AN: Can't believe people are still interested in this story. Amazing! Thanks for the reviews.
And thank you, Maggie, for the awesome beta work.
Compulsory Butterflies: Part VII
Clary was raised by her father to understand that there are only two kinds of Nephilim. Those who support the Clave and those who stand up against its injustices.
Clary has decided there is a third kind of Nephilim.
Those who don't need the Clave as a marker for what is right and what is wrong.
\ /
She wakes up in Jace's bed, alone and too warm beneath a mountain of covers.
It's easy for her to make her way to the room she and Alec share. These spaces have somehow creeped into her awareness. They are familiar in the way recurring nightmares become familiar-painful and inevitable.
She pushes the door open. Alec is awake and watches her progress towards the bed. As she pulls the t-shirt up over her head, he inhales in a way that makes her body ache.
She lies beside him, traces the band of his pants with a finger, works them off his hips, pushes them past his calves with her toes.
"Touch me."
"Are you sure?"
She nods, sucks his lip between her teeth.
He rolls onto his back, pulling her on top.
She takes her time.
\ /
"I've asked Jace to return to us. My informant in our father's inner circle says he has made good headway with recruiting Nephilim away from my Father. No need to risk Jace getting caught by lingering too long behind enemy lines."
The greasy smell of bacon and eggs rising from the plate in front her is almost enough to make Clary nauseous.
She focuses on breathing in and out. She focuses on hiding her shaking hands underneath the table. She focuses on not leaping out of her seat and lunging over their breakfast to shove those content, gloating words back down her brother's throat.
Time.
She must take her time.
"He should be home tonight. Clary, you haven't touched your food."
\ /
The streets of Paris are congested with late afternoon traffic. There are people everywhere, and Clary fumbles more than once on the uneven sidewalk while Alec guides her forward.
He squeezes her hand. She knows that she's holding on too tightly.
"Here." Jonathans stops them in front of what Clary can only assume is the church he had mentioned before they left the house. Saint...Saint something.
She wasn't paying attention.
They go up the steps and through a narrow door. When it closes behind them, all of the sounds from the street vanish, and there is overwhelming silence.
"Any weapons would be tucked away up here. Alec, give me a hand."
Clary tightens her grip on him instead. "Actually, Alec and I are going to find the chapel."
"Feeling moved to prayer, little sister?"
"No. I want him to fuck me there. On the altar."
It catches Jonathan off guard long enough for Alec and Clary to walk away, and together they move deeper into the church.
\ /
Clary leans back against the closed chapel door. "The ritual is in two days."
"How do you know that? Did Jonathan tell you?"
She shakes her head and moves closer to him through the stale air of the small room. "There is a very good chance that one or both of us is going to die."
His colors flare red and black. "I won't let anything happen to you."
The emptiness of the promise drops between them like something too heavy to carry. Alec moves to turn away, but Clary catches his wrist.
"You mean everything to me. You are the only person I have ever really loved. And I know that it's different for you. I'm not the only person in your heart-"
"Jonathan-"
"No. Not him. I mean Jace. Isabelle. Max. Maryse. Even the Clave-you would die to protect it. And it's beautiful and terrifying that you've opened yourself to so many people." She places her hands carefully on his face. "You are everything to me. I can't lose you."
He presses his mouth to her palm. "I wish I could promise…"
"What if you could?" She lowers her hands. "Alec, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Tentative and desperate, his fingertips skate across her cheeks. And suddenly she is back in their bed that morning, Alec coaxing her up, and up, and up, his hand slipping against her thigh. They touch each other like the moment is bound to vanish, and if only they could reach a new place, if they somehow climb there together.
Here and now, Alec touches his forehead to hers. "I want years with you."
"I'll take days, if that's all that's left."
He is quiet as she draws the stele from her pocket. Her hand is steady. She feels his answer in the way his breathing changes.
"Until death?"
"Even then."
His hand gently wraps around hers, guiding her stele between them.
She is not afraid.
\ /
She pushes into his bedroom without bothering to knock.
"We have to kill Jonathan. Soon."
Jace is by the window. "Why?"
"You know why."
She is certain that Jace can feel it-the slow, steady corrosion of what makes Alec theirs.
"Have you figured out a way to break the blood bond? A way to remove it?" He sounds almost hopeful.
Clary shakes her head. "It can't be done. It's impossible."
"No." A book closes with a snap. "There has to be a way."
