Clary slowly reached out to turn off the shower. The sudden silence in the bathroom pressed into their ears. Jace edged the glass door open, bracing for an attack. When none came, he slipped out of the shower stall and ducked down for the seraph blade he had left on the floor.

Clary heard him whisper, then a soft white light illuminated the space. Clary peered around the edge of the fogged glass door. Jace was standing in a half crouch, his glowing blade poised for combat, with a puddle of water forming at his feet. He looked like The angel Raziel risen from the lake of glass. Under her hand, she could see the long scratches that claws had dug into the glass door. Whatever had made them was gone. She slid out of the stall to join Jace, quickly scooping up their gear jackets and belts from the floor. She handed Jace his and they hastily threw their gear on over their wet clothes. When they were as ready as time allowed, they stood together, peering out into the dark hallway.

As they began to creep out of the bathroom, Jace suddenly collapsed like a marionette with cut strings. His blade skittered away, banging into the wall and leaving a dent in the baseboard. Clary shouted his name, just barely managing to stop his head from hitting the ground as he fell. He was still breathing, though the sound of it was labored as though he were trying to keep from suffocating.

Men dressed in black Shadowhunter gear rushed in, their faces lit up by ghostly witchlight. They pulled Clary to her feet and yanked her out of the bathroom, her unlaced tennis shoes screeching as she slipped on the wet tile. She was roughly deposited in the middle of her living room, burning her palms as she caught herself on the rug. Clary reached for her weapons but discovered they had been taken by the men.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Clary yelled. There was a familiar blond man standing with his back to her, casually observing the pictures of her family hung up on the wall. He turned to her; a small smile formed at his mouth. The man was tall and broad, handsome —even with the shadow of stubble on his face.

"Clarissa," Valentine smiled. "I do hate to involve you in this, but it seems unavoidable at this point." Before she could speak again, a dark cloth bag was forced down over her face. She felt her hands being yanked behind her and fastened with what felt like strong plastic ties. "Carefully, please," she heard Valentine admonish.

Her hair blew back suddenly as a gush of ozone scented wind pushed against her. Clary recognized the scent of a Portal being opened in front of her. She frantically dug her heels in, trying with everything in her to become heavy and unwieldy. She struggled and yelled, managing to kick the man holding her in the groin before he angrily picked her up and unceremoniously tossed her over his shoulder. They disappeared into the Portal with a bright flash. The rest of the Circle followed, leaving Valentine behind in the dark house.

Valentine walked over to the couch where the Circle members had dumped Jace. His son was drenched, his pale hair plastered to his forehead with bright fever spots of blood in his cheeks. His eyes were closed but moved rapidly beneath his lids as though he were having a nightmare. Valentine reached down and touched the tip of his stele to the cuff of runes on his wrist, lifting the vision that his son was trapped in.

Jace sat up with a gasp, his hand immediately slashing out with the dagger from his belt. Valentine caught his wrist before the edge of the blade could cut his face. Jace met his eyes, his hand releasing the weapon reflexively as he recognized who he was attacking. A moment later, Jace's eyes hardened and he pulled away from his father's grip. Valentine straightened, slipping his stele and Jace's dagger into the inside pocket of his jacket. Valentine narrowed his black eyes at him.

"Get up. You've already wasted enough time with your little detour." He reprimanded as he turned to the Portal.

Jace took a moment to shake off the aftereffects of the vision. This time he had only been trapped in the suffocating darkness, thankfully not having to witness the torturing of a loved one. Jace got to his feet, casting his eyes around for Clary. She was nowhere to be found. Jace stopped in his tracks.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly. Valentine hooded his eyes and turned back.

"Where is whom?" he asked, a hint of mockery coloring his voice. Jace gritted his teeth.

"Clary. What did you do to her?" Jace stepped closer to Valentine. "I swear to the Angel if you've hurt her…" Valentine laughed loudly. They were face to face now.

"Why would I ever hurt Clary?" he asked softly. "My own daughter?" Jace's heart thumped once, hard against his ribs. He tried to speak but his throat had suddenly become dry. Valentine looked down the length of him at his wet and bedraggled clothes, at his bare chest under his gear jacket and the bruises in the shape of a mouth on his throat. "Perhaps I should have kept a closer eye on you though? Protected her from you?" he whispered. Jace stepped back as though struck.

"I haven't done anything to her," he breathed. Valentine raised an eyebrow.

"No? You're sure?"

Jace flushed and looked away. Valentine laughed without humor. "And I always thought Jonathan would be the one I had to monitor for depravity." Jace glared back at him.

"I didn't know—" he began, but Valentine silenced him with a raised hand. Valentine turned from his son and approached the Portal, the wind from it blowing open his dark jacket like the wings of a crow taking flight. He looked down at his watch, a frown creasing his brow.

"I imagine the Clave will be tracking you as we speak. I doubt it will take much longer for them to come upon this house. You sure left a big enough mess behind you." He said in an undertone. He looked back up at Jace and gestured to the Portal. "After you." Jace did not move.

"You still haven't told me where Clary is."

Valentine narrowed his black eyes at him, true anger beginning to boil his blood. A throbbing pain had begun behind his right eye earlier when Jonathan had come back to the Manor without his brother in tow, and the pain had since tripled. Valentine had known that the night ahead would be long enough without the setback of having to track down his youngest son before the Clave did. Indeed, he would not have managed it as quickly without the help of the binding spell that he had put on Jace. The demon tied to him had found him effortlessly; closeted away in the home of someone he had least expected…and yet it had still taken too long. The Clave was run by fools but they were hardly incompetent. They were running out of time, and this petulant boy was dragging his feet and asking stupid questions...Valentine took a calming breath, urging the anger to dissipate. So far, all had worked out fortuitously in his favor. He reminded himself that he was now one step closer to obtaining the Mortal Cup. He prayed for patience as the headache continued to hammer away behind his eye.

"She is an integral part of the plan now." Valentine murmured. He smiled slightly. "Admittedly, I had not thought to utilize her, but now I foresee that she will be very useful. Perhaps in more ways than one. I thank you for that, Jace." He nodded to his son and once again gestured to the Portal at his back, as a fist of dread slowly crushed Jace's heart. Valentine had taken Clary. "Now will you come of your own free will? Or do things need to get messy?" He asked coldly, sliding his stele out of his jacket. Jace shot him a look of purest loathing before striding forward to the Portal. He stopped before the shimmering surface and looked sideways over at his father. The multicolored lights danced across his pale face like the Aurora Borealis over snow.

"Where to?" Jace asked contemptuously. Valentine encircled his son's shoulders with his large arm, his grip tight on Jace's bicep.

"Home," he said, and then they stepped forward through the Portal together.