AN: So I asked and you guys answered! Something I am so extremely thankful for! I've been working on this for a little bit, but between the reviews and PM's I thought I'd at least post a start to show you all that I've been listening! So I hope you enjoy! If you're new to my stories, you might want to start at City of the Unknown followed by City of Heartache first. And as always, a huge thank you to my readers! You guys contain so much awesome, it's ridiculous. Also, a monumental thank you to OrangeFizZ44 for being so incredibly encouraging and helpful and patient. Words cannot describe how much I appreciate it!

As always, please let me know what you think!

~ Prologue ~

Have you ever wished that your life was different?

Not that you had someone else's life, per se . . . but that your own life was just different somehow? That you were different somehow. Maybe you'd be richer or have more friends. Or maybe you want to be the smartest person in the world—or the best looking.

Or maybe you'd just opt for something simple.

Something easy.

Like having a sister who wasn't a sister so that it was acceptable to be in love with her.

Jace knew he sure would.

Not long after getting Clary's text, he also got word that the Clave had called for all able bodied Shadowhunters to Alicante. The Lightwoods especially. Something he thought would transpire, and had already resigned himself to. And now he was waiting in the entryway for Clary to arrive. Something's happened, she had said. Something big. Jace hated himself immediately for having thought that maybe she had changed her mind—that she didn't want him to be her brother anymore than he wanted to be, but that she wanted him to be something more. Something he shouldn't be. But for someone who had promised to only be her brother . . . it was a very unbrotherly thought. Running his fingers through his hair, he leaned against the wall and stared at the elevator with nervous tension. It had started to rise.

"Jace?"

Jace looked to his left as Izzy approached him. He gave a half-hearted smile. "What's up?" But before she could answer, the elevator rumbled to a stop and Clary had pulled the gates open. The sight of her so soon hit him like a mac truck. She was still just as beautiful as she had been earlier. And he was still just as screwed. He had never been so thankful for his ability to maintain his composure. Her green eyes were wide as she looked between him and Isabelle, and Jace pushed himself off the wall, turning to his sister. Not his actual sister—but . . . his other sister—by the Angel this is going to get confusing. "Did you need something, Iz?"

Isabelle was staring at Clary with what Jace was surprised to see was a mixture of irritation and longing. Longing for what, he didn't quite know. Shaking her head with a jerk, she met Jace's eyes. "Did you have anything you wanted washed before we leave?"

"Where are you guys going?" Clary asked, and Jace raised a brow curiously as Isabelle closed her own eyes, seeming to take a breath. She also didn't answer Clary's question. Since when did they stop getting along? But when Izzy opened her eyes again, she looked straight as Jace.

"Well?" She asked impatiently.

Jace shook his head. "No, Iz. Thanks though."

With that she walked off, not acknowledging Clary's presence at all. Something Clary noticed right away. "What was that about?"

Jace forced a smile. "Someone washed her wool cardigan." And when Clary just stared at him with incredulity, Jace couldn't help but counter with mock despair. "Do you have any idea what happens to wool that has not been cleaned properly? The horror!"

"Well, I wasn't the one who washed it," said Clary pointedly as she stared down the corridor in which Isabelle had disappeared. "Don't know why she's taking it out on me."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong," Jace grinned. "When it comes to Isabelle and her clothes, everyone is to blame and no one is above her wrath." Even as he said it, he had no idea why he was lying for her. What he did know, was that sooner or later Izzy would have to explain what the hell her sudden problem with Clary was.

But Clary only nodded at the explanation. "Makes sense. Actually, I'm glad I wasn't here when she found it."

"As you should be." Jace said logically, crossing his arms and looking at her without trying to look at her. Her emerald eyes glanced back up at him, and she could see the question burning in them. Might as well tell her before she asks again. "We're going to Idris. The Clave has called us all there—all Shadowhunters, anyway," he amended, seeing the look on her face. Not you. Don't even think about it—why are you smiling? Stop.

But she didn't stop smiling. "That works out perfectly!"

Jace shook his head. "You do realize that when I say the Clave called all Shadowhunters . . . I meant . . ." Not you. The last thing he needed was for Clary to be in Alicante, near the Clave. The questions they would ask her—the things they would make her do . . .

But Clary only rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I knew what you meant, but listen. After I left Taki's, I decided to go visit my mom—"

"Decided?" Jace cut in. "I thought you had to meet Luke somewhere?"

