City of Wayward Sons

by ValykirieRevolution

Set in between 5x04 -5x08 and the beginning of City of Ashes. As Sam, Dean, and Castiel struggle to stop the end of days, Clary and the shadowhunters are at a loss to defeat Valentine. After a chance encounter in NYC team free will and the nephilim are forced to work together to save the world. Various pairings and warnings inside.

7. The confidant beast

Disclaimer: Don't own either series.

Warnings: Violence, language, hints of pre-slash and incest. Basically what's in a typical episode.

AN: A new arc has begun and it's got more action and interaction than the previous one.

Word count: 24,490

Chapter 7: The confidant beast:

"Excuse me?" Madeleine asked.

"Please." Clary replied. "I told you, I have to go to Idris."

"I take it, that your previous plans fell through?" Madeleine continued. "The Clave called a meeting that is mandatory for all shadowhunters and I know Maryse Lightwood has already left, which I confess is a surprise to me because I made plans to leave with her much earlier today. I'm sorry she left without you."

Clary started up at Madeleine in surprise before gritting her teeth and responding. The older woman was unfazed by these and instead looked at Clary with a pitying expression. She gave Clary a small shrug.

"I know that." Clary gritted out. "You made me a promise. Will you keep it?" she asked.

"What you are asking me is illegal." Madeleine held up her hand. "Not to mention too difficult for me to perform. Magnus has already closed the portal, as surely as the other warlock on the other side in Idris."

"Then why did you agree to help me? I know you are on my mother's side, if you weren't her friend I wouldn't trust you. I know you want to help her as much as I do, and I won't stop until she wakes up."

Madeleine stared hard at Clary, squaring her shoulders and squeezing Clary's arms. Her grip was firm and steady. It took her a moment before she closed her eyes and nodded.

"I assume you have some form of a plan, especially if the portal itself has already been closed."

Clary grinned and then remembered. "Wait." Clary said. "So the portal has to be open on two sides for it to work?"

"Yes."

Clary nodded to herself. "Ok then, that shouldn't be a problem."

Madeleine tilted her head in askance. "How so?"

Clary held out her stele. "I just need you to do two things. Can you contact the person on the other side to open a portal…or?"

Madeleine shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I know where he lives, so I suppose you just need to know the location?"

"I think so…could you describe how it looks?"

Madeleine smiled and began to describe the surroundings. Clary closed her eyes, letting her imagination weave into the landscape Madeleine was painting for her. Clary felt her arm raise, her stele trembling with power and she felt her stele puncture the air, making the shape of a door, a single word being chanted in her mind.

'Open.'

She opened her eyes and gasped. A shimmering doorway was floating inches from the hospital's linoleum floor. Its edges shimmered in gold, the only true color of the door, and it blurred like a heat wave. This was the only thing that truly gave it shape that marked it out for being a door because it wouldn't look like a door without it. It reminded Clary of when she colored in between the lines of her coloring books, except that this time she was most defiantly coloring outside of the lines. Inside of the doorway, was a swirl of wind and distorted colors, the odd shape flying by. Clary swallowed, glancing at the hospital door that was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She stared at it, suddenly seeing the room as a whole. She was in a hospital, with nurses and patients, and here there was a portal to another country in the room. Clary turned to Madeleine; the portal was just big enough for two.

"Ready?"

Madeleine nodded, her eyes hardened with resolve. She held out her hand and Clary took it, the older woman's grip was firm and her calluses hard. She had shadowhunter hands. Clary took a breath and stepped into the portal.

SPNTMI

It felt like a thousand hands had grabbed her, pulling her forward and sucking the air out of her lungs as though it stole the very oxygen from her body. Clary thought she heard Madeline gasp beside her, a sound that was torn away from her and blown behind them. Clary gritted her teeth and willed herself to breathe. She had to keep her eyes wide despite the nausea that was overwhelming her as colors and shapes blended together, rushing past her like the landscape seen from a speeding car. Clary's heart was tugging her forward, almost downward as the two were swirled about. Madeleine crashed into her, making a small hiss a pain. Madeleine's silvery hair whipped around Clary's face and tangling around Clary's neck and she shivered as she felt the older woman's lips brush her jaw; she was shouting, but Clary could barely make out the words. Clary shouted back, just sounds as she tried to keep her limbs from waving wildly from the force of the portal. She could barely breathe as the force exerted on her slammed into them and her eyes streamed with tears as she tried not to panic. Clary had no idea where they would end up despite the mental picture she had when drawing the portal; hopefully it could sense that kind of thing, but it seemed more in control than herself. Clary tightened her grip on Madeleine, afraid that if she moved even an inch, she would be ripped away from Madeleine and they would be flung in opposite directions.

Suddenly, the tunnel of form and light narrowed into a tube and she felt a pull downwards from her navel that yanked her forward with such force that her mouth open and she felt like her organs might spill out of her at any moment. The world suddenly spun together and she could no longer keep her eyes open and then just as suddenly then a feeling of suspension for a split second, jolting as though she had been yanked to a sudden stop by a taunt wire and hung in the air before plummeting downwards; Clary squinted and saw the earth rushing to meet her. She took a breath and screamed.

SPNTMI

Jace shifted in his seat, his tea cold and untouched. The Penhallow house was not quite bustling, but Jace knew his hosts were trying to keep good spirits; their guests had a family member who was going to be on trial for siding with Valentine, or with something to that effect. No one was really sure what happened, even though many shadowhunters were on the boat that day. Jace knew just how lucky they were that the Penhallow's, old family friends that had been their allies since before anyone could remember. Jace leaned back into the leather sofa and watched Isabelle and Aline Penhallow chat about fashion. Aline, unlike themselves had been raised in Idris, never having set foot out of the country. Despite this, she was wearing more mundane clothes and had a much more casual way of speaking. Aline and Isabelle were polar opposites, always had been, but the two got along so well that whenever they got to the chance to speak to one another, their conversations could go on for hours.

That didn't leave much room for Jace, but he didn't feel like talking much anyway. Jace studiously ignored Aline's cousin Sebastian Verlac, who seemed keen to start up a conversation with him but spoke little and laughed at Isabelle's jokes. Not for the first time that day, Jace wished that Alec was with him, despite the fact that his parabatai did not feel the same way.

SPNTMI

Clary gasped. Idris was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. She wished she had brought her sketchbook with her, but the only thing she had with her from her luggage was the green cloak that Luke had given her. When the portal had dumped her down on the ground and Madeleine had to pull her up. The two didn't speak as Clary stared. She could recall the pictures that Simon showed her of the trip him and his family went to Europe. The landscape had made her heart beat fast, but this was better than the pictures of Italian countryside. Clary looked back at Madeleine and grinned; she had done it, she was in Idris!

"I know this area, Ragnor lives close by." Madeleine said.

"Will he be home?" Clary asked.

"Hopefully. He rarely goes into Alicante, but he likes to stay busy."

Clary frowned. "Alicante is the capitol right?"

"Yes. It's really the only city that we have. It's guarded by the demon towers that surround the city. Which is why infiltrating the city is impossible."

"Demon towers?"

"Yes, they're made from a substance that is similar to our stele's. Even so, security around Alicante is tight and the wards surrounding them are guarded."

"You make it sound like I'll sneak in." At a look from Madeleine she continued. "Well, I'll try not to."

Madeleine smiled and they continued onwards. Clary was glad she was wearing flats; the ground was hard, but she kept staring at the scenery, nearly tripping a few times because she couldn't take her eyes off it. The sky was a shade of blue she had never seen before, in fact the entire sky seemed to be filled with a range of colors that Clary had never encountered and her heart thudded; she wished she had her sketchbook and come pencils, but she had the feeling she wouldn't be able to get it down properly. Looking at the landscape she could see why a shadowhunter would get homesick for Idris. It was beautiful. Clary could remember seeing the pictures Simon showed her of when his mother took their family to Italy, and Clary was envious when she flipped through the hi-def pictures of Italian countryside. This was so much better. The hills lush with gold and green, the purple mountains in the background, and the soft looking grass amid the firm ground. Her heart was stopping as she stumbled over the ground, trying to take in everything and not miss a moment. Her breath caught as the clouds partially obscured the sun, resulting in a shaft of sunlight shooting down to the ground. It was as though angels had pushed through the clouds to bring the affectionate light to touch the countryside, and the sun illuminated Madeleine's silver hair, making it look as though it was on fire.

Clary gasped in delight when it became obvious that they had reached their destination. There it was, a modest wooden cabin surrounded in rolling hills and emerald fields. The cabin itself looked to be made of sturdy wood, possibly oak or redwood. Either way, it was a deep color that had a natural gleam. It had a thick foundation that was raised by a few inches off the ground, with beams keeping it up. There was a small set of stairs of on the left leading to a porch at least five feet in length and nearly three feet in width, enough for a small bench that had a faded blue blanket draped over it and a small round winker table. A glass rested on the table, with what looked like a bottle of wine and a stack of cards (Clary had an inkling they were tarot). Overhead of the bench was a small window with a white frame around the screen. The door was on the opposite side, the left hand side. The door was ajar but the screen door behind it was closed. She could see a tall figure behind it and Madeleine did as well, quickening her pace so that Clary had to stride to catch up.

The roof was sturdy, as the cabin had at least two floors with two windows; it ran length-wise the same as the porch below it, so it looked as the one could climb out the windows and lounge on the roof. It was shingled lightly as it was expertly held tighter; the only thing that was made of stoned was the chimney, which was smoking slightly. The smoke dissipating in the midday air, and the front yard had no decorations save the fertile ground. Full bloomed flowers hugged the foundation, their colors soft, almost pastel against the swollen hills.

Clary fanned her face with her hand. She hoped its owner was home. It looked a well lived place and she quickly felt at ease. It gave an odd sense of nostalgia; not as if she had actually been there, but that could have and would have done so if given the chance to. Suddenly the sight of what should have been hers was too painful to look at. Instead she focused on the figure that was beginning to open the door and her body trembled when she sensed Madeleine stiffen beside her. The door to the cabin opened and the figure emerged. The figure was distinctly male. A square jaw robustly sculpted with a firm hand. He had a steady frame incasing full pilgrim lips and an aquiline nose, but his eyes were the most impressive feature. The color green of the sharpest tone, managing to be both stern and had a calm that belied a type of fierce, wise kind of pride that she had never seen before. It had to be Ragnor. He was tall, a smooth musculature that showed a power that spoke of maleness, but far more grace. Clary longed to sketch him; she wanted to capture the power that radiated off of him like a wave. However the overwhelming sense of strength wasn't pronounced because of a feeling of aggressiveness, but rather with the calm expression that gave the impression that he was someone whose voice was expected to be heard. Clary was never more surprised at what was obviously not glamour; Clary realized that he probably disliked doing that he wouldn't feel the need to do so in Idris. Clary didn't know if that was allowed, but why shouldn't it be?

Clary knew that warlocks all had something to them that gave away what they really were, but he stood out. His skin was green. A hue somewhere between evergreen and leaf, he had white hair that was as long and straight as a girl's and it was slicked back with a brusque efficiency. It reached just to his waist and was held in place by two large ram's horns on the each side of his head and just below his pointed ears.

Those eyes never left their sharpness as they looked at her, focusing their attention on her with the kind of astuteness that made Clary shiver, as if she was exposed to a harsh wind. However, they also regarded her with a mild disdain, but beneath it was something more enigmatic. Maybe he knew something that she didn't and his eyes showed a brief sympathy that had a shine of determination. Clary was filled with foreboding that didn't stop her from trembling. This only took a few minutes, because as soon as he swept his gaze off her, she gasped with relief. When his eyes met Madeleine's, they intensified almost impossibly.

Clary shuddered at the look; it was familiar, but the surprising feeling that was accompanied it was. She felt a heady rush of desire that made her ache in places that she didn't think was possible with anyone other than Jace. Clary blinked the haziness away from her. She had enough rudimentary skill at recognizing the sensation for what it was. Madeleine gasped loudly, almost obscenely. It snapped Clary back to her surroundings and she turned to look at the older woman. She had tears in her eyes, a strange smile tugging her lips-he, Ragnor let the door slam behind him as he strode forward with force gravity could not deny. In three strides, he went to Madeleine and in one fluid motion embraced her. To Clary it was as if time stopped just for them; they didn't pull away and when they finally did, Ragnor's tapered fingers curled inches from her hair; Madeleine shivered, her own fingers brushing the tips of his horns, as if she couldn't believe that she was actually touching them. Clary ached with tension just watching them, and felt unable to pull away as Madeleine kissed him.

Clary's vision zoomed in, fascinated as their lips pressed together, opening like blooming petals, suffused with color and smoothly in rhythm, spreading their tongues over and into each other's mouths. She caught a quick glimmer of moisture before quickly closing up, their lips moving furiously, but the real dance taking place behind the flesh; like watching a silhouette of two people making love. It ended too soon and both Ragnor and Madeleine stared at her. She realized in that whole time, she didn't avert her eyes once.

"Uh…Sorry." Clary stammered. 'So that's why she trusted Downworlders…'

"No, I should apologize. I got carried away."

Madeleine blushed, suddenly looking like a young girl; her small hands released their firm grip from Ragnor's horns. She stood back, straightened up and spread out her hands, moving them as she made the introductions.

"Clarissa, this is Ragnor Fell."

Ragnor nodded and began to speak. "Forgive my rudeness, but I know who you are, Clarissa Morgenstern daughter of Valentine and sister of-"

"Clary will do just fine."

Her voice sounded flat even to hers as Ragnor regarded her with unsurprised eyes and Clary felt briefly chastised before pushing it down. He nodded in response

"Come inside we have much to talk about."

SPNTMI

The inside of the cabin was lit by natural sunlight; the wooden beams of the ceiling lighting up a dark golden brown but what Clary took notice of the most was lower. The furniture was covered in books, ancient and thick, written in languages' she didn't understand. The number of candles was astonishing and quite a few were black, their wax cascading down their wick in dried clumps. Large copper bowls were stacked against each other on the counter, kitchen next to them and kept clean. There was a single table in this first room, the floor swept and it had a slight sheen to it that made Clary long to take off her shoes.

The room next over, was the living room. Clary could see the couch lined up next to a little nightstand cluttered with books piled next to a lamp. A coffee table across from both the couch and the fireplace which was smoldering on blackened logs. There was a picture hanging over the fireplace, the frame a dark red with no ornamental features save its somber aura. The picture itself was a landscape of dark mountains, lightening striking in the distance. It gave Clary a shiver; the longer she stared at it, the more she got sucked in. The mountain was familiar, at least in some place in her mind. Ragnor cleared his throat, making Clary turn back with a sheepish smile.

