The Institute, New York, Thursday

[seveninchmotto]

One of the things Isabelle liked best about the Institute – apart from the general fact that it was home – was the kitchen. It was enormous, and unlike the rest of the Institute, it was all modern, with steel counters and glassed-in shelves holding rows of crockery. While Jace was out with Clary visiting her home and attempting to find out more about whatever was going on with her, Isabelle was currently spending her afternoon right here, next to a red cast-iron stove, a round spoon in her hand. Steam was rising from the pot, and ingredients were strewn everywhere – tomatoes, chopped garlic and onions, strings of herbs, grated piles of cheese, some shelled peanuts, a handful of olives, and a whole fish, its eye staring glassily upward.

She was having a lot of fun. And she didn't even care how much Hannibal would have disapproved. It was nice to have a kitchen all to herself, rather than having to deal with the common rooms. Besides, here the arrival of people could be heralded by the appearance of Church the cat, who was just now lazily padding in the door, followed by several sets of footsteps.

"I'm making soup, are you hungry?" Isabelle asked, waving her spoon, when Jace appeared in the doorway. Then she glanced behind him, taking in Clary as well as someone else. A gangly boy who looked vaguely familiar. "Oh, my God," she said with finality. "You brought another mundie here? Hodge is going to kill you." the mundane in question cleared his throat, and went to say something, but she ignored him. "Jace Wayland," she said. "Explain yourself." Honestly, she might as well have dragged Flick back here with her, if this was what they were doing with the rules now.

Jace was glaring at the cat. "I told you to bring me to Alec! Backstabbing Judas." Church, of course, rolled onto his back, purring contentedly. "Don't blame Church," Isabelle said. "It's not his fault Hodge is going to kill you." She plunged the spoon back into the pot.

"I had to bring him," Jace said. "Isabelle – today I saw two of the men who killed my father."

Isabelle's shoulders tightened. As did her jaw. Her eyebrows were knitting together as she turned around. "I don't suppose he's one of them?" she asked, pointing her spoon at the mundie boy.

"Of course not," Jace said. "Do you think he'd be alive now if he were?"

She cast a brief, indifferent look at the boy. "I suppose not." She picked up a piece of fish and absently dropped it onon the floor. Church fell on it ravenously. Jace looked disgusted. "No wonder he brought us here," he said, because far be it from them to stay on a depressing topic too long. "I can't believe you've been stuffing him with fish again. He's looking distinctly podgy."

"He does not look podgy," Isabelle retorted. "Besides, none of the rest of you ever eat anything. I got this recipe from a water sprite at the Chelsea Market. He said it was delicious ––"

"If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat," Jace muttered.

Isabelle glared at him, her spoon poised dangerously. "What did you say?" she asked, as if there was anything new about his attitude. There really wasn't.

He edged toward the fridge. "I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat."

"That's what I thought you said." Isabelle returned her attention to the soup. Clary followed Jace to the refrigerator, while the mundie boy stayed by Isabelle. Even without looking at him, she knew he was staring at her. Boys like him always stared at her. After a while, he tried to engage her in conversation. That always happened, too.

"Um, as I was saying," he started, "I'm Simon."

"Is that so?"

The idle question, posed without even a glance at him, threw him for a loop. "... Yes. And, and you're Isabelle, right?"

She looked up, and nodded. "Yes." Then, she tilted her head to the side as something occurred to her. "Oh, you're the guy from Pandemonium," she said then. "The one who followed Clary and couldn't see us."

He seemed far too thrilled that she remembered him, even when she'd put it in the most embarrassing terms she could think of. She indulged him with some conversation until Clary and Jace were heading for the door. "Where are you going?" Simon asked, looking up as they reached the door. Jagged bits of dark hair fell into his eyes, and he looked dazed.

"To find Hodge," Clary said. "I need to tell him about what happened at Luke's."

Isabelle looked up again too, now. But towards Jace. "Are you going to tell him that you saw those men, Jace? The ones that –"

"I don't know." He cut her off. "So keep it to yourself for now."

She shrugged. "All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?"

"No," said Jace.

"Do you think Hodge will want any soup?"

"No one wants any soup."

"I want some soup," Simon said.

"No, you don't," said Jace. "You just want to sleep with Isabelle."

Simon looked appalled. And also alarmed. "That is not true."

"How flattering," Isabelle murmured into the soup, but she was smirking. Some boys were so easy. And she couldn't help herself. (Just like she couldn't help thinking of someone else, far away. She was trying not to, believe her.)

"Oh, yes it is," said Jace. "Go ahead and ask her – then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation." He snapped his fingers. "Hurry up, mundie boy, we've got work to do."

Simon looked away, flushed with embarrassment. "Leave him alone," Clary snapped. "There's no need to be sadistic just because he isn't one of you."

"One of us," said Jace, but the sharp look had gone out of his eyes. "I'm going to find Hodge. Come along or not, it's your choice." The kitchen door swung shut behind him. Isabelle ladled some of the soup into a bowl and pushed it across the counter toward Simon without looking at him. She was still smirking, though

"I'm going with Jace," Clary said. "Simon... ?"

