A/N: Hello! Thank you all for your lovely reviews on last chapter! I've made you wait long enough, so without further ado, on to Part II!
PART TWO: RAIN
Chapter Fourteen
Summer ended and fall arrived, bringing with it leaves of gold and russet and scarlet, wind laced with notes of spice and smoke, and sunsets so vivid and brilliant that Clary longed for her paints and pencils for the first time in weeks. Indeed, when she was in the infirmary (Jace insisted she rest there for a few days as her body recovered from the physical strain of being possessed), she had asked Jace to move her bed closer to the window so she could see the sunsets. He had brought her her art supplies before she could even ask for them; she had responded by kissing him so deeply that Isabelle gagged and left the room, vowing not to come back until they had "stopped acting like horny teenagers."
The passing weeks brought other changes as well. Slowly, Clary's nausea eased, her energy redoubled, and, most notably, her stomach began to swell.
"This is so weird," she said one morning, poking the small, firm bump. "I swear this wasn't here yesterday."
Jace finished making the bed and came over to her, catching her hand as she went to prod her belly again. "Stop poking the baby," he said.
She laughed. Pulling away from him, she turned to the side and pulled her tank top up so he could see her belly. "Well? What do you think? Do I look pregnant yet?"
He surveyed her for a moment. "Hmm...are you sure you didn't just eat a big dinner last night?"
She swatted him. "You calling me fat, Herondale?" she demanded.
"Never," he promised. "Cross my heart." He leaned in towards her, kissing her nose, then her lips. Then, surprisingly, he ducked his head and kissed her bare belly. She giggled. He ran his hand across her stomach before turning back to the bed to adjust the pillows. "You slept better last night," he said, his tone deceptively light.
Clary felt her smile falter. "You stayed up again."
"It's not forever," Jace reminded her gently. "Just until you stop having nightmares. And like I said, you slept better, didn't you?"
"I guess," said Clary grudgingly. Jace smiled with satisfaction. "Don't be so smug," she added, frowning at him. "I still think you staying up is ridiculous. It's—it's not like we know how long this is going to go on."
Jace watched her with a knowing look in his eye. Clary turned away quickly, pulling on her robe.
"Clary," he said softly. "Look at me." She did, reluctantly. "Please talk to me," said Jace.
Clary sighed, sinking down onto the bed. "I just..." she began. "I just hate that this is still happening. And it's not even him. It's my own stupid brain. I mean, he's gone, he's gone for good. So why—" Her voice cracked. "Why does he still have this power over me?"
"He doesn't," said Jace gently, sitting beside her. "And it's not stupid, Clary. You went through something horrible. Of course some of it is going to linger. You just have to give it time. It's only been a few weeks. You'll heal eventually. And I'll be here the whole time."
Clary gave him a fleeting smile. "The whole time? Won't you get bored of me?" she said teasingly.
"Would you get bored looking at the Sistine Chapel every night?" said Jace with a very cheeky grin.
Clary rolled her eyes. "Your charms don't work on me anymore, you know."
"Oh, don't they?" said Jace in a sultry tone. He bent his head toward her, brushing his lips against hers. She leaned into him instinctively, and he slid his tongue into her mouth with practiced ease.
She sighed, withdrawing reluctantly. "As much as I would love to keep doing this," she said, running a finger down his chest and grinning at how it made him shiver, "there's a huge stack of paperwork waiting for us downstairs."
"Burn it," said Jace fervently, kissing her again. Against her better judgment, she let him pull her down onto the bed, wrapping herself around him.
"I lied earlier," said Jace.
They lay in bed together, limbs tangled between them, sweat clinging to their hair and skin. Jace was tracing patterns across her skin with the tip of his finger. It lingered for a moment beside the scar of the burn on her chest before continuing to move.
"Oh?" said Clary lightly. She looked up at him; his eyes glimmered.
"You do look pregnant," Jace said.
"Do I?" She smiled, and Jace put his finger against the hollow of her throat, drawing it down between her breasts and over the gentle curve of her belly. Clary felt goosebumps erupt on her skin.
