Jace sat in her floor while she cleaned herself up. She had wiped the blood off her arm and drawn a quick iratze, making him watch as it healed so that he would be assured there was no lasting damage. None physical anyway.
She changed, putting on a pair of pajama pants and an old shirt she had copped from him a while back. She had taken the knife from the floor, putting it on the bedside table. "Tell me what happens." She said. He looked up, eyes broken. "In your nightmare."
"I lose you." His voice was off, dejected and empty.
"I know that. Be specific." Once, Alec had told her that it helped to talk about the nightmares. He hadn't been wrong.
The look he gave her was awful. "It's the same every time. We're kissing. My bed, my room, always. Then…" his eyes moved away from her, fixating on the window, "don't make me say it."
She got up from the edge of the bed. She knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers. "Tell me."
He didn't move. "I hurt you." He strangled out. "I kill you. You die and it's my fault. I kill you and I have to watch you die."
She sucked in a breath, causing him to divert his attention back to her. She couldn't tell him that it was only a nightmare. He had actually hurt her, taken a knife and sliced open her arm. And lately, she was starting to think dreams weren't just dreams.
Jonathan came to her every night. He spoke softly and kindly, a feat he had not been capable of in life. They were meant to be together, he told her. In life and in death. Somewhere, she was beginning to believe him. Never before had she missed him. Never before had she longed for him to be alive, to be at her side, the way twins were supposed to be. Never apart. Not in life or death. And yet, death had separated them.
"I can't stand the thought of hurting you." He said. "Whatever is wrong with me, it's happening when I'm awake now. I don't want to lose you and I don't want to be the reason it happens." She said that what happened was an accident. He would never actually hurt her. "I never want to know what it would feel like if you died. I know how badly it would hurt. It would never go away."
She pushed his hair from his eyes. She knew what it felt like, to lose the person you loved most. He had died before her. She had watched the light leave his eyes. And she remembered feeling relief at the fact that she was going to die so she never had to live without him. "It's the worst pain imaginable." She told him. "When your eyes went cold, I spent every second after wishing for death."
"But you weren't the reason." He stated. "If I was the reason you died, if I killed you, I would kill myself." She startled back. He had never said something so macabre before. "It's true. I think…I think that my upbringing has turned me for worse. A childhood under Valentine is a lasting stain."
She couldn't believe what he was saying. And she couldn't believe he was saying it. Which, maybe he was right. Was she not also struggling? Plagued by nightmares and hellish behavior. Sure, she didn't cut her boyfriend, but her moments of uncontrollable behavior were no longer few and far between.
"I'm not one person anymore. I'm two. Jace Lightwood and Jace Morgenstern." He continued on. "Jace Lightwood deserves you. Jace Morgenstern doesn't. That's why I keep trying to ruin us. It's the only think that makes sense." He turned her hands over in his, holding them tightly. "You belong with Jace Lightwood. Not the person I'm becoming, not Jace Morgenstern."
Her head snapped up. You belong with…Morgenstern.
He frowned at her, asking what was wrong. "Jonathan." She murmured. "It's Jonathan." She scrambled to her feet, raking her hands through her hair.
"Jonathan is dead." He told her. "You know that."
She was slow looking back at him, not wanting to admit what she had been thinking for weeks. Saying it aloud was different than thinking it. "What if he's not?" She knew saying it meant she had to tell him everything.
His eyes darkened.
She sat back down in front of him. She brought her knees to her chest, knotting her arms around them and resting her chin between her knees. "I didn't want you to worry." She stated. "So, don't be upset with me for not telling you." He asked what he didn't know. "I told you that my nightmares were about Jonathan. But I didn't want you to know all of it. I wish I could forget it, but I always remember." She took a deep breath, the noise rattling in her throat.
He was looking at her with an uncomfortable amount of concern. She couldn't look at him and tell him. She couldn't watch his face change in horror when she unfolded the true story to him. She got up, moving over to the window. Pushing back the curtain, she saw the business of traffic on the street below.