She begins to pace from one wall to the other, not bothering to count her steps."There isn't. Or if there is a way, we've run out of time to find it. Jonathan has the cup, and he plans to use it soon. That's why I had to do it. It's the only chance we have."
Jace gets to his feet. "What chance?"
"The bond can't be broken," she repeats, the words thin, and papery on her lips. "But I thought...What if we could dilute it?"
"How?"
She pulls at the collar of her shirt, stretching the cotton down past her shoulder. She feels the hot pulse of the rune as strongly as if it had just been drawn into her skin.
"What did you do?" Jace's voice sounds stretched tight.
"Runes were created by the Angels. They're divine. They were formed to help Nephilim carry out their sacred mandate. Each rune serves a purpose to that end-even blood runes."
"Clary, what did you do?"
"The bond isn't meant to be used as a means of destruction. The rune was created as a way to save a life."
"What did you do?"
"If a dying Nephilim binds himself to someone who is healthy, he'll live. The healthy Nephilim acts as his anchor to this world."
Jace's hands are quick and bruising against her shoulders. "Clary-"
"What if Jonathan wasn't Alec's only anchor? Jace, if someone else is holding him to this world, then Jonathan's death wouldn't kill Alec."
Jace's grip eases, but he doesn't release her. "You created a blood bond with Alec."
"I'll do everything I can to keep him here with us. I promise."
"How do you know it will work? If Jonathan dies, he could end up taking both of you with him-a chain reaction."
"You've never been in love."
Jace says nothing. His fingers brush against her arms as he drops his hands to his sides.
Clary pulls her shirt back in place. "When you're in love, everything you do is uncertain."
He turns from her. "If it works...When Jonathan dies, you and Alec will still be-"
"Yes."
He takes several steps across the room. "Do you really think Jonathan won't notice Alec has a blood bond with someone else? He might already know."
"If he already knew, we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation. But," Clary allows, "I don't know how much longer it will stay a secret."
"This is a bad plan."
"Yes. That's why you need to take me to my mother now. In case things don't work out."
\ /
"Where are the two of you going?"
Clary and Jace stop in the flat's entryway. "To get crepes."
Jonathan is watching them from the couch. "And you didn't think to invite me?"
Jace shrugs. "I thought you and Alec might like some time alone. So you can whisper sweet, diabolical nothings to each other. Or work on your secret handshake. Or braid each other's hair."
"Jealous?" Jonathan asks.
"Of course not. Alec is terrible at braiding hair."
There are several tense moments of silence in which Clary doubts that Jonathan is going to let the two of them leave together. She holds her breath, until…
"Fine. Enjoy your date. And, Jace, don't do anything I wouldn't do."
\ /
They don't speak until they are three blocks from the flat.
Then Jace picks up their speed. "Can you portal us to the boundaries of Alicante?"
"Yes."
He steers them abruptly to the left. Into an alley, she thinks. They walk 50 paces and then stop. "Here. Make the portal here."
She moves to approach the wall with her stele but stops short when Jace's hand settles on her shoulder. "After we free your mother, maybe you should leave with her."
"What?"
"Go somewhere safe. Clary, this fight is going to be bloody and chaotic. And you aren't capable of defending yourself. There's no reason to think that your blood rune wouldn't work just as well from a distance."
"Safe? You think I care about my safety?"
"It's not just your life at risk anymore. If you get slaughtered on the battlefield, Alec dies, too. Jesus. The more I think about it, the less I understand why Alec would risk…"
"Why he would risk binding himself to someone so weak?"
"No. You're not weak. No one could say that after everything you've done."
"Weak or strong, it doesn't matter. What do you think would happen if you went back to that house tonight without me? What do you think Jonathan would do? He would change his plans, and we would be back to square one: clueless."
Jace is silent.
"And I'm not leaving Alec."
Her stele kisses the stone with a hiss of power.
\ /
It is Clary's first time in the great Nephilim capital. She is not sure what to make of the silence, except that it does not feel peaceful.
Jace moves through the City like water through a riverbed, traveling relentlessly and easily around bends and over rocks. He is all instinct and practice.
She hears the approaching steps before he does and grabs his elbow to signal caution.
They move with an intuitive push and pull that Clary has only ever experienced with Alec.
By the time they come to a stop in a building with smooth floors and narrow hallways, she is breathless and incredibly nervous.
"Stay here."
