The Keepers: Earth, Iron, and Blood ~A Shadowhunters Fanfiction ~

Chapter Two

The bus comes to a stop a block away from my apartment. I quickly scurry off and dart down the sidewalk. I can't stand walking through groups of people, especially when I can see some of their true faces. Over the years, I've become more and more uneasy with the idea of still being able to see through the Glamours. The more I live in the mundane world, I lose my tolerance to not get sick when I see a demon out on the streets. Part of me wants to run and hide and the other part of me wants to slay it right where it stands because that is what I've known for years. I can't exactly kill it with other people around; I don't think people will understand when I try to explain to them that it was a demon and I did it for the better of us all. I'm not invisible and I can't take any chances. I gave up my Glamour a long time ago. I know there is an Institute here, they can take care of it.

I ease myself up the stairs to my door. I live in a split-level building. I've got the top floor, which, of course, is the smallest. The first floor is an old, ran down Deli, the second floor is an apartment, and then there's me. I can't complain too much; the rent is cheap. If it wasn't for that, I would've had to seek shelter from either the Institute or a Downworlder, and I wanted neither. Since I've got a bit of warlock blood in me, I can swing from between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders without too much fuss. I like handling things alone though. I don't want to have to rely on anyone to house me and I know the Institute wouldn't like having a "retired" Nephilim staying with them. I gave up my membership card, so I lost that support. I doubt the welcome would be warm. Not only is it frowned upon, but I'm pretty sure I've become a disgrace to my family name. Oh well, sue me.

I fling myself against my bed in my musty bedroom. I've begged the landlord to let me repaint, but he still hasn't given me permission. The walls are a dirty-looking gray. This place has no warmth to it, it's just cold. The heater works, but it's never felt warm. The feeling I get here reminds me of the feeling I get when I'm at the College. It's just an uneasy sensation, almost like there's something behind you at all times. If there was something, I would be able to see it. At least, I should be able to see it. I wish I knew what it was, but I just try to ignore it. I went through something tragic as a child, maybe it just messed me up in the head. I roll onto my back and look up at the white ceiling. There's a ceiling fan above the bed that needs to be cleaned, but I just can't reach it. I don't have a stepladder and I'm not that tall. I sigh to myself, wondering what the rest of my life may be like. Family, job, normal life. But, can I really have a normal life? I mean, my kids will have abilities and will be of my bloodline. I can't keep that from them, not forever at least. Not unless I want to involve magic and that is something I don't want to do. Magic has caused enough problems in the world already and I don't want to add to it. I try to just take things one day at a time. I've given many thoughts about returning and asking for my membership card back, but I left for a reason. I mean, I left. I'd be a fool to go back and throw myself back into the darkness that I crawled out of. The only thing that I could focus on was the next hunt, the next attack. I didn't want that for the rest of my life. Not only that, but it was a rogue Shadowhunter that killed my grandparents. Somewhere, I hold a grudge towards all of them. All of them. I know that they would've wanted me to be happy and that is what I'm trying to do. I've thought about trying to find my parents, but what's the point? Obviously, they haven't tried to find me. There's only one Nephilim family with my last name. I wouldn't be that hard to find since I never changed it. I wanted to keep it to give myself a bit of an edge on others, but in case anyone ever wanted to actually find me. As of right now, I've heard from no one from my past. I guess it's better that way. It's better to keep things separate.

I'm home for the night, might as well get comfortable. I shrug out of my hoodie, remove and fling my bra onto the chair on the other side of the room, put on a tank-top, and change into my night-shorts. Small, almost silver scars cover most of my body. Also hard to explain to someone. It's just another reminder. I look at myself in the mirror that is on the other side of the room. I can see my first rune on my shoulder, the one that my Grandfather did. I smile a bit to myself, thinking back on it. I complained while he was doing it and he never told me to buck up and deal with the pain. He was comforting and understanding. He never pushed me into anything that I didn't want to do. It took me awhile to be comfortable with the idea of handling any kind of a weapon and he waited until I was ready. I got my first knife for my eighth birthday. It was a small dagger. Red gemstones lined the handle and it had my initials engraved into it. I still have it. I think of it more as a good luck charm rather than a weapon. It's always on me, just in case I need it. Just because I gave up the life doesn't mean I gave up defending myself. I haven't lost all of my touch, I still know how to bring someone, or something, down. I might not be as fast as I used to be but I can make do with what I've got.