The moment I was free from Brother Zachariah's gaze, I tore upstairs to the library, locking myself in and rushing over to the section on Nephilim history, running my fingers along the spines and looking for the Codex. I'd had it nearly memorized at one point, but that had been the 1878 edition and I'd not paid very close attention to the one that Irina had assigned me to read. At least if she came in now, I wouldn't have to make up an excuse.

My hands were shaking madly as I located the book and pulled it free from the shelf, my mind racing frantically. Irina had unknowingly given me exactly the hope I needed to escape from the Cartwright manor and perhaps ultimately free Jem. Be careful, my mind cautioned me—my subconscious was beginning to sound exactly like him now. There must be a loophole somewhere. Will and Tessa likely did all they could to help him, and they didn't succeed.

But perhaps they had not been willing to do anything. Nephilim were forbidden to use magic, for one thing, and summoning an angel or making offers with the Fair Folk both certainly fell under that category. Unlike me, they'd had reputations to uphold: Will had been the head of the London Institute; surely every move he'd ever made had been constantly scrutinized, and Tessa was sure to have been watched suspiciously as well—the Clave had likely already disapproved of her, and she could have been banished if the word "magic" was even uttered in her presence. Additionally, unlike me, they'd had children to think of. No, Will and Tessa could not have afforded to even think about doing what I was about to do. Unlike them, I had nothing to lose.

My muscles still ached dully from the training that morning as I settled in the armchair, but I forced myself to ignore their protests. I eagerly flipped to the page on the Mortal Instruments, sneezing impatiently at the dust that puffed up. I would have to make the book look well-used if Irina ever decided to examine it.

…Legend tells us that then Jonathan Shadowhunter cried out in a moment of human weakness, asking Raziel how he could be called if the need became too great for mortals to bear. And Raziel answered him that he had given all he could, the many gifts of Heaven: the Cup, the Sword, the Mirror, the Gray Book, the adamas, the land of Idris. He could give no more. This mission, he said, must be the mission of men. But then he relented, and his sternness briefly faded, and he said, "If you again find yourself in true need—true need—of me, take the Cup, the Sword, the Mirror—these Mortal Instruments—and summon me by the shores of the lake."

I stared at the words for a long time after I was finished reading, biting my lip in concern. It certainly didn't sound promising or even feasible—it could take months, even years, to locate all of the Instruments, and then, even if I did manage to summon Raziel, there was little to no chance that he would actually grant my wish. He would not care about some love affair between a Shadowhunter and a Silent Brother, even if said Shadowhunter had traveled back in time. And what if I got Jem in trouble? I paused, hesitating, but before I could dwell too much on that possibility I reminded myself that I still had one other option.

The chapter on faeries was rife with warnings and cautionary tales about Shadowhunters and mundanes who had foolishly tried to make deals with the Fair Folk, of whom the Seelie Queen was apparently the leader, but I paid it no heed. I knew that the faeries were very manipulative and cunning—I was sure I would be able to handle the situation with ease; after all, I'd spent six months dealing with Will Herondale, so what could be more difficult than that? The warnings were for mundanes who knew nothing about the Shadow World, not Shadowhunters like me who had an idea of what to expect. I made a mental note to myself not to accept any food or drink from them, and was surprised that I'd made a decision so quickly. I was calmer than I should have been, considering the situation. But I supposed I shouldn't think too much about the fact that I was planning to go to the Seelie Court and ask the faeries for assistance, a species I knew next to nothing about. It seemed as if they would be the more dependable and quicker option. I did not have eternity to search for the Mortal Instruments, and perhaps the faeries would even take pity on me. Again, I scanned the paragraph in the Codex:

They are known for their cunning and their cruel sense of humor, and they delight especially in tricking humans—mundanes and Shadowhunters alike. They frequently seek to bargain with humans, offering someone his heart's desire but failing to mention that that desire comes with a terrible cost.