"Every night. Without fail." She told him softly. "He's dead in them, at least he used to be. His skin is rotting off, he smells like death. His eyes are always the same. Black as night. We're in the cottage and he isn't the same. He seems…softer, somehow. He tells me that he's waiting for me and he's so glad I've come back. He says-," she broke off, hating the words she was about to speak, "he says we're the same. He sounds so sure that the blood, the darkness, it's going to turn me. Make me like him. And then he takes the Angel's Sword and he plunges it into my chest."
At first, she had thought she was projecting what had really happened. Her father and her brother looked quite similar. Jonathan had tried to kill her several times. Her father had been the one to do the deed. She was terrified that Jonathan wasn't really dead and she had been killed with the Angel's Sword. Simple enough.
Except the dream continued to come back, each and every night. It never changed. Until that day.
She glanced back at Jace. He was still staring at her, his eyes dark with thought, brow knitted together curiously. His mouth made a thinly firm line.
"Jonathan holds me when I die. His voice is kind and he pets my hair. I can feel myself dying and he's telling me that we're the same, we're one person in two bodies. Valentine pitted us against each other, but it was in vain. We were always meant to be together, that's what he says. In life and in death." She heard his breath stifle. "The last thing that happens…" their eyes met again, "he assures me that no one loves me more than he does. No one understands me better than him. He wants me back and he's going to make sure we're together again. And then he kisses my forehead. I die. I wake up."
He let out a breath, a strangled and uncomfortable noise. "Are you saying you think he was in love with you? Because, I know I thought you were my sister but you're actually his sister and that-." In as nice a way as possible, she told him to stop being dumb and shut up. "Okay, sorry. Is that all?" She could hear the prayer in his voice, let that be all of it, we can't handle anymore crazy.
"No."
"No?"
She shook her head. She really didn't want to tell him the next part. The only people who knew were Isabelle and Clary. And Declan. But Jace had to know. She couldn't keep it from him forever. She didn't want to keep anything from him.
"A couple nights ago, I blacked out." She admitted.
His eyebrows shot up. "You got drunk? There's no way in hell."
Why was that everyone's first assumption? The only time she had ever consumed alcohol in front of Jace had been when she had first spun the lie that he was her brother. Granted, they were with her father and that whole ordeal was wild enough that she had needed the pick-me-up the wine had given.
"No, I blacked out. I don't remember anything. I was stressed out about the nightmares and we were fighting, and I just needed...I don't know, a release, I guess. I remember feeling so angry. So, I went to Pandemonium. There are always demons lurking around there and I just wanted to kill something. There was this group of Croucher demons-."
"How many? When you say a group, how many were there? Three? Five?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve?" He wore such a look of astonishment. She wondered if he had ever taken to heart all the times Hodge had said she was better than him. Or almost. She liked the think the former. "You killed twelve Croucher demons. By yourself." She said yes. "Jesus."
"He had nothing to do with it." She said wryly. "They weren't doing anything. They were just there, standing around. I couldn't stop myself. I just started killing them. And after, I thought…It was like I had imagined it and all I saw was a pile of mundane bodies. It kept happening. They would change from mundanes to Crouchers and then, I saw him."
"Jonathan?" He didn't believe her. Jonathan was dead.
Quietly, she said yes. "It could have been a trick of the light, or sleep deprivation getting to me. But that's what I saw, clear as day. As clear as I see you here now. He disappeared and I was left with this empty feeling, like part of me was missing. After that, I don't remember anything. I woke up in the infirmary the next morning. Isabelle said that Declan found me wandering around, muttering about something, Isabelle wouldn't say what, and he brought me here."
His face turned impassive at the mention of her Downworlder ex-boyfriend. She moved away from the window, letting the curtain fall. She quietly mentioned that there was one more thing. She explained that the dream had changed. She had gone somewhere else, what seemed like another world, home, her brother had called it. Jonathan had been there waiting for her. He hated Jace, hated him for killing him and taking her from him. But they were together again, the two of them and their mother. Jace asked if she meant Jocelyn and she said no. She explained that Jonathan had taken her to a summoning circle. The woman from the visions Ithuriel had given them. Snakes for eyes, demon mother. Jonathan called her mother and she called Eliza her daughter. That was where the dream had ended.
