She woke in an unfamiliar bed. It was not her own, not the one at Magnus' or at the Institute. It was the infirmary at the Institute. Isabelle was perched on the bed across from her, her head resting on her knees.
"Izzy." She sat up, her head going fuzzy, a high noise ringing in her ears.
Izzy's brown eyes widened, and she shot up from the bed. She was still in pajamas, a silk pink robe wrapped around her. Her hair was pulled back by a thick headband. "Thank the Angel. I was worried sick." She handed her a glass of water.
"What…What am I doing here?"
Izzy's shoulders slumped, her features softening. "You don't remember?" Eliza shook her head. "Declan brought you here around five this morning."
Eliza spit out her water. "Declan? As in, my vampire ex-boyfriend?" She didn't remember seeing him. In fact, the last time she remembered seeing him was the celebration in Alicante. Almost two months ago.
Izzy nodded slowly. "He said he found you wandering around covered in ichor, muttering about-." She stopped herself, her eyes narrowing. "Anyways, you were unconscious by the time he got you here. You had a fever and were super sweaty. And you really were head to toe in ichor. You might want to shower before returning to civilization."
Eliza finished off the water, putting it on the table. Izzy asked what the last thing she remembered was. "Uh, I remember being with Luke and Clary and then I was at Pandemonium-."
"You went out without me? Rude."
"There were some Croucher demons. Twelve, I think. That's the last thing I remember."
Izzy's eyebrows were raised, and she looked undoubtedly like her mother. "Twelve demons? And you just left them there…?"
She shook her head, remembering how good it felt to kill them. The smooth feeling of her seraph blades slicing into their skin. "I killed them."
"All of them?"
She nodded. "Yeah. All of them."
Izzy's eyes were clouded, expression unreadable. She said nothing for a few moments, a look of hard thought settling on her face. It was soon replaced by one of her easy smiles and brighter eyes. "Get cleaned up and we'll go get something to eat. I'm sure you're hungry."
Izzy walked to the door of the infirmary, no doubt to go change clothes herself. "Isabelle." Eliza called. She turned, her hands on the frame of the doorway. "Is Jace-?"
Her face softened, mouth downturned. "He isn't here, Liz. I'm sorry."
She managed a smile, despite the bitter seed growing in her chest. "Good. Then we don't have to worry about inviting him to breakfast."
All throughout breakfast, her phone rang. Clary. Her mom. Luke. A circulation of the three of them. Texts came through. Luke and Clary had ratted her out to Jocelyn and now all three of them were blowing up her phone to make sure she was okay.
To each one, she sent a brief message to say that she was fine and at breakfast with Isabelle. It didn't shut them up, but the worried words were somewhat assuaged.
"You should probably tell Magnus." Isabelle said through a mouth-full of pancakes. "About whatever happened to you last night."
Eliza looked over at her through the table. She wasn't as hungry as she had thought she would be. The bacon and eggs in front of her didn't look appealing in the least. "I'm fine."
Izzy rolled her eyes. "Liz, you went full on butcher last night. From what it sounds like, you went on a demon killing spree and you don't even remember it."
"It isn't a big deal, Isabelle. You know how it is when you're fighting demons. You black out the fight, it goes so fast."
"You didn't just black out the fight, Liz. You blacked out the entire night. You need to tell Magnus. He can help you."
Her cheeks felt hot, her nostrils flaring. She pushed down whatever words were springing forth. She couldn't yell at Isabelle. She wouldn't. "When he gets back." She promised. "I'll tell him when he gets back. I don't want to ruin their trip."
Izzy nodded, clearly approving of her plan. "So, are you and Jace gonna break up?"
Eliza's head jerked up. She stared back at Isabelle with hard eyes. "Excuse me?"
Izzy dropped her fork. "It's a legitimate question. You two are never around each other lately, I know you're fighting a lot. You two have gone through so much and-."
She cut her off. "Isabelle, to be frank, I do not want to talk about this. Whatever is happening between Jace and I is between the two of us, but to be honest, I don't even know what's going on. I can't begin to know what's going on. He refuses to speak to me, and he's become as cruel as he was when we first met." The Seelie Queen's words echoed in her head. "Maybe he's realized who I am, what I am. Jace could have any girl he wants. Why would he want me?" Demon blood, daughter of Valentine. Sister of the murderer of his brother. Monster, liar, demon child.
They were not the same. Jace was light, he was good. Angel blood and sunlight. She was darkness, evil and wrong. It had been doomed from the moment they first saw each other. To think otherwise was ridiculous.
If there was a way to save them, she didn't know it. She wanted to find hope, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. She loved him fiercely, more than you were supposed to love someone else. It was a terrible love, terrible and all-consuming. Standing in the ruins of it was to stand in the middle of a field you yourself had succumbed to the flames and then wondering aloud why it had burnt.
Isabelle was staring back at her, almost as if she didn't recognize her anymore. For months, she had watched Eliza pine after Jace, watch Jace pine after Eliza, even when they had been supposedly related. For weeks, she had watched them act blissfully in love. And now, she was to watch them fall apart. Isabelle knew all that Isabelle was to know: every lie, every action that Eliza had committed had been for the sake of Jace, Clary, and the Lightwood children. Everything she did was to protect them. Somewhere along the way, she had lost herself. From truly losing herself to becoming whatever person sat in front of Isabelle that morning.
Eliza reached over the table, putting her hand on top of Isabelle's. "Don't worry." She said. "Everything will be all right. In the end, we will all be where fate wants us."
