SIN CITY — PART 2
"My brother is a stickler for the rules. He likes order and logic sense. He doesn't trust strangers easily. To you, I'm sure he can seem cold and unwelcoming, but in truth, his ability to not let emotions get the best of him makes him a superior warrior. And it's how we were raised. How all Shadowhunter children are raised," Isabelle admitted, opening the door and leading the way back towards the command center. She suspected there were other reasons Alec didn't particularly care for Clary's company. Jace's response to her, how it affected him, being one of them. But Isabelle didn't want to voice this aloud. "So, my advice to you when you're out there together is to follow his lead. Don't stray. Do what he tells you. If he tells you to hide, hide. If he tells you to run, run. If he tells you to do a cartwheel, cartwheel your little butt off. Because the fact is he will defend you with his life. And all he asks in return is that you make it easier on him by not putting yourself or anyone else in danger."
"I can do that," Clary supplied.
How hard could it be? Assuming that they were still talking about their clothing mission and not Vegas. Who knew how Clary'd react when another creature came barreling at her face? At least she'd been at home then and had some stuff at her disposal. Out in the open, with another can of Lysol… Who knew.
"You are still coming with us?"
Fray said that now, but Isabelle wondered if she would actually manage to see it through. Despite their sheep-mentality, it wasn't in mundanes' nature to follow orders without asking questions or understanding why, and because she'd been raised as one Isabelle assumed there would only be so long until that caused a new conflict.
Isabelle opened her mouth to answer when she heard someone call her name.
"Isabelle?"
She turned to see Natalie, one of the Institute's forensics, approach.
"I've just finished writing the reports on the Dahak case and I could use a second opinion before I send them off to The Clave. Do you have time? Daniel is out on an assignment."
Isabelle nodded and flashed her a smile, "I'll be right there."
Natalie turned on her heel and disappeared back towards the lab, where Isabelle herself spent a lot of time when not out on missions.
"Guess it's just you and Alec," Isabelle told Clary, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder because she could sense Fray wasn't too thrilled with the idea. "You'll be fine. Wait here. He should be back any minute."
Isabelle gave her an encouraging smile in parting and followed Natalie to the lab, secretly pleased with how things had turned out. Alec could deny it all he wanted, but it was clear to anyone who knew him he had a problem with the girl and it wouldn't resolve itself with him hiding from her.
Clary tried to smile back but was failing immensely. She wasn't the one with an issue on this and knew it wasn't that bad, but Clary doubted Alec would see it the same way.
When Alec returned to the control room and saw the redhead stand there alone, his heart sank in a foreboding.
Izzy, dammit! Why do all girls have to be sly like that?
He approached the troublemaker, bracing his indignation that was beginning to steam. "Where is she?"
Alec's expression didn't inspire Clary. He looked as if someone had kicked his puppy or bow repeatedly. "She got called to look at another case."
Alec studied her for a long moment, trying to decipher whether Izzy told her to say that or it was true. She didn't seem to be lying.
Nevertheless, he wasn't surprised. The irony was that it'd be the same outcome in any case.
"Let's go."
He accepted that fairly easily. Clary was thankful for that.
He patted his jacket for the keys, located them, and headed for the garage. He rolled one of the bikes out, not bothering with helmets, and straddled it on the curb outside the Institute fence.
She trailed him out of the Institute, wondering when the wards they'd placed to keep her inside would kick in and if there was something special he'd have to do to deactivate them.
Only it didn't seem necessary.
Maybe they'd already done it?
"Not a safety first kind of guy?" she asked, waiting until he was seated on the bike before moving to slid onto the back, being careful about her hand placement since it was awkward. "Can you even die by means of an accident?"
Could she?
"We're mortal, just like mundanes. But it's harder to kill us due to our powers. You, however, should be worried if you can't hold on tight. You're free to go back and take a helmet if you're scared."
He stuck the key into the ignition.
"I'm not scared." A lie. She was, but for an entirely different reason.
What was waiting for her back at home?
She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him from behind, an action that made her smile awkwardly and unwittingly appreciate the freshly showered scent clinging to him.
Alec winced, battling annoyance as she clung to him tighter contradicting her statement that she wasn't afraid.
He turned the key and pulled from the curb, speeding up as they went, maneuvering among the cars.
Clary had been on the back of a motorbike one other time in her life and somehow it felt as if there were more risk to it this time. And there was. What if something flew out and knocked them off the thing and neither of them was wearing helmets? Did he even worry about that?
She tightened her arms even further at the instinctive rush as he sped up, eyes sweeping closed so she could save herself from looking and seeing what was coming, instinctively weaving with him.
Her arms tightened like vice, and he could almost sense she was trembling and her heart was thrashing against his back. She'd sink her claws into him like a spooked cat if she could, and the image was simultaneously amusing and irking.
She could've taken the helmet when he suggested. But girls were big on proving they were tough same as many boys were. Among mundanes, that was. And by every sign, she still was one. Like a kid raised by wolves and trying to live among people.
He kept a sharp eye around for any possible demonic spies, but noticed none thus far. His invisibility rune was working fine for both of them, but he would activate her own when they got to her apartment. It would make it safer.
It took them a record-worthy fifteen minutes to get to the building in question. He slowed down and stopped a dozen yards short of the door, killed the engine and pocketed the key.
"Get off and stick close."
By the time he slowed and stopped, she'd opened her eyes long enough to notice that they were on a familiar street and really close to home.
She removed her arms from his waist, eased off the back of the bike and took a minute to get her sea legs. The ride had been nice and if her eyes had been open and her heart racing less as if it were trying to kill her and more regularly, it'd be enjoyable.
Pity about her hair, she hadn't taken that into consideration or the fact that it would whip all over the place, particularly her nostrils.
She scratched her nose and chuckled softly at her stupidity, waiting on his next command, eyeing the streets and faces in search of someone familiar. Simon.
The way she was searching the street was obvious enough. Alec got off the bike and produced his stele.
"Give me your arm. And whoever you may see here, remember that they don't see you, nor are they supposed to. If you want to live, that is."
She blinked guiltily and extended her requested arm.
She'd promised Isabelle earlier that she wouldn't do anything stupid and even agreed that the Lightwood girl was right about Simon and his safety, and yet her eyes and heart had automatically searched for him.
"By they, I assume, you mean mundanes? How come you guys don't have a handy rune thing to cloak yourselves from demons?"
"Mundanes are deaf and blind by nature, all their senses are muffled, and even animals see and hear more."
He took her offered arm, pushed her sleeve up and drew a rune of invisibility on the inner side of her forearm. It flared as if burning into the skin and darkened. Clary glanced down at the rune he drew, watching the skin fizzle and burn as if he were branding it, surprised that there wasn't more pain in its scribe. He let go of her and hid the stele, starting for the door. She didn't feel any different once it glowed and then settled as if a door had been unlocked.
Clary had been trying to accustom herself to the tattoo on her neck for days and now she had another that was equal in color. She'd never considered tattoos before, and as much as she enjoyed art and all its edges, putting something on yourself was a big choice – only she didn't appear to have any here.
What happened once they ran out of space to use? Would other melt together? There was so much she wanted to know, so much she wanted to ask she knew couldn't be found in the few books they'd let her read. She didn't think Alec would appreciate the trivia questions, though, so she didn't ask, merely grateful that he'd gotten her here safely and that he was helping her at all.
"Demons, like other supernaturals, have their sensors open for energy and not for matter like humans," Alec said. "It's close to impossible to hide from them. Our job is not hiding - we're preserving the balance. We're not criminals or cowards to hide."
Unfolding his bow, he proceeded for the door, then slipped inside and held it letting her in. The neighbor-witch's door was closed and didn't feel particularly dangerous, so he led the way upstairs.
She followed him up the stairs, into the apartment complex, sticking behind him for the most part despite her urge to run ahead and do the whole 'honey, I'm home' thing.
Once they hit her apartment—the first thing Clary noticed was that the front door had been repaired—and that was it. Everything else was still the same. The burnt up stove, the destroyed couch, the pictures and paintings scattered everywhere from her fight with that demon and her mother's struggles. After Alec cleared the ground floor and gave her the all clear, she picked up her family pictures, swiping the glass from the frames, and setting some back on the shelf they'd been knocked from. She could feel tears begin to gather behind her eyes.
Stupid.
She heaved a sigh, shaking off the melancholy, all too aware that it wasn't helpful to any of them. Not her, not her mother, and certainly not Alec. She needed to be stronger than she was.
"Bedroom?" she offered, already making her way for the narrow hallway, deciding to take the lead this time.
Once Alec made sure the living room and the kitchen were clear, he checked the rest pretty quickly - their apartment was rather small.
There was chaos and ruins, like some abandoned place where memories of the scuffle lingered like an ancient ghost.
He didn't respond, merely followed her to the bedroom. The paintings and drawings of the Angelic Power rune were stapled all over the walls. It was what Magnus told them about: her memory was surfacing and signaling her mother about it.
"We can't stay long," he reminded. "You have ten minutes. Make it count."
She gave a nod and curled a hand into a fist, refraining from plucking the sheets of various paper with runes on it from the wall. She'd forgotten about this particular mess.
Clary threw open the cupboard, scrambling around inside until she found a bag, one of the few she actually had. They hadn't travelled much and she rarely slept over anywhere but at Simon's place and she had a spare set of clothing there.
The same as what he had here.
She dumped the collection of pencils, paints and old sketchbooks to the bottom of the cupboard, pouring the rest of the shaving and muck onto the top of it. It wasn't very big.
An old glitter pink backpack she'd gotten in the first grade and later doodled on.
She stuffed a couple pairs of underwear into the bottom, deciding that she could rotate through them as needed by handwashing, and then helped herself to two pairs of jeans, a short selection of tank tops, t-shirts with stripes, one sweater and a jacket. She didn't bother with make-up or jewelry. The shoes would have to go in an extra carry bag.
She set it all down on her bed and dashed for the kitchen, returning a second later to collect her shoes. One pair of boots and a set of sneakers for training.
After throwing in some perfume, grabbing her favorite shampoo, hairbrush, hair elastics and her art supplies in its actual tackle box, Clary was ready to go. She was taking liberties with the pleasure items. She tied the shoes to the top half of the glitter bag so that she'd have one hand free, adjusted the straps to their longest and eased it onto her back before grabbing the box by its handle. "I think that's it."
She shut the cupboard doors and removed the runes stuck to it, tossing them toward the trash in a feeble attempt to clean it up.
"Will I ever be able to come back here?" She knew he was the wrong person to ask such a sentimental question but suddenly she needed to know.
Alec tried to not look what she was stuffing into the bag to not get annoyed again, but it was hard to miss as she dashed around collecting shards of her former life.
Her question made him cringe inside. "I'm not the judge of that. But I wouldn't count on it happening anytime soon. Are you done?"
"Yeah," she supplied, sort of relieved he hadn't plied her with some kind of hopeful lie about how everything was going to be okay and go back to normal.
It never would.
She opened the cupboard again, slipped the box of supplies back into their hole, deciding that it was stupid to want to take them when there wasn't space.
She'd figure it out later.
Clary shut the door and strode out of the bedroom without looking back, heading for the shelf in the living room, helping herself to one of the pictures from the broken frames, tucking it into her pocket before slowly heading for the door allowing him to take the lead again.
Alec watched her leave the box behind with a face of someone who'd made her mind about something, and followed her back to the trashed parlor where she picked a picture from a shelf. "You sure it's all you're taking? Because this is the chance. The one chance."
No, I'm not the least bit sure. "I'm good." Saying that, she felt anything but. "Ten minutes and counting, right?"
He regarded her, searching himself for all the things Jace threw at him earlier. Compassion, sympathy... They were there, in the background, pushed aside by how little sense he saw in clinging to the life that was fake to begin with.
It wasn't so for her, and Alec understood it. But it was hard to make space for someone's weakness when he had been taught to destroy all the traces of his own.
He sighed. "You can have three more minutes if they can save you. Just... take what you really can't breathe without."
She'd expected him to support her want to leave, to practically push her out the door, and when he didn't, Clary had to look at him twice, grateful and studying as if for the first time.
"Thank you." She didn't know what else to say and her body seemed to comply immediately. She dashed back down the hall to her room, cursing her weakness when she'd been so determined before.
She freed up an old over the shoulder bag she'd meant to use once she started at the Brooklyn Academy of Arts, a staple that she'd remembered she'd set down on her dresser but had disappeared amongst the glossary of stenciled runes. She loaded it with pencils, an old sketchpad that had a few of her newer artworks, and then made her way to her mother's room.
Clary hadn't needed to go in there before but it looked as if it had been turned over. All her stuff was on the floor, her bed unmade, her shoes practically thrown around the place while her scarf hung from the ceiling fan like feeble Christmas decorations. She freed it off the blades, slipped it around her neck, briefly allowing the fabric that contained her mother's comforting scent to encase her.
If she really let her imagination go, Clary could even pretend her mom was holding her.
No time for that.
