7

With Friends Like These

Simon heard a clamor behind him and felt as Jace pushed him to the side, the normally-sarcastic and close-hearted boy falling to his knees beside Maia and Clary.

"Clary," Jace said, as if she were an angel; his long lost angel that had been returned to him. His eyes shot up to Maia. "What happened?" he demanded.

"She was there when I opened the door," Maia breathed, the shock still apparent on her face. "I don't know how she got here. I just opened the door and saw her and she looked like was going to pass out so I reached out to help her steady and she just collapsed."

Jordan crouched down beside Maia, holding her shoulders. "It's not your fault. It's okay. Maia, look at me. Focus." But Maia's eyes had glazed over and Jordan pulled her gently away from Clary while Jace pulled the latter off the ground and into his lap.

"Clary? Can you hear me?" Jace's face was full of concern as cupped Clary's face in his hands.

Clary didn't respond—she was out cold.

"Jace," Alec began, having finally, along with Magnus, caught up and appeared in the Institute doorway. "Jace, is she okay?"

"She's not waking up," Jace replied, his eyes wide, "and she's barely breathing."

"Put an iratze on her," Isabelle suggested, slightly breathless, as she too joined the group of people in the foyer.

Jace reached into his pocket, careful not to jostle Clary too much, and pulled out his stele, drawing the healing rune on her upper arm. As soon as the mark had been drawn, it began to fade, only healing a couple of the smaller cuts and bruises on Clary's pale skin.

"Why isn't it working?" Simon asked anxiously.

"I don't know," Jace put his fingers on Clary's throat, and Simon, after watching his mother take care of his father for so long, recognized that he was taking her pulse. Jace removed his hand and sighed. "She must have demon blood in her system or something. The rune isn't working. It doesn't make sense, though. Her pulse is strong. So why won't she just wake up?"

"Jace," Magnus piped in, "get her to the infirmary. I'll take care of the rest."

Jace didn't move at first.

"Jace," Alec said, kneeling down and putting a hand on his parabatai's shoulder. "Jace, he can help her. Come on. She's going to be alright, but we have to get her inside now."

Jace met Alec's eyes and nodded slowly, sliding an arm under Clary's knees, his other arm reaching around her back, and standing up carefully, lifting Clary's limp body along with him.

"You should relax a little," Alec told Jace, who was busy wearing through the soles of his shoes pacing back and forth outside the infirmary. Inside, Maryse and Magnus were hovering over Clary, trying to give her everything she needed to regain consciousness again. After Jace had brought Clary up to the infirmary and laid her down in one of the cold iron bunks, they had waved him away, and he and Alec had been sitting in the hallway outside ever since. That had been nearly half an hour ago.

"Relax? The Angel only knows what Sebastian did to her, Alec. You saw how bad a shape she was in when she got here. The iratze only fixed so much. She's still not awake."

"But she will be," Alec countered reassuringly. "She's in good hands."

Jace sighed and sat next to Alec on the small, hard wooden bench opposite the infirmary door. Though this put an end to his pacing, he was still on edge, tapping his fingertips anxiously on his kneecap. "I guess this is good news for you two, right?" he said, trying to keep the conversation light, but hearing his own anxiety in his voice as he spoke.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Magnus is kind of off the hook. He doesn't have to go to a demon dimension to talk to his father now. He isn't walking into a highly likely death tomorrow. Now that Clary's back, he doesn't have to worry about it."

"I guess so," Alec replied evasively.

"But it still bothers you, doesn't it?" Jace questioned apprehensively.

"I don't know what you mean." Alec stood up, blatantly avoiding Jace's eye contact.

"It bothers you that he was willing to die. Because, in your mind, it meant that he had nothing to live for, not even you."

"Jace, I didn't ask for a psychological evaluation," Alec worked in irritably, but Jace continued without hearing him.

"You're wrong, Alec. It's not that simple. He wasn't going to risk his life because you aren't worth living for. He was doing it because you were worth dying for."

Now Alec looked apprehensively down at Jace. "How can you be sure?"

Jace stood back up, closing the distance between him and his brother until they were only a few inches apart. "Because I felt the same thing when I thought I might lose Clary. When you love someone, that love is the reason you keep going, keep fighting. That person is the reason you want to keep living, the reason you bother to get out of bed in the morning. But when you're faced with the idea of losing that person, it becomes something even deeper, something darker. Your love is the reason you want to keep living. So, when the idea comes into play that they might not be living much longer, a new instinct kicks in. Without them, you don't have a reason to keep living, and so you're willing to do anything to save them, even die. Because, without them, you're as good as dead anyway."

Jace and Alec stood in the same position for a few seconds before the door to the infirmary opened and Maryse stepped out. "Oh, am I interrupting something?"

"Nothing," Alec said quickly, backing away from Jace.

"How is she?" Jace asked.

"She's awake. And she's asking for you."

Clary sat up in the white sheets of the infirmary bed, still wearing the blood-spattered clothes she'd worn when they'd found her. Jace sat by her side, holding her hand. Around them sat a motley crew of people. Maryse sat next to Isabelle on a bed opposite Clary's while Alec and Magnus stood next to each other leaning against the wall behind the chair in which Jace sat. Simon, Maia, and Jordan sat on the bed directly next to Clary's, on the opposite side from Jace, Alec, and Magnus.

"Look at that," Clary said weakly, her eyes still drooping as if she wasn't fully awake. "The gang's all here. Even. . . Simon? But how—?"

Simon laughed. "Long story. I'll tell you when you get back on your feet, Fray."

"Who would have thought that we'd all survive to be sitting here together?" Isabelle said, reminiscing.

"Hey, some of us haven't survived," Jace replied with a dark sense of humor. "I would like to point out that I have been dead before, thank you very much."

Soft laughs and chuckles carried through the room. "Oh, I guess you've started without us," said a deep voice, and everyone looked up to see Luke and Jocelyn standing together in the doorway.

"Clary," Jocelyn breathed, and ran to her daughter, Luke following slowly behind her. Jocelyn sat on the bed next to Clary, pulling her into a tight hug, and Clary winced in pain, embracing Jocelyn awkwardly.

Luke put a hand on Jocelyn's shoulder. "Easy, Jocelyn. I'm sure Clary's still a little sore."

Jocelyn pulled back and gave an apologetic glance at her daughter. "Sorry. I just. . . I thought. . .." Tears started rolling down Jocelyn's face. Clary reached out and put a hand on her mother's arm.

"I'm okay, Mom," she said, catching her mother's gaze. "I'm going to be fine."

Jocelyn nodded, smiling, and moved to sit at the foot of the bed while Luke stood next to her.

"When did you get here, Lucian?" asked Maryse, her lips pursed in disapproval. "I don't remember extending an invitation."

"Funny, because I don't remember accepting one either," Luke replied dryly. Before Maryse could protest, he continued. "Wherever Jocelyn goes, I go. Or have you forgotten that we're supposed to be married soon?"

"Will you two shut up?" Isabelle said exasperatedly, turning to her mother. "Honestly, you're worse than Alec and Magnus. Why do you two hate each other so much? You're always at each other's throats about something. Do you think you can give it a rest after sixteen years? It's supposed to be a happy day. Clary's back, and we can all breathe a little easier. So just shut up or leave."

Luke and Maryse fell silent, and Jace nodded gratefully at Isabelle before turning back to the girl in the bed. "Clary," he started cautiously, "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but. . . How did you get here? How did you get away Sebastian?"

"Why wouldn't I talk about it?" Clary asked, honestly unsure.

Jace knit his eyebrows together and exchanged looks with several other people in the room, all of whom seemed as shocked at her response as he was. He turned back to Clary. "Because you just went through something traumatic, I'm sure. You probably don't want to relive all of that."

"I'm a Shadowhunter, Jace," Clary replied plainly, as if the others were being ridiculous in their thinking that she was emotionally unstable. "I'm fine. Let the past go and focus on the future, right? You guys need to catch Jonathan, and my story can help you. I know that. I just don't know what I can tell you. It's all a really big blur. And I never saw where we were. I just got out of there as fast as I could."

"Yeah, but. . . How? Clary, Sebastian's always careful. How did you get past him?"