"You're gorgeous," Jace murmured. She shivered.
"Stop that," she chided him.
"Stop what?" he said mischievously. He sucked at the skin above her collarbone.
She smacked his head lightly. "Stop trying to seduce me! We have work to do. We were supposed to get a new shipment of weapons from the Adamant Citadel today, and we'll need to sort and catalogue them."
"Mm, you sound so sexy when you talk administration to me," Jace growled.
Clary brushed her finger across his lips. "Paperwork," she whispered. "Organization." She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. "Downworlder negotiations and conflict mediation," she breathed into his ear.
He gave a low groan and pulled her down for a kiss. She giggled. "Are you actually turned on right now?"
"You could recite the Codex to me and I'd be turned on," Jace said, nipping lightly at her lower lip.
"Stop," Clary whined, "or we'll never get out of bed."
"So what?"
Clary rolled her eyes and pushed herself off him. At that moment, her phone chimed. She reached over and grabbed it. A text from Simon appeared on the screen: Hey, can Izzy and I come over? We need to get out of the apartment.
"Tell him to go screw himself," Jace advised her, looking over her shoulder. She smacked him again and began to type. Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?
Simon replied almost instantly. Yup, see you soon.
Clary sent a thumbs-up emoji and turned back to Jace. "Well, I guess we have no choice but to get up now," she said.
"Or," Jace suggested, "we could stay in bed and make them do all our work for us."
Clary gave an exasperated sigh and rolled out of bed, yanking him up with her. He gave a yelp as he fell onto the floor with a loud thud.
"Why are you both in your pajamas?" Simon said as he and Isabelle entered the kitchen. "It's one in the afternoon."
Clary looked over her shoulder at Jace. "We got held up this morning," she said, fixing him with a stern look. He grinned and pulled the waffle iron out of the cabinet as Clary finished whisking together the batter. "Breakfast?" she added to Simon and Izzy.
"Again," said Simon, "it's one in the afternoon."
Clary scowled at him. "Breakfast for lunch, then, you judgmental ass?"
"Ignore my husband," said Isabelle sharply. "Waffles would be great."
Clary glanced between them as they both sat down at the table. They were both holding themselves rather stiffly, and there seemed to be an oddly distant air about them.
"Are you guys—" she began, but before she could finish, there was a loud clattering from behind her. She turned to see Jace fiddling with the plug of the waffle iron.
"Has this thing always been so damn difficult?" he demanded, stabbing at the socket.
Clary sighed and went over to look. "You bent it," she said exasperatedly, examining the plug. As she tried to fix the metal prongs, Jace moved around the kitchen, gathering toppings.
"I would like you to know," he told Simon and Isabelle as he pulled a canister of whipped cream and a carton of strawberries out of the fridge, "that you two interrupted some very sexy business between my wife and I this morning."
"What a tragedy," said Isabelle tonelessly. "And also, gross."
Clary, having bent the plug back into shape, plugged in the waffle iron. The red light at its base began to blink. "Jace, I would really rather you kept our sex lives to ourselves," she said.
"Where's the fun in that?" he said, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, interlocking his fingers over her stomach. She smiled despite herself, leaning into him for a moment before extricating herself from his grip. The waffle iron beeped, and she picked up the bowl of batter.
"Why don't you make yourself useful and go check the mail?" she said, pouring batter into the iron.
"I'll do it later," said Jace unconcernedly, leaning against the counter. Clary rolled her eyes and closed the lid of the iron, flipping it. As she turned to reprimand him, she caught sight of Simon. He was staring at her stomach.
"Something wrong?" said Clary.
He averted his eyes. "You're—uh—showing," he said awkwardly.
Clary smiled, laying her hand over her belly. "Yeah, I know," she said, looking down at the little bump.
There was a loud bang. Clary jumped. Isabelle had knocked over her chair. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I—hey, let me go check your mail for you." And she hurried out of the room.