Isabelle was at a concert. What a horribly mundane thing to be subject to. She had all but begged her to go along, even adding in that Simon said Jace would be in attendance. The promise of that made her want to go even less. Izzy had sashayed from the Institute in a silvery dress, her hair done up elaborately. Before she had gone, Eliza made her swear not to tell Jace about the previous night. He couldn't know that she had blacked out and gone on a demon killing spree. "Not that he'll care." She had added. "He doesn't anymore, care about me. But don't tell him. Don't tell anyone."
And so, Izzy had promised not to tell and had left, dizzy-eyed for vampire Simon. The Institute was quiet. So quiet it disturbed her peace of mind. She traded her previous home for that of her current, a long cab ride back to Brooklyn where her most loyal- and hungry- companion awaited her return.
So suddenly Chairman Meow pounced on her once she was through the door, clinging onto her leg. She held him to her chest, scratching the top of his head. "I missed you." She whispered. She put food in his bowl and gave him fresh water.
She was about to settle into a movie on the couch when a knock came on the door. She looked curiously back at the door. Anyone important enough knew Magnus was out of town and no one would be knocking for her.
Unless…
Heart moving erratically, she got up from the couch, whispering for Chairman Meow to stay put. She didn't have any weapons handy. She pulled the door open quickly. Just as fast, her heart fell.
"Clary." She sighed. "I wasn't expecting you."
Her sister was a little damp, despite the raincoat. "I know. Uh, Isabelle called me."
Damn it, Isabelle. One job. You had one job, she thought. "I'm sure that was enlightening. What did she tell you?"
Clary did not disclose. "Get dressed." She ordered, sounding unusually bossy.
"I am dressed."
Her sister looked her over, clearly displeased with her appearance. "Then change clothes. We're going to a concert."
It clicked. Isabelle had not disclosed their secret, only that she and Jace were not on good terms. And Jace was at Simon's concert.
"Clary, I really don-."
"Jeez, shut up and listen to me, okay?" Clary snapped. Eliza took a step back. "Whatever twisted notion you have in your head about you and Jace, get rid of it. Izzy told me what you said this morning. I know what the Seelie Queen said got to you. I know you think you're some kind of monster, that you're like Jonathan, but you aren't. And Jace loves you. He loves you so much it's kind of terrifying to watch because everyone knows he would do anything for you. He'd kill for you, die for you. So, whatever is going on, we're going to fix it."
She wasn't sure how to respond. Clary had never spoken so curtly to her before. "I'm scared." She admitted quietly. "I don't want to lose him."
Clary gave her a kind smile. "You won't. Let's get you into something that's gonna knock his socks off."
It was an hour later when they were arriving at a place called the Alto Bar. The rain was pouring down by the time they got inside, and Eliza thanked the stars she had thought to bring an umbrella. It had shielded them from some of the water damage. The ends of her hair were sticking to her neck in damp desperation and her legs were wet.
Clary had stuck to her promise, putting her in an outfit that was sure to stun. Clothes had been pulled from her closet and the outfit settled on consisted of ripped fishnet tights, a short and slinky black dress that would surely make even Isabelle blush, and heeled black boots. Clary had slapped some earrings in her ears and made her wear a necklace. Makeup, as her sister insisted, was a must. Dark makeup around her eyes and a painting of red on her mouth. Reluctantly, Clary had allowed her to bring weapons. Throwing knives tucked on the braces around her wrists and a seraph blade tucked under her dress.
Simon's band was already playing when they entered. She didn't know anyone in the band except for Simon, but something about his band felt off. "Let's find Isabelle." Clary grabbed her wrist, leading her through the crowd. If Isabelle was there, it meant Maia wasn't. Simon was being very careful in which girlfriend he invited and brought along to certain things.
"Clary, Liz! Over here!" She could faintly hear the familiar sound of Izzy's voice over the music. Izzy had planted herself at a table close to the stage. Clary dragged her over and they sat down with Isabelle. "You guys look pretty dreary. Still raining hard?"
"Unfortunately." Clary smiled ruefully.
Isabelle asked why Clary had decided to come, as there had supposedly been wedding stuff to tend to. Eliza also chimed in, stating that she wanted an answer as well. She did not want to be there and would have much preferred staying in and watching a movie with the cat. Both girls rolled their eyes at her and Clary relayed that Jocelyn was feeling a little under the weather. Clary asked how the show was going before they got there.
Isabelle fiddled with her drink absent-mindedly. "Okay, I suppose. The new lead singer, he is fine." She emphasized this with a great clarity. "Maybe he's single. I would love-."
Clarry cut her off with a surprised gasp of her name. The two argued for a few minutes of the schematics of Isabelle's interest in Simon, which seemed greater than she let on.
She let her eyes wander over the crowd. For the most part, they seemed to be enjoying the music. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't fantastic either. Curious about Izzy's fascination with the singer, she decided to focus on the band. He was attractive, she had to give him that. Someone moved off the side of the stage, catching her eye.
Jace, she realized. It was Jace. She knew he would be there, but still the sight of him took her off guard. He was dressed irregularly, like a mundane, in a dark tee shirt and jeans. His own gaze moved around the room like he was searching for something. For someone.
It couldn't be her, she realized. As far as she knew, he had no idea she was going to be there. The intensity of the look worried her. He was on a mission and she didn't know what for.
"Go." Isabelle said, calling back her attention. Both the other girls were looking at her. "You need to talk to him."
Clary nodded in agreement. "Remember what we talked about." Her little sister, coaching her in the affairs of men. What a sight. Hell had frozen over for sure.
"You talked. I was made to listen."
Clary waved a hand. "Go."
She slid out from her seat. The encouraging looks they were giving her were enough. She was going to give him a piece of her mind. He had absolutely no right to jerk her around like a rag doll, mess with her emotions. Play good boyfriend- bad boyfriend all in a matter of days. He had to be set straight. Either buckle down and fix the problem or never see each other again.