"Ah. Sorry." Clary extended her hand. "My name is-"

"Clarissa Morgenstern, daughter of Jocelyn and Valentine."

"Most people just call me Clary."

Ragnor continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I remember your mother." I have known her since birth."

"Is that why you helped her?"

"Yes. When she first came to me about suspicions about her husband, I wasn't surprised. Jocelyn begged for help, not for herself but for her children's sake. She often expressed her wish for an equal world for you…and us. "

Madeline grabbed Ragnor's hand. He briefly smiled before squeezing back. As if it wasn't already clear why these two entrusted her, the daughter of the woman who was so dear in to them…a woman who was becoming more of a stranger by the day and Clary cleared her throat again. She stared back at the couple sitting opposite her and tried to gather her thoughts. Both looked expectantly back and Clary clenched her fists.

"So, Madeleine told me that the cure for my mother is in the Book of White."

Ragnor nodded. "Against my better judgment she told me where she his it."

"Wait, what?"

Ragnor fixed her with a look. "I entrusted her with the book despite her being a nephilim. Her character seemed to transcend the typical arrogance of the rest of her kind. Her husband on the other hand went to opposite extremes. He had threatened my life and Madeleine's more than once."

Madeleine took over. "After Jonathan was born," Clary flinched at the mention, but the other woman continued, "She changed, or so Lucien had told me but this was later on. Apparently, Valentine had told everyone that he lost his parabatai, that when Lucien had been killed by a werewolf, but Lucien had come to me about his concern over Jocelyn, so clearly Valentine had been lying. I say this because the parabatai bond is so strong, so binding that if one died the other would certainly feel it. That Valentine lied was suspect to me, nephilim pride be damned."

Ragnor then spoke when it became clear that Madeleine would not.

"When Jocelyn came to me, she spoke of Valentine's entire secret, or rather, all those that she was aware of. He had a basement full of experiments, of tortured downworlders in cages, stacks of notes detailing the horrors of what he did to them. Of what he did to Jonathan, on this Jocelyn was wary, she only told me that Valentine turned him into a monster."

Clary couldn't stifle her gasp. "That isn't true, Jace isn't a monster!"

Madeleine frowned, but Ragnor merely shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I only recall what she said to me."

Clary flushed, looking down at her lap. She recalled the memories of her mother crying over the box of baby Jonathan's things, a lock of fair hair between her fingers. At the spasms of pain that flashed at the thought of her supposedly dead son.

'So why then? Why call him a monster, and then mourn him? That even Mom thought he was wrong, because he was Valentine's son? That doesn't make sense, so there must be something I'm missing…right? I hope so, if not then I must be the only one who knows that's not true; Jace isn't a monster-no matter what.'

When Clary looked up, she saw Ragnor stare at her. His expression was challenging, but still calm. Clary nodded.

"I'm sorry, please continue."

"As I said, she came to me after her son had been born, begging for help and told me she could not afford to make that mistake a second time; you're existence confirmed my suspicions that she was pregnant at the time." He paused.

'So why protect me and not him?'

Ragnor continued. "Jocelyn told me that Valentine would not stop until his plans were completed or with his death. She detailed the plans of the uprising to the two of us and Lucien. How much of what she said to him I don't know, but she expressed a desire to escape after they would defeat Valentine and his Circle. I made her the spell that would put her into a deep sleep that only the Book of White could cure. I gave it to her, but I suppose her told me of the location of where she hid the book as a sign of her trust in me. She insisted and I relented. Jocelyn told me that it was rightfully mine and that she was merely using it. In retrospect, I suppose that does make her a worthy friend. So I will help you."

Throat unexpectedly tight, she nodded. "Thank you."

Ragnor acted as if he hadn't noticed. "The Book of White resides in the Wayland manor, in their library, disguised as a cookbook. However, there are wards around the place, designed to protect against intruders. So it will not be a task-"

"That's fine."

"That you will not accomplish in your current state."

Clary started. "Current state?"

Ragnor looked unmoved. "You are not strong enough to do this yet. Granted you are talented enough, but you have much to learn. In fact, I do not believe you to be fully capable yet. Inside of you there is much turmoil, which you must overcome. I need you to be fully focused for you to come into your full power."

Ragnor looked merciless; Clary knew in that moment that nothing escaped this man that he was seeing into her and her life was an open book. His eyes bored into hers and they were so different from hers. They held a pain that made Clary feel young in comparison. Her indignation slowly dissipated and was replaced with determination.

"Then teach me. Please."

"Obviously."

Clary could have sworn she saw Ragnor roll his eyes. The would-be reaction made her think of Magnus. These two warlocks were as different as night and day, perfectly shown to her. Ragnor had a calm but stiff posture and stern features. He seemed how a warlock would act, or rather, how she thought one would act before should before she met one herself. A Gandalf-esque character of serious wisdom and a strong sense of justice and Clary shook herself. Ragnor wasn't a made up character and he certainly wouldn't enjoy be called one.

"Of course. I wouldn't send you into danger without some kind of training. However, being thrust into life is the best way to learn how to live, but I'm betting you've been dealt some blows."

"I guess so."

"Well then, come with me and show me what you can do."

SPNTMI

Jace strode to the window, his surroundings of no interest to him. Mayrse, Robert, nor Alec had come back. Max was reading one of his manga books, sharing it with Sebastian Verlac, who was Aline Penhallow's cousin. Jace repressed a sigh, feeling the frown tighten his skull and increase his impending headache. His eyes pushed past the Asian wall scrolls and the sleek sound system that pulsed out a piece of music that Jace knew to be Bach, but he didn't care that he couldn't remember anything past that. He watched Isabelle handling a knife with an impressed smile, the light of the blade reflecting in her face, making her eyes spark and reveal a richer shade of blue-black. It lit up her hair, making the strands shine. She handed the knife back to Aline by the knife's tip. Aline took it back with slim fingers. The Penhallow family emblem gleamed on the handle; the knife looked brand new, almost ceremonial but Jace knew better.

The sun was setting, its light filtering through the expansive windows with a burnished light that back lit the two girls, making them seem as if they were angels. Both were beautiful with their graceful necks and angled faces, and black hair. For a moment they could be sisters; the word brought the image of Clary to him. He could see her standing in their place, the sun setting behind her. She wasn't holding the knife though and her arms would be wide open. The sun lighting her hair like fire cascading down her soft skin and eyes brighter, happier than the sun, greener than he'd ever seen. Each time he saw her, he thought he'd get used to their color but then he'd see her again and be shocked by their vivid tone that left him struggling to breathe. His sister. Jace was filled with self-loathing and desire so intense that he broke his own illusion to see again Isabelle and Aline.

Aline blushed and it took Jace a moment to realize that he had been staring straight at her for who knew how long. He gritted his teeth and let his gaze bore into her. It was true, she was unconventionally pretty. Maybe it was the way she stood; like a willow tree swaying in the breeze, but her dark eyes were focused and their almond shaped retaining a keen intelligence. Her smiled was confident despite the deep blush on her delicately high planed face. She was slim figured and her skin soft. Aline pushed back a stream of hair and smiled at him. Jace smirked at the familiar response and forced his walk into an equally familiar swagger as he strode to the two girls. He kept his gaze to Aline and nodded to Isabelle.

"I need some fresh air and I hear your garden is in bloom. Care to show me?"

Aline's smile widened. "Of course, you must see the roses first."

Isabelle arched an eyebrow thinly, but then shrugged and she went into the kitchen without a word. Aline led him out the door, it was beautifully paned with a design of cherry blossoms, the pink in stark glow from the sun. Jace made sure to shut it gently behind him. He realized with a brief and sudden surprise that his hand was shaking, but the door hadn't made a sound. He followed her down the stone pathway. His boots starkly black against the fresh grass. Aline stopped by a large clump of rosebushes that grew opposite a small pond encased around high stones; small silver koi darted around each other, causing the water to ripple. Aline spun around, nearly bumping into Jace.

"Sorry." She said, but made no move to step back.

Instead, she let Jace came closer, to the point where he could wrap his arms around her if he wanted to. The artificial scent of her perfume seemed odd to him, but not oppressive. Jace felt his heart pound in an unhappy rhythm, but it gave him an adrenaline rush that he welcomed. With one hand he brought down to Aline's waist, cinching her with his fingers. Jace felt his own calluses against the thin fabric of Aline's dress. It felt like glue, to be sticking to her and unable to pull away and with his other hand he lifted it close to Aline, as if to brush back her hair from her face, but his hand slowly moved to the roses, plucking a ripe one from the bush. Jace brought it to his lips, the scent filling his nose. He pressed the rose to his face, letting his eyelids flutter as he let it overcome him and then just as quickly crushed the flower in his fist.

Aline blinked in surprise and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Jace closed it with his own. Her lips were softer than he imagined, but she tasted nothing like Clary. Jace pressed his lips closer, prying hers open and letting his tongue wander inside. His fingers clamped like a vice about her hip and shoulder, but made no move to close the gap he knew was there; his posture stiff even to him. Aline mewled and the sound made Jace move. Almost in frenzy, his hands unfroze from their places and tore at her blouse. A part of her cleavage peeked through, almost filling him with something close to anger. It took him a moment to realize that his eyes were open the entire time.

There was a sudden sound of someone clearly their throat. Aline gasped, sending a vibration through Jace's mouth, but before he could process his reaction, Aline broke away and hastily buttoned her shirt back up, flushing heavily. Jace turned to see who interrupted them. It was Alec. Jace felt the color drain from his face, heart pounding too quickly. Alec looked equally uncomfortable, eyes not quite looking at Jace. He clenched his fists together, forcing a smile to his face despite the sinking feeling in his stomach and he swallowed back the bile.

"Meeting over already?" Jace winced at how obvious the jovial tone was forced. "Ready to clap me in irons?" he asked.

Alec flinched and Jace immediately felt guilty. He stared at Alec; the need to tell the truth combined with the ache in his chest, so he stared at Alec and ignored everything else. Aline stared back and forth between to two of them with a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension.

"I-I'll just go."

She scurried inside, moving aside for Jace, who ignored the courtesy and made for Alec.

"Well, my parabatai is it time to go?"

SPNTMI

Clary panted heavily, sweat coming into her eyes and she rubbed at with a free hand. The hand that held her stele shook uncontrollably.

"Well you are improving."

Clary flushed from the praise, unable to speak as she grimly nodded. Ragnor did not give compliments easy.

"However, it's obvious how worn out you are and Madeline made lunch. Hurry and get changed."

Clary managed a smile. "Yes sir."

She wasn't too sure how much time had passed, but it had to have been at least a day? She hadn't bothered to count. Despite her rush, rescuing her mother might take a while.

"Madeleine has her own room upstairs, first door on the left."

"Thanks."

Ragnor merely nodded and walked back into the cabin. Clary took one last look at the back yard of flattened, decimated trees and smiled to herself. Yes, definitely improving. She hurried inside, passing through the kitchen and living room to take the stairs, the foot of which was wide and on the left hand side of the rear of the living room. The flight of stairs then turned slightly to get to the next level. The upstairs hallway was carpeted a dark red. At the end of the hall, was the bathroom but Clary hurried to the door closer to her on the left. Clary knocked quickly.

"Come in."

Clary opened the door and stepped inside. Madeleine's room was modestly furnished. The bed on the left hand side next to the sliding closet, it was large and situated downwards. It had an iron headboard in the design of water lilies and it had darkened with age. Across from the bed was the dresser made of oak, its mirror expansive above it. A chair next to it, seat cover plush; its cream color in stark contrast to the darker wooden frame that supported it and a door next to the chair was open and Clary could see that it was another closet. Curious, Clary walked inside. The top shelf held a few pairs of shoes, but more than that were books, boxes, and almost trinket like objects. That was interesting, but Clary's gaze traveled down to the clothes on the rungs. She was right not to bring pants along with her; dresses filled the space, the styles seemed old, like something out a period movie. The colors ranged from deep velvety hues to girlish pastels and somber neutrals. Clary pushed past the dresses to see the familiar shadowhunter gear. She always wondered what it felt like. Grabbing the fabric, she realized it was more flexible than she thought it would be, but it wasn't soft by any means. It was leather, pounded into the durable texture that she'd seen so many shadowhunters moved so gracefully in. She fingered one of the buckles, the cold metal sending shivers up her hands.

"See anything you like?"

Clary dropped her hand and spun around to face Madeleine.

"Sorry."

"No, it's ok. How about you just pick something from there and take a shower."

Clary shrugged. "Oh, just surprise me."

Madeleine smiled. "If you insist."

Clary took her shower and when she got back to Madeleine's room, clothes had already been laid out for her at the foot of the bed. Madeleine had sat down, brushing her hair. Clary was startled by just how pretty it was, thick silver hair untangling and gleaming by the brush. She set the brush down, letting her hair fall.

"You'll need help putting that on. Some of our clothes can be a bit old fashioned."

"I noticed." Clary smiled.

Clary took off her towel, folding it. She blushed as Madeleine took it from her, the older woman smiled reassuringly. She then held up an ivory colored slip, its sheer material made Clary glad she took a bath. She lifted up her arms and Madeleine slipped it over her. The slip came just above her knees. It made Clary think of all the old classic movies she watched with Luke and her mother. The slip had no straps, but it held up rather well with an elastic band coming just below her breasts. Next, Madeleine handed her a pair of white stockings and Clary marveled at the softness and she took her time unfolding them and pulling them up her legs. She allowed herself to shiver as the fabric glossed over her legs; they stayed firmly on her flesh. They stopped at the thighs, their lace trim bright and pure against peach colored skin and Clary swished her legs.

"Here, this can be a little bit more difficult."

Madeleine held up a dress and Clary gasped finally. It was a gorgeous thing made her think of going back in time, when women wore a kind of finery not from this century. However, this dress was simpler, which just enhanced its beauty. It was the color of ivory with a gold trim on the edges of the bodice and hem. The dress consisted of two parts, the bodice, which looked like a corset, was held up by thin straps and it was clearly meant to give the wearer curves. The bodice had an hourglass shape that was firmly in place and dipped into sharp points at the hips and front. The back had laces, the kind of semi-thick ribbon that could hold up fabric such as this one. The most distinguishing feature of said bodice was in the front. At the front of the bodice and the dip in the front was a rose. By Clary's guess it rested below the belly button, but just below the hips bones and bold against the sharp tapering line where the edge of where the bodice met the skirt. The flower itself was the only other color besides the ivory, as well as the only design on the body itself. The rose couldn't have been real, but Clary was mesmerized. It was so real looking, the petals thick and fresh, pinker than her lips, the color so vibrant but somehow more delicate than any shade of red. It was in full bloom and the detail of the depth of the flower somehow made her blush.