Clary stared after her. Simon seemed to wilt in his chair. The waffle iron beeped again, and Jace went over to it, glancing significantly at Clary. She approached Simon.
"Are you guys okay?" said Clary uncertainly.
"Yeah. Fine," said Simon dully. Clary folded her arms, looking him in the eye. He sighed. "We had a fight. That's why we came over. We just needed to get out of the apartment."
"Yeah, you said," Clary replied. "What was the fight about?"
"Nothing. It's fine," Simon mumbled. "So, hey, big milestone," he added feebly.
She narrowed her eyes at him; his expression begged her to let it go.
"Yeah," she said finally. "Pretty big milestone."
Jace slid a plate holding a fluffy waffle onto the table. "First one's up for grabs," he said, heading back over to the iron.
"You go on," Simon said, nodding at Clary. "I'm not that hungry."
She was going to protest, but her stomach gave a loud rumble. Sitting down opposite him, she pulled the waffle toward her, adding liberal amounts of whipped cream to it.
Isabelle came back into the kitchen. "You had a letter from the Consul and there was a big box of weapons, I can take it up to the armory if you want," she said all in one breath. "Here," she added, holding out an envelope.
Clary took it. "Uh, that's okay, Izzy, we'll take it up ourselves." She set the letter on the table and stood up, taking her plate with her.
"What are you doing?" said Jace as he turned the iron over and set it to cook.
"It needs something else," said Clary, digging around in the fridge. She opened a jar of mayonnaise and squinted at its contents before returning it to the fridge. "Oh!" She pulled out a bottle of ranch and dumped some onto her waffle.
Jace gagged. "That's disgusting." Clary glared at him before grabbing a handful of blueberries and adding them to her plate. Jace turned a strange shade of green. "Are you seriously going to eat that?"
Clary popped a defiant bite into her mouth. "It's good. You should try it," she said with her mouth full.
Jace shook his head as he opened the iron, sending steam spiraling up toward the ceiling. "Is this one of those crazy pregnancy things?"
"You calling me crazy?"
"No," said Jace hastily. "Absolutely not. Your waffle looks fantastic."
"Thank you," said Clary loftily, beginning to walk away. Then she turned back around, grabbed the bottle of ranch, and brought it with her to the table. Isabelle was still standing awkwardly at its end. "Uh," Clary said as she pulled out her chair, "do you want to sit down?"
"Oh, right," said Isabelle. She sat, leaving an empty chair between her and Simon. He glanced at her briefly. Clary took another bite of her waffle, chewing it slowly as she looked between them.
Jace set another waffle onto the table. "Who wants it?" he said.
Simon and Isabelle looked at each other. "You can—" Simon began.
"No, you take it," said Isabelle.
"Really, it's—"
"Take it, Simon," Isabelle said firmly. She got up again, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with water at the sink.
"Izzy," Simon said hesitantly, "maybe we should—"
"Crap!"
There was the sound of something breaking. Clary turned to see Isabelle sucking at her finger, shards of glass littering the counter. As Clary watched, a bead of blood rolled down Isabelle's finger and landed in the shallow water, blooming like smoke.
Hello, sister mine.
Can't you pretend you're even a little happy to see me?
That child could have been mine, you know.
Can you bring yourself to destroy it?
Clary was suddenly on her feet. The world seemed to recede around her—she couldn't breathe—she felt like she was going to vomit—
She dashed out of the room, clamping a hand over her mouth. It felt as if the hallway were getting smaller. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall, gasping, but no amount of breath could slow her cantering heart or make her hands stop trembling, and she could hear the smooth drawl of Sebastian's voice as if he were right beside her—
"Clary?" said a voice. She flinched, pressing herself harder into the wall. "Clary." Jace's face swam in front of her. "You're okay. Deep breaths."
She slid to the floor, burying her face in her hands. Her head dropped between her knees as she sucked in a breath, forcing it all the way down into her stomach. She could feel her pulse in her fingertips, in her cheekbones—it felt like every nerve had been lit up with electricity. Her face was damp.
