ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴʟʏ ꜰɪʀᴇ ~ ᴛᴍɪ

Chapter 3 - The Circle of Raziel

The kitchen was enormous and unlike the rest of the Institute, it was all modern, with steel counters and glassed-in shelves holding rows of crockery. Next to a red cast-iron stove stood a girl with a round spoon in her hand, her dark hair pinned up on top of her head. Steam was rising from the pot, and ingredients were strewn everywhere—tomatoes, chopped garlic and onions, strings of dark-looking herbs, grated piles of cheese, some shelled peanuts, a handful of olives, and a whole fish, its eye staring glassily upward.

"I'm making soup," The girl said, waving a spoon at Jace. "Are you hungry?" She glanced behind him then, her dark gaze taking in Simon and Allison.

"Oh, my God," she said with finality. "You—" she did a double-take, looking at Allison. Shaking her head, she fastened her gaze on Simon. "You brought in a mundane? Hodge is going to kill you."

"Do that first," Allison muttered, striding towards the girl. The Lightwood Girl, perhaps. "Allison," She offered her name and rumbled through her array of ingredients.

"Isabelle..." Her eyes narrowed. "Are stealing from my—"

"Let her, Izzy," Jace interrupted, glaring at the cat meandering by his legs.

Simon cleared his throat. "I'm Simon," he said looking at Isabelle, not even listening to the conversation.

But Isabelle ignored him." JACE WAYLAND," she said. "Explain yourself."

"I told you to bring me to Alec!" He tried to kick the cat. "Backstabbing Judas."

Church rolled onto his back, purring contentedly.

"Don't blame Church," Isabelle said. "It's not his fault Hodge is going to kill you." She plunged the spoon back into the pot. Allison, finding nothing edible, opted for the block of cheese hidden behind the glassy-eyed fish. She smelled it, with no trace of rotten smell, thankfully.

"I had to bring him," Jace said. "Isabelle—today I saw two of the men who killed my father."

Isabelle's shoulders tightened, but when she turned around, she looked more upset than surprised. "I don't suppose he's one of them?" she asked, pointing her spoon at Simon.

Simon said nothing to this. He was too busy staring at Isabelle, rapt and openmouthed. Isabelle was tall, glamorous, and beautiful. A typical shadowhunter beauty or even a mundane model too. Trying hard not to chuckle, she found some seasoning. She tossed it on her cheese.

"Of course not," Jace said. "Do you think he'd be alive now if he were?"

Isabelle cast an indifferent look at Simon. "I suppose not," she said, absently dropping a piece of fish on the floor. Church fell on it ravenously.

"No wonder he brought us here," said Jace disgustedly. "I can't believe you've been stuffing him with fish again. He's looking distinctly podgy."

"He does not look podgy. Besides, none of the rest of you ever eat anything. I got this recipe from a water sprite at the Chelsea Market. He said it was delicious—"

"If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat," Jace muttered.

Isabelle froze, her spoon poised dangerously. "What did you say?"

"Use this," Allison pushed a kitchen knife towards her, which Isabelle seemed to consider.

Jace edged toward the fridge. "I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat."

"That's what I thought you said." Isabelle returned her attention to the soup. "He won't get so lucky anymore," She offered to Allison.

"My services are yours when that time is nigh," Allison munched on her cheese, relishing the tangy taste. Cheddar. She scored high. "Any more cheese?"