Chapter 10: …And Disasters
Jace carefully untangled himself from Clary, withdrawing his arm from around her head. He was glad she didn't stir. For well over an hour, she had been groaning, crying, screaming in her sleep. There had been a moment she had actually opened her eyes- but whatever she had been seeing, it hadn't been him or the Institute.
Her eyes were closed again and now she looked peaceful. Peaceful, being pale and warm and quiet at least. Jace had to swallow a lump in his throat as he turned away. He wanted to tell himself she would be fine. But if this last episode was anything to go by, it was clear Magnus' cure was not working. And they had nothing else to give her.
Jace ran his hands through his hair as he stood. He looked at Clary. What am I supposed to do if you die?
For so long, practically since he had met her, Jace had refused to think about that question. He remembered talking with her once about how if she died, he would go on for her. Unless he had caused her death, in which case he deserved to die. In this situation Jace felt like he had caused this. He should've insisted on hunting with Clary that night. He should've had her back. Perhaps had he been there too, Aster wouldn't have been able to hurt her like he did.
Jace sighed at himself. Saying these things made it sound like it was Simon's and Isabelle's fault for what happened, or it was Clary's for being inexperienced. Neither of these things were true.
It's still my fault.
If Clary died, what would he do? How could he go on?
How could Moriah?
Hearing the infirmary door open made Jace shake the thoughts from his head. He went back around the screen to see who entered. He managed a smile at the sight of Moriah. ''What are you doing?'' He asked her as she approached. ''What have you got there?''
She was clutching three stuffed animals, but upon reaching him, she let them fall to the floor and wrapped her arms around his legs. She looked up at him, blinking.
''C'mon,'' Simon whined behind her. ''You can't hide your love for Pokèmon from him! It's not right.''
Jace absently twirled one of Moriah's curls around his finger. '' 'Pokèmon'?''
''It's the game the toys are from.''
''Huh.'' Jace glanced at the toys. ''They're ugly.''
'' 'They're ugly'…'' Simon shook his head. ''Don't let him talk about them that way, Moriah. Hit him.''
Moriah made a hissing noise. Jace looked down at her and saw her bearing her teeth. He blinked in surprise; she looked angry. ''No, no. You can't bite mommy's parabati. She wouldn't like that.'' Moriah closed her mouth and looked back at him, her expression once again blank. ''We just have to put up with him.''
''Ouch,'' Simon said, but Jace could sense his slight change in demeanor. He hadn't expected Moriah to have that reaction to his joke either. His eyes went to the screen. ''Um, is she…?''
Jace only shook his head. He hadn't offered any explanation before when he handed Moriah over to him. He didn't want to explain Clary's condition now, especially in front of Moriah. ''She's worse,'' he said simply.
Simon bit his lip. ''Okay.'' He looked resolute, but Jace didn't know about what. He jabbed a finger to the door. ''I- I'm just going to go.''
''See you later.'' Jace went to pick Moriah up, but she suddenly paused, and quickly went to gather up the stuffed animals.
''Ha!'' Simon said as she did so. ''I told you she liked them!''
''I never said she didn't,'' Jace argued. Moriah handed him one to hold. ''What the hell is this? A weed?''
''It's a dinosaur!''
''Are you sure?''
Simon rolled his eyes. ''You have no appreciation for beauty.''
''I just have standards.'' Jace looked at the other toys Moriah was holding. ''The blue one isn't terrible.''
''One of these days, I swear…'' Jace wasn't sure what he did to deserve such a response, but Simon walked away before he could ask.
''He's weird,'' Jace told Moriah. She blinked at him. ''C'mon, let's sit.''
She darted behind the screen. Jace sat on the bed beside Clary's. Moriah stood in the gap between them both. She dropped her two toys on the sheet, rearranging them regardless of Clary laying right there. She picked up the orange one- a lizard?- and started petting it. She looked from it, to him, and then to Clary.
Jace watched her silently. For a long time, Moriah just stared at her mother's still form. She made no sound, no movement. She just…stared.
Jace shook himself. When did it get so cold in here? ''Hey,'' he said, reaching for Moriah. He pulled her gently over, her gaze still fixated on Clary. ''Come here.''
He pulled her onto his lap. He held the toy she had handed to him in front of her. ''You know this is ugly, right?'' he asked her. Moriah finally turned away from Clary to look. She studied it for a moment before making a noise in her throat and turning to bury her face in his neck. ''Thought so.''
…
Aster didn't take kindly to Clary's implication. She didn't know if he believed her or not, but judging by his expression, it was the sort of thing he was afraid not to believe. Aster was many things, but a coward? No. He would rather die again than give that impression, she knew that much. She suspected that is why he laughed.
''You think you have powers? Well then, little artist. Prove it.''
He lunged at her, a glittering sword appearing in his hands. Clary rolled out of the way, but none too gracefully. The rocky cave floor scraped her knees and hands.
Another laugh rang out, but it wasn't Aster's. Standing in front of her now was Jonathan- no, not Jonathan. Sebastian.
''Come on, little sister,'' he taunted, black eyes glittering. ''You think you are like me now, do you?'' He moved so quickly, Clary didn't realize he had kicked her until she was flat on her back, her chin and neck throbbing. He leaned in close. ''You should have no more objections to us then, hmm?''
Clary fought down her panic. Him, standing over her. No. Never. Never again.