She felt Jace kneel beside her. "You're okay," he said again, softly. She dug her nails into her calves, the sharp pain focusing her.
It was a long few minutes before her heart rate began to slow. At last, Clary lifted her head; Jace was watching her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice sticking in her throat. She cleared it. "I don't know what happened. I just—I panicked."
"Why?"
"I..." Her voice shook. She drew in a stabilizing breath. "That night," she began, "when Isabelle got attacked by that Cecaelia..."
"Yeah?" said Jace, prompting her gently.
"I went to get a glass of water and I—I saw...I saw Sebastian." She swallowed hard. "And I thought it was a dream, but...it was real, and he could—touch me—" A fresh wave of tears threatened to undo her. She fought it back. "He almost made me...hurt the baby. I felt like I was going insane."
Jace was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "Beelzebub told me. He said he sent you hallucinations. I didn't know..."
"It was awful," Clary whispered. "I never thought I'd have to see him again, but he—and then, for a week, he was just always there, whispering in my ear, taunting me..." She rubbed her arms. "It's over," she said, trying to convince herself. "It's over. He's gone."
"He is," said Jace gently. "This is good, Clary. Talking about it is good."
"I feel..." She steadied herself. "I feel like he still has this hold on me. Like I'm never going to break free." Her lower lip wobbled, and she bit down hard on it.
"You will," Jace said softly. "The nightmares, this panic—it'll pass. You just have to make it through today. And then tomorrow. One day at a time." She nodded, wiping clumsily at her face. Jace reached out and brushed away her tears. "You feel like getting up?"
"Yeah." Jace offered his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her up. "Wait," she said as he made to go back into the kitchen. She approached him carefully and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. His arms came up around her, holding her tight. He kissed the top of her head. "Okay," she said, pulling away. "Now I'm ready."
Jace went back into the kitchen first, Clary following. Simon and Isabelle glanced up, both looking relieved; they seemed to have been sitting in silence. Someone had cleaned up the broken glass, and Isabelle's finger looked unharmed.
"Everything okay?" said Simon. Clary nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and sat back down at the table, picking at her waffle. She took a deep breath and began to eat slowly.
"I think I'm going to go home," said Isabelle abruptly, standing up.
"Oh," said Simon, looking up at her. "Okay. See you later."
She left the kitchen without another word.
"Not that it's my place or anything," said Jace, "but I think you guys need to work some stuff out."
"You're right," Simon snapped. "It's not your place." He stood up too, abandoning his half-finished waffle. "I'll go put those weapons in the armory." He strode out of the room without looking back.
"Hey, at least we can say we're not as dysfunctional as those two," said Jace, coming over with a plate and sitting down beside Clary. She gave a weak smile.
"That's my parabatai and your sister you're talking about," she chided half-heartedly.
"Which gives me the right to say exactly what I think about them," Jace said seriously. He cut his waffle in two and placed half on Clary's nearly empty plate. "Eat it," he said as she opened her mouth to protest. "I know you're hungry."
She couldn't deny it. Smiling softly at him, she picked up the bottle of ranch and poured some onto the waffle.
"I still think that's disgusting," Jace said.
Clary gave a soft laugh. "I love you anyway."
He kissed her cheek. "Love you, too."
The rest of the day passed in relative placidity. Simon bid them goodbye in the early evening after having helped them organize and restock the armory. Jace subsequently set about reshelving and reorganizing books in the library. This left Clary to answer the Consul's letter, which requested a needlessly detailed list of dates on which they would be holding Conclave meetings and the topics they planned to cover.
"You're going cross-eyed," Jace told her as he slid a thick tome onto a bookshelf, two hours after Clary had begun compiling the necessary information.
"Why is it," she said, putting her head down on the desk, "that there never seem to be enough weeks in the year to get things done?"
"Who can say?" Jace said, coming over and perching on the desk. "Here, we can cut this meeting. Who needs to know about the demon reports anyway?"
