AN: I apologize now for any editing mistakes-spelling or grammatical. I was up late finishing this because I wasn't sure when I would have gotten the chance to get back to it. I think my eyes started crossing a couple times, lol. But I'm going to be really busy over the next couple weeks and wanted to get this out to you. Anyway, as always, a HUGE thank you to all my readers. I hope you like it! Please, let me know what you think.

~Chapter Thirteen~

Doughnuts and Runes.

Because why not?

A curve here. A line there. It hurt. To say otherwise would be a lie. There was no gentleness to what he was doing, nor was he trying. Jace looked down at the small Mark on the inside of his forearm as it gleamed, the pain still pulsing from where his stele had sliced his skin. Within seconds it took effect, and he felt suddenly awake and full of energy. Shoving his stele back in his jacket pocket, he stared out over the river. The sun was starting to come up, so the shadow of his father's ship was getting harder to see. But he knew it was there. Knew where he could be found now. Jace dropped his head in his hands. He was sitting in a shaded cove on the bank of the East River, having hidden the demon motorcycle under a tree. Chances were that the sun would eventually hit it—which would be a waste, but there was nothing else to cover it up with. He had been sitting here since leaving Valentine. Behind him, Luke's house sat quiet—while in front of him, his father was building an army. An army like none the Clave have ever seen. And he was stuck in the middle. He knew he should tell everyone what had happened. Knew that he should go to the Clave immediately. But then what? If nothing else, his father had been right about one thing—they did not trust the son of Valentine. So why should he help them? It would be just as easy to sit back and watch. Jace sighed, knowing that was not an option. Reaching into one of his hidden inside pockets, he pulled out the broken Portal and turned it in his hands. It was raining in Idris right now, and he watched as each drop magnified what he could see of the rolling meadows and emerald leaves, making them sparkle. It was beautiful and sad. This was what it was like when Clary cried—

Jace clasped his hand spasmodically around the Portal, barely registering the pain of the razor sharp edge cutting into his palm or the blood that was now dripping from it. Why do you have to ruin everything? Her words had been echoing in his head ever since she said them before shoving past him to chase after the leech. He had told his father that Clary was not happy with him, but that had been an understatement. She said she didn't hate him, but she didn't seem to exactly like him much either. And he wasn't trying to ruin everything. He just wanted—Jace sighed. It didn't matter what he wanted. He poisoned everything he touched. His father said so. Had he poisoned Clary? And if so, would she really stand with him as his father believed? Valentine had said they both knew it was true, but Jace wasn't sure what he knew to be true anymore. He shook his head, not wanting to think about the answers to those questions. Tucking the Portal back in his pocket, he pulled his stele out once more and healed his palm, watching as the skin knitted together seamlessly. Looking back out over the river, the sun reflected on it's gentle current making it look like liquid gold in the dawn of the morning. It was peaceful. Serene. Everything it shouldn't be. He stared up at the sky, remembering what his father had showed him. Knowing what lurked just beyond the border. And then there was what lurked beneath the decks of his father's ship. Jace shuddered just remembering what it had showed him. Clary, dead—and him unable to do anything about it. Unable to save her.

If he stood against his father, how was he supposed to fight something that could floor him with his worst fear? Something that could make it a reality?

No.

He wouldn't let that happen. He would think of something.

Getting to his feet, he dusted himself off and headed back toward the house. He could feel his stomach twisting as he went. Clary was in there and he wasn't sure if she was still pissed at him. And then there was Magnus, who he was sure was just waiting to rip into him. The warlock, he wasn't worried about, but Clary . . . he just wanted to keep her safe. The morning was chilly, and he zipped up his jacket as he went. Looking up, he stopped—a slow smile forming on his lips as he saw Alec pacing the front porch. His parabatai had left last night after it seemed that Magnus was determined to give him the silent treatment. But whether it had really been the silent treatment, or just sheer exhaustion, Jace wasn't sure. The healing that the warlock had performed on Luke and the wolf girl had completely depleted his magic. This was also why he had been able to leave without Magnus knowing. He had made Jace promise to stay but, well, who was he kidding? Taking a breath, he continued forward and then leaned against the railing looking up at Alec, who had watched him emerge from the brush.

"How long have you been out here?" Alec asked, and Jace noticed that his brother looked nervous. Awkward almost. This frustrated him. Alec had been a lot of things toward him in the last seven years, but never this. And he had no clue how to fix it. He decided to pretend he didn't notice it instead.

"Awhile," he shrugged casually. "Took a walk—needed to think. What about you? When did you get back?"

"About ten minutes ago," Alec said, running a hand through his dark hair and not meeting Jace's eyes.

Jace frowned. "So what are you doing out here? Why not go in?"

Alec shifted uncomfortably before answering. "I did—everyone was still asleep. I didn't want to wake anyone up, and then I noticed you were missing, so I came out to see where you had gone. Magnus' magic must have been diminished then?" Though he tried to make his tone light when saying the warlocks name, Jace noticed the rigidness in which he said it. He wished his brother would just be honest, but after last night, he didn't want to push it. Instead, he just nodded, and Alec took a sharp breath. "If he finds out you used his momentary weakness to bail, he's going to be pissed."

"Probably," Jace grinned. "But I'm a criminal remember? It would be a travesty if, as a criminal, I didn't try for some kind of jail break when the opportunity presented itself, wouldn't it? And if that doesn't work, I can always say that it's just my rebellious teenage nature."

Alec eye'd him speculatively before saying softly, "Or we can go get doughnuts—Magnus likes doughnuts." He reddened at this as if admitting something forbidden, but then he continued with a forced shrug. "It might make him a little less likely to turn you into newt at least."

"A newt?" Jace echoed, a brow raising. "Why a newt? I can't be a newt! I am much to attractive for that."

Alec didn't answer as he loped down the steps past him. Shrugging, Jace followed. They walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, and for this, Jace was grateful. It was a few blocks before they came to a Dunkin' Donuts. Alec didn't seem thrilled, but said it would do. Apparently Magnus had a much more sophisticated taste when it came to doughnuts. Jace and Alec, on the other hand, didn't have the money for sophisticated pastries with holes in them, so he would get this or nothing. In the end, they decided to get an assorted dozen, because they weren't sure who else might want one and what they would like—though Jace did pick out a particularly delicious looking Boston Cream, wondering if Clary would like it. To both Jace's and Alec's annoyance, the girl behind the counter kept giggling each time they picked a different doughnut. At one point, Jace thought his parabatai was going to snap at her, but he didn't. Finally, with doughnut box in hand, they were on their way back. Alec walked slow, looking down at the box, before taking a breath.

"About Magnus . . ."

Jace looked at his brother in surprise. "Look, Alec, I really don't—"

"Don't say you don't care." Alec said quietly, almost painfully.

"But I—"

"There really is nothing—I mean—I . . ." Alec was gripping the box hard now, and Jace momentarily feared for the pastries within. "It's just, I don't know why you would think that there was something going on with me and Magnus."

