Chapter 13: The Cup and the Captive
Madame Dorothea's apartment building reeks of demon even before they break the protective wards, the stench of sulfur and ancient malice seeping through brick and mortar like spiritual decay. Dexter's enhanced senses—vampire smell overlaying werewolf instinct—scream danger louder than anyone else's enhanced perception, his dual contracts painting the building in threat assessment data that makes his head pound.
The Cup is here. I know from canon, watched this confrontation play out on a television screen where special effects made Greater Demons look manageable. But my interference has accelerated everything, made Valentine's forces more aggressive, more adaptable. The timeline is compressed, events happening faster than they should.
[SPECIES ENERGY: VITALITY 40/100, LUNAR ESSENCE 80/100]
[SPECIES CONFLICT: 45% (CRITICAL STRESS LEVELS)]
[QUEST: THE MORTAL CUP RACE - 95% COMPLETE]
[WARNING: GREATER DEMON PRESENCE DETECTED]
Magnus leads the assault team through building corridors that seem to stretch longer than architectural blueprints suggest, reality warping around demonic influence. Jace moves with seraph blade drawn, Alec's bow tracks potential threats, and Isabelle's whip coils like a living thing sensing prey.
"Third floor," Clary says quietly, recovered memories guiding them toward the apartment where her childhood visits hid supernatural secrets. "Dorothea's been like a grandmother to me for years. I never knew she was..."
"Warlock," Magnus supplies grimly. "And currently possessed by something that shouldn't exist in this dimension."
Abbadon. Greater Demon of the Void, using Dorothea's body as anchor to manifest in the mundane world. In the show, it was defeated through teamwork and luck. Here, with my presence changing group dynamics, anything could happen.
They reach Dorothea's door, which stands slightly ajar despite protective wards that should prevent any unauthorized entry. The apartment beyond breathes with malevolent life, shadows moving independently of light sources, furniture arranged in patterns that hurt to look at directly.
"Clarissa," a voice calls from the darkness—Dorothea's familiar tone wrapped around something utterly inhuman. "Come in, dear. We have so much to discuss."
The thing wearing Dorothea's face emerges from shadows like nightmare given flesh. Her elderly form writhes with demonic energy, tentacles erupting from human torso, eyes glowing with hellfire that casts everything in sickly red light. This is Abbadon in all its terrible glory, Greater Demon constrained by mortal flesh but still carrying power that could level city blocks.
It's bigger than I expected. More tentacles, more fire, more raw supernatural violence contained in a body that was never meant to hold such forces. Television doesn't capture the smell—sulfur and burning ozone and something that might be melting reality.
"The Cup," Abbadon rumbles, voice carrying harmonics that make windows crack. "Where is it hidden, little angel spawn?"
Jace responds with seraph blade ignition, holy fire blazing in the darkness. "Michael," he whispers, and the weapon becomes miniature sun that drives shadows back to their proper places.
The battle erupts with explosive violence. Abbadon lashes out with flaming tentacles while the assault team scatters, each fighter using specialized abilities to survive contact with true infernal power. Alec's arrows pierce demonic flesh only to regenerate instantly, Isabelle's whip draws lines of ichor that burn through floorboards, Magnus weaves defensive spells that barely contain hellfire.
Chaos. Pure chaos. And I'm supposed to contribute somehow using borrowed vampire speed and werewolf strength against a being that predates human civilization.
Dexter triggers both contracts simultaneously, accepting the screaming pain of species conflict to gain every possible advantage. Vampire Speed Burst lets him dodge flaming tentacles, while werewolf Enhanced Senses track Abbadon's movements through supernatural grace that defies normal perception.
[ABILITY ACTIVATED: VAMPIRE SPEED BURST + WEREWOLF ENHANCED SENSES]
[VITALITY COST: 30 POINTS]
[LUNAR ESSENCE COST: 25 POINTS]
[SPECIES CONFLICT ESCALATION: 45%→60%]
When Alec is grabbed by a tentacle that wraps around his torso like burning rope, Dexter's pack telepathy senses the Shadowhunter's panic—not fear of death but terror of failing his family, his duty, everything he's sworn to protect.
Can't let him die. Won't let another person die because I wasn't strong enough, fast enough, smart enough to prevent it.
Dexter uses Hypnotic Gaze on Abbadon's burning eyes, pouring vampire compulsion into a technique that shouldn't work on Greater Demons but might create enough confusion to save Alec's life. The power burns through his remaining Vitality like acid through flesh, but Abbadon's grip loosens for crucial seconds.
[ABILITY ACTIVATED: HYPNOTIC GAZE]
[VITALITY COST: 35 POINTS]
[REMAINING VITALITY: 5/100 - CRITICAL]
Jace strikes in that moment of distraction, seraph blade finding the connection point between demonic essence and mortal flesh. Abbadon shrieks as holy fire disrupts its anchor to this dimension, tentacles dissolving into sulfurous smoke.
But the demon's death scream draws attention from everyone in the room—Shadowhunters, warlock, and possessed mundane all staring at Dexter with expressions ranging from shock to calculating suspicion.
"That's not possible," Magnus breathes, his magic flaring as diagnostic spells reveal what they've all suspected but couldn't prove. "You're human. You can't use multiple species abilities simultaneously without dying."
Exposed. Completely, utterly exposed. No more hiding behind mundane explanations or convenient coincidences. Everyone knows I'm something impossible.