"You're really not helping!"
Jace sighed. "I think you need a break."
She lifted her head, squinting at him. "You think?"
He grinned at her. "Come on, O Esteemed Institute Head. Play hooky with me. Shirk your duties. Whatever the kids say nowadays."
"You're twenty-five," Clary pointed out. "Although I don't think anyone has said 'shirk' since the eighteen-hundreds."
"My prodigious lexicon is severely underappreciated," Jace said. He held out his hand to her. "So?"
Smiling slightly, she slid her hand into his. "Where are we going?"
"On a walk. You need to relax," he said, pulling her out of her chair. She let him lead her down the hallway and into the entrance hall, where he paused to duck into the niche by the door. He emerged with two daggers and a seraph blade strapped to his belt.
"Are we expecting trouble?" Clary asked innocently.
Jace's eyes glittered with a dark humor. "I always expect trouble."
"I thought this was supposed to be relaxing."
Jace grinned at her. "I always feel most relaxed when I know I have something to defend myself with."
"You would," Clary muttered, pushing open the doors. Jace followed, shutting the doors behind them and taking her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. They began to walk, heading through the gates and turning onto the sidewalk. Clary took in a lungful of cool air, sighing it out.
"This relaxing enough for you, Mrs. Herondale?" Jace said.
She frowned at him. "Mrs. Herondale? When have I ever been Mrs. Herondale?"
"Well, 'Clary Fairchild, wife of Jace Herondale and mother of the future Herondale offspring' is a bit of a mouthful, don't you think? 'Mrs. Herondale' covers all the criteria."
"'Future Herondale offspring'?" Clary glanced at him with some amusement. "Why don't I call you Mr. Fairchild instead? Is your masculinity too fragile for that?"
He laughed. "I think we both know I'm very secure in my masculinity."
"Mm," Clary said. "Some might say too much so."
"They're clearly intimidated by me."
This time it was Clary's turn to laugh. "Sure, Jace. Whatever makes you feel better."
He brought their entwined hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. They turned the corner; the wind shifted slightly, bringing a smell of ripe garbage their way. Clary wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. New York." She moved closer to Jace as a bicyclist rode past them. "So," she said, "why all the sudden talk of 'Mrs. Herondale'?"
He was quiet for a moment. "I guess with all of this...I've just been thinking. About our child's last name. Because when I chose the name 'Herondale'..."
"It was because the name would die out otherwise," Clary said. "I remember."
"But even if the baby gets my last name, you'd still be a Fairchild. And if—if something happened to you...I wouldn't want him to think you weren't a Herondale, too." He passed a hand over his eyes. "I know it doesn't make much sense."
"Do you want me to change my name to Herondale?" Clary asked.
He shook his head. "Not if you don't want to. I know the Fairchild name is important to you, too."
"Maybe we should hyphenate," Clary said. "We could all be the Fairchild-Herondales."
He smiled. "I think I'd like that."
Clary bit her lip. "So you've been thinking about last names. Have you been thinking about...first names?" She put her hand on her slightly-protruding stomach.
His smile grew. "A little. Have you?"
Before Clary could answer, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She listened closely to their surroundings; beneath the sound of skittering leaves on pavement and the wind against hard concrete, there was a soft clicking sound behind them. The smell of garbage intensified.
Clary moved closer to Jace, on the pretense of seeking warmth. "There's something following us," she breathed.
She felt his muscles grow taut, but he continued to walk casually. "How close?"
"Close."
His hand tightened around hers. "You need to go."
She shook her head, sliding the seraph blade out of his belt. "We're doing this together."
He exhaled, nodding slowly. "Okay. On my mark."
They continued to stroll down the street; an alley loomed up ahead. Whistling softly, Jace made his way toward it. The clicking behind them grew louder.
The alley was a dead end; trash bags were piled up against the brick wall, nearly blocking the back door of a soup kitchen. Clary tried to hold her breath as the stench of rotting garbage grew around them.
