Chapter 24 - The Serpent Among Them
Jace ran a hand through his hair. He didn't think he could've taken another second of it.
A few seconds after Clary had left the infirmary, Luke had gone into a certain shocked state and had gone almost hyperventilated. Magnus and Jocelyn had to almost drag Luke out to calm down. It was very stressful to see one of the most emotionally stable men Jace knew break down like that.
"Alec, Jace, tell me everything that happened in London." Maryse said sternly.
Jace leaned back in the chair he was sitting on, gesturing for Alec to start talking. He already had to retell the whole thing to a murderous warlock so it was only fair Alec now had a go.
Jace immediately zoned out the moment Alec started talking.
The urge to walk around and do something was too strong to ignore as Jace stood up and walked over to one of the towering bookshelves, randomly yanked a book out and flipped open to one of the pages.
Detailed and descriptive drawings filled the whole book, mainly pentagrams and funny looking wildflowers. He looked at the cover which was a velvet hardcover book with silver words scrawled across the front.
It was called Banned Pentagrams, Spells and Curses. Seemed interesting enough.
Jace made his way back over to Maryse and Alec, standing behind his adoptive mother as he read. She seemed to barely acknowledge Jace as she payed attention to her oldest son as he spoke, sounding almost mechanical as he retold what happened.
The marble desk was littered with official letters from the Clave and what seemed like stacks of books that weighed several tonnes, giving the anguished angels finally a reason to look as if the large marble table had really something on them that was breaking their backs.
Jace flipped open his own book and read - or rather slid over - the many said notorious and dangerous banned pentagrams and spells.
It turned out from the detailed explanations that most of these banned and dangerous pentagrams and spells were simply faulty, unfinished and unpredictable, some impossibly easy to manipulate into something really dangerous.
Only several Jace had come across of being really dangerous. He almost pitied the true dangers being stuck in a book with a bunch of other unpredictable and lousy excuses for dangerous.
As pathetic as it was, Jace found certain entries interesting and the rest just plain old amusing rubbish - the useless type that is so bad you can't help but laugh at it.
"Isn't that right, Jace?" Alec's voice was like background elevator music to Jace. It was there, you knew it, but you chose to ignore it. He only responded when he heard the melodic, angelic sound of his four lettered name.
"Hmm?"
"The name Evangelyn gave us. Martin Starkweather, wasn't it?" Alec said.
"Yes ..." Jace said, his eyes still cast downwards on the book he was reading. He wondered if he could match any of the pentagrams in the journals to the ones in these books.
"Martin Starkweather?" Maryse said. "There are still some living Starkweathers but I don't remember there ever being a Martin Starkweather."
"Well, whoever he is, he's long dead." Jace said, closing the fat book. He eyed the pentagrams scattered on Maryse's table. They spoke of something dark and bloodthirsty. Jace could see it in them.
"What are those?" Jace asked. Maryse turned back to look at him and he gestured towards the scattered scrolls and parchments and pentagram drawings.
Maryse's eyes darted frantically towards them and tried to casually gather them into a pile and hide them from Jace's and view.
"Nothing you need to worry yourself with, Jace," Maryse said, a slight warning in her tone.
If anything, that sentence only made Jace's curiosity blossom.
Maryse was probably going to kill him for what he was doing next but his feet were already moving forward. He snatched one of the official Clave letters and unfolded it, reading the cramped slanted handwriting.
"Jace!" Maryse scolded, shoving her chair and standing up. Jace moved away from the table, in hopes of not getting caught by a fuming Maryse Lightwood.
His eyes scanned the paper, trying to read the words as kept out of Maryse's reach:
Addressed to Maryse Lightwood. (For her eyes only)
From The Inquisitor Lightwood.
The Clave would appreciate if several Shadowhunters of the New York Institute could be sent to the following sites for investigation of the recent murders.
