City of Lost Souls

November

In the back of her mind, she could hear Magnus' voice. Calling her, trying to find her. All of his efforts- combined with those of the Clave- were futile. She knew this because they hadn't been found.

He never failed to let her know that they wouldn't stop looking until they found them. Her and Jace. He didn't know that they would never find them because they didn't want to be found.

That day, the market was bustling. She had not just been sent for food. She had been sent for someone.

She could see the man from the corner of her eye. He was trying to haggle with the woman selling plums.

"Mademoiselle, achetez-vous les pommes?" She put her full attention back on the elderly woman in front of her. She was gesturing to the handful of apples Eliza had put in the basket.

"Oui." Eliza nodded. The woman held her hand out, waiting for her to drop some sort of payment. She looked at the sign. The apples were priced much too high for her liking. She let her gaze fall back on the woman. She narrowed her eyes, concentrating on the woman. "Vous me les donnez sans frais." She said slowly.

Without fail, the woman's eyes seemed to glaze over with a hazy, blank look. She nodded heavily. "Prenez-les gratuitement."

Eliza smiled brightly. "Merci."

She turned from the booth, walking right towards the woman selling the plums. The man was still there, arguing that she had priced her plums too high. It seemed all of the Marseille market vendors had agreed to overprice their goods.

She walked past the man, being sure to bump into him. He startled, spilling the contents of his own basket to the ground. She let out a gasp, halting herself. "Je suis vraimen desole! Laissez-moi vous aider." She insisted, dropping to her knees to start putting his items back in the basket. The soft cotton of the dress brushed against her knees.

He knelt down to her level. "Laisse le. Ne t'inquiete pas." He had two dark grey horns growing from his temples, something she was sure the vendors could not see.

In French, she asked if he was sure, once again insisting to help. She then offered to pay for what she had ruined. He assured her there was no foul and nothing to forgive. They both stood. He was shorter than both Jace and her brother, only an inch or so taller than her.

Demurely, she smiled, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "Tu dois me laisser me faire pardoner." He stared back at her. She suggested he come back with her and let her cook him dinner. Almost in too dark a tone, he asked her age. She smiled again, saying she was twenty-two.

She held out her hand and he took it. Holding on to him tightly, she led him from the market. The apartment was not far from the town center, less than a mile. It was a peaceful walk over cobblestone streets and past old buildings, new life breathed into them.

The apartment was just by the sea, overlooking the sparkling water. He followed her up the steps and waited for her to open the door. The front room was empty, save for the couch and coffee table. She could see the kitchen on the other side.

She motioned for him to sit on the couch and told him to wait while she put her things away and grabbed a bottle of wine. She left him on the couch, journeying into the kitchen. She put away the apples and the cheese in the fridge. There was still meat, which meant she wouldn't need to go to the butcher's again before they moved on. She grabbed the wine bottle from the counter, going back into the living room.

The warlock was tied up on the couch, two young men on each of his sides. He gave her a terrified look. "Aidez moi!" He begged.

She frowned, putting the wine down. "You never let me have any fun." She pouted, looking at the taller boy. "I wanted to tie him up."

He gave her a hard look. "And here I thought the fun part was luring him here, little sister."

She set her mouth. "Only a little." The man looked between them, wriggling in his binds. He begged her again to help him, to let him go. She walked over to him, holding his chin in her hand. "Now why would I do that?" She asked him. "You have information my brother needs. Tell us and we will let you go."

They looked the same, she and Jonathan. They were both tall and slim-made, with the same slender hands and regal face structure. The same dark black eyes.

He said if they didn't kill him, he would tell them anything. "Speak English, denizen. You make French sound horrible." She told him. "Warlocks." She shook her head with a sigh.

"Shadowhunters. I should have known." He finally spoke.

"But you didn't. Which was very stupid on your part, I must say." Jonathan told him. She agreed with him.

