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The Hunter’s Moon is nearly empty when Isabelle Lightwood walks through the door. Even though the casual bar is a favorite haunt for downworlders and mundanes alike, it is still early on a Monday afternoon, a while to go before happy hour.
Her stiletto heels click on the tile floor as she walks up to the bar counter. She pulls down the hem of her mini-dress before she hops up onto the hard seat of the low-back metal bar stool. Her listless gaze passes over the shelves behind the bar; two jam-packed rows of hard liquor.
Isabelle slides her hands over the age-worn dark wood of the counter. Her long nails are a perfect shade of carmine, matching her lipstick. The snake bracelet that coils around her wrist gleams silver-gold against her pale white skin.
“You gonna order something or just sit there and admire the paint job?”
The female voice is caustic, but not without warmth.
When Isabelle looks up, her brown eyes meet a pair a couple shades darker across the counter.
Maia Roberts raises her elegant brows, continuing to polish the dimpled beer mug in her light brown hands with a clean towel. She cocks her head, springy dark curls bouncing with the motion, and stretches her caramel painted lips in an easy smirk.
Isabelle shrugs. “I’ll have whatever you make.”
“Oh-hoh,” Maia says, laughing, “Are you sure about that, shadowhunter?”
“Clary’s gone.”
Maia’s brows furrow as she sets the beer mug aside and reaches for a cocktail glass.
“What do you mean?”
Isabelle laces her fingers, braces her elbows on the counter, and rests her delicate chin on the ridge of her knuckles.
“The angels punished her for creating her own runes. They took all her memories of the Shadow World and her ability to see it, and then they dumped her back in Brooklyn like nothing ever happened.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah,” Isabelle says with a tortured smile, moving her hands to brush her long black hair behind her ears. “So, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me, as long as it’s strong as hell.”
Maia nods. “You got it.”
She puts down the cocktail glass and turns around to face the liquor shelves.
Isabelle goes back to staring at her flawless fingernails until a rocks glass slides into the space between them; the six-ounce cylinder is nearly full to the brim with deep amber liquid and three chunks of ice.
“What’s this?”
“Three idiots and a smartass climbing a mountain.”
“Huh?”
“Johnny Walker, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, and José Cuervo. On the rocks.”
“That’ll do.”
Isabelle knocks it back in three big gulps. She shivers, lips pressed tightly together; a small high-pitched noise escapes through her nose.
Maia snickers. “Too much?”
Isabelle shakes her head with a stubborn scowl and bangs the glass down onto the counter. Her eyes drag up slowly from the melting ice cubes, over a black crop-top with some rock band logo on it, to Maia’s heart-shaped face.
The corners of Maia’s eyes are crinkled with amusement, but her forehead starts to crease with concern and her smile softens.
Isabelle takes a deep breath.
“She asked me to be her parabatai. Just before the wedding.”
Maia picks up the glass. “I’ll make you another one.”
“Thank you.”
Isabelle takes a little more time with her second drink, stopping herself after two large sips out of three.
“She was so worried,” she says with a wistful smile. “Like I was gonna say no. Like there was any possible scenario where I wouldn’t want her…” She stops abruptly, suppressing a hiccup behind tightly closed lips, before she continues, “To be my parabatai.”
Maia hums low in her throat. “That parabatai thing. It’s like soulmates, right?”
Isabelle waggles her head back and forth, then she lifts her right hand and waggles that back and forth. Then she picks up her glass and takes the last big sip that finishes her second drink.
“Kind of?” She takes a deep breath and exhales. “But not like sex. No sex. It’s soulmates without the sex or romance. Well, I suppose you could have the romance without triggering the curse. I never really thought about it, ‘cause I never thought I’d have one, and by the time I found out Alec was gay and in love with Jace he was already starting to fall in love with Magnus, so it didn’t seem to be critical to research it. Whoa! Did I just tell you all of that?”
Maia shrugs. “Three idiots and a smartass will get you talking.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah.”
Isabelle looks up from her empty glass. Her eyes are huge, unfocused, and a little wet.
“Do you have snacks? I need a snack.”
Maia chuckles. “We serve food here, yeah. Hang on, I’ll get you a menu.”
