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AliNovel > The Mortal Instruments City Of Bones > Chapter 9

Chapter 9

    Chapter 9


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    “Absolutely,” Alec agreed. “I could get a message to my


    father—”


    “She’s not a mundane,” Jace said quietly.


    Hodge’s eyebrows shot back up to his hairline and


    stayed there. Alec, caught in the middle of a sentence,


    choked with surprise. In the sudden silence ry could


    hear the sound of Hugo’s wings rustling. “But I am,” she


    said.


    “No,” said Jace. “You aren’t.” He turned to Hodge, and


    ry saw the slight movement of his throat as he


    swallowed. She found this glimpse of his nervousness


    oddly reassuring. “That night—there were Du’sien


    demons, dressed like police officers. We had to get past


    them. ry was too weak to run, and there wasn’t time


    to hide—she would have died. So I used my stele—put


    a mendelin rune on the inside of her arm. I thought—”


    “Are you out of your mind?” Hodge mmed his hand


    down on top of the desk so hard that ry thought the


    wood might crack. “You know what the Law says about


    cing Marks on mundanes! You—you of all people


    ought to know better!”


    “But it worked,” said Jace. “ry, show them your arm.”


    With a baffled nce in Jace’s direction, she held out


    her bare arm. She remembered looking down at it that


    night in the alley, thinking how vulnerable it seemed.


    Now, just below the crease of her wrist, she could see


    three faint ovepping circles, the lines as faint as the


    memory of a scar that had faded with the passage of


    years. “See, it’s almost gone,” Jace said. “It didn’t hurt


    her at all.”


    “That’s not the point.” Hodge could barely control his


    anger. “You could have turned her into a Forsaken.”


    Two bright spots of color burned high up on Alec’s


    cheekbones. “I can’t believe you, Jace. Only


    Shadowhunters can receive Covenant Marks—they kill


    mundanes—”


    “She’s not a mundane. Haven’t you been listening? It


    exins why she could see us. She must have ve


    blood.”


    ry lowered her arm, feeling suddenly cold. “But I


    don’t. I couldn’t.”


    “You must,” Jace said, without looking at her. “If you


    didn’t, that Mark I made on your arm …”


    “That’s enough, Jace,” said Hodge, the displeasure


    clear in his voice. “There’s no need to frighten her


    further.”


    “But I was right, wasn’t I? It exins what happened to


    her mother, too. If she was a Shadowhunter in exile, she


    might well have Downworld enemies.”


    “My mother wasn’t a Shadowhunter!”


    “Your father, then,” Jace said. “What about him?”


    ry returned his gaze with a t stare. “He died.


    Before I was born.”


    Jace flinched, almost imperceptibly. It was Alec who


    spoke. “It’s possible,” he said uncertainly. “If her father


    were a Shadowhunter, and her mother a mundane—


    well, we all know it’s against the Law to marry a mundie.


    Maybe they were in hiding.”


    “My mother would have told me,” ry said, although


    she thought of theck of more than one photo of her


    father, the way her mother never spoke of him, and


    knew that it wasn’t true.


    “Not necessarily,” said Jace. “We all have secrets.”


    “Luke,” ry said. “Our friend. He would know.” With


    the thought of Luke came a sh of guilt and horror. “It’s


    been three days—he must be frantic. Can I call him? Is


    there a phone?” She turned to Jace. “Please.”


    Jace hesitated, looking at Hodge, who nodded and


    moved aside from the desk. Behind him was a globe,


    made of beaten brass, that didn’t look quite like other


    globes she had seen; there was something subtly


    strange about the shape of the countries and continents.


    Next to the globe was an old-fashioned ck telephone


    with a silver rotary dial. ry lifted it to her ear, the


    familiar dial tone washing over her like soothing water.


    Luke picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”


    “Luke!” She sagged against the desk. “It’s me. It’s


    ry.”


    “ry.” She could hear the relief in his voice, along with


    something else she couldn’t quite identify. “You’re all


    right?”


    “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you before.


    Luke, my mom—”


    “I know. The police were here.”


    “Then you haven’t heard from her.” Any vestigial hope


    that her mother had fled the house and hidden


    somewhere disappeared. There was no way she


    wouldn’t have contacted Luke. “What did the police


    say?”