As for her skirt, it flared out at the hips before tapering down, still managing to look full by the folds of the fabric. Clary lifted the hem to reveal the petticoat beneath, the lacy trim on the skirt was patterned with vines and she pulled the dress back down, smooth in her hands. It had gold trim that snaked upwards in the outline of vines, green filling in the vines and trailing up in such a way that it wasn't obtrusive. It took the wearer by surprise as the vines came up mid-length and getting thinner the higher they went, one tendril coming to rest at the hip.

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you; it was a gift from Ragnor. There, hold still."

Clary nodded, letting her mind drift as Madeleine unlaced the dress and Clary stepped into it, gritting her teeth as Madeleine laced her up, each pull nearly stealing her breath. A few more tugs and Madeleine turned her by the shoulders and Clary looked at her in surprise; the dress was so tight that her chest felt uncomfortable, she saw her breasts heave quickly in an effort to breathe. Madeleine handed Clary a jacket wrap. It was obviously meant to be a match for the dress because it was the same color and design as the dress. Ivory colored with gold trim and green vines wrapped around the sleeves, which hugged her arms as she put it on, but got a bit looser at the wrist. The whole thing was see through and had two ties of fabric in the front that she tied together. It came just under her breasts and the wrap covered them for the most part, but Clary didn't think it improved her modesty too much. The wrap covered the lower half of her shoulders, the back of the wrap only covering the top half of her back, ending just below the shoulder blades. Clary made a grab for the boots next.

"You can use those for riding."

"Really?"

"Yes. I can teach you."

"Um…o-ok, yeah sure."

Clary's heart fluttered nervously as she laced up the boots. They were nice. Black leather with a slight heel, but not too high to be difficult to move in and ankle length, the groove in the arch of the heel enough fir perfect riding and the front of the shoe was easy to walk in. As soon as the laces were tied, she knew she'd love them. She let Madeleine direct her to the mirror and Clary laughed and tried not to blush. The dress gave her the illusion of curves, smooth and tight with the bodice pushing up her breasts, which she had to admit weren't very impressive (especially next to Isabelle), but with the bodice, she was probably falling out of said dress. This was novel; she wouldn't be wearing clothes like this when she got back home. She turned to Madeleine and was surprised to see the soft expression that she was wearing.

"You look so much like Jocelyn."

"Come on, Ragnor's waiting."

SPNTMI

The night kept the inside of the cave, calm as the three individuals speaking to one another. Unfiltered shadows of a witchlight stone bounced around the craggy edges of the cave's walls.

"Well well well, this is not an unwelcome surprise. So the devil's real after all. What brings you to our humble little country?"

"Well, I am an angel after all and Raziel meant only for the worthy to become Nephilim…"

"So you knew Raziel?"

"Yes-"

"Forgive my interruption but there is the manner at hand."

"Of course."

"Jonathan I want you to follow him as you would me." He looked at little apprehensive at this and beginning to open his mouth to question, but was silenced by an even look. "Our objectives haven't changed and we have gained a powerful ally. His help is proof enough that the angel is on our side. We will have our way Jonathan. Our plan is still the same."

"Yes, I figured as much." He stood up. "With that in mind, I'll take as my cue to leave.

He walked away, whistling jauntily in the dark, the sound echoing in some mocking tones as he got further and further away from them.

"I'm grateful that you have told me of your plan; I like it. Very original."

"Thank you. It was nothing."

Valentine shivered at the chill of his companion's voice despite his praise. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, hadn't wanted to impress anyone like this since Jocelyn. Here was an intelligent and daring being who shared his vision.

"In fact, I have a few suggestions as to improve it."

"Go on."

SPNTMI

"Do I have to explain this to you in a simpler way?" Ragnor asked.

"I think so."

"Alright, picture a tree."

Clary frowned in confusion and she shot a questioning glace at Madeleine, who was washing the dishes. The older woman only smiled and inclined her head to Ragnor. Clary turned back to the warlock, who arched an eyebrow.

"Ok, trees." She said.

"Yes. Picture a tree. This tree is magic and its branches are the various forms of magic, which can be very different from each other, but all from the same place because magic is energy and energy can never be destroyed, merely converted you understand?"

"Yes." 'So that's why the monsters that hunters deal with are real, why some magic can work for them. Bet only a few people know that.'

"Here is an example. That mark on your arm. Hold it out and let me see." Clary held out her arm, forearm revealing the scorched mark emblazoned on her flesh. Ragnor's fingers brushed and prodded at the mark, leaning down to stare at it. Clary watched Ragnor's eyes glaze over as he inspected the intricate scrawl that was branded on her. Her ears began to ring.

"I had a dream, my mother took a piece of wood and she drew this."

Clary winced. The buzzing in her ears was stronger the longer she stared at the mark.

"I think it means…serve."

Ragnor looked sharply at her before exchanging a look with Madeleine, who went into the next room and returned with a thick book. Madeleine handed it to Ragnor and his eyes glittered as he opened the book, flipping through thick pages. Clary shivered.

"I have read this book many times. It contains every rune that exists, and the one on your arm is most certainly not in this book."

Clary rubbed her arms and leaned over the table. Ragnor slid the book over to her. She grabbed it, feeling its glassy pages cool and firm beneath her fingers. The runes seemed to burn the pages much fiercer than they did her eyes; the more she stared at them, the blurrier her vision got as something began to flash to her eyes. It passed through her and strange enough that she suddenly felt like crying.

"Of course you can read them. I think you can do more than that. I think you can create ones never seen before."

Clary sucked in a breath. "Impossible. What makes you say that?"

"Madeleine told me about the ship being destroyed. I may not know all the details, but something tells me you had a hand in its destruction. Do not forget the mark on your arm, and because you are Jocelyn's daughter."

"Well then can you get me a sketch pad please? If I can really do what you say then I can finally help my mother."

Ragnor nodded as Clary flipped through the book, the one she remembered as being called the Grey Book. The runes brought up out the images of the words they represented like neon signs glaring at her, willing her to understand. Each one brought out a sense of when they meant, of what she was supposed to do. Clary nodded when a notebook was given to her, suppressing the sudden ache in her chest. She flipped open to a blank page, wondering what to put; there were already many runes designed for all sorts of purposes. Defense, healing, balance, fighting, protection, and more; why not something that could do those things, to be put to good use by any Shadowhunter in need of it.

'So what would a Shadowhunter really need?' she thought 'something for everyone, which they all need. So I guess it should be for something we all have, but what would that be?'

Clary let her mind wander as her pencil swirled aimlessly over the page. She ignored the twinge in her arm, but it gave her an idea. She focused her hand, keeping it steady as she felt her mind buzz in time with her arm. The pins and needles sensation seemed like a current that flowed from her body and onto the page. It honed onto her fingers, commanding her body and sharpening her mind to the image she was creating almost against her will it seemed. Clary's fingers pressed harder onto the pencil, causing bold lines to announce themselves on the page. Her whole chest ached and it took her a moment to realize it because she was speaking rapidly under her breath, a mantra that made her chest rattle.

"Fearless…fearless…fearless…fearless."

As long as it took to sketch, it stopped just as suddenly. Her pencil slapped the page and she flexed her hand. To Clary who had finally raised her voice, it sounded strange even to her.

"It is called fearless." She intoned.

Clary pushed the sketchbook to Ragnor. The warlock raised a thick eyebrow, but said nothing as he stared at the newfound rune in front of him.

"Course I don't know if it'll work." Clary said.

"I can verify it." Madeleine replied, pulling out her stele.

SPNTMI

"Has the consul reached a decision?"

"….It is difficult."

"He is Jonathan Morgenstern!"

"Exactly. He is the son of the greatest and the worst Shadowhunter that has ever been produced."

"What of it?"

"He seems to be following in her his father's footsteps. The destruction of the ship should be proof enough!"

"We cannot be sure of Jonathan's involvement in, so much that the late Inquisitor Herondale did not finish her report."

"I believe she had an accurate grasp of the situation. The Lightwood's behavior-"

"Is not pertinent to this investigation."

"Either way, a decision must be reached on Jonathan Morgenstern's actions."

"Take in consideration his truthfulness in regards to that matter."

"Irrelevant."

"Indeed. His actions ultimately shape his character."

"So how does this council rule?"

SPNTMI

"Thanks for doing this."

"No, it is my pleasure, when you told me that you didn't know how to ride, I'm more than happy to show you."

"Well good then then. I could use a break."

"I can tell. I'm glad that I can be of assistance."

"Well Ragnor was right. I've got a lot to learn. There is so much about Shadowhunters I don't know and some of those things I wish I didn't."

"Yes, the inequality between our races has not changed in all the time we have existed."

Clary's boots thudded on the hard packed earth as Madeleine led her to the stables, which the older woman explained that she shared with Ragnor since the two did not live far from each other. The afternoon sun felt good on her back, warming her in a way that the subject matter of their conversation did not. Time to change the subject.

"So then, how did you and Ragnor fall in love, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No I don't mind you asking." She smiled. "Well it wasn't easy. We met when we were young; it was your mother who introduced us. Jocelyn and I had gone riding when my horse went over a hole and I sprained my ankle. Ragnor was close by so he was the one who healed me. One look in his eyes and I was smitten. He looked so calm, so steady, that I felt safe whenever he was around me. At first I didn't know what I was feeling and I truly enjoyed his company, so smart. I realized we both prized the same qualities I couldn't help but admire him for them and I longed for him to see me as an equal. I suppose that was why I saw him for him, and he saw me for myself. We, or rather, he saw me in the way most people do when thy have known each other for years, as friends before lovers. So for us the words Shadowhunter and downworlder mean nothing, but it doesn't mean that everyone else sees it the same way."

Clary's heart was pounding; that the story set her on edge was surprising to her, but she could see herself in it, excited by Madeleine's voice filtering through her imagination as she let herself look back at golden eyes. Clary felt a pain so acute she rubbed her chest, trying to dispel the illusion.

They walked into the stable, the smell of hey and horses filling Clary up. It was a clean, almost comforting smell, mainly because it reminded her of Luke's farm upstate. He didn't have any horses, but the smell was close to that of the countryside, which Clary had always liked when she had her family around her. Madeleine led her to the stalls, three of which were occupied side by side on the left.

"Which one would you like?" Madeleine asked.

Clary, feeling shy, moved closer to the horses; they always made her nervous. Their teeth always looked the size of bricks, like they could take a chunk out of her leg if they wanted to; however, it was the one in the middle that got her attention. It was white with dappled grey hindquarters. Clary stared, awed at the power the muscles contained. She shivered, aware that she'd be astride them, that they could fling their rider off them.

"Her name is Guinevere. She is a Lipizzaner, sixteen hands."

"Sixteen hands?"

"How tall she is. Horses are measured by hands."

"Oh. She's gorgeous."

"I think so too." Madeleine spoke with obvious pride. "She's been with me for a long time now."

Clary reached a hand for Guinevere's nose. The horse snorted, flicking her ears back and forth. She seemed alert, curious at Clary's stillness and allowed her to put a hand to her nose.

"Palms up and flat. That way she can see better." Madeleine said.

"Oh."

Clary did as instructed and Guinevere nosed her palms, breathing deeply. Her nose was velvety soft against her skin and Clary giggled at the sensation, letting her other hand run up the length of the horses' snout and to the ears. She marveled at the smoothness of the coat. The brown deep-set eyes of Guinevere stared back at her and Clary was put at ease.

"Can you grab a saddle while I take her out?"

Madeleine pointed to the tack wall and the saddle that hung there. It was a rich brown color, the smell of leather overpowering. Clary grabbed it from its place and grunted in surprise. It was heavier that it looked. She turned back to Madeleine, who already had Guinevere out of her stall and standing, albeit stamping her gunmetal grey hooves. Madeleine already placed a green blanket over the mare's back. Clary wordlessly handed the saddle to Madeleine, who expertly saddled Guinevere, coming under the horse's belly to cinch the straps.

"Now hold her for a minute please."

"Ok."

Madeleine grabbed the halter and reins, gently slipping them onto Guinevere's head. Nickering, Guinevere nuzzled Madeleine's palm and the woman crooned in response. Madeleine nodded at Clary and she moved to the woman's side. Clary stroked the white mane, its wavy texture pleasant to her fingers.

"Good girl."

"Here"

Madeleine bent down and cupped her hands together; Clary had seen enough movies to know that meant she should put her foot there for her get a boost.

"Now when you take the reins, grab a bit of her mane, use your left hand."

"Ok."

Clary did as Madeleine directed and she was hoisted over, scrambling to get a good grip as he hands found the saddle's horn. For a moment Clary lay sprawled over the saddle, one leg bent and foot halfway in the stirrup and the other leg over the length of Guinevere. When she tried to slide her leg over, the mare fidgeted, making Clary freeze. He hands gripped the horn tight.

"Keep going. Try not to be nervous."

"I'm not." Clary said. "I just don't want to fall."

"You won't."

Clary eased her other leg over to the other side, struggling to get her foot in the stirrup. When she got it in, she sat up and took the reins.

SPNTMI

The sunlight fell, breaking through the clouds like spotlights from above, illuminating the beginnings of fall in the Idrisian countryside. The surrounding hills rolling in greens, yellows, and the subtle shades that would become deeper reds and gold's. The hills in the distance becoming more mountainous, trees covering what were rocks in forms that must have taken thousands of years to shape. The grass below was thick with life, still green against the bark, both pale and dark. Flowers in colors far more vivid than Clary thought possible, even ones that she knew were native to Idris, never to be found anywhere else. Their scent so sweet and deep that it made her head spin; she had to stop for them, to touch them and feel the silk of their skin against her own. She wanted to trace their outline in paper to keep forever. Clary would have marveled for hours if Madeleine hadn't prodded her along, but it was the sky, even the air itself that Clary was truly taken with. The color was so blue and so different from the sky she lived underneath her whole life. It was amazing, how something that had always been there could suddenly be seen with new eyes. That was something that had been happening to her lately, but for once it was amazing. To see the clouds cast a shadow over the ground before being swept past by the wind to lie over another portion of the hills. To see the two shades of shadow and sunlight move consistently from place to place over the mountains and high above, where the sun resided in the heavens, its beams scattered about the grand panoramic scene before her. Clary's breath was stolen by the breeze and it was too painful to regain, because the awe had frozen her in place, unwilling to let this go unseen and unrecorded in her sketchbook. Jealousy burst inside her; one day she would never see these sights again, that she would never enjoy what those not yet born would experience, but the feeling quickly passed at the idea that she was viewing what few did not. Clary couldn't even properly describe what she was seeing and the momentary despair that she, as an artist or human being, wouldn't be able to articulate the bigness of life that was doing what it did best: being.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Madeleine said.

