Capítulo 21: ch
Surprisingly, Amenadiel was in the first place Chloe looked: Lux.
The club was different during the daytime. The dancers still danced on their suspended platforms, though the music was more mellow and the dances a tad tamer. The booze still flowed but no one was getting soaked in champagne spray. The lights were still dimmed for that classic Lux ambiance. But it wasn't deafening, and no on offered her molly, and there weren't five dozen models trying to climb Lucifer like a tree as he played the piano.
Amenadiel never struck Chloe as the club-frequenting type, but he could almost always be found sitting at the end of the bar, holding a mostly-full glass of something amber, like he was trying to understand why Lucifer lived this kind of life.
That made two of them.
"Chloe," Amenadiel greeted, smile widening as she slid onto the stool next to his. Every time she ran into him, Chloe was struck by just how different Lucifer was from his brother, and not just in appearance. Amenadiel was so warm, so friendly.
It was impossible not to smile back.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She spared a glance towards Maze, who was behind the bar even though she no longer worked there. "Alone?"
Amenadiel looked at Maze and and Maze rolled her eyes, picking up her drink and sauntering to the opposite end of the bar on perilously high heels.
"What can I do for you, Chloe?"
"I have a couple questions. About your brother."
Amenadiel sighed, heavy and deep. "What has Luci done this time?"
"Actually, for once this isn't about Lucifer. This is about your other brother, Raziel."
The change in Amenadiel was immediate. His friendly smile slipped. He sat up straighter, spine rigid. His eyes darkened.
"What about Raziel?"
"The LAPD has been finding bodies covered in strange tattoos all over the city. It's been going on for weeks, and the bodies are...well...they're torn apart. We can't even get positive ID's on them." Chloe got out her notepad and sketched one of the markings from memory: a simple s-shape with a squiggle running through it. She passed it over to Amenadiel, watched his expression closely. "Lucifer was there at one of the crime scenes. He let it slip that he recognized the markings as the ones Raziel's followers wear."
Amenadiel traced the drawing with his finger, frowning deeply. "Nephilim do indeed mark themselves this way."
There was that word again: Nephilim.
"Could you explain that to me, actually?" Chloe asked, leaning in, ready to take notes. "Lucifer used that word as well: Nephilim. He said it had to do with the children of angels."
"Children in the loosest sense, yes. Raziel blessed a mortal man, Jonathan Shadowhunter, with the ability to wield the divine many centuries ago, much to everyone's disapproval. All of his progeny were similarly blessed."
"But that's impossible because Raziel's your brother and therefore can't be any older than forty."
Amenadiel didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. His silence spoke for itself, a wordless condemnation.
Wow, these people were truly insane.
"I though Lucifer was just doing his normal overly-dramatic shtick, but if what you're saying is true..." Chloe trailed off, disturbed. "Do these people really think they're some kind of divine, alien race?"
"That is what they believe," Amenadiel said carefully, still focused on the drawing in front of him. "They believe these runes to be the language of the angels. Each one holds a meaning, and a power."
"What does this one mean?"
"Deflect." He traced the shape again, this time with purpose. "It is a sort of protection. A ward against bodily harm."
"Didn't help this guy any."
"No, it did not." Amenadiel's mouth was set in a grim line. "Lucifer and I received disturbing news recently. Our brother, Ithuriel, was found in the middle of a forest with his heart ripped out."
Chloe's stomach sunk like a rock.
"Oh my God, Amenadiel. I'm so sorry. I had no idea - "
"Do not be sorry, Chloe. It was not your fault," Amenadiel reassured, always so compassionate even when talking about the loss of a brother. How did he do it? He pushed her notepad back to her. "You say these Nephilim were torn apart. Was there anything missing?"
"I don't think so, but I can have the coroner double check."
Amenadiel hummed, thinking. "For a moment, when I first got the news, I wondered if Raziel and Ithuriel had a falling out."
"Brother against brother?" The thought was so ludicrous that Chloe hadn't entertained it. "Why would Raziel do that?"
"He wouldn't," Amenadiel said with full confidence. Frustration and confusion were building within him, full of the need to see sense in the madness, just like Chloe. "As soon as I thought it, I dismissed it. Raziel and Ithuriel were as close as two brothers could be. From the moment they were created, they flew perfect circles around each other."
Metaphors aside, Chloe got the picture. What was it about this family and their metaphors?
"So you think someone else killed Ithuriel?"
"That is my fear."
"And that person might also be the one killing all Raziel's followers?"
"That would make the most sense, yes." Amendiel stroked his chin, a pensive shadow crossing his brow. "But who? Raziel is beloved by his children, revered even."
"I'm working on that."
Chloe had hoped that her talk with Amenadiel would give her all the answers she needed to close the case. All she got instead were more questions, both about the case and Lucifer's peculiar upbringing.
