Hey guys. Sorry I have been missing in action. I kind of ran into a wall with where I wanted to go with the story, then life happened. But after some brainstorming this weekend I think I have a direction now. Be kind, I'm kinda rusty.
A Snake Inside Morgenstern Manor: Chapter 43
January 9, 2021
Clary could hardly believe her eyes. This was Jace wasn't it? He looked feral; covered in blood and grime with the most haunted expression she had ever seen on a human face. His tight black combat gear was torn in multiple places, his light hair streaked with dirt. This did not look like the cheeky boy that she had kissed under the bridge in Alicante. This was a man who looked as though his soul had been put through a meat grinder.
Clary looked around them in the dirty alleyway, aware that she was looking upon what the Clave would consider a massive break of Accords Law. Though Jace had killed the vampires in self defense, would that matter to the Clave? Would his father Valentine have enough sway with the Consul to get him out of trouble?
"Clary," her name on his lips sounded exhausted. Jace leaned back against the brick wall behind him, trying to catch his breath. "Do you come here often or?" His voice trailed off as his legs gave way and he slid down the wall.
"Whoa, careful," Clary said as she hastily tucked her weapon away and went to his side. She threw his arm around her shoulders and got him back to his feet. He swayed almost drunkenly. Clary could see multiple bite marks at his throat; the vampires appeared to have chewed on him a bit before she had arrived. "We should get you to the Institute, you've probably lost too much blood." Jace drew away from her, his eyes suddenly alert.
"No! I mean, no," he lowered his voice. "I can't go to the Institute...I'm fine, really." With effort he focused on her face. There was a line creasing her brow with concern. "Couple iratzes and I'll be good as new." He assured. Clary narrowed her eyes at him.
"If you say so," She said slowly. She then reached a hand around to the back pocket of her jeans, feeling for her stele. Her fingers soon became frantic. "Oh crap," she checked her other pockets in vain. "Crap, crap! I must have dropped my stele somewhere. Do you have yours?" She asked. Jace sagged sideways into her, making Clary's knees tremble slightly.
"It was confiscated," he slurred indignantly. Clary braced against him, hyper aware of his weight against her and the smell of his skin. Like spicy cloves and too much blood.
"Right," she said slowly. "Well let's get you some help." She drew him away from the wall and they started slowly off towards the busy street.
Clary stuck two fingers between her teeth and whistled loudly in Jace's ear. He flinched away and held a hand up to shield his eyes from the oncoming headlights of a yellow taxi. Clary deposited him into the plastic covered back seat as gently as she could manage. He still banged his head on the opposite window, for all her efforts. The cab driver looked back at them warily.
"He isn't going to hurl is he?" He asked, then pointed to a notice on the dashboard. "Cause that cleaning fee is non-negotiable." Clary smiled grimly.
"Don't worry," she slid in to the seat next to Jace under his legs. "We'll be on our best behavior." The cabbie raised an eyebrow doubtfully; they both looked as though they had just been fighting at a BDSM club. However, he didn't comment as he turned to the front and pressed the mile counter.
"So where to?" Clary patted one of Jace's legs in her lap and tried to keep the worry out of her voice.
"To Brooklyn," she said.
Luke's truck was absent when they got out of the cab in front of Clary's house. She looked up and saw that all the windows were dark. She breathed a sigh of relief as she helped Jace out of the cab and passed the driver his money. She hadn't been sure what she was planning on telling them when they had arrived.
Jace seemed to be able to stand and walk more without guidance now. She kept an eye on him though, worried by his expression. He wouldn't meet her eyes as they climbed some stairs and entered the dark house. Clary flipped on a light and Jace got the overall impression of warmth and vibrant colors.
There were paintings done in bright fuchsia and jewel toned turquoise. Fat, squashy cushions softened the corners of mismatched furniture that looked like flea market finds. Dark green ferns dominated the corners and hung from macrame planters. Overall, it looked like a picture from a bohemian travel magazine. Jace thought that it suited what he knew of Clary. Which admittedly, wasn't much.
"Uh, the bathroom is that way. If you wanna get cleaned up." She pointed to an open room in the dark hallway. Jace nodded and turned away from her.
Once inside, Jace leaned his back against the closed door, trying to keep the panic from overtaking him. What was happening with the Clave now? Had they gone directly to the Manor house after he had slipped away in the graveyard? Surely, they knew who was behind the attack at the Bone City. The Silent Brothers did not seem to have any trouble recognizing Jonathan. And what about the Mortal Sword? How long would it take for them to notice it was missing? Were the Shadowhunters mobilizing right now in Alicante to arrest Valentine and Jonathan? Were they mobilizing at the Institute here to arrest him? Jace reached up and took ahold of his hair in anguish. How could he have done this? He had killed Silent Brothers…the Clave would flay him alive when they caught him. And then there was Clary… She wouldn't be helping him if she knew what a traitorous killer he was.
Jace looked over his shoulder at his reflection in the bronze mirror hanging above the sink. His face was stark white with streaks of blood smeared on his skin like war paint. His eyes were hard and nearly unrecognizable. Why had he done this? For loyalty to a man that taught and fostered in him nothing but violence? To save an unvirtuous brother that ridiculed and hurt him every chance he got? Jace sneered at his reflection. Fucking coward, he thought to himself venomously. His fist came up and shattered the face in the mirror. Pain burned in his knuckles as blood streamed down between his fingers. The door flew open.
"Jace! Are you-" Clary stopped dead. She looked from him to the shattered mirror. She started to say something about rude houseguests but stopped when she saw his expression. Then she slowly reached out and took his hand, gently removing a piece of glass that had become wedged there. He couldn't force himself to look at her. Couldn't stomach that she was treating him with such kindness. He turned from her, pulling his hand out of hers roughly.
