The Mortal Instruments: City of Tainted Blood (Book 2) (ON HOLD)

Prologue: Flames of My Blood

"I thought about how there are two types secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out,"

-Ally Carter, Don't Judge A Girl By Her Cover

_______________

Without a glamour, the Shadowhunter looked completely untouchable, too beautiful and confident to approach, dressed in all in suede and thick leather, with a face as innocent as an angel's and lips, when curved into a smile, as devious and sly as the devil's.

Of course, appearances could be changed and if she wanted to, she could have looked as menacing and dangerous as a Draconidea demon.

Her curly dark brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail as her clear grey eyes shifted restlessly, darting to any sudden moving objects. Most of them either pigeons taking off or drunk and high mundanes stumbling out of clubs. The brunette muttered something fairly blasphemous and vulgar about mundanes from Manhattan.

Her weapons, however, had been glamoured so that the mundanes that were walking up and down the streets of Manhattan couldn't see the threatening weapons that armed the Shadowhunter like accessories. Dangerous, sharp and murderous accessories. Her seraph blades and daggers hung on her belt, ready for instant use. Her hands were prepared to fly to her belt and whip out a weapon if the situation called for it.

She was lost in thought, her hands folded across her chest only partly from the cold. She had to keep them trapped otherwise she feared she would punch the next mundane she saw out of highly strung frustration. She glared at the pavement beneath her like it had committed some sort of unmentionable crime towards her.

Manhattan was alive, even at three in the morning. Clubs belted out loud, annoying EDM as she passed them, electric light spilling onto the streets. To be honest, Manhattan never slept. Mundanes got high and partied until five in the morning and stumbled back home later. At about seven, the less wild Manhattanites went to work before the club phase overtook again at about five in the evening.

Glass fronted clubs showed sweaty bodies dressed in scanty outfits pressed tightly together as they moved in what mundanes called dancing which basically consisted of grinding and rubbing private parts on other people's private parts. She had danced like that before, yes, but she had called it seduction. Flashing ever changing lights threw a colorful pattern of colors on the sweaty partygoers.

She cringed at the sight of some of the disgusting alleyways that were situated in between clubs and bars. They were damp, the moonlight reflecting off what she assumed to be spilled beer and cat pee and an unfathomable stench floated up her nostrils from them if she got too close. Garbage and discarded beer bottles lay scattered, some lying in shattered heaps by the walls of the clubs.

"Hello, pretty lady." an extremely drunken voice called from behind.

"Great," the Shadowhunter muttered, rolling her eyes.

Boisterous laughs and vulgar compliments were thrown at the Shadowhunter from who she assumed was the jackass' friends.

"Oh come on, babe! Have a little fun! Join us." the earlier idiot said, sounding slightly more sober and more closer.

A clammy, meaty hand clapped onto her shoulder, squeezing. The Shadowhunter gritted her teeth, cursing mentally. She reached up, grabbing the mundane's hand and ducked out from under his grip. She twisted his arm, kicked the back of his knee, making the mundane crumble to the ground. She pinned him to the ground by straddling his hips, digging her knees painfully into his sides.

You didn't need to have Shadowhunter training to do what she had done. It was pure instinct like how if someone saw her walking, it should be instinct to leave her alone. And it was obvious this ass didn't have instinct or the urge for self preservation.