"Chloe, if you are chasing after Raziel then that means you are entering a world of which even I know very little," Amenadiel said gravely, concern etched in his dark eyes. "Perhaps it would be best to let Lucifer and I handle this."
From anyone else, Chloe would take that as a warning. As a challenge. As a 'leave this alone and let the big boys handle it'. But this was Amenadiel, the gentle giant. He was afraid Chloe was going to get hurt.
"You know I can't do that."
Like she would hand off anything into Lucifer's hand, least of all a case he was far too close to. Maybe she was too close to this case, too. Maybe she was flying a little too close to the sun for her liking. But nothing about this case made sense, and that was when Chloe did her best work.
"You don't want to hang out with Nephilim, Decker. Trust me," Maze said from over the bar, helping herself to more of Lucifer's liquor. "All they're good for is screwing and fighting, and they're not even that good at the screwing part."
"Sounds like your kind of people, Maze."
Maze snorted and swallowed her drink in one gulp. "Nah. They don't get along with my kind."
"Your kind?"
"Demons," Maze hissed, her voice going dark and low, and while the playful glint lingered in her eyes, there was something serious in there as well.
Chloe felt outrage course through her, swift and powerful.
Looking back on the case, all the victims were white and mostly male. It was entirely possible that, combined with the divine race aspect, Raziel had made a cult of xenophobic fanatics intent on continuing the Aryan race. How horrible it must have been for Amenadiel to grow up with a brother who thought such terrible things about him just because of the color of his skin. People like that made Chloe sick.
"You're not a demon, Maze," Chloe replied, putting her whole chest into it so that Maze wouldn't go on thinking she was something other just because she didn't have pale skin and blue eyes. "Even if you might act like one."
That made Maze laugh, a throaty chuckle that came mostly out her nose. She slunk off the bar and poured herself another drink.
"See you at home, Decker."
"Alexander Gideon Lightwood what were you thinking?" Maryse cried, pacing the office back and forth, wearing tracks into the carpet with her sharp heels.
Ten hours of house arrest and two hours into this never-ending lecture, and Alec was thinking he should have just listened to Magnus.
This is a bad idea, Magnus had said while helping them plan the most strategic place to portal. Are you sure you want to do this?
Was it risky going after the Malachai Configuration? Yes. Was it a risk Alec was willing to take? Yes. Was it a plan he should have thought through a little better? Maybe. Could he have anticipated the bloodbath Jace would bring right to his doorstep? Not at all. He was still convinced he would have gotten away with it, that the heist would have been a success and they wouldn't have been detected had Jace not thrown a wrench into things. But hell, Alec had to try. Jace was his brother. Jace was half his soul. To give up on Jace...like he gave up on Izzy...
You didn't give up on Izzy, he could hear Magnus say.
But what else could Alec call it? Weeks passed and he still hadn't been able to find out where his sister had gone. Aldertree left him nothing, not a room number, a forwarding telephone, an address to write. Nothing. It was like Izzy was a prisoner, not a patient.
Logically, Alec knew Izzy was both. She was arrested, after all. He was one of the very few who knew that truth. Everyone else in the Institute just thought she had some strange, exotic illness contracted from her fake mission to Shanghai. The only people who knew Aldertree took her away in handcuffs were either in this room with him, or about to be arrested themselves.
"I was thinking I needed to save Jace."
"Jace may as well be past the point of saving. The Clave has orders to engage and execute The Owl." Alec's head snapped up to meet his mother's gaze, praying this was some kind of sick joke, but all he found was a resigned stoicalness. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but Jace has gone too far this time."
"It's not his fault!" Alec turned to his father, desperate. "He's my parabatai! You of all people know how it feels to lose that connection. Are you really willing to let a part of me die too?"
"He killed Inquisitor Herondale, his own grandmother, in cold blood, along with a dozen guards and innocent bystanders," Robert answered calmly, cooly. As if Jace meant nothing to him. And maybe he didn't. Jace was only his adopted son after all. Look at how he treated his biological one. "This is past the point of what we want, son."
Alec shook his head. They'd all gone mad.
"I won't allow this hunt to happen."
"You have no power to stop it," Maryse said, then heaved out a sigh. Like she'd rather pull teeth than deliver the news. "They're stripping you of your position as Head of Institute."
"What?" Alec was speechless, and hurt, and angry. "They can't do that - "
"They can, and they have. The Clave has placed me in charge as Interim Head of Institute until they can find someone suitable for the role. An internal investigation is being run on all Clave documents filed during your tenure, since they found you fabricated Isabelle's mission reports from Shanghai." That hit Alec like a punch to the gut. They would rather have his mother, a perviously de-runed traitor, running the Institute him, the one person willing to do anything to help a fellow Shadowhunter and stop Lilith.
Maryse gave Alec a pitying look, like this was hurting her as much as it was hurting him. "You broke so many rules, Alexander. You're lucky they didn't strip you of your runes."