Jace bit on the inside of his cheek, not knowing how to answer. He was afraid of hurting him or pissing him off—but he didn't know what it was that he had done to do that in the first place. And then it hit him. It was Magnus. Being gay was already frowned upon by the Clave—but to be gay and in a relationship with a Downworlder? That must be why he didn't want people knowing. Jace sighed, choosing his next words carefully. "Look, whether you're with Magnus or not—"

"But I'm not." Alec cut him off. Jace only looked at him and shook his head before continuing.

"Okay," he said. "But all I was trying to say last night is that regardless of relationships . . . I don't care if you're gay, Alec. I really don't. Shit, I wouldn't care if you were a pink turtle with a purple horn and bowel issues. I'd still stick you in a tank in my room and take care of you."

At this, Alec raised a brow with incredulity. "Why do I have bowel issues?"

Jace looked down at the box in his brother's hands and shrugged. "Have you seen what you're about to ingest?" At this Alec looked down at the white box as well, and Jace took a moment to really look at him. His jacket was unzipped and his dark hair was in his face like it usually always was. He was the same Alec he had always been. "You're my parabatai," Jace continued, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. "My brother. My best friend. My love is unconditional, okay? Just know that."

Alec said nothing, though Jace thought he looked like he wanted to. He wished he would say something. Instead, he avoided Jace's gaze and looked past him instead. "We should go in."

Jace turned to see the row houses up ahead, and Luke's book store sign. Sighing, he nodded. He had tried to fix whatever damage he had done with his brother. He hoped it worked. As they got closer, they could hear voices coming from inside. Alec and Jace looked at one another, and then down at the box once more. Here's hoping it worked. Grabbing the handle, Jace took a deep breath and then wiped his face of emotion. He could get through this. All he had to do was hide his heart, pretend not to be in love with his sister, feed the warlock a doughnut, and somehow save them all. Oh, and also somehow mention that his father is building an army with a fear demon and will probably win. Right. Piece of cake. Throwing the door open, he stepped in.

Everyone was awake now.

His eyes went traitorously to Clary immediately, who was looking at him with a frown, before he looked away quickly and swept the room lazily. Magnus was pulling a towel hastily off his head, looking livid, just as Alec walked through the door. Luke was still on the couch with a look of surprise, and the female wolf was next to Clary, crying. Hmm, frowning, angry, shocked, and crying— "Everyone in a good mood, I see," he observed mockingly. "Keeping up morale?"

"Crap," the wolf girl mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I hate crying in front of Shadowhunters."

Jace's eyes shot to her. He could see her now. She was pretty, he supposed—in a wolfish sort of way. But the problem was that his father wanted her dead. She was the whole reasons the demons had even been here. And now she was just one more he had to save—like he really needed another person he had to take care of. Suddenly he was irritated with the girl. "So go cry in another room," he said cooly. "We certainly don't need you sniveling in here while we're talking, do we?"

"Jace." It was Luke, and he looked angry. But Jace couldn't care less. Besides, the wolf girl was already running from the room like a ridiculous child.

"Talking?" Clary rounded on him now, and Jace felt his skin prickle. Luckily, he was able to keep his demeanor indifferent, despite the racing of his heart. "We weren't talking."

Moving through the room, Jace hooked the piano bench with his foot and pulled it out. "But we will be," he said, taking a seat so that he was facing everyone, and stretching out his legs. It felt good after the walk. But the longer he sat there, the more he started to think it wasn't the best idea after all. His Energy Rune was wearing thin and this bit of rest was nearly overpowering. He willed himself to ignore it, however, as he looked at the warlock, who was looking at Alec. "Magnus wants to shout at me, don't you, Magnus?"

Magnus turned to glare daggers at him. "Yes," he growled. And then he was on his feet and Jace saw the blue tracksuit with the white stripes he wore and had to bite back on a snicker. It was worse than his glass cape. Where was that, by the way, he wondered idly looking around. He would hate to step on it barefooted— "Where the hell were you?" Magnus nearly shouted, throwing his arms in the air and pulling him away from his thoughts. "I thought I was clear with you that you were to stay in the house."

Before Jace could answer, however, Clary sat down with a mug of coffee. "I thought he didn't have a choice," she said, taking a sip. "I thought he had to stay where you are. You know, because of magic."

"Normally, yes," Magnus snapped irritably. "But last night, after everything I did, my magic was—depleted."

"Depleted?" Clary's brows shot up as she looked from the warlock to Jace, who had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning defiantly.

"Yes." Magnus said, and Jace wondered absently if it was normal for warlocks to turn colors when they were pissed—because Magnus was becoming a nice shade of red. "Even the High Warlock of Brooklyn doesn't have inexhaustible resources. I'm only human. Well," he corrected, "half human, anyway."

Next to Clary, Luke was leaning forward with furrowed brows. "But you must have known your resources were depleted," he said gently. "Didn't you?" And Jace allowed smug satisfaction to paint his face. Oh, the warlock knew. That's why the alarms didn't ring and the spotlights didn't turn on when he left. There were no bolt cutters needed this time. But looking at Magnus, he saw that he was not nearly as amused.

"Yes," the warlock said angrily, rounding on Jace. "And I made the little bastard swear to stay in the house. Now I know what your much-vaunted Shadowhunter vows are worth."

Jace only shrugged, still unfazed. They wouldn't be giving him shit once they all learned the truth. Or maybe they would. Who knew. Either way, one thing was certain— "You need to know how to make me swear properly," he said, looking around with a bored expression. "Only an oath on the Angel has any meaning."

"It's true," Alec said suddenly, and everyone looked at him. Everyone but Jace, anyway. Instead, he was eyeing the nearby end table where a full cup of coffee sat. He could smell it from here, the rich aroma enticing him. He supposed it might have been the wolf girl's, since she had been sitting there only moments before she stalked from the room to cry.

"Of course it's true." He said in response to Alec as he reached forward and picked up the mug. Bringing it to his lips, he let the smell fill his senses before taking a sip and—good feeling gone. His face twisted with disgust as he set the cup back down. Looking up, he saw Clary watching him. "Sugar," he explained, and thought for the briefest moments that he had seen the corners of her mouth tick upward. It sent his heart racing.

"Where were you all night, anyway?" Magnus cut in, and Jace tore his eyes away from her to look at the warlock. "With Alec?"

Jace considered this for a moment. Would it matter if he were with Alec? He was his parabatai, so it wouldn't be that strange a notion. Rubbing at his temples, he decided to let it go and to instead decide how best to answer. He wasn't ready to tell them all just yet. He realized he wanted to tell Clary first. She was his sister after all—his heart lurched—and probably the only one who fully trusted him. Angry with him or not, she would be able to tell him how best to inform everyone else. In the end, he went with what he had told Alec. "I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," he shrugged as if that were the only possible and logical answer. "When I got back, I bumped into this sad bastard mooning around on the porch," he finished, gesturing at Alec. He was still standing there holding the box, and looked slightly affronted at having been called out. Magnus, on the other hand, looked rather pleased by this, and he turned to face him.

"Where you there all night?" His tone was a mixture of hope and concern.

