The Angel-Blooded One (Shadowhunters ff)

6 - The Exhibition

Clary

Clary's stomach fluttered with nervous excitement as she stood beside her displayed artwork, the best pieces she had chosen for the end of semester exhibit. One, titled "Wandering Woods," played with luminous blues, purples, and grays, capturing the dance of sunlight filtering through a dense canopy. A woman, seemingly lost in its depths, stood before it. Relief washed over Clary – a potential buyer. As the woman exhaled a soft sigh, Clary approached, a hesitant smile gracing her lips.

"I love this," the woman finally breathed, her gaze lingering on the canvas. "It feels like looking into a dream. Are all your works like that?"

"Mostly. It's like I have these stories inside me, but I can't quite make them out. So the closest I can do is paint how they feel."

The woman offered a warm smile. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

Clary's smile widened as she handed over a business card and a silent thank you. While the scholarship covered the basics, extra income could buy better art supplies. More importantly, it could finance the trip that had become a bit of an obsession. Her research on Oskar Morgenstern, a dead end in most respects, had revealed one crucial detail – Vienna, Austria. The city where he grew up, launched his academic career, and even had a square named after him. Wherever the answers about her mysterious "grandfather" lay, she was convinced Vienna held the key.

The woman drifted off to another exhibit, leaving Clary to scan the room. A lone figure stood out in the center, leaning against a pillar. Not a student from the academy, but not a casual visitor either. A young man, clad in a worn black leather jacket, stood arms crossed, his posture radiating a tense energy. Recognition sparked in Clary's mind, but it was fleeting, a dream half-remembered. Intrigued, she started towards him.

As she neared, the man's body went rigid. He took a wary step back, his eyes widening in surprise. "Sorry," Clary said, her voice gentle, "I didn't mean to startle you."

The man's frown deepened, a furrow etching itself between his brows. "You can see me?" His voice was a low murmur, laced with astonishment.

"Of course I can see you," Clary replied, a touch of confusion creeping into her voice. There was something undeniably strange about this encounter.

The man's gaze held hers for a beat, a mixture of shock and something else – fear? But before she could question it further, he abruptly turned and bolted for the exit, leaving Clary alone. Driven by a compulsion she couldn't explain, Clary broke into a run after him. She raced through the gallery, ignoring startled patrons as she chased the shadow he left behind.

Bursting out of the gallery doors, she scanned the bustling sidewalk. There, at the end of the street, a solitary figure melted into the shadows of a narrow alley.

"Hey!" Clary cried, her voice echoing off the brick walls. The figure paused, then turned slowly, revealing a face etched with something akin to pain.

Her gaze locked onto his. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "No, I don't think so."

"No, I do... I definitely do." Her breath hitched as a wave of something powerful washed over her – a battle, a shared laugh, a searing pain... but the image remained just out of reach.

"Jace," the name tumbled out of her lips, a question hanging in the air.

A hesitant smile bloomed on his face. "Yeah," he murmured, a single word loaded with unspoken longing. "Yeah, I'm Jace."

Clary stared at him, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm Clary," she said but introducing herself felt absurd. It was like greeting a reflection, a missing piece of herself finally slotted back into place. Her gaze drifted to the intricate black lines etched on his neck. Runes, a voice whispered in her mind. Curiosity overcoming apprehension, she reached out, her fingers trembling slightly. "What are these..."

Jace tilted his head ever so slightly, a silent question in his gaze. Tentatively, Clary brushed her fingertips against the cool skin of his chest. A jolt of electricity shot through her and then, in a deafening roar, the dam holding back her memories burst open. The past flooded back in a torrent of vivid scenes, memories both joyous and devastating crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Gasping for breath, Clary crumpled to her knees.

Jace was beside her in a heartbeat. "Clary? What's wrong?" His hand brushed her back, sending another tremor through her.

A choked sound escaped her throat. This was bad, a violation of the Angel's will on a monumental scale. This time, Raziel might not be as forgiving. But Jace...Jace would fight for her, fight the entire world if he had to. She couldn't let him get hurt protecting her. She needed to get away from him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Jace pressed, the panic in his voice growing. With a shaky breath, Clary forced her eyes open and met his gaze. A lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was necessary. "Yeah," she mumbled, forcing a smile that felt frail. "Just a little lightheaded, that's all."

Jace's gaze held hers, searching for a truth she couldn't reveal. The weight of the lie felt suffocating, a physical barrier growing between them. With a strangled sob, she pushed herself to her feet.

"I should... get back inside," she said. Using every ounce of willpower, she turned, leaving Jace kneeling in the dim alleyway, his worried expression burned into her mind. As she fled, a single thought echoed in the desolate landscape of her rediscovered memories: she had to protect him, even if it meant pushing him away. 

***

Clary sprinted back to her apartment, heart hammering against her ribs. Every step felt like a desperate escape, a race against an unknown threat. Reaching her door, she found it ajar, a sliver of light escaping the darkness within. Gripping the familiar weight of the hidden knife in her jacket, Clary crept inside, senses on high alert. A tall figure, clad entirely in black, stood in the center of the room, facing a swirling vortex that shimmered with an otherworldly energy.

The figure turned at the sound of the creaking door. Moonlight bathed his face, revealing surprisingly gentle features. "Clarissa. There's no need for that." He gestured towards the knife clutched in her trembling hand.

"Who are you?" The words tumbled out, laced with suspicion and a sliver of fear.

"Someone here to help you. You need to leave the city. Now."

Confusion clouded Clary's mind. "Leave? Why?"

"Because what just happened..." he began, his voice laced with urgency, "it won't go unnoticed by Raziel. He'll come for you, and anyone close to you."

Clary's breath hitched. Raziel. The memories, the overwhelming flood of emotions – they were a violation of the Angel's will. A cold dread settled in her stomach.

"Who are you?" she repeated.

The man studied her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. His dark eyes, for a fleeting moment, held a flicker of sadness, an emotion that seemed out of place on his stoic face. "You know who I am, Clarissa," he finally said.

"Oskar?"

He offered a curt nod. "Yes. I apologize for the sudden appearance, but tonight has taken an unexpected turn. Please, trust me. We have to get you out of here."

Clary remained rooted to the spot. This stranger, offering escape through a portal to the unknown...it felt reckless, insane. But what other choice did she have? The Institute was out of the question, a risk she wouldn't take with Jace and the others. Where else could she even go?With a trembling sigh, Clary dropped her knife, the metallic click echoing in the tense silence.

 "Alright."

A hint of relief softened Oskar's features. "Good," he said, extending a hand towards her. "Then let's go."