Disclaimer: *checks mirror* I'm a brunette with almond shaped eyes. Not a redhead. What does that mean? I'm not Cassie Clare. Also, thank you to Lemony Snicket for the tunnel idea.

I know I said I'd update before Christmas (which I did) and I'm unfashionably late, but I've decided to make my chapters longer with (hopefully) better writing technique. And I've been busy... so these aren't going to be that often.

Thanks for all the reviews! When I ask for five, I get them in the first two days or so. When I ask for five, I get nine. What does that mean? It means you're all impeccably awesome. And thanks to MaxWaylandGrey, you've reviewed every single one of my chapters, and been extremely encouraging.

Chapter IV

Clary drew a ragged breath. She was curled into a fetal position, Jace's arms around her. As much as she didn't want to, she felt safe in his arms. It reminded her of the time they had together, before he left, when they were no longer siblings. She buried her face into his shirt, breathing in the smell that she had tried so hard to forget: limes, soap, and blood. She let out her breath, slowly, trying to force herself back into the emotionless Shadowhunter that she had trained to be. It didn't work. It came out in a half-strangled, tortured cry that made Jace's arms tighten around her. She felt herself being lowered, and wrapped her arms around Jace's neck, clinging, so she wouldn't be alone again. Rationally, she knew that she was hanging on to somebody that had killed her brother, her best friend's fellow archer, and her only girl friend's brother. Clary knew this, but didn't care. Jace was sitting on the ground, now, still holding Clary, as if they had never been apart. As if it was the middle of the night after Clary awoke, gasping, from a nightmare that Jace really had died.

Eventually, Clary calmed down. Remembering who she was, her place, and Jace's place, she pulled away. She saw the defeat and resignation in Jace's eyes. He knew the questions that would be asked, and he knew he owed her enough to have to answer the queries. Clary didn't want to ask. She didn't want to know why Jace had left, and why he had shattered his entire family in the process. Nonetheless, Clary knew what she had to do. "Why?" the single-word question was exhaled on the lightest breath of air. Once it was out though, she couldn't stop herself. "Why did you leave? Why did you kill Alec? Why did you lead the demons to ambush us at the Institute? Because of your stupid actions, Izzy uses me as her punching bag and Magnus is never around anymore." Her lip quivered. Quieter than all the previous questions that had flowed out in an angry, desperate torrent like a river that had been dammed that was suddenly allowed to flow freely, Clary asked her last one. "Why don't you love me anymore?" she whispered, so quietly, she could barely hear herself. She watched his throat shift as he swallowed. Watched him close his eyes and rub his temples as if he had a pounding migraine.

Finally, he spoke. "I left because Alec died."

"He didn't die! You killed him!" she returned hotly.

"Let me finish," he replied with a bitter half-smile. "I led the demons to the Institute because I received an anonymous fire-message. It gave me a choice that truly left me no volition to choose. I had to bring the demons to the Institute, or bring them to Idris. If I didn't, they would take you and perform experiments on you. No sooner had I finished reading the threat, a vial of demon blood was dropped through the window. I peered outside; searching for what had given me the offending thing. There was nothing. I almost told myself that I imagined the whole thing, before seeing the note and blood on my bed. I reminded myself that we could hold them off at the Institute; we had weapons, and enough Shadowhunters. It would be less devastating if we all died, than if all those Idrisians died. I didn't expect my parabatai to die.I blamed myself for his death, to me, it was as bad as murdering him. Hearing that, do you still think I don't love you?"

Clary bit her lip, fingers playing with the ring. She had to admit, the words made sense. "Who sent you the note, then?"

"I don't know." Jace was angry and ashamed. His eyes burned with a fire of rage. "If I knew, why do you think I'm still here, and not avenging my brother's death?" he challenged; his muscles were taut and his jaw locked.

Her eyebrows drew together, as she stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jace had said. They would take you and perform experiments on you. "What experiments?"