Jace thought that if Alec were smart, he would say yes. Girls liked it when you pined for them. And then he cast a covert glance at Clary. Well, most girls, anyway. And while Magnus wasn't necessarily a girl . . . "No," Alec said shortly. Missed your chance there buddy, Jace thought with a shake of his head. "I went home and then came back," he continued. "I'm wearing different clothes, aren't I? Look."

Jace had to bite back on the laugh as everyone looked at what he was wearing with incredulity, because it looked just like what he had been wearing yesterday—a jacket, a dark grey sweater, and jeans. But in all reality, tomorrow, he would be wearing another dark grey sweater and jeans, too. It was what he was most comfortable in. He saw Clary shake her head, her ruby curls bouncing. "What's in the box?" she asked.

"Oh. Ah." Alec's eyes went wide at the question, and Jace smirked. Had he forgotten? It had been his idea. But Alec was already opening the box. "Doughnuts, actually." Moving forward, he set it in the coffee table. "Does anyone want one?" And Jace saw him look pointedly at Magnus, who grinned. Getting up, Jace plucked an apple fritter and a glaze from the box, and then watched with delight as Clary picked up the Boston cream—you're welcome—and handed it to Luke—oh . . . well, that backfired. She returned to the box, choosing a smaller old fashion chocolate. Sitting back on the piano bench, Jace made short work of his own doughnuts while Alec came to stand behind him, leaning against the piano as he ate. It was some time before any of them spoke.

"There's one thing I don't get." It was Luke, who was now kicking off his blankets. He looked a lot better than he had last night.

Jace licked the glaze lightly off his thumb. "Just one thing?" he asked with a raised brow. "You're way ahead of the rest of us."

Luke ignored this. "The two of you went out after me when I didn't come back to the house," he said looking from Clary to Jace, and back again.

Clary sighed. "Three of us." Jace's stomach flipped with annoyance. Yes, let us not forget the bloodsucker and his magnificent pipe. "Simon came with us."

Luke closed his eyes for a moment, looking like someone had pinned him into the river and poisoned him. Oh wait, that did happen. "Fine," he said after his pained pause. "The three of you. There were two demons, but Clary says you killed neither of them. So what happened?"

Jace looked at Clary, who's Idris eyes were unapologetic. He hadn't told her that his Raum had gotten away, so she must have seen—but if that were true, then what else had she seen? He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping that she did not witness him torturing the demon. Slowly, he turned back to Luke. "I would have killed mine, but it ran off," he said with partial truth. "Otherwise—"

"But why would it do that?" Alec asked from behind him. "Two of them, three of you—maybe it felt out numbered?"

Magnus snorted. He was sitting across the room staring at Alec. "No offense to anyone involved, but the only one among you who seems formidable is Jace—" Yes I am! Formidable, attractive, amazing, the whole package. I'm also in love with my sister, a criminal, and the son of the most hated man in the world. Watch out ladies, I'm a catch. The warlock's cat-like eyes moved to him as if he heard his thoughts, and Jace smirked. Magnus crossed his arms and continued. "An untrained Shadowhunter and a scared vampire . . ."

"I think it may have been me," Clary said suddenly, and Jace raised his brow amused. She was purposely not looking at him now. "I think maybe I scared it off."

Magnus looked less than impressed. "Didn't I just say—"

"I don't mean I scared it off because I'm so terrifying—" You terrify me. "—I think it was because of this." At that, she raised her arm, and turned it. Jace bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at the strange Mark on her arm. It was stark against her milky flesh, and it was definitely a rune. But try as he might, he couldn't remember ever seeing one like that before in the Gray Book—though it must have come from there. One thing he did know, however, was that he didn't like it, and he wasn't sure why. After a moment, he looked down at his hands instead and rubbed at the naked spot on his finger where his ring used to sit. It was Luke who finally spoke.

"I've never seen a Mark like that before," he said, and Jace looked up to meet his gaze. "Has anyone?"

"No," Magnus said crisply. "But I don't like it." Jace looked at the warlock. So he wasn't the only one who had gotten a bad feeling from it then. This was somehow comforting to him.

"I'm not sure what it is," said Clary, looking at the Mark, "or what it means. But it doesn't come from the Gray Book."

That's not true. Jace's golden eyes flashed to hers. "All runes come from the Gray Book." he said sternly. With everything that was happening. With the armies and the Fear demons and the helplessness he constantly felt—he needed this one thing to be true. It was true. Clary couldn't just make up runes of her own free will.

But Clary was persistent. "Not this one," she said. "I saw it in a dream."

Is she fucking kidding? "In a dream?" He couldn't keep his anger from showing now as he glared at her. Was that really what she was going with? I saw you die in a dream, and yet that doesn't make it true—he bit the inside of his cheek. Don't think about that. It wasn't true—it hadn't happened. She was alive. That was the truth—just like all runes come from the Gray Book. It was that simple. "What are you playing at, Clary?"

"I'm not playing at anything," she retorted. "Don't you remember when we were in the Seelie Court—" Jace's brows nearly flew off his head, his stomach twisting painfully as his heart jackhammered. Had she really—did she just—do I fucking remember? How could I fucking forget? His expression must have showed what he was thinking, because Clary went on hastily. "—and the Seelie Queen told us we were experiments—" Oh yes, that part you believed. Not the part about wanting my kiss . . . no, But that we're freaks? Sure why not. "—That Valentine had done—had done things to us to make us different, special—" Nope, sorry. I asked. With the exception of great hair and an unholy love for my sister, I'm not special. "—She told me that mine was the gift of words that cannot be spoken—" Yeah, so is mine. Or more, words you won't allow me to speak. "—and yours was the Angel's own gift?"

Jace looked at her speculatively before saying, "That was faerie nonsense."

"Faeries don't lie, Jace," Clary snapped, throwing his own words back at him. "Words that cannot be spoken—she meant runes. Each has a different meaning, but they're meant to be drawn, not said aloud." Jace raised a dubious brow, but she ignored it. "Remember when you asked me how I'd gotten into your cell in the Silent City?" Jace said nothing. The only things that really stuck out about that night, were the things he wished to forget. "I told you I just used a regular Opening rune—"

"Was that all you did?" Alec cut her off with surprise, and Jace looked back at his parabatai. "I got there just after you did and it looked like someone had ripped that door of it's hinges."

Jace bit the inside of his cheek and looked back at Clary, who was nodding with appreciation. "And my rune didn't just unlock the door," she said. "It unlocked everything inside the cell, too. It broke Jace's manacles open." She stopped to take a breath, her emerald gaze meeting Jace's golden ones. He was rubbing at his wrists, remembering now how he had pulled on them. But he couldn't tear away from her gaze. Those eyes—home. More gently, she said, "I think the Queen meant I can draw runes that are more powerful than ordinary runes. And maybe even create new ones."

Jace shook his head, not wanting to believe. If it were true . . . if she could . . . and if Valentine found out? How was he supposed to protect her then? "No one can create new runes—"

"Maybe she can can, Jace." It was Alec, and Jace had to work hard not to snap at him to shut up. Though he should have. "It's true," Alec continued, "none of us have ever seen that Mark on her arm before."