By the time Maia returns with a leather-bound menu, Isabelle is repeatedly mumbling the word “snack” to herself.
“Did you ever notice how strange that word sounds? Snack. Ssssnack.” She hisses the ‘s’ at the beginning and pops the ‘k’ sound at the end extra hard. Then she snickers to herself. “Once, Clary and I were talking about boys, and she called Magnus a certified snack.” She giggles. “Or maybe it was Alec? Or Jace? I forget, but I thought it was so funny.” Her face crumples and her smile wobbles. “Can I have another idiot?”
Maia’s brows crinkle over her button nose as she quirks her upper lip with a sneer.
“Why don’t you go ahead and pick something to eat first?”
She opens the menu and pushes it into Isabelle’s manicured hands.
Isabelle moves her head up and down, gazing at the rows of bold printed lines, going down the left side of the menu and up the right side and back in reverse.
“It’s too hard.”
She flaps the open menu flat on the counter in front of her, squeezes her eyes shut, and circles her pointer finger around the air before she drops it hard.
When Isabelle opens one eye to check, she sees that her finger has landed half a foot beside the menu.
She purses her lips in a pout, blows a raspberry, and tries again.
This time, Maia catches her finger before it drops and guides it to land somewhere inside the boundaries of the menu.
Maia gently moves aside the dainty digit with the pointy carmine nail to read the writing below it.
“Chili cheese fries it is.”
“Yes.” Isabelle grins. “Perfect. And more idiots!”
“Not until you’ve had some fries,” Maia says over her shoulder as she walks away to stow the menu and place Isabelle’s order.
“Fine.”
Isabelle deflates like a balloon, draping herself inelegantly across the counter.
Maia returns to her side and pokes her gently on the top of her head.
“No sleeping on my counter. I refuse to deal with shadowhunter drool.”
Isabelle raises herself back up with a nasty glower. Her eyes are almost entirely hidden inside the thick curves of her long, dark lashes.
“I don’t drool,” she says, wiping the corners of her mouth.
“Sure, you don’t,” Maia says. “And male werewolves don’t pee on all four corners of this building to mark their territory.”
“Ew.” Izzy’s petite nose wrinkles as her whole face screws up in disgust. Then she lapses forward with both elbows on the counter and stares wide-eyed at Maia. “Do they really?”
Maia sucks air through her teeth with a rueful nod.
Isabelle’s eyes go even wider as her jaw drops. “Even Luke?”
Maia cringes and nods again. “Caught him twice.”
“Oh, that’s gross!” Isabelle says, but she’s cackling like a witch.
“I know!” Maia says with a big grin. “I told him if he ever did that again, I’d tell Clary. You should have seen the look on his face.”
Isabelle’s face falls.
Maia’s mouth drops open in realization a half second later. “I’m sorry.”
Isabelle shrugs and runs the side of her pointer finger under her nose to stifle a sniffle.
“It’s okay,” she says quietly. She clears her throat. “I could really use another idiot, though.”
Maia smiles. “Let me just go check on those fries for you.”
Isabelle pouts after her retreating back. “I know what you’re doing!”
“You’ll thank me for it later!”
While Isabelle sits alone at the counter, the glass door at the front opens and a small crowd of people rolls in.
Happy hour has officially started.
Isabelle pouts as she plays with her empty rocks glass, turning it around and around; the ice cubes rattle loudly inside it.
“Hello, lovely lady.”
Isabelle raises her gaze from her glass to the person standing at her side.
The man is of average height and build, with an average short haircut and the average amount of five o’clock shadow on his average face.
“Well,” he says, “I’m here now, so what were your other two wishes?”
Isabelle huffs out a disbelieving laugh.
“Maia!” she calls loudly.
The guy in front of her flinches.
Isabelle chuckles. “Maia!”
“I’m here, I’m here.”
Maia trundles over, balancing a serving tray. She stops in front of Isabelle, shifting the tray to one hand, and uses her other hand to set down a large basket of chili cheese fries, some paper napkins, and a bottle of ketchup on the counter in front of Isabelle.
“Here you go.” She turns her attention to the man beside Isabelle. “Hi, what can I get you?”