Jace disappears briefly. While he's gone, she fingers the vial around her neck. She thinks about turning around and climbing back down the trap door they just entered through.
But her feet don't move, and when Jace returns, he takes her hand and hauls her forward. "She's through here."
\ /
She finds her mother's hand first. A bony knuckle. Inked skin. She follows the wrist to a thin arm clothed in soft cotton. Her hair is familiar-fine, thick, and curling. By the time she encounters the gentle slope of her mother's mouth, Clary's hands have gone numb. Everything is colorless. She struggles to get the vial open, and then she's not sure if all of the potion goes past her mother's lips or if some spills.
A short distance behind her she hears Jace shuffle his feet.
And then Jocelyn is sitting up.
\ /
There is a sound like ringing in her ears. She hears the woman-her mother-ask them questions. She's suspicious. Jace answers, and Clary knows the words have meaning, but she can't quite decipher it.
There is guarded talk of Valentine. Luke. Escape. Danger. Cup. Hide.
"What are your names?"
"Jace."
Clary realizes they are waiting for her to speak. "Give her the letter, Jace."
He hesitates then acquiesces. "The only thing we ask of you in return is that you deliver this letter to Magnus Bane."
"Magnus Bane?"
"The werewolf can point you in his direction. Trust me, he's hard to miss."
"I know who he is."
Clary laughs. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, but it's too late.
Jace sighs. "We need to go."
\ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ /
It's after 2 am when the door to the flat opens and Clary and Jace come pouring through the entrance along with the warm night air.
Clary stumbles sideways into Jace, and Alec leaps to his feet in concern. But then she's laughing and patting Jace on the chest. "You are so...sturdy."
Jace shoots her an amused look that Clary can't see.
Alec crosses his arms. "You guys were gone for hours. Where have you been?"
"Sorry we missed curfew...MOM." Clary giggles, and pokes Jace in the ribs. "Get it?"
"Wait. Are you...drunk?" Alec looks incredulously at Jace, who shrugs.
"I'm not drunk," he defends.
Clary throws her arms in the air. "Tequila shots for everyone!"
Alec senses Jonathan enter the room behind him. "We were starting to worry."
"Eat my hat."
Jace glances down at Clary. "You don't have a hat."
"Where were you?" Jonathan repeats the question.
Jace is unphased by his hostility. "Out. Dinner. Drinks. More drinks. Did you know that Clary is very good at holding her liquor?"
Clary beams. "Thank you, Jace."
Jonathan is still watching them. Alec watches Jonathan.
"I hope you took my advice to heart, Jace."
"Jace,"-Clary puts her hands on his face-"was a gentleman and a scholar. And an asshat."
"Thank you, Clary. That means a lot."
Alec moves to slide an arm around Clary's waist, guiding her from Jace's side and from Jonathan's watchful gaze.
"Alec!" Clary's arms loop around him. Her cheeks are flushed and beautiful. "Alec, I have just one question for you."
"What?"
"Do you know Magnus Bane?"
\ /
She's laughing as he carries her up the stairs and deposits her on their bed.
He's still bewildered. Still anxious after restlessly waiting hours for their return. He takes a moment to close his eyes, to take a deep breath.
When he opens his eyes again, she's still lying on the bed, silently shaking.
"Nothing you said was that funny."
She gasps, and that's when he realizes she's not laughing at all.
"Clary?"
She shakes her head. The pillow she's burrowed into doesn't quite conceal her next sob.
The sound hits him like a physical blow.
Slowly, he sits on the bed beside her, placing a hand on her trembling back. "Clary? What happened?"
She lifts her head from the covers just long enough to suck in another breath. Her face is red and wet with tears. He brushes errant curls away from her eyes. She shakes her head again and rolls onto her back, pillow clutched to her stomach.
Her breathing is ragged. He thinks this might be what a panic attack looks like.
"I-I saw my mother tonight. She...she didn't even recognize me." Clary presses the back of her hand to her mouth. She shakes. Her chest heaves. "Sh-She left me when I was two days old. She left me with someone she hates. My father, he h-hurt me in ways your parents would never hurt you. I thought he loved me. But he hates me. A-and Jonathan…my brother t-tried to rape me. I don't understand. Why…" She's overcome with sobs again.
Gently, Alec pulls the pillow from her grasp. He takes her into his arms, and she comes to him like rain to the ground. Face pressed to his chest, she saturates him.