"Do you think-?" Jace stopped himself before he could even say the words. Neither of them wanted to think them, let alone say them. "Maybe Sebastian…"
Sebastian. No one could call him by his real name. Maybe they thought if they said it too many times or too fast, he'd be summoned.
Dead or alive, Jonathan was becoming a problem. He was plaguing her, day and night. And something was plaguing Jace in the same way. They couldn't go on. It was going to ruin the both of them. She had to figure out what the hell was going on.
That which you seek will be your desolation.
"We should go to the Silent City. Get the Brothers to poke around." She suggested, though it was not a suggestion at all. Jace said they were creepy. "Creepy and helpful." She added. She pulled him to his feet. "Let's go. Right now."
He made a face, looking her up and down. He then glanced back, checking himself out in the mirror. "We might want to change. I'm half naked and you look like you're about to ask me if I want some pills."
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine."
Despite the feeling of the world beginning to crash and burn around her, she felt somewhat elated. She and Jace were fine. Well, their relationship was fine. They may have been going crazy, but at least they were doing it together.
Jace had asked her to put the knife in his bag, he didn't want to see it. He had pushed it out of mind and now he wanted it out of sight.
She needed it to clear her mind. Seeing it, she didn't think of what he did. When it danced over her knuckles, twirled between the slides of her fingers, she didn't remember the fact that he had hurt her with it.
"Your hair is getting long." She said, the fingers of her free hand twisting the curled ends of his hair. "You should let me trim it."
His mouth twisted in distaste. "Declan's hair was long." He muttered. The corner of her mouth quirked up. "He really found you and brought you back to the Institute? Maybe he was the one who made you black out."
Vampires did have unusual powers. But Declan wouldn't have used it on her, they both were well-aware of that. He prided himself on being a gentleman. Even being dumped for a guy who had previously been known as his girlfriend's brother didn't deter his chivalry.
"What have you been doing?" She changed the subject as they got into a tax. She didn't want to remember the things she had forgotten or the undead ex-boyfriend. "I mean, what exactly does protecting Simon mean? He's protected by the Mark of Cain."
The Mark of the first murderer. Cain had been the first human born and Abel had been the first to die. Murdered by his own brother.
Not so unlike your own brother. Cain cast the stone down upon Abel and Jace thrust a sword through Jonathan. There is not much of a difference. It was a creeping voice in the back of her mind. It was lulling, mind-numbingly soothing.
He deserved death, she told the voice. Jonathan had been sadistic, born of hate. So much it seemed possible he had absorbed most of it that had resided in her. Instead of taking her nutrients in the womb, he had taken the demonic nature, all he could before their time ran out.
Then you are she who killed him. Not with your hands, but your will for his demise. Your hatred for your own flesh and blood brought his death. Now, his blood calls to you from the ground, as Abel's did to Cain. You too bear a mark of murder. Not the sevenfold of vengeance, but a worse and more cruel fate. One fit for a monster of Hell.
In her dialogue with the voice, she had missed all of Jace's explanation. She was really going crazy. "Wait." She tried to gather anything she may have heard. Something about Camille and Magnus. "Magnus is back?"
Laughing, he said yes. "Camille would only talk to him so Maryse summoned them back from their trip. Alec wasn't happy about being back."
Her lip began to curl. Of course, Camille would demand to speak only to Magnus. It was just the sort of cruel thing she would do. Her bitch level rivaled that of the Seelie Queen. She knew that once upon a time, Magnus and Camille had dated. Or whatever dating was at that time. Camille hadn't been very kind to him and as a result, Magnus did not think or speak highly of her. Only Camille Belcourt would find a sadistic use for her entrapment by the Conclave.
Murdering Shadowhunters. One of the worst offenses a Downworlder could commit. If found guilty, and they usually were, they would immediately be put to death. For Camille, this would mean being put on a stake and set out to burn in the sunlight.
"And what exactly have you been up to?" Jace asked in return.
