Clary dragged Roy down to the basement, where the dark-haired woman was clinging to her last breath, barely conscious. Her vision had blurred, but she could just make out that it was Clary who had come.
"Lady Frey, has someone come to save you?" she whispered weakly.
"Save your strength, don't talk!" Clary urged. "Roy can help you!"
Roy examined the woman's condition. Her primary issue was severe blood loss from two gunshot wounds. If he could remove the bullets, he could heal her using angelic power.
"I need to dig the bullets out of your wounds. It's gonna hurt, so brace yourself."
The dark-haired woman managed a carefree smile. "I'm already half-dead, so do whatever you need to!"
Carefree or not, when Roy started working, the pain was excruciating, nearly unbearable. Roy had no surgical training whatsoever—he was essentially carving out the bullets with a knife, inevitably causing more damage in the process.
By the time Roy had extracted both bullets, the woman had passed out, her breathing faint and shallow.
"Roy, she doesn't look like she's going to make it!" Clary said, alarmed.
"She'll be fine. Ordinary angels can't bring back the dead, but pulling someone back from the brink is doable. Clary, give me your hand."
Clary reached out, and as Roy's warm hand enveloped hers, her cheeks flushed.
"I'll show you how to use holy light to heal someone. Feel my power."
Guided by Roy, Clary transformed into her angelic form. Holy light flowed between their hands, and they placed it on the dark-haired woman.
This time, Clary focused intently. She hadn't taken her transformation training seriously before, which had left her unable to save Big Guy and Little Black.
"Gah!" The dark-haired woman's eyes snapped open, gasping as if she'd just broken the surface after nearly drowning. Through her hazy vision, she saw two angels with glowing halos hovering above her.
"Am I in heaven already?" she mumbled.
"Sorry, not quite. God knew you still have a sick daughter to care for, so He sent you back," Clary teased, feeling a wave of relief after saving her.
Now that she was more alert, the dark-haired woman could clearly see Clary and the man with black-rimmed glasses, both sporting halos and glowing wings.
"Am I dreaming?" she asked, dazed. The near-death experience and the sight of two angels made her question reality. But soon, Clary and Roy reverted to their human forms.
"Alright, Clary, fill me in on what happened in the villa," Roy said.
Clary recounted the events in detail, helping the dark-haired woman to her feet as she spoke.
Roy was stunned by what he heard. "I can't believe the Council of Elders is working with the Dark Web!"
The Council might be powerful in Europe, but their influence in America was limited. The Dark Web, on the other hand, was deeply entrenched in the U.S., with strong political backing. Roy had clashed with them several times but had never managed to uproot them completely.
This could be an opportunity. Colluding with foreign vampires to stir trouble in the States was a far bigger deal than their usual crimes. The federal government was particularly sensitive to supernatural matters right now.
The next step was clear: interrogate that strange little girl to find solid evidence of the Dark Web's alliance with the Council.
"Let's head upstairs," Roy said, leading Clary and the dark-haired woman out of the basement. But as soon as they stepped out, a crossbow bolt whizzed toward him.
Roy caught it effortlessly, noticing the arrowhead was imbued with magical energy—specifically designed to target supernatural beings.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" he shouted.
To his surprise, five or six people actually stepped forward. They wore matching black uniforms with a distinct emblem, wielding an assortment of cold weapons—swords, knives, and hand crossbows.
One of them, who seemed to be the leader, spoke up. "Clary Frey, we're here to rescue you."
Clary frowned, confused. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
The leader explained, "We're Shadowhunters, an organization that protects humanity from dark creatures in the shadows. Your mother, Jocelyn, was once one of us. She sent us to save you."
Clary was skeptical. Her mother had never mentioned anything about Shadowhunters. Noticing her doubt, the leader pointed to the emblem on his uniform.
"Recognize this mark? It's exclusive to Shadowhunters. Your mother should have it too."
Clary thought back and nodded slowly. "I think I've seen it on my mom… and I have it too!" She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a similar mark on her wrist.
This revelation made her start to believe the leader. "What does this mark mean? I asked my mom, but she never told me."
"It's the symbol of the Holy Grail," the leader said proudly. "Shadowhunters originated as a branch of the Knights of the Round Table, tasked with hunting dark creatures. When the Knights fell, the last of them entrusted the Grail to us. It's been our emblem ever since, passed down through generations."
Clary was floored. "So that's the truth? How much has my mom been hiding from me?" She'd always thought her family was just an ordinary single-parent household, not tangled up in some ancient secret.
The leader spoke up for Jocelyn. "Don't blame her, Clary. Your father was a Shadowhunter too, but he died in battle while she was pregnant with you. She chose to leave the Shadowhunters to raise you in peace. We respect her decision."
It was the first time Clary had heard anything about her father, and a pang of sadness hit her.
"Alright, Clary, we'll talk more at our base. It's not safe to stay here," the leader said, extending a hand.
But Roy stepped between them. "Hold up! You still haven't explained why you shot at me."