"He was still busy," Clary said absently, waving her hand. "But Madeleine was there! At the hospital, I mean."

Jace stared at her, trying to remember who Madeleine was. And then it hit him. "Shadowhunter, silver hair, was with Malik when I jumped off the roof of the Institute—tried stopping me?"

"Stopped Malik from stopping us," Clary corrected. Whatever. "And yes, that was her. She . . . she came to the hospital to tell me that she knows how to wake my mother! I guess she left Madeleine instructions should Valentine ever return. . ."

Jace stared at Clary with unease. "And what were these instructions?"

Beaming, Clary began to tell him about how she needed to seek out a warlock by the name of Ragnor Fell. Nope. How he had made Jocelyn a potion that would render her unconscious and that he was the only one who would be able to revive her. Nope, definitely not. That this particular warlock could be found in Idris—oh, fuck no—where he had lived for over a hundred years since becoming a teacher at the Shadowhunter Academy. But it wasn't until Clary added that it had to be her—that this warlock would be expecting her—that Jace could physically feel the blood draining from his face. She wanted to go to Idris—to Alicante. To the Clave. You can't! He wouldn't let her anywhere near the Clave! Not now. Not ever.

It was a second before Jace realized she had stopped talking and was staring at him with her wide Idris eyes, a light frown tugging on her lips. He was shaking his head in horror. "You're not going." He said with such firm venom that Clary took a nearly imperceptible step away from him. He didn't care. I wont let you. I won't let the Clave near you. "If I have to tie you up and sit on you until this insane whim of yours passes, you are not going to Idris."

Chomping down on his cheek, Jace's stomach plummeted helplessly as she stared at him as if he had slapped her, and he had to close his eyes to keep from seeing it. She didn't understand—of course she didn't. You haven't told her. But the Clave . . . he opened his eyes, meeting hers . . . they'll use you. Treat you like an experiment. I can't allow it—I won't allow it. Clary was tugging on her curls, her eyes bright as she glared at him, her initial happiness dampened by his foul reaction.

"But you're going." She finally said, and Jace swallowed hard.

"Yes, we're going." Seeing her lips pull into a razor thin line, he continued on hastily. "But we have to go." Didn't she understand that? Him, the Lightwoods—they had been called upon. Clary, on the other hand, had not. She didn't have to go anywhere. She could stay here with Luke, where it was safe. Jace swallowed. "The Clave's called every active Clave member who can be spared back to Idris for a massive council meeting about Valentine, and since we're the last people who've seen him—"

But Clary was already shaking her head, her fiery curls bouncing on her shoulders in a way that made his body flush in a very infelicitous fashion. "If you're going, why can't I go with you?"

God, she was stubborn! It was one of the things he loved and hated about her. But he just couldn't right now—didn't she get that? "Because it isn't safe for you there!" he snapped. Not with the Clave there. Not with Valentine possibly being there.

"Oh and it's so safe here?" She threw hands up angrily, her eyes burning with emerald fires. "I've nearly been killed a dozen times in the past month, and every time it's been right here in New York."

Don't you think I know that? He thought wretchedly. Don't you think it hasn't nearly killed me every single time? But he couldn't tell her that. And the fact that he couldn't tell her that only incensed him further. He sucked his breath in through his teeth. "That's because Valentine's been concentrating on the two Mortal Instruments that were here. He's going to shift his focus to Idris now, we all know it—"

"We're hardly as certain of anything as all that," spoke a familiar voice, and Jace closed his eyes, desperately trying to calm himself. It was Maryse. "And the Clave want's to meet Clarissa," she continued. "You know that Jace."

"The Clave can screw itself." Among other things. They wouldn't get Clary. Not her. But when he opened his eyes, he saw that Maryse looked amused as she moved toward them, stopping only a foot or so away and regarding Clary with curiosity. The same curiosity the Clave would show, he was sure.

"Jace," Maryse said absently, turning her deep blue eyes back to him, her tone maternal. "Language."

Jace blanched, looking at the woman he had wanted for so long to think of as his mother. Chewing on his cheek, he stared between her and Clary. Not her. Please don't let her go. He raked his fingers through his short hair. "The Clave wants a lot of things," Jace said with a hint of accusation and looking directly at Maryse. Remember? They wanted me. And we all saw how well that turned out. He knew it was a low blow, but he was desperate. "It shouldn't necessarily get them all." He stared, unfazed, when she glowered at him.