Jace said nothing. This couldn't be. Didn't they understand that? Didn't they understand what it would mean? "Alec's right," Luke said softly, proving to Jace that they apparently had no clue at all. "Clary, why don't you go get your sketchbook?"

Jace was suddenly exhausted as Clary looked at Luke in surprise. He felt his shoulders slump forward, the weight of no sleep mixed with helplessness really beginning to press down upon him. It took but a minute for Clary to get over he shock and agree, before disappearing from the room. Jace dropped his head in his hands and a second later Alec was crouched next to him. "Why are you so against this?" He whispered low. Jace looked up and saw that Luke was talking to Magnus now, before turning to Alec.

"I don't know," he lied. "Maybe I'm just tired. Grumpy, sleep deprived, emotional teenager—that's me."

Alec raised his brow disbelievingly, and then shook his head with a smile. "Let me see your arm," he said, reaching into his pocket. Jace pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and saw the silvery thin scar of what had once been his Energy rune. That hadn't lasted long. Alec saw it too, but didn't comment on it as he put his stele to Jace's skin and began tracing over it with a new one. When he was done, he met his brother's eyes. "If what Clary says is true," he began slowly. "If she can do this—it could be a really good thing." With that, he got up and moved to stand back against the piano behind him again, but this time, he kept his hand on Jace's shoulder, lending him his own energy as well.

This could be a good thing. Alec's words bounced around his head. How—how could this be at all good? If Valentine finds out, the first thing he'll do is send his Greater Fear demon after her. And how could he possibly protect her from that? He couldn't. And that was worse than any fear he had. When Clary came back in the room, her eyes met his briefly before she sat down at the small dining room table. "All right, I got it," she said, setting the sketchpad and a box of colored pencils down. But all Jace heard was, you can't protect me. You will fail. He bit the inside of his cheek as Clary looked around at them all. "What do you want me to do?"

"What do you think?" Jace snapped unfairly. Though he felt awake now, he was still slumped forward and he was sure he looked nothing like his usual amazing self. The Mark and Alec were great . . . but no amount of runes would get rid of this trepidation. It was Luke who responded to his anger.

"Jace," he said with a warning in his tone. "That's enough." And then he turned gentle eyes on the girl he thought of as his daughter. "You said you could draw new runes, Clary?"

Clary tugged absentmindedly at one of her curls. "I said I thought so."

Luke nodded. "Well, I'd like you to try."

"Now?" She asked, her eyes flashing to Jace briefly, and sending a jolt through his body.

"Unless you've got something else in mind?" Luke smiled, seeing where Clary had been looking and making her blush. Smooth, Jace thought dryly. But Clary didn't respond. Instead, she flipped open her book to a blank page. Jace watched as her slender but expert fingers removed a pencil from the box, and noticed how her hand curled naturally around it—as if it had done this a thousand times before. It probably had. He swallowed as she stared down at the paper, her brow furrowing. He wore no emotion as he watched her. He gave nothing away. How could he? How could he tell her that this terrified him? That Alec was wrong; this wasn't going to be a good thing. His face was a blank slate. After a few minutes, she threw the pencil down.

"I can't just do it on command like that," she said with frustration. "Not without an idea."

Jace took a breath, but it was Luke who answered. "What kind of idea?"

"I mean, I don't even know what runes already exist. I need to know a meaning, a word, before I can draw a rune for it."

Jace closed his eyes. A meaning . . . a word . . . the Gray Book was full of runes, and she was worried about recreating one already in existence? There were hundreds—thousands. They ranged from temporary to permanent. Balance, Stamina, Luck, Stealth, Opening, Clairvoyance, Healing, Soundless, Precision, Agility, Speed, Bravery, Jace ticked off silently. And not a single one of them will help against a Greater Fear Demon, and neither will any of the others, so what's the fucking point? And then it hit him like a freight train. Could it be done? Could she do it? He almost didn't want to ask, but . . . if she could do this—if she could create . . . and if it worked? He opened his eyes to look at Clary. Somewhere, Alec was talking but he only saw Clary. "How about . . . Fearless?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but Clary immediately met his eyes.

"Fearless?" She echoed, looking at him. But Jace kept his face just as blank before. He didn't want her seeing how much he wanted her to be able to do this. Instead he shrugged as if he didn't care.

"There are runes for bravery," he said. "But never anything to take away fear. But if you, as you say, can create new runes . . ." His voice died out as he looked up to catch the shocked expressions of Luke and Alec, and then he switched tracks. "Look," he said, stretching out his legs and yawning as if bored with this whole situation. "I just remembered that there isn't one, that's all. And it seems harmless enough." He met Luke's eyes with a flat indifference then. Clary also looked at Luke, and after a moment, the man-wolf shrugged.

"Fine," he said.

Nothing else was said as Clary picked her pencil back up and pressed the lead agains the paper. Jace watched, his skin prickling and his heart racing. If she could do this—if it worked—then there just might be a way to protect her after all. To protect everyone. If he were fearless, there would be no fears to feed on. He could kill the demon then. Jace bit the inside of his cheek just as Clary's pencil begin to move. Under her breath, she was whispering, but he couldn't make it out. Instead, he glanced up at Luke and then Alec, both of who were engrossed with what Clary was doing. Only Magnus seemed to be watching him instead. He wore a look on his face that Jace couldn't quite figure out. He didn't want to figure it out either. Tearing his eyes away from the warlock, he watched Clary once more. She was sitting back now, looking down at the paper. With one fluid movement, she ripped it free from the sketchbook and held it up for everyone to see. The lines were complex and smooth and beautiful and Jace's eyes widened just looking at it. It was definitely a rune, but just like the one that had seen on her arm, he had never seen this one before now either.

"There," said Clary, looking at the picture again.

"Cool," Alec said at the same moment that Jace was on his feet and moving across the room. He could feel the hope and excitement bubbling in his stomach, regardless of how hard he tried to keep himself from getting his hopes up. Sure it was a rune . . . he'd give her that much. Reaching forward, he took the paper out her hand, his fingers grazing hers lightly as he did so. He bit his cheek and ignored the sensation that one touch caused in him as he looked at the drawing—his shield. The only thing that might be able to save them all. And it was all contingent on it being real—on it doing what it was supposed to do.

"But does it work?" He asked, looking back at Clary.

"What do you mean?" Clary asked, looking affronted, though he wasn't sure how the question had offended her. Jace shrugged, deciding it didn't matter. She could be as affronted or offended or anything else she wants to be toward him, as long as she was safe. But he had to be careful with how he answered, just like he had to be careful when suggesting it.

"I mean, how do we know it works?" Jace asked casually, like this was the most logical question to be asking now. And really, wasn't it? He looked at Luke, Magnus, and Alec, all of who were looking back at him confused. Really? "Right now it's just a drawing," he explained. "You can't take fear away from a piece of paper, if doesn't have any to begin with. We have to try it out on one of us before we can be sure it's a real rune."

