Chapter 21 – The Rune of Horror

The angel stared at me with huge golden eyes and I felt like all my emotions were reflected in them. It was as if I could see into the deepest corners of my soul.

Only a hiss, which raised the hairs on the back of my neck, drew my attention back to the present. The angel was still trapped in the rune circle. For some reason I can't explain, he couldn't free himself. Shouldn't an angel be able to do that?

The blond Shadowhunter had raised himself to his full height in front of the angel and a spiteful laugh erupted in his throat. His laughter was the only sound that filled the cave. Even the beings held behind bars remained so silent that one could hear every faint sound of breathing. Their silence screamed the severity of this crime. If even an angel wasn't safe from this man, was anyone really safe?

My gaze was fixed on the angel. He met my gaze with his golden impenetrable eyes. I couldn't see any emotion in them. As if he didn't care that he was locked up here. His demeanor still filled me with such awe that I could barely manage a reproachful look. Like the Shadowhunter, the angel had positioned himself imperiously and next to him the blond man seemed tiny. However, unlike the Shadowhunter, the angel had not drawn his sword. It rested in the golden scabbard on his weapon belt. To this day I had always wondered why angels even carried weapons. I had thought them invincible beings.

"Ithuriel," the Shadowhunter spoke, raising his head to look the angel in the face. There wasn't a hint of megalomania in his eyes, as if he actually meant all of this seriously. "You probably didn't foresee this turn of events. But I need heavenly help."

The angel, whose name appeared to be Ithuriel, looked down at the Shadowhunter without really paying attention. His demeanor oozed arrogance. For a moment, Ithuriel and the Shadowhunter looked so alike that I was speechless. Nothing about Ithuriel's appearance gave the impression that he would dwell on the Shadowhunter any time soon.

"I will need your blood," the Shadowhunter continued, then looked at the seraph blade in his hand, the angel's blood still clinging to the tip. "You don't have to worry, it's in good hands with me. It will be of great benefit to me and my people." This way of speaking sounded so familiar that I wrapped my arms around my body in a shivering gesture. It was like a premonition far away that you didn't know exactly why you had it.

The angel jerked its head to the side and stared straight into my eyes again. This time I took the step towards him, and I managed to break free for just a moment from the invisible bonds that had restrained my legs. But then I heard his voice in my head and stopped dead in my tracks.

Clarissa. I made my presence felt in your mind a little while ago. I'm calling you because I need your help.

A gasp ran through my body, and I almost fell forward. I jerked my head up and breathed for air. My throat didn't want to make a sound, it felt like it was constricted. I had no choice but to nod. The image of an abandoned hallway popped into my mind's eye, and I knew Ithuriel sent this to me. It took me a few moments to realize that this was the New York Institute. Then the scenery became more familiar to me. The only picture of the angel on the wall. The caption that had been written beneath it in curly letters: Ithuriel. The angel had already called me once and now he needed my help.

I stopped. "Help for what?" I quickly peered over to the warlock closest to me. But he didn't seem to have heard anything, nor did the Shadowhunter who was still a few meters away from Ithuriel. Both seemed to be in a trance, as if the angel had stopped time.

You are in my memory, none of this is really happening right now. It happened eighteen years ago. The Shadowhunter, look him in the face. You don't recognize him because I veiled him with magic glamour. Ithuriel pointed his finger at the blonde Shadowhunter, and I followed his gaze. As I watched his face, something suddenly shimmered in the air as the angel dissolved the glamour. My heart jumped. Your mother told you the story. This is your father, Clarissa, and he's about to make a fatal mistake.

"But" I stammered, actually having the guts to interrupt an angel. "How is that linked to me? I can't undo it."

You are his daughter Almost everyone thinks you're a traitor. It's in your blood. But you also carry a small part of me in you. You have a gift that Valentine Morgenstern will want to control at all costs. This gift will take shape, soon. But right now, you're under a lot of pressure.

"Gift? What gift? So does the angelic blood have an effect on me after all?" I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't have much time left to get answers to my questions. His words buzzed in my head like autumn leaves blown indiscriminately by a strong wind.

Angelic blood has always had an effect on you, even if you didn't always feel it.

"Please tell me what to do. How am I supposed to be of any help to you?"