"Jace Herondale you give me that right now or I swear on the Angel!" Maryse threatened, leaving the sentence dangling. Jace took the stairs two at time, avoiding Maryse's attempts at sweeping the paper away from Jace. He continued reading, semi aware of a fuming Maryse.
We have narrowed our suspicions to these several places and hope that the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute will find something productive:
Pandemonium Club
The Hotel Dumort
Central Park
Madame Destine's Destiny Parlour
Magnus Bane's dwelling
We hope that you will be able to find something to help and immediately report any new findings to the Clave. Much appreciated.
Sincerely,
Inquisitor Lightwood
Jace's eyebrows scrunched up. What the bloody hell was this?
"Mom, what's this about recent murders?" Jace said, holding up the piece of paper. Alec had gotten up from his seat, his own expression confused.
"It's nothing," Maryse said, trying to snatch the paper away from Jace who stretched on his toes, holding the letter in the air.
With incredibly long strides, Alec joined his parabatai. Jace handed Alec the letter. He took it, looking slightly confused but read it anyways.
"Jace," Maryse hissed. Jace tried not to feel or show fear but when Maryse Lightwood was shooting you murderous glares, it was best wise to feel very scared or internal combustion due to fear overdrive could occur.
Jace saw Alec's eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunch together.
"What the hell is this?" Alec spat, waving the letter. The only color that would be appropriate for what color Alec's cheeks were at the moment was pink. Radiant pink.
"Alexander -"
"Oh, don't goddamn Alexander me, mom. What murders? And why is Magnus suspected?!" Alec fumed, looking scary. Jace - unconsciously - sidestepped away from his parabatai just a little.
"They're just murders, Alec. And they aren't suspecting Magnus. The Clave just found some evidence near his loft." Maryse said indignantly, finally managing in snatching the paper away from Alec.
Alec snorted. "Mom, are you listening to yourself? The Clave is built out of a bunch of narrow minded idiots - Dad probably being the biggest narrow minded prick of them all -" Alec cut off, seeing Maryse's look of anger and denial and silenced her with a glare. "Don't even deny it. You know it. That's how he is when he comes to these sort of things."
Jace looked at Alec whose face was flushed and blue eyes were sad.
Maryse and Robert's divorce took quite the toll on Isabelle and Alec and secretly, Jace suspected that Alec resented Robert for it. Isabelle had spent two days crying in her room while Alec had refused to talk to either of his parents for a week, muttering and cursing behind their backs to Jace who, as a good parabatai, had loyally and painstakingly listened to Alec as he ranted. Maryse had been allowed to keep the Lightwood name and everything was as if there was no divorce except that Robert and Maryse were no longer attached and committed to each other.
In a way, Alec currently only resented Robert for divorcing Maryse and being the Inquisitor. Robert and Alec had managed to get over the enormous homosexuality hurdle (though Jace sometimes noticed Robert looking uncomfortably and cringing at the mention of Alec and Magnus's relationship).
A few months after the Dark War and Robert being voted Inquisitor, Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had decided that Robert Lightwood did not make a brilliant Inquisitor. Robert was ruthless - worse than Imogen had been - and the punishments handed down were always harsh. Robert had always been a facts only man. He never followed whatever his gut told him. If it couldn't be proven, Robert wouldn't even look at the statement twice. Jace would bet his first child on the fact that if Robert was told Alec was responsible for the burning of the Institute and he was there coincidentally, Alec would probably find himself in a hearing the very next hour though Robert knew his son would never do that.
Maryse sighed, looking deflated. "If there is evidence, you can't possibly expect your father to ignore it, can you?"
"Hell, he's probably doing this to get Magnus in trouble so I won't see him anymore." Alec said, grinding his teeth together.
"That's not nice. Your father has given you and Magnus his blessing already and he knows how much Bane means to you. You'd never forgive him if he did." Maryse said, though there was an uncertainty in her tired blue eyes.
"Well, what murders?" Alec and Jace said.