But then Maryse shook her head. "The Clave is often right, Jace. It's not unreasonable for them to want to talk to Clary, after what she's been through. What she could tell them—"

"I'll tell them whatever they want to know." Jace said to Maryse while capturing Clary's Idris eyes. I promise. But Maryse simply sighed, and Jace shook his head. Not her. And yet, he already knew what her answer was going to be—could see it in her eyes as she swept her gaze back to the short red headed girl that was both the love of his life and the bane of his existence.

"So you want to go to Idris, I take it?" Maryse asked Clary with the same professional politeness she reserved for visiting Shadowhunters. Not that Clary noticed or cared. Nor did she seem to notice Jace standing there shaking his head with enough force to cause whiplash—even though she was looking right at him, her own head nodding. Clary, I swear to the Angel—

"Just for a few days," Clary pleaded as her eyes slid past him. Jace tasted blood as he bit down hard to keep from screaming. Judging by the sudden flush of her face and the way she stammered her next words, however, he knew she was aware of his anger. "I won't be any trouble. I swear."

Wrong. So fucking wrong. You will be trouble—whether you mean to be or not. But he didn't say that. He didn't say anything as he stared at Clary with both rage and such a sickening panic that he thought he might throw up. You can't go. You won't . . . I can't let you. It was a moment before he realized that Maryse was responding to Clary, and he tried to focus on her. "—the question is whether you'll be willing to meet with the Clave while you're there. They want to talk to you. If you say no, I doubt we can get the authorization to bring you with us."

Jace shook his head. Or maybe he had never stopped shaking his head. Either way, "No—"

"I'll meet with the Clave."

Jace felt as if he'd been plunged into arctic waters and yet Maryse only sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Then it's settled." No. It's not. The outer rim of his sight went black, capturing Clary in some kind of tunnel vision. He would have to think of something . . . a way to keep her in New York. She wasn't going. There was no way he was letting her— "Jace," Maryse continued, "show Clary out and then come see me in the library. I need to talk to you."

He chewed on his cheek as he gave a sharp nod. And then he watched Maryse turn and walk away, lost in thought. Once she was gone, Jace cast a venomous glare at Clary. "Now look at what you've done."

But Clary only stared back defiantly. "I need to go to Idris, even if you can't understand why," she crossed her arms, her body rigid. "I need to do this for my mother."

'My mother'. This was the second time she had used those words. Not 'our mother'. He quickly shook away the thought, staring at her. And he did understand—better than she realized. Jace knew how important Jocelyn was to Clary, despite the fact that she had lied to her. To both of them. But he also knew what Clary didn't—something he may or may not have told her: No one but the people on the truck bed that night, knew about the rune that destroyed the ship. It had become something of an unspoken agreement between Jace and Luke. Because like him, the pack leader knew what would happen if the Clave ever learned of what Clary could do. As for Simon, Jace wasn't too worried the vampire would say anything to anyone. Who the hell did he know besides Clary anyway? In fact the boy could use more friends. Maryse on the other hand . . . .

"Maryse trusts the Clave too much," Jace said, his voice hollow as he stared back down the corridor. "She has to believe they're perfect, and I can't tell her they aren't, because—" he cut himself off, his father flashing before his eyes as he glanced nervously back at Clary. Because—

"Because that's something Valentine would say," she finished the thought for him without a trace of judgment, but more with understanding.

Jace looked away, his heart twisting as he stabbed the elevator button. "No one's perfect." He listened to the clang of the lift as it rumbled to life. "Not even the Clave."

"Is that really why you don't want me to come?" Clary demanded suddenly. "Because it isn't safe?"

Of course it is. What other reason—? Jace couldn't hide his surprise, the question having caught him off guard and momentarily stemming his anger. Clary's arms were crossed tightly and she looked both agitated and . . . something else. "What do you mean?" He asked when she didn't elaborate. And why was she staring at him like that? "Why else wouldn't I want you to come?"