There could be no in between. If it was over, it had to be over. She would never stop loving him, so being acquaintances was completely out of the question. She'd have to move away and never return.
Which, that in its own did not sound horrible, part of her realized. The part that longed for something else. It was usually kept at bay, but the impending doom of her relationship brought it to full force. With Jace out of the picture, she was free to-.
She was snapped from her thoughts at the realization that she was close to him. She could always tell from the way her entire body began to heat up and her heart knew to start racing. He was only feet from her, leaned against a pillar behind the stage. At that, every brave thought washed away. All she could think of was how scared she was to lose him.
He was beautiful, graced with a beauty no human could bear. But upon closer inspection, she saw the rings of exhaustion around his eyes, dark circles of sleepless nights. His skin was tautly pulled over his face, worn and grim.
Slowly, too slowly, he looked over. Pale golden eyes skimming until they landed on her. Under his gaze, she felt like an ant under a microscope held under the ray of sun. She saw a light rise in his eyes. And then it was gone, replaced by a colorless face and dim eyes.
"What are you doing here?" He asked. "This is the last place I expected to see you."
No "Hi, I missed you," or "You look beautiful". Not even an apology for his avoidance of her or his nasty behavior as of late.
Anger flared in her. She had to bite down on her tongue to keep from saying something mean. "Is that why you came? Because you didn't expect me to be here?"
"No, Li-."
"Save it, Jace." She cut him off. She couldn't help it. Whatever it was inside of her was too strong. The anger, the hurt, all of it. It came over her suddenly and with a ferocity that knew no bounds. "If you were planning to break up with me, you could have said it to my face. Or called. Or texted. Literally anything instead of avoiding me and refusing to speak to me."
His eyes darkened. "Jesus, why the hell does everyone think I'm going to break up with you?" He hissed. She stared back at him, not sure what to say. "First Simon and then Luke and now-."
She stopped him again. "Why is it you can talk to everyone else about our relationship, but you can't talk to me? The person you're in a relationship with!"
"I can't." He said simply, as if it were the most well-known thing in the world. "I can't talk to you. I can't be with you. Hell, I can't even look at you."
The severity of his words sunk into her skin like bullets. "Oh." She said thickly. "Well then, that solves that." She wasn't sure how the words had come out so evenly, so calm.
He stared back at her, his mouth opened slightly as if he couldn't believe he had just said the words that came from his lips.
She turned around, pushing someone from her way. She felt as if she were on fire, and not in the good way. The further from him she walked, the more she burned.
It was coming down in a torrential downpour. A rain to rival the flood of Noah. Even a flood of that caliber would not drown her sorrow, wash away her sins.
She should have known. She should have seen it coming. The Seelie Queen had said so herself. Binding and love were not the same. Love and desire were not the same. They were bound. She loved him, but he was only bound. They desired one another. She loved him, but he only desired.
She herself had been right. He was the blood of angels. She was the blood of demons. Wrong and impure. A stain upon humanity and Nephilim alike. Demon child.
And he couldn't even look at her.
She felt like she should have been crying. Weren't girls supposed to cry when they were dumped by boyfriends who were repulsed by their entire being? And yet, all she felt was anger. Heartbreak had been pushed so far down, only anger rose.
Her hair was plastered in wet tendrils to her face and neck, the dress sticking to her like a second skin. The cool of the rain had turned the iron braces cold on her wrists. Goosebumps covered her arms and legs.
Someone grabbed onto her arm, spinning her around. She reared back to throw a punch before realizing it was Jace. Just like her, he was soaked from the rain. "I was yelling for you." He said.
She tried to jerk from him, but he held her in place. "Let me go." She snarled. "Jace, let me go before I snap your arm."
She meant it. And she knew that he knew she meant it. But still he did not budge. "Not until we talk." His head swiveled in each direction before he hauled her off to the deserted alley beside the bar. She could hear the music from inside, a dull thrum of sound. There were broken pieces of musical equipment scattered around the alley.
"Now you want to talk?" She barked out a laugh. "Now that you can stand the idea of looking at me?" He opened his mouth and she took the advantage to yank her arm free of him. "Don't waste your breath apologizing. I don't see or hear from you for days. When I do, you're rude and, to be honest, hurtful. And then you tell me that you can't talk to me because you can't even bear to look at me? What a class act you are, Jace Wayland. So, what, did you think that the demon blood was going to magically disappear when you murdered my brother? Did you believe that the monstrous and evil parts of me were going to die with him? And then, when you realized that I'm still as much of a monster now, you couldn't even bear to tell me that you didn't want to be with me? Save. Your. Breath." She huffed out a breath, feeling somewhat better.
He looked back at her, his eyes perplexed. Water fell from his eyelashes, running down his cheeks. She couldn't tell if he was crying or if it was just the rain. "I've been at Simon's. I'm trying to help him." That was the excuse she got. Simon! Jace didn't even like Simon! What a load of bullshit.
"You could have called. Or texted." She said coolly. "Anything would have been better than this miserable silence you've subjected me to. I mean," she wondered if she should say the words or not, they were on the tip of her tongue, and she knew if she said them, it would hurt him, "I needed you more than ever and you weren't there. I needed you, Jace, and you weren't there."
His eyes seemed to fully focus then. He seemed more alert, more aware. "What do you mean? What happened? Are you okay?"
She laughed hollowly. "Like it matters to you. Don't pretend to care anymore."
"Liz, stop. Just let me explain-."
"Explain?" She almost yelled. "What the hell do you need to explain to me?" She was angry, more than angry. This was an emotion she couldn't control, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. "I don't want to hear an explanation of why you don't love me anymore. I don't want an explanation of why we can't be together. I want an expl-."