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea," Luke frowned. And Jace heard him, he did—but he was wrong.

"It's a fabulous idea." Dropping the paper on the table, he unzipped his jacket, removed his stele, and begin sliding it off his arms. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect. "I've got a stele we can use. Who want's to do me?"

"A regrettable choice of words," Magnus retorted, but Jace didn't bother to reply. He was too excited about the possibility that this would work. This could be a good thing, Alec was right. He looked around, expectantly. Here he was . . . jacket down and everything, and no one was jumping? He looked at Clary, who was watching him with those emerald eyes of hers. Would she Mark him? Taking a step toward her, he held out his stele. Her Idris eyes went wide, but she didn't back away.

"No." It was Luke. Of course, Jace thought irritably, before turning to look at the man-wolf with a blank face. Luke sighed. "Jace, you already behave as if you've never heard the word 'fear.' I fail to see how we're going to be able to tell the difference if it does work on you."

From behind him, Alec laughed. But Jace was far from amused. Luke couldn't know how wrong he was. All the same, he forced a tight-lipped smile across his face. "I've heard of the word 'fear.'" And I have felt fear like none you have ever endured. He looked involuntarily at Clary, before shrugging casually, his tone lighter. "I simply choose to believe it doesn't apply to me."

"Exactly the problem," said Luke as if his point was proved. Jace didn't think it was, but before he could argue, Clary was moving forward.

"Well," Clary said speculatively as she stepped toward Luke. "Why don't I try it on you, then?" But Luke was shaking his head before she had even finished.

"You can't Mark Downworlders, Clary," Luke explained. "Not with any real effect. The demon disease that causes lycanthropy prevents the Marks from taking effect."

Clary looked around. "Then . . ." Exactly, Jace agreed silently. He was the only one willing it seemed and yet, Luke didn't want him to try it—not that that would stop him. So now what?

"Try it on me." Alec said suddenly, stepping forward. Everyone looked a thin surprised, but he paid no attention. "I could do with some fearlessness." Taking off his jacket, he tossed it on the piano bench and then crossed the room until he stood between Jace and Clary. "Here. Mark my arm," he told him, and Jace bit the inside of his cheek and then leaned just slightly so that he could see Clary.

"Unless you think you should do it?" He said. It was her rune—maybe it would only work with her doing it. But Clary shook her head. "No," she said taking a step back. "You're probably better at actually applying Marks than I am."

Jace shrugged and righted himself so that he was looking at Alec again. "Roll up your sleeve, Alec." His parabatai didn't hesitate, rolling it up till he showed the permanent rune that graced him with perfect balance on his upper arm. It was the same place Jace had his. Lowering the stele to just under it, he took one last glance a the picture—memorizing it—before he began to slice it through Alec's skin. His parabatai hissed a couple times, but never flinched. He could feel the eyes of everyone on him as he worked, but he focused only on what he was doing. As he finished the last curve, he stepped back and studied the gleaming black Mark before shoving the stele back in his pocket. "Well, it looks nice at least," he said impassively. "Whether it works or not . . ."

Alec stared down the Mark on his skin and then pressed his fingers to it. "So?" Clary asked when he still hadn't said anything.

"So what?" Alec asked, rolling his sleeve back down, and Jace sighed irritably.

Clary sighed too. "So, how do you feel? Any different?"

Alec stopped and thought about this before shrugging. "Not really."

Shit! Try as hard as he might not to, Jace had gotten his hopes up. And now . . . nothing. Frustrated he threw his hands up. "So it doesn't work." What the hell am I going to do now? He could feel the anxiety sinking in, his heart racing as he looked at Clary. It took everything he had not to show the desperation he was feeling—to keep his face blank and disinterested. He had to think of something!

"Not necessarily," Luke said, pulling Jace away from his thoughts and getting to his feet. "There might simply be nothing going on that might activate it." Jace tried to take a breath—Luke was right. Of course he was right. They just needed to scare the shit out of Alec. He was feeling better, now. This could still work.

"Boo." Magnus said suddenly, nearly causing Jace to choke. Timing was everything. Turning to Alec, and unable to hide his grin, Jace raised a brow waiting. Nothing? No? Guess his parabatai wasn't afraid of the warlock then. And then he realized that he had no clue what his brother was afraid of.

"Come on," Jace pressed. "Surely you've got a phobia or two. What scares you?"

Alec considered this for a moment. "Spiders," he said after a short pause. Really? Jace thought, raising his brow. Spiders? And now he really had to keep from laughing. Alec fought demons on a regular basis, and yet it was eight legged insects that sent him cowering? Before he could make fun of Alec mercilessly however, Clary was turning to Luke.

"Have you got a spider anywhere?" She asked, and Luke looked at her incredulously.

"Why would I have a spider?" He asked. He very nearly sounded affronted, Jace thought. "So I look like someone who would collect them?"

Jace took a step forward. "No offense, but you kind of do." Luke raised a brow at him, and he shrugged. He was just trying to be helpful. Behind him, Alec sighed.

"You know—" his parabatai said with irritation. "—maybe this was a stupid experiment."

But Clary was determined to prove it wasn't, it seemed. "What about the dark?" she asked, rounding on him. "We could lock you in the basement."

Alec looked at her as if that were the stupidest idea suggested thus far . . . and this had been after he had suggested spiders. "I'm a demon hunter," he said, his voice tight like he was fighting to keep his patience. "Clearly, I am not afraid of the dark." But Jace wasn't sure this was true. The Shadowhunter part, sure . . . the whole 'afraid of the dark' business was debatable, however. If there was a creepy crawly in that basement—one with eight legs maybe? Clary seemed to be along the same line of thought as he was, because she persisted.

"Well, you might be." She tried to keep her tone logical.

Alec was unmoved. "But I'm not," he said flatly.

Running his fingers through his hair, Jace cast a glance at Magnus who had not said much before his perfectly timed 'boo' and had yet to say anything afterwards. The warlock was watching Alec in silence, but with a thoughtful look on his face. Maybe he could summon a spider. He was just getting to ready to suggest that when a buzzer sounded. Alec caught his eyes, but said nothing. Clary, seeming startled by the sudden doorbell, turned to Luke. "Simon?" And Jace bit the inside of his cheek. Of course that's who she would hope it was, he thought darkly. But he was spared from replying by Luke—not that she had asked him. It was just that he had about thirteen different retorts and none of them would do him any favors. Luke shook his head.

"Couldn't be," he said. "It's daylight."

"Oh, right," she said, and Jace saw her cheeks flush as she cast her eyes sadly to the floor. But she was quick to recover herself. "Do you want me to get it?"

"No." Luke said pushing himself up off the couch. Jace was torn between staying where he was and going to help—especially when he saw him wince and then grunt in pain. But before he could decide, Luke was on his feet. "I'm fine." He looked at him when he said that, and Jace nodded. "It's probably someone wondering why the bookstore's shut."