"Why would you love me when they can't?"
He understands what she is really asking. And he cannot explain something unfathomable. For Clary to give someone her love and get nothing but hatred and indifference in return…
So he just holds her.
Knowing that he cannot heal this wound, Alec closes his eyes and waits with her while the bleeding slows.
Their breathing slows. Sleep comes.
\ /
"Wake up. Get dressed."
Alec looks from Jonathan to the ceremonial red clothes he's dropped on the foot of the bed.
"Now?"
"Now."
\ /
Alec helps Clary into a long tunic embroidered with black runes.
He needs her and Jace to have a plan, anything to stop what is about to happen. And, yet, when he thinks about Jonathan succeeding, about the ritual finally giving him the power he deserves...
The rush of excitement Alec feels is undeniable.
The conflicting desires wrestle inside him, leaving him nauseous and wound tight.
Clary takes his hand and places it over her chest, where their blood bond is permanently inked in her skin.
"Cut him, and I'll bleed," she recites.
"To love is to destroy."
They stay that way until Jonathan comes to collect them.
\ /
"Where's Jace?"
"I've just sent him to gather the Nephilim he won over from our father. They'll meet us at the site."
Jonathan has a black bag slung over one shoulder. Alec knows it is filled with the items needed to bring forth Lillith from whatever hellish dimension she's trapped in. Ales knows because he helped pack it after their visit to the warlock. He thought they would need her to perform the ritual, but Jonathan assured him that was unnecessary. As her child, his blood will be enough.
"Grab the cup, and let's go." Jonathan gestures to the entryway table, where there's an engraved wooden box that stands about one foot tall and one foot wide. The markings look ancient, but the wood smells newly cut. There are no hinges, no obvious openings. When he picks the box up, he's surprised by how light it is.
Jonathan opens the front door and walks through it without a backwards look.
Alec looks down at the cup in his hands and then at Jonathan's retreating back. He understands exactly what Jonathan is doing-the point he is making.
Even now, with the opportunity to take the cup and leave Jonathan behind, Alec will not betray him. After everything, Jonathan's hold on him is still firm.
Clary moves to the door, starts to push it closed. Alec's heart jumps. "No, don't-"
"Hang on." She pulls her stele out and draws a rune on the back of the door. It's not one he recognizes. Some variation of an open rune. "There. Let's go."
He's relieved when she swings the door back open. He tucks the box under one arm and takes her hand with the other.
As they walk outside, the door closes behind them, and there is a sound like metal tearing itself apart.
\ /
It's windy. And wet. Alec isn't sure what he expected when Jonathan told him he'd found the perfect place to call a greater demon and create an army of loyal Shadowhunters. Perhaps Alec had imagined a fortress of some type. A stronghold. Or even some ancient ruins. Something to indicate the potential for powerful magic and dark intentions.
But all there is only a wide green field erratically marked by large mounds of stone slab.
Clary huddles beside one such up-cropping of rock, shoulders hunched in an attempt to hide from the gales that slice across the sparse valley.
Jonathan stands out in the open, tracing a pentagram onto the ground.
Clary picks at one of her shoe strings. "How angry did he look when the flat imploded?"
"Pretty angry."
"Good."
"Will Jace be showing up soon with reinforcements from the resistance?"
She doesn't answer. It's for the best.
\ /
The bright, spiraling presence of a portal casts the field in a bleaching light. One-by-one, Shadowhunters, dressed for battle, stream through. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Almost forty of them arrive before the portal closes in on itself. They all stand in a loose group, looking expectantly at Jonathan.
Alec scans the faces. "Jace isn't here."
Jonathan looks unsurprised. "How disappointing. I'm sure he's left to inform the resistance of our whereabouts."
Alec looks to Clary for confirmation, but she remains impassive.
"Although," Jonathan continues, "it will be convenient, won't it, Alec? If he brings them here to die, it will save us a trip to the base you mentioned. Let's get started."
He turns to address the crowd.
\ /
Alec half-listens to Jonathan's speech, which seems to achieve little in terms of convincing the skeptical group of Nephilim that he will lead them to glory. These are people of action, and they are sick of words. They want proof of power.
Jonathan is happy to give it to them.
"My Father promised to give Nephilim the power we were always meant to have. I will give you power beyond anything the heavens could grant. And I will give it to you now."
Next to Alec, Clary gets to her feet. "I love you."