"Oh, not much. Mainly extracting your blood, and injecting it into Downworlders. Probably, vice versa, too," Jace answered nonchalantly, even though he knew the matter was excruciatingly grave. "Sort of like what Valentine did to your brother and I."

Clary winced at the hatred and raw pain in Jace's voice. She looked down, seeing his torn and grass-stained jeans, unable to meet his eyes. They were so brutally cold and empty; yet they screamed revenge. Abruptly, she changed the subject. "Did you come to Idris just to see these ruins? Because that book wasn't here when we destroyed this place." She eyed him warily, hoping that he wouldn't lie, understanding that she didn't really know him anymore. There was nothing that was desired more than mending their broken relationship, than finding the truth. Clary needed to understand, to make sense of the confusing maze her life had abruptly become. As much as she and Izzy weren't getting along, she knew that much was owed. Nevertheless, she wasn't ready to face the hardest question: who would kill Alec? And why? So, she shoved it out of her mind, and waited for the answer to an easier question.

"No," he finally answered, "I came to see what I could find in the Morgenstern manor. I found this connecting tunnel that led to here after a grueling walk. I finally reached the end of the tunnel and saw a fluttering piece of paper. It was my note to you before I left to fight your brother. I'd no idea how it had gotten here. I thought-"

Clary cut him off. "That doesn't make sense. I burned it. It hurt too much."

Jace pondered this. Slowly, as if he was still piecing together a conclusion, he ventured, "So… that means that someone who had enough power did this. I mean, you can't create something out of nothing. Even mundanes know that."

"Yes, except while we call it simple logic, they call it The Law of Conservation of Mass. Which means the question is: did someone cast a glamour over yours, or did someone cast a glamour over mine?" Clary knew she could not evade the nagging question anymore. "Chances are that the person who managed what they did with the notes, the same individual might've sent you the warning."

"What makes you say that?"

"Think about it. You come to Idris, walk through a passageway, and find a note that has previously been destroyed. Back at the Institute, you find a note that appears out of nowhere, and threatens me being subject to experiments, or working in cahoots with demons. This doesn't strike you as fishy?"

"No. I see no semblance to fish whatsoever. I have never enjoyed the taste of fish; there is a reason I enjoy mu shu pork, not steamed fish."

Clary just glared and raised both eyebrows.

Jace raised one.

They kept staring each other down.

He broke down first and the corner of his lip quirked into an uneven smile. "However, the suspiciousness of this case is undeniable."

"Shadowhunter or Downworlder?" Clary murmured with a yawn. She was sleep deprived, and the stress of the past day's events had worn her down.

"Either. Both. Neither. A mundie," Jace answered cryptically, his eyes distrustful. "But, still, you should sleep. You look horrible," he added on, his voice losing the hard edge, and being replaced only with care.

Clary shook her head vigorously, clearing her mind of the fog that threatened to resettle if she didn't keep thinking with enough power to run a city. "No. I owe Izzy this much." The statement was flat; unfeeling; true. "How could a mundane do this?"

"Mortmain managed, didn't he? And he didn't have a drop of magical blood. It could be a Shadowhunter who worships Valentine. Though, I don't know why anyone would. Or someone who really doesn't like this Alliance between the Downworlders and us. Which means we're back to square one…" Clary tuned him out. Brainstorming had never been his strong suit. Who would want to kill Alec? The demons had all swarmed towards him, which meant he was their target.

"Well, think about it. He was what kept Magnus with us, and we all know that he was undoubtedly the most powerful of our group. They went all over the world together, South Carolina; India; Europe. He was my parabatai, which is why Izzy and I got along at all. I mean sure, we're siblings and we care for each other, but she would shove me in front of a demon if that's what it took to protect Alec. He and Simon were friends, though I honestly don't know how that happened, other than that their friendship only became evident when we were in Alicante."

Startled, Clary gazed at him with a confused expression. She hadn't realized that the thought was spoken aloud.

