could I.

He doesn't care about me so why does he insist on controlling my life? Maybe because I'm part Jocelyn or maybe because we share the same blood. "Blood calls to blood," he would always say. I never quite understood what he meant. For him it's more like control, I'm his bloodline, Jocelyn is his wife so therefore by some warped logic that makes us his to command.

I refuse to be his puppet on a string, I will not dance when he says dance, nor will I let him hurt anyone I love. Before I thought if I just cut everyone out of my life they would be safe, but I was only fooling myself.

If Valentine Morgenstern wants you gone consider yourself dead, or so they say.  That's what he was known for in the war. Ruthless against the enemy, never met a life he couldn't end with the flick of his fingers. Until me, until I became stronger than him. He didn't much care for that, not at all. So he goes after my weaknesses because he has none. My family, not the family I was born into but the one I chose.
I take off the dress I will no longer be returning, it has dirt all over it and I guess you could say it has sentimental value. I take a look at myself in the mirror at how ridiculous I must look from the outside looking in.

A sheathed knife strapped to my side, a pair of black heals that have several hidden compartments I use to conceal small knives, hair clips, that once strategically placed in my hair looks like nothing more than a purple swirl but once extracted turn into sharp needle point daggers.

My makeup bag consist of an old lipstick tube converted into pepper spray, my mascara hides a nail file perfectly sharpened to pick any lock or stab someone in the eye, whatever the situation calls for. To say I've gotten creative with my wardrobe since that night would be a vast understatement.

Another reason I had to stop kissing Jace before I lost control. If he saw that I was strapped down like I was preparing for war it would have sent him packing. Which is exactly what I should do for his own protection but what I should do is the last thing I want.
I am though. Preparing myself for war, this is one battle that will never be done raging.

As I turn my back to the mirror and turn my head, I'm reminded of another reason I stopped kissing Jace.

The scars decorating my back remind me I haven't always won the battle, reminding me that even now I am not invincible. I trace each burn mark, each rough scar, with the tip of my finger, some were by the hand of Valentine, some were from that night.

I've grown to love each one of my imperfections, they remind me of how much I can take, of how strong I really am but I realize they aren't exactly appealing to look at.

If Jace saw me would he be repulsed? Would he run away? Something tells me he wouldn't but he would have questions. Questions I'm not yet ready to answer.

I change into a soft blue silky camisole with a matching pair of boy shorts, with one last glance at the door I crawl into bed.

Images racing through my mind as my eyes start to close. Flashes of Jace, of everyone important to me and then finally of Valentine and the monster with the white blonde hair.

I might not have won every battle but I will win the war.

I drift further and further into unconscious as the nightmares take over. And then someone's hands are on me, it takes me a moment to realize this isn't part of the dream, it's really happening.

"I will win the war, " I think to myself as I open my eyes to confront my attacker.

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Published 2/26/19