POV: Alec Lightwood
The mundane photographer just saved Alec's life using abilities that shouldn't exist in any combination known to supernatural law. Vampire speed, werewolf senses, some kind of compulsion magic that worked on a Greater Demon—techniques that should kill any human attempting to use them together.
He smells of vampire and wolf simultaneously, which should be fatal. Contracts with opposing species create physiological conflict that tears people apart from the inside. Yet he stands there, exhausted but functional, having just demonstrated power that defies every Accords provision about mundane limitations.
"Explain," Alec demands, bow still drawn but no longer aimed at the dissolving demon. "Now."
"Downworlder contracts," Dexter manages between gasping breaths, clearly exhausted from whatever he just did. "Individual agreements with Raphael Santiago's vampire clan and Luke Garroway's werewolf pack. Legal under Accords provisions regarding supernatural alliance."
"Alliance," Alec repeats slowly. "Not turning. Not infection. Voluntary contracts."
"Voluntary," Dexter confirms. "Consensual. Beneficial to all parties."
The Accords do permit Downworlder contracts, though they're rare enough to be theoretical rather than practical concern. But dual contracts with opposing species... that's unprecedented.
Jace's seraph blade remains partially ignited, golden light casting harsh shadows across his angular features. "You're an abomination," he says quietly. "Walking violation of natural law."
"He saved your life," Clary interrupts fiercely, moving to stand between Dexter and potential Shadowhunter violence. "Whatever he is, he saved Alec when that thing had him."
Faction split developing. Clary and Isabelle defending the anomaly, Jace seeing threat to established order, Magnus studying the situation with eight centuries of accumulated warlock wisdom.
"The Accords permit Downworlder contracts," Magnus says finally, his voice carrying the authority of someone who helped write supernatural law. "Unusual, yes. Unprecedented, certainly. But not illegal."
Magnus Bane, defending the photographer. Interesting. The warlock sees something in this situation that goes beyond simple contract law.
Before anyone can probe deeper, Dexter's phone rings with the desperate urgency that announces fresh crisis. He answers with shaking hands, vampire abilities clearly depleted beyond safe limits.
"Simon," he says, and Alec watches color drain from the photographer's face. "Simon, calm down. Where are you?"
The mundane boy. Clary's friend, the one who's been dragged into supernatural politics through proximity to dangerous situations.
"Circle members at your house," Dexter repeats, voice carrying the hollow tone of someone processing impossible disaster. "They took you where?"
Valentine's forces. Moving faster than intelligence suggested, adapting tactics in response to variables they don't understand but are learning to exploit.
POV: Dexter Hale
No. Not Simon. Not after everything, not when I specifically prevented his canonical kidnapping only to deliver him to worse fate through timeline interference.
"We have to go," Dexter says, struggling to his feet despite critical energy depletion. "Valentine has Simon. This is my fault."
The team mobilizes with practiced efficiency, but when they reach Simon's house the damage is already done. Front door kicked in, furniture overturned in signs of struggle, and burned into the hardwood floor—a Circle rune that still smolders with residual angelic power.
Too late. Always too late. I have knowledge of futures that don't happen anymore, power borrowed from species that want to kill each other, and the growing certainty that my interference makes everything worse.
A note waits on the kitchen table, addressed to "The Photographer" in handwriting that carries military precision:
"Trade—the Daylighter boy for information about your source. You have six hours. Come alone to the Jade Wolf, or watch another friend die for your secrets."
Valentine knows about me. Knows I have information sources he wants to exploit, knows Simon matters enough to use as leverage. The game is changing faster than I can adapt.
[CRITICAL DIVERGENCE: SIMON LEWIS CAPTURED EARLY]
[DIFFERENT FACTION, DIFFERENT DEMANDS]
[CANON RELIABILITY: 55% AND FALLING]
[NEW TIMELINE FORMING]
[EMERGENCY QUEST: SIMON'S FATE REWRITTEN]
[WARNING: DIVERGENCE FROM CANON PATH - UNKNOWN DANGERS]
"This is your fault," Jace says quietly, studying the Circle rune with warrior's assessment of enemy tactics. "Your interference made Valentine aware of you, and now civilians are paying the price."
He's right. Every timeline change creates ripples, and some of those ripples are tsunamis that destroy the people I'm trying to save.
"I'll fix it," Dexter promises, though he has no idea how. "I'll get Simon back."
"How?" Clary demands, grief and fury warring in her voice. "Valentine has him, has Luke's pack, has every advantage. What can you possibly do against the Circle?"
Everything. Use every borrowed ability, call in every favor, risk every relationship I've built. Because the alternative is watching Simon die for crimes that exist only in my memory of a world that might never have been real.
Aria's hand finds his in the wreckage of Simon's living room, her witch-sensitized perception reading the desperation he's trying to hide behind tactical planning.
"You can't control everything," she whispers, voice carrying the weight of someone who's learned to accept limitations. "Some things are beyond individual power to fix."
But I have to try. Because if I don't, Simon dies. Luke dies. The pack dies. And all my borrowed power, all my impossible knowledge, all my interference in natural events becomes just another way to fail people who trusted me to save them.
The system displays Simon's location with GPS precision—Jade Wolf restaurant, Valentine's temporary base, the trap waiting for someone stupid enough to walk into it voluntarily.
Six hours. Six hours to plan an impossible rescue, gather allies who might not survive the attempt, and somehow defeat the most dangerous Shadowhunter in living memory using abilities that might kill me before I reach the target.
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