Lena Fairchild has given everything and more for the Shadow World. She's died and sacrificed everything she has in life just to make sure the people she cares for survive. That they will live happily. Why do you think the angels favor her so? It's n...
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I was eating breakfast with Clary, Jace, and Alec in the cafeteria. It was granola with a little milk. It was very bland, but I didn't want anything extravagant.
"Alec," Izzy came down the stairs. "You have to come upstairs."
"Why?" He asked.
"Mom and Dad are here," She explained her eyes slightly widening.
"What? What are they doing here?" Alec shot up moving for the stairs.
He just left his tray full of food at the table. I started to pick small pieces of his pancakes.
"Why are Mayse and Robert here?" Jace finished his oatmeal and went up there with them. I turned to look at Clary.
"Want to hide in your room or mine?"
"Yours," She laughed. I nodded and finished my granola. "Come on."
We went to my room. She was drawing while I was reading. We weren't exactly the best of friends, but I could live with Clary's company. She was quiet for most of the time while I read. It was nice.
"Um, Lena," I lowered my book seeing her holding a mug. Her mouth was open as she stared at the ivory ceramic.
"Cool," I muttered slightly annoyed. I was getting to a good part in my book and she wanted to show me a mug.
"No," She laughed a little her eyes staying wide. I watched her hand go into the paper. The mug disappeared into her sketch paper.
"What the fuck?" I slid off the bed moving to her side. "What?"
"I know!"
"Do it again, I have to see it again," I smiled. She laughed and pulled the mug from the paper and put it back. "Holy fucking shit!" I yelled as I threw my hands in the air.
"I know," She laughed. I started to pace in front of her. I wondered why that ability seemed familiar. "What are you doing?" Her phone kept buzzing.
"Please answer that," I rubbed my forehead. Whoever it was wanted her attention. Badly. She grabbed it. I stared at the paper realizing something was familiar. Clary didn't just get that ability from nowhere. Our mother was a good artist too—holy shit.
"Simon, hey?" She shot up. We haven't heard from him since he ran out of here the other day. "Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Clary!" I grabbed her arm. "I know where the cup is! I know where the cup is."
"What?" She asked. "Where?"
"Mom hand-painted a set of tarot cards for Dot. Do you remember—."
"The cup," She whispered. I nodded. "Simon meet us at our usual spot." I grabbed her hand as she grabbed her bag both of us slipping out of the room. "Where are we going to get out?"