Although the words sounded intimidating, I knew that there was no cost I wouldn't pay to help Jem. I had to do it. I must do it. If I didn't try this, no matter how much I convinced myself that I did not really need Jem, I would have broken my promise to him. Besides, not only would I be able to escape the manor, I would be able to actively look for a cure for Jem, something I had vowed to myself I would do. Two birds with one stone. Even I died, even if I was killed by the Greater Demon or simply old age, at least I would have kept my promise to myself. If nothing else, Jem deserved that. He would never be forced to watch me marry another man. I wasn't even sure I could stand that myself.

Taking a shaky breath, my decision made, I stood up steadfastly and shoved the book back into its place on the shelf. I wasn't putting my mother or grandmother in danger by going to see the faeries—Mom was far removed from the Shadow World, in sunny California, and besides, Magnus was protecting her. And Grandma could take care of herself; she was the head of the Los Angeles Institute after all. I felt a pang of longing when I thought of them; I wanted to run into Mom's arms for comfort again, as I had done countless times when I was a child. Our reunion had been too short. I just had to hope that I would see her again soon—I'd think of an explanation later. I hated lying to her, even now.

So with them safe, that meant the only person I was putting in danger was myself. I could handle that; I'd been in life-threatening situations far too often during the past months for them to hold much weight anymore. Of course, some small part of me knew I was lying to myself, but I couldn't let my fear overtake me. I couldn't think too much about what I wanted to do. I had to focus on the end, not the means to an end. If it meant bartering with faeries over curing Jem, then I would do it. If it meant crawling on my hands and knees through hell and high water while looking for the Mortal Instruments, I would do it. The fact that Jem was still alive, even as Brother Zachariah, was far more than I deserved. Now it was my turn to act.

Not thinking about my plan seemed to be the wisest option—though my heart was pounding madly and I knew my face was flushed—so for the remainder of the day, through the afternoon in the library and then dinner, I concentrated on figuring out a way to escape the manor. Irina's maid was with me at all times; there was no way I could hope to disappear right under her nose. So that meant it would have to be when I was alone, and the only time I was alone was when I was in my room. I'd thought I had already exhausted all the options for an escape (namely the window) but when I sat down on the bed, my legs trembling, I realized there was still one thing I hadn't tried. I had thought it impossible to break the sealing rune, but maybe I didn't have to.

Irina was certainly clever, much cleverer than me, and, if my idea worked, my woefully limited intellect would finally come in handy—Grandma had told me, jokingly, that like Dad, my heart was bigger than my head. Sometimes it was shocking how much she reminded me of Will. Focus! I scolded myself. I could marvel over familial resemblances later.

I began to stand up, shaking, but before I could make my way over to the window there was a soft knock on the door. I froze, scrambling wildly for an excuse, before I realized that the only thing that would give me away was my guilty countenance. In an effort to look nonchalant, I leaned against the bedpost and crossed my arms, pretending I'd been staring out the dark window. "Come in," I said, making no effort to hide the exasperation in my voice. What did the maid want now?

But it wasn't Irina's maid that opened the door. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been surprised to see Zachariah, but I gave a little gasp of surprise before my brain caught up with me. I took a step toward him automatically—it was amazing how I gravitated toward him, even now—but faltered when I saw that his hood was down, exposing his face. He bowed his head, and there was something vulnerable about the back of his neck, the way his dark hair fell slightly over his face, that made me think of Jem. For a moment, he was no longer a stiff, stoic Silent Brother, but my Jem. I wanted to run to him, to throw my arms around his neck and kiss his closed eyes, to run my fingers over his scarred mouth, but I was frozen in place, gripping the bedpost with all the strength I had.