As she told him about her trip to the Silent City with Luke, Maryse, and Clary, she realized how truly out of touch they had been. Small fights before had never kept them unaware of the other's whereabouts. It was the unspoken rule: they always knew. For safety and because the constant worry of not knowing was too big a burden to bear. She relayed what Clary had told her about the demonic baby at the morgue of the hospital and how Clary had found the Church of Talto, leading to their untimely fight with the Hydra demon.
Jace didn't seem too concerned with the fact that a full-fledged Hydra demon had just appeared, or that there had been extra creepy figures watching from above. In velour tracksuits. "Sounds like a by-the-book demon-worshipping cult with really bad fashion sense who accidentally succeeded in a summoning." She asked if he thought that would be the end of it. Surprisingly, he said no.
"Me either." She said quietly. "I got this feeling while we were there. It was familial." He asked what she meant. "The first time I met my mother, I went to her apartment in Brooklyn. I had talked myself down the entire trip, I didn't want to get my hopes up. What were the odds she was actually my mother? That I had actually found her in the same city. But she opened that door and I knew. I knew it was her." She glanced down at the dagger in her hand. "I got that same feeling when we were in that church, looking at that altar. Maybe it was just those illustrations, who knows."
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The pictures had been the worst thing to tell him about the Church of Talto. Because once, Jocelyn had looked at her like that. Though their relationship now was not perfect, Eliza struggled to believe that Jocelyn had been repulsed by her at one time. She treated her exactly as she treated Clary, though there was a clear difference between the two. Jocelyn didn't seem to notice most of the time, she acted as if she had raised the both of them, far away from Valentine and Jonathan.
"Meter's up." The driver said gruffly. "Ten bucks."
They were parked outside of the Marble Cemetery. Jace handed him a twenty-dollar bill and threw open the door. She dropped the dagger into the canvas bag he had slung over his shoulder and kicked the door shut. Walking into the cemetery, Jace grabbed onto her hand. Together, they entered the Bone City.
A group of Brothers were waiting for them upon their arrival, no doubt having sensed them coming. She immediately recognized Brother Zachariah among them.
Children never come to the Silent City alone. The voice rang out in her head. She couldn't be sure which was speaking. Maybe all of them and they had just perfectly mastered the art of harmonizing.
What brings you to us again so soon, daughter of Valentine? This was Brother Zachariah, that she knew for certain. Have you found that which you sought?
"No." She replied. It could have been the truth. It could have been a lie. She didn't know what he thought she was searching for. "I believe we require your aid, if you would be willing."
The Brotherhood is not at the mercy of Nephilim children. Another spoke up. Your trivial issues do not fall under our matters.
She dropped her hand from Jace's, stepping forward. They were really choosing the wrong person to mess with. And on the wrong day. "The problem we face, if I'm correct-" and she usually was, "does fall under your matters." They stared back, hollowed eyes and stitched mouths. Except for Brother Zachariah. He watched with what she could only call curiosity. "We're being…possessed, I suppose." That was the best word she could think of. "Someone is reaching into our dreams and manipulating our minds. Whoever it is, they're making Jace act outside of his own will and they're making me forget things I've done. We're getting nightmares. Every night. You call it hypnomancy."
She was met by a solid silence.
It is a magic held only by those of the greatest power.
She knew that. Anyone who could warp Jace or herself had to be pretty strong. Ithuriel had sent Clary visions.
Follow us to the Speaking Stars. Brother Zachariah was the first to turn his back to them. The other Silent Brothers followed his suit. In sync, they began leaving the entrance to the Bone City. No one looked back to see if Jace and Eliza were following.
Eliza grabbed his hand, pulling him forward to follow the Silent Brothers.
"Hypnomancy?" He whispered. "You didn't say you knew what it was."
She shrugged. "Didn't think I needed to." Even after so long, he still seemed surprised at the amount of knowledge she had. In the beginning, he had assumed she was ignorant of all things related to the Shadow World. He had been right about the hunting thing. Though it had come naturally the first time, she had been scared to death to actually fight a demon.