    “Just that she was missing.” ry thought of the


    policewoman with her skeletal hand, and shivered.


    “Where are you?”


    “I’m in the city,” ry said. “I don’t know where exactly.


    With some friends. My wallet’s gone, though. If you’ve


    got some cash, I could take a cab to your ce—”


    “No,” he said shortly.


    The phone slipped in her sweaty hand. She caught it.


    “What?”


    “No,” he said. “It’s too dangerous. You can’te here.”


    “We could call—”


    “Look.” His voice was hard. “Whatever your mother’s


    gotten herself mixed up in, it’s nothing to do with me.


    You’re better off where you are.”


    “But I don’t want to stay here.” She heard the whine in


    her voice, like a child’s. “I don’t know these people. You


    —”


    “I’m not your father, ry. I’ve told you that before.”


    Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just


    —”


    “Don’t call me for favors again,” he said. “I’ve got my


    own problems; I don’t need to be bothered with yours,”


    he added, and hung up the phone.


    She stood and stared at the receiver, the dial tone


    buzzing in her ear like a big ugly wasp. She dialed


    Luke’s number again, waited. This time it went to voice


    mail. She banged the phone down, her hands trembling.


    Jace was leaning against the armrest of Alec’s chair,


    watching her. “I take it he wasn’t happy to hear from


    you?”


    ry’s heart felt as if it had shrunk down to the size of a


    walnut: a tiny, hard stone in her chest. I will not cry, she


    thought. Not in front of these people.


    “I think I’d like to have a talk with ry,” said Hodge.


    “Alone,” he added firmly, seeing Jace’s expression.


    Alec stood up. “Fine. We’ll leave you to it.”


    “That’s hardly fair,” Jace objected. “I’m the one who


    found her. I’m the one who saved her life! You want me


    here, don’t you?” he appealed, turning to ry.


    ry looked away, knowing that if she opened her


    mouth, she’d start to cry. As if from a distance, she


    heard Alecugh.


    “Not everyone wants you all the time, Jace,” he said.


    “Don’t be ridiculous,” she heard Jace say, but he


    sounded disappointed. “Fine, then. We’ll be in the


    weapons room.”


    The door closed behind them with a definitive click.


    ry’s eyes were stinging the way they did when she


    tried to hold tears back for too long. Hodge loomed up in


    front of her, a fussing gray blur. “Sit down,” he said.


    “Here, on the couch.”


    She sank gratefully onto the soft cushions. Her cheeks


    were wet. She reached up to brush the tears away,


    blinking. “I don’t cry much usually,” she found herself


    saying. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’ll be all right in a


    minute.”


    “Most people don’t cry when they’re upset or frightened,


    but rather when they’re frustrated. Your frustration is


    understandable. You’ve been through a most trying


    time.”


    “Trying?” ry wiped her eyes on the hem of Isabelle’s


    shirt. “You could say that.”


    Hodge pulled the chair out from behind the desk,


    dragging it over so that he could sit facing her. His eyes,


    she saw, were gray, like his hair and tweed coat, but


    there was kindness in them. “Is there anything I could


    get for you?” he asked. “Something to drink? Some


    tea?”


    “I don’t want tea,” said ry, with muffled force. “I want


    to find my mother. And then I want to find out who took


    her in the first ce, and I want to kill them.”


    “Unfortunately,” said Hodge, “we’re all out of bitter


    revenge at the moment, so it’s either tea or nothing.”


    ry dropped the hem of the shirt—now spotted all


    over with wet blotches—and said, “What am I supposed


    to do, then?”


    “You could start by telling me a little about what


    happened,” Hodge said, rummaging in his pocket. He


    produced a handkerchief—crisply folded—and handed it


    to her. She took it with silent astonishment. She’d never


    before known anyone who carried a handkerchief. “The


    demon you saw in your apartment—was that the first


    such creature you’d ever seen? You had no inkling such


    creatures existed before?”


    ry shook her head, then paused. “One before, but I


    didn’t realize what it was. The first time I saw Jace—”


    “Right, of course, how foolish of me to forget.” Hodge


    nodded. “In Pandemonium. That was the first time?”


    “Yes.”


