Walking through the entrance to Pandemonium, Jordyn scanned the crowd of angsty teenagers dancing to some new unintelligible rap song. She knew this was where Jace and Clary had first clapped star-crossed eyes on each other, but it was also a popular place for demon activity, and she was just raring for a good fight. The Mendelin rune on her shoulder was doing it's job effectively and she slunk through the writhing bodies fueled by hormones without being detected. She wanted to find something big enough and bad enough to give her a good run for her money.
Jordyn had always been careful about the demons she fought. She never went hunting on her own, and she never went looking for something bigger than her. Lately, that's all she seemed to do. She was in the institute only to get a few hours of nightmare-riddled sleep, and check to see if there was anything important that they needed her help with. Otherwise, she was walking the streets of this big city, slinking through Downworld and cutting down rogue demons wherever she could find them. Valentine was dead, but the demons were still here, still behaving as filthy and vile as before.
"KATIE!" Someone called out to their friend, and Jordyn whipped around. Two blonde, pale, sixteen year old girls ran to embrace one another, and it made her blood boil. Katie, her little sister, still dead. She would never be a teenager. And the stupid thing was that there was absolutely nothing Jordyn could have done to stop it. Her own body betrayed her. There was no demon, no warlock, no vampire to blame for her sickness. Just bad genetics, unfixable by any stupid spell. Jordyn's parents had died when Katie was two, and the sisters had come to live in the Institute ever since. Even the useless Silent Brothers couldn't do anything for the innocent little girl. Frustrated, Jordyn realized there were no demons here in this idiotic club, and the only thing she smelled was the stink of hormones and alcohol that had been smuggled past the bouncers somehow.
Out in the street again, Jordyn turned and headed farther away from the Institute. She could picture Jace and Clary working together to figure out what her problem was, why she was such a bitch. If she was honest, Jordyn had to admit that there really was nothing wrong with Clary. She was bloody-well perfect, nearly, and everyone else loved her. Even damn Izzy like her. Alec didn't even hate her anymore, and Jordyn was pretty sure that she wasn't Church's favorite anymore. Traitorous freaking cat. Stomping past taxis and diners, she thought about Jace, and how much she had liked and wanted him when she'd first moved to New York. He was beautiful and mysterious, and moody. Unreachable, and troubled, and irresistible. He had never liked her back, never shown any inkling of mutual feelings, and Jordyn wasn't one to embarrass herself with words and unrequited declarations of love. They were a stupid waste of her time. She felt that way about most things, to be honest, but feelings especially were a waste of time. They harbored nothing but pain and disappointment, except for anger, and determination, because with a little anger (and she had a lot) and some determination, you were able to get shit down a demon was easier if you were angry about a lot of other things. It had always been easy before, but anger helped. It fueled Jordyn's fire, and when she walked by an alley and smelled the reek of a demon den, her fire roared up inside and she pulled a Seraph blade out of the holster on her waist.
It was about 4am when she finally got back to the Institute. She was covered in blood and ichor with an obscene grin on her was peeling off the gear on her arms on the way to the training room, hoping to work off the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. When she pushed the door open, there was no one else in there so she found her favorite set of throwing knives and went to work on one of the many-abused targets.
An hour later, her arm was too tired and sore to throw any more, so she pulled them out from the center circle for the last time that night. As far as she was concerned, it had been a damn good night, and she was hopeful that she might get some actual rest, when she turned to see Jace standing in the door of the training room.
"Shit!" she cried out, almost dropping a knife on her foot. "What the hell are you doing, you scared the hell out of me!"
"You're aim's a little off," was his answer.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"I don't know, since about five minutes after I heard you come back."
"For fuck's sake, Jace, you could have said something." Jordyn was putting the knives back in their place as he mumbled something. "What?"
"I said that I didn't want to distract you. Plus, I wanted to see how long you could throw knives at a board before you gave up."
"It's like a therapy, Jace, leave it alone."
"Where were you?"
"Obviously, but where?"
"Demon den. I don't know how many, but I killed them."
He didn't respond so she pushed past him into the hall and started towards her room.
"You need to talk to us," he said, grabbing her arm and stopping her. "You need to talk to somebody."
"Who says?" He didn't answer and she glared at him. His eyes burned their bright gold and she wanted to slap him for being so perfect. "Jace, I don't know if you feel responsible or whatever, but it's not your fault. What I'm doing, nothing is your fault, you know? And I don't want you to feel like it's up to you to 'fix me' or whatever, because I'm totally fine."
"You're not fine," he said, but loosened his grip on her wrist. "You're the furthest from fine you've ever been."
"Well, there's nothing you can do about it. Just leave me alone, okay?"
"You really want me to leave you alone?"
"For a while... yeah." He was staring right at her, and she thought the conversation was over, so she turned to walk away, but then he said; "What happened? You were my best friend, besides Alec. Why... it's like you hate me now?"
A sigh escaped her lips, and Jordyn couldn't think of a good answer. "I don't know Jace. No, I clearly do not hate you. I could never hate you. Not in a million years."
"Then why won't you talk to me?!" He raised his voice. He was angry, really angry, and it was her fault, all her stupid, pig-headed fault, so Jordyn just walked away. She couldn't answer him because it was humiliating and unnecessary and she wished again that he would just go back to being who he was, the silent, moody boy that she secretly, in her heart of hearts, always longed for, but it was understood that they didn't talk this mushy shit over, that it just was and would always be unspoken. Now he was demanding her to explain herself to him and while she didn't hate him, she truly never could, she was so frustrated with him for expecting her to change as he has, but she couldn't because, well, because she just wasn't going to, no matter what. She stomped into her room, locked the door, and flopped onto her bed, still in her blood-caked gear, and the exhaustion that she had hoped would carry her into unconsciousness was gone again, so she lay staring at her ceiling until the sun was fully up, burning through her window and mocking her in its happiness.