"You're right. My brother is always careful. But he's also always conceited, self-assured, and overconfident. He didn't even notice that the manacles he had around my wrists and ankles were coming unscrewed."

"The what?" Jocelyn asked, horrified.

"Jocelyn," Maryse said, "maybe you don't need to hear all of this. Why don't you wait outside?"

"I'm not leaving her again," Jocelyn replied fiercely.

"Mom," said Clary, and Jocelyn turned to look at her daughter. "She's right. You don't need to hear this and you know you don't want to."

Jocelyn was taken aback. "Clary, I—"

"Go. I'll be fine. Luke, you should go with her." Luke looked inclined to disagree, but lead Jocelyn from the room without a fuss.

Clary watched them go, waiting for the door to shut behind them before she spoke again. "So, where should I start?"

"Well, you were saying something about manacles?" Jace said with some difficulty, his mind coming up with thousands of horrible situations in which Clary could have been with Sebastian.

Clary told them all about Sebastian, the chair, and the Infernal Cup and how her brother had tried to make her drink the thick, black fluid that was in it.

"When I realized that one of the manacles was loose, I knew that I just had to fight him off for a few more minutes before I could get free and find a way out. Sebastian had gotten angry and turned his back to go pick up a knife of the dresser. While he was distracted, I managed to pull up all four of the cuffs without him seeing. When he turned back around, I jumped him. During the fight, the knife nicked me a couple of times and, at one point, Jonathan grabbed me by the back of my neck and slammed my head against the ground before he pulled out some syringe and tried to give me something that should have knocked me out, but I was able to pull away before too much of it got in my system. Still, I think I got a concussion and that, in combination with whatever he'd given me, was making me really dizzy. Eventually, I was able to grab Jonathan's stele from his weapons belt and run to lock myself in the bathroom. I actually nearly passed out before I could even do anything. My brother was yelling and beating on the door and it sounded like the wood was breaking apart. I was finally able to muster up the strength to portal out of there to come here to the Institute. And then it's all kind of blurry. I don't remember anything else until I woke up here, with Magnus just staring at me like I was an animal in a zoo."

Jace looked up at Magnus, who threw his hands up defensively. "Hey, I was just waiting to see if she'd wake up. Which she did. You're welcome, by the way."

"Yeah, the Institute can foot the bill for your services," Jace said, rolling his eyes and turning back to Clary. "Clary, there's just one thing that doesn't make sense to me. When we found you, I tried to put an iratze on you, but it faded almost instantly and it didn't wake you up. It healed all of your bruises and cuts, but it didn't help you wake up. I don't think it helped with your head injury."

"It didn't," Maryse supplied. "But she's fine now, Jace. I checked on her thoroughly. She's just fine now."

"But why didn't the rune work?"

"Maybe what Sebastian gave me in the vial was some demon sedative or something? Or maybe it was whatever her used to knock me out in the first place to bring me there. Jace, I really don't know."

"But you must remember something," Jace insisted.

"Jace, please." Clary's voice was weary and tired. "I don't know. You have to trust me. I would tell you if I could, but I can't."

"Well, my job's done," said Magnus as he straightened up from his place on the wall. "I'll send you the bill. Alec, can I talk to you for a moment?" He didn't wait for a response.

As Magnus exited, followed a moment later by Alec, Jace turned back to Clary in time to catch her glare; she was watching Magnus and Alec cautiously, her eyes narrowed at them as if they'd committed an unspeakable crime against her.

"Clary? What is it? What's wrong?"

Clary glanced around the room at the others, finally bringing her eyes back to meet Jace's. The rest of the room looked on anxiously, concerned after hearing Jace's worried tone saying Clary's name. "I need them to leave," Clary whispered. "All of them. There's something I have to tell you, but we have to be alone."

Jace hesitated, though he wasn't sure why, before turning and giving a reassuring nod to the five other people in the room. "It's okay. Just give us a couple of minutes. Then you can continue all of your fussing over her."

When the last of them—Simon, who looked mildly cautious about leaving Clary—had closed the door behind him, Jace felt Clary's hand on his arm tighten, her other hand reaching up to grab his shirt, pulling him to where they were almost nose to nose with each other.

"Jace, Jonathan said something to me that you need to hear."

Jace, sputtering, replied, "About what? About Magnus? About Alec?"

"No. I mean, I don't know for sure. Maybe," Clary said with a frightening sense of urgency. She shook her head and pulled Jace even closer. "Listen, Jace. My brother has people everywhere. When I was hiding in the bathroom, trying to draw the portal, he was on the other side, screaming at me that there was nowhere I could go on this Earth where he couldn't find me, nowhere I can go where he won't be watching. Not the Institute, not the Clave, not even to Alicante. He's infiltrated the Clave. I don't know who to trust."

Jace waited a moment before he spoke. "So why are you trusting me?"

Clary's mouth quirked up in a sad grin. "Because if he'd gotten you to turn , I'd rather turn along with you than lose you to him and have fight against you."

"And Magnus and Alec?"

"It's Magnus I don't trust, Jace, and you shouldn't either. Think about it: he's one of the most powerful warlocks in the world and he has ties to the Institute. He could be using Alec, he could be using all of you, and you wouldn't even know it."

"Magnus wouldn't do that. Clary, if you'd seen the way he acted when you were gone—"

"Exactly. Acted. He's over 800 years old. I'm sure he's picked up some amazing acting skills in all that time. I'm not saying I'm sure about him. I'm just saying. . . If you care about Alec, keep him away from Magnus right now." Clary's eyes moved once again to the closed infirmary doors through which Magnus and Alec had just left. "Just be careful who you trust right now, Jace. Better yet, don't trust anyone."

Caterina sat in a plush arm chair in a darkened bedroom. The tall-stemmed glass in her hand held a red liquid, much thicker than any wine. A fire burned in the fireplace, warming the space and keeping the cold of the coming winter at bay. She turned to look at Sebastian, lying on the bed. He was shirtless, and even in the dim light the old whip weals across his back were visible. She had always been fascinated by Shadowhunters but had never thought she would find one whose personality she could stand for more than five minutes, until Sebastian. He was different. He wasn't one of them. He didn't put himself above Downworlders like the others did. He was polite and kind when he needed to be, and dark and sexy when he really wanted to be. Like the night before.

Now, she was sitting and waiting patiently for him to wake up. She looked down at the glass in her hand and swirled the blood in it before taking a sip.

"Using my good crystal glasses for blood again, are we?" said a voice from behind her, and she turned to see Sebastian standing behind the chair, his hands on either side of the back. He'd moved more quickly and silently than any other Shadowhunter she'd ever met. Then again, he wasn't just any Shadowhunter. "You know, that stuff stains."

Caterina smiled sultrily, setting her wine glass on the small table beside the chair. She rose from the chair, turning to face Sebastian, her bottom lip pouting playfully. "Apologies, my love."

Sebastian's eyes raked over her greedily as she moved forward, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. "Whose blood might that be?"

Caterina reached down and picked up Sebastian's left hand, holding it too her lips. A buzz went through her body and made her feel dizzy. "You are immune to my glamours. I'm sure you remember."

A dark smile curved the white-blond boy's lips. "Of course I do. I just wanted to see if you did."

The vampire cocked her head to the side and dropped his hand. A sharp pain was forming in the back of her head, and she was even dizzier now. Her stomach lurched and she felt as if she might be sick. Still, she did not let any signs of this weakness known to the Shadowhunter before her. "Why would I not remember?"

"You can feel it, can't you?" Sebastian watched her, the smirk on his face turning darker and nastier as her knees buckled under her and she reached out to grab the table for support, knocking the glass of blood off as she collapsed, gasping for air. "The holy water, poisoning your blood? Setting every cell in your body on fire? Harmless to someone like me, it just sits in my bloodstream. Waiting for someone like you to come along and drink it."

Caterina lay gasping on the floor, her veins burning with the blessed holy water spreading through them. "Why?" she choked out. "I helped you. I did everything you asked."

"Yes," Sebastian replied, leaning down and hovering over her body. "You did."

"Then why?"