It snapped Clary out of her thoughts, almost. "Y-yes." She gasped. "I've never seen a sky that blue. I can see why Shadowhunters fight to keep it."

"Yes and the demon towers of Alicante protect it."

"The demon towers?"

"Yes. Made from adamas, which is our in our weapons. The reason they work is because only demon's blood could deactivate them, but no demon will be able to get close to them without getting incinerated."

"I see."

"It's also what keeps downworlders or anyone really, from entering illegally."

Clary nodded as Guinevere's hooves stomped on the ground in agitation. A fierce wind suddenly picked up, chilling Clary and she put the hood to her cloak, glad that Madeleine told her to bring it. The two exchanged glances before Madeleine looked up. The sky had become leaden and intimidating.

"That was pretty fast." Clary said.

"I suppose I should have foreseen this. The weather can be unpredictable at times."

"No big thing."

"I'm sorry, but we need to get back before it gets worse." Madeleine said.

She had to fight her disappointment. Getting a feel for the landscape and finding the Wayland manor would just have to wait it seemed; from the slightly ominous look on Madeleine's face it would have been an argument she would lose if Clary tried to persuade her otherwise. Besides, Clary had a feeling that it might have something to do with her; if it wasn't already obvious enough that she didn't have much skill in horseback riding, it would be now. The ride had already taxed her muscles, she hadn't been this sore since she could remember. A poor rider and a potentially bad storm did not make for a good combination.

Madeleine turned in the opposite direction, her sorrel mare moving easily with her. The same couldn't be said of Clary, who flinched when Guinevere tossed her head with clear agitation. Grabbing the reins tight, Clary tried to twist Guinevere's head to the left, to turn more around but she merely jerked back in response. Snorting, Guinevere began to move back. Clary was momentarily taken off guard by being jolted in the saddle. Madeleine twisted in her seat and seeing Clary, began to move towards her.

"Use your heels."

The wind picked up, making any other words from Madeleine lost. Clary didn't want to make Guinevere more spooked than she already was, but she did as Madeleine instructed; Clary wanted to comfort her steed, but she knew she couldn't unclench her hands from the reins with the mare jostling more. Lightening rent the air and the sky was bright, then in quick succession, a razor like wind brought a sharp cracking that was closer than thunder. The smell of something burnt was faint on the air, but before she could react, the sound of something coming from above was hurling down but she couldn't get Guinevere to move in time. A tree branch crashed at their feet, nearly hitting the mare in the face.

Guinevere screamed a sound that made Clary shriek herself as her mount quickly reared back and almost unseated her. Madeleine kicked her horse's sides as Guinevere plunged down. Thunder boomed and the ground shook as the thunder's echo vibrated through Clary or maybe it was Guinevere's hooves as she broke away from Madeleine and bolted. Clary's shout was drowned out by the cry of the older woman. Clary turned her head to glimpse turn about to try and follow, but a jolt overcame Clary as the mare ran over uneven ground.

The rain came down hard, big drops pounding into her and blinding her. Another boom of thunder made her mare bellow in terror and the creature sped up, ignoring Clary, who lost her grip on the reins. The thin leather straps flapping in the wind, slapping the horse's neck and Clary's face; Guinevere galloped harder and Clary felt herself fly up a little and she screamed, slamming back onto the wet saddle. She gritted her teeth as he legs and ass rubbed and banged heavily against the saddle, she could feel the raw blisters already. She couldn't see past the curtain of rain, her surroundings blurring past her as all she could do was wrap her arms around Guinevere's strong neck and prey she wouldn't get flung off. Someone was shouting across the wind, but Clary felt she couldn't shout out words, but she had to try anyway.

"Help me!"

Surprisingly a voice answered back. "This way!"

Guinevere hit a rough patch of ground and Clary screamed. "I can't!"

Lightening flashed just as Clary opened her eyes. A figure had moved in their path, arms outstretched. As Guinevere kept her course, Clary shouted for the person to move.

"Look out!"

Guinevere's forelegs kicked the air and Clary waited to feel the impact that would come with one of those powerful legs hitting the person, but none came. What did come came as a surprise. A hand found the reins and tugged down hard. Surprised, Clary nearly fell off the saddle for a third time, but regained her balance and swayed in her shock, nerves shot. The mare jerked her head futilely as the hand that hand control over her began to sooth her. Guinevere was finally calm and still, and Clary was ready to get off this ride. Shakily she sat up; unclasping her arms and then tightly clasped the saddle's horn. She slid her right foot out of the stirrup and slowly raising her leg over the mare. Her whole body was shaking and the effort of moving and keeping balance was difficult on her frayed nerves and aching muscles. Clary swayed, bringing her right leg over to the other side just as she tried to take her left foot out of the stirrup and she stumbled, tangling her feet together. Clary didn't even have time to cry out as she began to fall. She braced for impact, but there was none. What she felt as she fell was warm and pliant. Clary dizzily realized that the person had caught her before she could hit the ground.

'Of course.' She thought, 'Shadowhunter reflexes.'

She glanced down and noticed the hands. Pianist slim, strong, and supple and the calluses familiar and comforting. Daring to hope, she spoke up.

"Jace?"

She felt a small rumble of laughter from the masculine chest.

"Sorry, but you've mistaken me for someone else I'm afraid, but I'm more than happy to introduce myself."

From the first sound he made she knew it wasn't him. A voice very different from Jace's. It was just as resonant, but more mellow. It was almost silky with sounding suspicious or making her shudder with disgust. A better way to put it was that it was rich and deep without intimidation. She could feel his voice in his chest and track its progress to his flat stomach. When he spoke, she trembled from the vibration. She was still disappointed, but wanted to see it the voice matched the face and looked up.

It did. He had a delicate face, that could have been feminine in almost anyone else, but it just gave his masculinity a grace that most of his peers did not have. Maybe it was the strength in in his jaw or the high cheekbones. His skin was smooth, with a paleness that reminded her of pearls. It suited him as he did not look sickly, but lively, which was apparent not only in the strong beats of his heart, but by the intelligence in his dark eyes. They were the darkest eyes she had ever seen, not even Simon or Isabelle had such eyes. He was staring unabashedly at her, almost as much as she was of him. She was being studied too and she flushed, but unable to look away. He smiled at her and she was suddenly aware of how pink and plush his lips were and her flush deepened at their smile and her budding curiosity. Clary focused on his hair. The way it fell, so tumbling, almost female in its sensuality. He reminded her of a manga character, a regular bishonen. No, he reminded her of a character she made herself. A prince with a dark past, which meant he could never love a person because his curse killed anyone who came to love him. She had drawn pages and hours' worth into making the perfect prince, but then she met Jace and the Lightwoods and her life turned upside down.

"We should get out of the rain." He said.

"A-ah right." Clary nodded.

He set her down and as soon as she did, she realized that no one could mistake him for female. He was tall and broad shouldered his muscles lithe and thick, easily revealed by his wet clothes.

"There is a barn not too far from here that is dry enough."

"Yeah ok."

The trek to the barn did not take long as he led both Clary and her horse. It was just minutes before she saw it, Clary was amazed that it still stood. It was old, the wood warped and even burned in some places. There was a small hole in the roof and Clary wouldn't be surprised if the thing would collapse at their feet, but he opened its door easily and shut it behind them just as easily. Bolting the doors shut, he turned to her. In the split second that he had done so, she felt a flash of nostalgia. It blindsided her as did his smile, as if he had been glad to meet her.

"Well, I've been rude to not introduce myself sooner. My name is Sebastian Verlac."

"People call me Clary. Clary Fr-"A sudden dash of inspiration hit. Fray wasn't a Shadowhunter name and he'd probably know if she was using a fake one as well. "Fairchild." She finished.

Sebastian, whose head had been tilted in askance, now straightened and his eyes lit up with both recognition and surprise.

'Oh crap.'

"Not the daughter of Jocelyn Fairchild? My family knew her when she was alive."

Hope fluttered in Clary's chest. Here was someone who might be able to tell her more of her mother's past.

"Really?"

"Yes. My aunt always spoke fondly of her; apparently they went to school together."

"Oh?"

"Yes. They spent much time together. In fact, the Fairchild manor is not far from their old barn, but I imagine you knew that."

"…No I didn't."

Sebastian gave her a curious look. "So you haven't been there?"

Clary sucked in a breath, surprised by the sudden sense of loss. She looked around, noticing their surroundings finally. The only chill came from the hole in the roof and she rubbed her arms. On each side of them were stalls, three to each side and only one of them on the right hand side was intact. Sebastian's horse was kept inside it. It was a beautiful creature, its coat just as dark and gleaming as Sebastian's hair. The beast was taller than Guinevere, its muscles thicker and more easily seen. Clary shuddered at the sight. If her own mount was difficult to ride, then she could only imagine what Sebastian's must be like. Clary saw Sebastian follow her gaze.

"His name is Emperor. Eighteen hands and of Arabian descent. Very difficult to train, but we've reached an understanding."

Sebastian went over and stroked his mount. Emperor stamped his big hooves. Shifting his weight, Clary could see the cause of the creature's masculinity. She flushed and looked away, rubbing her arms. Turning back to her, Sebastian's expression changed to concern.

"I'm sorry you're cold." He rummaged around in the saddle bag at his feet." Here, it's not much but it's clean. You can use it and let your clothes dry."

Clary looked back at him with wide eyes and Sebastian smiled.

"I won't look, I promise."

He was still smiling as he put a hand over his eyes. Clary shook her head, but took a blanket from him all the same. She ducked behind a stall, passing Guinevere, who was tied to the pole next to her. The stall was only half a stall and the rafter above it had scratch marks, but felt sturdy enough. The stall only covered half of her body, so she ducked down. The stall, while not as pristine as Ragnor's, was passably clean, still filled with sweet smelling hay.

Clary unlaced her boots, taking off her cloak, gently squeezing the moisture from it and hanging it from the rafter. Then she pulled the clingy wrap from her arms, its thin material dark and soaking with water. Pushing her hair out of the way, she felt for the clasps that bound her bodice to her. Clary pushed her chest forward, trying to get it undone faster. When she got it, she took a deep breath, and felt the dress slip down her, dragged by the weight of the wetness of her skirts. She tugged down her tights and rung them out. The cool air hit her body almost deliciously and goosebumps erupted all over her skin, she looked down to see two hardened points on the front of her slip. Down to her slip, she hung the rest of her clothes up on the rafters and stared down at the blanket in her hand. It didn't look like it would cover much, as she took off her slip, drying it as much as she could with the blanket before hanging it up and trying to dry herself. The blanket was scratchy, but she didn't care and she rubbed vigorously all over herself. It didn't take long and wrapping the towel around herself. She saw that it really didn't cover much. She felt too exposed. It came barely mid-thigh.

The storm's breeze made the blanket ride high as she tried to keep it covering her breasts, and Clary snatched the slip back from the rafters, and thankful that its sheer material meant that it dried quickly. She put it back on, and then dried her hair with the blanket, felling the beginnings of it curling in the temperature. Clary ducked out of the stall and saw Sebastian sitting down, his back to her. He smiled as she handed him back the blanket, turning to take it from her. He folded it carefully and put it next to his horses' stall before setting himself down onto the thick hay strewn about the ground. Clary sat down next to him, tugging her slip down as they sat in silence. It was a strange silence, comfortable but buzzing. The adrenaline was wearing off, her body too tired, so despite the situation, she lay down on her back. Sebastian shifted his weight in response, so that he was lying on his side, supporting his upper half by propping up his elbow and his hand resting in his hair. He was close in proximity, yet respectful. He looked at her with the kind of innocent curiosity that didn't keep her from flushing. She had yet to figure out who he reminded her of and it was something that seemed to be intrinsic in him. Was that why she was so nervous?

"So is this your first time in Idris?"

Clary jumped. "I-is it that obvious?"

Sebastian gave her another warm smile. "Was it not meant to be?" he asked.

"Kinda." Clary changed tack. "Is this a part of the Fairchild place?"

Sebastian frowned. "Yes. If I had known…well it's macabre, but unintentional I assure you."

Clary fidgeted. "You see I-" she stopped. "Wait, macabre? Why do you say that?"

Sebastian looked at her with such concern that Clary's foreboding was aroused. Sebastian used his free arm and let it hover over her midriff. It only brushed her body, but the contradictory sensations of dread and anticipation caused her heart to beat much too fast as she tried to sort out why she'd feel either. Sebastian's expression was egging her curiosity on.

"I guess you were raised in an institute like me." He mused, his expression sobered as he looked at her. "Yes this stable belonged to the Fairchild's' we are on their land, only a few miles from their manor. Or, what's left of it. The night of the Uprising, it was razed to the ground, its occupants still inside it and Jocelyn, was the sole survivor of this tragedy."

Clary swallowed hard, but Sebastian continued on.

"It has been said that it was the work of Valentine. Oh Clary, I am so sorry." He leaned closer, but Clary couldn't discern the expression, nor care to.

"Take me there."

"Excuse me?"

"Please take me to the Fairchild manor."

SPNTMI

"Has the council reached a decision?"

"Yes we have."

"Then send in Jonathan Morgenstern."

SPNTMI

"I'm a little surprised you don't know how to ride."

"Well my friend didn't really get to teach me, because me coming here was kinda last minute."

"Oh?"

"Y-yeah."

When the sunlight broke through the sky again, they were ready to leave. Clary's clothes had dried up better than she expected, but they were still damp. As they were saddling up, Sebastian interrupted her at getting back on a horse by asking her a question.

"Not to be crude, but have you ever had sex?"

Clary, who had one foot in the stirrup and was about to pull herself up Guinevere, wobbled in shock.

"E-excuse me, what?"