"They started a little while back," Maryse said, looking like she was trying to remember when they started. "Actually, it was around the time … Jace went to London."
"Well, that's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it?" Alec said, his sarcasm barely noticeable.
"You think these are related?" Jace said, looking at the both of them. Alec shrugged while Maryse had a concentrated look on her face.
"This is going in too deep. I'm going to have to report this to the Clave sooner or later. At the moment, this situation isn't exactly breaking Clave law but soon, by the looks of it, it will and I'll have no choice but to report this."
"Are you serious? This isn't breaking any Covenant Laws?" Alec said incredulously.
Maryse looked slightly sheepish which was a first. "I found a loophole." she said simply.
"Who knew? Maryse Lightwood, complete law abiding Shadowhunter, hoodwinking the carefully constructed Covenant Laws?" Jace said.
"Hoodwinking?" Alec said, looking at Jace with an arched eyebrow. "Who says that?"
"Ah, that's deepest, inner pits of my British soul coming to life, my dear parabatai," Jace said, leaping over the side of the stairs railing, landing gracefully in a crouch.
"And what color might that be? The inner depths of your British soul? Gold?" Alec said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Mauve," Jace said, grinning. He strode over to the marble table, sifting through the letters and pentagrams.
"Jace, just because you read one doesn't mean you can read the rest." Maryse said, striding over to him and snatching one of the papers which had the drawing of a pentagram on it away from Jace.
"At the moment, I've got a much larger chance of finding the cause of these murders than you." Jace said, taking the paper back.
"Jace has a point," Alec said.
Maryse sighed. "I know."
Jace grinned. Alec continued telling Maryse everything and Jace rolled his eyes.
In his peripheral, he caught sight of the unmistakable Colette. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge lunge at her and punch her teeth in.
What the bloody goddamn hell did she think she was doing? Jace thought. He put the letter he was holding down and quietly excused himself before going after Colette, his hands clenched tightly.
Clary flipped the page of the journal she was reading, all the while a raging battle was going through her head. She ignored the annoying argument she was having with herself about Jace and Colette and concentrated on reading the journal she was holding.
She remembered the first few words Jace had said to her.
"Yet you can see the Shadow World. It's a conundrum...then again, you may not be a mundane at all. Like my Clary."
My Clary.
What did he mean? She doubted it was anything romantic. They were, sort of, brother and sister, what by sharing the same father. Then, he must have meant it in a brotherly way.
"Oh my God ..." Clary groaned in frustration, banging her head against her headboard. Pain shot through her head, making her cringe.
"Shit." she growled. She rubbed the back of her head, wincing.
"I can't take this anymore." Clary muttered, getting off her bed. The carpet tickled her bare feet but she didn't bother putting on shoes.
She slipped into her cardigan, the cold enveloping around her. Even through jeans clad feet she could feel the chill. She decided to go see Isabelle, to clear everything up. She now wondered why hadn't she done this in the first place.
Even though she had absolutely no idea where Isabelle's room was, her legs randomly carried her through halls and dimly lit corridors. Quietly, she crept down the short flight of stairs that seemed to be the only access to the third floor of the Institute.
Wandering around, she hoped that she got one of those feel-it moments when you knew that this was it or this was right or this fit the puzzle. So far, she had gotten nothing.
However, after a minute of wandering around, she heard the sound of glass breaking behind one of the doors. There was a soft, barely audible cry that made Clary wonder if she had really heard it. A thump of flesh hitting something solid followed the cry, making Clary feel panicky. There was the sound of a labored grunt following.
Clary heard Isabelle's unmistakable voice curse, telling her that this was Izzy's room.
Clary knocked, trying not to sound too persistent. There was a lot of rustling and the thunking of wood and plastic.
