Jace pressed his face to the door, looking into Clary's room through the crack in the wood. It was dark inside, but he could just make out her shape against the window, her red hair flowing in the winter breeze. Something deep inside him felt wrong, like someone had thrust their fist into his stomach and was twisting his insides with all their might. He knew what it was, of course. Jace- the old Jace, trying to tell him something. The angel boy trying to fight past the demon again, like that time in Paris when he'd been able to explain everything to Clary… He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts that told him this was the right thing.
He pushed the door open, sliding his body through the gap and into the room. It was still plain, the bed a tangle of sheets and a few items of clothing on the floor, but was still just another room in the institute. The only hint of a personal touch was found on the bedside table, where a photograph of Clary and himself sat perched precariously atop her sketchbook and box of pencils.
"Clary?" Jace ran his fingers shyly through his hair, pushing it back off his face. The moonlight bounced off his cheekbones as he stepped into the light, coming up behind her and placing his hand gently on her shoulder. She turned to face him, her fiery curls falling gracefully down her back and swaying back and to with her movements.
"Jace." Her voice was a murmur, almost a moan. The whisper was gentle yet desperate, begging for his attention. He leaned forward to press his lips against hers, to answer her call for affection with an action he so really wanted. His eyes flickered to take in every detail of her face- her heart-shaped lips and the line of freckles across her nose, and her eyes…
He screamed, bolting upright. He was back in his own room in the institute, scrupulously tidy with lines of weapons and trinkets shelved along the wall. A stack of books sat on his bedside table, itching to be read. Swinging his feet out from under his heavy winter quilt, he padded across his room and to the bathroom, leaning for a moment against the wall to regain his composure.
Looking in the mirror, he shook out his hair and splashed icy cold water into his face, rubbing his skin raw with a white towel as he tried to wake himself up. His nose and cheeks were burning with the beginning of a cold, and huge black circles rounded his eyes. He closed them, and turned away from his reflection, stepping back into his bedroom and flicking the light switch, bathing the room in darkness.
It was just a dream. This was what he told himself as he collapsed back onto the bed, picking up the top book on the pile and turning his lamp on at the wall. Just a dream.
The door to his room creaked open and he looked up from the pages of The Shadowhunter Codex, seeing her standing in his doorway. Clary- with her twisting curls of ginger hair and her pale, freckled skin. She stepped into his room and the light from his lamp bathed her, illuminating her entire body. His gaze travelled upwards tentatively, afraid. It rested on her face- her lips and her nose, her cheeks and her eyes- her eyes.
For one second they were normal, their usual bright emerald green. However even as Jace watched, she transformed into the Clary of his dreams. Her eyes flashed black and he saw himself reflected in their endless pits, alone in the blackness. His eyes rolled backwards and he fell down onto the bed, the book falling open on the floor.
"Magnus! Magnus let me in!" Alec pounded at the door to the apartment, desperately patting his pockets in case he still had his key. "Please!" He screamed, his voice now hoarse. "It's important."
Magnus sat on the white leather sofa with his arms resting on his knees, his hands linked between his legs. His feet sat at right angles, and his usually spikey hair was dull and flat. He lacked his usual spark, and his tanned skin didn't glimmer as it usually did, as he listened to his ex-boyfriend slam his fists desperately into the wood. A familiar scratching sound filled his ears as Alec tried to open the door with his stele, but Magnus knew it would do no good. Finally, bearing the agony in the boy's voice any longer, he rose to his feet and strode across the room, kicking an empty takeaway box into the bathroom as he went.
"What do you want, Nephilim?" He spat, before fully taking in the boy's appearance. He was pale, his clothes spattered with blood- his own or someone else's, Magnus couldn't tell. "Alec?" He whispered, putting his hand out to hold the shoulder of the swaying boy. His teeth were coated with blood, his eyes drifting slowly shut.
"Camille… she's dead. Maureen… bit… I bit…" He collapsed, falling limply into Magnus' arms. The warlock sighed inwardly and lifted him up, kicking the door shut with his foot as he carried Alec across his apartment.
"Alec? Honey? Come on… Tell me what happened." He stroked the boy's black hair as he lay sprawled on the double bed they had once shared. Alec's eyes were shut, his eyelids jittering feverishly. His mouth was open, a trickle of bloody drool tracing a path across his cheek and onto the sheets. "Please?" Magnus closed his eyes against the pain. Camille… surely the boy could not be correct. Who would dare? He stretched out his hand and took hold of Alec's fingers with his own, rubbing them gently with a damp cloth to remove the blood. "I don't know what kind of mess you've got yourself into this time, and I'm not sure if I can get you out of it… If I can bring myself to help you, after all you've done…" He shook his head, gnawing on his bottom lip as he rubbed the cloth across Alec's face. "Dumb mortals."
Clary stepped through the black painted door and into a dingy room on the other side, dimly lit by an uncovered lightbulb swinging from the low ceiling. As she stood, a piercing noise filled her ears, causing her to press her hands over them and sink down to the floor again. Muffled voices shouted from upstairs and footsteps began to patter down towards her- a gang of hulking men with red runes scrawled across their skin, their faces twisted with grim malice. They stood aside as Sebastian swaggered down the steps right to the bottom, and stood in the tiny square hallway.
"Intruder alert, sir."
"Well it's playing up, obviously. There's nobody here." His voice echoed with pretentious loathing and an imitation English accent as he turned on his heel and waved the men back upstairs, clapping his hands with impatience. "Come, we have business to discuss." He cast a furtive glance back at the empty hallway and climbed the steep staircase once more. Clary stumbled to her feet and tripped up the wooden hill after him, gripping each stair so that she was half running, half crawling.
They emerged in a large room, with another dim light bulb hanging from the beamed ceiling. It was covered in spindly cobwebs hung with equally spindly spiders, bounding up and down on their silvery strings of web above a long, creaky table. The men had assembled themselves around the table, leaving a space for Sebastian at the head. The red runes on their skin glowed in the light, telling tales of misfortune and grief, of anger and revenge.
"Now, gentlemen. Where were we, before we were so rudely interrupted? Yes… of course. I'm being followed. I know, I could deal with the rat myself but there just hasn't been the time- I've been up and down the globe getting members of your league to join me in my quest for revenge. I know you'll be just as eager as the others but… so I know I can trust you- take care of the rat. I'm fairly sure he'll be waiting outside, so I'll tell you the deal. You help me, and I'll get you the one thing your heart most desires. With your help, I can take over the world. I can rule the Nephilim- using demons for blackmail. I've got a way to make you impervious to this curse- the demons won't touch you, will follow your every command… and those Nephilim who go against me, who refuse to drink from the cup… shall be slain. Simple stuff."
To Clary's disappointment, none of the men seemed dismayed by this prospect. Nay, they looked eager at the thought of the mass extermination of the demon-fighting force. They all seemed to nod in unison, and as Sebastian handed out a scroll of paper and a knife with which the men were required to cut themselves to seal the deal, Clary found herself backing from the room in horror. She tumbled down the stairs and out of the door, taking hold of Simon's hand and feeling the cool metal of the faerie ring against her.
Simon?
Clary?
We have to go- now. There's this… this league, and they're joining Sebastian. They're some sort of shadowhunter outcasts… they want revenge on the Nephilim and they're willing to go to any lengths to get it- and Sebastian's only term is that they kill you. Soon.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs inside the building and Clary jumped, her eyes widening in panic.
Run.