Sebastian at least had the decency to blush. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry, but some advice: to best gain balance when riding a horse, you have to move your hips as if you are making love. That way, you don't have to hurt your back, since you are supposed to keep your back straight when riding a horse. Although it could be useful in other instances and it's also supposed to maintain a rhythm with your horse, since you shouldn't put all your weight onto it. Don't forget to keep your knees bent either. In a way, riding a horse is a lot like make love. You have to work together to find a comfortable place. Ah, here, let me help you with that."

Sebastian put his hands on her thigh, brushing her hip bones and his hands seemed to tremble when they fingered the artificial flower at the edges of the bodice. Clary swallowed convulsively, but Sebastian's hands moved quickly away, though his eyes did not.

"Pretty." He said.

"I haven't." Clary replied. "Had sex I mean."

"I see." Was all Sebastian said.

It took them no time at all to get to the Fairchild manor. Clary could feel it before it before it came into sight. The burned remains were like the charred skeleton of some giant. They stood at what used to be the front door. Clary dismounted without a backward glance and walked inside the entryway.

"I'm home." She wanted to say.

The scorch marks reached parts of the ceiling, because the part of the ceiling remained. It was obvious that it used to be a big place, full of life.

'My grandparents, mother…how many siblings did she have? How many would I have…?' she thought.

Clary picked her way through her house, so much was burned beyond recognition, things piled high and crumbling. What used to be someone's belongings decaying before her eyes, all the flotsam and jetsam of a human life left to rot. Although some things were miraculously left untouched, such as a cabinet and a picture frame, but it was the foundation that did it however, that brought tears to her eyes. This was a home, it used to hold loved ones, who probably fought, cried, laughed, and slept in this house. People who had dreams and stories, things no one would ever get to hear about again. One day this manor would crumble into nothing as surely as her family had done before. No house should outlive its family and no girl should outlive her family.

"I could have lived in this house." Clary whispered.

She brought up a hand to steady herself. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could picture the life of the house itself, protecting her family within its walls.

"Clary?"

She slowly turned, expecting not for the first time, to see Jace and finding only Sebastian. He was looking back at her expectantly and he moved forward.

"I'm sorry." He said.

He sounded sorry, but Clary couldn't figure out why. "Why?" her voice cracked. Suddenly she wiped at her face and the wetness startling her. "Oh."

"If I had known that it would upset you, I wouldn't have brought you here."

"No, I'm glad you did. I-"

Sebastian moved closer.

"I just-" Clary started.

"Yes?"

Their faces were inches apart, Sebastian's eyes even darker than when she saw them last. That was what she looked at when he kissed her. His lips were firmer than she thought, applying pressure even in a chaste kiss. Clary shivered at the desire that was giving her chills. She wanted those pink lips to open, to go beyond the curtain. Sebastian did not pull away, so she leaned forward and feeling him do as she desired. It was as she imagined his tongue so deft that she gasped. She didn't think he'd actually do it and then the pace changed, hungrier and actually painful. She didn't care. Sebastian's hands did not stay fixed on her shoulders, they snaked upwards, past the vulnerable neck, and into the fields of her hair and he tugged hard, almost angrily. She gasped the pain of her hair and he tugged hard, rapid and frantic. She gasped, the pain, continuous but slight. Sebastian pushed her into part of a wall, which felt more like a column. The motion sent shockwaves through her, legs aching and trembling almost uncontrollably as Sebastian pushed himself against her. Shock went through her as she felt the rigidity of his body. Instinctively she knew what it was, but her thought process still needed to voice it, witness it on some level before proceeding. Clary looked down and seeing the obvious bulge that was halfway obscured by the insistent way that Sebastian was pressing into her. She blinked in shock. Sebastian was hard.

It was like it had unlocked something inside her, seeing what was confirmed inside him, waiting to be revealed. Almost against her will, she lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist and feeling his hipbones jutting out. Sebastian stopped tugging at her hair and let his hands squeeze her breasts. Clary loved the feeling, a newfound excitedness building in her. The position she was in was uncomfortable and distracting as she tried to free an arm to brace against the wall, but Sebastian tugged and the two went tumbling down unto the dirt.

Sebastian pulled himself on top of her, letting his weight rest on her, but Clary didn't mind. The pressure was maddening and of their own accord her hips bucked out of control. Clary could feel the bulge of his pants brush her groin, sending shooting pins into her stomach. She moved faster, pressing into his groin, chasing the elusive sensation that was starting to build. A hand of Sebastian's wandered down Clary's skirts, playing with their folds as he tickled the insides of her knees and he moved up to her thighs until he reached the frill of her panties, snaking underneath them.

"A-ah-ah-haaaaah, oooh…."

Dimly, as if from far away, she heard Sebastian fumble with his belt buckle, the metal unclasping from leather. Sebastian sat up and Clary gasped. She could feel all of him, the shift from lying down to sitting up, and the power of what was going to happen finally hitting but, she could see where Sebastian's hands were-they were tugging at the front of her bodice determinedly, almost savagely trying to rip the front, his knuckles digging into her breasts. She looked up at his face and gasped, almost recoiling in horror. When the sunlight hit his face, his eyes seemed to be entirely black, pitiless, and empty. It somehow made his familiar face appear sharper-as if his masculinity could cut her. It was garish, and it gave his face a sickly glow. The smile threw her, it was cold and leering. Its humor was genuine, and genuinely vicious. His smile had no warmth, but she could tell he was ginning through closed lips, and suddenly the lips opened, revealing teeth. The image of a monster emerging from a dark hidden place was so startling and true that she pulled back. He looked like he wanted to eat her, his smile growing so wide, it was just bared teeth. Sebastian was breathing quickly through his nose, loud as though a stereo had been unexpectedly turned on. He couldn't contain himself no more than the malicious thrusting that did not pause as hers did. Just like that, the idea of something thick and squirming was not appealing, and Clary realized how painful his thrusts were, despite being sheltered and bound by clothes. She winced and that seemed the cue Sebastian took to stop. He looked down at her and she almost flinched when their eyes met. Sebastian still looked eerie from the sunlight.

"Clary? What is it?"

"Stop."

Sebastian looked hurt.

"Please." Clary tried to sit up.

Sebastian moved his hands away from her bodice and gripped her wrists. His grip was like iron, as he was still and immovable. Clary tried to push herself up but he hadn't moved. His eyes burned, refusing to break eye contact, too blank to be malicious, but he was angry, very furious. Clary struggled harder, a budding panic inside her. She knew she had done something wrong, but couldn't place it-all she realized was that she had missed something vital that unexplained itself as it appeared like a trap. It was like getting splashed in the face with cold water, or getting slapped. Some illusion was dispelled and she drew back in fear.

'This can never happen again.' She thought.

"I thought-" Sebastian said.

"I'm sorry." Clary cut him off. "I'm sorry I can't-I just…can't. Please this is my home, my family-not here. Not anywhere. I'm sorry." Clary swallowed. "Can you let me up please? You're hurting me."

"What?" Sebastian blinked as if he had been woken up from a dream. "Oh yes of course." He looked at his hands, mildly horrified, as if they were strangers. "I'm so terribly sorry, are you alright?"

He pulled himself off her and helped her back to her feet. He shifted her clothing back into place with deft hands before doing so with himself. She averted her eyes as he buckled his pants back up, repressing a gasp at the sound of a zipper moving up. When he looked back at her with concern and puzzlement that she thought his monstrous expression was just a trick of the light, but she couldn't shake the feeling it gave her.

"I'm sorry I frightened you. What do you need me to do?"

'Go away.' She thought.

Another thought came to her unbidden.

"What I really need to do is go to the Wayland manor."

Sebastian's eyebrows rose to ridiculous height. "Wayland manor? What for, everyone who ever lived there is dead, unless that is what you came to see." Sebastian paused, and then continued. "Besides, even if we did go there, you'd need a Wayland to let you in. The wards that keep intruders out still work, so-"

"So I'll go into Alicante."

"To ask the clave?"

Clary jumped. "What? No, no I have a friend."

"Who is a Wayland?"

"Well kinda, he was adopted, but-"

"But…?" he prompted.

"He left without me and I don't know why."

"You don't know if he'll help, do you?" Sebastian said.

Clary shrugged, hoping it would hide how cutting the remark was. "Something like that."

Sebastian seemed to be trying to puzzle something out. "So if your friend who probably isn't a Wayland help, without going to the clave-" his eyes widened.

Clary bit the bullet. "Yes. I am not supposed to be here."

"You said coming here was last minute." He stated.

"Yes. I wouldn't be here if my mom wasn't in trouble."

"Jocelyn?"

"Yes. I wasn't lying about that. Jocelyn Fairchild is my mother, and-" she choked. "She's dying. I know it and I know there is a way to save her. That's why I'm here and that's why I have to go to Idris and see Jace-"

If Sebastian didn't look shocked before, he did now. "Jace." He said. "You mean Jonathan Morgenstern…"

Clary's blood turned to ice. "How did you…"

"My cousin and her family have been allies with the Lightwoods for years." Sebastian shook his head, "but Jace is standing trial in the Gard as we speak. There is no way that-"

"Standing trial?! Gard?! What's going on?" she cried, grabbing Sebastian's shoulders..

"Woah, Clary calm down." He gently pried her fingers loose. "Jace is standing trial because of his actions during the raid on Valentine's ship and the subsequent battle. Last that I had heard, it was hotly debated, and every active shadowhunter has been called to Idris because of Valentine. Did you know that?"

"No." Clary breathed.

"Yes." Sebastian continued. "Clary, most important fight of all is coming. It's coming here, so of course we are gathering to prepare."

"I see."

"So what would you have me do?" he asked again.

"We have to get to Jace, and we have to hurry."

SPNTMI

Alec's footsteps were heavy, almost sending him crashing to the ground. He walked over to Jace, his parabatai; although that wasn't quite correct, they were more than that, which is why Alec flinched when he looked down to see Jace's shackled hands.

'Again. This again.'

"So you heard?" Jace said.

"Of course. Jace I-"

Jace grimaced. "Save it. If you came here to say I told you so…"

Alec blanched and Jace must have seen it, for his expression softened, but Alec continued.

"I wouldn't wish this on anyone, I wish this didn't happen, and most of all I wish I trusted you, because I'll never stop hating myself for not trusting you."

Jace cut him off. "No it's good that you don't. I don't blame you. I know why you don't. I hurt you, which is all I seem to be able to do. No matter how hard I try, I just hurt the people I care about, when I'd rather hurt myself."

"Jace…"

"Really. I'm sorry for being such a lousy brother."

"You're not. Really, Jace you are-" Alec shook his head. "Impossible."

The ghost of an old, familiar grin crept up on Jace's face as if it took him by surprise. "I know."

To Alec, it was as though for a moment, nothing had happened and everything was normal. Longing rose so unexpectedly sharp that it brought tears to his eyes. So he bent down to the chains that connected Jace to his shackles, and pulled. They broke, clattering to the floor and when Alec looked up a Jace, the other boy was staring back at him in shock.

"Alec what did you do?"

"Hey, what are parabatai for?"

SPNTMI

"There is a way to sneak in, should be easier actually. Since nephilim from all around the world are coming. There are bound to be those who don't know their way around."

"Ok."

"Just keep your hood on."

Sebastian spoke those words the moment before they slipped past the high columns of adamas that glittered in the afternoon sun. Her ears popped from the pressure of walking in between than that, there was nothing to give them away, no blaring alarms or suspicious guards.

"We have to hurry. Where's this Gard?"

"Follow me."

Alicante was nothing like she'd seen. The narrow twisting streets were full of secret niches and entryways. Clary was reminded of movies about Italy, with the cobblestone streets and canals. On horseback, it was like stepping back in time to see shops that had wide windows and smooth wooden structures. She gaped at the clothes on display in one of the windows. There were certain dress that could only belong in a costume shop, movie set, or a museum. They went all the way down to present day dress, even from places that Clary had only ever heard of. She turned away to look at the rest of her surroundings.

There were lamp posts that were wreathed in witchlight stone; Clary noticed that many places were covered in the stuff. Runes were carved in doors and signs, and there were shops that sold sweets next to shops that sold daggers. It was so strange that it made her long for the familiar comforts of New York City. However she knew if she had the time, she gladly explore Alicante. She followed Sebastian, who was going through a narrow street. Clary's horse snorted, and remembering to stay calm for her, patted her neck. She tried to keep up as best as she could and was relieved when Sebastian veered down another street. Clary hurried to Sebastian as they went down a near deserted pathway lit by witchlight stones. Two figures were ahead of them and as Clary peered harder, she saw that one was Alec, which meant that the other had to be…

"Jace!"

Both Alec and the other jumped. When they turned, it most definitely Jace. His golden hair caught the light, giving him a halo, and Clary's heart leapt out of her chest. Jace was right there, standing and breathing, his mouth opening in shock but before he could speak, Alec shouted.

"Run!'

It took Clary a moment to realize he was speaking to Jace. With a nod, Jace bolted and Sebastian swerved out of the way. Jace shouted in alarm and anger as Sebastian swung forward, scooping him up and onto his horse. Alec, pulling out a seraph blade. Before he could name it, Clary stepped in front of him, tilting her head so the witchlight hit her face. Alec pulled up short, staring at her in shock.

"You."

Clary nodded. The two stared at one another, not speaking. It felt like ages, as though their silent sentences took so long to reach each other.

"Yes, you can trust me with him. He is in good hands."

"I know, but it he is still my brother. Be gentle."

"Of course."

Alec smiled, soft and bright, and he stepped aside. Clary nodded and kicked her heels, taking off after Sebastian and Jace. They didn't get too far. Jace was putting up a good struggle and Clary shook off the smidge of pride as Jace hit Sebastian, but she still had to stop them.

"Hey."

Both looked back at her and Clary pulled down her hood. She watched avidly as Jace's expression changed from irritation at Sebastian to staring at her in undisguised shock. Color drained from his face, horror morphing to anger and a cold self-deprecation by his grimace.

"Of course. Of course you came."

Clary pulled up to the boys. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid or so stubborn, but of course you didn't listen to me. What the hell are you doing here?" he rounded on Sebastian. "And you-stupid enough to go along with her."

"Apparently." Sebastian intoned. "From what I understand, Clary it looks like your doubts were right."

"Doubts?" Jace turned to Clary.

"That you didn't want me to come."

"Damn straight I didn't." Jace managed to sound breathless and snappy simultaneously. Blood drained out of his face and Clary felt faintly sick.

"Hey-" Sebastian protested.

