Chapter 5 – Kinds of Chains

He did not care.

Alexander did not really care about what weird powers his parabatai had, be they inherent or achieved through the fights they had fought during their life time. He just knew that when Jace had a feeling about something it usually brought them to the center of whatever problem was currently arising, and mostly it lead them right into even more trouble than he usually could imagine. Magnus had laughed when he had told him, had shrugged and had kissed him, and Alec had long resigned himself to the fact that Jace just had to be the center of attention no matter what. But when he saw smoke rising from the barred windows of the old hotel he knew once again his best friend's instincts had brought them right to the place they wanted to be.

The hotel wasn't as much as fire as it seemed to be lit from within. Red and silver, the light reminded Alec of something painfully familiar. Jace was already scrambling over the ratty construction fence that kept unwanted trespassers but not frantic Shadowhunters on the right side of the street. He headed directly for the barred windows. Cursing, Alec followed on his heels, his danger senses prickling precariously. Jace had not even reached the windows when a dark shadow tackled him from the side. The scent of werewolves permeated the air, a growl, Jace was wrestling a Downworlder on the ground and Alec saw no entrance to help him. The wolf scent mixed with garbage and rot.

"I got it, Alec!" His parabatai hissed. "Check the windows!"

With one last glance backwards, Alec turned on his heels and ran towards the windows. The wood that barred them was old and stone-hard, he clenched his teeth and pulled with all his might and with a satisfying, thundering noise a piece came off. The crack he had caused barely was enough to see anything, it was halfway covered with dusty, cracked glass but a last gap left him with the view of an old, unused room that might have been used for evening galas or such events once. The light definitely came from inside the room. Red and silver flames were dying down to crackling embers and shadows were rising up threateningly. People rose from them, like shadows themselves, with the grace and agility only few had... Nephilim, Alec thought with a sigh of relief. And then he caught sight of a Hunter who was holding Cassidy up by his throat, his other hand ready to strike. A flame lit the blade, a blinding flash of steel in a dark world.

Traitors.

He whirled around again, every muscle poised. Behind him, Jace had finished with the werewolf. A wave of darkness, soundless as shadows, approached behind him. Jace did not pay attention, for once, and Alec knew why: the incidents inside the hall were more important to him right now. It shouldn't, really - figures were emerging from the mist of the demon stench. Wolves, yes, and demons. And more.

"Are they in there?" Jace yelled. For a second Alec seriously contemplated not telling him right away. They had enough on their minds – a demon came at him, his fangs bared and dripping with venom and Alec was otherwise occupied. It took him a few seconds to get rid of it while Jace disbanded another werewolf and a vampire. Why the hell are they working together.

"Alexander!" Jace's tone was urgent, his voice a plea. Alec risked another look into the room and froze.

On any other day he would have said what he saw was impossible. But there she was, Teresa, her jacket torn and bloody, she looked as if she had been tortured for weeks. As if to match the image her cheeks were hollow and sunken, her eyes dark pools in her face, and her hair danced around her like it had a life of its own. She came right out of a circle of fire, the source of the weird light, but she did not walk out of it. She seemed to float instead, rising higher and higher, until she reached a maximum height and started to descend. As she did so her speed grew, she hit the ground with a sound Alec could still hear outside. He almost could feel the ground shaking. She landed in a crouch and straightened again in one fluid motion, her hair still moving like in the gusts of an invisible wind. But the most terrifying things were her eyes: there was nothing in them but emptiness. Alec shuddered. Teresa lifted her hand and the Nephilim holding Cassidy was blasted away, he crashed into the wall a few meters behind her and crumpled to the ground silently. Cassidy staggered back, clawing at his throat. Teresa did not waste a moment; she turned towards the other attackers and Alec watched in awe as she started decimating them. He had always known she was a brilliant fighter, just like Jace was, but this was more than anyone would ever have imagined. He didn't think it was human anymore.