Jace watched the man wolf cross to the door, and open it slowly. And then everything went to shit. Fuck! He saw Luke go ramrod straight at the same exact moment that he heard her—that hateful voice. He felt rage and nervousness and irritation. He kept his face blank though. He hated this woman, and he would not give her the satisfaction of bringing out any emotion in him. And then he heard the other voices at the same time that Luke stepped back. Isabelle and Maryse were the first to enter, followed by the Inquisitor, and lastly Robert—who must have returned from Alicante only recently, otherwise Alec would have told him sooner of his father's arrival. Jace cast a lazy eye, though he felt anything but, at Clary. She looked both curious and nervous. And she took a step forward, placing herself between him and the new arrivals. He wondered if this was something she did knowingly or instead as an absentminded gesture. Magnus looked nervous as well, but he was quick to hide it when he looked at Jace.

Alec, however, looked incredibly relaxed—like he had finally learned how to hide his emotions. But this was Alec—his brother—the guy who wore his heart on his sleeve. Jace watched him with a lifted brow as he looked from Isabelle, to Maryse, to Robert. And then Alec's eyes landed on Magnus. His eyes narrowed before he stepped forward, placing himself int he center of the room. What the hell was he doing? Jace looked at Clary. She was watching with just as much confusion as everyone else. It was Maryse who finally spoke, her eyes wide with surprise. "Alec, what on earth are you doing here? I thought I made it clear that—"

"Mother," Alec nodded, cutting her off. His voice was polite but firm. Jace's brow furrowed, unable to deny his curiosity. "Father," Alec continued, turning to greet Robert. "There's something I have to tell you," he grinned. Jace would love to say that it was the grin of a mad man. That his brother had completely lost it. He must have to be acting like this, because this was not him. But his tone was simple. Casual even. He looked completely clearheaded as he turned back to his mother. "I'm seeing someone."

Oh, snap. Jace felt the corner of his lips tick upwards, his eyes widening as his gaze moved to Magnus. The warlock looked exasperated and dumbfounded. But it was nothing compared to the surprise Robert displayed. "Alec," he said. "This is hardly the time."

But Jace disagreed. This was great. This was absolutely fucking perfect! Especially since he knew what it meant . . . the Fearless rune worked! He could cheer! He wondered what everyone would do if he actually did cheer—if he skipped forward and told Alec to, 'preach it, brother!' The Inquisitor would probably slap him—that's what. Though it might be worth it. He decided to say nothing, but he couldn't keep the amused smile off his face as he watched Alec look at his father like he didn't understand. "Yes, it is." his parabatai insisted to Magnus' and Isabelle's amazement. Preach it brother! "This is important." Alec then looked at his mother. "You see, I'm not just seeing anyone—I'm seeing a Downworlder. In fact, I'm seeing a war—"

And then he was on the floor.

Jace looked at Magnus who was lowering his finger, and he shook his head. It was just getting good. But he also understood why the warlock did it, so he said nothing. Biting the inside of his cheek, he instead watched as Maryse cried out and ran toward her oldest child, but Isabelle beat her to him. On the floor, Alec was already starting to stir. Looking up, he met each of their eyes with confusion as he rubbed the back of his head. Jace had to fight to keep from giving his brother an enthusiast two thumbs up. Alec blinked. "Wha—what—why am I on the floor?"

"That's a good question," Isabelle snapped, her hands on her hips as she glowered at her brother. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Alec asked confused, pushing himself up and holding his head as he went. And then his eyes widened with distress. "Wait—" he turned to look at Jace. "Did I say anything? Before I passed out, I mean."

Jace snorted, still unable to hide his amusement. "You know how we were wondering if the thing Clary did would work or not?" Alec blanched and Jace continued. "It works all right."

"What did I say?" Alec demanded, terror painting his face at the very idea. But it was Robert who answered.

"You said you were seeing someone," he said annoyed, looking down at his son. "Though you weren't clear as to why that was important."

"It's not," Alec said hastily, getting to his feet. "I mean, I'm not seeing anyone. And it's not important. Or it wouldn't be if I was seeing someone, which I'm not." Jace rolled his eyes at this but it was nothing compared to the glare Magnus was giving him. In this moment, it was very clear that the warlock thought Alec was a complete and utter moron. And Jace might just have to agree if his brother didn't shut up. Alec opened his mouth again but whatever pearl of wisdom he intended to say this time was cut off by Magnus.

"Alec's been delirious," he offered in way of explanation. "Side effect of some demon toxins. Most unfortunate—" he threw a sharp glance at Alec. "—but he'll be fine soon." If this was supposed to have comforted Alec's parents, it didn't. Maryse's lips became thin as she glared at the warlock.

"Demon toxins?" She cried out piercingly, her angry eyes flickering to each person in the room before she rounded on Luke. "No one reported a demon attack to the Institute. What is going on here, Lucian? This is your house, isn't it? You know perfectly well if there's been a demon attack you're supposed to report it—"

"Luke was attacked too. He's been unconscious." Clary said irritably, and Jace's eyes sliced to her. Careful, he thought, all amusement gone now. The last thing he wanted was her drawing attention to herself. Especially in the presence of—

"How convenient." Shit. It was the Inquisitor. "Everyone's either unconscious or apparently delirious," she said, moving forward. Her narrow eyes resting spitefully on Clary, and Jace wanted to suddenly wrap his arms around her to protect her from the hateful woman. He bit the inside of his cheek instead. And then she turned to Luke. Jace could see the rigidness of his body and the hardness in his eyes "Downworlder," the Inquisitor said the word like it was something disgusting, and Luke's jaw locked. "You know perfectly well that Jonathan Morgenstern should not be in your house. He should have been locked up in the warlock's care."

"I have a name, you know." Magnus cut in irritably, and the Inquisitor turned her head slowly to look at him. "Not," he amended. seeing her scowl, "that that matters, really. In fact, forget all about it." He took a seat and pretended to check his nails for defects. Jace rolled his eyes.

But the Inquisitor was not going to forget, now that the warlock had captured her attention. The poor bastard. "I know your name, Magnus Bane." Her tone was like a poisoned rose. And now the she turned toward him fully. Jace couldn't see her face, but he could imagine her hateful glare all too well. "You've failed in your duty once, you wont get another chance."

Magnus looked more affronted than anything else, however. "Failed in my duty?" Just by bringing the boy here?" He narrowed his cat-like eyes. "There was nothing in the contract I signed that said I couldn't bring him with me at my own discretion."

"That wasn't your failure," the Inquisitor snapped. "Letting him see his father last night, that was your failure."

Jace bit the inside of his cheek, his face giving away nothing as every set of eyes in the room found him. How did she know. How—how the fuck could she possibly know? She's bluffing. She had to be. But—she wasn't. Shit! From his peripheral, he could see both Alec and Clary trying to catch his eyes. He looked at neither of them. It was Luke who finally broke the silence. "That's ridiculous," he said, stepping forward. "Jace doesn't even know where Valentine is. Stop hounding him." At this, Jace felt a twinge of guilt. Luke's insistence to trust him when he knew it was unfounded was like a boulder on his chest. But still he said nothing. Still he gave nothing away.