"Because you already did everything I asked," he said, as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world. "Because you've run out of use to me."

"You still need me," she croaked. "You still need a vampire—"

"He already has one, sweetheart," said a nasally, high-pitched voice from the doorway, and Caterina managed to move her head to see a young blond girl before her. She was wearing a tight, low-cut red blouse covered by a leather jack with leather pants and heels that could have been used to kill a person. For all Caterina knew, they had been used to kill a person, maybe even multiple people.

Sebastian looked up at her and nodded approvingly. "Welcome back. And I like the new clothes. The whole 'sexy biker vamp' look really works well on you."

The girl walked up to Sebastian and wrapped an arm around his waist, just as Caterina did. "Thanks. It's classic but not overdone. That's the same thing I said to the girl I got them from. Right before I ripped her throat out, of course."

Sebastian make a tsk sound with his tongue. "Maureen, dear, you haven't been making a scene, now have you?"

"She was asking for it," the girl called Maureen replied innocently. "All I wanted were her earrings. She's the one who wanted to start screaming. Or, trying to scream. She never really got the chance."

"Well, let me ask you this: were you all vamped-out when you asked her for her earrings? Fangs extended, snarling face, creepy eyes?"

Maureen swayed her hips playfully and smiled. "I don't see how that's relevant."

Sebastian beamed down at her, putting an index finger beneath her chin and raising her face to his. "That's my girl," he said and brought his lips down on hers. It wasn't until Caterina felt the holy water reach her heart, making her let out a piercing wail, that they seemed to remember that they weren't alone. Sebastian pulled back from Maureen, sliding an arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him. "Oh, Caterina, how rude of me. I've forgotten to introduce you. Caterina, this is Maureen Brown. My new vampire girl."

"Magnus, what's going on?" Alec asked exasperatedly, following Magnus as he led them down yet another corridor. Magnus didn't reply, but kept walking, occasionally trying a door knob and then moving on when that door turned out to be locked. "Magnus! What are you doing? You said you wanted to talk to me."

"Wait," Magnus said anxiously. "We have to find somewhere we can talk without being overheard." He tried another door, and again he turned away in anger when it wouldn't open.

"Now you're just being paranoid. No one is listening to you. And if you don't stop and talk to me in the next ten seconds, I'm not even going to listen to you.

Magnus stopped and sighed, turning to look at Alec. Realizing that the black-haired boy wasn't bluffing, he quickly looked over his shoulder to make sure they hadn't been followed, and then faced Alec once more. "What I'm about to say," Magnus whispered finally, "needs to stay between the two of us."

"That's never been a problem with us before," Alec replied dryly, and Magnus's cheeks flushed slightly.

"I'm serious, Alec."

"Fine, I promise. What's eating at you?"

Magnus bit his lip, but finally answered. "I want you to stay away from Clary as much as you can. At least for right now. Please."

"Clary?" Alec replied, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't explain right now. You just have to trust me. Please."

"No! You can't just tell me something like that and expect me to take you at your word."

"Alexander—"

"Don't 'Alexander' me. Stop treating me like I'm a child. I may not be centuries old, but I am eighteen. According to the Clave, I'm an adult. Come on, you know me. Whatever it is, I can take it. What's going on?" Magnus looked at him pleadingly, but didn't answer. "Fine," Alec said, turning to leave.

Magnus dragged his hand down over his face in exasperation. "Alec," Magnus said hesitantly. "Wait. I'll tell you." Alec stopped and turned back around to look at Magnus, who didn't meet Alec's eyes as he spoke. "When you found Clary earlier, she was unconscious, right? Maia said that she'd opened the door and found Clary there, and Clary passed out as soon as Maia saw her?"

"Yeah," replied Alec cautiously. "That's right. So what?"

"So, Clary wasn't really unconscious. I checked on her, Alec. I thought of any and every illness or injury that could have made her pass out, but there was nothing physically wrong with her. Her pulse was strong and her breathing was too fast for her to be knocked out. She was awake the whole time, I'm sure of it. She was faking."

"What? Why would she be faking? Why would she pretend to be unconscious? We'd found her, she was safe, with friends. Are you sure she wasn't just exhausted?"

"All of vital signs were strong. Not just that, they were more than just healthy. They were better than strong. All of her wounds were superficial and they missed the vital organs."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that whoever hurt her made sure not to leave any permanent damage that couldn't be fixed by an iratze."

"Sebastian's obsessed with her. It makes sense that he wouldn't want to hurt her I suppose."

"There's more. When I was checking on her, there was something. . . I don't know. There was something dark about Clary. And Alec, I'm starting to think she isn't herself."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't tell me you didn't notice that there was something way off about her when she was talking about her brother before, Alec."

"She's just escaped from the creep, Magnus. Why wouldn't there be something off when she talks about it?"

"But she didn't even flinch when she was telling the story. And, besides, since when does Clary call her brother by his name? She's always tried to deny that he's her brother, and so she never calls him by his name. Why change that now?"

"Maybe Sebastian just said something to her that freaked her out or maybe she's just. . . I don't know, Magnus," Alec finished exasperatedly.

"And what about her escape? That whole story makes no sense whatsoever. Why would Sebastian be careless as to keep a stele with him around Clary, or to not check the cuffs he was going to hold her down with?"

"Maybe he just underestimated her," Alec reasoned.

"I doubt that. If there's one thing I can say about Sebastian, it's that he isn't stupid. And Don't you think it's just a little weird that he called Jocelyn to make sure we knew we had Clary in the first place?"

"He called her to screw with her head. He's a psychopath. It's what he does!"

"There's more to it than just that and you know it. He called to make absolutely sure that we knew that he had Clary and that we would never see her again."

"What are you getting at, Magnus?"

"Why would he bother telling us? We would have assumed that he had her anyway, and we would have known that he wouldn't let her go willingly."

"Wait, so you think. . . You think Sebastian just let Clary go? Why in the name of the Angel would he do that?"

"Maybe we were wrong about why he took her in the first place. Maybe he didn't want her for her power with the runes. Maybe he just needed a spy in the Institute."

"But Clary would never—"

"No, Clary would never do anything to hurt any of us. Like I said earlier, I don't think Clary is exactly herself right now."

Alec's face drew together in confusion and then dropped when the sudden understanding of Magnus's words hit him. "You think he turned her? You think she drank from the Infernal Cup?"

"It makes sense. Think about—"

"There's no sense in what you're saying right now, Magnus!" Alec exclaimed, astounded by Magnus's accusations. "Clary isn't one of them. I would be able to tell, Jace—"

"Jace is a love-struck idiot who is blind to reality when it comes to Clary. And you knew, if Clary hadn't have showed up, I was ready to go to Hell and back to find her and Sebastian. Both of you needed her to come back safe and sound, and now that she's here, you won't let anyone tell you that she isn't a hundred percent perfect. You can't afford for something to be wrong. You both have important things to lose if something does go wrong."

"And you don't? You were going to put your life on the line, go to a demon dimension to talk to your father—"

"Which wasn't nearly as important to me as protecting you. You people, you're the only family I have now," Magnus continued tiredly. "And you. . ."

"What about me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I was going to my father to find Sebastian because I knew I had to save you. I was protecting you. I'm always protecting you. My senses have become finely tuned in noticing things that can cause harm to you, and Clary's reappearance set those senses on fire. At first, I thought Clary was dying, which I know would hurt you, that's why I wanted to help her. I only grew suspicious when I realized that she was pretending to be ill. But one thing, about all else, made me realize what had really happened between Clary and her brother." Alec remained silent, awaiting Magnus's revelation. "Her eyes," the latter finished darkly.

"What do you mean?" Alec answered cautiously. "What about her eyes?"

"When she opened them earlier, she looked right at me," said Magnus. "And there was a look in them that's I'd only ever seen one other time with one other person."

"Who?"

"Amatis Herondale," Magnus replied darkly.

"Amatis? Luke's sister, the woman who was married to Jace's father?"

Magnus nodded solemnly. "And the first Shadowhunter to drink from the Infernal Cup. During the battle in the Burren, Amatis tried to kill me. And when I looked into her eyes, they weren't hers anymore. They were cold and dark and empty. And I saw the same thing when Clary first opened her eyes today in the infirmary."