"Alec, I'm going in!"

Behind him, Jace had taken care of the last vampire, a demon was fleeing but neither one of them cared to stop it. With a nod Alec took off, Jace hard on his heels. Somehow he didn't doubt Rese wouldn't be able to hold her ground against the small army of Night things and Shadowhunters attacking her. The most terrifying thing, he thought, had been the wings. Crystal-clear, life-sized wings that grew from her back, each feather outlined and shining in the reflected light of the last silvery flames that were dying down. Somehow he wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened. But he really, really wanted to make sure his little sister was safe.

Alec never made a difference between Izzy, Jace, Rese, Max and Clary. Even Cassidy, one way or another, belonged to his family. Perhaps it was because he always had watched her from far but Teresa always had his attention. She seemed so different, so breakable. He knew nobody thought of her like that, and yet. No matter what had happened to her she would always be like a little sister to him, just like Izzy. Magnus had told him once his strength was the fact that he did not doubt – and Alec had gone and proven him wrong. It had taken a lot to fix their relationship but he had done it, somehow. But when it came to family there was not a trace of doubt in Alexander Lightwood. He made no difference between his blood siblings and his adopted siblings. Even Clary had quickly become a part of him. Someone who hurt one of them, no matter who it was, would pay. And right now there was no good or evil, no right or wrong. Rright now Alexander only saw Rese's bloody and burned arms and hands and Cassidy, who was grasping around the room blindly, and he attacked.

…

It was an almost tangible feeling.

Cassidy concentrated on every last ounce of energy he had and pushed it into the link that had opened between him and Teresa. As it was, he was useless in the fight: he didn't even see his own fingers clearly. Never before had he cursed his eyes as much as today. So he reached deep into himself into the well of power he knew was there, drew from it and prayed it would be enough to keep Rese going.

They just had to survive. She could kill him later.

…

Jace stopped dead at the door of the hall and felt Alec slam into him. His parabatai was far heavier than Jace was so he stumbled forward a few steps and rightened himself again, still shell-shocked. The hall was a mess. There were bodies strewn everywhere. Two burnt and charred circles in the old wooden parquet floor indicated there had been a rune circle there at some time, though he couldn't say what kind of circle. The scent of burnt flesh hung in the air heavily and thick and made him gag. And in the midst of it all Teresa was fighting three Nephilim at the same time, her hair in complete disarray, her clothes torn and discolored by something that could only be blood, and she held not a single weapon. Jace's mind took all in and turned blank.

Later, he dimly remembered throwing himself into the fight, as it was, Alec, Rese and he were barely enough to keep the seasoned Nephilim at bay. He did not know how long it took but at one point there was a loud noise and doors and windows shattered, cool night air created a storm of ashes and dust and more Shadowhunters entered the fight. Until the end of his life Jace would not care how they had known where they were.

Jace dimly remembered Maryse take on the apparent leader of the traitors with eyes that were terrifyingly cold.

Jace dimly remembered Clary and Izzy back to back, fighting and dispelling dozens of demons.

Jace dimly remembered Robert asking, Court-martial or hand them over to the Conclave? And Maryse answering, curtly, Restrain them. The familiar green light of a Malachi configuration flashed. Jace thought he saw Cassidy flinch.

Jade dimly remembered Alec shouting a name and storming forward, and then everything snapped back into focus:

Teresa fell, almost elegantly, a bird shot in mid-flight. Her fall seemed to last for hours, or so it felt. Alec caught her before she hit the floor and carefully placed her down, keeping her head rested on his arms. Jace thought he saw wings behind his sister but he did not care, not at all. All he could think was that she had to be alive, he needed her to be alive, he didn't care what it cost-

"Shhh, Jace, calm down. Jace, calm down. Jace."

Alec was saying his name, over and over again, Jace found himself on his knees next to Rese, frantically feeling for a pulse.

"Jace."

