"With the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

-William Shakespeare

The world was on fire. Flames licked

the glass towers of Idris, casting a dull glow on Clary Morgenstern's blood drenched body. The only color that wasn't drowned out by the metallic paste coating her was her green eyes, dull and uncaring. Four words floated through her mind, a silent chant:

Maim.

Kill.

Destroy.

Burn.

Maim,kill,destroy,burn

Maimkilldestroyburn

She looked at the sword in her hand, black ichor—or was it blood?—stained the blade. A green M was carved into the golden hilt, a stark contrast to the almost white of the adamas, the stuff used to make seraph blades, much like this one, and the mortal cup. Clary kept forward, broken glass crunched under her feet, barely audible under the roar of flames by her feet and all around her. Sebastian—or Jonathan, if you used his real name, though she preferred not to—jumped from one of the buildings, landing in a crouch in front of her. He straightened up, smiling. "Well, sis, I must say I'm proud." He gestured to the destruction surrounding them. "Such power in such a tiny body. Your like a candle, you know. All pale and skinny, but topped of with that flame of hair of yours on your head. I ask again: will you join me?"

"I—"

Black splattered against her vision. "Whoops, times up. I guess I'll just have to chose for you." He leaned close to her, towering over her, his black eyes lingering on her face. He leaned close to her ear and his breath stirred her hair as he whispered, "See you soon, little sister." He backed away, spread his arms wide, and Alicante exploded in a mass of flames and broken glass.

Her scream pierced her ears. Clary sat bolt upright, immediately regretting it, thanks to the stabbing—yeah, haha—pain in her abdomen. She gasped and clenched her jaw as ice treaded through her veins. "Clary. Clary, ANSWER ME!"

She let out another agonized sound of pain and arched her back up off the bed she had figured out she was laying in as the ice was replaced with flames, curling around her muscles, searing her skin and making her blood boil. "AH-HA!" She screamed, and then collapsed onto the bed, feeling numb and hollow. She could feel the sharp claws of something sinister clawing at her every nerve, forcing her to let them in. She thrashed, trying to break the talons' hold, but it was no use. She was trapped. And this time, she wasn't getting away.

Clary's eyes felt as if they were frozen together by a thin layer of ice. She finally, with great effort, pulled them open, blinking a few times against the harsh light. Where am I? She wondered, the words echoing inside her head like a symphony. She slowly sat up, stopping when she felt the hand anchoring her in place. Jace's face was creased with worry, even in his sleep, he wasn't entirely peaceful. His hair was in desperate need of a haircut, wisps of it falling into his eyes. It almost caused her physical pain to not reach out and hold him to her, letting his warmth assure her she was still here, still alive, something she feared would change every day. She reached forward, but screeched to a halt, remembering exactly why they were in here in the first place. She ran for the bathroom, slipping but not stopping. She braced her hands on the counter and took deep breaths. She could do this. She'd look just like herself. She swallowed the fear clawing its way up her throat and forced her eyes to the mirror. She suddenly couldn't breath. There was a slit in the middle of her shirt, right on her stomach. The hedges of it were stained a rust color. The color looked so out of place against the baby blue of the t-shirt. There were tear tracks on her face, and her hair was disheveled. But none of that mattered at all. Her eyes were dark, bottomless pits. They were the same eyes as Sebastian Morgenstern. She covered her mouth with her hand, a sob racking her body as she backed up, knocking the towels on the towel rack to a heap on the floor when her back slammed against the wall. She slid down it, trembling. Her but was numb thanks to the tiles under her butt. Not like she cared though. She drew her knees to her chest, burring her face in them and wrapping her arms tightly against her chest. She cried into her jeans, shoulder racking sobs that were surely enough to wake the dead. "Clary?" She couldn't help it. She crawled over to the toilet, leaned over it, and puked her guts out. hands held her hair back. Whenshe was done, she swatted them away, ducking away from the warm body leaning over her. "Clary." Jace said, the raw emotion in his voice enough for her to basically crabwalk out of the room, backing away fast. It wasn't long before her was the, towering over her. He brushed his finger tips across her arm, and she flinched. "Don't touch me." She whispered.

He drew his hand away.

"Clary, look at me—"

"No."

"Clary—"

She opened her eyes, leaning on her knees and staring him square in the eye.

"You really want me touching you?" She hissed.

Jace said nothing.

Nothing at all.

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "Thought so."

Jace pulled her to him, and they were both knocked to the wooden floor by the force of it. Her lips melded to his, moving in all the right places. t first the kiss was soft and sweet, but then it began to grow more urgent, both of them begging for more.

My eyes. They burn. Please, little sister can you tell Jace to keep it in his pants?

Clary screamed backing away from Jace.

"Get out!" She screamed. "Get out, get out, get out!"

She pressed her hands over her ears to block out his voice.

His laughter echoed in her head. He whispered Did you deliver my message? And then he was gone.