Jace swiveled back to him. "And what the hell are you doing here with her?"

Before Sebastian could respond, Clary said. "Because he's helping me. You know, for my mother. I know she doesn't me much to you, but she means the world to me." Jace winced, but Clary continued. "If you don't want me around, fine. I just need your help with one thing. One thing then I'm gone." Not hearing a response for Jace, she continued. "I need to get inside the Wayland manor-for Ragnor, he says what's in there can save my mother."

"That's ridiculous." Jace snapped.

"It's the truth." Clary said. "I need you."

Jace swallowed hard, and then to Sebastian he said, "Alright, stud I can take it from here."

"But-"

"Thank you." Clary said. "Both you, but Sebastian its ok, we'll go on ahead."

For a split second, Clary could have sworn she saw the monstrous expression she saw at the ruins of her would be home, but it passed too quickly to be sure.

"Look Sebastian, if you really want to help, go find Alec, help him out." Jace said.

Sebastian looked to Clary, as if asking for permission and she saw Jace make a face.

"Yes. That would be nice."

"Ok then. Be careful Clary."

"You too."

Sebastian dismounted. "Here. Take Emperor with you. Good luck."

With that, he turned back the way he came, walking back to Alec, and Clary turned to Jace.

"Ready to go?"

Jace huffed. He adjusted himself so that he could ride properly and Sebastian's advice about horseback riding popped into her head and she blushed. Jace caught her staring.

"What?" he asked.

Clary shook her head. "Nothing."

SPNTMI

The two figures were still across from one another, the light from the hole in the ceiling of the cave lighting them up perfectly. Valentine looked upwards. As if he could see the inner workings of the heavens if he squinted hard enough. The one across from him, much different from him, in his flannel shirt and worn jeans was Lucifer. It was quiet between the two, but it was apparent they were both thinking. Valentine's face impassive, Lucifer's amused.

"I've decided." Valentine said. "Are there any formal words? Incantations? "

Lucifer chuckled. "Nope. Just one little word."

"I see." Valentine nodded. "Alright then, after all, you present an impressive argument. I find no fault in it, and you say that I will still have my senses? I'll be aware as it were?"

"Of course. This will not affect your plans in any way, rather it will make them easier to carry out."

"I see. Yes, I consent. I say yes."

Lucifer smiled slow as sap. "You've done the right thing."

Lucifer came towards Valentine with his fingers steepled together like a benevolent priest, and then reached out, putting a hand on Valentine's shoulder and another on his head. It was almost like a caress and Valentine took a deep breath relaxed but energized. Almost proud. Lucifer kept his eyes open and for a moment they began to shine, as if backlit by a spotlight. Valentine tried to stare back at them for as long as he dared before closing his eyes. The light became intense, filling the cave and freezing the air. An intense buzzing started up and began to rise. It ended as quickly as it came and the light that could be seen for miles dissipated. Valentine's eyes fluttered open just in time to see Lucifer's old body fall to the floor with a thud. Valentine or rather, Lucifer looked at his new body with satisfaction and he exhaled, laughing to himself.

"Plans huh? Well then, let's get this party started."

SPNTMI

The ride to the Wayland manor was difficult, but not because of the terrain.

"So who taught you to ride?" Jace asked.

Clary banished the sudden flash of Sebastian from her mind. "Madeleine."

"Madeleine Bellefleur?"

"Yes, why is that so hard to believe?" So Clary ended up telling Jace all of what Ragnor had told her, what had happened, leaving out only what had taken place between her and Sebastian at the Fairchild manor.

"So this book…I think I've seen it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's in a cookbook." Jace suddenly laughed. "Imagine one of the most powerful books of all time, hidden in a book for housewives. Jocelyn had guts." He whistled.

"Has."

"What?"

"Has guts."

"Right."

It didn't take long after that to see the Wayland manor. It had a sense of something that had gotten left behind, of coldness. Jace dismounted, helping Clary off her horse. She stared at Jace, watching him stare at the manor, his posture stiff. Somehow seeing him against the expanse of the dark sky and the sweeping fields of grass, he appeared formidable. Clary reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. Jace didn't look at her, but seemed to relax for a moment before walking inside. Clary followed suit.

The inside was colder then she anticipated, but it was more than just chilly air. It was the feeling of neglect, a sterile despair that no amount of sunshine could banish. However, Clary felt the pull of this place. She was only halfway listening to Jace. There was something here…

"Hey. We're at the library."

Even the library had a disused feel to it, coated in dust, in the cold. The shelves reached all the way to the painted ceiling of angry angels. There were the rolling ladders that were fixed to the shelves. There was a single writing desk, its color obscured by the dust. Behind it a large window had a ledge for a reader to perch on, old tattered pillows still lying on the bench, their designs forever faded. As was the carpet they stood on. It had the familiar motif of the angel rising out of the lake, carrying a cup and a sword. At the sight, Clary felt a tugging that started from her feet and travelled up her body, making her dizzy.

"Oh nice."

Jace stared at her with sharp eyes, but as she examined a book, what he said next took her by surprise.

"Question. Were you that desperate for help that you accepted it from Sebastian?"

"What, you jealous?" she snapped.

"No." he shot back.

"What's so bad about Sebastian anyway?"

"He's creepy."

"No arguments there." Clary shuddered, the reaction genuine enough to satisfy Jace.

"I remember coming in here. I had to read at least ten books a month and when I was finished, they had to be put back where I found them, or…well he wouldn't be happy."

Clary pictured it, a somber boy alone in a cold room, unable to go outside. A boy whose only companion had been a bird, who never been left with bruises on the face, and got his true name at the age of ten. This was the result. A tall boy…man with a seriousness that came from more than just being a shadowhunter. Someone who hid a great part of themselves, the part that made them so great in the first place. Hardly anyone could see it, but then, Clary wanted to see every part of Jace. Each new layer sounding like an exciting adventure, but would she be able to?

There was sadness behind his eyes, trying to hide it. He shouldn't from her, so to banish it, she pulled a book from the shelf, letting it drop to the floor. Jace looked up in surprise, eyes going to and from the book to Clary.

"Clary…
"What?" Clary pulled down another book. "He's not here now is he?"

"Hm."

Jace pulled a book from the shelf. Its title in gold embossed letters. 'The 17th century methods of exorcism in Eastern Europe.'. He held it for a moment, eyes unreadable before he shrugged and tossed the book over his shoulder.

"That's it." Clary laughed.

Jace began to hurl books off the shelves left and right, laughing mad, almost desperate as his cries began to sound less and less like laughter. When one book flew wildly, nearly hitting her in the face, she jumped. Clary suppressed a whimper at the sight of Jace frantically digging out the books, not caring if he hit himself in the process. Books littered his feet like corpses, their fluttering pages drowned out the fast paced breathing of Jace. Clary went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He started violently, but she didn't remove her hand and Jace's breathing slowed. His golden eyes glimmered, the budding starlight behind him lighting him up like an angel. For a split second he looked as if he would burst into tears.

"Clary…"

"What happened?"

"I…"

Jace turned away, averting his gaze as if burned. Clary waited for him to speak, but then his expression changed, full of recognition.

"Got it."

Jace pulled a book out from the far back of the shelf. Its title in a simple, bold lettering: '100 simple recipes for housewives.'

"Gotcha!"

Jace grinned at her, waving the book triumphantly. Clary scooted closer to him as he opened it. To Clary the ground was shaking, almost screeching. She winced. Looking back at Jace, seeing her expression mirrored on his face, and she realized she wasn't imagining the shaking.

"Jace?"

"Stay calm."

The thick sound of scraping stone over stone was overpowering, but to Clary there was something speaking. Clary's eyes fluttered. If she thought Sebastian was familiar, this feeling was stronger, genuine. She knew her heart ached to respond to it. The stone wall slid back to reveal a staircase that wound down, but to where Clary couldn't see.

"Huh."

Clary turned back to Jace, who shrugged.

"This place is full of surprises. I haven't seen this one though."

"We should go down there."

"Want to check it out?"

They said it in unison. Clary giggled a bit and Jace just raised an eyebrow. It was an expression that looked so much like his old self that she was cheered immediately. Slapping the cookbook with one hand, Jace led the way down the stairs. As they got closer to the darkness, Clary gripped the edge of Jace's sleeve and he pulled out a witchstone and lighted it. It sprung to life in his palm, sending scattering beams onto ancient stones as they descended in a spiral. Clary was reminded of watching movies where characters had to walk down the dungeons staircase. She shuddered.

"Cold?"

"A little."

He wordlessly handed her his jacket, which she put on with a murmur of thanks. Clary watched where she stepped; the stairs were slippery with moss and she could feel their chill in her boots, which had trouble gripping the uneven stones beneath her. However a stench was becoming more apparent the farther they went down. Clary put a hand to her nose and mouth. She watched Jace, who had not reacted to the smell; his shadowhunter senses were up. They finally reached the bottom; the dark of the room was unsettling. It was as if she had spoken aloud as Jace squeezed the stone harder, giving more light the room.

Now Clary knew why the place smelled, but it didn't prepare her for what she was seeing. It really was a dungeon. There were cages everywhere, stacked high on the right hand side, filled with half rotted corpses of downworlders. Fairies struck through with iron, their faces burned beyond recognition. Vampires with their fangs pulled out, blood still crusting at the gums. A knurled warlock with horns that had been ground down to stumps. Clary thought of Ragnor and fought the urge to be sick. Jace moved closer to the cages, his fingers brushing the tags that were attached to the cages.

"Look- Valentine kept notes on what he did to them." He growled, disgust making him spit out the words. "Trying to figure out what made them tick. What he could do with their body parts."

Clary shuddered, unable to look at the cages anymore. Her temples, her arm suddenly burning. She went over to the workbench. There were tools, probably what Valentine used to torture the downworlders in the cages. There were vials filled with liquid, some powder, and others were body parts in larger jars. Each one was labeled in Valentine's elegant script. They said things such as: 'Vampire teeth. Mature female.', 'Warlock's blood, healthy.', and 'Silver powder.' She couldn't touch them, so she moved on to the stacks of notebooks. Knowing Valentine, this was probably very organized at some point, but that it had been in disarray long since then. She had the feeling that he hadn't been bothered to come down here in years. One notebook caught her eye.

'Thoughts on my son Jonathan.'

She opened it, flipping to a random page and began to read.

'Jonathan's skills are growing and I look forward to the progress I know he will continue to make. There is one thing that disturbs me. The gift I gave him has become too attached to him. Jonathan must learn the lesson of domination; I hope that it will not be a lesson that needs to be repeated.'

Clary swallowed down the disgust, closing the book, not wanting to know more.

"I remember that book."

Clary jumped. Jace had come up behind her, and he looking at the book with a sad smile.

"I found it in the library once. He was pretty upset when he saw me reading it. I never made the mistake of reading something without his permission all the same."

Clary winced. "Monster."

Jace shrugged and took the book from her, flipped it open and began to read. Clary watched him smile; it wasn't a happy one but one of remembrance, of refusing to be bitter.

'Is this what it feels like to be proud of someone?' she thought, 'Is that what this feeling is?'

Clary shook herself, reaching for another book and again it had a title that made her forget to breathe. The notebook's only lettering on the cover was all it said.

'Jocelyn Morgenstern.'

Clary snatched it up and began to read.

'August 19th. Have the proper ingredients for the ritual. Must work quickly, as Jocelyn is already pregnant.'

'August 24th. Summoned her, a demon calling herself Lilith. I was successful in obtaining her blood. I was even given instructions on how to best utilize it.'

'September 1st. administered the potion to Jocelyn. No ill effects apparent. She is healthy, as is our child. Have to think up a name for him. For I know I have a son.'

'September 10th. Experiments with the downworlders. Tried to administer demon blood to them. It seems that even with their stained ancestry, the blood is toxic to them. Yet, we can tolerate it with no ill effects. Is it because of our nephilim blood? Will increase the dosage in Jocelyn for sure.'

"Jace."

At the sound of her voice, he turned and seeing her expression, frowned.

"What is it?"

"Read this."

Jace sat down the notebook he was looking at and began to read over her shoulder. His breath hitched and Clary could feel him stiffen, but she couldn't respond to him, hypnotized by the words in Valentine's journal. Together they began to read on.

'September 25th. Still no ill effects seen in Jocelyn. However, she tells me she is having vivid nightmares. Nothing to be concerned about, but I'll send for a physician. This is the most important work I've ever done. Post Script, stock up on more silver powder.'

'November 15th. Lucien Greymark is no longer my parabatai. He has become tainted and I should have killed him, but Angel forgive me, I did not have the strength to. Told Jocelyn about his 'death'. She became hysterical, then refused to eat. Perhaps a new method is needed.'

'November 30th. Experiments failing. I have been studying one method, but do I have the means? Creating the most powerful shadowhunter is my life's work. I mustn't fail. Post Script. Hodge Starkweather has told me that Celine Herondale is expecting a child.'

Feeling sick, Clary skipped down to October.

'October 15th. I have found it. The ritual necessary to bind an angel. It will take time, but I have the method.'

'October 17th. I have done it! The Angel is bound to this house. I must thank Wayland for his sacrifices in the name of Goodness, as well as this deception. To those fools in the Clave, I have succeeded in gaining the Angel's blood-'

Clary and Jace looked back up at each other in shock, his face looking as pale as Clary imagined hers to be. She then pressed on.

'-it is a beautiful color. Not red, but gold. A theory would be that because it does not have a true corporeal body, yet I can look upon the Angel and feel no pain. I must be chosen. Tested the blood on myself. First ingested then injected. Experienced an overwhelming euphoria and my physical strength was greatly enhanced. Now that I have a large supply, more tests can be run.'

Clary frowned, skimming through the entries until she hit December.

'December 24th. Tried to converse with the Angel, Ithuriel. Stubborn creature. It does not want to see reason, yet it cannot leave the circle it is bound in. Strangely seems to be growing weaker. Experimented with the blood to be sure. Speaking of experiments, gave the new mixture to Celine Herondale. She appears to be healthy. Both she and Jocelyn are nearing their time. The age of the new shadowhunters is coming soon.'

Clary skimmed again, down until one entry caught her eye.

'May 3rd. It's a boy. He will be called Jonathan, after the first shadowhunter, and he'll be the inspiration for generations to come.'

'May 15th. Jocelyn is experiencing depression. She claims that something is wrong with Jonathan. She refuses to nurse him. Administered angel blood to her, hidden in drink. Perhaps more experimentation is needed. I must get Jocelyn pregnant again. Will try tonight.'