"Hounding is what I do, Downworlder," the Inquisitor said, turning on Luke with a sickly sweet smile that twisted her features. She should stick to frowning. "It's my job," she continued, facing Jace now. He could see the hatred in her eyes—see just how much she was enjoying this on some weird level. "Tell the truth now, boy, and it will be all the much easier."

Jace bit the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms over his chest tightly. Nope. He didn't think he would be doing that. He didn't know how she knew about his midnight trip, but unless she produced proof—he wasn't saying shit. Cocking his head, he raised a brow defiantly. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"If you're innocent, why not exonerate yourself?" The Inquisitor asked. But Jace knew better than to answer. To play into this goading. She wasn't going to believe anything he said, so it didn't matter. "Tell us where you really were last night," she continued, her piercing eyes never leaving his. "Tell us about Valentine's little pleasure boat."

Jace swallowed, bit the inside of his cheek, and then swallowed again. But still he kept his face void of expression. She knew. She knew about his father's ship. So what else did she know? How had she found out? Did his father contact her? Is that what happened? It must be, because for the life of him, he couldn't think of any other possibility. Was Valentine really that upset about his son not joining him, that he turned him over to the Clave—to this sadistic excuse of a woman? But even as he thought it, he wondered if his father would stoop that low. He knew the answer immediately. Yes. He would. He knew now that it had been a little too easy to leave. The silence was pressing on him, but he ignored it. After a while, Robert cleared his throat.

"Imogen?" he said softly. "You're saying Valentine is—was—"

"On a boat in the middle of the East River," she finished for him. "That's correct."

"That's why I couldn't find him," Magnus said suddenly, though Jace had a feeling this had been meant more for himself. Looking up, he tried to meet Jace's golden eyes with his yellow cat-like ones. "All that water—it disrupted my spell." Jace did nothing to acknowledge this. He only just stared at no one and nothing in particular.

"What's Valentine doing in the middle of the river?" Luke asked perplexed.

"Ask Jonathan," the Inquisitor suggested. "He borrowed a motorcycle from the head of the city's vampire clan and flew it to the boat. Isn't that right, Jonathan?" He was going to break Raphael's undead little neck. But—he hadn't told the vampire where he was going. This wasn't adding up—it wasn't making sense. And he refused to answer still. Next to him, he could still feel Clary's gaze on him though he tried like hell to ignore it. Her's hurt the worse. He knew she was trying to make just as much sense of it—but she would be way off. How could he possibly explain that—

"Reach into the pocket of your jacket." The Inquisitor snapped suddenly, pulling Jace away from his thoughts. "Take out the object you've been carrying with you since you last left the Institute."

Jace could taste blood in his mouth now as he balled up his fists tightly. She knew what he carried? How could she possibly now about the Portal? There was nothing else she could possibly mean. He remembered how he had taken Clary back to the Institute that night just to get it—to show her that he still had it. His piece of home. Later, after they had dropped a newly undead Simon off at his house, he had asked Luke to take him back to the Institute so he could grab some more clothes. He had really just wanted to get the mirror. He could feel everyone's eyes on him now—hear their hitched breaths. Taking a steady breath, he reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out the shard of glass. Looking down at it, he saw that it had stopped raining in Idris, the sky a clear blue now. From what he could see of the meadows, they looked, if possible, even brighter green under the drops of water that had been left behind as it was reflected in the sun.

"Give it to me." And then the portal was gone as the Inquisitor ripped it roughly from his hand. He felt as the sharp glass cut into him, and he grimaced slightly. But if she was aware, she didn't show it. Jace said nothing as she turned and took a step away from him. It's just a broken Portal. Why would she want— "I knew you'd return to the Institute for this," she said with a grin that churned his stomach. "I knew your sentimentality wouldn't allow you to leave it behind." Jace's eyes followed the Portal. How did she even know he had it? And then his stomach dropped. She had searched his room. She had been in there touching his belongings. He felt disgusted and violated and—and—that had been in his underwear drawer, for crying out loud! It was getting harder and harder to keep his face blank the more his anger grew.

"What is it?" Robert asked confused, his eyes also following the mirror.

"A bit of a Portal in mirror form," the Inquisitor said with calm delight. "When the Portal was destroyed, the image of its last destination was preserved—in this case, the Wayland country house." And then she suddenly and violently chucked the Portal at the ground, where it shattered. Jace felt his sharp intake of breath as rage flooded him. That was all he allowed as he stood his ground. He didn't move. He didn't make to stop her. He only stared at the fine powdery dust that remained, his jaw locked. It had been all he had left of his home. Nothing else. Soon, the Inquisitor was in Jace's line of sight. At some point she had pulled on gloves, and she was now sifting through what was left of the mirror. Smiling, she stood back up with a thin piece of paper pinched between her fingers and held it up for everyone to see. "I marked this paper with a tracking rune and slipped it between the bit of mirror and it's backing. Then I replaced it in the boy's room." She met Jace's eyes. "Don't feel bad for not noticing it. Older heads and wiser than yours have been fooled by the Clave."

"You've been spying on me," Jace said, unable to control the fury in his tone like he had controlled it on his face. So that was how she had done it. That was—it was taking everything for him to keep from screaming. "Is that what the Clave does, invade the privacy of it's fellow Shadowhunters to—"

"Be careful what you say to me," the Inquisitor snapped, her smile from before gone. "You are not the only one who's broken the law." What the hell was she talking about. Who else—and then he watched, his stomach dropping heavily as her eyes gazed lazily around the room, stopping on those Jace loved. "In releasing you from the Silent City, in freeing you from the warlock's control, your friends have done the same."

Jace's mouth closed slowly. So that was her plan? Punish him by punishing them for doing nothing? God, he hated this woman. He hated everything she pretended to be. But it was Isabelle who responded. Flying forward, she whipped her hair back. "Jace isn't our friend," she said pointedly. "He's our brother." And Jace met Izzy's eyes, trying to put everything he felt into that one look. How much he loved her and Alec. How much her words meant to him. He hoped she understood.

Seeing this brief moment of camaraderie, the Inquisitor rounded on Izzy. "I'd be careful what you say, Isabella Lightwood. You could be considered complicit and get your marks stripped."

"Complicit?" Robert said, his tone tight and angry. This surprised Jace. In the seven years he had known the man in front of him, he had maybe only seen him upset a handful of times. He was usually much more the type to leave until he had cooled off. But now he was staring daggers at the Inquisitor. "The girl was just trying to keep you from shattering our family. For God's sake, Imogen, these are all just children—"

"Children," The Inquisitor breathed icily, and Jace got the distinct feeling that that had been the wrong thing to say. "Just as you were children when the Circle plotted the destruction of the Clave—" Yep, definitely the wrong thing to say. "—Just as my son was a child when he—" She cut herself off with a gasp. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Her son—he had been brought up before. Before he could think anymore on it, however, Luke sighed heavily.

"So this is about Stephen after all," his voice was colored with pity. ""Imogen—"

"This is not about Stephen!" the Inquisitor screeched, her face twisting. "This is about the Law!" Her chest was heaving as she glared at Luke, daring him to disagree. Daring him to say anything at all. He didn't. He only shook his head.