And for the first time, I didn't want to see him. He couldn't know what I was about to do. But even so…he looked so unlike the way he had earlier today, in front of Irina and Andrew. Something had changed, and I wondered if it was because we were alone. Was he able to let his guard down around me privately? I supposed I should feel gratified if it turned out to be true, but fear and anticipation were clouding out everything else. Jem knew my every thought, my every feeling even better than I did. If I spent any length of time with him now, he would guess my plan, and forbid me from leaving the manor. If he did that, I knew I wouldn't be able to go on.

I couldn't disobey a direct order from him—it would feel like a betrayal. In a cruel twist of irony, the only thing stopping me from trying to save Jem was Jem himself.

Abby, he said, ghosting over to me so silently I couldn't be sure if his feet were touching the ground or not. I tried to search for some hint of emotion in his mental voice, but there was nothing. He had perfected the flat, emotionless tone of the Brotherhood. I wondered if it had been different—before—when he was still new, but I would never know. In the same way that Jem had always known what I was thinking or feeling, I'd always be able to instinctively sense his moods. Brother Zachariah was a new, almost alien creature, and it terrified me. I never knew where I stood with him, and the fact that I occasionally saw glimpses of the Jem I had known and loved in Zachariah unsettled me. I could never be completely relaxed around him. Not for the first time, I desperately wished I could speak to Will and Tessa about it. They were the only people in the world who knew and loved Jem as much as I did. They would understand.

You must gather your things, Zachariah said, stopping just in front of me. He folded his hands in front of him, a gesture that I'd grown accustomed to. Your grandmother is arriving in Alicante tomorrow to take you to a safer location. The wards of Idris have been breached and the Consul has ordered your immediate removal from the manor.

"The wards…have been breached?" I whispered in confusion. "But if Idris isn't safe, then where is? I…I don't understand. You told me just this afternoon that I had to stay here—"

That was before Irina Cartwright learned the true gravity of the danger you are currently facing. There is no possible way a demon can get past the enchantments, but she still feels it is best if you are residing elsewhere.

It took me a moment before I understood: there was an underlying layer of pity in his voice, but no resentment. "She's sending me away, isn't she?" I asked. Surprisingly, there was no bitterness in my tone. "She doesn't want to risk leading the Greater Demon here, even if Idris is safe." My mouth had gone dry: this was exactly what I had wanted earlier today. I would have been jumping for joy if Zachariah had told me this after my training.

But not now. Not now, after I'd already made a plan—"Where am I going?" I asked, fighting hard to control the trembling in my voice.

Your grandmother shall decide that, Jem said. Though his eyes were closed, I felt his piercing stare on my face. I prayed he couldn't read the conflict in it. I volunteered to accompany you.

The room tilted suddenly, and I grasped frantically at the bedpost to stay upright, but Jem reached out at the same time to stop me. His hands were flat against my back, and I felt a tremor go through him, as if he was suppressing some violent emotion. Abby—he said before he abruptly cut himself off as if he'd been about to say something else.

And then everything became clear.

I had been so childish, thinking that if I couldn't have Jem romantically, I couldn't have him at all. But now…

This was enough, just talking to him and feeling his hands on me, even if it wasn't in the way I wished. It was so much better than I had expected. I imagined coming back to a 1978 without Jem, Silent Brother or not, and the thought was so devastating that my mind automatically shied away from it. He was still my Jem, and it had been nothing but shallow of me to think otherwise.

For a moment, I thought about hiding away with him, in some remote, far-flung corner of the world. I would get to hear so much, and I could pretend that things were better—even as I watched myself grow older and Jem stayed an unchanging Silent Brother. And I would still get to be with him, even if it wasn't in the way I wanted.

This time, I pulled away from him first and touched his face, my fingers skimming along the length of his jaw. His own hand moved upwards as if he wanted to take my wrist and then thought better of it. We had done this so many times—acting as if we were Abby and Jem again. It was one thing when it had been our first reunion, but this was the third time that it had happened. But things were not the same. I could pretend that they were, but I was lying to myself.

I swallowed hard, wincing as my voice cracked, and asked, "Will you stay with me?"