He was kissing her, backing her against the wall of the alley. Kissing her in a way that should have been an eighth deadly sin. Part of her was screaming to push him away, to hit him, and yell at him. A bigger part of her, the unreasonable part, fought to kiss him back.
Unsurprisingly, that part won.
Her hands held around his neck with urgency, to keep him there, right with her. Keep him close. His skin was slick with water. Her lips suffered at the ravenous way he kissed her, like a starving man eating his first meal in days.
She broke away from him, an action that took incredible control. It was like pulling yourself off an electric fence. "Tell me." She whispered. Any anger had dissipated, gone back to the dark crevice it took refuge in. "You have to tell me what's wrong." Her fingers slid through his wet hair. "Why did you say those things, Jace? Why can't you speak to me or…why can't you look at me?"
Is it all of the reasons I listed off? She wanted to ask but was too afraid of the answer.
When he looked back at her, his eyes were bright. Stunningly gold. Drops of water dotted his face, dropped from his lashes to his lips. "Because…Liz…Because I love you."
She wondered if that would have made any sense to anyone else because it sure as hell didn't make any sense to her. And she said so.
"Nothing makes sense anymore, Eliza. And the way I love you, that makes the least sense of all. I can't live without you. I won't. You understand, don't you? That it's killing me."
To understand, all she had to do was look at him. See the remnants of sleep deprivation under his eyes, the hollow of his cheeks. It made no sense, and yet, it made all the sense in the world. His eyes closed as she traced over the sharpness of his cheekbones.
"Do you hate me?" His eyes opened. There was a vulnerability she hadn't expected. "Tell the truth. I'll understand if you say yes."
She cupped his face, leaning forward to press a small kiss to his mouth. "Never will I hate you. Always will I love you."
He pushed back against her, his mouth once again falling upon hers. His hands, once slow and steady, now became rough and rampaged. They journeyed over her, gripping at her hips, her thighs, her neck. Through the holes of her tights, she felt the cold of his hands grazing over her legs, releasing a shiver through her body.
His lips were just as rough, devouring every part of her.
She let her hands wander, roaming under his shirt. Heat radiated from him and she could feel the thud of his heart. There was the thick cord of muscle that ran under his skin, evidence from years of training. Her hands hesitated at the band of his jeans. Her touch at the low part of his stomach had made him jerk, a low noise coming from his throat.
Something clanged, the high metallic noise ringing through her ears. Jace yanked himself away from her. She looked down at the opening of the alley. Isabelle was standing there, looking more like a disapproving mother than a girl their own age.
"Seriously?" She sighed. Her gaze was heavy and unrelenting. "Out here, really? You couldn't have gotten like a hotel room or something? Gone back home?"
Eliza felt the creeping of embarrassment take over. She looked back at Jace. He was staring at Isabelle, a horrible look on his face, as if he had just been violently awakened from a dream.
"We're looking for Simon, me and Clary. She went to look somewhere else. He ran off the stage and we don't know where to." It was quiet, the only sound she heard being the rain and the beating of her own heart. "Well, I'm going to go look for him. You two go back to desecrating that brick wall." With a finality only Isabelle could muster, she turned on her heel and disappeared.
When she looked back at Jace, her heart sank. Gone was the moment they had shared, she could see it in his eyes. The void expression on his face. Whatever lapse of judgement he had suffered, it had clearly been salvaged.
She reached for him, to grab his hand, but he stared at her with such abhorrence, she took a step back. "Jace, what-?"
He spoke, his words ragged and raw, "I can't." He took off, refusing her the chance to call his name before he disappeared into the rain.
She looked up at the sky, water falling in her eyes. She felt the familiar feeling rise up within her, fingers twitching at her sides. Her eyes flashed dark and for a second, she swore she heard Jonathan calling her name. But when she looked back at the mouth of the alley, it was empty.
The text from her sister had been cryptic at best. Need you to meet me. 232 Riverside Drive.
She didn't bother to ask questions. Lately, Clary had a way of doing things on her own. She was getting better.
It wasn't that far a drive from Magnus'. After gathering weapons, she hailed a cab and sat silently until she was dropped off.
Clary was waiting outside of a square shaped building, complete with a pointed roof. "This is creepy." She told Clary, waving her hand. The building was surrounded by expensive looking apartment buildings, but the one in question seemed too old-fashioned to be in place.
"Yeah. I know. Thanks for coming." She said. Before Eliza could say anything else, Clary's phone began ringing. "Simon, hold on." She listened as the two talked. Simon wanted to know if Clary had been kidnapped and then began rattling on about how Maia and Isabelle had found out about each other at the concert. Neither of them were speaking to him. While they talked, Eliza pushed open one of the doors, the metal handle cold in her grip. Inside, she could see what looked like a church. Candles flickered in the darkness. Clary looked over her shoulder and told Simon she'd call him back.
"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Clary asked quietly.
Eliza glanced back at her. "Clary, this was your idea." She said she knew that, but that didn't mean it was a good idea. "There aren't any bad ideas. Let's just hope it doesn't turn into what Jace believes is a situation. I don't think I can deal with that today."
She opened the door further and the two of them walked in. The door shut quietly behind them and the world fell in silence. Chills covered her body and her hairs stood up on the back of her neck.
Pews lined the narrow aisle they walked down. The only light came from thickly made brown candles on the walls. There were no windows. They walked up to the apse, finding an altar set upon the podium.
Eliza looked back, surveying the church. No crosses. No displays of the Holy Trinity of any form. "Clary. I don't think this is a real church…" She whispered.
"No kidding." Clary replied. She was eyeing something on the altar, a stone-made tablet topped with a carving of an owl. "Come look at this."