Both Jocelyn and Valentine had been skilled warriors, so part of it must have been genetic. The whole blood-enhanced-by-demon-blood thing gave her an extra advantage over normal Shadowhunters.
The Speaking Stars pavilion looked as it should have the first time she had seen it. The Brothers had gathered behind their basalt table and Maellartach hung overhead on the wall behind them.
Son of the Institute, come forward.
He gripped her hand tightly. She pried loose and gave him a slight push forward. He had placed himself in the very center of the room, his eyes trained on the floor. The so-named Speaking Stars were bright bursts of metallic stars emblazoned on the tile. His head jerked up in response to something she couldn't hear.
"No, I thought they were just bad dreams." She heard him say.
Her heart twisted in pain.
"I don't think they're visions. Clary, Eliza's sister, was the one who had the visions." He told them. "But I did encounter the Angel."
It was a secret between three people: she, Jace, and Clary. They were the only people who knew that she and Jace had actually died at Lake Lyn. Everyone else thought they had merely been too close to death for anyone's comfort.
"I'm ready." He said.
The stars on the floor began to glow with light. The room filled with the hushed sounds of whispers she couldn't understand. His head fell back, his hands opening and closing every few seconds. He fell to his knees, his hands smacking against the floor. To keep herself from shouting at them to stop, she clamped down on her bottom lip. His face contorted with pain and his hands went to his abdomen. She could see it on his face, plain as day, but not once did his mouth open and release the sounds of torture.
It was when she saw his lips begin to part that she made her move to interrupt. No longer could she watch him writhe. "Quit. Enough." She said loudly. They did not cease. They were hurting him! Her eyes flashed. "Stop!" She shouted.
The room immediately went still. The whispers ceased. Jace looked up at her, his eyes flat, face blank. She moved, helping him to his feet. The palms of his hands were bloody where his nails had dug into them. She moved him to the side of the room where she had stood.
"Don't." He said quietly. "Don't do it."
"I have to." She made her way to the center of the pavilion. She made eye contact with Brother Zachariah. "Give it your best." Lifting her eyes, she trained them on Maellartach. The blade had been cleaned. Not one speck of blood could she see. No doubt, the entire sword had been meticulously cleaned after-.
Her thoughts were shredded, pierced through by a dozen arrows. Images flashed in her mind, she felt as if someone were raking through her head tediously. They did not want to miss a thing. Valentine, the father. A demon-metal tipped whip lashing at her. Placing the last piece of a Malachi Configuration. Berating her time and time again. Plunging the Sword of the Angel through her chest. A soft apology in the cool of the night for no one but her to hear.
Jocelyn, the mother. Soft hands raking through the fine hair of a child. A look of repulsion quickly replaced by an uneasy smile. A rattle waving in her face, "Sweet Eliza Seraphine." The urgent squeeze of a hand. Red curls over a hospital pillow. A modest apology, the ashes of her father blowing in the breeze.
Jonathan, the brother. A knife at her throat. Birds attacking a straw dummy, a cold laugh ringing out. A punch to the face, a kick to the gut. "I'll kill you." A knife in her stomach. Black eyes, ruthless and void of humanity. A whip around her throat. A knife in his back. A body floating down, down the river. Rotting corpse, undead. Arms around her, hand in her hair. "My sister. My Eliza. One soul, two bodies. Together again, as we were meant to be." An apology made too late.
A woman, unknown. Mother, maybe. How? Taunting black snakes for eyes. Ash at her feet, ash in the sky. Ashes of the father, ashes of the world? "Welcome home, my daughter."
A family, all hers. Four beautifully made children. Two good and loving parents. Support from everywhere. A dream that had once occurred. A lifetime unfulfilled.
Jace. Alec. Isabelle. Clary. Simon. Luke. Magnus. Two cats. Maia?
Jace. Jonathan. Jace. Jace. Jace.
Jonathan. A smile, hands outreached for her.
Death. Death. Death. Death. Death.
