Setting: City of Hidden Houses
Rating: SAFE (mostly)
Wordcount: 100 x 5
Written for: COW-T #9, M3 (prompt: libero)
The first time Gabriel sets foot inside the New York Institute, he's not impressed at all. It looks like another orphanage to him, just a little bigger, dustier and tackier. The stained glass windows showing mighty angels killing black random things and then being given a winner's cup are simply unacceptable. Then, a world of madness opens up to him: one of his adoptive fathers is tattooed from head to toe, the other has cat's eyes. And his brother is blue. He can't decide if he's dreaming or he's been drugged. Considering where he's coming from, it might be both.
ICHORE AND BLOOD
The carcasses are reaching the roof of the cave.
Thomas is covered in black and red – ichore and blood. It drips from his nose, to his lips to his jaw and Gabriel only wants to lick it off him. We killed them all, something says in his mind. It's Thomas, he thinks, or that part of him that still can talk. We could kill more. There's a surge of power in him, searching for a piece of itself that's outside, wanting, longing for more death, more blood, more sex.
In the dark, they are the only two monsters left.
“I haven't seen something like that in ages,” Magnus comments, watching his older son and his nephew spar
in the training room, no holds barred. They're spilling blood and they don't seem to care. “And I mean literal ages.”
Gabriel and Thomas move like one, their movements perfectly synchronized. Heosphoros and Phaesphoros, the Morgenstern swords, dancing in their hands like the matching set they're meant to be.
“They're better than Jace,” Alex confirms in utter shock.
Jace frowns. “Let's not exaggerate, I'm still the better—“
“They are,” Sebastian smirks. “I trained them.”
They're killing machines, his best work so far.
“Do you remember your mother?” Tommy asks, sitting on Clary's grave.
Whenever he disappears, Gabriel always finds him here. “Not much anymore. I used to keep her picture when I still thought she was going to come back for me. I burned it the day the Clave came instead. And you?”
“I don't know. Sometimes I think I remember something and then I find out I read that in a book. Everybody talks so much about her that she doesn't seem real.”
“They say you are like her.”
“And what am I, Gabe?”
Gabriel wraps him into his arms. “Special."
CROSSING THE LINE
The human neck makes a funny sound when it breaks.
That's the first thing Gabriel thinks while the girl goes limp in his arms, like a doll that has lost all its stuffing. Or a marionette, whose strings have been cut. Demons trash, hiss and howl, she's just there – dead as she was alive a moment ago. Gabriel feels nothing, not even the thrill of blood spilled. She was nothing, she is nothing, all is calm.
“What have you done?” Thomas is shocked, only partially because she's dead.
“You are mine,” Gabriel says.
And for both that's reason enough.