"Mmgnstayhr," he mumbled, looking at his feet.

"What?"

"I'm going to stay here." Simon parked himself on a stool. "I'm hungry."

"Fine." Clary stalked out of the kitchen.

-----

Even with Simon helping out (albeit mostly by stumbling around the kitchen in an amusing fashion, as well as looking like he couldn't take his eyes off of isabelle), the soup did not turn out great. Maybe it was the recipe? Probably missing some ingredient after all. Isabelle threw it out, and ordered Chinese food for everyone – a fact which made Hodge and Jace far too glad.

Over dinner, Jace and Hodge filled her in on what was going on, and why Clary seemed to have Shadowhunter blood without knowing it. Apparently, her mother – who, by the way, was now missing – had been a member of Valentine's Circle. In fact, she'd been married to him. And now, he was back and attempting to reach her. Oh, and he wanted the Mortal Cup, which no one had seen in a long time now. Since his assumed death nearly two decades ago, in fact.

"Well, I think it's kind of romantic," Isabelle said once the tale had been finished. Honestly, she was more focused on sucking tapioca pearls through an enormous pink straw than she was on what she was saying. There was no good bubble tea on the island.

"What is?" asked Simon, instantly alert.

"That whole business about Clary's mother being married to Valentine," she replied. "So now he's back from the dead and he's come looking for her. Maybe he wants to get back together."

"I kind of doubt he sent a Ravener demon to her house because he wants to 'get back together,'" said Alec, who had turned up when the food was served. Nobody had asked him where he'd been, and he hadn't offered the information. He was sitting next to Jace, across from Clary, and was avoiding looking at her.

"It wouldn't be my move," Jace agreed. "First the candy and flowers, then the apology letters, then the ravenous demon hordes. In that order."

"He might have sent her candy and flowers," Isabelle said, with a shrug. "We don't know."

"Isabelle," said Hodge patiently, "this is the man who rained down destruction on Idris the like of which it had never seen, who set Shadowhunter against Downworlder and made the streets of the Glass City run with blood."

"That's sort of hot," Isabelle argued, now just for the hell of it, "that evil thing."

(She did not notice Simon attempting to look menacing, nor him giving it up when he saw Clary staring at him.)

"So why does Valentine want this Cup so bad, and why does he think Clary's mom has it?" Simon asked.

"You said it was so he could make an army," Clary said, turning to Hodge. "You mean because you can use the Cup to make Shadowhunters?"

"Yes."

"So Valentine could just walk up to any guy on the street and make a Shadowhunter out of him? Just with the Cup?" Simon leaned forward. "Would it work on me?"

Hodge gave him a long and measured look. "Possibly," he said. "But most likely, you're too old. The Cup works on children. An adult would either be unaffected by the process entirely, or killed outright."

"A child army," said Isabelle softly, now back in the conversation. Her thoughts flickered briefly to Jude and she wasn't even sure why.

"Only for a few years," said Jace. "Kids grow fast. It wouldn't be too long before they were a force to contend with."

"I don't know," said Simon. "Turning a bunch of kids into warriors, I've heard of worse stuff happening. I don't see the big deal about keeping the Cup away from him."

"Leaving out that he would inevitably use this army to launch an attack on the Clave," Hodge said dryly, "the reason that only a few humans are selected to be turned into Nephilim is that most would never survive the transition. It takes special strength and resilience. Before they can be turned, they must be extensively tested – but Valentine would never bother with that. He would use the Cup on any child he could capture, and cull out the twenty percent who survived to be his army."

Alec was looking at Hodge with the same sense of creeping horror Isabelle was feeling. "How do you know he'd do that?"

"Because," Hodge said, "when he was in the Circle, that was his plan. He said it was the only way to build the kind of force that was needed to defend our world."

Isabelle felt like maybe she looked a little green now. "But that's murder," she said. "He was talking about killing children."

"He said that we had made the world safe for humans for a thousand years," said Hodge, "and now was their time to repay us with their own sacrifice."

"Their children?" demanded Jace, his cheeks flushed. "That goes against everything we're supposed to be about. Protecting the helpless, safeguarding humanity –"

Hodge pushed his plate away. "Valentine was insane," he said. "Brilliant, but insane. He cared about nothing but killing demons and Downworlders. Nothing but making the world pure. He would have sacrificed his own son for the cause and could not understand how anyone else would not."

"He had a son?" asked Alec.

"I was speaking figuratively," said Hodge, reaching for his handkerchief. He used it to mop his forehead before returning it to his pocket. His hand was trembling slightly. "When his land burned, when his home was destroyed, it was assumed that he had burned himself and the Cup to ashes rather than relinquish either to the Clave. His bones were found in the ashes, along with the bones of his wife."

"But my mother lived," said Clary. "She didn't die in that fire."

"And neither, it seems now, did Valentine," said Hodge. "The Clave will not be pleased to have been fooled. But more importantly, they will want to secure the Cup. And more importantly than that, they will want to make sure Valentine does not."

"It seems to me that the first thing we'd better do is find Clary's mother," said Jace. "Find her, find the Cup, get it before Valentine does."

Hodge, predictably stern, said, "Absolutely not."

"Then what do we do?"

"Nothing," Hodge said. "All this is best left to skilled, experienced Shadowhunters."

"I am skilled," Jace protested. "I am experienced."

Hodge's tone was firm, nearly parental. "I know that you are, but you're still a child, or nearly one."

Jace looked at Hodge through slitted eyes. Isabelle knew what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing. "I am not a child."

It didn't seem Alec shared their thoughts, though. "Hodge is right," he said. "Valentine is dangerous. I know you're a good Shadowhunter. You're probably the best our age. But Valentine's one of the best there ever was. It took a huge battle to bring him down."

"And he didn't exactly stay down," said Isabelle, grudgingly, examining her fork tines. "Apparently."

"But we're here," said Jace. "We're here and because of the Accords, nobody else is. If we don't do something –"

"We are going to do something," said Hodge. "I'll send the Clave a message tonight. They could have a force of Nephilim here by tomorrow if they wanted. They'll take care of this. You have done more than enough."

Jace subsided, but his eyes were still glittering. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it," said Alec. "You just have to shut up and not do anything stupid."

"But what about my mother?" Clary demanded. "She can't wait for some representative from the Clave to show up. Valentine has her right now – Pangborn and Blackwell said so – and he could be..."

She didn't seem to want to finish her thought. Simon did it for her "Hurting her," he said. "Except, Clary, they also said she was unconscious and that Valentine wasn't happy about it. He seems to be waiting for her to wake up."

"I'd stay unconscious if I were her," Isabelle muttered.

"But that could be any time," said Clary, ignoring her. Probably for the best. "I thought the Clave was pledged to protect people. Shouldn't there be Shadowhunters here right now? Shouldn't they already be searching for her?"

"That would be easier," snapped Alec, "if we had the slightest idea where to look."

"But we do," said Jace.

"You do?" Clary looked at him, startled and eager. "Where?"

"Here." Jace leaned forward and touched his fingers to the side of her temple, so gently that a flush crept up her face.

"Everything we need to know is locked up in your head, under those pretty red curls."

Clary reached up to touch her hair protectively. "I don't think –"

"So what are you going to do?" Simon asked sharply. "Cut her head open to get at it?"

Jace's eyes sparked, but he said calmly, "Not at all. The Silent Brothers can help her retrieve her memories."

Isabelle looked up with her eyebrows way up. "You hate the Silent Brothers," she protested.

"I don't hate them," said Jace candidly. "I'm afraid of them. It's not the same thing."

"I thought you said they were librarians," said Clary.

"They are librarians."

Simon whistled. "Those must be some killer late fees."

"The Silent Brothers are archivists, but that is not all they are," interrupted Hodge, sounding as if he were running out of patience. "In order to strengthen their minds, they have chosen to take upon themselves some of the most powerful runes ever created. The power of these runes is so great that the use of them –" He broke off, looking for his words. "Well, it warps and twists their physical forms. They are not warriors in the sense that other Shadowhunters are warriors. Their powers are of the mind, not the body."

"They can read minds?" Clary said in a small voice.

"Among other things. They are among the most feared of all demon hunters."

"I don't know," said Simon, "it doesn't sound so bad to me. I'd rather have someone mess around inside my head than chop it off."

"Then you're a bigger idiot than you look," said Jace, regarding him with scorn.

"Jace is right," said Isabelle, ignoring Simon. "The Silent Brothers are really creepy."

Hodge's hand was clenched on the table. "They are very powerful," he said. "They walk in darkness and do not speak, but they can crack open a man's mind the way you might crack open a walnut – and leave him screaming alone in the dark if that is what they desire."

Clary looked at Jace, appalled. "You want to give me to them?"

"I want them to help you." Jace leaned across the table towards her. "Maybe we don't get to look for the Cup," he said softly. (It was weird to Isabelle, but she kept her eyebrow raising to herself.) "Maybe the Clave will do that. But what's in your mind belongs to you. Someone's hidden secrets there, secrets you can't see. Don't you want to know the truth about your own life?"

"I don't want someone else inside my head," Clary said weakly.

"I'll go with you," said Jace. "I'll stay with you while they do it."

They didn't seem to notice Simon standing up from the table, red with anger. Not before he spoke. "That's enough. Leave her alone."

Alec glanced over at Simon as if he'd just noticed him, raking tumbled black hair out of his eyes and blinking. "What are you still doing here, mundane?"

Simon ignored him. "I said, leave her alone."

Jace glanced over at him, a slow, sweetly poisonous glance. "Alec is right," he said. "The Institute is sworn to shelter Shadowhunters, not their mundane friends. Especially when they've worn out their welcome."

Great, they were finally living according to their rules again. Isabelle got up and took Simon's arm before anyone had time to suggest otherwise. "I'll show him out." For a moment it looked like he might resist her, but he caught Clary's eye across the table as she shook her head slightly. He subsided. Head up, he let Isabelle lead him from the room.

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay! Taken (again, with lots and lots of editing) from City of Bones.]