"I think there's more than one," she whispered. Almost as soon as she said it, there was a snarling sound from the main road, followed by another series of clicking noises. Jace pulled her into the shadows, listening intently. Clary edged toward the road—
And a Ravener demon leapt from the rooftop, landing right in front of her.
"Clary!" Jace shouted, but she had already sprung into motion, dodging the Ravener's long barbed tail and bringing the seraph blade to her mouth.
"Eremiel!" she cried. The alley exploded with light. The Ravener got out half a screech before Clary plunged the blade into its side. It collapsed, folding in on itself.
Behind her, Jace grunted as another Ravener shot into the alley from the road, hissing and spitting. Clary could barely make out words: "Where is he? We want—"
Jace drove a dagger up through the base of its mouth. It shrieked and fell to the ground, twitching.
"Jace," Clary gasped, looking up. The bright moon was blocked out by shadowy, hulking figures on the rooftops.
The demons landed heavily around them; within seconds, Jace and Clary were side by side, weapons flashing in the night.
"How is it," Clary panted, "that you always seem to have weapons on you when demons sneak up on us?"
Jace smiled grimly. "Because I rarely go unarmed."
Clary thrust her seraph blade between a demon's ribs. "When we finish this, we need to have a serious discussion about your eternal paranoia."
"Isn't it only paranoia if the things you're worried about don't actually come true?" Jace pointed out, using both of his daggers to slash a demon's throat with a scissoring motion.
"WE WANT HIM!" another demon screeched, scuttling toward Clary.
"You're going to have to be more specific," Clary told it.
The demon snarled. "Him. The boy who killed him."
Clary sighed. "You demons and your pronouns. Always so vague." And before the demon could respond, she drove her blade into its eye.
"Ugh," she said, pulling it back out as the demon began to crumple. It was covered in a sludgy mixture of ichor and brain matter. "I think my morning sickness is coming back."
"Ha—"
There was a squishing sound, followed by a strangled gasp. Clary turned around as a Ravener retracted its pointed tail, pulling it out of Jace's shoulder.
"Jace!" Clary screamed. He grunted and fell to his knees, clasping his shoulder. Blood gushed between his fingers.
"Mine," the Ravener hissed, skulking toward Jace. Clary flung the seraph blade at it; it hit home between the Ravener's eyes, and the demon caved in, taking the blade with it.
Gasping and drenched in sweat, Clary spun around; but the demons were gone, every last one of them killed. Jace collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving.
Clary dashed to his side, dropping down beside him. "Jace—it's okay, don't move—"
"Move?" Jace managed, breath coming out in short bursts. "I could—go for a—lovely stroll, if not—for the waterfall of—blood coming from my—shoulder."
Clary scowled at him. "Now is not the time for quipping! Just give me your stele."
"Ahh...stele..."
Clary's heart plummeted. "You don't have a stele?" she demanded. "You bring half the armory with you, and you didn't think to bring a stele?"
"Half the armory," Jace mumbled disbelievingly. "I brought three blades."
Shaking, Clary bent over him and tore a strip from the bottom of his t-shirt.
"Hey," he said, sounding annoyed. "I like this shirt."
"I need to stop the bleeding."
"Why can't we use your shirt?" Jace whined as she wadded up the white material and pressed it to the gushing wound. It began to redden instantly.
"Because my shirt is silk and won't absorb anything!" Clary snapped. "Would you rather I save the shirt or your life?"
"Just don't see why my stuff always gets ruined in demon attacks..." Jace muttered.
Clary sighed. "I'm covered in ichor, Jace. My clothes are just as bad as yours, all right?"
He didn't answer; she glanced at his face to see that his eyelids had shut. Her stomach dropped. "Jace! Jace, goddamn it, wake up!" She slapped him. He gasped, his eyes flying open.
"Ouch," he said, squinting at her. "What did I do?"
"Don't fall asleep!" she cried. "You have to stay awake, okay? You're losing a lot of blood." She pressed the sodden strip of fabric harder into his shoulder; he bucked, letting out a strangled groan. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just need to control this bleeding," she said, her voice shaking. "Here, can you hold this?"