She gasped, her throat raw. She clawed at it, trying to find some way to get air. Pain thrummed through her arm and only then did she realize she had fallen to the floor, landing awkwardly on her side. Jace was kneeling next to her, his eyes cut dangerously low.
She took several slow deep breaths. Even so, he was still staring as if he had seen a ghost.
The nightmare, she realized.
"I'm fine. I'm here." Her voice was raspy, and she did not think she was fine.
You have withheld the truth, daughter of Valentine. Secrets kept are tragedies in make.
"You'll have to be more specific, I'm afraid." She got to her feet. "I'm notorious for secrets and lying."
Unsurprisingly, they did not find it as funny as she had.
The two of you bear the mark of death. She didn't know which had said it.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. You too bear a mark of murder, the voice had said, one fit for a monster of hell.
Jace asked if that meant they were going to die. Which the answer had to be yes, because everyone died.
No, the mark of death is that you have already died. Each of your souls became untethered from your bodies and passed on into the realms of the shadows. And yet, here you stand.
No one was ever supposed to know. That had been the deal struck between the three of them. No one could ever know that Raziel had brought Jace back to life. No one could know that by some miracle, Eliza too, had been brought back.
Maybe, she thought wryly, it had been the power of Jace's love. A love stronger than death, they had agreed.
Jace began to explain that Clary had asked Raziel to bring them back when the Brothers interrupted him. Yes, we see the Mark of the Angel very clearly over you, Son of the Institute. Only one of God's own has the power to do what he did. That and the black sorcery of hell. At this, each of the Brothers seemed to turn to look straight at her. Surely…
Which was it for you, daughter of Valentine? Heaven or Hell?
This, she interpreted, meant that she was not marked by the Angel Raziel. It made perfect sense, he had refused to bring her back. Her soul, he claimed, belonged to Edom.
"The Angel chose to bring-."
She was interrupted. He did not. We are well aware of many things in this world, the ritual of the Instruments is one. Brother Zachariah told her. He who possesses the Instruments may ask the Angel one favor. He could not have refused her if he wanted, for that is the rule of the ritual.
She grabbed onto Jace's arm tightly. "It sounds as if you mean to kill us. To restore the balance of life and death." She said thickly.
Surely the Brothers wouldn't kill them. Would they…?
Brother Zachariah broke away from the group. The balance is a delicate one. It has been upset by your unnatural restorations of life. He came towards them. Eliza had half a mind to prepare for a fight. She could take a Silent Brother. Hell, she could take all of them if she had to.
He rested his fingers under Jace's chin, lifting it up. Had I been present the day you came from your mother, it would have only taken one gaze upon your face to know the truth of you. He told him.
Was he hitting on her boyfriend?
The boy cannot be harmed by us. The ties that bind the Herondales and the Brotherhood are old and may not be disturbed. Help shall be given to him. Eliza asked specifically what kind of help he meant to Jace. The ritual of birth. He has died and been reborn. Without the protections, he has been left vulnerable to the influences of evil. An evil power takes counsel in your ear, Jonathan Herondale. You have been strong in your battle against it.
Herondale. He didn't go by the last name. He felt no familial tie to his biological family. That which he had never known. A father who had died before his birth and a mother who had killed herself, nearly taking him with her. The only fathers he had ever known were Valentine and Robert Lightwood.
And so, Jace went by Lightwood.
"You'll do it? Perform the ritual so he'll be safe." Eliza asked Brother Zachariah.
Yes. We must call for preparations. An Iron Sister needs to be summoned. An amulet needs crafting. And Jonathan will need to remain here until after the ritual. This will provide him the most protection.
Jace, remain in the Bone City? Now, the last time that had happened, they had been locked in a cell and attacked by a Greater Demon of fear. Not a fun time. She wasn't too keen on letting it happen again.
"How long?" She asked.
No more than two days. The ritual requires altering, as it is made for infants. Be glad he is still a child, for his soul is still capable of salvation.
Jace looked between Brother Zachariah and Eliza. "You're doing the ritual for her too, right? She died that night too. She needs the ritual. You heard her, you saw in her head."
No.