He looks at her, but then Jonathan calls his name.
"Bring me the cup."
He takes the box to Jonathan, who sets it on the ground in front of him. Using a small, sharp dagger from his belt, Jonathan pricks the tip of his thumb.
Alec feels the brief sting of the blade.
Jonathan kneels in front of the box, allowing the blood from his finger to fall onto the carved runs. There is a faint click before the top of the box slides open on invisible hinges.
Alec can't see what's inside, but he feels a spike of shock and rage so strong, he has to clench his hands and grit his teeth to bear it.
Jonathan is on his feet in a motion too quick to follow. In the next moment, he's standing in front of Clary, his hand twisted in the front of her tunic. "Where is it?"
Alec has never seen such dark fury.
Clary lifts her chin. "I'm not telling you."
"Give it to me."
"No."
When Jonathan raises his hand to strike her, Alec catches his arm. "Don't. Let her go."
"She took the cup. This fucking whore-"
Alec shoves him, and Jonathan loses his hold on Clary long enough for Alec to maneuver between them.
Jonathan looks at him, stunned. "Get out of my way, Alec."
"No."
"No?" Jonathan's eyes narrow. Alec can feel him probing their bond. His touch is a cold, invisible hand at the back of his neck. It is the first time Jonathan's influence has felt like an invasion, like something foreign and unwanted.
He can tell the moment Jonathan realizes Alec is not entirely his creature.
Again, he turns his wrath on Clary. "What did you do?"
"What I had to."
When Jonathan coils as if to strike, Alec draws his seraph blade. "You can't fight me. Not really."
Jonathan hesitates only a moment before turning to the gathered Shadowhunters, who have moved closer to follow the exchange. "This blind, untrained little girl is the only thing standing between you and unrivaled power. I want them both restrained and unharmed."
\ /
"Alec."
Clary's hands press into his back as half a dozen Nephilim approach with weapons drawn.
"Where the hell is Jace?"
"Alec, there's no point in fighting them."
He knows this. They are outnumbered and have nowhere to run.
"Clary…"
Her hand fits perfectly in his. "It will all be over soon. Remember your promise?"
We'll go somewhere far away. Just the two of us.
He squeezes her hand and lowers his weapon.
Someone wrenches it from his loose grasp, and he finds himself on his knees, arms pinned behind his back.
Clary stands before Jonathan unflinchingly. He tears the collar of her tunic, exposing the red rune on her chest. "My, you've been busy, little sister." He cocks his head to one side. "I wonder…"
He draws the dagger he pricked his finger with and holds it to Clary's throat. With just enough pressure, the skin breaks.
A drop of blood slides down Alec's neck.
Jonathan remains unscathed.
He smiles and presses the blade to her neck again.
Alec tries to get to his feet but is forced back down. "If she dies, I die. If I die-"
"Yes, yes. You've saved her life. Congratulations. But," he circles behind Clary, taking her jaw in his hand, "that's really the only part of her you've saved." The tip of the dagger slides along her face. "Tell me where the cup is."
\ /
In a fight, everything happens quickly. It's instinct and adrenaline. It's staying a half-step in front of your opponent and not noticing when death brushes just past your shoulder rather than through your chest. Pain is proof that you're alive and can stop the next blow from falling.
This is not a fight.
Watching Jonathan pin Clary to the ground and plunge a knife into her shoulder, Alec feels time slow and morph into something new. The moment becomes corporeal and permanent-something he can almost touch.
Clary screams, and Alec can't breathe.
His shirt starts soaking with blood.
Jonathan withdraws the blade, and the slick, wet sound is not quite drowned out by Clary's choked cry of pain.
"Tell me where it is."
She bites her lip and Alec tastes copper.
"Fine." The knife slices her tunic to the waist. Jonathan presses the tip just below her ribs. "I will carve the answer out of you. And once I have the cup, you will be the first to drink from it."
The pain is like a match striking against his skin. She is grunting with the effort to hold still. Her injured arm spasms against the ground.
A murmur travels through the ranks of the Shadowhunters standing around them. None of them move to stop what is happening.
"Please," Alec begs, and he doesn't even know what he is asking for. For Jonathan to stop? For her to give up the cup? For them both to die?
"Give me the cup, Clary," Jonathan coaxes. "I can take the pain away." He brings the knife down into her thigh.
She yells a half-sob.