If you want me to, Jem agreed, and I wondered if I heard hesitation in his voice. Even after all this time, he still thought there was a chance that I wouldn't want to see him. I was about to reassure him that I would always want him—and then stopped dead, the words stuck on my lips. I couldn't give in to this impulse that wanted to run into his arms and never let go, even if he pushed me away. As tempting as it was to go along with Grandma's new plan and let myself be whisked away to somewhere I was safely out of danger's path—a Shadowhunter running from a demon, of all things—I would be breaking my promise to Jem. I wouldn't be able to visit the Seelie Queen or search for the Mortal Instruments if he was anywhere near me.

He would surely follow me if he knew what I was trying to do, to stop me. How could I convince him not to? How could I send him away for good, confident in the fact that he would never return?

The answer was staring me right in the face, but I couldn't do it.

I had to do it. I had no other choice.

There's always another way—

No, there wasn't. Not this time.

I would have to act quickly before I became a coward. It would kill me. But I had to do it. I had to send him away. It was the only chance I had to save him. I couldn't hide away and stay miserable while abandoning my only chance, slim as it was, at happiness. It didn't matter what Jem would have done if the situation had been reversed. He deserved better than this. I deserved better than this.

I stared fixedly at a spot on the wall behind his head and choked out, "But I don't want you to…to stay with me."

Okay, so the words hadn't come out as confident and assertive as I'd hoped. But I had said them. I had that to be proud of, at least.

There was a short, agonizing beat of silence, and then Jem replied, There is no danger for me, Abby. The Clave is sure of that.

Oh, God. This was going to be even more difficult than I imagined. There was a massive difference between telling yourself you were going to do something and then actually doing it. He was unsure of my true feelings, but deep down, Jem knew that I still loved him. According to Tessa, that was one of the only things that had kept him going for the past century, and I was about to destroy that.

For his own good.

For his, or for mine?

Focus, Abby, I told myself sharply, working my face into a more composed expression. I wanted to get this over with as quickly and…painlessly as possible. "Jem—Zachariah," I began, "It isn't…your safety I was talking about. Believe me, I'm grateful that you're trying to help me, but…I don't need it. You don't need to look out for me."

It was at your grandmother's request. Maybe it was just my imagination, but he sounded colder than he had a moment ago.

"This isn't about my safety, either!" I said, hoping I sounded adequately frustrated. "It's about what I want." I might as well just get it over with now. I forced myself to look directly at him as I answered. "I don't want you to follow me around anymore. Things aren't the same as they were before. I do appreciate it, but…I want a chance to build a new life. Of course, I'll always…think fondly about what we shared, but it's not 1878 anymore."

He didn't respond, so I kept going. Better to shatter my heart quickly rather than dragging it out painfully. "I don't want any reminders of my life in the past. I want to start anew. Please understand that I…that I don't love you anymore. At least not in the way I once did." Jem's mother's pendant and the Carstairs ring suddenly burned against my skin, but I didn't take them off. That I was not able to do.

The magnitude of the lie took me aback and left me breathless. I gasped for air, but my words had come out in such a rush that I didn't need to explain that. Now my plan was hinged on the fact that Jem would concentrate on the words themselves rather than the expression on my face.

Half of his own face was in shadow; the other half was unreadable. I knew that he wouldn't put up a fight if he thought that it was what I truly wanted. Slowly, he lifted his hood to hide his face, and I felt yet another thrill of horror go through me. What had I done?

You do not wish to see me again? Brother Zachariah asked. I could not see his face, and that made it easier—he could have been any Silent Brother then.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, knowing I had to deliver the final blow. It was now or never. "Not like this. Not when I have to pretend you're a stranger."

He was quiet for a long moment. My heart was pounding crazily. Very well, then.

I felt sick; I dropped my gaze and stared blindly down at my hands, unable to move or speak. If Jem asked me to elaborate, I wouldn't be able to say a word. I had done all I was capable of doing now.