Clary released him and watched as he leaned into the shower and turned the water on. With his back to her, he shrugged off his gear jacket. It fell to the floor with a thump; Shadowhunter gear was much heavier than it looked. He took off his weapons belt next, carelessly tossing it aside with no regard to the blades as the edges scraped together. Jace toed off his boots and kicked them aside. He then stepped into the stall, still dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt.
Jace stood under the pour of cold water, closing his eyes as it rinsed the sweat and blood from his face and hair. It streamed down him, sluicing the dirt from his body and the sin from his hands. His mouth twisted bitterly; the water couldn't reach his soul though. That would always be filthy.
Clary felt her cheeks warming. She should probably give him some privacy, he looked like he might need some time alone. She turned to go, her hand on the door knob.
"Wait," Jace said quietly.
Clary pushed the bathroom door closed and leaned back against it. Steam started to fog up the remaining glass in the mirror's frame and lay heavy on the air above them. The loose strands of her red hair began to curl at her temples as she waited. But he didn't say anything else, just watched as the blood tinged water circled the drain at his feet and was carried away below them. She took a few cautious steps forward, trying to read from his posture what he wanted from her.
Finally, she stepped out of her tennis shoes, and removed her own weapons belt. She took everything out of her pockets, watching the way his shoulders tightened as she approached him. With a breath to steady herself, she stepped into the shower with him and closed the glass door, sealing them off from the world. Jace turned to her.
He was soaked. His white shirt clinging to him like a second skin, his jeans heavy with water and riding low on his hips. He had goosebumps along his arms, but that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. He reached up and pushed his pale hair out of his eyes, making it stick up messily.
Clary stepped forward until she was under the spray with him, allowing the water to run down her face and hair. Jace backed away to give her more room. He couldn't stop himself from watching the water run down her long neck in rivulets and soak through her tank top. She didn't seem to be wearing a bra.
He looked back up at her face, noting with alarm that she had been watching him closely. She didn't look mad, however. The expression in her eyes drew him closer, and although they were not quite touching, he could feel the heat coming off her skin like waves beating into the shoreline. She slid her hands up along his arms, feeling the muscles there grow taut with tension as she listened to the uneven sound of his breathing.
Jace stood still as her soft hands explored him, noting that she touched him with the same intensity and reverence that he had seen her use when drawing with pastels. Her artist hands slid deftly over his chest, along his collarbone and lingered over his heart beat. They slid lower and lower, her fingertips tracing over the stark black lines of his Marks that were clearly visible through his shirt. Clary leaned in then and tasted the damp skin at his throat, as her hands slipped up underneath the edge of the wet fabric at his waist.
She pulled away suddenly, a small gasp leaving a breathy kiss against his skin. He opened his eyes to look down at her, but she was lifting the edge of his shirt. Jace looked away, knowing what she was seeing and not wanting to witness her expression.
Clary's hand went to her mouth as she looked at his naked abdomen. He was covered in jagged cuts. They were healing slowly and painfully without the help of healing runes.
"Who did this to you?" She whispered.
Jace didn't answer. He had clenched his teeth together tightly, a stark white line appearing along his jaw. He was abruptly done with his life. Done with remembering the pain that he had endured and in turn had inflicted on others. Done with being a cursed Morgenstern… He shook his head, not realizing that he had been holding his breath until his chest began to ache.
"Just help me forget," he breathed.
Jace reached for her at the same time that she pulled him closer. His hands cupped her face and he kissed her blindly, ignoring the water that poured on them from above. She groaned, low in her throat before taking the edge of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He shed it quickly and dropped it on the shower floor. Their mouths collided again as their hands eagerly resumed their explorations of each other. Her palms slid up his wet back and left burning trails of fire in the wake of her fingers.
Clary tasted of sunlight, and just a hint of hazelnut coffee. His fingers tangled in her wet hair as he parted her lips with his to taste her even further. With a groan he pulled her closer against him, the front of her drenched shirt creating hot friction against his torso. His hands ran down the length of her soft curves and gripped her butt tightly. With no effort, he lifted her up against him and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She clung to him, arms looped around his neck and heart racing so hard it hurt.
Jace turned and pressed Clary against the shower wall, his mind blissfully empty and his soul quiet for once. Her strong legs around his waist brought up vivid images of being even closer, without barriers. She seemed to be picturing the same because she drew his bottom lip in between her teeth and nipped him hard enough to hurt. His sharp intake of breath made her open her eyes to see his expression, and Jace knew then, looking back at her, that he would do anything she asked of him.
"Tell me what happened," she murmured against his lips.
Jace's breath rushed out of him as the images of carnage at the Silent City returned with dispassionate force. He closed his eyes against them, leaning his forehead down into the hollow protection of her shoulder.
"You'd never speak to me again," he murmured, almost to himself.
Before she could reply, Jace gasped loudly as though stuck in the ribs with a blade. He nearly dropped her then as pain lanced through the runes at his left wrist.
"Jace, what-" Clary asked, steadying herself back on her feet. But the lights in the bathroom had suddenly gone out.
She fell silent as the pain in his wrist increased and shot up his arm like a heart attack. Jace looked around wildly in the dark, trying to hear over the sounds of the running water, his right hand clenched over his opposite wrist in an attempt to stifle the pain.
"Shh, stay behind me." Jace told her quietly.
Before she could reply, they heard the door to the bathroom slowly creak open.
There was something on the other side of the shower door, Jace could hear it moving. He cursed, regretting that his weapons were out of reach on the bathroom floor. They waited, hardly daring to breathe, when long fingernails slowly scratched down the length of the glass door.