She closed her eyes, her rune power desperately wanting to focus on something good. But that was what angels- made of all holiness- did. If she was right about the demon blood, then she needed the bad. The pain. Demons fed off of pain.
Pain. Hurt. Fear. Worry. Terror. Anger.
Anger.
She felt something cold appear in her grip. She struck out at Sebastian, her new sword coming into contact with his side. With a curse he jumped back, and Clary took the opportunity to roll and get to her feet.
She managed a quick look at her sword. Black blade with a pearly white hilt. It shined like glass.
''My my.'' Clary looked back at Sebastian. His white shirt was stained with blood, but otherwise he looked unharmed. ''I guess we are alike now.''
A bitter taste filled her mouth. She shook her head. ''No. Demons are bad, but you weren't all demon. You were human, too. You made choices to give yourself over completely to the demon inside you. Now you're free. Now you are my brother, Jonathan.'' She raised her sword. ''I'm not letting whatever demon blood is in me take over. Just like I won't let Moriah go down that path.''
'' 'Choice' is such a nice word. It makes it sound as if there are other options.'' He spread his hands. '' 'And in the beginning, there was darkness.' Does it not logically follow that darkness is what we will return to?''
''Maybe. But not me. Not now.''
''So full of hope. How angelic.''
They ran at each other, their blades clashing. Clary knew this was a mistake; she wasn't meant for close combat like this. He was bigger and stronger than her in build. She needed some plan that would put her small frame to use. Her eyes went to the tunnel that led to the opening of the cave. She needed room.
Knowing it was a gamble whether or not she would be fast enough to out run him in the narrow tunnels, Clary fought so they circled each other. When her back was to the opening, she turned and fled.
Sebastian's laugh morphed back into Aster's as she ran, and soon she could feel him in pursuit. Clary reminded herself to even her breathing. Breathe too fast you get winded easily. Breathe slow, run fast. Do not panic.
Aster/Sebastian was gaining on her. She had made a mistake in darting back through the tunnels, though what else she could've done she didn't know. She needed to be out of the cave already.
An idea occurred to her, one so obvious she nearly stopped in her tracks. I'm an idiot.
She closed her eyes even as she ran, her mind thinking of somewhere else. The cave floor melted away.
When she opened her eyes sunlight greeted her. They were in Idris, on some mansion's front lawn. Sebastian cast a look around. ''So, you can control the dreams now? Good to know.'' He flicked his fingers, a purple glow whipping around them. ''I'll be sure not to let that happen again.''
''Won't have to,'' Clary said. ''I'll be leaving here soon.''
He threw back his head and laughed. ''It is adorable that you think that. You can't leave here, Clary. Even if you kill me, you'll just be stuck here, haunted by your own nightmares. The only way you can get out of your own head is back in the real world. And I am quite certain that will not happen.''
''Your prerogative, I guess.'' I'll be fine. There's Jace and Jonathan. Simon and Isabelle. Alec and Magnus. They'll think of something. I'll be fine.
''Can't think of a cure for something that doesn't exist.''
Clary forced her thoughts away. She didn't have time to dwell on how he knew what she was thinking. ''Whatever.'' Her sword tight in her grip, she ran toward the house.
…
Jocelyn had been trying for the past half hour to compose herself. She had been pacing the length of one of the Institute's spare rooms, forcing down her anger and fear.
I can't do this again. I can't watch Clary go through this. She doesn't deserve this.
She had regretted every word of her and Clary's last two conversations. Sitting in the infirmary, watching and wondering if she was going to be okay made her promise to herself that she would try harder. She had to try harder to do as everyone else seemed to do and give Moriah the benefit of the doubt. She had to do that. If not for Moriah's sake, then Clary's.
But walking into the kitchen, hearing Jonathan speak that language…
''When's father coming home?''
''Later.'' Jocelyn watched her son as he sat up in his bed. She dug her nails in her palms as his black, dead eyes gleamed at her even in the darkened bedroom.
''I don't like my room.''
''Your room is fine.''
''I hear things.''
''There's no one in here except you, Jonathan.''
''May I sleep with you?''
Jocelyn shook her head. ''No. You are old enough to sleep in your own bed.''
Something that was almost recognizable as disappointment flashed across the two year old's face. ''When's grandma coming home?''
''Not until next week.'' Longing for her mother and father flared up in Jocelyn. The hint of emotion on Jonathan's face suggested he felt something similar. ''Goodnight.''
''I'm scared,'' Jonathan said as the door began to shut.
''No, you're not. Now go to sleep.'' She ignored any further protests and closed the door.
She walked down the hall, stopping a few feet away from her son's room before leaning against the wall in weariness. She hated being alone with him. He hated being alone with her. Her eyes fell on the wall across from her, her parents' portraits, side by side. ''Don't look at me like that.''
Clarissa Fairchild smiled in her picture, her eyes sparkling just as they did whenever she saw Jonathan. And there was her father, Granville, looking as unimpressed as ever. No matter how skilled the artist, they couldn't capture the happiness and laughter in his eyes whenever Clarissa spoke to him, or when Jonathan and him discussed for hours about the new books they were reading.
Jocelyn hung her head, feeling like a child who had done something wrong. Her mother always snatched up any moment Jonathan dropped his mature demeanor to dote on him and treat him like the young toddler he was. She never would deny him such a simple request as sleeping in the same bed as her.