The door wrenched open, visibly with much force revealing a rather battered Isabelle. She peeked her head out from the door, not allowing Clary a full glimpse into her room. Clary only a small peek of pink and shards of broken glass that lay on the floor. Blood ran from a gash in Isabelle's forehead and a split in her lip. Her hair was completely disheveled, sticking out in every direction from her ponytail.
"Yeah?" she said, raising an eyebrow. She said it in a breathy tone, like she had fought her way to the door.
"I … Are you okay?" Clary said, staring as the blood trickled from the gash in her forehead.
"Yeah. Never better. Why?" she said, a bit too quickly, like she was trying to avoid the question.
"You have a cut in your head?" Clary said, staring at it. Isabelle lifted a hand and dabbled at the dark red blood. She looked at the blood that stained her fingertips in shock.
"Oh. I must have cut myself when I fell." Isabelle said, laughing it off. Blood continued to flow down one side of her face.
"You fell, on the floor, a flat surface and gave yourself that?" Clary said, arching an eyebrow.
"I fell in glass." Isabelle said, her tone suggesting that if Clary pressed this any further, someone was going to lose a finger.
"Okay..."
"So what do you want? Make it quick before I die of blood lost." Isabelle snapped, reminding her frighteningly of Colette.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you about my past? The real me? Clary Morgenstern?" Clary said hopefully.
"Could you come back another time? I kinda have a mess I need to clean up. If I do tell you, that's gonna take at least a few hours and I'm pretty sure I'll be dead by then." Isabelle said dryly.
"Oh. Okay." Clary said, shocked. She took a step back and Isabelle smiled.
"Bye bye." Isabelle said to her before slamming the door loudly, the sound echoing through the halls. Clary flinched at the sound.
Clary stared at the door for a few more long moments, Isabelle's harsh attitude making her almost frozen with shock. Maybe she was PMSing.
Eventually, Clary felt like she could walk again though she knew that the ability had never left her.
She walked down the hallways, enjoying wandering around in the dimly lit corridors.
Hell, she didn't even know where in the Institute was she.
"What the hell, Colette?" a familiar voice rang out. Clary stopped in her tracks, listening intently. She knew eavesdropping wasn't something polite but she wanted to hear what was going on.
"What did you think you were doing?"
Clary realized that the voice was quite close to her. She peeked around the corner and her eyes narrowed at the sight in front of her.
Jace had Colette up against the wall, his arms on either side of her head, trapping her. His face was contorted in anger, his jaw set angrily. Colette didn't even seem scared; she was looking sullenly at Jace, her lips pulled into a pout. She looked like a misbehaving child caught doing something bad by an adult.
Clary wanted to punch her face.
"What the hell did you think you were going to achieve?" Jace growled as he leaned in closer - dangerously closer - to Colette.
Even now, Clary could appreciate the swell of muscles that peeked out from the sleeves of Jace's shirt. They flexed slightly as he moved.
Colette said something inaudible to Jace whose face changed into one of disbelief and dry amusement as he pulled back.
"What?" he said, scoffing, as if he had heard wrong.
"I said," Colette said, louder this time. "That you're mine. You've always have been."
One side of his mouth quirked into a smile that almost looked sardonic.
Jace leaned in closer again and opened his mouth as if to say something, his smile still on his sculpted lips but was interrupted when Colette lunged at him and kissed him, her lips molding and attaching themselves to Jace's.
Her hands wrapped around Jace's neck while Jace's hands immediately went to her waist and Clary could watch no more.
She ducked back behind the corner, tears threatening to spill. She felt her stomach do a three sixty flip before flopping to the soles of her feet and the ache in her chest as her heart was shattered, pummeled, shredded, blended, smashed and diced into a billion little pieces.
She knew she had felt worse pain but in that split moment Colette and Jace's lips had connected, she could've sworn that the pain she felt could've beat every single suffering on Earth. Like she was suffocating - drowning - in pain.
And this was emotional pain. Pain from within. The inside. No amount of pain killers, stitches, bandages or runes could fix her broken heart. Nothing could truly extinguish her pain completely.