Eliza joined her at the altar. Words had been carved into the tablet. For Her House Inclineth Unto Death, And Her Paths Unto The Dead. None That Go Unto Her Return Again, Neither Take They Hold Of The Paths Of Life.
Her gut twisted. The passage seemed familiar, but she couldn't recall from where she knew it. "Something in the book has been marked." Clary pointed out. She leaned down to open the book, pulling out the bookmark. It was not a bookmark, but a dagger. She handed it to Eliza.
"It's an athame." Elisa observed. The blackened hilt had been mutilated, different symbols etched into it. "They're used to summon demons, more often than not." She twirled it over her fingers. "What's in the book?"
Clary said she wasn't sure. Eliza looked over her shoulder, seeing that the book was written in a language she didn't know. What really caught her eye, was the illustration above the words. It pictured a summoning circle, just like the kind she had seen Magnus draw time and time again. He had explained that the circle helped to concentrate magic. Two circles flanked a square, runes drawn around the shapes. She didn't even recognize the runes, but she recognized the sinking feeling in her stomach. Underneath the feeling, came another one. Stronger and easily recognized. A familial sort of recognition, the same feeling she had felt when she recognized Sebastian as Jonathan.
Trying to get rid of the feeling, she flipped the page over. The illustrations on the next page were worse. There was a woman standing, a bird on her left shoulder. The bird looked familiar, like Hugin or Munin. She bit down on her lip. The next picture was the same woman, sans bird. Her stomach was swollen with pregnancy. The third illustration showed the woman was strewn in the middle of an altar. There was a figure hovering over her, a syringed needle filled with a dark liquid that looked like blood. The woman was screaming.
The last picture showed the woman with an infant in her arms. It was a beautiful child, save for the fact that its eyes were holes of darkness. The woman stared down at her child with horror.
Eliza felt sick. She knew this, more than she wanted to. She knew that after they were born, her eyes and Jonathan's eyes had looked like that.
"Liz…" Clary murmured.
"We have to go." Eliza said quickly. She put the athame on the altar and grabbed Clary by the wrist. She felt wrong all over. They shouldn't have come. It may not have been what Jace clarified as a situation, but it had not been a good idea at all.
They turned around, greeted by a new sound. A quiet rustling from above. Both of their heads lifted slowly. The galleries above were not empty, filled with dozens of figures. They were wearing…velour tracksuits? The hoods of the dark grey jackets were pulled over their faces, hooding any identifying features. Their hands were curled around the railing, mouths moving in silence.
"We're just going. Sorry to intrude." Clary called up. They gave no answer. "We're leaving now."
Eliza half-turned to grab the athame, planning to make Magnus inspect it upon his return. Her nostrils caught the scent of something disgusting, a foul and putrid scent that burned her nose. She spun back around, a wall of darkness blocking the exit. She could make out scales, teeth that resembled her knives, and long grasping claws.
Somewhere, she heard Clary scream.
"Run!" She shoved Clary back. Something behind her fell and she tightened her hold on the hilt of the athame. "You picked the wrong day to mess with me." She growled. She launched the athame, seeing it stick into one of the three of the demon's heads. The demon squalled, yanking out the dagger and flinging it to the floor.
It moved faster than she would have thought possible, knocking her out of the way. It lunged towards the altar for Clary.
She took out her sword, the blade glinting in the dim light of the candles. "Clary, get the athame!" She yelled.
She saw Clary scrambled from the altar and grab the dagger. She jammed it into the neck of one of the heads. Ichor splayed everywhere. The blow did no damage, the scaly skin beginning to form back over.
Clary stumbled down the stairs, the demon running after her, seeming to forget about Eliza's presence. Eliza jumped towards the demon, slicing her sword down its back. The demon howled, ichor spraying onto her face, sizzling into her skin.
"Go to hell." Eliza gritted, jamming the sword back into its' back. She heard something sink into flesh and the demon began to fall limp. She pulled the sword out, stepping to the side as it fell back. The athame was stuck into the middle head, right down to the hilt. It continued to move after falling, sluggish and half-dead.
Above, she could hear the shuffle of several feet. She looked up to see that the figures were gone. Clary looked back at her, a look of relief molding into confusion. "Liz…Your eyes…"
"No time. We gotta go." Eliza curled her hand around her wrist. A large shape leapt over them, blocking their exit. The demon hissed at them, advancing on them.
A flash of silver and gold whipped between them and the demon. It wrapped around the two remaining heads and pulled taut. In a blink, the heads were separated from the body. Ichor went everywhere. The remains of the demon vanished into the air, leaving only a foul odor behind.
Eliza looked back at the doors of the church, pushed open. Isabelle was in the middle of the entrance, her black dress swaying around her. Her electrum whip was glittering around her arm. She was looking back at them with a wild grin. "What the hell are you two into now?" She asked.
"How…?" Eliza gaped, her words getting lost. "How did you know we were here?" Isabelle finished winding her whip around her arm. She said that Clary had texted and said to meet them, but she was running behind. "Well, thank God you finally showed up."
They were staring back at her, uncomfortable expressions on their faces. They were camped out in her room at the Institute. Clary and Isabelle were on her bed and she was leaned against the dresser. Isabelle had patched them up, putting salve on the places the ichor had burned and bandaging Clary's cuts.
"You can't tell anyone." She said softly. "I mean it. No one can know. No one." She told them.
Clary and Izzy shared a concerned look. "We don't even know what you're going to tell us. We can't swear to something without knowing it." Clary said.
Eliza shifted. "The journal we found at Wayland Manor. I have it."
"You mean…?" Clary murmured.