You must be able to use this gift. You alone are responsible for what you use it for. Many will be interested. Be prudent, Clarissa Morgenstern, and act wisely. Don't make my inheritance your father's inheritance.

I couldn't help but gape at the angel. His words made no sense, I didn't understand their meaning. His inheritance? I carried his inheritance within me? Ithuriel turned to my father, a fierce look in his eyes and the usually liquid gold seemed frozen. I immediately thought of Jace. He'd given me exactly the same look when we first met.

"I won't be able to defend myself against him," it slipped from my lips. "He's too powerful."

Valentine raised his left hand, turned to the warlock and nodded. The figure beneath the long dark cloak took a step forward, leaned in Ithuriel's direction, and began speaking in a demon tongue. Was it my imagination, or could I see a smirk in the shadows of his hood?

You are not alone, Clarissa. Prove to the Shadowhunter community who you really are. Show the Lightwoods who you really are, and they will support you.

"But Jace ..." Sparks flew from the warlock's palms. Ithuriel flinched from the sparks as if any of them could sear his skin. The rune-circle around him shone with a glare and a moment later he cried out. It was not the usual scream of a mundane. His scream was loud and deep and superhuman. The entire cave shook at the painful sound of his voice, and I saw tiny stones fall from the ceiling.

Ithuriel doubled over and fell to his knees. My father started to grin. His face twisted into an arrogant expression. He was so much younger than now and yet nothing about him seemed to have changed, like he hadn't learned a bit over the years.

The agonized scream of Ithuriel made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I felt an oppressive feeling in my chest. Even though I knew that none of this was actually happening, I tried to lunge at him. But my legs were caught again in the invisible nooses that wound around my feet.

I wanted to say something, but an invisible wire laced itself around my throat, tying it tighter and tighter, so that I could hardly breathe. "Ithuriel!"

But Ithuriel didn't seem to notice me anymore. The rune-circle shone with such a glare that I had to put my hand to my eyes to avoid burning my retinas. I blinked and turned my head to the side, and then I spotted it. It was a single rune emblazoned on the back of Ithuriel's hand. Ithuriel had his left hand raised and the back was pointing straight in my direction, the rune just falling into view without being swallowed up by the roaring light of the rune-circle.

I knew Ithuriel held out his hand to me on purpose, for I had never seen the rune before, and it meant something. Ithuriel's scream continued, but it had become a background noise, just as the rest of the cave suddenly receded into the background. My eyes locked on the rune, blocking out everything else. An unusual zest for action made its way into my gut. It felt so primal that I couldn't ignore it or brush it aside. As vital as thirst or hunger. My heart skipped a beat in a painful spasm, and my hand immediately shot up to my chest. But the feeling didn't stop. The longer I looked at the rune, the stronger this urgent feeling in my chest grew.

My father's wanton laugh brought me back to the present. Ithuriel lay on the ground, writhing in pain. His face was twisted into an anguished mask. He no longer appeared like a heavenly creature, but rather like a wild beast imprisoned in a cage. "Ithuriel!" He didn't answer, how could he? This isn't real, I said to myself. This all happened a long time ago.

My tear-filled eyes searched again for the rune mark on the back of the angel's hand. He was squirming, screaming his heart out, yet he could bring himself to put his hand in my direction. I saw the hint of puzzlement on Valentine's face. My eyes tried to memorize every detail, every curve, every edge of the rune. I couldn't forget it.

"All of this is for the good of the Nephilim community," my father said in a low, measured tone. He stepped towards Ithuriel, who was hunched over in the rune circle and was motionless. A naked shiver of fear ran through my body, and I felt the need to cry out my sorrow.

"All of this is happening for the future."

oOo

My body reflexively jumped back before I knew what had happened. It took my eyes several seconds to adjust in the darkness. A gasp escaped my lips and I peered around the room. I was in my bedroom in Idris. The heavy blanket was wrapped around my legs, trapping the heat underneath. My body literally glowed.

I gasped again and ripped the covers off my body. My hands pressed into the mattress beneath me, soaked in warm sweat. Then I spotted Jace at the side of the bed. Every fiber of his body seemed tense as he watched me with his golden eyes. They gave me a stab, because I thought of Ithuriel immediately. My eyes filled with tears at the thought of him and what had happened in the cave.