Jonathan began questioning him on the whereabouts of an important book he needed. The warlock insisted that he didn't know where it was. He looked at all of them, his eyes settling on Eliza. "You! I knew I recognized you! Magnus Bane is searching for you! Your face is in the minds of all warlocks in the world." He told her. "He's willing to pay a pretty penny for your return."

She took out a small knife from under her dress. She ran it over his cheek. "It's very unfortunate that you've seen me, then." She said. He asked why. "We can't have Magnus, or anyone for that matter, knowing where we are or what we're doing."

His eyes widened. "You said you would let me go!"

She grinned, something about the gesture seemed almost evil. "Yes, well, I lied. It's kind of my thing." She twisted the knife over her fingers. And then she shoved it through his chest.

He coughed, blood spewing onto her face. She crinkled her nose, turning back to the boys.

"Eliza, we didn't have the information yet." Jonathan chastised her. "He was a good lead."

She took the knife out, inspecting the blood on the blade. She wiped it off on the dress, tossing the knife on the table. "And now he's a dead lead." She replied coolly. Deep down, she knew killing him was wrong. He hadn't broken the Accords. He hadn't killed a mundane or a Shadowhunter. She just didn't care anymore.

His eyes flashed. "Don't ever say I don't let you have fun." He grabbed the man's arms and began hauling him from the living room.

Her eyes settled on Jace. "Did you miss me?" She asked, her voice lilting back towards French. "Oui ou non?"

He reached, wiping a dot of blood from her cheek. It smeared a mark. "Oui."

"Combien?" She asked.

He pulled her to him, both his hands holding her neck. "Laisse moi te montrer." He kissed her, his mouth rough against hers. His hold was tight. It didn't seem like she could get him close enough.

Behind them, Jonathan cleared his throat. "We've got work to do, since someone," he glared at her, "killed our last lead."

They broke apart, not willingly. Jace had blood on his face and mouth. She smirked, murmured that they would continue later.

Her finger traced lightly over the scarlet rune on his chest. It stood out against the dark black of his permanent Marks and the dewy silver of the past ones. "Est-ce que tu m'aimes?" She murmured, her lips grazing the line of his jaw.

She felt him shudder. His hands gripped her waist. "More than an angel loves the heavens." He replied hoarsely.

She smiled down at him, her dark eyes softening. "You mean it?" She pressed a kiss to the spot just under his jaw.

Jace sat up and she drew away. His shirt hung on her loosely, their legs tangled in the sheets. "You know I do." He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger. "Have you heard from Magnus?" His voice dropped lower.

Her eyes flickered, then narrowed. "He is relentless." It had been several weeks. No one was giving up. "My mother thought we eloped at first."

It got a smile from Jace. "Maybe we should." He said. "Elope, I mean." He put his hand over the place where her Commitment rune rested. "We'd just have to…figure out a way around these."

Eliza got up from the bed. His shirt went just to the middle of her thighs. "We aren't eighteen yet." He said that was the point of eloping.

Before she could respond, there was a sharp knock on the door. It opened, revealing her brother. "God, do the two of you have any dignity?" He covered his eyes. Eliza brightly said no. "Find some clothes. We've got work to do." He closed the door loudly.

Eliza looked back at Jace. "There's always work." She pouted. "Never any fun."

He drew up to his knees, moving towards her. He was on the edge of the bed, fingering the hem of the tee shirt. "No fun at all?" He arched an eyebrow. "And here I thought we'd been having fun the past few hours." His lips quirked curiously.

She smacked his shoulder lightly. "That is not what I meant, Jace!" She laughed. "I meant that we never get to go and see the world. We always have things to do."

He pulled her down on the bed, laying her on top of him. "He knows what he's doing." He reminded her. He cupped her face. "When we're married, I'll take you everywhere, show you everything, anything you want to see."

There was a hidden phrase there. He wanted to marry her, they'd elope if need be. But nothing would be done until Jonathan's plan was acted out fully. Whatever he was planning.

"This is a terrible idea." Eliza said for the thousandth time. "A horrible idea." Both the boys looked back at her. "We're going to get caught."

Sharply, Jonathan told her to be quiet. "We'll get caught if you don't stop talking."

Jace gave her a look that was anything but sympathetic.

The New York Institute had not been warded, the Conclave's biggest mistake. They knew that Jonathan Morgenstern was on the loose. To leave the place unprotected, the place where Jace called home, where she called home. The place that everyone they loved most resided. To leave it un-warded was going to be their downfall.

Just as Jace had predicted, the Institute was empty. They were in the foyer, the world around them silent as could be.

"Show me where the library is. What we need is in there." Jonathan told them. Eliza hesitated getting out of the elevator. "What's wrong?" Jonathan asked her. "Having second thoughts?"

She shook her head. "You two go on. I need something from my room." Jonathan's face tightened. "Knives." She elaborated.

Jace reassured Jonathan. "She won't get caught. Liz is like a shadow."

Relenting, Jonathan gave a strict nod. She said she would meet them in the library.

Her feet were silent as she sprinted through the Institute. The halls were empty and she wondered where Isabelle was. Where Clary was. Were they out searching for them? Were they training? Out on a hunt?

Church was laying in front of her bedroom door. Her heart pinched. All she wanted was to pick him up and snuggle him against her chest. But she didn't have time for that. She nudged him aside with her foot, slipping through the crack in the door.

Her room was still the same. Slightly messy. Weapons tossed anywhere and everywhere. She knelt down beside her bed, prying a piece of floorboard up. There were several bundles of throwing knives hidden there. They had already been Marked. She stuffed them inside her coat. She looked around. Deep down, she wanted to return, she knew she was doing something wrong by being with Jonathan, but she couldn't turn away from him. She didn't know how. Whatever was wrong, it felt right and that was all that mattered.

She left her room. She crept through the halls, making her way back to the library. Church had followed her, meowing and growling at her.

Jace and Jonathan were in the middle of the library, talking quietly to one another. Standing under the skylight, they both glimmered and shone with unnatural beauty. Neither of them looked as if they were from this world. Jace, an angel sent from the heavens. Jonathan, one of the Fair Folk.

"Good, you're back." Jonathan noticed her first. "Did you get what you needed?" He asked. She opened her coat, revealing the bundles of knives. "Do you happen to know where the summoning books are? Jace doesn't seem to know the system Hodge used for filing."

Eliza said it was a shame Jonathan had killed him then. They could have used his knowledge. He agreed with her. "We'll look down here. You check upstairs." She said. "We need to be in and out before anyone returns."

He nodded, heading for the stairs. "Don't start making out while I'm gone. Like you said, in and out."

Something about the library felt off. She couldn't place it, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was not unlike the feeling she had gotten the numerous times Hugin and Munin had spied on her.

She grinned, grabbing Jace's hand and made a promise not to promise anything wouldn't happen. She dragged him back to the shelves. "Hodge really should have employed a system." She muttered under her breath.

Who knew how long it would take the find the summoning books?

"Found them." Jace said. "He put them in the 'Nonlethal Magic' section." He pulled out one of the books, holding it up for Jonathan to see.

Jonathan hadn't even made it up the stairs yet. "Sounds like a boring section." He strode over to them. Jace had taken several of the books, stacking them in his arms.

"Now that we have them, I need to go to my room and get some things." Jonathan asked what he needed. "Clothes."

"We don't have the time."

"Liz had time to go to her room." Jace pointed out.

Jonathan shrugged. "She moved quickly. Much like we need to do now before we're seen. Besides, she needed weapons. Your clothes are not necessarily important when you have all the funds necessary to buy new ones."

Jace pulled a face. "My favorite jacket is just as important as Eliza's knives."

"I beg to differ." Eliza added. She said that her knives were useful, not a fashion statement.

Jonathan agreed with her once again. "Besides, in a few weeks, we'll be running this place. You can live without it until then. We need weapons now." He explained to Jace. He grabbed onto the back of Jace's jacket. "Liz."

She plastered herself at his other side, snaking her arm around his waist. Jonathan reached, turning the slim silver ring that decorated the index finger of his right hand.

Around them, the library faded, a painted doused with water, until it became nothing.

Jace was asleep, a pastime he had taken up over the past couple weeks. The six weeks of sleep deprivation had caught up to him. When they weren't hunting or researching, he slept. She liked him when he slept. He was at peace. No more nightmares plagued him.

He wasn't just sleeping, he was resting.

"I have a proposition." Her brother said.

It had been a few hours since they had returned from the Institute. They were in the small living area, reading through the books they had taken. Jace was asleep in their room. He liked to take a short nap before dinner some nights.

"I'm listening." She didn't look up from the book.

"Lilith bound us together with a Dark magic. She brought us together when our father forced us apart." He said. "You and I, we're the same now. I always told Father you would succumb to your true self eventually. And you have."

She marked her page in the book, looking over at him. "Is there a point to this?"

He stood up, putting his book on the table. "There is no better pair than the two of us, little sister. You and I have no better match than the other. Now, we fight as well together as you and Jace." She told him to get to the point. "Be my parabatai. We are already stronger than any other Shadowhunter, but bound together as partners…"

She had never thought of having a parabatai. Jace and Alec had each other. She could have chosen Isabelle or Clary, but they had never really been in sync with her. Parabatai understood one another on a molecular level when it came to battle. Jace and Alec fought as one person in two bodies. She had never had someone like that.

"That's a big decision to make." She noted.

"It's the right decision. Liz," he had taken this name up from Jace, "there is no reason as to why we shouldn't become parabatai. If it is as Lilith said and we were meant to be together in life and death, this is just another testament to the fact."

She stood up, leaving her book on the couch. "We can't exactly go to the Council and have them perform the ceremony."

He smiled crookedly. "Then we will do it as Jonathan Shadowhunter and David the Silent did."

She took out her stele and he took out his. She produced a knife from her belt. She sliced a thin line down the palm of his right hand. Blood welled immediately. She handed the knife to him and he made an identical cut on her right palm. Dropping the knife, he grasped her hand in his. The cut burned as he held her hand tight against his.

Together, they spoke the oath, as countless other pairs before them had, "Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee—for whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Angel do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." Each word was spoken in meticulous fashion, every syllable pronounced sharply.

They stared back at one another, black eyes locked on black eyes.

They placed the rune on one another, the sides of their necks.

"There." Jonathan sighed. "Nothing can stop us now."

Between the Dark-made Wedded Union and Commitment runes, and now the parabatai rune, the Morgenstern twins would never be apart again.

With a curious mind, she watched her sister sleep. Clary was twisted in the duvet of her bed, her red hair spread over the pillow. She spun the knife in between her fingers as Clary jolted awake.

A breeze blew in from the window. She saw Clary shiver and turn towards the window. Her eyes landed on her. It took a moment for it to register. Clary's eyes widened and in a flash, Eliza was at the side of the bed, her hand pressed over Clary's mouth.

"Shhh, little sister." Eliza shushed her. Clary's breath was hot on her hand. "I'm going to remove my hand. You can't scream. If you scream, I'll leave."

Clary nodded feebly. Eliza removed her hand slowly. "Why are you here?" Clary demanded. "Shouldn't you be reading those books you stole from the Institute?"

Eliza's eyes glinted with amusement. "So, you were the fly on the wall in the library." She sounded mildly impressed. Clary asked how she knew that. "Please, little sister. After years of vigorous training, you think I wouldn't notice we weren't alone?"

"And Jace and Jonathan? They didn't know?"

She shook her head. "Jace is too eager to please. And Jonathan was too preoccupied with the mission."

Clary leaned back against the headboard. "You're okay, both of you? I mean, he isn't hurting you guys or anything, is he?"

Sharply, Eliza said no. "We're fine. More than fine."

The bedroom door opened. Eliza barely moved, her head only turning. Jonathan and Jace were in the doorway.

"Aren't the two of you a pretty sight?" Jonathan said. "When was the last time the three Morgenstern children were all together in the same room?" He asked thoughtfully. His eyes lightened. "Well, all living and as ourselves." He added.

"Get out." Clary hissed at him.

He didn't seem surprised by her reaction to him. "I only want some family time."

"I don't care what you want." Clary snarled. "You're a murderer and you are not my brother." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, at the fresh rune on his neck. She turned back to Eliza, examining the familiar rune on her neck that had never before been there. "What is that?" She pointed to the rune.

Clary knew that Lilith had Marked Eliza and Jonathan with the marriage runes, binding them in some demonic force. It was similar to the way she had bound Jonathan to Jace.

"You know what it is." Eliza replied coolly. "A parabatai rune."

Even in the darkness, she saw her sister's green eyes sharpen with judgement. "You've got to be fu-."

Eliza snapped for her to watch her words carefully. She turned back to Jace and Jonathan. "Five minutes." She told Jonathan. He opened his mouth to respond. "Five minutes." She repeated, her voice hard. In a swift movement, Jonathan swung the door shut soundlessly. She looked back at Clary. "Circumstances have changed."

Clary stared back at her as if she were a stranger. "Liz, tell me that this isn't really happening. Tell me that you're only pretending to be on his side, that you're a spy. Tell me anything that isn't what I think is really going on."

"I can't do that." She said quietly. "I won't lie to you."

Clary seemed to deflate. "You hated him." She whispered. "More than anyone else. How could you go from that to….to this?"

Eliza got up from the bed. She paced, holding her hands in front of her. "He's my brother. My twin brother." She glanced at Clary. "Our brother."

But Clary had never really known him. She hadn't shared a womb with him, come into the world with him, grown up with him. She hadn't felt her heart rip in two when he died. No one would ever know Jonathan the way she did. A part of her relished that. No one would ever know them the way they knew each other.

"He's a murderer." Clary reminded her.

Eliza whipped around to face her. "No one is innocent, Clary. Everyone has sins to answer for."

Clary looked murderous. "If you came here to flaunt your newfound relationship with our psycho zombie brother, you can get the hell out of this house. If you're really on his side, I don't want to see you."

Eliza crossed her arms over her chest. She stared down at Clary, a hard look in her dark eyes. "I didn't just come here to have a sisterly chat, Clarissa. I need something from you." Clary asked what that was. For a moment, it seemed as if the hard exterior had worn down. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but Eliza's eyes seemed to glint green. "I need you to come with me. With us, I mean."

"Why?"

Eliza's eyes skirted over to the door and then back to Clary. "Something is wrong with me." She whispered in an urgent voice. "It's the marriage runes, the bond. I can't…I can't control myself." Her words strung together in an unceremonious way, blurred into one another quickly. And then, it was as if nothing had been said. Her eyes dissolved, once again becoming hard and cold. Just like Jonathan's.

"You need to kill him." Clary said simply.

Eliza wished it were that simple. And then she chastised herself for thinking such a thing. "I can't do that. Even if I wanted to." Clary asked why not. "He and Jace are bound together by an old and dark magic. If Jonathan dies, Jace dies."

Anyone with half a brain knew that Eliza would never risk Jace's safety like that.

Clary sucked in a breath.

"The world isn't as black and white as you see it, Clary. There are so many variations and shades of grey. I thought an artist as yourself would know that."

A scream in another room kept Clary from replying. She heard something shatter. Eliza darted from the room, running into the living room of Luke's house. The only thing that separated the living room from the kitchen was a long bar counter.

Her mother stood at the counter, a shattered glass at her feet. She wore a frayed shirt and sweatpants, her hair pulled back in a falling bun. Her face was sheet-white, her green eyes wide.

Across from her, in the living room, stood Jonathan. Ever so casually, he was leaned against the wall, staring back at Jocelyn with an emotionless face.

"Jonathan." She heard Jocelyn murmur.

Jace was seated on the couch, watching with mild interest. She heard Clary come from her room, standing behind her.

"Sebastian." Jonathan corrected her. "The name that you and my father bestowed upon me I no longer found myself keen on keeping. Neither of you truly cared for me." He explained to her. "Therefore, the only person who may continue to call me Jonathan is the only person who has ever cared for me. Eliza."

His eyes did not seek her. They didn't have to. He always knew when she was near.

Jocelyn's mouth worked. "Eliza? Where is she? What have you done with her?" She demanded.

Almost smiling, his eyes finally found her. Standing in the hall, waiting to be acknowledged. Slowly, Jocelyn's eyes moved, landing on her. "Eliza. Oh, God."

"Give her some credit, big brother." Eliza's eyes flickered. "She did think you were dead all this time. I got the same look back in July."

Jonathan did not seem amused with her response. Or her devotion to their mother. "A true mother would have known we were alive. She would have felt it. Open your eyes, little sister, she never once cared for us once she saw what our father had made us into."

She began to defend Jocelyn but decided against it. With Jonathan, there was no winning.

"But, no matter. The past is the past." Jonathan continued. "Forgive and forget, right?" He smiled blandly. "Mother, you must admit," he looked to Jocelyn, "I am the perfect son. Handsome, I look just like Dad. And I'm strong, stronger than any other Shadowhunter." Jocelyn asked what he wanted, why he was there. "What I am owed." He replied darkly. "The legacy of the Morgenstern name."

Jocelyn shook her head. "Clary and I are not Morgensterns. And Eliza," she looked at her, green eyes fierce, "if you're as smart as I know you are, you will abandon the name as well." Eliza Fairchild didn't have quite the same ring to it as Eliza Morgenstern. She sounded like the Jocelyn she had first met. Fiery and resilient. "Go now and I won't tell the Clave you were here."

Jonathan didn't move. Their mother was crying and holding a knife she had fumbled from the counter. Luke's kindjal. The blade Valentine had pressed into his hand and told him to use to kill himself after he had become a werewolf.

"You're looking at me with all that contempt because I look just my father. That's it, isn't it?" Jonathan asked her. "But then, why do you not stare at Eliza the same way? She too looks just as he did."

"No." Jocelyn said, her voice sharp and sad. "I'm looking at you like this because I know what you are. I know that you're some…demon thing."

The words stung Eliza. She and Jonathan shared the same demon blood. He asked why she didn't turn her contemptuous gaze upon Eliza.

"I know her. I know she isn't like you. You've done something to her, turned her. She was never like you."

Jonathan smiled at her, his teeth gleaming. "See, Mother, that's where you're wrong. She's always been just like me. With me, she is her best self. Her true self."

Jocelyn shook her head defiantly. She knew better than that, she told him. Eliza had been graced with humanity, something Jonathan never had. Where he had to feign some shrapnel of emotion, Eliza felt. They may have looked the same, she said, but they would never be the same.

The kindjal came up in her hand, a perfectly made arc. Landed correctly, the blade would have gone clean up and under Jonathan's ribs, sliding into his heart.

He moved faster than most Shadowhunters, swiveling out of her range. The only damage done was a jagged slash across his chest.

"Damn it." Eliza muttered. She could see the bright bloom of scarlet beginning to stain Jace's shirt. She crossed the room hurriedly, kneeling down in front of him. "Are you okay?" She murmured, searching his face.

"I've had worse." He smiled faintly.

That he had.

Eliza stood up, her eyes narrowed at her mother. "Put the knife down, Mom." She instructed her.

Jocelyn held the knife in her hand, her eyes wavering between her two eldest children. "Eliza-."

"I said, put it down." Her words came out constricted and thick with anger.

"Mom, do it. Please." Clary put her hand on Jocelyn's shoulder.

Jonathan looked more than pleased at the fact that both of his sisters were defending him against their mother. "I'm flattered, honestly. It isn't every day both of my sisters vouch for my safety."

Clary glared back at him. "I am not defending you. I wouldn't give a rat's ass if you died. But if you die, then Jace dies. And your death would cause Eliza the same pain." She glanced at Jocelyn. "They're all bound together, Mom. Whatever hurts Jonathan will hurt Jace too. And Eliza is his parabatai now."

For flashing moment, a dangerous look flashed in Jocelyn's eyes. Eliza knew it all too well. The look of doing whatever it takes. It was the same look Valentine had in his eyes when he killed them back at Lake Lyn.

"This certainly is an uncomfortable family situation." Jonathan mused. "How lucky for all of us I have nowhere to be so that we can stick around and figure it out."

Eliza shot him a scolding look, whispering for him to tone it down a notch or four. "We didn't come to cause any harm." She told Jocelyn.

"I find that hard to believe."

Luke was standing in the hall. His face was bare of his glasses, an old sweater hanging misshapenly on him, paired with worn out jeans. Not hard to miss was the shotgun he carried, the barrel sawed down unevenly. "Leave Jace and Eliza behind, son of Valentine, and maybe I won't shoot off your leg."

Something about Luke's words made Jonathan smile. It was a grin that reached all across his face. He took several steps towards Luke, disregarding the shotgun pointed straight at him. "Not even acknowledged by a name, any name." Jonathan shook his head. "Son of Valentine, that is what I'm reduced to. You know, had the circumstances been different, Lucian," Jonathan smiled again, not as pleasantly as before, "you could have been my godfather."

Luke's finger made its presence on the trigger of the shotgun. "Maybe then you would have been human."

"You as well, werewolf."

The barrel wasn't aimed at his leg, not even close. It was centered perfectly on his chest. Right where his heart was. It would blow a hole right through him.

"I think that's quite enough for one evening." Eliza said tiredly. Her movements did not match her tone. She moved quickly towards her brother.

"Luke, no." Clary's voice was stringent.

Eliza grabbed his arm as Luke's finger pressed down on the trigger. Jace moved like lightning, launching from the couch towards Luke. He slammed into him, the blast from the gun ringing out. Eliza swung Jonathan around, replacing him where he had been standing.

She heard the window shatter. The gun was thrown out the window and she looked back.

Luke swung, punching Jace in the face. The force of the hit sent him hurtling into the wall.

An inhuman noise escaped from Jonathan. There was blood on his mouth, seeping from a thin cut on his bottom lip. He produced a thin dagger from his belt and shoved past Eliza. She reached, grabbing his arm. "Don't." She warned him.

He jerked away. With the speed only two other Shadowhunters possessed, he moved towards Luke and pushed the dagger into his chest. The thrust had gone deep, for when Jonathan pulled the dagger out, it was covered up to the hilt in blood.

Luke fell against the wall, holding his chest with his hand. She heard Jocelyn screaming wordlessly. Jonathan held the dagger in his hand, poised for another blow. A fatal one.

Clary knocked into him, the dagger falling to the floor. He whirled around on her. Jace grabbed Jonathan just as Eliza grabbed Clary, both holding them back.

"We didn't come here for this." Jace reminded Jonathan. "Stop." His face had lost its color. Jonathan struggled against him, but Jace didn't budge. He reached around, grabbing onto Jonathan's hand. The ring glinted at her.

She looked back at the family she was leaving behind. Luke, bleeding on the floor, ruining the carpet. Her mother, her hand curled around Luke's kindjal. Clary, looking at her as if she were a stranger.

Maybe she was.

"Lizzie." Jonathan hissed out. Under Jace's arm, his own was extending, reaching out for her. She took his hand and they were gone.