Now, Alec's voice was sharp. Jace looked at his best friend blindly and he snapped into focus, his forehead was creased in worry. "You won't help her that way. Take a breath and let me have a look."

Casting around for something useful to do, Jace groped for his stele. "She needs an Iraze-"

"She needs nothing until we haven't determined what is wrong with her," Alec interrupted him firmly. "Now move aside."

Carefully, he placed her onto the ground and started checking her vitals. Jace watched, his eyes wide in terror, only barely registering that Robert was supporting Cassidy, who seemed barely able to stand. He helped him to sit down next to Rese and checked his pulse, as well.

Something touched Jace's arm and he jumped. Wide-eyed, he stared down at Cassidy. The Shadowhunter's eyes were unfocussed, looking right through him.

"Jace?"

"Yeah." Jace barely managed a hoarse whisper. Cassidy did not sound better.

"Is she okay?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Anger surged through him, hot and searing. "What happened here, in the name of the Angel, why didn't you protect her?"

"Jace."

Clary's hand, warm and familiar, and all the heat of battle was sucked out of him at once and left him weak and trembling. He turned and buried his face in her hair, not caring who watched.

"She can't die," he whispered. "She just can't."

"It's okay," Clary said, her hand caressing his arms, running up and down gently. Her voice was soothing. "Let Alec and Maryse take care of her."

Maryse, who had come over as well was now kneeling next to her son. Side by side, their dark hair mingled in a way that made it impossible to say where one of then started and one ended. They were checking Teresa for other injuries, carefully running a sensor over her, feeling for broken bones, cleaning a stab wound in her side. It seemed to take hours until she sighed and looked up. Everybody seemed to hold his breath.

"She has a few internal injuries, cracked ribs and such, nothing a bit of sleep and an Iraze cannot take care of. What worries me…" Maryse bit her lip, a sign of insecurity she seldom allowed herself and which made her and Isabelle look even more alike. "She's showing signs of complete dehydration and severe tissue damage in certain places. And she is completely drained."

"Malachi configuration," Cassidy rasped. Everyone turned to him, frowning. "They tortured her in one," he explained.

Jace felt as if every bit of breath had been sucked out of him. He clenched his fists. "Those sick…"

Clary's hands restrained him before he could dash towards the imprisoned Nephilim. She was so strong, when had she become so strong? She'd been a weak mundane when he first had met her, unable to even free herself from the glamor her mother had placed on her. Now she matched him in her power, perhaps not in strength yet but in surely determination. It gave her the strength to hold him back and to look at him with such a deep understanding in her eyes and he wanted to scream. Jace fought for a second and then other hands joined Clary's, held him and forced him to the ground. He slumped to the floor rather ungracefully, unable to do anything for a second and then blindly grasping for Rese's hand. How long had it been that he had held it like that? He couldn't even remember.

"We'll take you home," he heard Maryse say, her voice a gentle whisper, and then she lifted up Teresa with almost no effort at all. Robert and Alec supported Cassidy and Jace was left on the floor, Clary's hand still stroking his hair. With a heaving of his chest he turned to her and again buried his face in the crook of her neck. His heart raced but he did not cry.

Izzy and Clary brought him home. It was the next part of the night he barely remembered.

…

When Teresa woke up, the sickbay of the Institute was dark and silent.

She recognized it almost instantly: familiar beds, familiar curtains, even the scent was familiar. Home. She had long ago stopped wondering how she could have fallen for this place when she had always known homes were places that could be taken from you all too easily.

Jace was asleep in the armchair at the side of her bed. The warmth that shot through her was expected and welcome. He looked tired, even in his sleep, his fists clutched and his forehead set in a frown. This was her brother, who couldn't even stop worrying about her when asleep. Did Clary seem him like that sometimes, she wondered. Many things had changed since they had come to the Institute but one thing would never change: looking at him, she felt at peace, calm and safe. If there was anything in this world she trusted in it was the knowledge that he would be there for her as long as he was alive. He had given a part of himself to Clary – it did not matter. Rese's claim was older. But it was soft, too, and allowing. She would love them both, with every breath she took. Jace's golden hair was in disarray, his face haggard, as it was he seemed to look worse than she felt. She lifted her hand to push away a strand of hair and almost cried out when pain shot through her, hot and burning. On the other side of the room, something moved.