The leader frowned slightly. "My apologies. I thought you were holding Clary hostage until I saw her expression and realized you were together."
Roy wasn't satisfied. The timing of their arrival was too convenient—right when he'd captured the little girl. And how did they even know where to find them?
"I'm curious," Roy said, narrowing his eyes. "How did you know we were here?"
The leader gave a cryptic smile. "Shadowhunters have their own intelligence networks."
"Fine, I don't care who you are. Clary's not going with you, and that little girl is my prize. Hand her over."
Roy had noticed the Shadowhunters had taken control of the girl, likely intending to take her too. That wasn't happening. After encountering her, Roy had learned her name was Abigail—a key figure. No way was he letting her slip away.
The leader's expression darkened. "That girl is a dangerous royal werewolf. It's best you leave her to us."
Roy smirked. He'd taken down demon lords from Hell; a royal werewolf didn't scare him. "Cut the crap. If I beat her once, I'm not worried about her causing trouble."
The leader's face twitched, but he relented. Abigail had been captured by Roy, so by any measure, the Shadowhunters had no claim to her.
"Fine, you can have the girl. But Clary comes with us."
Roy shot him a look like he was an idiot. "What, are you brain-dead? Clary's a free person. She decides who she goes with. I'm not her keeper. Clary, who're you going with?"
Clary hesitated, then grabbed Roy's arm. Compared to these random Shadowhunters, she trusted Roy more.
The leader's face turned stormy. This was humiliating. Desperate, he played his trump card. "Clary, don't you want to find your mother?"
Her eyes widened. "You know where she is?"
"I don't, but someone does."
Clary wavered. Her mother's whereabouts were at stake, and she struggled to decide. Finally, she looked to Roy for help.
"It's okay, Clary," Roy said gently. "I'll go with you. You'll be fine."
Clary nodded gratefully.
"Hey, you," Roy said to the leader. "I'm taking the dark-haired lady home first, then I'll go with you to your Shadowhunter base."
"It's Shadowhunters, and my name's Luke, not 'you'!"
"Unless your last name's Skywalker, you're just 'you' to me. I don't care what your name is."
Roy, Clary, and the dark-haired woman, along with a blank-faced Abigail, piled into the Bumblebee. First, they dropped the dark-haired woman off at her home in the city.
Having walked through the gates of Hell and back, the woman was immensely grateful, exchanging contact info with Roy and Clary.
"Stay away from the Dark Web," Roy warned. "That organization's dangerous."
The woman's expression dimmed. She'd only taken the criminal contract out of desperation.
Clary explained her situation to Roy, who thought for a moment before deciding to help. "I can offer you an interest-free loan to help your daughter through her illness. You can pay it back slowly with work."
The woman nearly dropped to her knees in gratitude. "Thank you, sir! I'll repay you, whatever it takes!"
Her words carried a suggestive undertone, likely genuine, though Roy's black-rimmed glasses hid his looks from strangers. As a single mom, the dark-haired woman had a fiery, Latina charm, but with Clary present, Roy kept things professional.
"Ahem! No need for that. I just want to help. Tomorrow, head to Roy Blake Studio. Someone will meet you there."
With that, Roy and Clary returned to the Bumblebee, ready to follow the Shadowhunters' convoy to their base.
The Shadowhunter base was hidden inside a private museum in downtown Los Angeles. As Roy and Clary entered the hall, a middle-aged man greeted them.
"Welcome to the Shadowhunter base, Miss Clary Frey, and… this unidentified gentleman."
The man was likely the real leader of the Shadowhunters. The black-clad leader who'd brought them in stood behind him.
"You the boss of these Shadowhunters?" Roy asked, sizing him up. Something about the man's demeanor screamed politician, not demon-hunter.
"Yes, you can call me Hodge Starkweather."
Hodge seemed unfazed by Roy's presence, likely informed in advance. Clary, unimpressed, got straight to the point. "You said you could find my mom. What are we waiting for?"
Hodge smiled warmly. "No need to rush. Shadowhunters have a ritual that uses blood ties to locate missing people. But our enemies are vampires—why not search in daylight?"
It was a solid point. Roy often rolled his eyes at horror movie characters who insisted on exploring haunted places at midnight. He began to see Hodge in a new light—not just a talker, but someone with field experience.
"Clary, Starkweather's got a point. It's almost dawn. Why don't we rest?" Roy suggested. He was fine, but Clary looked exhausted, and he didn't want her worn out if trouble arose.
Clary reluctantly nodded, suppressing her urgency.
"Excellent," Hodge said. "We have plenty of rooms for you to rest. How many do you need?"
"Two," Roy said.
"One!" Clary blurted out.
Roy raised an eyebrow at her choice.
"I… I'm a little scared," she admitted. After last night's terror, it was understandable.
"Alright, one room it is. I'll be there, so you don't need to worry."
Clary nodded, her face red.
In the room, Clary lay on the bed while Roy sat nearby.
"Clary, get some sleep."
"Don't you need to sleep too, Roy?"