Before he could say anything, Eliza squeezed his arm. "They can't, Jace. Didn't you understand?" His eyes turned a hardened gold color as he said no. "Tell him," she said to Brother Zachariah, "tell him why he can be saved, and I can't. It seems to have slipped his mind."
Brother Zachariah clasped his hands together in front of him. You, Jonathan Herondale, were brought back by the Angel Raziel. A light power, the power of good. Eliza Morgenstern was not. We cannot know what force brought her back, but it was not the Angel. Even you know this. The ritual is for those who can be protected against the influences of evil.
"Exactly." Jace said. "Which she needs. In case you weren't listening."
Eliza Morgenstern is in possession of a soul tainted by the grips of Hell. Her blood is corroded with that of demons. The ritual protects against the influence of evil. She has the brand of it in her blood. More so now than ever before. Whatever force tethered her soul to her body at Lake Lyn, it did so with a magic too dark to work against. To perform the ritual would be to kill her.
It was one thing knowing that she couldn't be helped. It was another to hear it. And it was entirely different to see the realization register on Jace's face. For a few moments, he said nothing. He only stared at Brother Zachariah with an abject anger she was glad was not directed at her.
"It's fine." She told Jace in quiet voice, pulling his attention away from Brother Zachariah. "I'll be okay. I promise. Let's just focus on you, okay?"
The last thing she wanted was to leave him alone in the Silent City. But she knew the Silent Brothers would not allow her to stay with him. She moved her hands up, cupping his face. "Tell Alec and Izzy I'm at Simon's." He told her. "Tell them that and I'll see them in a few days."
She glanced back at the Brothers, watching them with hollow stares. "Whatever you want." She looked back to him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
He nodded furiously. "I told you I'd fix it, get better. And if this is what it takes for me to be able to see you and not worry if I'm going to kill you, I would spend my life down here."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Then you'd never see me." She pointed out.
He didn't laugh as she had hoped. He cracked a sad smile. "You'll talk to Magnus? See if he can help?" She said yes, even though she knew Magnus could do nothing for her. The demon's blood was taking its toll on her. She supposed she was a later bloomer.
"I'll come back tomorrow night to check on you. I promise." Sooner, no doubt. She knew she wouldn't sleep until she saw him again.
"Maybe by then I can leave with you."
She kissed him, a brief brush of her mouth against his. "Then I guess I should leave you to it." She let him go, instantly feeling a little emptier without him. She looked Brother Zachariah dead in the eye. "Take care of him. If anything happens to him…" her eyes seemed to flash, "well, you know what they say. Hell hath no fury like Eliza Morgenstern."
Magnus looked at her the way scientists looked at experiments, new discoveries, viruses under a microscope. His yellow cat eyes flickered as he inspected and observed. Head bobbing along as he made mental notes. His hand was firmly placed on the crown of her head, waves of warmth coming from his palm. She didn't know if he was just warm or using magic.
Given the circumstance, she hoped it was magic.
"How long?" He asked again. As she had said the previous two times, she said since they had come back from Idris. "Every single night?" She said yes. "How much time did you lose? When you blacked out." She didn't know, a few hours maybe. "Tell me exactly what Brother Zachariah said to you."
She felt her heart being pulled down to her gut. She didn't even want to think about the awful truth he had laid on her, a funeral shroud of words. "He said that whatever brought me back from the dead used dark magic. Trying to protect me from it would kill me. He said the brand of evil was in my blood and too strong to fight."
In asking Magnus for help, she had been forced to reveal the truth of Lake Lyn. She knew he would never tell, but had sworn him to secrecy nonetheless. Their circle of secrets was growing larger by the hour it seemed.
"I don't like that." He clicked his tongue.
"I should hope not." She muttered. "Is there anything you can do? For the nightmares and the blackouts."
He sat down on the couch, raking his hands through his dark hair. "Off the top of my head, no. With some research, maybe." He didn't sound too hopeful. "I don't want to give you false hope, little dove."
She sat down next to him and took his hands in hers. "Magnus." She said quietly. There was no one else to hear them, save for Chairman Meow. He could spill no secrets. "I'm scared."