She nodded. "The one about me. It details everything. I kept it, even though I knew I should burn it." Izzy asked what was so important about a book. "It's what's in it, Izzy. He wrote down everything. He kept them for all of us. Me, Jonathan, Jace. Every accomplishment, every disappointment, every punishment. This book…it contains what he did to me. It's proof of what he did to all of us. Some of the things he says about me…they're true."
Izzy protested. "Liz, we all know he's wrong. We know you. You aren't weak or a traitor. You're a good person." Izzy told her.
She shook her head, saying that wasn't what she meant. "Izzy, some of the things he says, they aren't what you think. He says I'm a monster and he's right. I have these moments where I don't feel right, I know it isn't me, but I've never felt more like myself. It happens when I'm angry or when we're hunting. It gets worse when I kill demons. And sometimes…sometimes, my eyes change. I've seen it. They're like his eyes were, Jonathan's eyes. They're dark, black. Soulless."
They didn't speak his name, in fear of desecrating the Institute. He had murdered Max Lightwood. He had nearly killed Izzy. He had nearly killed a lot of people.
"The nightmares, they come every night now." She continued. "It's Jonathan, it's always Jonathan. And the other night, I saw him. I swear I saw him at Pandemonium."
Isabelle straightened, immediately knowing what she was talking about. "The night you blacked?"
Clary's brow furrowed. "Wait, what are you talking about?" She asked, looking between them. "Did you get drunk?" She asked Eliza. Together, Eliza and Isabelle explained the events from a few nights before. The Croucher demons, the apparition of Jonathan, Declan, the memory loss.
"Something is wrong with me." Eliza admitted. "I don't know what, but it's getting worse and I can't stop it. But I know that whatever we saw in the church, it has something to do with it. And with what you told us." She looked at Clary.
Clary had relayed a ton of information. She had gotten a call from a warlock at Beth Israel and there was a dead baby in the morgue. Black eyes and claws for hands. She had gotten an image of a rune in her mind that led her to the Church of Talto on Riverside.
"Someone is experimenting on babies, trying to recreate what happened to Jonathan and I. But they're doing it with mundanes. We need to figure out who it is." Eliza said. It couldn't be Valentine, he was dead. Maybe one of his followers who had known the full extent of his craziness. Hodge was out of the question. And so was Marisol.
Isabelle shuddered. "Why would anyone want to make more things like Sebastian?" She grimaced hatefully. Upon realizing what she had said, she gave a sympathetic look to Eliza. "Sorry, you know what I mean. You aren't like him at all."
Eliza nodded slowly. Isabelle had meant well by her words, but she clearly hadn't retained the severity of what Eliza had told her. She was turning into Jonathan, slowly and surely. Maybe Jocelyn had been right. Maybe things turning south with Jace were the reason.
"Jonathan. His name is Jonathan." Clary told Isabelle.
Isabelle's eyes narrowed in contempt. "No, it isn't. That's Jace's name. The monster that murdered Max will always be Sebastian to me." For Isabelle, it was easier to separate them that way. She had always known him as Sebastian. She had always known Jace's name to be Jonathan.
But he would never be Sebastian to her. He would always be Jonathan.
"Everyone is with the Conclave and I couldn't stand to go. Simon is with them and I currently hate him." Isabelle told them. For good reason.
Clary and Eliza raised her eyebrows. "Why is Simon with the Conclave?" Clary asked. Izzy shrugged, saying something about vampires. Clearly, she was not interested. "Is he okay? Do you know?"
Isabelle's face turned to stone as she looked back at Clary. "He's a big boy vampire now, Clary. He has the Mark of Cain to protect him." Her eyes shifted to a darker tone. "I guess you knew about Maia, since you didn't ask why I hate him."
Clary said yes quietly. Izzy turned to Eliza. Evenly, Eliza admitted that she threatened to expose him if he hadn't confessed by the wedding.
"It's fine. I guess I just assumed Simon would take it seriously since I'm so out of his league, you know? I just expected better from him." Clary muttered something about Izzy thinking she was out of his league. Izzy chose not to respond, changing the subject. "Speaking of rocky relationship roads, what's the deal with you and Jace?" She inquired to Eliza. "Minus whatever moment the two of you were sharing at the concert."
Eliza's cheeks went hot. It was no secret that they were not on good terms at the moment. She hadn't spoken to him since he had darted away from her at the concert. "I don't know." She admitted quietly.
Isabelle leaned forward, clearly more interested than before. "All right then I have one question. Have you guys had sex yet?"
"Izzy!" Clary smacked her arm. "You can't just ask that."
Izzy looked offended that Clary had scolded her. Eliza stared back at Isabelle, shocked at her blatancy. "I don't really see what that has to do with this." She said softly.
Izzy gave Clary a knowing look. "That means they haven't done it yet." She turned back to Eliza, eyes glinting. "It doesn't have anything to do with it, I just wanted to know if you were banging my brother. But now I really want to know what's keeping you from it. I mean, the two of you were going pretty hot and heavy in the alley." Izzy paused, her mouth working curiously. "Are you…? I mean, have you ever…?" She trailed off, suspicion lurking in her gaze.
Clary gawked at Isabelle. Eliza merely rolled her eyes. "I'm not really sure what part of locked away in a cottage with my psycho family you forgot." She reminded her. Uncomfortably, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Jace was my first kiss and he's my first boyfriend. We've come close but we've never sealed the deal. I don't know why." She shrugged in a non-committal way. "Do you know if he's ever…you know…?" Surely Izzy would know. She knew everything. She retained gossip like a sponge.
Izzy nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sure he has. I mean, it's Jace." That in itself gave an entire answer. Jace was attractive and he knew it. He could be devilishly charming when he wanted to be. "Not that it's a big deal to him, waiting. I'm sure that's not what the issue is."
Izzy didn't sound completely convinced of her argument.