He moaned, his eyes going out of focus. Clary reached over him and grabbed his good arm, pulling it across his chest and arranging his fingers on the ball of fabric. "Jace," she said gently, "I need you to press this into your shoulder. Just for a few seconds, okay? I'm going to try to bind the wound."
He grunted and pressed his palm into his shoulder. With shaking hands, Clary tore more material off the bottom of his shirt, ripping it into strips.
"Lucky I look good in a crop top," Jace wheezed.
"Save the sarcasm for later, you need your energy," Clary said, using her teeth to pull out a stubborn stitch.
"Sarcasm?" Jace said, sounding affronted. Clary shook her head and moved his hand away, replacing the saturated fabric with a fresh, wadded-up strip and wrapping another strip around his shoulder. She pulled it tight and knotted it.
"How does that feel?" she said anxiously, sitting back on her heels.
"Feels..." His eyelids drooped again. "Feels okay."
"Okay." She drew in a deep breath. "Jace?"
"Mm?"
"We need to get back to the Institute." She was speaking very clearly; his eyes looked like they were trying to focus on her. "I need you to sit up and put your good arm around me."
"You have stars in your eyes," he said dreamily.
"Jace." She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Do you understand me? I need you to sit up." She slid her arm beneath him, helping him up. He gave a sharp cry, nearly falling on her; it took all her strength to pull his arm around her shoulders and heave him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her.
"Ow," he mumbled.
"I know," Clary said, already panting from the effort of supporting him. "It's not far, okay? We just have to get back to the Institute, and then I can heal you." She dragged him to the end of the alleyway. He stumbled drunkenly, barely putting one foot in front of the other.
"Your hair is like fire," he murmured. "Like a good fire, like in a fireplace. Not like a bad one. Not burning down a building. Are you an arsonist? I think we know an arsonist."
Clary sighed, lugging him down the block.
"Clary?" he said after a long moment.
She flung a sweat-soaked piece of hair out of her eyes. "Yes?"
"I think...I think I'm gonna take a nap."
Clary's heart skittered in her chest. She looked at him; his eyes were half-shuttered, and the makeshift bandage on his shoulder was reddening. "Jace," she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. "Listen to me. You can't sleep right now, okay? I need your help to get back, I can't carry you."
"I can...help..." He was seriously slurring his words now. "Jus needa...nap..."
"Jace, talk to me," she said sharply, pulling him more quickly down the street. A moan escaped him. "Tell me a story, okay?"
"O...kay..." He drew in a deep breath, his eyes focusing. "Alec and I were eleven...were in the training room...learning to jump..."
"That's good," said Clary, staggering around the corner. Her legs were shaking. "What else?"
"I think...he was...scared. But he still...tried to...teach me..." He gave a rattling gasp, his nails digging into her side.
"Keep going," Clary urged him. "What happened?"
"I can't...I can't remember..."
"We're almost there," Clary panted, dragging him forward. She could see the rising spires of the Institute. "Almost there, Jace, did you hear me?"
"Almost..."
He slumped against her, his weight knocking her to the ground. They landed in a heap, Jace on top of her. Clary pushed herself out from underneath him. He was breathing shallowly. The bandage was soaked through. Clary swore under her breath. "Jace, come on," she whispered, shaking him. His head lolled. "Come on, please, Jace, please..." He didn't stir.
Clary swallowed, looking up at the shadowed Institute. She grit her teeth and put her hands under Jace, hooking her elbows around his shoulders and pulling him half to his feet. Straining under his weight, she began to drag him backwards toward the Institute. By the time she reached the gates, sweat was pouring down her back in rivulets. She pulled him up the steps, setting him down on the cool marble. Her stomach turned over as she saw that the bandage had slid aside, letting blood pour down his arm. He had gone chalk-white.