I wasn't sure how long I was sitting on the edge of the bed, numb and feeling utterly desolate, before I realized that I was alone in the room. Jem had disappeared, and with him my heart. I knew instinctively that he wasn't returning. I had accomplished what I had been trying to do—and I felt absolutely wretched. Even reaching up to touch the jade pendant didn't help. I pictured his mother, Ke Wen Yu, small and graceful with delicate features but a "warrior soul", as Jem had once described her with more than a hint of wistfulness in his eyes, staring at me with accusation in her eyes. Her son had sacrificed everything for me, and I had thrown that sacrifice away. I felt even sicker, and considered running after him as I had once done and begging his forgiveness. I would never let the plan cross my mind again—

But even as I thought the words, the rational part of my mind knew it was impossible. I couldn't go back now, and to do so would just be digging my own grave. Maybe, if everything turned out well, if Jem was cured and ceased being a Silent Brother, I could apologize to him and beg him to take me back. But I didn't know if I had wrought irreversible damage. He probably wouldn't take me back; I wouldn't take myself back. But maybe he would understand someday. Maybe he would forgive me, if he wasn't too caught up with finding someone else to fall in love with. Perhaps even Tessa. They had a history, after all, and being with Jem would still tie her to Will…

But the thought of Jem in love with anyone else, even Tessa, was too much for me to bear. I abruptly got to my feet and wrung my hands together in anguish, pacing up and down the length of the room. I'd successfully sent him away, but at what cost? Would he ever be able to speak to me again? Would I ever be able to speak to him again?

It was in the midst of this brooding that I realized I was wasting precious time. There was always the chance that no one would come to check on me until the morning, but there was also a greater chance that Irina had seen my moves before I had and plotted for this very situation. Grandma would be at the manor to pick me up in the morning, and with the threat of a Greater Demon or not, I had to escape. But freedom didn't seem so tempting anymore.

"Damn it, Abby," I said aloud, hitting my forehead with the palm of my hand, "You brought this upon yourself." Now it was up to me to fix everything. Obsessive thinking wouldn't get me anywhere.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind, I grabbed Maxwell's dagger from the bedside table—not that it would do me much good if I came up against a real danger—and hurried back over to the window. It was still tightly locked and sealed, and after I tried an Unlocking rune with no success I was forced to turn to my last resort; my last hope of getting out of the manor.

Jem was long gone, and I was confident that neither Irina nor her maid would be able to hear me. Just in case, however, I drew a Soundless rune on my arm before tying my hair back with an elastic band I'd found stretched across one of the books, and picked up the empty water jug from where it stood by the window and steeled myself. I guessed that I had about five minutes if either one of them heard the noise or saw me sprinting across the grounds; the maid looked untrained and Irina was elderly, so I should be easily able to outrun them both.

And then, finally gritting my teeth and springing into action, I hurled the jug at the window and ducked as the glass shattered, thousands of tiny shards flying in all directions. The crash had been deafening, and even with the rune I knew I had little time to waste.

Pulling a piece of glass out of my ponytail, I straightened up and saw that the impact had left an almost perfectly circular hole in what was left of the window, just large enough for me to crawl through. I would have to be careful not to cut myself on any of the broken shards.

I glanced back at the door one more time before hopping up onto the table, kicking the debris out of the way, and stuck my head out into the cool night air. My room was on the very top floor—likely yet another precaution by Irina—and there was nothing but a rock path directly below me. Even with runes, I had no guarantee that I would land safely. Biting my lip in concern, I pulled myself farther out so that I was half-leaning out of the window. I hadn't bargained on this; I'd thought that the lawn stretched up this far. I could take my chances and jump anyway…but I could have sworn I'd seen a pond in the gardens when I had first arrived here.