Eliza did not wholly believe that was the problem. Then again, she didn't know what the problem even was.
"He hasn't said anything, has he? He hasn't told you what's been going on with him?" Eliza's voice shifted, sounding unusually unsure of herself. Izzy said no. "Do you know if he's okay? For the most part."
The dark-haired girl gave her a very grim look. There was no part that gave Eliza hope for a positive answer. "He's definitely not okay. And neither are you."
It was not the same. Not this time.
The sun blazed down on her, wholly and completely unforgiving. Sweat trickled down, beads falling down her face, down her back. It was hot, too hot. When she looked up, she realized there was no sun. Only ash. Beneath her feet, ash.
The world was dark, made of charred remains. She swallowed, her throat dry with thirst.
"I knew you would come." A voice said from behind her. "You always come."
Slowly, she turned around. The voice had once filled her with dread, but now it brought a sense of completeness. With him, she was whole again.
He stood before her, alive and whole. Pale hair that shined in the non-existent sun. Abyssal black eyes. Cream skin, unblemished, healthy. Jonathan, beautiful and glorious.
"Are you real?" She asked, stepping forward. Her hand reached out, grazing against his cheek. His skin was warm. "This is a dream." She observed. He was dead, after all.
"Is it? How can you be sure?" His eyebrow raised inquisitively.
"You're dead. That's how I know it isn't real."
He held her hand up, holding it against his own. His fingers, long and slender like hers, curled over the top of her fingertips. "Don't I feel real, Eliza?"
He did. He did feel real. He felt alive.
"Jace killed you. He cut through your spine. He pierced your heart. I saw. You went down the river. You're dead."
His face had twisted at the mention of Jace. He spat on the ashen ground. "Jace, the bastard son." His hand curled around hers, holding onto it so tightly she thought he meant to break it. "He separated us! He took you from me and he murdered me so he could have you to himself!"
The anger and the hurt in his words shook the world.
"Jonathan, you're hurting me. Please let me go." She said quietly.
Instantly, he released her. "I'm sorry." He had never apologized before. "It's just us now that Father is gone. You, me, and Mother."
Mother. Jocelyn. He hated her. "She's here? Is Clary here?" Her head turned, eager to find her mother or sister.
Jonathan grinned back at her. "She's so glad you're finally here. I'll take you to her." Taking back her hand, he led her down the road. The world seemed familiar, yet unknown at the same time. There were no trees, no other people. In the distance, shadowed figures moved in silence. She asked where they were. "Home." He said, as if her question were ridiculous.
They walked in silence until they reached wherever he had aimed to take her. On the ground was a summoning circle. Something prickled in the back of her mind. In the middle of the circle was a woman. Her hair was long and dark. She had pale white skin, the color of fresh milk.
"Mother." Jonathan announced himself. "She has finally arrived. We can be a family now."
The woman turned. She had a beautiful face. Her eyes were hollowed holes, thick black snakes protruding through them. Her mouth spread into a wide smile. "Welcome home, my daughter."
She didn't move upon waking. She didn't know how. Her mouth was dry, her skin clammy, breath ragged. She didn't close her eyes, in fear of seeing the woman again.
Her hand jutted out, grabbing her phone from across the bed.
Her phone said it was after seven in the evening. A nap? She didn't remember going to sleep. Then again, she had been so exhausted lately, sleep had probably just overtaken her. She hadn't left the Institute. Clary had decided to stay and upon reflection, they decided it was better for Jocelyn to be mad at both of them for breaking the rules.
And in her defense, the odds of her even seeing Jace were a zillion to one.
Which was why, when she noticed him leaning against her desk, she almost screamed.
He was, of course, handsome as ever, much as she hated to admit it. He had on gear, which she thought was strange since it was a little early for him to go demon hunting. He didn't look very well, worse than he had the last time she had seen him. His face was shadowed by the bruises under his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks and temples.
She sat up, almost moving to fix her hair before deciding against it.
"Are you an idiot?" That was the first thing he decided to say. "Fighting off a Hydra demon, just you and Clary? Seriously, Lizzie, if Isabelle hadn't showed up, you could've died. What the hell were you thinking?"
Her mouth almost fell open. He had no right to scold her. She got up from the bed, staring back at him contemptuously. "If you recall, I'm one of the best Shadowhunters. I am perfectly capable of taking care of me and my sister." He started to speak again, and she shook her head. "Do not come in here and pretend to be concerned for my well-being when it hasn't been your concern for days. I am not in the mood to play this game with you today."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Lizzie, if something had happened to you, I don-."
It happened. The anger took over. It welled up inside her so strong that she felt her heart was going to explode. "I said don't, Jace!" She shouted. He flinched at her volume. "Listen to me right now. You do not get to tell me that you can't stand the sight of me and then tell me that you can't live without me and then run off. You do not get to stand here in my room and ask about my life when you haven't given a damn about it in days! Whatever the hell is the matter with you, you need to tell me or figure it out. Or so help me God, Jace Wayland, you will regret it."
His lips parted. His brow was furrowed. He was studying her the way someone studied a stranger. She looked past him, staring at herself in the mirror. She realized what he was seeing. Eyes. Dark as coal.
She spun around quickly, taking several deep breaths. She pushed the anger down as far as it would go.
"Liz?"
When she turned back around, she saw that her eyes were normal again. "You are making me crazy." She said to him. "But I meant every word I said."
His shoulders slumped. They were encompassed by a long and ugly silence, staring back at one another. "I know." He finally spoke. "The way I've been acting isn't fair to you. I don't have any right to be in here, but I needed to see that you were okay. Isabelle said you weren't feeling well, and I had to check on you. You don't take naps."
No, she didn't. "Yeah, well, I don't sleep anymore at night."