Jocelyn forced herself forward back to his room. It didn't matter what she felt. It didn't matter that she was scared of his cold little body or his big, dead eyes. He was her son. She was his mother. That was what mattered.
''Jonathan?'' She opened his bedroom door. ''Jonathan, if you really want-''
But she stopped, the sight in front of her and the sounds she heard all catching up. Jonathan, kneeling on the floor looking under his bed, making horrible, horrible noises. Clicks and hissing noises.
He snapped his head to look at her and they stared at each other. Mother and son. Human and demon.
Jocelyn leaned on the window sill, looking out at the city. She kicked her foot in punishment against the wall. Shut. Up.
She wasn't a fool. She knew her problems with Moriah stemmed from her problems with Jonathan. And time had made her wonder if her prospective when Jonathan was little was messed up. But even if that was true, she wasn't all wrong. Jonathan had been…wrong. And Moriah was the same.
''Jocelyn?''
Jocelyn turned about sharply. ''Jia?''
''Sorry to bother you,'' Jia apologized. She looked…worried? ''But I believe I require your assistance.''
''My assistance?'' That icicle feeing rose up in her again. ''Is Clary alright?''
''To my knowledge, her condition remains unchanged,'' Jia said. ''The problem isn't about her. Or, I suppose it is…''
''What are you talking about?''
Jia bit her lip. Jocelyn didn't like seeing the Counsel looking so torn. ''Come with me.''
…
It wasn't until Clary ran past the open study door that she realized where she was: In Fairchild Manor, before Valentine burned it and her grandparents to the ground. The study was the one she had been in before, where Jocelyn asked Valentine what he had done to Cèline.
She didn't have time to dwell, however. She ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Maybe she could push Sebastian out a window. Maybe she could climb out the window and lose him in Idris. She didn't like her chances with one-on-one combat. His words about her never making it out of here were still ringing in her ears. If she did kill him, would he just come back again? At full strength? Eventually she would lose from sheer exhaustion.
Clary darted down another hall as Sebastian's footsteps caught up to her's. Aster's laughter rang out again.
''We always have to face the music eventually. Can't hide and run forever. Eventually, fate must take the stage.''
Anger surged in Clary as she ran. Wanna bet?
…
Simon heard the yelling. He frowned as he deduced it coming from Max's room. Realizing it had been several hours since he had even seen Max around, he decided to look in. The door was slightly ajar, and so he entered.
Max was sitting on his bed, his sword across his lap. The girl Simon recognized from Naranth and the hunt, Celeste, was sitting next to him. Jonathan was leaning against the wall, looking bored, twirling a vial of something in his fingers. Isabelle was standing in from of them all. She was scolding and yelling in the way only a Lightwood could. Jonathan saw Simon and gave him a 'what can you do' sort of look
''-and what do you do?'' Isabelle shouted. ''You conduct the most stupid, idiotic plan and just up and leave!''
''We came back,'' Max put in.
''What if you didn't?''
''But we did.''
''But if you didn't?''
''But we did!''
''What happened?'' Simon interjected.
''Went out, lied, threatened, stole, and cheated some fairies out of a cure,'' Jonathan said, holding up the vial. ''Go on,'' he said to Isabelle. ''I believe it was your turn.''
''A cure?'' Simon asked. ''A cure for Clary?''
''The very one.''
''How do you know it's right?'' Isabelle demanded.
''We got it from the fairies who worked with Aster,'' Celeste said.
''What if they lied?''
''I don't think they did.''
''What if they did?''
''I don't think-''
''Dear god not this again,'' Max huffed.
''We can't just hope it works,'' Isabelle said. ''Clary can't take another failed attempt.''
''Another?'' Jonathan raised an eyebrow. ''What do you mean?''
Isabelle looked to Simon. ''She- she got worse,'' Simon offered. ''Magnus' cure didn't have an affect. Or, if anything, had a negative one.''
Max looked up in worry. ''So, if we give her this, and we're wrong…''
''She could die.''
A silence settled over them. Simon felt like there was weight in his chest. Clary dying. Clary dead. Clary died. He couldn't imagine that. He couldn't live with that.
Celeste stood. ''She's dying anyway,'' she stated.
''Celeste,'' Max warned.
Isabelle frowned. ''I thought you couldn't come in the Institute and risk being seen?''
Celeste blinked innocently. ''You told us to get our asses up here so you could yell at us. It didn't seem like the time to protest.''
''You can go now.''
''Either Clary gets this cure or nothing at all,'' she said. ''A chance is better than nothing, yes?''
None of them said anything. Simon realized, when put like that, the choice was simple. Jonathan outstretched the bottle. ''Take it to Maryse?''
Isabelle sighed angrily. She took it. ''Come on. Max, you stay here.''
''Gladly.'' Simon was surprised by his response, but then he realized that no doubt they would have to explain where they got the cure. Clearly Max didn't want Maryse's scolding back to back with Isabelle's.
Isabelle led the way out. Simon paused at the door, intending to let Celeste pass, but she was gone. ''Where the hell did she go?''
Jonathan waved the matter aside. ''She does that. Ignore it.'' Simon was too tired and worried to press the matter.
They went to the library, and once there Isabelle explained to her parents about Max's and Jonathan's unauthorized hunt, and how it was successful. She then reiterated Celeste's point about this being Clary's only option.
A growing fear rose up in Simon as Maryse and Robert didn't react to the news. Robert just looked weary. And angry. ''None of you mentions this.''
''What?'' Isabelle slammed the bottle down on the desk. ''But we need-''
''The Consul was able to procure a cure.''
''The Counsel?'' Simon repeated dumbfound. ''But how? From who?''
Robert looked even angrier. Next to Simon, Jonathan stiffened. ''Oh, hell.'' He looked from Robert's face to Maryse's. ''Tell me she didn't.''
Simon wanted to ask who didn't what, but didn't get the chance. A laugh from behind them rang out. They all turned around and there, standing between the Counsel and that Geoffrey Whitsnake, in chains, was a fairy.
Simon recognized her blue hair and eyes from the rooftops in Naranth. ''Of course she did,'' the fairy said. ''What else should a leader do for their warriors?''
''No.'' Jonathan looked at them all in accusation. ''How- how could you-''
''In exchange for a cure,'' Robert said, his tone clear he was not at all happy about this arrangement, '' this fairy will be granted protection from the Underworld that hunts her. She has agreed to cooperate with the Clave-''
''For your goddamn Inquest!'' Jonathan was the angriest Simon had ever seen him since his return.
''She's the one that hurt Clary and Jace!"' Isabelle argued. ''We fought her when we rescued Moriah!''
Moriah. The Inquest.
''You want her testimony,'' Simon said. He looked at the Counsel and at Geoffrey, the latter of which looking extremely pleased. ''You- you're…''
He couldn't go on. The gravity of the situation was too large to comprehend.
Isabelle snatched up the vial from the desk. ''We have one! We don't need her!''
''Isabelle!'' Maryse warned.
''We have already given our word,'' Jia said. ''The deal had been made. That is it.''
''But while on the subject,'' Geoffrey said, looking at Isabelle curiously. ''One might ask how you had come by that potion?'' He looked to Jonathan. ''And how you seemed to know about the fairy Renage's deal?''
''Leave them out of this, Geoffrey,'' Maryse said icily. ''All of you, leave the room.''
Simon pushed Jonathan forward before he could say something any of them would regret. He grabbed Isabelle's hand and led her out too. Renage gave them a sickly sweet smile, her teeth all showing. Simon had to dig his nails into Jonathan's arm as they passed; no need to give the Clave more motive to take away anymore of Clary's family.
Simon dragged them all several doors away. Isabelle dropped his hand and began kicking the wall. ''Stupid, fucking, motherf-''
She kept swearing, switching to Latin curses when she ran out of English ones. Simon could only watch numbly. ''They want her to testify,'' he said again. ''They want her to tell them all that they did to Moriah.''
Jonathan stood stiffly next to him. ''And unlike Clary and Jace, she won't need any prompting to tell every single detail.''
Simon felt sick. All he could think about was how frightened Moriah had been those first few days. How if someone even looked at her too long she would recoil away. What did a creature have to do to a child to make them act like that?
Isabelle stopped kicking the wall and stared at the dent she had made. ''They'll take her away,'' she said bluntly. Simon realized she hadn't turned around to try and hide the fact she was crying. ''If that fairy testifies, they will take Moriah away.''
We can't let her testify then, Simon thought. How they were to prevent that though, he had no idea. All he knew was that he couldn't let Clary and Jace look the way they had that month they had come back without Moriah. He would die before he let them experience that pain again.
Without a word, Jonathan stalked off. Simon took the opportunity to approach Isabelle. She refused to look at him and leaned her forehead against the wall. Silently, Simon just slipped his hand into her's. She held on tight.
…
Jonathan watched as Renage went about the Infirmary, putting together the cure. He didn't get too close, mostly because he feared knowing whether or not it was exactly the same as the one he and Max and Celeste had procured. He didn't know which would be worse; knowing that it was or knowing that it wasn't. He hated that. It was a far too human feeling.
Jace was nearby, sitting on a bed with Moriah in his lap. God, they both looked awful. Jonathan doubted if either one of them had slept in the past few days. Maybe he was wrong in assuming Jace's body would eventually give out on him and force him to sleep.
''She just 'came forward'?'' Jace asked quietly.
Jonathan nodded. ''Yeah.'' After we taunted her. After we made it clear we would not do business with her. Jonathan hated himself. Maybe he could've negotiated Renage down to just letting him help her hide from the Underworld, not get the Clave involved at all. He discarded the train of thought. Renage never would have trusted him for that.
But maybe something like it?
''They didn't have to accept.'' Jonathan watched as Jace glared at Renage. ''They- they could've come up with something else.''
Jonathan shrugged. ''Like what?''
Jace tightened his grip on Moriah. She whined, almost as if she too were voicing her unhappiness. ''It's because of the Inquest. They didn't like it was pushed back. Now it can be back on track.''
''I suppose.'' Jonathan couldn't imagine Clary bouncing back to 100% when she awoke, but even so, it wasn't like the Clave would care.
Jace was silent for a moment before saying, ''They want Renage to testify.''
Jonathan glanced at Moriah. She hadn't stopped looking at Renage since she had entered. Her knuckles were white from gripping her father's arm. He looked to Jace and nodded.
Jace said no more. His face was as hard and set and weary looking as it had been ever since this all began. Jonathan wondered if he lacked the physical capacity to be anymore worried and angry than he already was.
Further down the room, Geoffrey led Renage away. Magnus immediately went to Clary. He had been summoned to make sure Renage didn't try anything.
Maryse approached them. ''So far, no change.'' Jace nodded. ''You go be with her. I'll take Moriah.''
Jace stood, adjusting Moriah. She whined and clung to him. ''No, go to Maryse now. She won't let anything happen to you.'' He kissed her before handing her over.
Maryse turned so she could see Jace walk away, but still Moriah looked worriedly in the direction of Renage. Jonathan glanced at her. He flexed his fingers. To anyone else, it would've looked as though he was just scrapping his nails against his fingertips. I got it.
Moriah blinked at him. Then she turned her head to watch Jace.
Jonathan went over to Renage. Geoffrey and the Counsel were a little ways off, arguing about when to return to Idris. Jonathan had no doubt who was for it and who was against it. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth. ''You will pay for this.''
''I don't see why,'' Renage replied simply. ''I've done a good thing here. Aren't we as Downworlders supposed to always try and corporate with the Clave?''
''You won't get away with this.''
''I haven't done anything wrong. Neither has Geoffrey or Jia. Jia was so worried and careful. She took all the precautions. She even asked your mother if she thought this was a good idea.''
Jonathan felt blood rush in his ears. ''She did what?''
Renage risked a smile at him, pleased no doubt to see her words had the desired affect. ''She asked Jocelyn if it was a good idea to accept my offer. Now granted, I doubt your mother was happy that the help had to come from me, but really, what can a mother do when her child is in such a condition? It was her only option.''
She looked away and Jonathan followed her gaze. She was looking at Moriah. ''This way, everyone gets what they want.''
Hatred and anger boiled inside of him. He briefly considered snapping her neck right here and now. With the Counsel and Geoffrey nearby, getting away with it wasn't looking too good. But better he suffer those consequences rather than Renage testify. Though even if she were dead, the Inquest would still go on. All he would be doing is become an even primer example as to why demon blood in a Shadowhunter was dangerous.
He stayed where he was as Jia and Geoffrey led Renage away, presumably to some holding area in the Institute.
''How's Clary?'' Celeste spoke in his mind.
Jonathan cast a glance around the Infirmary. Everyone was occupied. He traipsed out. ''No change so far.''
''Did you tell Jace that we had gotten the cure?''
''No.'' Jonathan couldn't help the sneer on his face. ''You want him to kill me? Kill Jia?''
''I just wondered.''
''Just wondered if I had a death wish?''
''I don't wonder that. I know the answer.''
''Don't be rude.''
''Who's being rude about what?'' Max's voice broke in.
Jonathan frowned. ''Where are you?''
''Still in my room. Is my mom still around?''
''She's in the Infirmary.''
''She seem mad?''
''You're asking me?''
''Right. Forgot. I'll just wait. How's Clary?''
''No change,'' Celeste said.
''Are you there?''
''No.''
''Then how do you know?''
''Jonathan just told me.''
''Why'd you tell her first?''
''I was here first.''
''Knock it off, both of you.'' Jonathan rubbed his forehead. His head was starting to hurt. ''What is this, a conference call?''
''You are our call waiting,'' Max said.
''Both of you, beat it.'' He felt their presences disappear from his mind.
Jonathan walked down the hallway. He needed to go. He needed to get out of here. Max could tell him if Clary got better or worse, but he just needed to get out of here and not deal with Geoffrey and Jia and Renage and-
His heart sank as he saw Jocelyn and Lucian walking away from the library. Her.
Annoyance filled him. It was too late to turn around; the exit was this way. He wanted to walk by and ignore them, but something about seeing them- especially Jocelyn- hesitate slightly at the sight of him made him even angrier. She didn't want to see him. The mere sight of him caused her pain.
He looked her in the eye. He hated that he had her eyes. It made it impossible for him to look in the mirror.
Lucian, ever the bridge between Jocelyn and Clary, spoke to him. ''Have you just come from the Infirmary?''
His tone was normal enough, not that Jonathan was the best judge. But he could see his fist clenched, one arm on Jocelyn's. Lucian hated him. He always would. And he and his wife both would hate Moriah. Valentine had been wrong on many things, but one lesson he had taught Jonathan was true: he would forever be hated for what he was. That's how demons were supposed to be viewed.
It's how Moriah would be viewed.
He looked back at Jocelyn without replying to Lucian. He cocked his head at her. ''You hated me that much?''
She looked taken aback. ''What do you mean?''
''I wasn't even three when you left,'' he said. ''I never did a damn thing to hurt you. And you hated me. And now you hate Moriah.''
''Moriah-''
''What do you think that fairy is going to say at the Inquest?'' Jonathan demanded. ''Do you really think it will be anything good?''
''My daughter is dying,'' Jocelyn snapped. ''I had to do something.''
''You did something, alright. Sold out her family, that's what you did!''
''I never-''
'' 'The Law Is Hard, But It Is The Law'. You think they won't deal out some punishment for Clary and Jace when they convict Moriah? For caring about her? These are the people you ran from. They don't know mercy.''
Jocelyn took a step forward, to scream at him or hit him he didn't know. Lucian held her back. ''Both of you, shut up!''
''She'll never forgive you,'' Jonathan said. ''Clary will never forgive you. If she ever learns it was on your okay that Renage testified and she loses Moriah- she will never forgive you.''
''Shut your goddamn mouth,'' Jocelyn warned him.
''She's not dad, you know. She finds you standing over Moriah with a knife, she won't just shrug it off. She'll be pissed.''
The horror and anger that flicked across her face pleased Jonathan more than words could say. ''Go to hell.''
''See you there.''
He did leave then, walking away down the corridor. It wasn't until he was in the elevator and on his way down that he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He leaned against the wall, burying his face in his hands. Despite knowing she wouldn't answer, he couldn't help himself. Clary?
No reply.
…
The sound of thunder rumbled outside, even as the sun shone. Clary didn't dwell on it too much, mostly because she had other people to worry about.
Aster had caught up with her. He wasn't Sebastian anymore- or really, he wasn't just Sebastian anymore. It was Aster, Sebastian, Valentine, Renage, and anyone else Clary had met in her lifetime that she had been afraid of. Who had hurt her, her family. It was her worst nightmares, all walking as one presence to attack.
She pressed her back against the wall. A window was to her right, and she considered breaking though it. But to fall to her death? Would that be any better?
She gripped her sword tight. No. She couldn't run anymore. She had to stay. She had to fight. The darkness inside her had only delayed the inevitable. It couldn't help her anymore.
Now is that true?
Something inside of Clary tightened. She couldn't explain the presence. She couldn't explain the feeling of…something watching her. Of offering aid.
I can help you. If you let me.
How?
You know how. You know what to do. This is your worst nightmare. What are you afraid of becoming?
Clary's breath caught.
What you are most afraid of becoming is the only thing that will help you.
Aster's laugh echoed. As he and all her other fears approached, she knew she had no other options. What was she most afraid of becoming? Clary closed her eyes.
She saw Cèline, sarcastic and quick, looking at Valentine in fear.
She saw Stephen, so sure of his position, realizing the truth of everything he had believed in.
She saw her mother, bitting her lip and trying, trying so damn hard to figure a way out, finally fleeing.
She saw Valentine, claiming he loved his wife and family and yet sacrificing them for his cause.
She was afraid of being afraid, of realizing everything she believed was wrong, of giving up, of losing all she loved. What did all these things make her?
They make me me. The sound of thunder outside got louder. The wind picked up. Clary felt like she was grabbing at something, some cold container inside of her. She was lifting the lid. She was letting something out.
She was letting out the monster. Because monsters aren't afraid. They don't care if they are wrong. They never run. And no one can take anything away from them.
When Clary opened her eyes again, the hallway was dark. She thought it was because she was blocking the light from the window- and it was- but not her blocking the light. It was the thing behind her.
Aster stood stone still, staring at the creature. ''I don't understand,'' he whispered. ''I don't understand.''
Clary turned. A tall, bulking, black figure with wings was behind her, huge spikes and wings coming out of it's back. Deep inside her, Clary was afraid of this thing. But on the surface was something darker, something so very proud of herself and almost gleeful that this thing was here. It's yellow eyes glowed at her, and she knew it was waiting for her command.
''Somethings can't be understood and dissected, Aster,'' she said, turning back to him. ''Sometimes, things are the way they are. And all we can do is find a way to live with them. Or, in your case, die with them.'' She raised her sword at him.
The creature wasted no time. The only thing that would make this moment better, Clary reflected, was if Moriah and Jace were here too, to hear Aster's cries.
…
Everything went dark. It was as if she was underwater. Waves surrounded her, and she had to kick to the surface to finally catch her breath. Her ears pricked for sound, but wherever she was was strangely silent. She could tell from the air that it was a big room. The Infirmary?
A thought was nagging at her, memories of some battle. An attack. She clenched her fists, the soft fabric underneath her bringing her attention to the fact she was in a bed. She curled up tight on her side, mentally taking stock of any injuries she might have. Her neck ached and there was a dull pounding in her head. But no other injuries she could sense.
Slowly and painfully she pried her eyes open. Daylight was steaming in through a window across from her. She blinked into focus and made out the blurry outline of someone standing nearby, their head leaning against the door frame. She frowned, trying to make her mouth move.
Luke straightened up when he noticed her looking at him. ''Clary?'' He came over to her. ''Clary?'' He stroked her hair back, and Clary closed her eyes at the sensation. ''Jocelyn, she's awake.''
Clary opened her eyes again. Her mom was there now, kneeling in front of her on the floor. ''Hey,'' she greeted her. She grabbed her hand and kissed it. ''Oh, Clary. Oh my Clary.''
Clary noticed the tired look to them both, and how her mother looked as though she'd been crying. Questions were nagging at her, but she was too tired to form them. There were only two things she needed to know. ''J-Jace…''
''He's alright. He's right here.'' Jocelyn inclined her head forward. Clary squeezed her mother's hand before gathering her strength and sitting up. ''Clary, you shouldn't-''
The room spun for a second. The thin sheet she was covered with fell away and Clary realized she was wearing a thin tank top. It stuck to her sweat covered body. Sitting up increased her feeling of sickness but it was worth it when she saw Jace.
He was asleep sitting up, leaning against the railing of the bed next to her's. He looked peaceful. It was selfish to wake him but Clary was too tired to care. ''Jace.'' Her voice was barley a croak, but in an instant he was awake, staring at her with a look of awe and relief.
They wasted no words. He sat down next to her and she clung to him, her chest feeling tight with relief as he wrapped his arms around her. ''I'm here, Clary. I'm here.''
Clary clenched her fists, fabric from his shirt caught up in them. You're here and you're safe. You're here and you're safe. Her eyes were threatening to close, but she had another question needing an answer. ''Moriah?''
''She's good,'' he answered her. ''She's with Maryse now.''
''Good.'' She's safe too. They are both safe. But more thoughts were nagging at her, plot holes leading up to now. ''C-Celeste? The others?''
''Everyone's fine.''
''Okay.'' Clary couldn't fight the exhaustion anymore. She let her head fall against Jace. ''Mom? Luke?''
''We're right here, Clary,'' Luke said.
Clary could only manage a slight nod of acknowledgement. Jace moved to lean back against the headboard. With his fingers in her hair, she allowed herself to slip away again.
…
Robert felt an annoying pressure in his chest. An anxious feeling, wondering what next was going to go wrong. He had just seen the Counsel and Geoffrey and the prisoner off. Now that it was clear the cure worked, Jia couldn't delay any longer.
He knew, logically, that Jia hadn't wanted to accept the fairy's offer. Though the fairy couldn't lie, there was no guarantee that as soon as they let her near Clary she wouldn't try some new, horrible thing to do to her. But Jia had had to accept. Not only because it was at the time Clay's best chance, but because having the fairy testify for the Inquest was too good a chance to pass up.
The Inquest. The Clave was nothing but fools if they all thought for one second having the fairy Renage in Idris was a good thing. Robert had seen the look in her eyes as she told her story, the way she talked about Moriah. She had come perhaps for the protection she claimed to seek, but also for Moriah. Either to try and whisk her away or to ensure her destruction.
Robert sighed. He gave himself a moment to just lean against the wall in the hallway in weariness. Jia might be a friend, but she was the Counsel. Her job was to conduct this Inquest. And she would conduct it as the Clave wished, which was to make sure Moriah was condemned.
If Jonathan and Isabelle and Simon had come into the library only an hour or two sooner, Renage might not have had to be involved. Or, maybe she still would be. This way the Clave have the guise of it being for Clary's sake that they accepted her offer. But would the Clave have offered her protection from her enemies anyway in exchange for her testimony?
Robert didn't know. And it was too painful to think about. The past couldn't be changed, and so they must all look to the future. To Moriah's future.
Robert continued down the hall, but paused when he saw Jace. The look on his face gave him a moment of panic. ''How's Clarissa?''
''She's okay,'' he said. ''Still not great, but she's getting better. Jocelyn and Luke are with her now.''
Robert nodded. ''Maryse has Moriah in the library,'' he informed him.
''Yeah,'' Jace said breathlessly. ''Thanks.''
He went to walk past, but Robert stopped him. He knew that look on his face. That stubborn-shutdown-block-everyone-out face. It was a coin flip whether he inherited that from his mother or his father. ''Jace.''
''Yes?''
''She's alright. Both Clarissa and Moriah are alright.''
''I know.'' Jace averted his gaze. Robert could tell he was bitting his cheek. ''They're fine.''
''They are.''
''They're fine. Clary's- Clary's going to be fine.'' Jace buried his head in his hands. ''She's going to be fine.''
His shoulders shook as he cried, whatever dam he had built up to hide his emotions finally giving way. Robert watched him silently for a moment before reaching for him, pulling him close and putting his hand on his head. ''You did well. You acted as you needed to and everything is fine.''
Jace made no response, but just continued to cry into Robert's shoulder in a way he had never let himself before. He was seventeen goddamn years old- he shouldn't have had to go through this.
A memory tugged at Robert. One of the last times he had seen Michael had been at the wake for Marcus and Stephen and Cèline. Or officially, just for Marcus and Stephen. Cèline's death had been by suicide. Suicides did not get wakes.
Michael had known something was wrong. Three family members did not all die at once in the night. Marcus' heart attack at the news of Stephen's death and seeing his daughter-in-law dead in the library could be understood, but Stephen being overrun by vampires? Cèline killing herself- 8 months pregnant- at the very news of it? Not for one second doubting it? Meticulous Cèline not demanding proof?
Michael had insisted the timeline hadn't made sense, that Cèline hadn't had time to receive the news of Stephen's death and then kill herself. He had insisted and argued, yelling at them all for their lack of concern over the discrepancies. ''There is not a damn thing Cèline and Stephen wouldn't have done for any of you,'' he had shouted. My god, these people watched your children for you! They would do anything for them! And you won't even honor them in death? Cèline is buried at the fucking crossroads!''
Robert hated that that was his last clear memory of Michael. He hated that night, how that fight had ended. He hated his actions, his stubborn refusal to even consider any other possibility for their deaths. It had been that fight, those words about doing anything for their friends and their children that led to Robert's insistence they take in whom they believed to be Michael Wayland's son. It was almost laughable that it was Stephen's and Cèline's son he took in instead.
He had done wrong by them all, he knew that. And he knew without a doubt, had he and Maryse died, Stephen and Cèline would've taken Alec in without a moment's hesitation. They would've protected him. Since he had come to live with them, Robert had always tried to do right by Jace. But now, with Clary and him having a storyline so similar to Stephen and Cèline, and on the brink of losing their child…he'd be damned if made the same mistakes he had made back then. He would not blindly follow another power.
…
Clary had spent a few fretful hours drifting in and out of consciousness. She was so damn tired she only vaguely paid attention to what was going on around her. She had felt Jace lay her down awhile ago, leaving no doubt to take care of Moriah. Her parents had been here, but she thought now they must be sleeping somewhere.
It was dark in the Infirmary when she awoke again, and this time she actually felt awake. And cold. She sat up with a shiver, a pain pounding behind her eyes. God, she hated Aster.
She looked to her left and realized she was right about her parents being asleep- just not about the 'somewhere'. They were on the bed Jace had been on earlier, Luke with his arm around Jocelyn.
Jace. Moriah. There was this horrible anxious knot inside of Clary at the thought of them. She had to see them.
Carefully she untangled her legs from the sheet. She stood up, her bare feet now on the cold tile. She hugged her elbows for warmth, wishing for sweatpants and a sweater as opposed to the tank top and shorts she was wearing. She had to clamp her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
She hesitated before leaving, looking at her parents. She didn't want them to worry upon waking up and seeing her gone, but they were smart enough to guess where'd she go. She wondered how long they'd been here, and whether or not they had interacted at all with Moriah.
Moriah. Oh, how she needed to see her baby girl.
Clary left then, being sure to slip out the Infirmary door quickly and quietly.
In the hall, she hesitated again slightly, realizing that her hands were trembling. She wondered briefly if she had the stamina to make it to Jace's room. She smirked at her doubt. I think I can handle a walk.
She went slowly, the quiet nighttime of the Institute making it feel almost like a different place. The cold in her only increased, as did her weariness. But she didn't care. It was worth it when she reached Jace's door. She opened it slowly.
The lamps on in the hallway cast just enough light to illuminate Jace and Moriah on the bed. Moriah was asleep on top of Jace, Jace with a hand on her back. He must've sensed her presence. He opened his eyes and began to sit up in alarm before realizing who it was. ''Clary?''
''Hey.'' Clary smiled. Some feeling tugged at her, relief at seeing them both safe here as opposed to something else. She closed the door behind her. ''Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.''
''You didn't.'' She came over and he moved over on the bed to make room for her, being mindful of Moriah. ''You okay?''
''Yeah,'' Clary assured him. She laid down next to him, her aching body practically gasping in relief. ''Lonely in the Infirmary.''
She could feel him place a hand on her arm. ''You're cold.''
''Cold there, too.'' She moved closer to him, relishing in his body heat. Her eyes fell on Moriah. ''Is she okay?''
''Yeah, she's good. She's sleeping now."
"She wasn't before?"
"Not really."
There was something in his tone that suggested he didn't want to elaborate on details now. Clary turned slightly to look at him. ''And you?''
His golden eyes seemed to sparkle in the dark. ''And me what?''
''Have you slept?''
''Like a baby,'' he responded. He glanced at Moriah. ''Well, a different baby.''
''Hmm.'' Clary decided she could ask for the truth later. There were a lot of things she had to ask, she realized. Everything from what happened on the hunt to how she woke up.
They stopped talking as Moriah fidgeted. She blearily opened her eyes and probably would've closed them again had she not seen Clary. She sat herself up on her hands so suddenly, Jace had to tighten his hand on her back to keep her from rolling off of him.
That loving ache whenever she saw Moriah ran through Clary again. "Hi, baby girl," she whispered. Moriah stared at her. Then she smiled and made a noise in her throat, almost a giggle.
Clary let out a laugh of her own. "Are you happy?"
Moriah continued to smile at her. She turned to Jace, as if looking to see if he knew Clary was here. She was smiling so big they could see all her teeth. Clary realized they had never seen her show such emotion before. It was the first time.
Jace tucked one of her curls behind her ear. "Are you happy to see mommy?"
That was another first. She was mommy. Mom. A mom. Moriah's mom.
Moriah reached for Clary. Clary pulled her close, stubbornly ignoring another shiver that went through her at embracing Moriah's naturally cold body. Moriah wrapped her arms around her neck and laid between Jace and her. Jace seemed to realize that Moriah's coldness would only further Clary's, so he grabbed the blanket at the bottom of the bed and covered them all.
When he laid back down, Clary noticed the look on his face. He was worried about something. That anxious knot seemed to tightened in her again. She laid her head on his arm. "You okay?"
The slight hesitation let her know the answer. "Yeah," he replied. His glance went to Moriah, who was already falling back asleep against Clary. ''We'll talk tomorrow.''
Worry about what the subject would be built up in Clary, but she forced it down. She didn't want to ruin this moment with her family.
She curled up tighter against Jace and held Moriah closer, closing her eyes. She felt Jace kiss her forehead. ''You okay?''
Clary smiled. ''Yeah,'' she said. ''Just tired. But don't worry; I promise I'll wake up.''
"You better," he whispered softly in reply. He wrapped his arms around her and Moriah both, sending a wonderful feeling of warmth through her. They were safe. All three of them. That was all that mattered.
…
Me: I am so proud of this chapter. I really have the story exactly where I want it, and am looking forward to writing more. I hope you look forward to reading more!
Thank you for reading! If you have time, please leave a review!