After straining my ears for a long moment, I drew back, victorious and giddily relieved at the sound of water lightly lapping against rocks. I couldn't see the pond from here, but I knew it was close—at least, if my memory was to be trusted. My witchlight wouldn't do much good, either—it was meant for lighting up small rooms rather than larger areas. Even so, I held it out in front of me, squinting at its bright light, and searched for a pond in the direction of the splashing noise.

Luckily for me, my hunch had been right—there was a small, decorative pool nearby, but unluckily for me, it wasn't close enough. I might be a Shadowhunter, but I doubted I could jump that far.

I lifted up the witchlight slightly, and my eyes landed on a tiny, crumbling ledge jutting out from the next window. I eagerly glanced down at my own, but there was no such structure there. So Irina had chosen my room well. The question was, if she'd foreseen me doing this, why had she placed a glass jug right next to the window? Surely she would have thought of every option—

And then I heard voices in the corridor outside. They were unfamiliar, gruff—guards? No, the maid had told me that only she and Irina lived in the manor…I froze, balancing on the windowsill, listening.

"It's locked," a man's voice was saying. His accent was Eastern European and very thick. "This is an unfamiliar rune."

"Irina must have thought the girl was liable to escape or else she wouldn't have alerted us," a second voice remarked. "Isn't she supposed to leave tomorrow, anyway?"

My eyes widened as realization finally dawned on me. I'd been right—Irina guessed all along that I would try to escape. I remembered Tessa saying that she was very influential in Alicante: so it wouldn't be just Irina I was on the run from, it was the entire Clave.

Panic flared up in my chest, and I frantically shoved myself through the window. Things were going very wrong very quickly. While the two Shadowhunters outside my door argued about the best way to open it—I had the sudden, strange thought that perhaps Zachariah had somehow tightly sealed it—I thought back to my training session earlier today, and pretended that I was balanced on the beam, trying to get away from Andrew. I kept my eyes fixed on the ledge in front of me and jumped, a bit of glass embedding itself into the back of my hand as I struggled to grip onto the jagged edges of the window, but I could do little more than gasp in pain as air rushed past me for one long, wild second—and then my fingernails scraped the edge of the ledge. I was swinging precariously a hundred feet above the rocky ground below, and some part of my mind had detached itself from the rest of my brain and seemed to be watching everything as if I was floating above the scene, horrified.

With a groan, I heaved myself up onto the tiny ledge with all my strength, my arms shaking as I crouched down, pressing myself closely against the window so I wouldn't fall off. I was vividly reminded of kneeling on the edge of the folly at Lightwood House, the worm that had once been Benedict lunging and attacking me. I had been balancing precariously then, too, and had launched myself into a pond without knowing how deep it was. But this time neither Jem nor Will could save me from drowning. I was on my own.

I had no idea how much time I had left before the Clave caught up with me—I was taking my chances as it was. I took a deep, shuddering breath, counted to ten in my head, and closed my eyes, angling my body in the direction of the pond before letting go.

The fall was quicker than I'd anticipated; it must have been barely five seconds before my body hit the water. The pond, though deeper than the one at Lightwood House, was still very shallow, and all the breath was knocked out of me as I smashed against the rock bottom. But unlike last time, I had been expecting it, and was able to push myself back up to the surface again, my head breaking the water with a gasp.

I gripped the edge of the pond for several seconds, taking great gulps of air as I tested out my muscles. My back ached from where I had hit the bottom, and my legs were shaking, but nothing too severe. I'd barely managed to pull myself out of the pond and stumble a few steps forward before I heard a yell from the manor and saw a seraph blade whizzing past my face.

That jolted me into action, and I immediately broke into a sprint, my arms shielding my head in case I was met with another seraph blade. The grounds of the manor were dark, but even the pitch-black sky could not completely extinguish the demon towers, which still glistened faintly in the distance, rising above Alicante like ghosts. They were my only guides as I ran through the inky night, down the sloping lawn and away from the Cartwright manor, my heart slamming against my chest as I tried very hard not to think.