The person holding Alec's arms tightens has to tighten his grip to keep Alec upright. The wounds throb angrily, demanding his attention. He keeps his eyes on Clary. Tears stream down the side of her face to the ground. Blood and sweat have darkened her neck. She trembles and says nothing.
"I'm getting tired of asking-"
Light flashes against the clouds like lightning. The air thickens, and a portal materializes just fifty feet from them. Figures dressed for battle enter the field one after another, and Alec sags in relief.
"Jace."
\ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ /
"Jace."
She hears Alec's voice and knows the time for waiting is over.
She slides the concealed dagger from her sleeve and drives it upward into Jonathan's chest.
\ /
Alec.
She shoves Jonathan's body aside.
Alec.
She half-crawls, half-drags her body across the grass. Everything hurts.
Alec.
There is shouting. Growling. Metal skating against metal. The names of Angels ring through the air. The unfamiliar scream of battle.
Alec.
He's lying on his back but she can hear him breathing. Forcing herself to her knees, she presses her hands to the wound in his chest. Blood rises to soak her hands, warm as bathwater.
Alec.
Clary summons all of her breath, and… "MAGNUS BANE!"
\ /
The warlock tells her to keep her hands where they are. "And don't move."
Clary tries to stop her body from shaking.
While Magnus starts murmuring strange words beneath his breath, something rolls up onto her foot, and there is the sound of someone dying on the ground behind her.
Clary stays put.
\ /
She can feel Alec through their bond. The thread that always binds them is pulled taut, and the constant push-and-pull between is becoming one-sided. Alec is dragging her somewhere she must follow.
She senses him-them-slipping away.
Magnus touches her shoulder. "You can move your hands."
"But it didn't...I can feel...he's dying…"
"The wound is healed. That's not what he's dying from."
"No..."
"I'm sorry."
It didn't work. Jonathan is dead, and he is taking Alec with him. She isn't enough to keep him here.
Magnus says something else, but she doesn't listen to his sympathies.
Instead, she sinks down against Alec's side and touches a hand to his face. Blue eyes. Brown hair. Pink lips. Pale skin.
"Such beautiful colors."
The part of him inside of her is withering. She begins to feel the tug at her own consciousness. A slow, inevitable draining away of everything that keeps her heart beating and lungs filling with air.
It's like her soul has signaled her body: good work, but, please, it's pointless now.
"I'll be there soon," she tells him.
Somewhere far away. Just the two of us.
She can barely feel his breath against her palm.
"I bet it's peaceful there."
Dying does not feel like falling asleep. It feels like air rushing into you, filling all of the spaces you are leaving behind.
\ /
Strong, swift hands lift her away from Alec's body.
"No…" She pushes feebly at someone's face.
"Clary, please."
Jace.
"Stop. I want to be with him."
"We don't have time."
His hands leave her, and he is touching Alec, tearing at his clothes with a blade. "Jace, he's already healed. The bond didn't work. I'm sorry. You can't..."
"You said these blood runes have a purpose."
"I...yes." She can't think clearly. She's having trouble breathing.
"To save dying Nephilim?"
Yes.
Yes.
She pitches forward, reaching until her hand is on his. "Jace…"
The rest of the words are unreachable.
"I know."
\ /
Her hand tracks his movements as he draws the rune on Alec's chest and then his own. She dips her fingers in the drying blood on Alec's shoulder and then carefully traces over the hungry lines of the new marks.
As soon as Jace finishes adding his own blood, he sits back with a gasp. "My god."
"I know."
\ /
Alec's hands reach out to touch her face, and Clary can't help it. She breaks down into tears.
"Jace? What's going on? Where's Jonathan?"
"Dead."
He sits up. "Did we...win? Is that Isabelle? Are those werewolves? Where's mom? Is she okay?"
"She was alive when I left her in Alicante."
"Alicante?"
"That's why it took so long for us to get here," Jace says with forced neutrality. "When the resistance heard that so many of Valentine's forces were going to walk out of Alicante all at once…"
"They couldn't miss the opportunity to take the city back."
"I told them a group of us needed to come here first to stop Jonathan. They didn't listen. And you almost…"
"They did what they had to."
"But if Jonathan had completed the ritual…"
The voices blur. Gravity twists Clary like a pinwheel in the wind. She passes out against Alec's shoulder.
AN: We're rolling. One more part to wrap things up? Thanks again for all of the lovely feedback.