The Shadow of an Angel // JACE WAYLAND (ON HOLD)

VIII

A knock on my door aroused me sometime the next day. I saw a hazy vision of Izzy gently pushing the door open, what looked like a hesitant smile on her face as she glanced over me.

"How are you feeling?"

I let my eyes do the talking as I raised an eyebrow before flopping over on my stomach and shoving my head into the pillow.

A soft chuckle from behind me. "Eli made you an omelet, but I thought it better for me to bring it to you. The Angel only knows what you two would do if you met behind closed doors."

I turned my face, still buried in the pillow, towards Izzy– who did indeed have an omelet– my eyes wide at what she'd just proposed. She seemed to realize too, as her own, chocolate brown eyes widened, and she held her hand out. "Wait– that's– that is not what I–"

I didn't give her a chance to finish as I began to laugh hysterically, the sound slightly muffled by the pillow. Izzy joined me, setting the omelet down on my nightstand before hopping on the bed beside me. A smile was was still wide on her face as she said, "I meant that you two usually end up scheming something, and it never goes well."

I thought back to last night. It wasn't really a scheme, but more of a silent agreement of what he knew I needed to do. Still, it ended up– well, it went. But I just shook my head, "You don't know that."

Izzy only rolled her eyes, and reached over to grab the plate. "Whatever," She sighed, shoving the dish under my nose. "Eat this. You're starting to get skinnier than me, and that is very unokay."

"Jealous?" I teased, but picked up the fork and dug into the omelet.

She scrunch her nose. "Of your pale, weak figure? Give me a break." I nudged her with my arm, but she was already perked up, her brain moved on to a different subject. "Speaking of your scrawny self, Eli ordered you to be in the training room in fifteen minutes. But...well, to put it delicately, you look like garbage."

I shot her a flat look.

"–bag made of gold?" She added with a bat of her eye lashes and a sheepish smile.

I only groaned an incoherent response and stood, pushing the plate back towards her as I trekked towards the mirror in my en-suite bathroom. Izzy spoke the truth, I realized, as I caught sight of my reflection. What stared back looked like a shell of what had been that girl that had taken down Circle members with just a few thoughts. My hair was a thin rat's nest atop my head, my dull, hazel eyes seemed to be sunken in, the rest of my eerily pale face hollowed out.

Or maybe it was just from staying in a damn cage for a month.

I heard Izzy stand from behind me and her footsteps as she made her way towards me. I met her gaze through the mirror, a frown upon my face. She only rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand, dragging me back to the bed.

"Okay, you know what you need?"

"A bottle of vodka?"

She shot me a vexed look before disappearing into my bathroom, shuffled around in some drawers, and finally reemerged with a brush. "A makeover. I'm going to get Clary to get you some Aspirin and some makeup; stay there."

"Yes ma'am," I sighed, falling back on my bed so I was staring at the ceiling above me. This place really needed some fans.

"Oh, girl."

My eyes caught a flash of red hair as my door opened five minutes later. I didn't bother taking the time or breath to acknowledge Clary as she walked in with a bag of makeup– probably from Izzy's room– in one hand and a bottle of Aspirin in the other. She chucked the bottle at me, just missing my head and landing on the bed with a rattle. I didn't flinch.