"It's okay," she gasped, half to herself. "You're okay, you're—" She pulled herself to her feet, staggering into the Institute. Her frantic hands knocked aside the weapons in the alcove, digging right to the back and closing around something long and thin.
Clutching the stele tightly, Clary dove back outside and knelt beside Jace, tearing his shirt off his shoulder and inking an iratze next to the gaping wound. "Come on," she muttered, "come on, please..."
Slowly, painstakingly, the skin began to knit itself back together.
Clary exhaled, her fingers trembling. She tightened her hold on the stele and drew a Blood-Replenishing rune beside the now-fading iratze.
Jace gave a soft groan, his eyelids fluttering open. "Ow," he croaked.
"Oh, thank the Angel," Clary whispered, bending over him and pressing her lips to his. "I have never been so happy to hear you complain."
"Who's complaining?" Jace slurred. "I feel...great. Ready to go...fight some demons."
"Sure you are," Clary said, smiling with relief. "You're going to be fine, Jace." She collapsed beside him, the adrenaline draining out of her body. "You're going to be fine," she said again, clutching his hand.
Suddenly, a loud whooshing noise cut through the night, accompanied by a bright blue light from around the corner of the Institute. A moment later, a familiar voice called across the grounds.
"Jace! Jace, are you here?"
Clary sat up. "Alec!"
He came running around the corner. "What happened?" he said, dashing up the steps. "Does he need runes? Are you okay? Is he okay?"
"Well, he'd prefer if you didn't talk about him like he isn't here," Jace murmured, half-opening his eyes. Alec exhaled.
"I'm fine, but he lost a lot of blood," Clary explained. "I put on an iratze and an amissio, but it wouldn't hurt to have you do some." She handed the stele to him. He took it and began to trace more runes along Jace's collarbone.
"What happened?" he asked again. "It felt like something had stabbed him."
"Demons," Jace mumbled, frowning. "A big stinking group of them."
"They snuck up on us," Clary told Alec as he finished a rune.
"Is that better?" Alec said anxiously, his stele poised over Jace. "I can do more if you—"
Jace waved a hand. "I'm fine," he drawled. "You guys worry too much. Besides, my gorgeous, sexy wife can heal me up whenever..."
Clary felt her face burn. "He lost a lot of blood," she mumbled again.
Alec looked as though he were trying very hard not to laugh. "I can tell." He stood. "Let me help you carry him inside."
Between the two of them, they managed to get Jace upstairs. He shot finger guns at Alec as they lowered him into bed.
"You're cool," Jace told him drowsily. "You're a cool guy."
"You should take a video of him," Alec said to Clary, grinning. "Use it as blackmail."
"I like blackmail," said Jace musingly. "Wait, who are we blackmailing?"
Clary ignored him, turning to Alec. "Do you need a Portal back?"
He shook his head. "I'll call Magnus. But can you tell me more about what happened? Do we need to be worried about these demons?"
"I don't think so," Clary said, but she told him the whole story of what had happened. By the end, he was frowning.
"But they were looking for something," he said, folding his arms.
"Someone, I think," Clary said. "One of them said they wanted 'the boy who killed him.'"
"Pronouns," Alec said exasperatedly. "Would it kill a demon to give us actual names every now and then?"
"Yeah, probably," Clary pointed out. "Anyway, I think we should keep an eye out for anything similar. Spread the word, would you?"
"You got it." Alec pulled her into a hug before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
"I like him," Jace said sleepily. "He has a nice face."
Smiling slightly, Clary climbed onto the bed beside him and kissed his forehead softly. "Get some rest, okay?"
A rumbling snore answered her. Clary checked his shoulder again; it was healed, pink scar tissue stretching across the wound. Wearily, she flopped onto her back, her hand going automatically to her stomach. Whatever she had said to Alec, she couldn't shake the memory of the demon that had stabbed Jace, and the way it had said mine...
A/N: Just a quick reminder—as I said in my author's note last chapter, I will be uploading Wednesdays and Saturdays for Part II. If you've enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! Thanks so much for reading.
~4L