'May 30th. Our uprising draws near. Must prepare, probable last night here.'

But there were more entries beneath this date.

'Hodge has informed me: Celine Herondale has taken her life. Immediate steps taken to salvage experimentation. Everything must be moved-

Clary made to snap the book shut but Jace stopped her.

"Look at the dates." He whispered. "How is that possible?"

"He lied about a lot of things, hell, that's not the worst that he's done. It's obvious we were experiments to him. He even did it to other people's children!"

"Ok." Jace swallowed.

For a moment, she thought he would break down, but when he spoke next, she was filled with horror.

"Wait, these parts about the angel-where is it? The angel I mean?"

"I don't-wait what?"

Clary's breath came out in sharp gasps. She turned her head to the space that she neglected to see, so distracted by everything else that she paid no attention to the floor. Now she did. It was littered with bones, their fading colors contrasting sharply to what was on the floor. A large circle was drawn, one she had just seen, drawn in Valentine's journal. Its symbols more powerful and vivid then runes, but somehow much more familiar. The circle wasn't a pentagram, the design much older, the lines bold and thick. Colored red, probably blood-it was still bright, despite its age. It was crusted thick, almost crystallized. Its power so overwhelming that she couldn't step away, but strangely enough, she didn't want to. It was drawing her closer. Clary reached for the fabric that rested in a lump in the middle of the circle, her fingers stretching for it before she doubled over.

"Clary!"

Jace was at her side and pulling back the cloth with a vicious motion. He dropped it, the witchlight stone clattering to the ground and scattering the light. Clary's chest heaved, body spasming in pain. She couldn't see Jace, but she heard him dry heave on the ground. Clary picked up the witchlight stone, staring as it revealed Jace, who was gaunt and sharp, all the angles in his face cutting into his skin. He was pale, almost whitewashed in grief and horror. His eyes were too wide, the gold in them making him look like a wounded animal. He panted lips slick with spittle and sick. He seemed feverish and he wiped his mouth and stood up. Clary moved the light to stare at what they feared was still in the circle.

It was an angel.

She knew it. It looked nothing like Castiel, who was definitely flesh, in the world, inhabiting a human body. This one's otherworldliness showed through. She wasn't sure how she could see it without a human body for it to inhabit. That she could see it, see it for what it was without experiencing pain wasn't what overwhelmed her. It was the state of the being.

It was bound, as surely as and more securely than any man made chains could hold it. It could barely lift its head, let alone move. It was in excruciating pain, and it was obvious, and not from expression alone because she felt like she was hurting too. There were scars running all over the length of its body, the thickest ones at the base of its wings, which were mangled almost beyond recognition, the feathers stained with blood. Its eyes were gouged out, pits that dug into the face, gore still splattered and rusting over. Clary choked back a sob, unable to look at the angel any longer. She stared back down at the binding circle. The complexity of what she was seeing made her head swim. The gist of it was to trap the angel and weaken it to the point that it would not be able to leave or live. The only thing she could make out clearly was the name.

"Ithuriel."

Ithuriel opened its mouth and the sound was nothing that Clary had ever heard before. It was beautiful and terrible. Clary trembled, overwhelmed by the way the voice made her shake. She clutched her ears, but it didn't stop the eerie sonic song from penetrating and she collapsed to the ground, the only thing separating her from Ithuriel was the circle. The spasms agonized her body and Jace was shouting, but she could barely hear her name before being swallowed up in sensation. It was as though a huge hand was pushing something inside her skull, electrocuting her with its power that was trying to reach her. Clary cried out in longing. As quick as it came, the pain faded, the screech moving to a dull whine, but there was more to it, whispers behind it. She concentrated hard, hearing the whispers pull themselves to her; it felt like longing, as much as she did.

"Can you hear my voice?"

It was close to her, almost as though it was her own thoughts.

"Yes, but not quite."

Clary spoke aloud. "Are we able to speak this way?"

"Yes. However, it is tiring. All is tiring."

"Clary?"

She jumped, forgetting that Jace was there. He was staring at her in shock.

"Y-you're talking with him?"

"Yes, but he's tired."

"I must show you both this. So that history doesn't repeat itself."

Clary squeezed Jace's hand and nodded. Ithuriel once again began to sing, but instead of pain, pictures formed as if being painted directly in her mind, as crisp as a scene from a movie. She was there, as if it were her own experience. Clary found herself staring at a younger version of her mother. She was beautiful and staring up at a young man with silver hair, his look of adoration matching hers. They held each other tight, the only thing coming in between her mother and Valentine was the swell of her mother's belly.

Clary was standing in a field surrounded by forest. The moon was hung in the sky, illuminating the ground. The grass was charred; a complex pentagram had been burned into the ground and at the foot of the top of the point stood a younger Valentine. His confidant stance belied the cool, terrible strength he possessed. He paid no attention to her; he was busy staring at what he caught in the center of the pentagram. A monstrous she-creature with pit less eyes that framed an otherwise human face, save for the mouth. A gaping maw with rotted projectiles. Her back was hunched, the knobs of the spine visible, back so pale and bruised that the flesh was purple with rot. Somehow she retained a sense of beauty. Not because of what she was physically but because she seemed to shift. Monstrous and sensuous all at once. Tentacle like appendages shimmered inside the circle, glimmering with some kind of secretion. She straightened her back with a snap, showing her translucent skin and tool long fingers, cracking them as she waggled them at Valentine. He allowed himself a small smile.

"What are you called?"

"You do not know?" she taunted. "We have no true names, so we take them after His creations, since He had not seen fit to consider us equals, as he had no hand in our making. Well, why have you summoned me, shadowhunter?"

Her voice grated on Clary; the pinchers in the whole of her mouth rubbed together wetly.

"I have come for something of yours. Blood."

"Blood?"

"Yes, I will create the greatest shadowhunter ever produced."

The creature laughed high and cold. "Everyone believes their species to be the greatest. Yet, you have come to the right species so to speak. We were here first. Before He made mankind and His angels, and even those murderous, devouring creatures before the angels."

Valentine started.

"So you want my blood do you? For yourself?"

"No. My son. He will be my Adam-"

"What will become of us? I would like compensation for this."

"Of course, what would you like?"

"To be free to roam the Earth, do that for me."

"First your blood."

"…Fair enough."

Valentine tossed her a dagger; it hit the grass with a soft thud, landing at the slim feet of the creature. As she bent down, Valentine tossed her a cup. With a hiss she picked it up as well before straightening. She ran the length of the blade across her arm, dragging it hard and letting the blood spill out of her. It was either a dark red or black as it splashed into the cup.

"Word of warning. The more your son will consume, the more inhuman he will become." She pushed the cup to him.

"I understand."

"Remember your promise to me shadowhunter."

The scene shifted again, another one of Valentine, youthful and eyes brimming over with confidence. He stood in his makeshift laboratory, a book open in his hand. He was chanting, the language sending shivers through Clary. It was one she had never heard before. Not Latin, Greek, or Sanskrit. Something far more ancient, more powerful. There was a bright light before revealing who or what had been summoned. The room shook like an earthquake, the sound of Ithuriel's voice filling the room. Valentine cried out, clutching his head as Ithuriel slammed into circle with a thunderous crack. The witchlight stones flickered and cracked. Ithuriel could not stand but raised a pair of blinding wings. Valentine looked down at Ithuriel, awe all over his face.

"Ithuriel. I am Valentine Morgenstern and now you belong to me."

Clary shuddered as the memory changed. It was the same place, the only thing different was Valentine. He had aged, a bit more like the Valentine of the present. There were lines on his face and agitation in his expression.

"I will not ask you again. Why were we not given the full gifts of the angels or at least the powers the downworlders possess? The strength, the speed, magic, even immortality! We have been fighting a war that is our birthright, is it not right to have the same things?"

Ithuriel said noting, staring back at Valentine.

"Fine." He growled, pulled out a knife. "You will be of use to me."

Valentine slashed the knife down on Ithuriel, and a blue-ish light appeared where he cut as gold poured out amid a sudden shriek of pain.

Again, the memory changed. This time it was Jocelyn. She was no longer pregnant, but she appeared exhausted. Her normally vibrant hair was tangled and dull. She moved forward, arms outstretched. A wild look in her eyes as she gesticulated.

"He tried to kill Lucien I know it! He's made my baby a monster. I don't know how he's done it, but when I look at Jonathan, I don't see my son. I see a thing and he'll keep doing it! Please, you have to help me Ragnor."

Clary didn't see or hear Ragnor's response because something else, that wasn't a memory, flashed in front of her eyes. An image of great power, of electrified lines crisscrossing and knotting together. Each line was vital to the other; a simple but not as each one became interchangeable before revealing their separateness. A rune. The image burned into her skull, but it fast faded. Clary blinked. They were back in the basement before Ithuriel. Beside her Jace shook uncontrollably. She didn't blame him as her body was doing the same thing.

"Now you understand why this mustn't happen again."

"Yes." Clary sighed. "Oh Ithuriel."

Jace and Ithuriel locked eyes on each other, not speaking. Jace heaving with sadness and he nodded once. Jace pulled out a seraph blade, holding it to his lips.

"Ithuriel." He whispered.

The blade came to, buzzing with life and bright in the proximity of its angel's namesake. Ithuriel's wings rustled in response and Clary felt a pulse of joy at the action.

'There's life in you yet.' She thought.

Jace scratched the circle with the blade, breaking it and Ithuriel slumped in relief. The angel's hand reached for the blade and as Jace began to hand it over, she realized what the angel meant to do.

"No wait."

Both paused.

"You can't. You're special." She said.

"The same thing could be could be said about you Clarissa Morgenstern. You are my vessel."

"Really?"

"Yes. You are the one I am bonded to, that I am truly compatible with whenever I would interact on Earth without harming anyone."

"So what you're saying is…I could help you?"

"…Yes, but that would mean that I would inhabit your body. Although in my current state, my grace most likely wouldn't overwhelm you."

"So I would still be myself?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Are you suggesting that you consent?" Ithuriel paused before continuing. "Life will not be the same; you truly will have to fight-"

"Doesn't that go double for you?"

Ithuriel seemed to give the impression of laughter. "I suppose so, though I don't know how much help I'll be in this state."

"You'll do fine."

Jace looked back and forth between them, concern etched on his face, and Clary realized that he couldn't understand what Ithuriel was saying.

"Clary. What are you doing?"

She smiled. "Helping a friend." She turned to Ithuriel and said, "Alright I consent. Yes."

Ithuriel smiled. The room began to light up, buzzing like a generator come to life. Clary closed her eyes, the sensation of being filled up, so hot that she shivered. The energy, the grace swelled around her and electrocuting her veins. She gasped; the pain was still there, but far more remote than thought possible. Like riding on the back of a dragon. She screamed as her back exploded, flooded by grace. Ithuriel's wings burst out of her, cracking the walls surrounding them. Images, feelings, and sensations crammed into her as the knowledge of a millennium age being bore down into her. Ithuriel was already inside her, a fireball soaking into her skin, lying in her, rumbling with power.

The light faded and Clary slumped down, drained. Jace gripped her shoulders and she had to concentrate to hear his voice. Her own voice was still loud in her mind, she realized with relief. Ithuriel was right, she was still in control.

"Clary, are you alright. Dammit, talk to me!"

"I'm fine. I'm just a bit dizzy so-"

The ground began to shake again, with deep ear splitting cracks of stone coming loose.

'The foundation.' She thought.

"Go!" Jace shouted.

The cages fell at Clary's feet and the corpse of a vampire tumbled around her ankles, one glassy eye staring up at her. She shrieked, leaping up and overtaking Jace as they ran. They raced up the stairs that were crumbling behind them as the foundation shook. Clary stepped forward, and feeling nothing beneath her feet, screamed. Jace grabbed her hand and threw her forwards. She shot out, feet skimming the remainder of the stairs and tumbled out of the passageway and onto the carpet of the library.

"Jace."

Jace leapt out just as the passageway itself collapsed, but he didn't look back.

"Why's this happening?" Clary shouted.

"My guess? A spell, something that tied Ithuriel to the manor, so that when he left, this place gets destroyed."

There was a loud creaking and Clary looked up in time to see the bookcases groan against a sudden weight, cracking together, and folding in half. The rolling ladder screamed as it popped out of place, splintering in every direction. Jace raced to the desk, pulling Clary along with him. He picked up the chair and threw it against the window. The glass shattered and Jace grabbed Clary's hand.

"We have to jump."

Clary didn't have the time to protest as Jace raced ahead, yanking Clary with him, enough that she felt it in her shoulder. They clambered over the ledge and jumped. Clary's heart pounded as she felt the rush of wind. Shards of glass flying around her, turning over and over like diamonds. The manor collapsed, debris rushing behind her as she was flung into the air. She could see everything so clearly, herself soaring alongside the wreckage, every blade of grass as she began to fall to the ground. Jace pulled her towards him, shielding her as they hit the ground in a heap. Clary wheezed as she thudded onto the grass, its sweet scent dizzying. She bolted up in time to see a part of the roof blow off, soaring into the air. It whistled as things began to plummet down. Jace shouted, rolling on top of Clary. His hand blocking her shoulder and she pulled him closer, flinching as something heavy landed inches away from where her head used to be.

They both turned. A sink wrenched out of its mooring and still spitting out water from a chipped tap. Clary exhaled slowly, but Jace remained still. His body hovering over hers, her heart pounded far faster because Jace's breath fluttering her hair. More than that she could feel him so close, like the nature of his veins was a mirror to her own. What was inside him was inside her right? Or was this just the proof their being siblings? He was shaking harder than she was.

"Jace? Are you hurt somewhere?"

"There was a reason I didn't want you to come-"

"What?" she asked sharply.

"You don't think like a shadowhunter. You're impulsive, you make decisions based on how you feel, and you're too trusting. You do things that bring danger to other and it's a liability."

Stung, Clary gasped. "If that's how you really feel, then give me the book and I'll go, then you won't have to-" Clary struggled to sit up, but Jace grabbed her, effectively pinning her.

"Wait." Jace cried. "When I meant that, I had myself in mind."

"Huh?"

"I was talking about myself. I hurt everyone around me, the way I am is wrong. Not you, you're practically an angel. Hell, you just saved one a moment ago, and I-I'm, let's face it-I was experimented on. I've got demon blood inside me. I understand now why I feel the way I do. It's not natural. I'm sorry that it burdens you."