    “And your mother never mentioned them to you—


    nothing about another world, perhaps, that most people


    cannot see? Did she seem particrly interested in


    myths, fairy tales, legends of the fantastic—”


    “No. She hated all that stuff. She even hated Disney


    movies. She didn’t like me reading manga. She said it


    was childish.”


    Hodge scratched his head. His hair didn’t move. “Most


    peculiar,” he murmured.


    “Not really,” said ry. “My mother wasn’t peculiar. She


    was the most normal person in the world.”


    “Normal people don’t generally find their homes


    ransacked by demons,” Hodge said, not unkindly.


    “Couldn’t it have been a mistake?”


    “If it had been a mistake,” Hodge said, “and you were an


    ordinary girl, you would not have seen the demon that


    attacked you—or if you had, your mind would have


    processed it as something else entirely: a vicious dog,


    even another human being. That you could see it, that it


    spoke to you—”


    “How did you know it spoke to me?”


    “Jace reported that you said ‘it talked.’”


    “It hissed.” ry shivered, remembering. “It talked about


    wanting to eat me, but I think it wasn’t supposed to.”


    “Raveners are generally under the control of a stronger


    demon. They’re not very bright or capable on their own,”


    exined Hodge. “Did it say what its master was


    looking for?”


    ry thought. “It said something about a Valentine, but


    —”


    Hodge jerked upright, so abruptly that Hugo, who had


    been restingfortably on his shoulder,unched


    himself into the air with an irritable caw. “Valentine?”


    “Yes,” ry said. “I heard the same name in


    Pandemonium from the boy—I mean, the demon—”


    “It’s a name we all know,” Hodge said shortly. His voice


    was steady, but she could see a slight tremble in his


    hands. Hugo, back on his shoulder, ruffed his feathers


    uneasily.


    “A demon?”


    “No. Valentine is—was—a Shadowhunter.”


    “A Shadowhunter? Why do you say was?”


    “Because he’s dead,” said Hodge tly. “He’s been dead


    for fifteen years.”


    ry sank back against the couch cushions. Her head


    was throbbing. Maybe she should have gone for that tea


    after all. “Could it be someone else? Someone with the


    same name?”


    Hodge’sugh was a humorless bark. “No. But it could


    have been someone using his name to send a


    message.” He stood up and paced to his desk, hands


    locked behind his back. “And this would be the time to


    do it.”


    “Why now?”


    “Because of the ords.”


    “The peace negotiations? Jace mentioned those. Peace


    with who?”


    “Downworlders,” Hodge murmured. He looked down at


    ry. His mouth was a tight line. “Forgive me,” he said.


    “This must be confusing for you.”


    “You think?”


    Exclusive content from N?velDrama.Org.


    He leaned against the desk, stroking Hugo’s feathers


    absently. “Downworlders are those who share the


    Shadow World with us. We have always lived in an


    uneasy peace with them.”


    “Like vampires, werewolves, and …”


    “The Fair Folk,” Hodge said. “Faeries. And Lilith’s


    children, being half-demon, are warlocks.”


    “So what are you Shadowhunters?”


    “We are sometimes called the Nephilim,” said Hodge.


    “In the Bible they were the offspring of humans and


    angels. The legend of the origin of Shadowhunters is


    that they were created more than a thousand years ago,


    when humans were being overrun by demon invasions


    from other worlds. A warlock summoned the Angel


    Raziel, who mixed some of his own blood with the blood


    of men in a cup, and gave it to those men to drink.


    Those who drank the Angel’s blood became


    Shadowhunters, as did their children and their children’s


    children. The cup thereafter was known as the Mortal


    Cup. Though the legend may not be fact, what is true is


    that through the years, when Shadowhunter ranks were


    depleted, it was always possible to create more


    Shadowhunters using the Cup.”


    “Was always possible?”


    “The Cup is gone,” said Hodge. “Destroyed by


    Valentine, just before he died. He set a great fire and


    burned himself to death along with his family, his wife,


    and his child. Scorched thend ck. No one will build


    there still. They say thend is cursed.”


    “Is it?”


    “Possibly. The ve hands down curses on asion as


    punishment for breaking the Law. Valentine broke the


    greatest Law of all—he took up arms against his fellow


    Shadowhunters and slew them. He and his group, the


    Circle, killed dozens of their brethren along with


    hundreds of Downworlders during thest ords.


    They were only barely defeated.”


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