Drapetomania | Shadowhunters [Jace Wayland]

05; Werewolves

"Well, humans--mundanes, as you would call them--have real issues," Tris explained to Isabelle, sitting opposite to her on Isabelle's bed. Tris had been explaining what mundane lifestyle was like to the curious Lightwood.

"Issues?" Isabelle echoed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Could be anything, really. Depression, addiction to alcohol, drugs, et cetera," Tris answered. "It's a sad life."

"Well, it isn't anymore, since you're with me," Isabelle winked at the brunette, making Tris laugh. She knew she found good friends here, even if she didn't expect anyone who would be interested in being friends with her.

"Of course," Tris agreed. "But now that I'm here, in a world I know so little about--"

"You want to know more?" Isabelle ended her sentence. Tris nodded. Isabelle smiled, pulling her legs up on the bed and stretching her arms towards her bedside table and grabbing a book that was set over there. She passed it to Tris, who took and read the cover: The Shadowhunter Codex.

"What is this, Shadowhunter 101?" Tris asked, scoffing.

Isabelle nodded, catching Tris by surprise. "It's a book for understanding what a Shadowhunter is, the oaths, treasury, demonology, Downworld and Angels and Men. It'll explain a lot."

"I think Clary should be getting this," Tris laughed lightly, looking at the Angel rising from the water in the cover of the book, a sword and a cup in each hand and beautiful wings decorating its back.

"Ah," said Isabelle. "Is this the 'My friend's a Shadowhunter, so she needs this, this, this and that'?"

"No," Tris said quickly. "It's just that Clary is. . ."

"What? A Shadowhunter?" Isabelle rolled her eyes. "So? Even mundanes can be Shadowhunters."

"How?" Tris asked, intruiged.

"Ascension," Isabelle answered. "It's when mundanes become Shadowhunters by drinking from the Mortal Cup."

"Well, I guess that's not happening any time soon," Tris mumbled, remembering that the Mortal Cup was missing, and Clary's father was looking for it.

▪▪▪

Tris and Isabelle walked towards the main area of the Institute, arms linked together. Tris noticed a woman, probably in her late thirties or early forties, but she might've been wrong. The woman wore a blue, professional looking dress, her hair was black and tied in a long, sleek ponytail.

She turned around to see the pair. "Isabelle," she said, almost with distaste. Isabelle looked away, angry. "Dressed to impress, I see. And you've been playing with the family heirlooms."

"Hi, I'm Clary Fray," the redhead introduced herself.

"Clary Fairchild," said the woman. "You look just like your mother. We know all about you in Idris."