He gave her a look she could only call pitying. With a sad smile, he ran his fingers down the crescent of her jaw. "I know, little dove. We'll figure this out. You're safe here." He pulled her in, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. "Did I tell you about how we got our opera tickets?" She said no. "Well, it was interesting to say the least."
He launched into the story. The longer he spoke, the more his voice faded out, replaced with another.
Eliza, it called, don't worry. I'll save you soon enough. I will never leave you behind.
It was a soothing voice, words lullabying her into a fuzziness that soon overtook. Her eyes fluttered shut and she was pulled right into a dream.
The world was dark. Barren and cold. There was nothing. No horizon to distinguish where the sky ended, and the world began. There were no trees, no houses, no people. An empty world.
He appeared before her, looking as if he had been there the entire time and she had simply overlooked his presence. He seemed brighter, dark eyes glistening in the light of nothing, pale skim illuminated.
Maybe she had been wrong.
Maybe Jace had been the sun and Jonathan had been the moon. She had been the Earth, simply existing between the two of them. Or maybe she had been a star, dead before her light had ever touched them.
"Are you doing this to me?" She inquired. "Are you communicating from Hell?" There was no other place he could exist. Heaven, it so seemed, had a strict No-Monsters rule. If she wasn't allowed in, neither was he. "If so, I want you to stop. The dreams, the fugue states, all of it. Leave me alone."
His face remained stoic. Beneath his thin white shirt, she could see the velvet black of his runes. The Angelic rune on his collarbone, Mnemosyne, countless others they had been forced to Mark one another with. There, on his chest, directly above his heart, was a stark red rune, the color of blood. It was one she had never seen before. It was made of oddly sharp angles and crossed-over corners.
"I can help you." He said. "I'm trying to help you."
"You've never wanted to help me. Only hurt me." Their one-sided competition for their father's love had left them both losers. In the end, he had never cared for either of them. Even Jace, his prized stolen son, had been made a loser.
His hands jerked out, grabbing onto hers. "I'm trying now!" He said urgently. "You have to listen to me. If you want it all to stop, you have to do as I say." His eyes scanned over her face. "You have to trust me."
She had never trusted Jonathan. Not even as far as she could throw him. But he came every night. He spoke with soft words wrapped in a warm voice.
"What do I have to do?"
She wanted to get better, to be better.
He let her go and produced his stele. "It will only hurt a little." He promised. He took her left hand and grazed a rune on the back of it, a backwards half-circle with jutted lines and two diagonal crescents. It burned, more than any rune had ever burned before. "Just one more." He whispered. "One more and it is all over. You will be saved."
Saved?
He pushed aside the opening of her shirt. "Jonathan." She tried to step back, but he held her in place. The tip of his stele burned her skin as he began. He worked painstakingly slow, his eyes trained, hand steady. The stele left a trail of fire over her heart.
"There." He murmured.
It was the Commitment rune. Just like the one on her hand, it blazed white.
"Jonathan…" She said, not knowing where the sentence had been going.
"You have to do me now." He pressed the stele in her hand. "It's the only way you can be saved, sister. Don't you want to be saved?"
Her hand shook as she traced the same runes onto his skin. One on his hand and one next to the red one on his chest.
"I've saved you both." He told her, eyes burning into her. "What I've done, it was for you. Remember that."
She looked at the runes she had just placed on him, realization dawning on her. She had done it once before, in another dream. A happier place where nothing was wrong, and everything was right. She had put them on the other boy. He had put them on her.
The other boy.
The sun.
Jace, that was his name. Thinking it made her stomach feel funny.
"Jace." She tested the word out, liking the way it felt and sounded when it came from her.
Jonathan, did not. His eyes flashed. "Why are you saying his name?" He growled. "He took you away. He separated us!"
"Jace." She said again. "Where is Jace?" She looked around, half-expecting him to pop up the way Jonathan had. If he did, she would be happy. The sun and the moon, both with her.
She could be the time of day they both existed in the sky.
When she woke, her hand burned. The place over her heart burned. Sure enough, she was Marked.