Chapter 3
Clary let out a scream of disgust, her piercing shrill echoing around the enclosed space. The angel's face was scrunched up in agony, as if struck by an everlasting scream. Deep black blood poured from profound wounds created on the surface of his arms and legs, where the ropes had burned into his pale skin. Upon his skin she also spotted puncture wounds, though whoever had made the gashes had made no effort to fix them. The angel wore a filthy white tunic, torn in places where he had tried to rebel. His blonde hair was streaked with shadows of blood, both dried and fresh. Clary willed her eyes to look away, but they were hooked like a fish on a line. She began to walk forward, slowly, meaningfully, her eyes never once leaving the tortured black eyes of the broken angel, but she felt a shaking, frosty hand upon her arm. She turned to face her captor. Jace shook his head. She could see the worry and fear evident in his golden eyes, the questions written all over his full lips. She trusted him. She took a step backwards. Clary's eyes drifted around the rest of the room, taking in her surroundings. On top of the marble counters lay hundreds of thousands of chemical bottles, each glinting a different colour, blue, green, red. She also saw horrific equipment; sharp points, needle like objects and vials filled with black gloop contacted her eyes as they grew adjusted to the darkness. She could only imagine the pain these objects were capable of. Valentine had been a tough father but he had never got as far as using torturous articles to keep his kids in check. There was also clear evidence of experimentation going on here. But what was her father doing experimenting on Angels?
She turned to look at Jace, a look of distress playing over her features. "Why is he here?" Clary managed to spit out, her voice trembling with an emotion way past fear. From the look on Jace's face, he had no idea, a theory that was backed up with a slow shake of the head. "Ithuriel, Ithuriel can you hear me?" Jace exclaimed, his face a mixture of various emotions. But Ithuriel seemed lost in a different world, unable to hear the confused tones of Jace. Whilst Jace tried to get a response from the tortured angel, Clary began to wander around the sinister room. The feel of the place sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes fell upon the vials of black paste, curious; she pulled one closer to her. Her mind searched for answers. What was it? She craved to know. She stared at it, but no answers jumped into her mind. Clary's olive eyes drifted past the black gloop, finding a new object to explore. Next to the black slime was a book. The book was a deep, smoky brown, bound with leather, the front crackled and torn with the sheer number of its days. Clearly, it was an old book. Clary carefully opened it; her curiosity outweighing her fear. The first page was coated in a complicated scrawl of black ink. She attempted to decode the words.
"Day 1" It read. "Today I administered demon blood into myself. The blood seemed to improve upon my powers, making me feel stronger and more secure. I am also now faster and more skilled." There was more written, but Clary couldn't quite make it out; it would seem that some sort of ink had been spilt onto the page. She could only make out the odd word like "temporary" and "further experimentation". Clary was still lost in the business of decoding, when she heard footsteps behind her. Her and Jace's heads whipped round as if pulled by a giant invisible string and, after sharing a quick look of desperation, they bolted, leaving Clary no time to read the rest of the diary.
They ran and ran until they could run no more. Through endless gardens they sprinted, grass wrapping around their ankles, branches tearing at their faces. Once their hearts had been strained to the point of pure exhaustion, Clary collapsed upon a patch of dew-filled grass in between some tall, elegant flowers. Jace copied her, his body relaxing as he fell. All of Clary's emotions bubbled up inside of her until they could be contained no more. She began to sob; heavy, fat tears rolling down her face. She was confused, scared, angry and just about every emotion under the sun; all at the same time. She threw her head into her hands in distress, tucking her grass-stained knees up to her chin. "Hey" Jace said softly. "Hey, don't cry, we'll sort this out somehow, I promise." Clary began to sob harder, the tears spiralling out of control. Jace shuffled closer to Clary, enclosing her in his arms. Clary buried her head in his shoulder, allowing the steady beat of his heart to calm her down. They sat like that for a while, sharing each other's emotions until finally Clary's tears dried up. Removing herself from Jace's firm shoulders, Clary turned so that her face was level with his. Jace, who was always her rock in these situations, surely he'd know what to do? In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked him "What are we going to do now?" her mouth choking and catching on her words .To which Jace replied "I think we need to talk to mum."