Chapter Text
The Pandemonium Club was not the place where anyone would look for answers, but that night Aliona felt like she was getting closer to something... though she didn't know what. Maybe she was just imagining things out of boredom while waiting in the long line with her friends, Clary and Simon.
"You've got to be kidding," said the bouncer, a burly man with a furrowed brow, to the boy in the red jacket. "You can't come in with that."
"Come on, man!" the boy protested, raising a long, pointed object over his head. It looked like a wooden stake with a sharpened end. "It's part of my costume."
The bouncer raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to be?"
"I'm a vampire hunter," the boy replied with a wide grin. His hair, dyed an electric blue that shimmered under the club's lights, and his bright green contact lenses gave him an extravagant air. Something about him made Aliona uneasy, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why.
The boy pressed the wooden object, and the tip bent easily. "Foam. See? It's just a joke."
The bouncer shrugged, suddenly uninterested. "Go in."
The boy slipped past him quickly.
"You thought he was hot," Simon said to Clary with a resigned tone. "Didn't you?"
"Well, Clary's always had, let's say, interesting taste," Aliona added with a chuckle.
Clary gave them a light smack on the arms, rolling her eyes without saying a word, though a smile betrayed her feigned annoyance.
Inside, the club pulsed with dry ice smoke floating in the air. Colored lights danced across the dance floor, transforming it into a multicolored fairyland of blues, acid greens, warm pinks, and golds. The rhythm of the music thudded in Aliona's chest.
"Okay," Simon said, "the music's not bad, huh?"
Aliona might have agreed, but they could barely move through the tightly packed crowd. Meanwhile, Clary couldn't take her eyes off the blue-haired boy.
"For my part," Simon continued, "I'm having a blast."
That was a blatant lie. Simon looked out of place with his dark brown hair, jeans, and a T-shirt that read "MADE IN BROOKLYN" among people dressed in neon greens, pinks, and other loud colors. He seemed more ready for a chess match than a nightclub.
"You know what would be fun?" Aliona said, raising her voice to be heard over the noise. "Some drinks."
It was obvious that she and Simon were only at Pandemonium to keep Clary company. Simon looked bored, and deep down, Aliona would've preferred to be at home watching a movie or sleeping. But there they were, for their friend.
"I'm getting us some drinks," Aliona announced, pushing her way toward the bar. "Here's hoping they have piña coladas."
As she moved forward, she made a conscious effort not to shove the young people blocking her path. Breathe, breathe... if I elbow everyone, they'll kick me out of the club.
Then she bumped into someone.
It was a tall boy with jet-black hair, pale skin, and eyes of a deep blue. His face, serious and almost ethereally beautiful, seemed like something out of a dream. For a moment, the chaos of the club faded away. He didn't say anything, didn't even look at her, but Aliona's heart raced. The boy continued on with purposeful strides, as if chasing someone through the crowd. Aliona turned her head to follow him with her gaze, blinking to calm her pounding heart.
She glanced back at her friends. Simon was talking to Clary, who was still watching the strange blue-haired boy. Aliona shook her head, trying to regain her composure, and made her way to the bar.
She managed to get three piña coladas—the only drink the three of them could agree on without debate—and returned to where they'd been standing. But as she scanned the crowd, her chest tightened.
Simon and Clary were gone.
Aliona set the drinks on a nearby table and searched the crowd with her eyes. Then she saw her: Clary was moving through the throng, heading toward a door with a red sign that read NO ENTRY.
A chill ran down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the club's air conditioning. Clary would never do something like that. She'd never wander into a restricted area without saying anything. And where was Simon? A pang of worry shot through her. She knew Clary could be impulsive, but this was different.
"This is crazy, they're probably just playing a prank on me. Simon's probably laughing his head off somewhere," she thought, but the growing unease in her stomach told her otherwise. The club, once loud and vibrant, now felt like the backdrop to a scene she didn't understand.
She pushed through the crowd with determination, not caring who she bumped into. Her focus was fixed on the door. When she reached it, her hand trembled for a moment before touching the cold surface. The NO ENTRY sign seemed to mock her. She pushed.
The door gave way with a soft creak, drowned out by the music. It opened into a dark hallway, faintly lit by flickering lights. The atmosphere was entirely different: the air was cold and heavy, laced with a metallic, oddly sweet smell.
"Clary? Simon?" Aliona called, her voice barely a whisper that faded into the darkness.
There was no response, only the distant echo of the club's music and an ominous silence that made her skin prickle. She took a step inside, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dimness. The only windows, high and barred, let in faint light. The air smelled of old paint, and the dusty floor was marked with shoe prints. A sense of unease washed over her.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm. Aliona stifled a scream, her heart pounding like a runaway drum, until she recognized her friend's red hair.
"Clary!" she exclaimed, her voice shaky as she pulled free from Clary's cold grip. "What the hell? What are we doing here? And where's Simon?"
Clary motioned for her to be quiet.
Then they heard voices: a girl laughing and a boy responding sharply.
Aliona turned her head and saw them: a girl in a long white dress, her black hair cascading down her back; a blond boy whose hair gleamed in the dim light; and finally, the black-haired boy she'd bumped into earlier. He had a bow slung across his back, and his presence quickened her pulse again.
Then she saw him: the blue-haired boy was tied to a pillar with what looked like piano wire, his hands bound behind his back and his legs immobilized at the ankles. His face was tense, marked by pain and fear.
Aliona and Clary crouched behind a nearby concrete pillar, watching from there. The blond boy was pacing back and forth, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Well," he said, "you still haven't told me if there are others of your kind with you."
Your kind. Aliona didn't understand what he meant, but something about those words felt strangely familiar.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the blue-haired boy replied, his tone anguished but defiant.
"He means other demons," the blue-eyed boy said, speaking for the first time. "You know what a demon is, don't you?"
The boy tied to the pillar shook his head, muttering under his breath.
"Demons," the blond boy said, drawing out the word as he traced it in the air with his finger. "Religiously defined as denizens of hell, servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purposes of the Clave, as any malevolent spirit whose origin lies outside our own dimension of residence..."
Great, just what I needed: an intense blond giving religion lessons. Sister Mary would be proud, Aliona thought.
"Enough, Jace," the girl said.
"Isabelle's right," the taller boy agreed. "No one needs a lesson in semantics... or demonology."
Jace lifted his head and smiled, a ferocity in his expression that reminded Aliona of documentaries she'd watched with her father, of lions raising their heads and sniffing for their next prey.
We'll be his next prey if we don't get out of here, Aliona thought.
"Isabelle and Alec think I talk too much," Jace said, his tone mocking. "Do you think I talk too much?"
So the blue-eyed boy was Alec.
"I could give you information," the blue-haired boy said desperately. "I know where Valentine is."
Jace glanced back at Alec, who shrugged.
"Valentine's underground," Jace said. "This thing is just playing with us."
"Kill him, Jace," Isabelle said, tossing her hair. "He's not going to tell us anything."
Jace raised his hand, and Aliona saw a faint glimmer of light on the knife he held. It was oddly translucent, the blade clear as crystal, sharp as a shard of glass, the hilt studded with red stones.
The tied-up boy let out a choked scream.
"Valentine's back!" he protested, struggling against the ropes binding his hands. "All the Infernal Worlds know it... I know it... I can tell you where he is..."
Rage flared in Jace's icy eyes.
Aliona discreetly pinched her arm. She had to be dreaming. Normal people didn't talk about demons as if they were real, and weapons definitely didn't glow like that. This had to be a vivid nightmare. But the slight pain she felt told her it was all too real.
She felt Clary tense beside her. She knew her friend was about to do something reckless. Aliona shot her a Don't you dare look and gripped her hand tightly, more focused on her than the conversation.
As Aliona raised her hand to cover Clary's mouth, Clary broke free and stepped out from behind the pillar, shouting, "Stop! You can't do this!"
Jace spun around, so startled that the knife slipped from his hand and clattered to the concrete floor with a metallic clang. Isabelle and Alec turned too, their faces mirroring the same shock. The blue-haired boy hung from his bindings, eyes wide and gasping.
Aliona's stomach turned to ice. With her heart in her throat, she stood and took a step forward, grabbing Clary's hand and pulling her behind her. She knew it wouldn't protect them, but she couldn't bear the thought of standing still. Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if everyone could hear it.
Then Alec's gaze locked onto her with an intensity that nearly made her step back. She could've sworn she'd have blushed in another situation, if she weren't so terrified.
She wanted to yell at Clary for her recklessness, for not thinking about what could happen, but now clearly wasn't the time.