"And Jace?" Jace's eyes snapped to Maryse, who looked pale and terrified and angry. But she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at the Inquisitor. "What's going to happen to him?"

The Inquisitor took a second to compose herself, smoothing down the grey robe she wore. When she spoke, her tone was controlled once more. "He will return to Idris with me tomorrow," she said regally. "You've forfeited your right to know any more than that."

"How can you take him back to that place?" Clary demanded suddenly, and Jace's stomach dropped. Don't get involved, Clary—please, don't. But she had taken a step toward the Inquisitor now like she might attack her. He tried to get her catch her gaze now, but she wasn't looking at him. "When will he come back?"

"Clary," he pleaded then. "Don't." Don't fight for me. Don't get involved. Don't show her what you mean to me or what I might mean to you—she'll use that! That was one thing Jace knew for certain. If this horrible woman even remotely had an idea about—Jace cut off the thought. Clary cast her fiery emerald gaze at him, but then turned back toward the Inquisitor.

"Jace isn't the problem here!" She yelled angrily. Dammit! Why? Why couldn't she listen? "Valentine is the problem!"

"Leave it alone, Clary! For your own good, leave it alone!" Jace screamed at her then—and she flinched away from him, her eyes wide and terrified. That hit him like a blow to the stomach. He couldn't breathe. He had never yelled at her like that before and—and—he felt the blood draining from his face as he realized just exactly what he had done. He had scared her—in that moment, she had been scared of him. He would do anything to take it back. Anything. Her eyes met his, and he wanted so badly to apologize. Strangely, she looked like she wanted to comfort him. Clary, his beautiful confusing Clary. Nothing would make what he did right. And then Luke was there with his hand on her shoulder, and she tore her gaze away from his.

"If the boy went to his father," Luke began somberly, "knowing the kind of father Valentine was, it is because we failed him, not because he failed us." Jace met the man-wolf's eyes and he felt his chest tighten. This wasn't pity. He knew that. And he would never be able to thank him, though he had done so much for him.

The Inquisitor was less than impressed with him however. "Save your sophistry, Lucian," she snapped. "You've gone as soft as a mundane." But Luke only shrugged in that manner that one does when they know they're right and the other person is too stupid to see it.

"She's right." It was Alec . . . but surely Jace had heard him wrong. Had he just agreed with the psychotic bat? Snapping his head to look at his brother, he saw that he was sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed. He looked neither upset or nervous about having the rooms attention now. He met each eye steadily. "Jace lied to use. There's no excuse for that."

Jace felt his mouth pop open. Was he kidding? He stared hard at Alec. Tell me you're fucking kidding? After everything they had been through? After he had told him outside that he would love him no matter what—stand by him no matter what—Jace couldn't believe it. He was his parabatai! Did that mean nothing? He didn't speak. He didn't think he could. But he didn't need to. Isabelle, shocked and beside herself, was scowling at her brother. "Alec, how can you say that?"

Alec shrugged, though he didn't look at his sister. "The Law is the Law, Izzy. There's no way around that."

Isabelle's hand flew to her mouth as she cried out in shock and anger. For a moment, Jace thought she was going to attack Alec—he definitely would have let her—but instead, she turned on her heel and darted out of the door. It stayed open behind her, letting in the sunlight. It should be gloomier, Jace couldn't stop himself from thinking. Much, much gloomier. When Jace focused his attention back on his surroundings, he saw that Robert had had to keep Maryse from going after her daughter, while the Inquisitor was looking at Alec with approval. It made his stomach churn just seeing it. And then there was Magnus, who was now looking at Alec like he was both disappointed and angry. When he realized that Jace was watching him, however, he looked away quickly and did not look back at his brother again. Getting to his feet, the warlock shook his head.

"I do believe that's my cue to leave as well," he said making his way to the door. "I'd say it's been nice meeting you and all, but, in fact, it hasn't. It's been quite awkward, and frankly, the next time I see a single one of you will be far too soon." And then he too disappeared out the door, slamming it behind him and casting them all back in the gloom of Luke's house.

Much better, Jace thought sardonically. Out loud, he said, "Two down." His voice dripped with grim amusement as he looked around lightly. "Who's next?"

"That's enough from you," The Inquisitor snapped, taking a step toward him. "Give me your hands." Jace stared at her defiantly, contemplating refusing on the grounds that she was a complete and utter bitch. But then he saw Alec watching from his peripheral. Alec who had turned on him—who sided with this woman. They lived in a world where death was preferable to the loss of a parabatai, and now Jace wanted to be nowhere near him. Lifting his hands, he offered them without a fight. The Inquisitor smiled as she produced a stele from the inside of her robes, and then used it to burn runes into his wrist. She wasn't being gentle, they both knew it. Jace said nothing though, nor did he wince or cry out in pain. Not even when his wrists snapped together, one crossing over the other. Looking down, he saw the flamelike runes that bound him now. Clever, he thought before looking back up at the spiteful woman. Next to him, Clary gasped.

"What are you doing?" She demanded a little too passionately. Jace wanted to tell her to stop. To drop it. But after last time, after he had scared her, he couldn't bring himself to do it. "You'll hurt him—"

"I'm fine, little sister," he said, emphasizing the last word. He also didn't meet her gaze. He refused to give the Inquisitor more ammo than she already had. "The flames won't burn me unless I try to get my hands free."

"And as for you," The Inquisitor rounded on Clary, and Jace's stomach dropped. "You were lucky enough to be raised by Jocelyn and escape your father's taint." Now that was something Jace could agree with this woman on. Clary was good, and beautiful, and kind. She was everything he wasn't—everything Valentine wasn't. "Nevertheless," the Inquisitor continued. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Is that a threat?" Luke asked, and Jace saw a flash of the wolf in his eyes. But the Inquisitor was unfazed.

"The Clave does not make threats, Lucian Graymark," she grinned. "The Clave makes promise and keeps them." Her delighted attitude disgusted Jace. How could such a horrendous person, be put in a position of power like this? How did other people not see what a horrible person she was? When Luke continued to say nothing to this, the Inquisitor turned back to Jace. "Come Jonathan. Walk in front of me. If you make a single move to flee, I'll put a blade between your shoulders."

Jace looked at her steadily for a moment, and then at Luke. Slowly his eyes passed over everyone, lingering on Alec, who seemed bored. The only person he didn't look at was Clary. He couldn't look at her. Not like this. And he didn't want to think about when he would see her again, or how upset and miserable she looked from his peripheral as he turned toward the door. Right before he turned the handle, his eyes fell on the paper that sat on the table. The Fearless rune. That was his salvation. That was what he would use to save them all, regardless of how he had been treated by them. Even the wretched bitch behind him now. He just had to figure out how to get free first. He didn't doubt that she would kill him if he ran. She would. And she would probably do a little dance of his dead body afterwards. So for now, he would go with her—because he wasn't really being given a choice. But afterwards . . . he would figure out something. This could be a good thing.

He hoped.