“Well,” he drawls, cocking his head in Isabelle’s direction. “I’ll take her phone number, but we can start with a Black Russian for me and another one of whatever she’s been drinking for her.”
Maia’s eyes narrow. She deliberately turns to look at Isabelle and raises her brows.
“Is this guy bothering you?”
Isabelle raises her shoulders in a big, long shrug before she drops them again. She puffs out her cheeks.
“It’s my fault,” she says, “Remember, I ordered another idiot, which is like a wish, and poof.” She makes a presentation hand gesture toward the man beside her.
“Aww,” said the guy, grasping Isabelle’s flailing hand. “Now, that’s not nice.”
Isabelle slides out of his grip as quickly as she can, wrinkling her nose while she shakes her hand like it’s wet.
“No touchy,” she says resolutely before she starts to make shooing motions. “Go away. Away. Far away. Way far away ‘til I can’t see you anymore. I renounce my wish for an idiot!”
“I can take a hint.”
The guy backs up with both hands in the air and turns around. He walks away to join a small group of people at one of the tables toward the back of the bar.
Maia and Isabelle exchange a look and simultaneously roll their eyes.
Maia sighs. “I still have to get him his drink and take their orders. Guess I’ll better get it over with.”
She pulls a note pad and pen from her little apron and uses the pen to push the basket of chili cheese fries closer to Isabelle.
“Do me a favor,” she says, “eat some of those ‘til I get back.”
Isabelle has already shoveled a handful of fries into her mouth by the time Maia steps out from behind the counter to attend to the other patrons.
The next time Maia steps in front of Isabelle, the basket is half empty and there is a growing cloud of crumpled paper napkins in front of Isabelle.
“Can I have another drink now?”
Maia snickers and cocks her head to the side. “Pick one idiot.”
“José! No, wait. He was the smartass. Jack!”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Shot or on the rocks?”
“Rocks and with coke.” Isabelle’s eyes go big and round. “And a cocktail cherry?”
Maia shakes her head as she turns around to make the drink. She cleans up the mess of napkins before she puts down the glass and sets down a little dish with a couple of cocktail cherries beside it.
Isabelle smiles wide as she picks one up. “You’re the best.”
“Naturally.” Maia smirks, but the expression quickly turns serious. “Does Simon know? About Clary?”
Isabelle pouts around the dull red stem sticking out of her mouth.
“Mhm.” She yanks the stem out, chews, and swallows. “He’s with Jace. Training. More like kicking the stuffing out of each other so they don’t have to talk about feelings.”
Isabelle wrinkles her nose and sniffles.
Maia quickly picks up the other cherry. “Wanna see a neat trick?”
She yanks the stem off, drops the bright red fruit on the little plate and sticks the stem in her mouth. Her jaw works and her lips purse as she rolls her eyes a couple times.
When she pulls the stem back out, it is curled up in a neat little knot.
Isabelle snickers.
She sticks her own stem in her mouth, closes her eyes, works her jaw, opens her eyes again, and pulls out a fully formed knot.
Maia laughs. “Oh, so it’s like that, is it?”
Isabelle nods. “Uh-huh.”
She drops her stem on the plate, picks up Maia’s cocktail cherry, and pops it in her mouth.
Maia snickers. “You know, you’re all right, shadowhunter.”
“You’re okay, too, werewolf.” Isabelle parrots her tone.
“Hey, my shift’s over in an hour. Do you wanna go do something fun together?”
“Like what?”
“It’s karaoke night over at Hard Tail.”
Isabelle’s face lights up with sudden interest. “Is it?”
“Uh-huh.” Maia waggles her brows with an impish grin. “How’s your singing voice?”
Isabelle shrugs and chews on her bottom lip. “Does it matter?”
Maia shrugs back. “Not really.”
“Great! Then you’re on. You haven’t known suffering until you’ve heard me do Cher.”
“Really? I figured you more for a Whitney Houston type.”
“Not since I popped my vocal cords.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, there was an unfortunate incident involving too many Mai Tais and Adele’s ‘Send My Love’.”
Maia laughs. “Why do I suddenly get the feeling we’ll end up Insta-famous by the end of tonight?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Isabelle grins and sticks another handful of chili cheese fries in her mouth.
Fin