As she took that step back as she ducked behind the corner again, she felt the small of her back hit the end of a table that was so conveniently placed right behind her. And that table, conveniently, had to have a glass vase on it.
Clary heard the fragile glass vase shatter to the floor, the sound oddly mirroring the sound of her own shattering heart.
Actually, Clary wasn't sure which shattering is it that she had heard.
"What the hell?" Jace shouted. Oh God, he had heard her.
Clary clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a rising sob and tried to step around the shattered glass. Unfortunately, Clary felt some of the jagged shards dig into the soles of her feet and embed themselves there, making every step that Clary took feel like hell.
Ignoring the dull burning pain in her feet, Clary broke into a run, all the while tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to run away from those two bastards.
Clary wished, just wished that it was as easy as this: running.
Running away from all your problems, leaving every single heartbreak, disappointment and hurt. But that didn't work in reality.
"Clary?" Jace called, his voice shocked and broken.
Clary stifled another rising sob at the sound of her name. Everything hurt twice as much at the sound of her name leaving his mouth.
"Stay away from me!" Clary cried but the words felt like lies. Clary wanted Jace to explain, to reassure her that nothing was happening between him and Colette (but at the same time she had a strong urge to kick Jace in his jewels and rip Colette's fake being apart).
Hating herself and hating Jace, the real truth hit her like a wrecking ball: she was in love with Jace.
With that bastard.
Shame on herself.
She had fallen for him, fallen too hard and he hadn't been there to catch her so here she was, lying cracked and broken on the ground like a fragile cracked porcelain doll.
Clary now regretted not listening to Colette. If she had just stayed away …
The back of her neck prickled with the feeling of being followed.
Ahead, Clary saw a room with its door slightly ajar. Sprinting, she ducked into the room, pinning herself against the wall.
She had ducked into one of the Institutes many empty bedrooms, this one with a collected layer of dust on almost everything.
Praying that the door wouldn't make a sound, Clary closed it until it was open by a slit which she could look out from.
Five seconds later, Jace appeared in her line of sight looking frantic and desperate.
"Clary!" he called again. He ran a hand through his hair, his forehead creased.
Clary had to use both hands to stifle her sobs.
Go away, Jace, stop cutting a bigger wound by looking so broken, Clary thought, her eyes clamped shut. A few more tears escaped, trailing down her face.
Taking a deep rattling breath, Clary peeked out the slit of the door.
Jace took off and disappeared but that set a heavy stone on her shattered heart.
She couldn't help but hate herself for still loving him even after this.
Another round of tears was brought on and suddenly the room she was in was extremely suffocating, helping the pain she felt to drown her. She felt as if her throat had been clogged up and her lungs and windpipe had covered over in fuzz and she was trying to breathe through a pillow.
Taking another rattling breath, Clary staggered out of her room, walking in the opposite direction Jace had gone.
She felt like she could breathe better in the hallways but inside, something was still trying to suffocate her.
All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cry.
Blindly, she searched for the stairs that led to her room. She found it and slowly trudged up it, by this time the sleeves of her cardigan wet with salty tears.
Not really looking, Clary shuffled through the corridor. She looked and suddenly realized that she was extremely I'm-going-to-die-here lost.
She randomly pushed open a pair of big wooden doors and the muted smell of damp, overturned dirt and flowers blew into her.
For a moment, almost forgetting her tears, Clary stared at the sight before her.
Plants and flowers filled her vision, giving off the most alluring scent. Plants and flowers that she had never seen before blossomed vibrantly.
The entire scene reminded her of a fairytale garden where you could expect a unicorn to appear from behind a tree or a Disney princess sweep through the place, gowns, tiaras and all.
But for now, all Clary wanted was for this garden to be a place of solace, where she could go to pieces freely.
A/N - Don't scream at me! I know! I hate myself too … Don't hate but please!