A shadow crossed Clary's face, a pained look in her shining emerald eyes. "Because—" She hesitated, and Jace swallowed hard. Because why? Since he wasn't about to tell her his real reason for wanting her to stay, he could only imagine what other reasons she might be coming up with. And then without knowing how, he was sure he already knew. Because I promised to be your brother—a promise I've made and broken before—and could easily break again. Because you want to be my sister and nothing more and maybe you think that the last thing I want is to see you every time I turn around . . . reminding me that . . .

He used it.

"Because I don't want my little sister following me everywhere?"

Clary's breath hitched and she looked away quickly. Not quick enough. Jace saw the hurt his words had caused her and instantly regretted saying them. Biting the inside of his cheek, the elevator rang out its arrival and Clary pushed past him silently and pulled open the gate. Jace wanted desperately to grab her and stop her and apologize and swear that he didn't mean what he had said. But he couldn't. Not this time. He absolutely loathed himself for it—for hurting her—but what choice had he been left with? He had to protect her. I will protect you, even if it means making you hate me.

Jace tried to capture her eyes but she refused, staring studiously forward as she stepped into the elevator. Turning slowly, her shoulders rigid with tension, Clary finally cast a pained look back at him. "I'm not going because you'll be there," she said, her words wavering as her throat constricted. Please don't cry, he thought with dismay, his fists clenching tightly. Her tears were like crashing waves to him, knocking him over and drowning him. He would do anything to keep them from falling. "I'm going because I want to help my mother. Our mother," she continued, her voice cracking and her eyes swimming. And it took Jace everything he had to keep from grabbing her and comforting her. He silently dug his heels into the floor. Please . . . please don't do this. "I have to help her. Don't you get it?" I do, Clary . . . I really do, but— "If I don't do this, she might never wake up." And then she shook her head sadly with disappointment. "You could at least pretend you care a little bit."

But I do care you stupid beautiful mundane Shadowhunter—Fuck!

Jace's resolve broke, his hands darting out of their own accord and gripping her shoulders. He could feel the heat of her body against his palms and the silk of her skin under his fingertips as he brushed them past her shirt collar. He had to bite down on his cheek as the soft touch shot a current of electricity up his arm. Clary's eyes went wide as he took a small step forward, invading her personal space and leaving only inches between them. And when he spoke, his voice was soft, pleading, urgent. "Let me do it," he begged. "I can help her for you." I would do anything for you. "Tell me where to go, who to ask." Please don't go, Clary. Please. Stay here. For me. "I'll get you what you need." I promise. By the Angel, I promise . . . I will do this if you just—

"Madeleine told the warlock I'd be the one coming," she sighed. "He'll be expecting Jocelyn's daughter, not Jocelyn's son."

Jace's body twitched involuntarily at her words—I don't care what he's expecting!—his grip on her tightened. "So tell her there was a change of plans," he pleaded. Please. Please do this. "I'll be going, not you. Not you."

"Jace—"

But he wasn't listening to reason anymore. Because nothing she said was even remotely reasonable. Dropping his head so that he was level with her, he looked beseechingly into the eyes that reminded him of a warm country meadow. Slowly, he moved his hands up her shoulders and cupped her neck, his thumbs grazing her jawline. "I'll do whatever," he took an unsteady breath. "Whatever you want—" Just not this. Anything but this. "—so long as you promise to stay here." I would bend over backwards to make you happy, Clary. But I will kill myself to keep you safe. Please.

"I can't."

The words were whispered—soft, even—but they packed a punch. Jace felt himself stumbling backward, his hands flying to his head as panic and hysteria consumed him, "Why not?"

"Because she's my mother," implored Clary.

"And mine," he shot back irritably, crossing his arms. "In fact, why didn't Madeleine approach both of us about this? Why just you?"

"You know why."

The words were like a knife through his heart. But when he spoke, his tone was as soft as a feather lined with ice. "Because to her you're Jocelyn's daughter. But I'll always be Valentine's son." Clary's eyes went wide with pity. He hated pity. Especially from her. Reaching out, he snagged the elevator gate and slammed it closed.

"Jace—"

But whatever she was going to say, had been drowned out by Jace as he jabbed the button savagely to send her down.

Once the elevator was out of sight, he took a step back. And then another one. There was no way she was going to Idris—no way he was going to allow the Clave to talk to her—to use her. He would think of something. He had to. He would stop her. But he would need help. He would need someone Clary would listen to—since she's not listening to me. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Jace scrolled through it until he found the number he wanted. But then he hesitated as he stared at the name of the last person he ever thought he'd call for help.