Clary shook, matching her brother's quivering frame. Anger like she had never felt before filled her up; it outweighed the despair of his confession. Jace was about to speak again, looking even more severe than before. As though he was about let the despair color his voice again.

"Burden?" Clary cried. "I never thought it was burden, not once-how dare you, and how dare you say you are evil, because you don't have demon blood in you, because if you had I would never have fallen in love with you!"

Jace pulled back as if slapped, but Clary continued.

"Don't tell me you love me because you hate yourself, that you don't deserve any better any better because you do, and so do I."

Clary pushed Jace off her and began to walk. Jace stared up at her for a moment, blinking rapidly before he heaved himself up and began to follow her.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Back to Madeleine's, bet she's freaking out by now, I've been gone too long."

Jace nodded, heavy with resignation that she had never seen before. "Then I'll go with you."

Their horses had run off, no doubt frightened by the explosion. Clary just considered that she wasn't familiar with the countryside of Idris, but she didn't think Jace…

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know where Ragnor Fell lives?"

"Um no." Jace said. "Just why the desire to go?" he asked.

Clary frowned. "Nothing really. Just a feeling something's wrong."

"Fine then, let's go."

SPNTMI

"Ok thanks, keep us posted."

Sam snapped his phone shut. He looked warily around the room at the other occupants. Dean was farthest from him, leaning on the bedpost with one hand gripping the frame, his legs crossed. It seemed that he wasn't paying attention, as he was staring at the blank television. He didn't notice Castiel staring at him from the wall that he stood against, the angel finally drawing his attention to Sam. He was sitting beside the table that was by the hotel room's door. In the chair opposite he sat Ellen, who wasn't looking at Sam but Luke, who hadn't stopped pacing the length of the room. Magnus leaned much like Dean, his back to the curtained window, wildly exotic against the beige curtains. His legs crossed together helped further the illusion of boredom he exuded.

Simon took a seat on the bed nearest the door, frowning as he exchanged glances with Jo, who lay on the opposite bed, tossing a pillow between her hands. She appeared relaxed, but her eyes were sharp. Simon didn't understand how she could achieve such calm because his back was ramrod straight. Although Luke would've been feeling worse. Luke had shown up looking for Clary. When he said he hadn't seen her, Luke became frantic and he left, Simon in tow to the hunters on the off chance she asked for the help. Of course, it was more by Simon's suggestion, as they had gone to Magnus first. The warlock explained the Lightwoods left the day before and Madeleine Bellefleur not among them and last seen in Clary's company. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

"So why is it such a bad thing for Clary to go to Idris?" Jo asked.

"Because technically she isn't a shadowhunter and no one but a shadowhunter may enter Idris." Luke replied.

"So how is this our problem?" Dean asked.

"Dean." Sam frowned. "It affects us. I have a theory."

All eyes turned to him. Jo set down her pillow and sat up. Magnus's cat eyes dragged to Sam and he arched one thin eyebrow.

"Oh? Pray tell would that be?"

"Share with the class Sammy."

Sam shifted in his seat and spoke to Luke. "Do any of your contacts have any idea where Valentine is?" he asked.

Luke stopped pacing and frowned. "No, why?"

"Because I was on the phone with Bobby. It's been quiet on our end. No demonic omens, signs, or anything, and no sign of Lucifer what so ever."

"What are you getting at? That Lucifer and Valentine are in the same place?" Ellen asked. "If that's true, I suppose it isn't a stretch, but where would they be-hopefully not where I'm thinking."

"Idris." Simon stated.

"Yahtzee." Sam said. "What I don't understand is the significance of Idris? Strategically speaking since Valentine wouldn't want it for sentiment, so its got to have some importance."

"It's the stronghold for all shadowhunters the world over. Topple it and you topple all the institutes. In fact…" Luke paled. "In fact, shadowhunters from all over the world are going to the Capital to a mandatory council meeting on what to do with the issue of Valentine. With all the important shadowhunters-everyone, in one place, it is a perfect time to strike. He could kill everyone."

"Has he finished the ritual?" Jo asked.

"Safe to say that's a certainty." Magnus replied. "Either way, he has the advantage."

Dean grunted. "Sounds familiar."

"What's this to do with Clary?" Ellen spoke up.

"Her brother, Jace, he and the Lightwood's are being put under a microscope for the ship business. The Inquisitor tried to make them out to be traitors and Jace-" Luke sighed. "Well either way, he will feel the brunt of the Clave's hammer."

"Where Jace goes, Clary goes." Simon interrupted.

"They are not a forgiving sort." Magnus said.

"Big surprise." Dean replied.

Both Sam and Luke gave him even looks, but he earned a small smile from Simon. Dean ignored all pairs of eyes. The air hummed with anxiety as Dean slowly unfurled himself, hands moving down his legs as he slapped his jeans.

"So Idris huh? Can we drive there?"

Luke, Magnus, and even Simon stared. A mixture of incredulity and exasperation. Magnus shook his head.

"Just crazy enough to go huh?"

Dean smiled tightly as Luke shook his head.

"Impossible."

"Not for us." Dean retorted.

"So where to?" Jo asked, eyeing Luke.

"There are wards-things that make it possible to gain entrance…" Luke began.

Magnus interrupted. "That mundanes can't break."

"Mundanes are expressly forbidden from entering. I'm not sure what the Clave will do to you if you try."

"Oh not this bullshit again." Jo burst out. "You've seen what we can do, why don't you trust us?" she cried.

"It's not like that." Luke began raising his hands up before continuing. "It's not us you need to convince. This is unprecedented. How-" he turned to Magnus. "How can mundanes even enter Idris?"

"The usual way." He replied not without sarcasm.

"If he can't, then I will." Castiel said.

"I never said I couldn't." Magnus replied. "But I'm in a charitable mood."

Unblinkingly, Castiel said, "If you need assistance, let me know."

Magnus eyed the angel with a bemused look. "Noted."

Castiel nodded and Sam turned to Magnus.

"Ready?"

"We'll need more than this." Magnus replied.

"He's right." Ellen said.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"My pack." Luke stated. "We can go to Idris and I'll rally the werewolves there."

"I can think of a few warlocks who might be willing. Magnus added. "So we'll need someone to hold down the fort."

"Since this could be a trap." Ellen pointed out. "Anyone other than demons we have to deal with?" she asked.

"Just keep your guard up." Magnus warned.

"A good assumption." Castiel said. "Even so, it's a trap that must be sprung."

"That being said, we'll need to hold down the fort." Magnus said.

"Jo." Ellen said.

"Mom." Jo snapped. "I'm not a child."

Magnus rolled his eyes, revealing glitter eyeshadow. "That's what children say." Then he spoke to Jo in a very patronizing manner. "Relax; you still have a very important job. You're not being left behind. Well you are but-"

"I'll stay here too." Ellen said, leveling a death glare at Magnus.

"Same here." Simon said.

Luke stared at him in surprise before shrugging. "Very well, those who are coming do so now." He said.

Dean, Sam, Castiel, Magnus, and Luke all moved to the door. Simon stared as each man began to get ready. Dean handed Luke a sawed off shotgun, the werewolf loaded it with a precision that shocked Simon and made Dean smile. Jo pulled a knife from beneath her pillow and tossed it to Dean.

"Its silver." She said.

"Pass me the holy water please." Sam called. "Thanks."

"Here, have an extra." Dean handed a machete to Ellen.

"Do we have any dead man's blood?" Ellen asked.

"In the trunk." Jo said.

Simon continued watching the bustle, noticing Sam take the colt and slide it into the waistband to his jeans. He watched as Castiel silently nodded to both the women and went to Dean's side.

"Keep you posted." Dean called.

Magnus gave them a wink. They were out the door and it was suddenly much to quiet. Simon sat up, the calm manner of Jo and Ellen disturbed him. It reminded him too much of a war. He didn't think he could ever get used to it. He watched the two women sit at the table, the light of the lamps, the only thing keeping him calm. He closed his eyes, praying for Clary's safety.

SPNTMI

The way to Ragnor's was difficult, but when they finally arrived, Clary felt nothing but relief. She raced to the cabin, ignoring Jace's shout of warning and yanking the door open, boots clattering against the thick wood.

"Ragnor! Madeleine!" she shouted. "I'm sorry, but I'm back. I've got the book."

She peered into the darkness, feeling Jace stand behind, at attention.

"Clary…" he whispered.

At his tone, Clary still in fear. She was about to ask him what was the matter when she finally noticed the smell. Thick and cloying; something that would be poisonous to taste. Jace snorted in disgust, the loathing in his voice cutting and distinct.

"Demons. That's their reek. They have killed."

"No."

She reached for the table, sure that Ragnor kept a lantern there. Her feet couldn't get too far; they nudged into something cold and heavy. Clary's scream was so sharp that it caught in her throat and stuck there letting her choke. Her blood chill inside of her as it drained from her as she grabbed the lantern. The fingers trembled almost too badly to hold it, but some tiny part of her mind was quiet, muscles moving in memory to light the thing without trouble. Chest heaving, she willed herself to look down. It was Madeleine. Or at least part of her. She was missing her lower torso and legs. Her chest was ripped open, ribs gleaming and their shine making Clary's stomach turn. Madeleine's stomach was shredded and Clary had a sudden horrible thought that her flapping flesh resembled paper streamers. Her innards had spilled out of her, and Clary realized that they appeared to be half eaten. Madeleine's bright silver hair fanned out around her, weighed down by her own blood. The strands were still soft looking. It was her eyes that drew Clary in. They were wide with fear and something that Clary couldn't quite define but she was relieved to not know what it was. Clary noticed that Madeleine's eyes still had unshed tears glossing the color. It kept the expression vivid, gaze boring into Clary.

She dropped her gaze to Madeleine's clenched fist, but Clary couldn't bring herself to touch the woman. She realized she didn't need to; she already recognized it, mind repeating it to her. Ragnor's horn. Ragnor's horn bloody down to the stump with bits of skin hanging to the crusts of the base, white strands of hair clinging like some exotic root. Clary's vision tunneled and she dropped the lantern. She didn't hear it shatter, but out of the corner of her eye saw a hand catch it. Jace. Blinking, she evened out her body weight from collapsing onto him. His arm steadying her, his frame against hers. That made it shamefully easier to breathe, so she could concentrate on Jace's words.

"It looks as though she put up a fight. My guess is Ragnor Fell died first."

"Yes he would have." Clary swallowed back tears. "He'd never let anything happen to her, not while he was alive."

Jace frowned and Clary turned to see his expression. It helped her focus when she saw him try to puzzle out what was happening.

"Hang on, I thought demons couldn't enter Idris?" she said.

"No…they can't." Jace stiffened. "Clary how did you meet Sebastian?"

She blinked. Meeting Sebastian seemed like a lifetime ago and what transpired between them unimportant in the face of what happened. It took a moment for her to wonder why Jace was even asking her this, and then she gasped.

"I was horseback riding with…Madeleine when I lose control of my horse and Sebastian helped me."

"Does anyone else know that you are here?"

"No…I…" Clary shivered. "Oh God, oh God. I've I-God no, please God…"

Anguish ripped through her faster than she could process, thoughts spinning. 'All my fault, all my fault.'

Before Clary could scream, Jace embraced her. She tried to recoil, flushing at the hurt look on Jace's face. She glared at her hands, imagined blood coating her fingers. Her thoughts came unbidden, tangling within her, and making her body spasm. Then, like magic, a sense of peace washed over her. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't coming from her. Closing her eyes, she let the feeling overtake her. If Ithuriel could send her feelings this way, then it would hold true for the reverse. Clary let her gratitude build, sending it to the other.

'Thank you.'

"Get out of here."

Clary flinched before she realized the harshness in the tone wasn't directed at her. She stared back at Jace, his gold eyes full of determination that was familiar of the old Jace who was unafraid to face any foe. He pressed the cookbook into her hand.

"Go. Go back to New York, cure your mother. I want to…no I have to stay here." He gave Clary a rueful smile. "I'd like to think it's still my duty to protect Idris. I'll do it till I die."

He said the last part lightly, but Clary felt foreboding. She swallowed and held the book tight to her chest; it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

"Ok then, but not alone. I'll come with you."

"What? No, I-"

"If Idris is in danger because of Valentine, then I have to help." Clary hardened her voice. "You can't stop me."

Jace pinched his eyes shut. "Didn't think so. Alright then." He tugged her arm, voice softening. "Let's go."

"Wait please, we need to bury them."

"Clary…"

"Please."

Clary pulled out her stele, the memory of Alicante fresh but confusing.

"I'm not sure how far I can take us to the city." Clary gritted her teeth. "But I can try."

With a flick of her wrist, she began to form the shape of a portal. She turned to Jace. "Hold onto me."

Jace clasped her hand, branding her on the spot, sending her soul tumbling at the nearness of him and together the stepped into the portal. The tugging, swirling sensations already anticipated. Clary struggled to keep her eyes open, but the world spun too fast to get a glimpse. Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended as the portal stopped, dropping them to the ground. The grass was on her face and she pulled herself to her feet in time to see Jace gracefully land, rolling into a perfect tuck before straightening up and standing erect. Clary felt a small stab of jealousy.

"Show off." She muttered.

Jace smirked. "What can I say? That's how I roll."

It was so unexpected that Clary laughed despite herself. "That was terrible."

He smiled at the reaction. It was the most genuine expression she had seen on him all day. It didn't last long. He sobered up, looking around.

"We're actually very close to the gates where you showed up. So not bad, Clary."

She nodded in thanks and it was silent the rest of the way. Her shoes were too tight, blisters already forming at the heels as they trekked up a hill. Jace was ahead of her, not stopping as he strode upwards, the path rocky and once again Clary admired the ease with which he moved. It had become so steep that she began to use her hands to get to the top. Jace already up at the top, standing wordlessly in front of her. She ignored the swooping in her stomach at the sight of his broad shoulders. She was panting by the time she reached his side and mildly annoyed when he didn't help pull her up. Clary wiped her hands on dirty dress and looked up at Jace. He was horrified, staring transfixed. Eyes wide with the kind of incredulous fear that came only in a person's worst nightmare. She stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. He started so badly that she took a step back, but before she could say anything, Jace pointed. Clary followed his finger and the world dropped out from beneath her feet.

The demon towers of Alicante were lit red from the reflections of fire in the glass of their towers. She saw, like a panoramic warzone, fire burning through the city. If Clary listened hard enough, she could hear the screams on the wind.

TBC…