"Clary is not a Dark Shadowhunter!" Alec bellowed, glaring at Magnus. Magnus looked back at him, surprised but standing his ground. "She can't be. Jace is doing so much better now that she's back and I'm happier now that I know I'm not going to lose you. Doesn't that mean anything to you? You said you wanted to protect me."

"I'm doing this all to keep you safe. I can't let anything happen to you, Alec. I am protecting you!"

"If you really cared about me, Magnus, you would have answered your phone at least once in the past month, even if it was to tell me to stop thinking things were going to change. At least it would have been something! One phone call, that's all I needed. But no, you didn't care that much. So don't tell me that trying to ruin the life I've built up after you and destroy the happiness I'm finally starting to feel again is you trying to take care of me."

"Alexander—"

"Go home, Magnus," said Alec coldly. "I don't think we'll be needing you again anytime soon. If we do, I'll be sure to call somebody else."

Magnus sighed in defeat and brushed past Alec, stopping once he reached the end of the hallway and speaking again. "Just look at her eyes, Alexander. I promise that you'll soon discover that the Clary that returned to the Institute is not the same Clary that Jace was willing to venture into Hell to get back."

Jordan stepped through the front door of the Praetor House. The was a time when walking into the foyer brought him comfort; after a hard day of training, Jordan would return to the House, surrounded by other werewolves just like him. They were his friends and family. They were his pack. And, he realized as a large, burly wolf stepped in front of him, they had never stopped being any of those things.

"Kyle?" said the older boy in a rough, deep voice.

"Mason Xavier!" Jordan said happily, shaking his head as the other wolf pulled him into a bear hug.

"Hey, man! What the Hell are you doing here? I heard you were off on assignment."

"I was. I mean, I am. I'm here to talk to Scott. Is he here?"

Xavier's face fell, his expression more serious. "Is he expecting you?"

"Not exactly."

"You know the old man won't see you without an appointment."

"This is really important, Mas. I have to talk to him." Jordan moved to walk past his old training buddy, but felt a strong hand grab his arm, preventing Jordan from going further than two steps up the large staircase that served as the center of the room.

"You know I can't let you—"

"It's alright, Praetor Xavier," a voice from the top of the stairs interrupted. "Praetor Kyle and I have an understanding. Come with me please, Jordan."

The hard grip on Jordan's arm was released and he quickly ran up the stairs to follow the alpha werewolf to his office.

"I wasn't aware that you were coming to the Praetor House this morning," said Scott in a hushed voice, closing the door behind him as the two of them entered his office. Like the office at the warehouse, it was plushly furnished like a lawyer's office. But, unlike the warehouse, this office wasn't secret to the rest of the Praetor Lupus. Which was exactly what Jordan wanted.

"I have some news about the Lightwoods that I knew you needed to hear."

"Alright. Still, I don't see why you couldn't at least phone first so that we could meet in a more private setting."

"Why are you so worried about the Praetor finding out about the little side assignment you gave me?"

"That is none of your concern, Praetor Kyle," Scott spat angrily through gritted teeth, and it took all of Jordan's willpower not to flinch away. This man may have been his alpha, but his ideas weren't in the right place. He wasn't thinking straight. He had to know that the Lightwoods weren't the enemies. And for Jordan to convince him of this, he would need to be strong and unafraid when talking to the older werewolf.

"Of course sir," he said placating. "As I was saying, there have been several developments since the last time we spoke, and I wanted to fill you in."

Praetor Scott sat down in the large chair behind his desk, gesturing for Jordan to do the same in a smaller chair opposite him. Jordan remained standing. "Alright, then. Proceed."

"First, Valentine's daughter has returned safely to the Institute."

"Good news, obviously. Why, however, has this warranted an unannounced visit to the Praetor House?"

"That isn't the reason I came here today. You sent me to spy on the Lightwood Institute. I came to tell you all that I've learned from them in the short time I've been observing them."

"I'm not sure that two days is long enough—"

"I've learned more about these people in two days than you know about them know. Trust me when I say that you need to hear what I have to say."

"What could you possibly have learned that is so damned important?" Scott scoffed.

"Things you can't read in a report. Things you have to experience to understand. The Lightwoods are a loyal family, loyal to their friends and allies. And they will do anything to protect each other."

"Even disobey the Clave?" Scott replied hopefully.

"Yes," Jordan replied cautiously. "They were prepared to do something drastic to help track down Sebastian—Valentine's demon son—and get Clary back and they were prepared to do it without the approval of the Clave."

"And what was this drastic action they were going to perform without the Clave's permission?"

"It isn't relevant."

"I will decide what is and isn't relevant in these matters, Praetor Kyle." The alpha spoke with a poorly-controlled anger. "Your job is to inform me of everything you observed while you were with the Lightwoods."

Jordan smirked at Praetor Scott and leaned forward, his palms pressing on the hard wooden desk. "Gladly. Where shall I start? I guess I'll start with Isabelle. I learned that Isabelle Lightwood is a girl of extreme bravery. She's sixteen years old and she's still one of the most amazing Shadowhunters I've ever seen in action. But, she's also a girl of extreme heart. She puts her family and friends before anything else all the time without a second thought. She acts so tough, but she's really soft-hearted. She's has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met even though she's given half of heart away to someone else, Simon.

"Simon Lewis. The Daylighter. My roommate and my assignment. A vampire, though you'd never know it by talking to him. He's a total nerd and all he talks about is Dungeons and Dragons. He has a soul and he holds onto his humanity as hard as he can, until his knuckles have turned white, and even then. No matter how much pain and suffering it causes him. Even though he isn't still in love with Clary, he protects her as if she's the most important thing in the world to him, because she is. Though now she has to share that place with Isabelle. And Simon's family, what he's prepared to do for them, well. . . It's truly heartbreaking.

"Isabelle's brother, Alec, he's really brave too. He's got the worst luck of any of them. He's in love too, also with a Downworlder. He and Magnus are probably the most sickly, sweetly in-love couple you will ever meet. At least, they were before they broke up. Now, it's just sad between them. Every time Alec is in the same room as Magnus, he stares at him. I don't even know if he realizes he's doing it. He just does. And, despite that, despite the fact that he can't be with the love of his life right now, he still fights. His family is the most important thing to him, and he knows that he can't take care of them like he should be able to if he lets himself think about the fact that his life is literally going to Hell. People underestimate Alec, but he might just be the strongest and bravest of them all, even up against his parabatai, Jace.

"Jace Lightwood. He may be a Herondale by blood, but he will always be a Lightwood at heart. His love fuels him as much as his hate. I mean, he hates Sebastian, but I think it's only because he's a threat to Clary. There are times when Jace is talking about Clary or about love, and I could swear that his life is actually connected to Clary's. It's like you know that, the minute Clary's heart stops, he'll be lying dead on the ground, surrounded by the bodies of the people who took her from him, a sword through his own heart. He's a fierce warrior, a true Shadowhunter."

"That's quite enough, Praetor Kyle," Scott snapped.

"I'm not done," Jordan remarked quietly, though not without malice, surprising both Scott and himself. "You wanted to know what I learned, and so you are going to hear it." Praetor Scott sat back in his chair, stunned, and Jordan continued.

"Maia Roberts. A werewolf, like us. Loyal to her pack leader, Luke, until death. Not very tall and not very physically strong, but still strong-minded and high-spirited. Not only has she been vital to the success of the New York Institute, but she has also been vital in my own success. She's the reason I'm alive today, and I'll never forget that. She's brave and I don't know what I'd do without her."

"Praetor Kyle, I am warning you—"

"And do you want to know what I learned about Maryse Lightwood?" Jordan continued over Scott's voice. "Maryse Lightwood is strong in so many ways. She's strong-minded, strong-hearted, and strong-bodied, but she's also a strong mother. Definitely the strongest I've ever met, especially in the face of everything that has happened to her. She's lost so much because of the Clave, but she still keeps going. Because she knows that she has a job, as a Shadowhunter, as the head of the Institute, and as the head of her family. She's lost her youngest son to the cause, almost lost the rest of her children, too. But she never complained. And she wasn't going to. She knows who she is and that it requires some sacrifices. The only reason she's willing to rebel now is because the Clave's laws are making the deaths of her family members and friends be in vain. Their laws prevent the Shadowhunters from doing their jobs. The Clave is corrupt. They are the ones who have put even their worst Nephilim above us. Not the Lightwoods. They believe in what it truly means to be a Shadowhunter. They believe in loyalty.

"And then there's me. I'm the weakest of them. The coward. The one who let myself buy into the delusion that they are somehow the evil ones, the enemy. Now I know how wrong that is. They aren't the enemy. They're people of loyalty and heart, two things I am severely lacking in. That's what I came to tell you. I won't spy on them anymore. I want to be part of that family, and I can't do that if I'm the knife you're using to stab them in the back. They aren't our enemy. They can't be our enemy."

Praetor Scot exploded, standing up quickly and knocking his chair over in the process. "The Shadowhunters are already our enemies," he growled at Jordan. "We live by their laws and so they permit us to live in their world in peace. Or so they say. They find any reason, any tiny infraction in the accords and then they kill us. It's like a sport to them."

"That's not the Lightwoods, though. That's not what they believe in. They're different from the rest of the Clave."

"There is no difference between them and the 'people' that have hunted my family for generations. That is why my ancestors created the Praetor Lupus and why I still lead it. We find new Downworlders and help them before the Shadowhunters decide that they are threats to society. We save people."

"The Lightwoods don't hate Downworlders. They aren't like that—"

"Maryse and Robert Lightwood were in Valentine's Circle. What makes you think they've given up all of the ways they had for so long? They're all the same! All but one of them. The one who was born to them and yet is still hunted by them like a wild buck, like us. He has promised to bring an end to the Shadowhunters."

Jordan stared at his alpha, letting his words sink in. It took him a minute to realize who he was talking about. But then it hit him like a ton of bricks. "Sebastian? You've joined his side?"

"My ancestors died so that they could be fur coats to the rich and all-powerful Shadowhunter race. I am doing thing to honor them and to ensure the survival of my kind. You should be thanking me."

Jordan's mind was still reeling. Sebastian had gotten to the Praetor and, from what Clary has said, the Seelie Court as well. How many Downworlders had Sebastian gained on his side? "Sebastian is going to destroy this world with Hellfire," Jordan explained carefully. "He's not just going to kill all the Shadowhunters. He's going kill every single person on this Earth, even you and the pack."

"My pack has already been promised safe haven by Valentine's son. He only wants what we want; he only wants the end of the Shadowhunters' tyranny."

"But at what cost? Sebastian is a manipulative liar. He's a demon in human form. What makes you think he won't kill you the second he's done with you?"

"Do you think death is the worst thing that can happen to us, Praetor Kyle? Do you think living is the only thing worth living for? If that's what you're thinking, you're wrong. I'd rather die well than live a long, realizing too late that I could done something bigger with my time here."

"You already know you're going to die," Jordan replied solemnly. "Don't you?"

Scott nodded. "And I've accepted it. If it brings an end to that infernal race, my death will have served its purpose."

"You're crazy," Jordan whispered in bewilderment. He stood up and quickly took his exit the room, ignoring the protests of the older werewolf. It wasn't until he was down the long hallway and at the foot of the giant main staircase that Jordan heard Scott's booming voice coming from the top of the stairs again.

"Jordan!" he bellowed.

Jordan stopped, his jaw set, and turned to face Praetor Scott. Several wolves had heard the altercation and had stepped out of their bedrooms, watching as the conversation ensued.

"Does your pack know that their souls have been signed over to devil?" Jordan asked, and many familiar faces around him turned to talk amongst themselves, various worried expressions on their faces. "I'll take that as a no."

"Jordan?" said a small voice beside him, and Jordan turned to see a little boy with dark hair and bright green eyes walk toward him. He couldn't have been more than ten years old. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't say a word, Praetor Kyle," said Scott. "This is between you and me alone."

Jordan ignored him, leaning down to the little boy. "It's Cale, right? How old are you? Nine?"

"Ten next month," Cale announced proudly.

"That's pretty young, Cale. Ten years old. And yet Praetor Scott has sold your soul without so much as asking your permission. I'll bet he didn't even tell you about it, did he?"

"That's enough!" exclaimed Scott.

"Mr. Scott?" the little boy beside Jordan asked. "What's he talking about?"

"Nothing—"

"He hasn't told any of you, has he? That he's joined with Sebastian and his legion of Dark Shadowhunters? That he expects you to fight alongside them and bring the world to an end just to be rid of Shadowhunters?" Jordan looked at the blank faces surrounding him and accepted them as answer enough in the silence that had followed his words. "Well, I'm not fighting with him. And none of you have to either! You never have to fight a war that you don't belong in. That's one of the first things I learned here. So who's leaving with me and who's staying here? If you come with me, I can promise you a home and a family and a pack that care about you. A pack that will keep you safe."

"Treason," Scott replied quietly, before raising his voice so that everyone in the house could hear. "What you are suggesting is treason against the Praetor Lupus!"

"I'm with you, Jordan," Cale answered immediately with a smile. "I don't want to fight anyone. Now when they never did anything to me."

Jordan grinned and patted Cale on the shoulder before turning back to the masses of werewolves around him. "Anyone else?"

"I'll come with you, too," said a dusty-haired boy that Jordan recognized vaguely, and he came to stand behind Jordan.

"So will I," remarked another voice, this one belonging to an older boy who came to stand behind Cale, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Jordan noticed that the two shared the same green eyes and dark hair—a family resemblance. He nodded at the older boy and then looked into the eyes of ever other wolf he could catch the gaze of.

"Last chance, guys," Jordan spoke to them, a pleading note slipping into his voice. "Who's coming with me?"

A few werewolves inched toward him nervously, but Scott, still standing stiffly at the top of the stairs, raised his voice, stopping them in their tracks. "Before any more rash decisions are made, know this. Anyone who walks out that door tonight has broken the sacred allegiance to the Praetor. You will be on your own."

Jordan's heart sank deep inside his chest; the Praetor had rescued him, had been his home for years. He remembers all of the happy memories that had happened in the very house that he was about to leave behind forever.

And then he remembered that the people here were not who he used to think they were. They were willing to kill and hurt people, innocent people, two qualities he had never had any respect for. They were trying to hurt the people he had come to consider not only close friends, but who were the closest things he had to family. And these people were even willing to destroy the world in the process.

His teeth grinding together in anger, Jordan reached his hand up and ripped the Praetor Lupus pendant from his neck. Glancing down at is for one last time, he raised his head and threw it violently to the ground. "Beati bellicosi," he said. "Remember, Praetor Scott?"

"'Blessed be the warriors.' The mantra of the Praetor Lupus."

Jordan's mouth curved into a wicked grin. "And it's a lie. Your warriors and this pack lose the blessing of God the second they side with the devil."

"If you join the Shadowhunters' side, you will be the enemy. And if fight with them, you will die."

"There's more to life than living. Isn't that what you said earlier? And if these are all that will join me, we'll be leaving now. I will see you all on the front lines, gentlemen. I'm fighting for this because it's right, not because it's safe. So give it your shot because I'm not going down easy." Jordan nodded at Cale and the other boys to leave, but felt a tight grip on his arm, holding him in place as he tried to leave. The grip, Jordan discovered, was of the same wolf that blocked his path earlier.

"You traitor!" Xavier exclaimed. "this pack has given you everything. We're your family. And you're just going turn against us?"

"At least I'm not going to be responsible for setting off a domino effect that could wipe out the whole world."

Mason's hand flew to Jordan's throat, choking him. Jordan did nothing to fend off the attack, knowing not to show the fear the was screaming at him inside. Instead, he only looked back defiantly. Cale and his brother rushed to Jordan's side, protecting their new leader. While the older boy—Jordan thought his name was Michael—grabbed at Xavier's strong hands around Jordan's throat, Cale managed to wedge himself between Xavier and Jordan, pushing the bigger werewolf away with all of his strength. Their efforts, however, did nothing to release Mason's grip. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't snap your neck—"

"Let him go, Xavier," Scott instructed and Xavier, though reluctantly, dropped his hand from Jordan's neck. Cale didn't move from his protective position in front of Jordan as Michael pushed against Xavier's chest until he was at a safe, non-attack ready distance from him. Jordan placed his hand on Cale's shoulder again, this time in a both appreciative and protective manner, moving to stand in front of the smaller boy and nodding at Michael to get behind him as well. "He shall die a death that is worthy of his life," Scott continued. "He will die in battle. Ave atque vale, Jordan. That is what your precious Shadowhunters say to their fallen heroes, isn't it?"

Jordan didn't respond. He only glared up at Scott for a moment before turning to the door and gesturing once more for the others to leave before him. Once Cale, the last of them, had passed through the door, Jordan took one last look around him. And, with an aching in his heart, he realized that the next time he saw these people, they would probably be trying to kill him.

The hallway of the Institute was dark and cold. Alec was running barefoot, his breathing becoming more and more labored. He kept looking over his shoulder, though, at the moment, he couldn't exactly remember what it was he was looking for. When he had finally assured himself that he wasn't being followed, Alec slowed his pace, eventually stopping and catching his breath. He took one last look behind him before breathing a sigh of relief and spinning back around—

—right into a soft, warm body. A scream was building in his throat as he looked up into the face of the person he'd run into. Magnus's hand clamped down over Alec's hand before the scream had made its way past his lips. "Hush!" Magnus hissed. "Now, I'll let you go if you promise to stay quiet." Alec's racing heart finally started to slow down, and he stopped struggling against the warlock's grip, at which point Magnus finally released him.

"Magnus?" Alec whispered in a daze. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you to be careful," Magnus answered wearily, his hands reaching Alec's shoulders. "Why do you never listen?"

"Be careful? What are you talking about? Magnus, I don't understand. What's going on?"

Magnus opened his mouth but, before he could form a response, an animalisticly guttural sound escaped his lips. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Her," he finally whispered before he collapsed to the ground. Panic set in as Alec looked up the crumpled warlock that lay before him to see Sebastian, standing just behind the body, an oddly shaped bloody object in his hand. Alec, with a jolt, looked down at Magnus's body and noticed the gaping hole in his shirt, right over the place where—

Alec looked back at the object in Sebastian's hand and felt his stomach churn as the words burned into his mind. The hole in Magnus's shirt was right over where his heart should have been. Only Magnus's heart had been ripped grotesquely from its natural place and was now balanced in the pale palm of Clary's older brother.

"I have to admit, Lightwood, I never thought you had it in you. I guess there is such a thing as conditional love. I've had my suspicions for a while, but I never guessed you would be the one to prove me right."

"What are you talking about?" was the only response Alec could come up with, his mind still spinning after what had just happened.

Sebastian didn't answer. He only gestured down at Alec's hands, a sly smirk on his face. Alec's gaze followed the demon spawn's and, upon seeing his hands, he had to stifle a scream. His hands were covered in blood and warm and heavy in his left hand was the same heart he'd just seen Sebastian holding.

Magnus's heart.

He raised his eyes back to Sebastian, ready to scream and yell, which seemed the only thing he could do. "What kind of trick is this?" he was about to say. But, when his eyes came into contact with the pair of eyes opposite him, the words froze in his throat. Because the eyes weren't the dark tunnels of Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. They were a familiar piercing blue, set in a familiar angular face. His own face.

It wasn't another person anymore. It was a twisted reflection of himself, his own eyes with a wicked gleam in them, his own mouth curved into a devilish grin, and his own hand extended out, displaying the grotesque sight of the heart, which, Alec realized suddenly, was still beating slowly. The beats were growing louder, deafening even. Alec threw the beating heart down and raised his hands, still sticky with blood, to cover his ears. The beating grew louder and faster still, and, eventually, even Alec's hands couldn't block out their cacophony. He dropped down into a low crouch next to Magnus's limp body and screamed.

Alec lurched upward in his bed, his heart racing, beads of sweat rolling down his bare chest. He gasped for air as he took in his surroundings—his bedroom, though thrown into a shroud of darkness by the curtains over the windows, was still recognizable. Alec looked over at his nightstand, reading the alarm clock that sat on top of it. It was just after noon now. After his talk with Magnus, Alec had retired to his room for some much-needed rest.

Magnus. the name brought back memories of the chilling nightmare from which Alec had just awoken. Magnus's warning, Sebastian, his own twisted reflection, and the sick, twisted beating of the disembodied heart all still lingered, fresh and horrifying in his mind. He could have even swore that he could still hear the beating.

Wait a minute, Alec thought to himself. I do hear beating. Where the Hell is that coming from?

"Alec!"

Alec leaped up out of the bed at the sound of the voice calling his name. But, now, the grogginess of sleep was wearing off, and he realized that the beating was only coming from someone knocking—though annoyingly persistently—at his bedroom door.

Grudgingly, he stood up and walked over to the door, throwing it open with more force than probably was necessary. "What the Hell do you want?" he growled without glancing at the person he was addressing. Once he noticed that it was his sister, Alec added vindictively, "Oh, I'm sorry. Do I need to vacate my room to give you and the Daylighter more private time? I'm afraid I may have interrupted something important earlier—"

"Oh, shut up," Isabelle replied irritably, nudging her brother's shoulder with her first and consequently losing her balance, having to reach out to hold on to the door frame for support. Alec leaned forward, putting a hand on Isabelle's upper arm and trying to catch her gaze, disappointed and slightly angry when he smelled alcohol on her breath.

"Isabelle, are you drunk?"

"No!" she answered indignantly. "I only had one drink. Okay, maybe two. I'm fine. Mom wanted me to come check on you. No one's seen you since you left with Magnus earlier and—"

"Mom didn't send you, Iz."

'What do you mean?" Isabelle slurred. "Of course she did."

"Mom abhors drinking. You and I both know to avoid her if we're going to go on a bender. But that's always been me or Jace. You never drink anymore. What's wrong?"

"You tell me. You're the one who looks like he's just seen a ghost."

"What? I'm fine. It was just a bad dream was all."

"You never get bad dreams. Jace never really had them, and you haven't had them since we were kids. It was just me that got them a lot. What was it about?"

Alec, not wanting to recount the terrifying nightmare, turned the conversation back to his sister. "Never mind that, Iz. Tell me what's going on with you? You've never really been a drinker, much less a day drinker. What's going on with you?"

Isabelle slipped past her brother and made her way into his room, flipping the light switch on as she did. "Simon wants to spend all of his time hovering over Clary. Or talking about her. Or doing anything that has to do with her, really. I don't know, Alec. I just feel like no matter how much he cares about me, he'll never really be able to get over her."

"She's his best friend, Isabelle," Alec said consolingly, closing the door and walking over to sit on his bed. "That's all."

"I know. I mean, I understand it."

"If you understand, why did you go and get totally wasted?"

"First of all, I am not totally wasted. I am just tipsy. And second, I'm not drinking to forget about him," Isabelle confessed. "I was drinking because of everything that's going on with Dad."

"Mom talked to you about that, then?"

Isabelle nodded. "How long have you known?"

Alec sighed. "Since he came back from Idris." Isabelle shot an incredulous look at her brother. "Izzy, I'm so sorry. We didn't want to tell you in case Dad didn't get the job and he had to stay here."

"But he's not staying, Alec. He's leaving us. Going to Idris." Tears swam in Isabelle's eyes, and she brushed them away impatiently with the back of her hand. "Why? What did we do to make him hate us so much?"

"Iz, he doesn't hate us. He's doing his duty to the Clave—"

Isabelle scoffed shortly, cutting him off. "The Clave. The all-mighty Clave and their council? Well, they can go screw themselves. Tearing families apart like they do, turning people against each other, ruining every happy occasion, even today. How do they live with themselves? And now Dad's going to be one of them. And I have to choose whether I want to go with him and go back to Idris, which is what every Shadowhunter should want even though I'll be totally alone, or if I stay here, with my family and friends. It's an impossible decision. How can they even expect me to make it so fast?"

"Look, I know it's a tough decision, but you have time to think about it. Dad isn't leaving until tomorrow night."

"So Mom didn't tell you, then?"

"Tell me what?"

"You being the trustworthy kid, I figured she'd trust you before me with anything."

"Isabelle," Alec snapped, "tell me what?"

Isabelle was taken aback momentarily by her brother's outburst. "Dad got another message from the Clave earlier. He's not leaving tomorrow. He's leaving tonight."

"What? No, why would he do that?"

"Like you said, it's his duty to the Clave."

"Isabelle, I'm so sorry—"

"Good riddance. The faster he's out of here, the faster we can move on in our lives. I just have to decide where I'm going to live my life for the next two years before he leaves."

"Iz—"

"Alec, I'm fine. Really. Our lives are already screwed up. They've been screwed up even since before Max died. Dad cheated on Mom before Max was even born. And after he died. . . It was like he'd never been born at all. And whatever progress Mom and Dad had made since then got destroyed, erased, like it never happened."

A tear rolled down Isabelle's face and Alec stood up, reaching out as he did and wrapping his arms around his sister comfortingly. "Hey," he whispered, rubbing her back gently. "I'm still here. Mom's still here. You're still here. Our family's not over yet."

"It's only a matter of time. As long as Sebastian's alive we're a ticking time bomb." Alec's sister pulled away from him, sitting down at the foot of his bed. "Sebastian ruined everything. And not just with us."

Alev moved to sit next to her. "I know. He's a demon."

"We have to stop him, Alec. We can't wait for the Clave to do it."

"Isabelle, listen to yourself. You're not you right now. You're drunk and you're upset—"

"Alec, I'm serious. He's going to destroy everything. After everything he's done, after Max and Jace and the Dark Shadowhunters, and then almost Clary, he's trying to destroy everything we have left. We can't let him. It's a miracle Jace and Clary have even survived this long. And Jace has that heavenly fire thing going on with him and Clary. . . Well, she just got lucky with escaping from Sebastian."

"Lucky. . ." Alec thought out loud, his mind wandering back to the nightmare.

"What is it?" Isabelle asked.

"Magnus said something to me earlier. I'm not supposed to talk about it to anyone else, but. . ."

"Alec, I'm your sister. Your family. You can trust me. What did he say?"

Alec bit his lip before answering. "He said that Clary's escape was too perfect. Too unlikely."

"So. . . what? He thinks Sebastian suddenly got a conscience and let her go?"

"Not exactly. He thinks Clary lost her conscience."

Understanding dawned on Isabelle's face. "He thinks she's a Dark Shadowhunter?"

"Yeah. I told it's not possible. But, the more I think about it. . ." he trailed off, his thoughts wandering back to the darkened hallway of the Institute and the lifeless warlock's body on the ground.

"Is that what your nightmare was about?" asked Isabelle. Alec nodded, and Isabelle continued. "Alec, it was a dream. Clary's fine. We can't start turning on each other. That's just what Sebastian wants."

"I'm not turning against her, Iz. I promise. We're a family. Clary's with Jace, so she's a part of the family now. I'll never turn against family."

Isabelle smiled weakly. "Me either."

Simon turned yet another corner in the Institute's maze of hallways and sighed. He'd been wandering around looking for Clary's room for nearly half an hour now. He'd managed to find his way back to the infirmary earlier with relative ease after he'd left the Institute to run down to Taki's for some fresh blood. However, when he returned, Jace had stood alone in the big white room, stripping the white sheets off the bed that Clary had been occupying only an hour before. Immediately, Simon's mind raced with dozens of scenarios to explain to himself why the bed was now empty, though none of them explained Jace's casual attitude. Cautiously, Simon had cleared his voice and spoke. "Jace?"

Jace had turned around and regarded Simon with the same lazy expression he always had. "Just because you can enter the Institute now, Daylighter, does not mean you can come here whenever you want."

"Where's Clary? Is she. . . Is she okay?"

Confusion had danced across Jace's face for a fleeting moment before he seemed to finally comprehend Simon's meaning when he followed the other boy's gaze to the empty white infirmary bed beside him. He raised his eyes back to Simon's before speaking, slightly softer this time, though not exactly gentle. Jace, Simon had thought, was not really a person who ever spoke gently, not even to people he actually liked. "She's fine," Jace said. "She wanted to go back to her room after Magnus said that she was okay."

"Oh. I'm surprised you aren't with her."

Jace had shrugged. "She said she wanted to be alone."

Simon chuckled at that. "Rule number one of dating, Jace: when a girl says they're fine and that they want to be left alone, it almost always means that they aren't okay and that they need someone to stay with them and talk to them."

Jace had been genuinely bewildered by this. "But Clary seemed like she meant it. She seemed alright. If she wasn't, why wouldn't she say something."

"Clary just escaped from her crazy brother, Jace. She's far from alright. And she wouldn't say anything because she's Clary! The stubborn, fiery redhead that would never admit to you if something was wrong. "

Jace scoffed. "Since when do you know everything about dating, Lewis?"

"That's common sense, Jace. I can see why you never learned it. You've never actually tried a long-term relationship before, have you? Clary's the first girl that you've actually had to try to keep and you're chasing your tail because you have no clue what to do."

Jace, instead of throwing back some witty comeback like Simon thought he was going to, sighed dejectedly and looked up at Simon. "So what do I do now? Should I just go and talk to—"

"Let me talk to her first, just to see how she is. Girls can come up with some pretty screwed up ideas when they're left alone for too long."

Jace had nodded and Simon had turned to leave the room, only turning back a moment late when Jace spoke to him once again. "Do you even know where Clary's room is?"

"I'll find it. How many rooms can this place have, right?"

Jace had tried to hide a smile as he focused his attention back on the bed, now stripping the pillows of their shams. "Whatever you say."

As it turned out, this place had many, many rooms. Simon, now hopelessly lost in the infinite labyrinth that made up the hallways of the Institute, was about to call Clary to ask for her help when the person in question turned a corner right in front of him and ran straight into him.

The impact didn't jar Simon, but he stepped back anyway to look down at the small figure he'd just run into. "Clary?" he asked in confusion. "I thought. . . I mean, Jace said you had gone to your room, that you wanted to be alone." Clary had obviously not been counting on running into anyone in this hallway, and still seemed at a slight loss for words.

"Simon?" she said. "I thought you'd left earlier, while I was sleeping."

"I just went to grab something to drink," Simon replied, holding up the coffee cup he held in his hand with "chkn bld" scrawled on the side and the name Taki's Diner printed across the front. Simon studied Clary's expression and picked up on the slight panic that was hidden in her eyes, along with something a lot darker. Clary was dressed stylishly—in clothes Simon would never have believed she owned had he not seen her in them before his very eyes—with a heavy winter jacket and thick gloves made for battling the cold New York weather outside. Over her shoulder hung her old messenger bag, the only thing that remained of the old Clary. "What's going on?" he inquired. "Are you going somewhere?"

"What's it to you if I am going somewhere?" Clary snapped immediately. "What, does Jace have you on babysitting duty too? Or have you just taken to stalking while I've been away?"

Simon was taken aback by Clary's blunt accusation. "No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Sorry. Anyway, it's none of my business where you're going. I guess you're right. Is Jace going with you, at least?"

"I don't need a bodyguard, Simon. I've escaped from my brother twice now. I don't get worried about much anymore."

"Clary, I don't think—" Simon began.

"Simon, look," Clary said, clearly trying to find a way out of the conversation. I can't talk right now. I have meet up with someone and I don't want to be late."

"Who? Can you tell me that, at least?" Simon prompted, but once he caught a glimpse at the glare Clary was giving him, he threw his hands up in surrender. "Never mind. None of my business. Got it. Jace won't be thrilled that you're leaving alone again, though."

"Yeah, well, he won't know I'm alone."

"Isn't that how all of this started, anyway? You lying to Jace and then sneaking out of the Institute completely alone and unprotected?"

"Look, I'm just going to meet someone really quick. I'll be back soon. I'm sick of everyone protecting me and worrying about me, Simon. It's time that I start fighting for myself, so that no one else has to do it for me. I'm not who these people need to be worrying about right now, anyway." Simon bit his lip, unsure as to what to say to her. Clary, her voice softer, though not without a tinge of annoyance, continued. "Look, all you have to do is walk me through the front doors of the Institute. Then we can part ways and I'll meet you again when it's time to come back. Jace doesn't have to know. He'll just think I'm with you."

"I'm just not sure lying to Jace is the best idea."

"Look, if he finds out, I'll take the blame, not you. I promise."

"That's what you said the last time," said a calm voice from the other end of the hallway, and Simon and Clary turned to see Isabelle standing there having just turned the corner. Simon wondered how long she'd been listening. "Remember how that turned out?"

"I'm still here, aren't I? And does everyone in this place eavesdrop on other people's conversations?"

Isabelle ignored Clary's second question. "You got kidnapped by your brother, Clary. You got away on sheer luck. If it came down to it, you could never really take Sebastian in a fight. And you sure as Hell wouldn't escape again."

"I'm not asking for opinion or your permission, Isabelle," Clary replied shortly.

"No, of course not. You never do. No one ever does!"

"For good reason, too. Listen, I'm not afraid of Jonathan. I can't just sit back and watch my life pass me by because you guys want to keep me in a prison. If all you do is keep me locked up in a great big castle for the rest of my life, how are you all any different from him? With the exception, of course, that he's more likely to survive this war than any of you are." Simon and Isabelle were speechless, which Clary took with great pride and continued. "Now, if you two don't mind, you've made me late for my appointment, and I'd rather not miss it entirely. So here's the moment of truth; are you going to go running to Jace or are you going to help me?"

"Clary, I'm sorry," Simon said after a moment. "But I have to—"

"Fine," Isabelle interrupted. "We'll help you. Just tell us what you need. And meet us back in no more than an hour. Deal?"

Clary eyed Isabelle suspiciously, and, Simon thought, with good reason after her sudden change of heart. "Deal," Clary finally agreed, turning on her heel—a heel far higher than Simon was used to seeing her wear—and started toward the end of the hallway.

Simon and Isabelle didn't move to follow her. Instead, Simon grabbed Isabelle's arm and spun her around to face him. "What the Hell are you thinking?" he hissed. "We can't just let her go off alone again, not after what happened last time!"

"Who said anything about leaving her alone?" Izzy whispered back. "Well, I mean, I did. But what's important was the subtext. I'm not letting Clary out of my sight."

"Are you two lovebirds coming any time soon?" Clary's voice rang out in the otherwise quiet hallway.

Isabelle poked her head up and looked over her shoulder at Clary. "Yeah, we'll be there in a minute. Go ahead, we'll catch up." after the clacking of Clary's heels had faded off into another hallway, Isabelle turned back to Simon. "Trust me," she said feverently. "I'm going to find out what's going on here."

The faerie knight that sat at the outside patio table looked down once more at his watch. The person he was supposed to be meeting here was already ten minutes late. Mundanes passing by didn't give his blue-black hair or odd clothing a second glace—the power of a strong glamour. He'd been waiting at the Café Disparu—a small coffee shop that was a favorite meeting place for members of the Seelie Court—all afternoon, and now he was starting to get the feeling that he was going to be stood up. Like he had done once every few minutes for the past few hours, the man surveyed the crowd around him, searching for any sign of his visitor's unmistakable white-blond hair.

Agitated upon not seeing his guest, the faerie knight turned back around to face the table in front of him. Only, when he turned around, the chair opposite him was occupied, though not by Sebastian Verlac. Instead, a beautiful and somewhat familiar girl sat before him. Normally, he would not have recognized her, much less remembered her name, as all Shadowhunters had all begun to look the same to him. However, this girl's bright red hair was just like her brother's white-blond hair—unmistakable. Unlike the first time they had met, though, the girl's eyes were not the same soft green they had once been. Instead, they were now a more muted, silver-toned green, with a cold, wicked gleam shining in them. "Clarissa Morgenstern," the faerie knight said. "What an unpleasant surprise."

"Now, don't be rude, Meliorn," Clary replied coolly. "Aren't you expecting someone?"

"Yes, I'm expecting someone. Though no one you'd have any interest in, I'm sure, Shadowhunter."

"But why wouldn't I have any interest in my own brother? That is who you're meeting, isn't it? And don't bother lying. I already know I'm right." Clary leaned in close to Meliorn over the table. "Between you and me, I think I'm a better sight for sore eyes. I inherited all beauty in the family."

"I have nothing to say to you. However, your brother. . ."

"My brother, it seems, is indisposed. I, on the other hand, have several matters to discuss with you."

Isabelle had followed Clary all the way across town to a small, hole-in-the-wall café. Making sure not to be seen, she had taken cover behind a brick wall across the street, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever Clary's mystery meeting was with. She'd watched as Clary had sat down at one of the outdoor tables, a calmly intimidating air about her as she started talking to the person opposite her. Unfortunately for Izzy, the other person's face was obscured by a rather large and gaudy flower arrangement hanging from an awning overhead.

Clary laughed and turned her head in Isabelle's direction and Isabelle ducked quickly behind the corner, hoping that Clary hadn't caught sight of her. When she thought it was safe to look back, Isabelle peeked around the corner and was surprised to see Clary standing up to leave already and, with her, the other person at the table stood as well.

And Isabelle froze. Meliorn, she thought to herself, recognizing the face instantly. The faerie knight that she had once dated who also happened to be the right hand man of the Seelie Queen and the faeries' council representative in the Clave. But what was Clary doing with him? Determining that the ideas her mind was coming up with had to be worse than the truth, she decided to go straight to the source to ask the question. Crossing the street quickly, Isabelle waited outside the door of the café in a place where Clary wouldn't be able to see her until she had passed her. After only a few seconds, Clary exited the building, a to-go coffee cup in her hand. As she started toward the street, though, Isabelle called out her name and caught her attention. "Clary?"

Clary snapped her head up and spun around the look at Isabelle. "Izzy?" she asked incredulously. "What the Hell—?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Clary looked around anxiously, as if she were afraid they were being watched, before grabbing Isabelle's arm and pulling her off toward the alleyway beside the coffee shop. "Come on," she said, leading Isabelle rather forcefully. "We can talk over here."

Once they had come to a stop and were clearly out of earshot of any spying mundanes—or other creatures—Isabelle began the Lightwood Inquisition on Clary. "What the Hell were you thinking, Clary? Going off to talk to a member of the Seelie Court alone? Why didn't you think you could trust anyone with this, especially me. I know Meliorn, I could have helped you—"

"I didn't want any help. I didn't need it. I thought. . . I thought he might know where Jonathan was."

"Why would you think—"

"Because we knew the Seelie Court was involved with him. I figured maybe Meliorn might tell me."

"How did you even get in contact with him?"

"I didn't. I heard my brother talking about the meeting on the phone when he thought I was unconscious. I was just seeing who was here and what they knew."

"But why didn't you tell us, Clary? Why didn't you trust us with this?"

"Because it's my fight, not yours. He's my brother. I'm going to be the one that takes care of him."

"He's not your lone responsibility, Clary."

"Look, Iz, I'm sure you have a whole lecture planned out, but I'm not in the mood for it right now, alright. So let's just go back to the Institute, can we?"

"Clary—"

"Now!" Clary exclaimed, and Isabelle saw a dark fury flash in her eyes that she had never seen before. Clary's eyes, Isabelle thought to herself, were dark and scary and. . .

. . .And dead. Just like Magnus had said. What if he had been right? Could Clary really be one of Sebastian's dark Shadowhunters? The idea had Isabelle's head throbbing as she followed Clary's lead back in the direction of the subway. Before they got too far, though, the phone in Isabelle's pocket began to ring. When she stopped to answer it, she waved Clary on, saying that she would catch up as she brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Isabelle?" Alec's worried voice came through the phone. "Where have you been? You said you were going to go find Simon to talk to him and you never came back. I was getting worried."

"I'm fine, Alec," Isabelle said, albeit shakily.

"Iz," Alec began, his voice hiking up higher than normal. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Isabelle admitted. "I think. . . Alec, I'm not sure, but I think Magnus may have been on to something about Clary."