"I bet you'd like that," Alec spat, unable to stop the tide of desperation and anger in his blood. "That way you wouldn't have to be the disgraced Lightwood anymore."
"Alexander," Robert gasped, outraged that his son would say such a thing.
But Robert hadn't really known his son very well in a long time. Alec didn't take things lying down anymore. And if the Clave thought he was going to roll over and lick his wounds and fall in line, then they had another thing coming.
"Alec is right, this isn't Jace's fault!" Clary pleaded, tears in her eyes. Oh, right. She was there, too. His accomplice in illegally acquiring a weapon of mass destruction. Wisely, she'd stayed out of the family drama, until now. "It's mine. It's all my fault! Please don't punish Jace or Alec for my mistake."
Maryse narrowed her gaze. "Clary what on Earth are you talking about?"
"Clary, don't - "
"I'm the one who made Jace the way he is," Clary confessed, tears streaming down her cheeks now. "He died fighting Valentine, and I - I made the wish. I asked Raziel to bring him back. But he came back wrong, and I'm so, so sorry...I just couldn't lose him..."
"You used the wish," Maryse echoed, shocked and livid all at once. She shared a disbelieving look at Robert, then back down to the sobbing redhead. "Our single wish, our only lifeline to the Angel?"
"Yes." Clary sniffled, then held her head high, fire in her eyes. "And I'd do it again."
That...that was not the right thing to say.
Alec cursed.
Maryse reared back, all compassion gone.
"From the moment you set foot in our world, you have violated every sacred rule we hold dear. You have spat in the face of tradition and cast our world into chaos and discord. You have brought evil into our homes and unleashed Lilith's wrath into the world of Mundanes." Maryse's bottom lip wobbled with the force of her contempt. Robert scowled at her side. "The Clave will hear about this. Immediately."
"Guards!" Robert shouted, and immediately two Shadowhunter answered the call. "Take Miss Fairchild to the City of Bones. She will be kept there until we hear news about a trial."
The guards were rougher than necessary, no doubt having overheard Clary's massive transgression. They yanked her out of the office by the upper arms. It spoke volumes about Clary's mental state that she didn't fight them. She didn't kick or scream. She let them lead her down the halls of the Institute and into the unknown.
If only Alec could be so brave about his own fate.
"Did you know? About this?" Maryse demanded, accusatory in a way Alec had not heard in so long. And here he thought she was on her way to being a better mother and a better person. Apparently all it took a was a couple hours back in a seat of power with all her runes on display to drawn out the bad behavior. He was a fool to think anything could change, that their relationship could ever be salvaged.
"Clary saved Jace's life. Something you clearly care nothing about."
"Clary created a monster, and that monster is threatening to kill us all."
Maryse spoke to him as if he were a child, as if he knew nothing, as if he hadn't faced these wraiths head-on or had to hold his brother while he held a knife to his own throat, ready to end it all. Alec knew all too well the threats that faced him today, yesterday, every day of his miserable existence. He simply prioritized saving Jace's life more. Maybe that made him selfish. Maybe that made him unfit to lead an Institute. But that didn't made him a bad person. Alec had more humanity in his little finger than both his parents did in their entire bodies in that moment, of that he was certain.
"What will happen to her?"
"Clary's fate is in the hands of the Clave now, Angel help her soul," Maryse spat. Then, she leaned back in the large, wing-backed chair that was his this morning and turned her face from him, like she couldn't stand the sight of him any longer. "Go. Get out of my office."
Alec didn't need to be told twice.
The door slammed shut behind him and the metallic click of a lock soon followed. If he wanted, Alec could activate his rune, press his ear to the door, and listen to the muffled voices on the other side. He could collect their secrets and use them for his own gain. Or maybe he would hear more upsetting things, like how he was a disappointment to the family or how Jace deserved to die or how Clary would never be released from her prison.
The only person left to turn to was Magnus, and he was so withdrawn this morning, so upset and would not tell Alec why. Perhaps Magnus was upset at him for following through with this insane plan. Perhaps it was something else. Whatever preyed on Magnus's mind, Alec would find out soon enough. He was on his way to the apartment now, the only home he had left.
Even that home was empty when Alec arrived, Magnus's overpowering presence nowhere to be found. There were dishes in the sink and potions half-created on the table. Stale magic hung in the air. Magnus had been gone for some time, no note as to when he'd be back.
Hell of a time to take a vacation.
Alec ambled over to the living room, to the credenza by the window and pulled out a crystal decanter of something that smelled strong. He poured more than necessary and took a seat. Drinking was not Alec's thing. He still knew woefully little about the art, and he didn't care for the taste, but it reminded of him of Magnus, and that was the only reason he swallowed the whiskey down and chased it with another.
Cheers to a miserable day. A miserable week. A miserable month.
Cheers to you, Magnus Bane.
Three drinks in to a mountain of misery, Alec was forced to admit he was well and truly alone.
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