"Nightmares." He remembered.
But now they had seeped into her naps. There was no escaping.
"I'm fine." She assured him. "Some ichor burns on my face, but they're gone now. Maybe a bruise or two still fading away." And the heartache. Ever constant, always growing. "Nothing to concern yourself with."
"I'm always concerned when it comes to you. You're the most important person to me, Lizzie."
Another flare of anger shot through her. She tried to hold it together, her hands twisting into fists. "Then, damn it, Jace, act like it."
He took a step forward. She took a step back. Forward. Back. Until her legs bumped against her bed. He was closer than he had been. "Can I check your bruises? To make sure they're healing."
Knowing better, she relented. She raised her shirt. The only physical evidence left on her from the fight was a large bruise against her ribcage where the demon had shoved her aside. It had been a yellowed color, but now it was blue and purple. There was another on her waist, on the other side, where she had been knocked into the edge of the podium.
"Just bruises." She whispered. "I'll be okay."
Their eyes met. His fingers trailed lightly over her ribs, his hand placing itself on the uninjured side of her waist. The other fingered the ends of her hair, pushing the strands back behind her ear. "You needed me." He repeated her words from their last encounter. "I never thought that you would need me. I've always been the one that needs you."
"When have I ever not needed you, Jace?" She asked quietly.
The color of his eyes lightened, and his shoulders fell, the weight of whatever he carried seemingly lifted. If only a little. He held her jaw in his hand, thumb moving lightly over her cheek. "What's wrong with me, it isn't about you." He told her. "All those things you said, you were wrong. How I feel about you, how I love you, it will never go away. I swear." She asked the reason for his behavior. Surely, he wasn't just doing it for attention. "Everything is catching up to me now. What happened in Idris. I tried to forget, to push through it. But I couldn't." It was not all sunflowers and rainbows, being beaten to a pulp by a crazy demon boy and then killing him, getting stabbed by the man who raised you, and then being resurrected by the Angel Raziel himself.
Unless you were Eliza, and then you didn't know how you came back to life.
"I swear, Lizzie, I'll be better from now on. I'll get help. I swear on the Angel."
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her nose against his throat. "On the Angel." She murmured.
She felt him nod. "I swear on us, Liz. Me and you. Everything we've been through. Everything we'll go through." There was a blind hope in his voice, hope for a future. Their future.
She remembered a dream she had had once. Of their future. Marriage and children. A home full of love and happiness.
"Do you think about it, the idea of us getting married?" She asked quietly. It wasn't something she herself had ever entertained. There hadn't ever been the time. And lately, she had never had to think about it. She just knew it would be.
"Yeah. Sometimes." He admitted. He drew back, his hands moving. One on the back of her left hand and the other over her heart. She could feel the heat of his hand through her shirt. "The runes go here. One on each spot." He told her.
She knew this. She had dreamt it. How steadily their hands moved, because they weren't nervous. There was no need to be nervous. "Set me as seal upon then heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death." She said softly. A love strong as death. He had died and so had she. And they each had returned to life. "Stronger than death." She amended.
She drew him down, his mouth settling against hers. His hands had moved slowly, cupping her face. When she pulled away, he protested by a soft noise. She took his hand, leading him to the bed. Wordlessly, she pulled off his shirt, letting herself marvel at him. He sat on the edge of her bed as she stood in front of him. She dropped his shirt to the floor.
"Liz?"
She shushed him as she took off her shirt, tossing it somewhere unseen. He went rigid. A hand on his shoulder, she placed herself on his lap. Isabelle's words rang in her ears. She pushed them away. Her fingers traced over the star-shaped scar on his shoulder. Clary had one as well. Evidence they had encountered an angel. The Angel. She did not have one. Marks of the Angel were not for children of demon's blood. Or so she assumed.
Lightly, gracefully, her fingers went over his collarbone, up to his jaw, over his mouth. To his hair.
"Is this a punishment or a reward?" His voice was languid and hoarse. "Because if it's a punishment, consider me thoroughly repentant. And if it's a reward…" He trailed, voice dropping to silence.
She didn't answer. She only kissed him. He responded instantly, pulling her as close as he could. He stood, holding her to him and laid her on the bed. He hovered over her, propped on his elbows. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, his were firm on her body, ever moving. Arms, stomach, thighs. Anything he could touch he did.
Nothing else mattered. Only him. Only her. Only them. The fact that they were there.
They became one, a twisted array of legs and arms. Roped together like vines.
She felt his hand skim over the back of her bra, his finger on the clasp. She looked up at him and he was looking back at her, waiting for permission or denial. She whispered a quiet yes.
He seemed to draw back, just a fraction of an inch and she wondered why. Did he not want to see her without a bra on? She thought all guys wanted that. Had that not been the point of his questioning look, to ask her permission to take off her bra?
She saw his hand move in the darkness and her mind reverted back to conversations she had blocked out from embarrassment. Magnus, Luke, even her mother. All begging that, when the time came, they would be careful. They would use protection. And each one of them had very sternly told her to wait as long as possible.
"Are we rea-?" She didn't get the finish the sentence.
Something silver glimmered in the dark of her room. Something sliced against her arm. She pulled back, looking at her arm. There was a clean cut, an uneven slice, that went from elbow to wrist. It was beginning to bleed.
"What the hell?" She looked up at him.
In a swiftness only a small number of people could manage, Jace had moved from the bed to stand in the middle of her room. His face was a pale color, the face of someone who had seen a ghost. He was holding a thin silver knife in his left hand. The blade of it was tipped red with blood. Her blood.
He cut her. He had cut her.
"Why did-?"
The knife fell from his grasp, clattering to the wooden floor. Their eyes met. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands.