Chapter Twelve

"She'll be okay," Simon said, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Jace spared him a glance as he passed the bench Simon was sitting on; Jace was pacing the hallway outside the infirmary, his footsteps sharp and clipped. He counted his paces as he went: five-hundred-four, five-hundred-five, five-hundred-six...

"Jace," said Isabelle wearily from the floor, "stop pacing. It's making us all anxious."

Jace ignored her. Five-hundred-nine, five-ten, five-eleven...

He glanced up as he reached the end of the hallway; Jocelyn and Luke sat there, both white-faced, clutching each other's hands like lifelines. Jace swallowed and turned back around. Five-fifteen, five-sixteen, five-seventeen...

"She'll be okay," Simon said again.

"Will you stop saying that?" Jace snapped, rounding on him. "You don't know!"

"Well, I have to believe it!" said Simon angrily. "At least I'm not driving us all crazy by pacing back and forth—"

"Stop fighting," said Isabelle, sounding exhausted. "It won't do anyone any good."

Jace glared at Simon for a moment longer before resuming his pacing. Five-twenty-two, five-twenty-three, five-twenty-four...

"Any news?" said Alec as he approached. He sounded anxious.

Jace shook his head. "What's going on with the Pyxis?"

"Nothing, thankfully," said Magnus, joining them. "The demon's trapped in there. He won't be able to get out. I think he must have lured Clary upstairs somehow and forced her to open it. As long as none of us opens it again, he's stuck."

Jace nodded tersely and began to pace again. Five-twenty-six, five-twenty-seven...

"Jace, for the love of Raziel—" Isabelle began.

"What?" he snapped at her. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stop pacing!"

"I can't!" he shouted.

"Why not?" she said exasperatedly.

"Because this is all my fault!" He turned around and punched the wall, hard; there was a loud cracking noise, and bits of stone crumbled down. He wrenched his fist back, breathing heavily. His knuckles were already beginning to turn purple and swell.

"Let me see it," said Alec resignedly, reaching out to him, but he jerked back.

"No. Leave it alone." He began to pace again; he'd lost count. One...two...three...

"Jace," said Isabelle softly. "You know this isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is," he said in a hard voice. "The demon told me as much. I trapped him in that Pyxis, and he attacked her. He only did it to hurt me." He gave a hollow laugh. "And she took it. For weeks. She was trying to protect me. And now she might—" His throat tightened around the words. He swallowed with difficulty and picked up his pace, striding down the corridor. Thirteen, fourteen...

"Jace," Isabelle said again. "Look at me."

He turned around, slowing to a stop. She approached him; for a moment, he thought she might hug him. But then she raised her hand and slapped him full across the face, hard enough to make his neck crick. There was an exclamation from the others. Jocelyn's hands flew up to cover her mouth.

"Pull yourself together," Isabelle snapped. "You think you get to wallow in a pit about this? She was trying to protect you! Are you going to let all that be in vain? Are you going to let this asshole demon get exactly what he wanted?"

Jace stared at her, aghast. His cheek was stinging painfully. He had never seen Isabelle like this; she was breathing hard, her face flushed.

"N-no," he said finally.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Good. I knew you had some sense in that pea-sized brain of yours." She stormed away, flopping onto the bench beside Simon. He scooched away from her, looking slightly terrified.

At that moment, the infirmary doors opened. Jace sprang forward as Brother Enoch emerged, lowering his hood.

"Well?" Jace said, his voice tight.

She is alive.

There was a collective breath of relief; Jocelyn turned to Luke and buried her face in his shoulder, her body shaking.

"Wait," said Jace sharply, looking up into the Silent Brother's expressionless face. "What else?"

Brother Enoch hesitated for a moment before speaking again. She is still asleep. There is something dark in her, tethering her to unconsciousness. Some remnant of demonic presence. It is clinging to her very soul—any attempt to extract it would likely prove fatal.

"So—" Jace struggled to understand. "So what happens now? How do we get it out of her?"

Brother Enoch said nothing.

"Oh," Jace said, his voice hollow.

This is a battle only Clary can fight. It is possible she may be able to cleave herself of the demon.

"Right," said Jace numbly. "Possible."

Brother Enoch regarded him with something like pity. Do not lose hope, he said. She may yet endure.

Jace nodded tightly. "And..." His throat closed on the question.

The child is still alive and unharmed, said Brother Enoch, answering what was unasked. If Clary survives, she will likely be able to carry to term.

"Great," said Jace. His own voice sounded very far away. There was a pulsing drumbeat in his ears. "That's—good. Awesome."

The Silent Brother surveyed him. Clary's body and mind show signs of prolonged torture. Jace flinched at the word. Was the Clave informed of the demon and its effect on her?

"No," Jace said shortly.

Why not?

"Because you would have made her get an abortion," Jace said, looking straight into Brother Enoch's impassive face. "Wouldn't you?"

To allow a Prince of Hell access to a prominent Shadowhunter's mind—

"So that's a yes," said Jace. His temper was beginning to boil; it felt good to feel something. "And I don't suppose it would matter if I told you that she wanted to keep the baby, no matter what happened to her?"

The Clave needed to know that one of their leaders' minds was open to influence from a Prince of Hell, said Brother Enoch. There is no telling how much information he has gained about our world in this past month. And Clary has suffered when she did not need to.

Something inside Jace snapped. "Don't pretend this is about her suffering," he spat. "All you and the Clave care about is controlling what everyone else does. The demon's been sitting in the Institute for a month. Even without Clary, he would have been learning about our world. You want to act like you have some sort of control over anything that goes wrong, so you just grab the first thing you see, the easy answer. You'd have forced her to have an abortion even if she begged you not to, and the demon would still be here. So you can go to hell, for all I care."

"Jace!" Isabelle gasped, but he gave the Silent Brother one last piercing look before turning on his heel and striding down the corridor.

"Jace?" Isabelle said again, hurrying after him. "What—where are you going?"

"I'm going to kill the demon," said Jace savagely, turning a sharp right.

"Um," said Isabelle. "You can't kill him. Isn't that kind of the whole point?"

"Well, 'I'm going to banish him' doesn't have quite the same dramatic flair." He arrived in front of the elevator and punched the down button. There was a loud clank as it began to ascend.

"Jace, wait," said Isabelle, catching at his arm. "Don't you think you should—"

"Look, Magnus is right. The demon is only getting stronger," said Jace flatly. "It's time to get rid of him, once and for all." He prodded the button again, impatiently. "I'm going. Tell everyone to meet me downstairs."

She bit her lip. "Okay."

She squeezed his arm before releasing him and turning back. He watched her go, her long hair swinging as she turned the corner.

His hands were shaking; he thrust them into his pockets, balling them into fists. His left hand closed around the seraph blade in his pocket; he squeezed it, relishing in the pain as his bruised knuckles split open. He could feel the edges of Clary's rune against his palm. Distantly, he wondered if it might be the last rune she ever drew.

Don't be so morbid, said a voice in his head that sounded very much like Isabelle's. He shoved it aside as the elevator arrived, the grate clattering aside. He stepped in and slammed his fist against the button for the ground level, his knuckles stinging and smarting.

A little while later, Alec and Magnus joined Jace in the library just as he was pulling on the last of his gear.

"Brother Enoch won't tell the Clave," Alec informed Jace. "He said it doesn't matter now, since we're about to get rid of the demon anyway. Though I don't think he's pleased with you."

"Good," Jace said.

Alec gave him a searching look before turning away. "Are you sure we shouldn't wait until morning?" he asked Magnus. "The sun might give us an advantage."

"I doubt it," said Magnus, hoisting the duffel bag Jace had brought down onto a table and rummaging through its contents. "Sunlight wouldn't have affected him much anyway—he's a Prince of Hell. He was an angel once. And now he's gained enough power that daylight won't give him much more than a sunburn. I think we should do it as soon as possible, before he has the chance to try anything else."

"I agree," said Jace, sliding his feet into boots. "Let's get this over with." He began to tie his laces, flexing the throbbing fingers of his left hand.

"Let me heal your hand," said Alec. "You can't fight like that."

"With any luck, we won't need to fight," Jace replied shortly, struggling to undo a knot that had formed in one of the cords.

"Give me your goddamn hand," Alec snapped. Jace stared at him for a moment before straightening and silently holding his hand out. Alec seized it and began to gash an iratze into it. "And frankly, I agree with Isabelle," he added, finishing the rune with a violent slash and flinging Jace's hand back at him. "You want to be upset, be upset. God knows we're all worried about Clary. But you shutting down and spiraling into self-loathing doesn't help anything. So just act like a human being for once, will you?"

Jace glanced down at his healed hand. "Thanks," he said grudgingly.

"You're welcome," said Alec snippily, stalking away to gather weapons. Jace resumed the tying of his shoelaces with much more ease, to his chagrin.

"He's got a point, you know," said Magnus mildly.

Jace scowled at him, straightening up and zipping his gear jacket. He slid a stele, his sheathed sword, and three daggers into his belt, along with the runed seraph blade Clary had given him. He ran his thumb over the carved rune at the base of the tube again, imagining it was glowing with a gentle light.

At the sound of footsteps, Jace looked up. Simon and Isabelle entered the library.

"We got to the apothecary just before it closed," said Simon, holding up a paper bag. "This is everything we need."

Magnus took the bag from him and peered inside. "Great. Let's go banish a demon."

None of them smiled. Jace turned away, shoving extra weapons and gear into a duffel bag and zipping it shut. Isabelle and Simon began to silently pull on gear.

"Good, you haven't left yet," said a voice from the doorway. Jace glanced up; it was Luke. "No change in Clary," he added before anyone could ask. "I just wanted to know if you've thought about where you're going to do it. Banish him, I mean." He jerked his chin toward the Pyxis, which was sitting innocently on the table by the sofa, wrapped in a thick towel.

They all glanced at each other; Luke seemed to take their silence as a response. "Use the farm," he said. "My truck's outside. You know how to get there."

Alec nodded. "Thank you, Luke. Are you and Jocelyn staying back?"

"Yeah." He looked weary as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "We want to be here in case—anything happens." He looked away. "Jace, I want a word," he said abruptly.

Jace stared at him for a moment. "Yeah, all right," he said guardedly, setting the bag of weapons down. He followed Luke out into the hallway.

"Here," said Luke, holding out his keys.

Jace took them. "You didn't call me out here just to give me your keys," he said.

"No, I didn't." Luke took Jace's arm and pulled him further down the hallway. "Listen to me," he said quietly, once they were out of earshot of the library. "The moment you let that demon out, he's going to be fighting as hard as he can to stop you. He's going to try to taunt you, provoke you—"

"I know—"

"Let me finish," said Luke, in a harsh tone Jace had never heard him use before. He fell silent. Luke continued. "Whatever you do, do not let him get to you. You heard what Brother Enoch said—part of the demon is still inside Clary, and he might try to use that to anger you. He might hurt her, he might even kill her. So, whatever happens, you must stay in control. Do you understand me?"

Jace searched his father-in-law's eyes; they were darkened with fierce protectiveness—and behind that, fear.

"I get it," he said. "I'll be careful."

Luke gave a curt nod and turned away, heading back down the hallway. Jace watched him for a moment before going back into the library.

"Everything okay?" said Simon as Jace entered.

Jace ignored the question. "You can still drive, can't you?"

"Yeah," Simon said. Jace tossed him the keys. He caught them hastily.

"Magnus and I will Portal ahead of you," said Alec as Jace picked up the duffel bag full of weapons and slung it over his shoulder. "We'll set up the spell so it's ready by the time you get there."

"Great," said Jace. "See you in a bit, then."

Alec nodded, heading out of the room, and Magnus followed, picking up the bags full of ingredients for the spell. The doors shut heavily behind them.

Jace moved toward the sofa and picked up the Pyxis, securing the towel more tightly around it. It felt warm to the touch.

"Here, you guard this," said Jace, holding out the Pyxis to Isabelle.

"Is it...safe?" she said, eyeing it cautiously.

"You'll be fine as long as you don't take the towel off. It burned Tessa before." He offered it to her again, but she still made no movement to take it.

"Yeah, but...this thing got into Clary's head," said Izzy doubtfully.

"Only because she was pregnant. Is," Jace corrected himself sharply. "You'll be okay."

"Right." She glanced at Simon briefly.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Izzy, you're not—"

"I'm not," she said hastily. "Never mind. Here, give it over."

He handed it to her silently, glancing between her and Simon; they seemed to be meticulously avoiding eye contact.

"Let's go, then," he said eventually.

They both seemed relieved that he had broken the silence, and quickly set about gathering their things.

"After you," said Simon politely, gesturing toward Isabelle.

"Thank you," she said, in a similarly strange tone of politeness. Jace raised his eyebrows again as she moved ahead of them, leading the way out of the room.

"What's going on with you two?" he muttered to Simon as they followed Isabelle.

Simon turned a delicate shade of pink. "Nothing," he said, a little too quickly. "Come on, we've got a job to do." He hastened his pace, catching up with Izzy. Jace hurried after them.

Several minutes later, they were trundling along down the streets of New York. Though it was nearing midnight, there were still several cars on the road; Simon cursed under his breath as a heavily scuffed Prius swerved into their lane, zooming ahead of them only to brake hard at a red light. "What was the point in cutting me off, then?" Simon muttered to no one in particular.

Jace ignored him, glancing at Isabelle. He was sandwiched between the two of them, his shoulders pressing against them both. Isabelle looked out the window, drumming her fingers absently on the top of the Pyxis. As Jace watched, it seemed to pulse with a malevolent red light.

"I think you're making him angry," he told Isabelle.

She glanced at the Pyxis. "Asshole," she muttered.

"Who, me?"

She rolled her eyes. "The demon. Although, yeah, you too."

"What did I do?" Jace demanded, nettled.

Isabelle blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. "You're still wallowing," she said irritably.

"I'm not wallowing," Jace snapped. "I'm just worried, all right?"

"I know you, Jace," said Isabelle pointedly. "You're still blaming yourself for all of this. Will you just stop it already?"

Jace set his jaw, turning a stony gaze onto the road in front of them. Isabelle gave an exasperated sigh.

"Simon," she said, leaning around Jace, "back me up here."

"I'm not getting involved," said Simon, flicking his indicator on as he turned onto the deserted highway. Isabelle shot him a sharp glare. "Although," he added hastily, "I think Isabelle's right. I mean, what would Clary have wanted you to do?"

"Why are you talking about her like she's already dead?" Jace snapped.

Simon looked at him, his eyes wide. "Jace, I didn't mean—"

"Simon, look out!" Isabelle screamed.

Simon turned his gaze back to the road just as something huge swooped down in front of them. He swore loudly, swerving to the right.

"What the hell was that?" he gasped.

"Ouch!" Isabelle cried, jumping beside Jace. He looked at her to see her sucking her fingers. The Pyxis had tumbled off her lap and lay on the ground by her feet, the kitchen towel smoldering beneath it. "It burned me!" she said.

Suddenly, the Pyxis flared with scarlet light, like a star exploding in the car. The flash of light was gone as quickly as it had come—and then something heavy landed on the roof of the truck.

Blinking spots out of his vision, Jace peered out of the back window just as two winged demons fell out of the sky, landing in the bed of the truck.

Without thinking, Jace reached over Isabelle and rolled her window down. Cold air blasted into the car. "Simon, keep driving!" Jace shouted over the roar of the wind. "Isabelle, guard the Pyxis!"

"Jace, what are you—" Isabelle began, her voice rising, but Jace had already vaulted out of the window, hooking his fingers around the frame and using it to flip himself onto the roof of the car. He found himself a foot from the first demon—it resembled a large, deformed bird, with waxy black feathers and a bone-like beak. As it advanced on him, shrieking and flapping its wings menacingly, he yanked his sword out of its sheath and drove it through the demon's chest. It gave a screech of pain and began to fold in on itself. Jace leapt down into the bed of the truck, slashing out at the other two demons. Within seconds, they, too, collapsed with spurts of ichor and dissolved into nothingness.

"Incoming!" Simon shouted from inside the truck. Jace whirled around to see a dark, swarming cloud on the horizon, growing closer every second.

He swore.

Demons began to flood the air around the car. Planting his feet firmly in the bed of the truck, Jace yanked his stele out of his belt and carved Night-Vision and Agility runes into his arm. He shoved his stele away just as the first demons landed heavily among him. Iciness that had nothing to do with the chill wind descended on him; he felt that he had been waiting for a battle like this, itching for something to do all these weeks. Grinning madly, he began to whirl, his sword tracing arcs in the air as he decimated demon after demon. Flicking ichor-drenched hair out of his eyes, he turned his attention to the next one, holding his sword at the ready.

The truck jolted under him, and he staggered as it swung hard to the left. He swore loudly. "Damn it, Simon, can't you drive any better?" he shouted.

"Are you seriously criticizing my driving right now?" Simon shouted back. "Excuse me if I'm trying to escape a horde of demons!"

"I'm the one fighting the demons, and your terrible driving isn't helping!"

"Will both of you SHUT UP and FOCUS!" said Isabelle.

Jace didn't have time to answer; a demon dove straight for his face, and he swung out with his sword, cutting it clean in half. It shrieked and dissolved. The demon he had been approaching used the moment of confusion to lunge for him, and he sliced its head off deftly. The demon tumbled off the back of the truck and rolled away, its momentum carrying it down the highway as it collapsed inward.

He spun around, his sword steady in his hand—but there were no more demons to fight. He was standing in a clear inch of ichor, the black liquid sloshing around in the base of the truck. He squinted into the distance, sharp eyes searching for the slightest movement, but the skies were clear and empty.

The ichor was beginning to eat through his gear; grimacing, Jace waded back toward the cabin of the truck and climbed back in through the window.

"Jace, you're dripping ichor everywhere!" Izzy complained as he flopped down next to her. He peeled his soaked gear jacket off, tossing it onto the dashboard. It sizzled, smoking slightly. His skin was blistering slightly from the ichor that had leaked through, but he hardly felt it.

"Do you need healing runes?" Simon asked, glancing sideways at him.

Jace shook his head. He was aware that he was still grinning from ear to ear. He leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly.

"Are you all right, Jace?" said Isabelle, surveying him.

"I'm fine. I'm great," he said. His heart was still pumping hard, his veins buzzing with adrenaline. "How much further to the farm?"

"A few more hours," Simon said, watching him warily.

"Step on it," Jace told him.

He saw Simon exchange a glance with Isabelle before turning his attention back to the road. They shot off toward the horizon.

Pain and darkness were all she knew. She didn't know her own name, didn't know whether she was alive or dead, or whether she was even real. She was nearly blind in the crushing blackness, the only thing in her sight the scarlet smoke that curled around her body, searing her skin where it touched her. She screamed soundlessly, struggling futilely.

Give up, whispered a sinister voice in her mind. The coils of smoke tightened around her, more like fiery ropes than vapor. Give up.

I can't, she thought desperately, though she wasn't sure why. I won't.

"...Clary..."

Something warm surged through her; she heard a tiny shriek as she freed herself from the vicelike coils, crawling away into further blackness. A burning tendril of smoke wrapped around her ankle, snaking its way back up her body until she was enveloped in its grip once more.

Give up, it hissed again.

No! The thought was more forceful this time. She didn't know what would happen if she gave in, or what was waiting for her if she won—she only knew that she had to keep fighting.

"...Clary..."

Her hearing seemed to sharpen, the smoke around her loosening as that strange warmth flooded her body again.

"Clary, baby..."

"Hey. Any change?"

"No. Not yet."

The voices sounded as if they were filtering down to her, as if she were lying on the ocean floor and they were on land.

"Luke...she'll be okay, right?"

"...I hope so."

"She will be. She has to be. I'm not losing her. Not like this."

"Jocelyn—"

"Mom," Clary whispered. Her voice dissipated on the air, a breath of silence.

"Did her finger just move?"

"Sweetheart...I think you just jostled it."

"No. It moved. I swear it did."

"Jocelyn..."

"Why won't you believe me?!"

She wanted to sob, but no sound could come from her throat. The coils of smoke began to tighten around her chest.

"I just don't want you to get your hopes up. You know I want to believe it as much as you do."

"Mom," Clary cried soundlessly. "I'm here. I'm here!"

Give up, snarled the voice in her ear.

"Clary, baby...come back to me."

She opened her mouth to respond, but smoke spiraled up her body and around her throat, and she sank into the depths of the darkness once more.

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly, next week will be the finale of Part One, after which I'll be taking a short hiatus. In the interim, I was thinking of doing a Q&A, so if that's something you'd be interested in, please let me know!

Second, I'm considering updating twice a week for Part Two, so again, please let me know if you'd prefer that.

Finally, if you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! We're so close to 50!

Thanks so much for reading!

~4L