For a moment we just stared at each other in the dark. Even though it was only the two of us physically, it seemed like someone else was in the room. I felt it and he seemed to feel it too. It wasn't a figure or a person, more like an omnipresent presence. It was in the air. Jace's hand clenched into a fist, but he didn't dare speak or move. He didn't take his eyes off mine.

For a moment I wondered how I ended up in bed in the first place. I pictured Maryse's face in my mind, covering me with a tired smile. Did that actually happen or was my brain playing tricks on me? Maryse's face blurred and got lost in a brilliant red and then there was my mother, stretching the blanket over my body with a tired smile.

"I wanted to wake you up because you were screaming. It bothered me, I couldn't sleep," Jace said suddenly, breaking the silence in the room with an emotionless voice. My head snapped to the window and I felt the presence withdraw from the room. Ithuriel. It was pitch dark outside, not even the moon shone in the room, although the curtains had not been drawn.

In one smooth movement, Jace turned to leave, and strode toward the door. "Wait," I wanted to call out, but my voice sounded hoarse and was no more than a soft whisper. Only now did I realize that I must have screamed in the dream. It was enough to make him stop. I cleared my throat while he stood in the doorway and gave me a look.

"Have you got something to write with? A piece of paper or something like that ..." It sounded ridiculously funny, but it made me think of the rune from the dream. The strange need in my chest spoke up relentlessly. My voice sounded almost demanding.

"No, I don't," Jace snapped back, disappearing from my sight a second later. I jumped out of bed and ran after him. As he was about to open the door to his room, I caught up with him and jerked to a halt.

"You're lying," I said quietly but firmly, watching his angular face twist into an irritated mask and his head turn in my direction. He was over a head taller than me and now he was looking down at me as if the angry look in his eyes was enough to put me off.

"And if so," he answered finally, but didn't move an inch. His hands hung down his body as if he didn't know what to do with them. His blond hair looked ashen in the darkness of the hallway.

For a moment I listened to the silence around us. Jace's quiet breathing, my heart pounding. "Please, it's important."

"Since when do I care if you care about something?" He wanted to provoke me like he had before in the library. Again, his unnecessarily hostile behavior infuriated me.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" I retorted, stepping past him and bursting into his room without giving him another look. The door creaked loudly before yielding under my weight and opening inward. "Then I'll get it myself. Even if it means waking up the whole house."

I didn't get two steps before Jace grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the doorstep. "What's gotten into you?" he growled and jumped into his room, blocking my way. "Don't you ever enter my room again!"

I glared at him in the darkness but didn't move any more than he did. I waited until he gave up his defensive posture to a snorting sigh when he realized I wasn't leaving. Jace moved like a shadow to a white desk standing in the right corner of the room and then came back with a pad of paper and pencil and handed it to me.

I grabbed it in a flash and before he could tell me to leave, I drew the rune on the first page of the pad. A sigh of relief escaped my throat as I pried the pencil from the paper and leaned back. The pressure on my heart eased and it felt like I could finally breathe freely again. I rubbed my right thumb over the rune mark and for a moment I forgot that Jace was just a few feet away, watching me.

"What's that?" he asked, stepping next to me to get a look at the block. I lifted my head and could see a look of surprise cross his face. I guess he didn't expect me to put him through all this trouble over just one rune. Puzzled, he raised an eyebrow. "It's not from the Gray Book," he stated in a calmer tone and moved back to his old position.

When I just shook my head, he asked what kind of rune it was. "Ithuriel ... the angel, he appeared to me in a dream," my voice faltered at the thought of the cave. "He burned that rune into his arm with sheer willpower. It was so real, I can't believe it was just a dream." The images in my head gave me goosebumps and as I looked down, shivering, I realized how scantily clad I was. I wore nothing more than a black nightgown that reached just to my knees.

"Of course you did," Jace remarked mockingly, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a confused movement. "After all, you also carry his blood in you."

"You don't believe me," I remarked calmly, watching his face in the darkness.

"Of course not," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "There's no reason to, because you're just making it up anyway. It's all one big show. Just like the show the rest of your family is putting on right now."

He was lucky that I could restrain myself. I would have loved nothing more than to break his nose in one quick, precise movement. I would have enjoyed the sound of the bones cracking. Instead, I stepped back and shrugged. "I could wave evidence in front of your face, and you still wouldn't believe me. Believe what you want." With that, I turned on my heel and disappeared from his room.

-

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