"What I mean to say, is that Alec was who held us all together, even though he was incredibly introverted, almost as bad as some depressed recluse. Whoever sent me this threat evidently knew what would happen. He-"

"Or she."

"Or she," Jace amended, "knew that I would be seen as Alec's murderer, which in every way I am; that Izzy would take out her frustrations and anger on you; that you would leave her. What I don't think they foresaw, was that you would find me and hear me out. Speaking of everyone else back at home, how are they? Still thinking of me as a traitorous person who deserves to be hung out to dry?" The last part came out bitter as unsweetened black tea.

"Simon's still living in Virginia; Mom and Luke are fine. They're currently promoting the Alliance, so they're island-hopping in South America when I last heard from them. Who do you think sent you the warning?"

"I've thought about it several times. The more I reflect, the less likely anyone did it. I suppose my best guess would be Camille, if she wants Magnus for herself. But on the other hand, why threaten you?"

"Tessa? Though, again, she'd have no motive…"

"She might, actually. What if she hates this alliance so much because of how she was treated in her time, so she thinks it's unfair that there's this truce now?"

Tessa had told them about how Jace's ancestor, William Herondale had treated her like the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"That's illogical. Wouldn't she want this to stop the persecution against not only herself, but all Downworlders? Especially since she's immortal…" Clary trailed off.

"So, she'd live the rest of her life in better conditions? I considered that too, but what if she's resentful and bitter towards the Clave?"

"So? This would finally be justice, then, right? And as for Camille… while she might want Magnus back, killing Alec would just make Magnus bitterer."

"Not is he didn't know it was her," Jace pointed out unhelpfully.

"As you said, the only motive to kill Alec would be to tear us all apart. We're weaker that way, and that would provide a perfect opportunity to attack."

"Why would anybody hate us that much? In much of the Shadow World, you're a hero. I mean, you're the one who the Clave asked to create the new symbol. Not to mention the whole Alliance rune and killing Valentine part…"

"He was my father, remember? If someone had a twisted sense of justice; patricide is a sin; and voila! A motive."

"Yes, but no one knew that you killed your father. And besides, you didn't. Raziel did when your father summoned him because he was a zealous bigot. "

Clary sighed. This whole conspiracy thing was exhausting. They were going in circles, like a dog idiotically chasing its own tail. Louder than last time, a yawn escaped her. Jace looked at her worriedly.

"We'll figure this out tomorrow. Just go to sleep, I'll wake you if anything earth-shattering happens." He leaned down and brushed her lips once, a reminiscence of before. Clary closed her eyes sadly, tears stinging her retinas. Crossing over into the realm of sleepless dreams, she halted. There was a crackling sound by her right ear. With the last of her strength, she yanked herself back, just to see a fire-message descend towards her. Reaching out with her right hand, the ring on her finger glimmered.

"I'm surprised you kept it," Jace remarked offhandedly as her hand closed around the crumpled paper.

Smoothing it out, she responded, "It was a memory that I treasured." Clary couldn't believe that the hope of being with Jace again, which she had nurtured at the base of her heart and back of her brain for so long, might actually have a hope of existing. The idea mad her happy and she actually cracked a smile. It graced face but slipped like water from a waxed surface as soon as the contents of the note registered in her sleep-deprived mind. Jace read over her shoulder and leapt up, checking his belt for weapons. There, on the crumpled and tear-stained surface was Izzy's handwriting. It looked as though she had been in a hurry, the writing slanted and shaky. Why did crap always come in notes?

Clary,

I'm sorry for being such a bitch. I need your help. The Institute has been compromised by demons. Simon's been taken.

Please.

And if I don't see you again… tell Jace that I miss him.

Could I get six more reviews, to make it twenty-five, please? And if anyone is on Twitter... I hope you liked my South Carolina and Virginia reference. :) If you aren't on Twitter, I recommend that you somehow find out about South Carolina because I laughed so hard that night. To those people who are on Twitter, I'm crystalc13 and I have a LiveJournal account under the same name... but I don't use it. Ever.