No. Simon was definitely more of a last resort.

Slowly, he turned his phone over in his hands. Besides, it would do him well to wait and get more information first. That way he could be sure. Not to mention that if Jace called him now, before he knew all the details, the vampire might tell Clary. But then Simon might just tell her anyway, even with all the facts. Because he's an asshole. So there was that.

Staring back down at his phone, he scrolled up to another number and hit the call button.

It was picked up on the first ring.

"Magnus? It's Jace."

"You don't say?" Came the warlocks voice. "And here when I saw your name flash across my screen, I thought it might just be a typo and that it was really the Pope calling me back. Disappointing really. You see, I did him a bit of a favor awhile back and—"

"I get it," Jace said cutting him off, not in the mood. "Look, I need your help."

"Of course you do."

It was all Magnus said, but Jace hesitated briefly at hearing the resignation in the warlocks tone. He didn't hesitate long, the words rushing from his mouth. "Clary wants to go to Idris."

"So?"

"So it would be bad," Jace practically shouted into the receiver, before forcing himself to take a calming breath. "If she goes, the Clave is going to want to talk to her and . . . and they'll find out."

"Find out what?" Magnus sounded bored. "Oh, that she destroyed the ship with her uncanny ability?"

"You know about that?" Jace sputtered. But he gathered himself quickly as he paced in front of the elevator, his eyes darting around to make sure no one was nearby listening in.

"Of course I know," Magnus said with a tone suggesting that Jace should have realized this as well. "At least I had guessed. Especially after hearing the ridiculous alternative of an Infernal Conversion gone wrong. Valentine is evil, yes, but not stupid."

Jace's stomach twisted nervously. "Have you told anyone?" he demanded. "Have you told Alec?" The resulting silence was so long that Jace checked his phone to make sure the line hadn't gone dead before placing it back to his ear. "Magnus—"

"Alec and I have not spoken since the night on the East River." The warlocks tone was clipped. "And no one else has inquired, so no . . . the topic hasn't come up. Out of curiosity however, what did she use to do it?"

Now it was Jace's turn to pause. He knew he would have to tell Magnus the truth, but that also meant one more person knowing, regardless of whether the warlock had already guessed or not. And then he remembered Clary in the ship, drawing the rune that would destroy it, and Jace knew he needed help. He couldn't let the Clave take her. "The Rune of Opening," he finally admitted miserably. On the other end of the line he heard Magnus echo his words softly.

"But a Rune of Opening is not capable—ah . . ." the warlock trailed off as Jace sunk further into despair. "She amplified it. Changed it."

"Yes." Jace breathed wretchedly. "So you understand now why she can't go—what the Clave would do to her if—if they find out."

"I imagine she would be a curiosity to them," Magnus mused. "Much like you will be."

"I can handle myself," Jace said tersely. "But Clary, she—" he chomped down on his cheek as he imagined Clary, her fiery red curls and emerald eyes, stubbornly standing in the Accords hall, surrounded by Council members who were staring at her like a spider would a fly. He couldn't let that happen! "—is there anyway that you can keep her from going? A spell of binding you can cast?"

"You want me—" Magnus began slowly, "—a downworlder—to perform a binding spell? On a Shadowhunter?"

Jace swallowed. "Yes."

Another long pause. And then, "Sorry, but getting myself in trouble with the Clave is not exactly at the top of my list of things to do right now, buttercup. But I'm sure you can understand that." And the truth was, Jace did understand. But that didn't mean he had to like it—and was even prepared to argue it, despite the finality in Magnus's tone, when the warlock spoke again. "Look," he said pityingly and Jace jerked his head irritably. "I feel for you—I do. Clary is the first human I have ever watched grow up, so call it a parental desire to protect her—which is more than I can say for you and your reasons—but, you just have to accept that she's going."

Jace chewed on his cheek, his hand shaking as it held his phone tightly to his ear. "So you wont help her?"

"I won't help you."

Jace hung up, squeezing his phone hard enough to hear a crack. Loosing his grip, he shoved it back in his pocket. He would think of something. He would . . . Not her. Turning, he raked both hands roughly through his hair and headed down the corridor that lead to the library. She wasn't going. He would stop her somehow. There had to be a way—something that might keep her here. Because there was one thing he was certain of.

Clary was not going.

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