She rifled through Jocelyn's jewelry box, observing that a few special pieces had been taken and that whoever had come here, whoever had taken her, had helped themselves to her stuff, too.
Clary checked her mom's room over, unsure of what she could take that would help once she found Jocelyn, and then slowly started back to the living room where Alec had been patiently waiting.
Alec didn't follow her back into the rooms; he figured he could do without getting antsier as she was collecting all the things she would hardly need for anything other than driving herself into the murky depths of melancholy and depression. He strolled around the parlor, careful not to step onto the broken things littering the floors. He checked the kitchen once again, scanning the black marks on the walls and deformed fridge gaping with its racks askew.
And then, he felt something else, just like a foreboding back at the Institute when Izzy wasn't waiting anymore, but this time, it was something worse than just his sister's whim.
With gooseflesh rising along his spine like a comber of ice, Alec got to the window and glimpsed two hunters striding from where his bike was parked. Valentine's men. Had to be.
As they approached, a couple of black Rottweilers ran ahead and into the small garden in front of the building's door.
Alec dashed to the white apartment's door, producing his stele to draw a locking rune. It was a temporary solution, but he needed just a bit of time, and it was going to buy him that.
The rune glared red and blue and sealed the door for the time being.
And then, Clary came out, looking happier. She offered him a small smile and walked to the door, gesturing to it, signaling that she was ready to go. "After you."
He pulled her away from the knob by the arm before she reached for it.
"No, too late for the normal leave." Alec shoved a knife into her hand and searched for a proper wall around the parlor, then went for it, pushing the couch aside. "Cut your palm quick."
The smile evaporated from her face when he pulled her from the door and instructed that she cut herself, gratefulness quickly superseded by panic.
He closed his eyes momentarily, forcing his energy to calm, then began to draw the rune. His pulse accelerated as the magic drew its fill to make the rune work.
Behind the door, the dogs were barking, their claws scratching against the wood, their bodies bumping into it to blast through the block.
Clary swallowed hard as the door rattled on its hinges, the sound of ferocious barking almost crippling, bringing forth an image of the one she'd had to face herself. Her hand was shaking as she pressed the blade to her palm and closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus, to not waste time or think about it as she usually would. Clary winced as it cut through the flesh, pinching, blood pooling, every bit of what she had on her back and shoulder resting against her thigh feeling like an anchor as she moved toward him.
We were stupid to have come here; I was stupid!
Clary kept a hold of the knife but extended the wounded hand toward him when he finished drawing his rune. "Like this?"
When Alec finished the rune, his heart was thrashing in the base of his throat and hot and cold flashes combed through him like he had a very human flu.
He shoved the stele back into his pocket and turned to her, taking her offered hand and turning it so the pooled blood dripped onto his palm he held under it.
He let go, put her bloody palm over the rune and closed his eyes, focusing the energy to open the portal. He felt a pull deep inside his solar plexus, gentle at first and growing in its strength as if there was a black hole opening to drain him. It went on for a moment that felt too long, and then his palm flashed in heat as if fire burst through it, and the wall wobbled as if it were a hologram. Shaking a bit as if he had spent the last three hours sprinting, he stepped away and pulled the girl to him by the shoulder.
Clary frowned as he held her bleeding hand over his, capturing the blood, adding it to the graffiti he'd hastily slapped on the wall. It didn't take long before it began to warble, her stomach dropping into her feet. She knew what this was without him having to tell her as she'd travelled within something quite similar only once before.
"Focus on the Institute," Alec instructed, shooting a glance at the door where the rune was fading. Another two blows would do it in.
She cast a quick glance at him, observed that he looked more pale and worn-out. She'd assumed that he'd be going with her and that this was their quick exit but before she knew it, he'd demanded she focus on the Institute and left her with a familiar tugging as the world shifted and changed.
He pushed Clary into the wobbling wall, and as soon as she went in, the wall became its own dense self. The knife went with Clary, so he grabbed his bow and aimed at the door with one of the explosive arrows. He shot it into the middle of the failing rune, then dove out through the window; it shattered around him as he went down.
A moment later, the arrow exploded in the apartment upstairs.
A second's disorientation as Clary appeared on the other side – in the green house. One of the many places in the Institute she found to be beautiful and took comfort in.
She threw off her bags and knife, leaving them in front of the stone bench in the middle of the garden, and hurried for the exit, charging toward the control room where they'd left Isabelle.
Looking over the reports didn't take long, nor did Isabelle find any faults within them. Natalie was a skilled forensic scientist and it was highly rare she ever made mistakes. And yet, it had become somewhat of a protocol that they always had someone check their work before they sent it to the Clave. Just in case. They wanted to make a good impression and for the high standards of the New York Institute to remain just that – high.
Once finished, Isabelle made her way back to the control center, arranging for detailed maps of Las Vegas to be downloaded to both her and Alec's phones for their journey. The kind of maps that also showed Downworlder establishments usually hidden from the mundanes.
It was then that Clary came running in, looking haggard and a little out of breath, panic evident on her face. Isabelle immediately pushed away from the machine she'd been using. "What happened? Where's Alec?"
Clary's gaze immediately locked on Isabelle's as she charged into the room, ignoring the many other eyes that were on her, following her as the girls met in the middle. "Demons came to the apartment and Alec sent me here!"
Clary was talking louder than was necessary, gaze darting around the command room frantically, expecting him to appear in the same fashion she did. She'd seen his face, though, the wornness, and knew he'd overexerted himself by making sure she got away safely.
"There were a lot of them! Two of those demon dogs for sure!"
Isabelle took Clary by the elbow and steered her away from the most crowded part of the room, concern for her brother's safety immediately spiking but not allowed to take over for her rational thinking. "Sent you here? Sent you how?"
Clary felt her racing heart slow slightly as Isabelle took a hold of her arm, comforted by her presence and the fact that she'd now be able to take care of this. "He sent me through a rune… a portal." She raised her injured hand, still bleeding, only just having remembered it and the pain.
Isabelle took her injured hand in hers, giving it a cursory glance as she pulled her stele from its holster and activated the healing rune on Clary's neck, allowing the cut on her palm to close as Isabelle looked her over for other potential wounds. She seemed okay. Frightened, but okay.
Clary didn't watch the wound heal as much as she felt it, the hand curling into itself, brushing against her pants that probably had a blood stain on them somewhere.
"At your apartment?" Isabelle asked. "He opened the portal at your apartment?"
It was a risky move and one they only used in true emergencies, the process was too draining. Isabelle returned to the desk she'd been occupying just before Clary arrived and picked up her phone, hitting up Alec on speed-dial, hoping he had made it out.
Clary nodded to confirm and shadowed Isabelle to the desk, nibbling on a nail nervously while she waited on something from the Lightwood girl, some sign of what they were going to do.
The landing was harsher than it had to be – Alec was too drained to use his powers properly. The collision with the ground knocked the air out of him as he rolled over his head to soften the blow, and his vision darkened for a few dangerous seconds when he heard nothing else but his heart thudding in his temples like a stampede of wild horses.
Before it cleared out, something bumped into him with a growl, and they rolled into the asphalt, breaking the fencing around the small makeshift garden around the building. The world came into focus on a set of spittle-dripping canine teeth snapping in front of his face. Alec was clutching at the dog's thick neck, pushing into it with all the little strength he had left. It was terribly strong for the limited amount of stamina Alec had to offer. The explosion must have knocked the two Circle hunters out, but one of them was getting down the stairs. Alec could hear his groans and curses, thundering steps. There was another voice, too. Both were alive. If the second dog would come out to jump him, he was done.
His arms were shaking, the dog was unrelenting in its efforts. Its head began to shift; the tentacles with venomous spikes would come out, and then Alec could also kiss his life goodbye. He couldn't push it away as it was, but there was a chance he could use.
Of course, sacrifices still had to be made.
Alec gnashed his teeth and loosened his hold. The dog's jaws snapped onto his shoulder; the pain shot through his arm and into his neck like a blast of gunpowder set alight. That, and the momentary reset he offered to his muscles allowed him to throw the beast off as he pulled his legs up and helped himself with a kick of his feet.
Ignoring the pain and blinking daylight threatening to go off, he rolled onto his fours and pushed off the ground, running for the bike. The dark hunter was already out the door and running to him, the damned dog in tow, tentacles swaying.
On physical automatic memory, Alec stuck the key into the lock, turned and sped up past them, making a U-turn, then ran the bike over the dog and toward the street. One of its tentacles nipped him in the arm, cutting through the jacket, but Alec didn't care for as long as he could get away.
The holographic screen came on, setting the route for the Institute and asking if he needed it to drive. With his body on fire and head swimming, he did. He swiped over the accept option and held on tighter, setting his jaw to grasp at consciousness.
Just a few miles, and then the rune would take care of all this mess.
The phone was buzzing in his pocket, but he didn't feel it through the combers of chill.
He didn't answer. Which could mean a myriad of things, yet none of the comforting reasons popped into Isabelle's mind. Only the less pleasant ones.
She ended the call and turned to Clary again. "He used one of the bikes?"
She assumed so since cars weren't exactly helpful in New York City with its crowded streets and stalled traffic. The bikes allowed them to dart in and out between the queues, allowed to make quick getaways. On Clary's confirmation, Isabelle looked over her shoulder at Raj, another fellow Shadowhunter currently working on one of the other machines.
"Track Alec's bike for me. He might be in trouble."
Raj didn't hesitate to comply, bringing up the holographic maps of the city and narrowing in on the blinking red dot that marked Alec's location. "Looks like he's headed back for The Institute," he said after a few moments.
Clary stood close by but out of the way Shadowhunters, eyeing the red dot as it blinked along the holographic map. She prayed that he was okay, guilty for wasting so much time and for even requesting the change in clothes now that they'd been attacked. She knew it was a possibility that it could have happened, but she hadn't really imagined that it would. Clary guessed, despite her mother's appearance, she'd been in the frame of mind that she was okay – that it was going to be okay – maybe she'd just been naively hopeful.
"Get a medic ready." An order meant for anyone who had the capacity to follow it, and as Isabelle headed for the exit she saw several people rush into action. "Stay here," she told Clary, hurrying out of the room and for the elevators, intending to meet her brother outside in case he needed help.
Clary scrubbed a hand through her hair, wincing when it stuck in a knot, discomfort created by the helmetless ride. Clary freed up her hand, feeling stupid and useless, and gave another nod when Isabelle demanded she stay. She didn't want to get in the way or hinder anything.
The computer was following a longer route, avoiding the thickest traffic jams that Alec wouldn't have looped around if he were driving. He was nodding in and out, which was alarming, but he felt bad enough without additional reasons to worry. It took efforts to focus on staying awake – at least partially awake for long enough to not fall off.
When the Institute garage's gate finally slid open letting him in, it all looked like a blurry dream. The voices around him echoed as if put through some annoying sound filter.
The motion stopped, and Alec slumped forward, letting his eyes close.
For just a moment, he thought to himself weakly. Just a moment…
It didn't take long before the garage doors opened to allow Alec entrance, but those few minutes Isabelle had to wait felt like an eternity. The bike was clearly in auto-drive and her brother immediately slumped forward once it came to a halt. A few of the guards stationed in the underground garage helped pull him off the bike and like with Clary before, Isabelle activated his healing rune, unaware of the full extent of his injuries but seeing enough blood to know he'd need it.
They helped her get him into the elevator and upstairs where the medic was waiting with a gurney. It was protocol. Most of their physical injuries could be healed with runes, but not all and it was standard procedure to take a wounded soldier to the infirmary.
The vortex of thudding pain calmed a little when Alec felt the familiar rune's energy like a balm on his wounds. It made it easier to breathe, and his head cleared a little – enough to let the awareness back in.
He was in the elevator, probably going to the infirmary, and the shoulder still stung. He was tired, too tired to fight the urge to relax and let his eyes close. Izzy was nearby, he could feel her presence, and then hear her voice. It had to be her who activated the healing rune and organized the command center. He felt a stroke of pride and gratitude through the fatigue.
All things aside, it wasn't the best timing to pull off a portal rune and get bit by a demon dog.
Clary gasped softly when after what felt like an eternity, the troop of Shadowhunters appeared with Alec on a stretcher. There were tears in her eyes as Clary watched him rolled to the infirmary. She'd been damned weak. And for what? A sweater and some art supplies?
Isabelle followed in their wake, grabbing Clary's hand and pulling her with to the infirmary. It wouldn't be long until word of this reached their parents and Isabelle dreaded that moment, expecting whatever had happened would be blamed on her for not accompanying the two as backup. And maybe she deserved that. But she tried not to think about it. It wasn't important right now. The only thing that mattered was Alec.
"Is he seriously hurt?" Clary asked as Isabelle guided her after the trail of staff, considerate enough to perhaps read her distress or in need of a friend. "Is he going to be okay?"
"He's going to be fine," Isabelle said, sounding more confident than she felt, listening to the medic list off her brother's damages, what the rune was taking care of and what else needed extra tending to. The positives were that whatever poison may have entered Alec's system through the demon dog bite was easy enough to heal. And demon pox could only be contracted through sexual contact with a demon – in this case highly unlikely.
Isabelle pulled Clary aside when they began to strip Alec of his shirt, putting some distance between the bed and them, but remaining close enough that she could observe for herself what they were doing. A few new runes were being added to his torso. Isabelle recognized them as ones that would help him restore the energy lost while creating a portal for Clary.
"Are you okay?" Isabelle asked her after a few moments, looking her over again. "Did they hurt you?"
Clary had never known herself to be docile or a follower, and yet, as Isabelle pulled her aside, out of the way of the people working on Alec, it felt like the least that Clary could do.
She shook her head. She definitely wasn't okay but she wasn't hurt.
Clary glanced down at her healed palm, evidence solidified by a thinly dried strip of blood and the only trace of her part in this whole ordeal.
"I'm really sorry," Clary stated, looking up again, briefly meeting Isabelle's eyes before allowing them to focus on Alec.
Isabelle frowned, trying to read the expression on her face. "Sorry about what?"
Clary dragged her focus from her brother and fixed her eyes on Izzy's face, trying to gauge her own thoughts and her 'what'. "The demons, for getting Alec into trouble for a pair of jeans and some boots."
She should have just stuck with what she'd been given.
"Clary, this isn't your fault. If we had thought this would happen, we wouldn't have gone." At the very least Isabelle wouldn't have let them go alone. She'd assumed Valentine's men didn't still hang about the Fairchillds' apartment, considering none had appeared on their surveillance the past few weeks. Why they'd shown up today, how they'd known, was unclear. It could have been pure coincidence. Or they could have designed some sort of alarm system to alert them to Clary's presence.
After tracking Alec's bike Isabelle had dispatched a group of soldiers to the apartment, just in case the Circle members were lingering or there were clues behind. With any luck, they might find something useful in their hunt for Valentine.
The throbbing pain in his arm and shoulder was gradually easing its grip, and the more relaxed Alec got, the sleepier he felt. It was a torture in itself to stay awake.
Clair, one of the medics on the current shift, called his name, pulling him from another bout of semi-slumber. "I've applied the runes, and now you should rest for a couple of hours. Preferably here until the venom is out."
She smiled and went toward his sister. Medics took no objections to their recommendations, as a rule.
He didn't care. He just wanted to pass out.
"What's to keep the same thing from happening in Vegas?" Clary brought a hand to her mouth again, worrying the index nail. "They're looking for me, right?"
"They're looking for the Cup. And for some reason, they think you either have it or know where it is because apparently, your mother does." Isabelle gently pulled Clary's hand from her mouth. Her nails didn't need any more bite marks. "The advantage of Vegas is that no one will think to look for you there. You have no affiliation to that town, right?"
Clary shook her head a no. Isabelle shifted her focus to Clair when the Medic pushed away from Alec's bed. Clair smiled reassuringly. "He'll be fine after a few hours of rest. He's had worse. You both have. What was he doing out there on his own, though?"
"An excellent question," a cold voice sounded from behind Isabelle. She didn't have to turn around to know her mother had just entered the infirmary, but Isabelle did, anyway. Anything else would have been disrespectful.
Maryse Lightwood was clad in all black, as usual, in a tight but long dress that made her look as intimidating as Isabelle knew she could be. Her long hair was pulled back in a bun and her current facial expression screamed disappointment and anger.
Both the Lightwood parents were strict and forthright, yet somehow, her husband was the lesser evil of the two, easier to talk to at times and less judging. At least to Clary's face.
"Why was Alec alone with the Fairchild girl?" she inquired as Isabelle met her gaze.
"It wasn't a mission. Just a quick trip to get some of Clary's belongings. I didn't think–"
"That's right – you didn't think," Maryse snapped, her voice like a crack of her daughter's whip.
Clary glanced down at the floor as she directed her ire at Isabelle. Clary's mother had never been that abrasive with her — not to the point of open belittling – and Clary couldn't remember her ever having even raised a hand to her.
Isabelle pressed her lips together, heat briefly creeping up the back of her neck and cheeks.
"You never do, Isabelle. That's the problem. There are Circle members looking for this girl, not to mention all the Downworlders eager to get their hands on the Mortal Cup," she sighed, looking exasperated, almost close to losing her usually flawless composure. "Just go. You and I will talk about this later."
She strode past Isabelle with a parting glance at Clary, moving towards Alec's bed. Clair followed her, silent and seemingly uncomfortable with having overheard the scolding. Isabelle knew how she felt.
Izzy forced her temper and humiliation into check, held her head high, and left the infirmary.
Fray flushed guiltily, raising her gaze again, watching as the brunette swept past her and out of the door, leaving her mother to tend to her brother.
Two weeks had given Clary a lot of insight into the Shadowhunters, and this particular relationship wasn't a surprise to her or anyone else, for that matter, but the whole affair was unpleasant. Clary wondered if there was anything she could say that Isabelle herself hadn't already. Would the woman even listen to reason?
She hadn't addressed Clary and Clary didn't suppose she cared to since what had happened had nothing to do with the Cup or Valentine. Nothing that Clary could answer for, anyway.
Clary stood rooted to the spot for another minute and then slipped out, deciding to give the woman some privacy with her son, heading in search of Isabelle to see if she was okay.
Through the thickening veil of slumber, Alec unmistakably sensed his mother's presence before her voice somewhere far away asked a question to Clair. The shift Medic responded, and their conversation was a short droning sound that wasn't strong enough to fully pull him back to awareness. He tried, nonetheless.
"It's not Isabelle's mistake, mother," he murmured, struggling to open his eyes but to no avail. He literally felt fading away and could no longer fight it, nor the runes that insisted on forcing him to recuperate.
"We shall discuss it later," she said in a distant voice. "Sleep."
He gladly obeyed.
Isabelle wanted to head straight for her room, to briefly sulk and later clean herself of the resentment she currently felt towards her mother. But it would have to wait. She still hadn't finished with the maps from earlier and that was important. Plus, she didn't want to give anyone another reason to think she was irresponsible or incapable of doing her job.
Returning to the machine she'd occupied earlier, Isabelle connected to Alec's phone as well as her own, downloading the special maps of Las Vegas and the database for demons and Downworlders known to roam that area. A handy tool to have on hand should they run into any of them.
"Isabelle." It was Raj who had spoken this time. "The team we sent to Jocelyn Fairchild's apartment didn't find anything of note. The Circle members must have already left. No trace of any demons left behind either."
That was disappointing. She nodded. "Continue to keep the surveillance on for that entire street. If they return, we want to know."
"Already taken care of," he replied, returning to his own station.
Isabelle wasn't in the hallway and her bedroom door was closed. Clary wasn't sure if she was in there, but also wasn't sure if Isabelle'd want her to interrupt. They weren't that close.
Clary heaved a small sigh, gave up her search and headed back to the greenhouse to retrieve her dumped bags. They were exactly as she'd thrown them. She picked them up, and the knife, eyeing her blood that had dried on the blade.
Unlike how alien it had felt the first time he thrust it into her hand, this time it felt denser, as if she had more control of it. She brought it to her palm, touched the blade to the dried blood on her palm now smudged and wondered if she'd be able to cut herself again.
She hadn't thought she could do it before, by no means a fan of pain, and yet – she had.
She blinked away the thought, twirled the blade in her grasp as she'd seen some of the training Shadowhunters do, and cursed when it slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
Damn.
Tricks like that always looked easier than they were.
She picked it up again, pulled on her bags and made herself walk to her assigned room.
With her task completed and no new ones currently on her agenda, Isabelle finally made her way back to her room where she unbuckled the holster from her thigh and left it and her weapons on her nightstand.
Ever since they were small children, Alec, Jace, and Isabelle had been taught to relinquish emotions that didn't do them any good, emotions such as anger, hatred, and jealousy. It was meant to keep them pure, as pure as their vessels could be, to allow more room for their connection with their angelic powers to grow.
Alec had always excelled at this. But Isabelle struggled. She was a good Shadowhunter – one of the best of her generation, and she knew it. But there were flaws. Flaws her mother in particular tended to point out because they occasionally threatened the Lightwood reputation. Isabelle could be too hotheaded, too rash and impulsive, and worst of all — too self-indulgent. All traits that would keep her from becoming a decent leader according to her parents. And maybe they were right.
Still, Isabelle struggled with the injustice of it all, of them expecting nothing less than perfection from her and her brothers when they themselves had made so many mistakes in the past. Most of them worse than what she had ever done.
And yet Isabelle knew it didn't matter. Not really. These feelings were not just unimportant, they were dangerous. Fighting angry was fighting poorly. And there was no room for those kinds of mistakes in the next few days.
So Isabelle sat down on her bed and crossed her legs, closed her eyes and focused on letting it all go.
Clary set her bags down on the edge of the bed. She was in the middle of unpacking her glitter bag when the door flew open and Jace entered.
"I heard what happened."
He strode across the room, barely looking at the clothing she'd been unpacking, and took a hold of her shoulders to face him, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. It was so intense that for a second it felt as if she were standing in front of him completely naked.
She freed herself of his grasp and gave a gentle laugh, a reaction that bordered awkward. "I'm fine."
"I can see that," he said after a lengthy silence. "Why'd you go back?"
"I—I wanted a change of clothes." Considering what had happened to Alec, admitting that made her feel like an idiot. She could tell he'd already heard that part of the story and maybe he was just testing her to see the reality of it. "Have you been to see Alec? Spoken to Isabelle?"
"First thing I did," he answered, frowning slightly. "What's up with Izzy?"
"Her mother wasn't too impressed with what happened and she said some really awful stuff."
She could see the implication dawn on Jace but Clary didn't see a stitch of sympathy on his face. "Izzy was wrong, she shouldn't have let you go alone." He made the retort in a matter-of-fact tone and with zero unkindness. He believed it. "Had I known, I'd have gone with you."
And now, there was a touch of something in his tone, disapproval, and if Clary was really conceited, she might think a little jealousy. "It wasn't necessary."
"Clearly it was," he retorted.
Clary sighed and turned her attention to her belongings, separating the clothing from her painting supplies, watching as he picked up her old sketchbook and began to flip through it.
She hadn't gotten a lot of things, so packing it away didn't take her very long. Jace, however, didn't seem to have any intention to move and stayed close, reviewing.
"You're starting to freak me out," she commented.
She meant it as a joke, although the intensity he appeared to be looking at her with today was extra notched, so much so that it was almost like his eyeballs had manifested hands.
She shivered, and not in an entirely unpleasant way.
She turned to face him, to see if what she'd said had affected him in any way. It hadn't. He was holding the knife now, index finger pointing out the smear of blood that stained the blade.
"I'm okay," she repeated.
"So you've said."
"I did it to myself."
Jace's brows hitched and his lips twitched with amusement.
"I didn't fall and stab myself or anything, if that's what you're thinking, Jerk," she retorted, flashing a smile as she walked over and seated herself on the edge of her mattress. "Alec told me to cut myself."
Clary quickly explained the thinking with the rune. Jace looked impressed and simultaneously proud. The most emotion she'd seen him express. "And you did it?"
"You sound surprised."
He shrugged noncommittally, a gesture that was entirely insulting in some respect.
Silence befell them. It wasn't uncomfortable – at least not for her.
"I'll give this back to Alec," he said
Before she could say okay, he'd already turned on his heels and exited the bedroom.
Isabelle did feel a little better when she resurfaced from her meditation, though in the wake of her anger and humiliation rose the question whether or not she truly was too reckless at times. With her own life, perhaps, but what Shadowhunter wasn't? With the lives of others? People she cared about? She hadn't thought so. And yet her actions today said different.
She returned to the infirmary a good while later, glad to find it empty of everyone except for her brother who was still asleep in his bed. She pulled a chair over to his side and sat down, resting her feet on his mattress, and simply waited, watching over him.
She leaned back in her chair, taking turns between watching the rise and fall of Alec's chest as he slept and closing her own eyes to rest every now and then. She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and soon found Jace enter the infirmary, effortlessly twirling a knife between his fingers as he came to a halt at the foot of Alec's bed.
"They shouldn't have gone alone," he said, eyeing her.
She shot him a dark look but didn't comment. He already knew she knew, anyway, so what was the point?
"Alec's knife," Jace continued, holding the weapon out to her. She took it and put it on the nightstand next to her brother before leaning back in her seat again.
On the opposite side, Jace pulled another chair close and sat down as well. This was more or less a tradition when anyone of the three of them got hurt.
When Alec felt the pull of reality, slow and tentative, there was almost no immediate pain left. It took a moment to recollect where he was and why. He was reluctant to wake up, but it was wrong to overstay at the infirmary. He hated it, so the thought spurred him; he stirred, drawing a deep breath as he stretched a little. His shoulder was a tad sore, but it would be fine by tomorrow.
Izzy and Jace rested in their chairs on either side of his bed. Both were silent, and it didn't feel right. Just the same as when Jace had come to Alec's room earlier.
"Why so gloomy? I'm not dead yet. Well, not until I face our Heads, that is."
"You can call them Mom and Dad," Isabelle teased, pulling her feet off his bed and sitting up once it became clear he was awake and relatively unharmed. "At least when they're not here."
Alec gave his sister an ironic look. "Those days of Idris are gone, Izzy. Now they're the Heads of the Institute any time and any place unless they mention otherwise."
She knew, of course, but she was also more reluctant to uphold the protocol when it came to their parents and their status. She could be a rebel when unhappy about their dutiful distance, and there was little anyone could do about it. Alec still tried.
"How are you feeling?" Jace asked, mirroring her actions and straightening in his seat.
"I'm fine, just a few scratches," Alec looked at Jace and shrugged. "I know all you've been thinking all this time, and it was wholly my fault. It was stupid to believe there would be no one scouting their place."
"You two could've died, Alec," Jace said, leaning forward, his eyes sharp. "Why was it so hard to call me with you?"
Alec rolled his eyes. "I thought Izzy was coming, and when she wasn't, I made a mistake of trusting that I was enough. Okay? I was wrong."
Jace scoffed, dropping back against his chair. "Izzy I would get, but you? The one who never strays from the protocols, Alec? And it suddenly slipped your mind to take back-up? I don't believe it."
Alec observed him, scowling. There it was again – as if it wasn't Jace, anymore. Like something was possessing him.
"I already told you – I was annoyed I had to go, so I decided to just do it quick. And I paid for it. I'm not even finished paying yet. So what else do you want me to say? That I wanted to be alone with that girl? To do what, exactly?"
Jace was glowering with his eyes narrowed. It was a phantasmagorical sight for Alec who grew up with him.
"You almost died," Jace repeated, rapping the words out. "She could've died and we'd never find the Cup. It was that close. And you…" He set his jaw momentarily, then got up. "Whatever. I gotta go see about a scouting mission."
Isabelle frowned at Jace and the intensity of his glare, perturbed by his sudden change in demeanor from the easy-going, carefree boy they knew. He must truly care for Clary if this was his reaction because they all knew his anger had nothing to do with the Cup. It had been a mere two weeks, though. Was it even possible to fall in love that quickly? Despite all her flings and encounters with the opposite sex, Isabelle had never been in love. Nor did she ever want to be. As for Jace, if this was truly love, Isabelle feared for him.
She watched him go, then turned to Alec again, smiling softly as she pushed a lock of his hair from his forehead. "You did good, big brother. You got her back safe and sound."
Alec watched him go – more like storm out – then turned to Izzy, confused. "What is wrong with him? Is he actually jealous? Of her?"
"Love makes you do the wacky," Isabelle murmured, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "I guess he's scared of losing her before he's even got her."
Alec's eyes narrowed as he stared at her, dumbfounded for a long moment, unable – and unwilling – to follow the meaning of what she was implying. "Love? What does love have to do with that 'get her' agenda?"
"Oh, Alec, come on!" she chided him for being slow. "He fancies her! It's so obvious."
Alec kept staring at her, frowning and expectant. Yes, he knew what fancying was: in Jace's understanding, it was hunting her down until she let him have the prize, after which he usually lost interest pretty quickly. "Define fancies."
By the Angels, her brother could be daft sometimes. Isabelle couldn't help but snort a laugh. "As in he likes her for more than her girl-parts he hopes to play with. As in, if they have sex, he'll still want to keep her around. Affection, Alec. He's totally crushing on her."
Alec winced in disbelief. "How can you be so sure? It's the same thing every time: he looks crushing and then he loses interest when the tower falls. There's nothing different about this one."
"Oh, please, you know he hasn't been himself since we met Clary. He constantly wants to be with her, he has this savage need to keep her safe, and he gets upset when other boys" she gestured to Alec, "get to take care of her instead of him. It makes him feel threatened. I would have thought you'd be able to feel some of that through your bond?"
"I feel that he's confused and antsy. Plus the known set of urges he usually rides when he 'fancies' someone new. She's just that - new. Damsel in distress he gets to play a knight with. He used to fall for warriors, and this is different and new. Like a new toy he doesn't want to let out of hands."
"If you say so," she smirked, still convinced of her own theory but hoping for Jace's sake Alec was right. "So what happened back at the apartment? Clary said there were demons. No Circle members?"
Alec sighed and checked his shoulder. "Two dogs and two Circle members. If not for that portal, I'd have taken care of them. But I couldn't risk the girl's life."
"I know. You did the right thing," she assured him, genuine in her praise. "Do you think they knew you were there, or was it random?"
"I don't believe in random. We watched the premises, and they weren't there. But as soon as we came by, they arrived straight to the apartment. With two demons." He gave her a pointed look. "They found a way to track her, Izzy. The only way I can think of is her blood. Her mother's blood."
Isabelle inhaled deeply, leaning forward in her chair, elbows on her knees. "That means they'll follow us to Vegas. We'll have to cloak her. Otherwise we'll spend the entire mission fighting The Circle rather than doing what we came there for."
"We can't cloak her for long, it's pretty much useless until she gets initiated as a Shadowhunter. Before she accepts her first rune, we can't hope to hide her or empower her enough to be fully protected. And she's not ready for initiation."
"So what do you suggest?" It was possible their father would reconsider his orders Clary come with, considering what had happened today, but somehow Isabelle doubted it.
Alec leaned his head back against the pillow, eyeballing the ceiling while he analyzed the situation. "They have her mother's blood and her father's blood - it's a pretty good way of tracking her, but not perfect, nonetheless.
"Her mother is unconscious due to that potion Jace found in their bathroom after her disappearance, as our expert stated. That means she can't help them in any other way. And Valentine doesn't know his daughter, he has no spiritual connection to her, which plays in our favor and makes their tracking imperfect.
"It's good when they know she's in New York. But if she's out - it would take time to find her. A little bit of time."
"Then I suggest we work quickly and get her back here as soon as possible," Isabelle said. "Preferably before they catch on." It was unlikely to play out that way, but it should still be the goal. "Did Dad mention what kind of demonic activity has spiked over there lately? Any clues as to what we're looking for?"
"Someone's ritually killing young women in the desert. And demons are running rampant all over the city, as if attracted by something. More than before. Like they know something we don't."
Clair approached them to check on Alec, putting their discussion on hold. She cleared him to leave, and Alec met Izzy outside.
Isabelle stepped outside into the hallway and waited for Alec there while Clair gave him a final examination, her mind on the ritualistic killings he'd mentioned. Young women, eh? Guess there was a high possibility of Izzy playing bait again then. Unless they sought virgins, in which case she would either have to drastically tone down her usual style and behavior or offer up Alec.
When her brother joined her and headed towards his room, she followed.
"It's just my guess about the blood tracking," he said, "but even if we can't initiate her now, we still can find ways to protect her. If we combine methods with witches, we might be able to hide her better."
"Well, we don't exactly have any witches or warlocks on payroll at the moment." Nor were they very fond of their kind. Though Isabelle suspected Shadowhunters was a lesser known breed out on the west coast, considering there were fewer permanent Nephilim bases there. Maybe they could recruit help once they got to Vegas?
"We're all on the same side," Alec reasoned. "Any witch will gladly help us prevent Valentine from getting The Cup.
"But we'll have to discuss it all with the Heads."
"Mom and Dad," she corrected, just because she knew it annoyed him. And them. "Yeah, well, we better suggest it sooner rather than later, seeing as we're leaving tomorrow."
"Right after I shower - again - and go to face justice."
He gave her a smile, opening his room's door, and went in, expecting her to follow. He didn't suppose she had anything better to do until they solidified their plans on the upcoming trip.
She followed him inside and closed the door behind her, immediately heading for his closet while he went to wash up. Seeing as they didn't know how long they'd be gone, they definitely needed to pack more than they usually did for their missions, and knowing her brother he'd only choose to bring his hunting gear. She wouldn't allow it. He needed at least one change of clothes that would allow them to blend in among civilized company – mundane or otherwise.
She pulled some black slacks, a nice button up shirt, and a black jacket from his wardrobe and laid them out on his bed before selecting a pair of shoes that would compliment the outfit nicely.
Alec took a quick shower, then dried off and looked in the mirror. The restoration runes got paler already - they would be gone by tomorrow. The bite marks were skinned over and brightly pink. That also would be healed by next day with no trace.
He pulled his pants back on and returned to the bedroom, drying his hair on the towel. A grimace crossed his face when he saw the selection laid out on his bed. "I'm not going to be your Barbie doll, Izzy. You never pick anything practical."
"It doesn't hurt to have options, Alec. Unless you want to risk having to go shopping, of course," Isabelle grinned, resurfacing from his closet with a pair of shoes. "We don't know what we'll need, what establishments we need to infiltrate, people we need to talk to… It won't kill you not to wear a black t-shirt for a few hours."
Alec rolled his eyes. "I infiltrate while invisible. I can wear what I find comfortable for it. Actually, it's vitally important She sighed. "You're impossible." But she still packed the clothes into his favored bag, along with the shoes. "Get dressed so we can get the parental-judgement over with."
"I'm going to them alone," he plucked a shirt from the drawer and pulled it on. "It was me and the Fairchild girl, so I'm answering for it on my own. And if they choose to call you in later - they will. But it's not your fault, however it's ruled. You need to know that."
"I'm the one who roped you into it," she said, turning her back to him while he changed, fiddling with the ruby pendant around her neck. "I'm not letting you face them alone." That was not how they did things. They were a team, always.
"You have to let me, because it's right. I had a choice and I made it. You had nothing to do with it."
He put his boots on and glanced over the clothes on his bed with a fleeting wince. He hated disorder, and Izzy liked a touch of chaos. It brought her excitement and made him restless, which also amused her.
"And deprive Mom of the chance to chastise me again? Don't think she'll appreciate it," Isabelle murmured, carefully slipping those shoes into his bag. "It doesn't matter. I'm used to it."
"I'm sure she'll get her chance, anyway, if it's necessary, but you don't have to come to take it when it's a bit uncalled for."
Clary flipped through her old sketches, a lot of stuff she'd only drawn last month when things appeared to be simpler. She still couldn't believe that all of this was happening – that this had happened – and that Alec had almost been hurt because of her.
She knew it was their job, their sacred duty, and yet the thought didn't make her feel any better about it.
She didn't want to put anyone in harm's way and didn't want to be the reason that they were.
Clary sighed softly, rolled over onto her side and slid the sketchpad beneath the mattress to join the other. If she was going to be of use in Vegas, then she was going to have to get as much training in as she could before they left, particularly with a weapon. She'd already tried a few but none had spoken to her and she wasn't exactly Lara Croft at picking it up.
She rolled her head on her shoulders, slid off the mattress and left the guest quarters to direct herself toward the exercise room.
Alec cringed at Isabelle's packing of his bag, knowing he would have to repack again later, but didn't object to her face.
After a knock on the door, Jace peeked in. "Alec, a word?"
Isabelle immediately turned away from him, clinging to her grudge like a lifeline until both boys had stepped out into the hallway.
Jace looked guilty. "I'm sorry about my outburst, it was… unprofessional and uncalled for. I… couldn't rule myself down when I thought of what could have happened to you. Both of you. She's important for us, and you… You're too important for me."
Alec chuckled softly, uncertain of how he felt about that partial truth. A part of him itched and ached to confront Jace about what he truly felt for the girl, to make him say it, but another part wasn't eager at all to hear him admit anything around the term Love. Alec had never seen Jace in love with anyone before, and if that was it, Alec wasn't happy for him as he was supposed to be. Jace wasn't himself, anymore, and Alec dreaded the possibility of Jace staying that way for good. Alec wasn't sure he could handle having a stranger for a parabatai.
"I know, it's all right," he said, making himself smile. Jace returned it and pulled him into a hug.
"The Heads expect you," Jace said, pulling back. "I guess I need to apologize to Izzy, too."
Smiling, Alec patted his shoulder and started for the Head Office, and Jace entered the room.
Isabelle had used her solitude wisely, pulling out the clothes she knew her brother looked damn good in. If he insisted on wearing comfort, she'd at least make sure they highlighted his muscular physique. It could only help them, really. Everyone knew mundanes responded better to pretty people.
When the door opened again, Jace entered, Alec didn't follow, so she assumed he was well on his way to receive a verbal spanking. Isabelle threw the last shirt onto his bed and made for the door as well, intending to cut him off before he could reach the office so they could enter together. But Jace's hand shot out and wrapped around her upper arm, stopping her.
"Izzy, I'm sorry about earlier," he said, trying to meet her gaze, which she purposely averted just to give him a hard time. "I was just worried about Alec."
She snorted.
"And Clary," he admitted somewhat reluctantly. "Izzy, please, I'm sorry."
She hesitated another few seconds before finally looking at him, her earlier anger already gone, but her need to tease and needle him would never falter. "Next time you shout at me for no reason at all, I'm gonna kick your ass."
Jace grinned, knowing all was forgiven.