Teresa whirled around – or tried to – and found herself face to face with Cassidy.

They were only separated by the gap between the two beds in the room. The curtain was drawn. In the dim darkness of the room there still was enough light for her Shadowhunter eyes, she could see every curve, every shadow of his face. He was wearing unfamiliar glasses, his spare set, she guessed. Runes stood out vividly against his pale skin, shone from underneath his grey T-Shirt. The green of his eyes bore into hers and she felt her heart pick up speed painfully.

"Did I wake you?" She whispered.

Cassidy shook his head, then shrugged, then nodded apologetic. "Well, somehow, yes, I suppose."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

He made an uncertain gesture, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Can't you feel it?"

Frowning, Teresa focused on herself. She felt better than she had thought, the pain from the sudden movement before abating. She guessed she would be okay if she took care for the next few days. She had a dim recollection of Maryse and Robert fighting Theo, of Alec shooting demons from the gallery that surrounded the room, of Clary and Isabelle having her back. Jace's voice, calling out for her frantically, hands and lights and sounds. An overwhelming fire, her entire self driven by one thought only- But the fact that she was back at the Institute meant everything was fine, or, at least, would be. Because he was there, to... But the sudden intensity in Cass's gaze scared her. Hesitantly, she reached out with her senses -

- And jerked back violently.

Somehow she had reached out with her hand, as well, she pulled it back and wrapped her other hand around it, cradling it to her body as if she had burned it. Wide-eyed and terrified she stared at Cassidy and he held her gaze even though shame and guilt were slowly seeping into his emotions. It was a wild cocktail: confusion and stubbornness and necessity all mixed, but shame was the foremost thing. And she felt more. She felt a faint sense of him that had nothing to do with her own gift, something akin to a draw that led her to him no matter what direction she ran. It was like a red thread, linking them to each other, originating somewhere deep within her. The shame she felt from Cassidy she detected with her gift but the soft pulsating of life came via this new connection. It was a closeness she had never thought of, never even expected she would feel at one point in her life.

I did not want this.

Terrified, she used her mind to tear at the thread and felt both Cassidy and herself jerk back at the pain that shot through them, through their combined selves. It threw both of them back and left them shaking and breathing hard.

"Outch," Cassidy whispered and rubbed his chest. They both knew it wasn't the source of the pain but it seemed appropriate to her, too. Pressing both her hands against her own chest, she felt her shivers intensify.

"What," she whispered, "In the name of everything that is holy, have you done?"

Defensiveness mixed into his emotions, an unbearable hint of pride that he had found a solution to their dilemma and had saved them, it was quenched immediately by the calm control she knew so well. Stubborn belief that he had done the right thing, that he did not regret anything. In a way, he was right, and it made it even worse. Their connection splintered into a million needles that seemed to bury themselves into her heart. Teresa was unable to hold his gaze so she jerked her eyes away and stared at the wall on the other side of the room without seeing anything. The thread, though, still gave her a sense of his presence. It terrified her that she suddenly knew he was there, even without using her empathy, that she could pick up on traces of how he felt and where he was. It was a whole new experience. If she'd ever thought empathy was the closest thing to sharing something - she was proven wrong now. This went deeper, further than anything she ever had imagined, and combined with her gift she felt as if he knew her, as if Cassidy knew her better than herself. It scared her so much her entire body froze. And with a terrible sense of foreboding she knew that she would forever miss the feeling, the knowledge that he was close and he was okay, if she lost it now.

It made her hate him even more.