Hey, I'm back! I know I haven't updated for ages, but I'm pretty sure I have the highest marks in a lot of my classes, and I've been trying to maintain that. Also, the lack of response is starting to annoy me, so I was feeling kinda down... On a happier note, I attempted a small amoung of fluff this chapter (it totally sucks, though), so here goes nothing. And without further ado, Chapter Seven!

*Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Chapter VII

Clary stared, her limbs paralyzed, even as her mind screamed at her to help Jace, call out, and do something, anything. And yet she couldn't move, couldn't even twitch her fingers. The pixie was clinging onto his back, and there was nothing Jace could do to dislodge her. Clary moved without the knowledge of her mind, and suddenly, she was ripping the faery off of Jace's shoulders, the fey's long, twig-like fingers gouging deep grooves into his shoulders.

The pixie stared at Clary with blazing hate in her eyes. Calmly – even though her blood was boiling – Clary produced a long, iron-bladed dagger from her boot. "Asshat, are we invited to see the Queen or not?"

Defiantly, the pixie ignored her, feigning deafness. "I know you can hear me. And I know you know what happens if this blade touches your skin." Clary felt Jace move towards her, and his warm, heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder. Irritably, she shrugged it off, and returned her attention to the fey.

It was obvious that the faery didn't believe that Clary was serious about the knife. She moved it closer, until just millimeters from the fey's green skin, and the air between the blade and the skin heated up, almost crackling with intensity and heat. "FINE! I'll take you to see the Queen!"

Clary smiled and stood up, brushing off her jeans just to add effect. "Good." With that, she walked back into the house, Jace following mutely behind her. It was only when she sat down on the couch, dizzy, that she realized her hands were dripping blood. Vaguely, she remembered the windows shattering when she burst through them, the glass scratching at her face and neck, puncturing her hands in dozens of places.

The warmth that seeped through her hands made her realize that Jace was kneeling in front of her, drawing iratzes on her hands, and that Isabelle was beside him, both of them looking up at her with worried, anxious expressions. The moment of silence stretched on infinitely… until Jace broke the silence.

"Clary, it's against the Accords to threaten Downworlders, especially now with the Alliance rune."

"She attacked first." Surprisingly, Izzy was on her side.

"Yes, and throwing her off is fine. But we can't just draw knives and start threatening to skin Downworlders. That's something Valentine would do." Jace had some difficulty getting around the word 'Valentine.'

Isabelle stared at Jace, her bottomless black eyes drilling into his amber ones. "And if Clary had been attacked by the faery? What would you have done?" she asked, her soft voice sending chills down Clary's spine.

Jace stiffened. Relentlessly, he claimed, "I would have let them go." Nonetheless, his eyes disagreed with what he said, the aggressive protectiveness in them conveying that whomever hurt Clary would have to pay.

Satisfied that her point was clear, Izzy shrank back, smirking. Albeit her eyes showed her envy that Jace and Clary cared so much for each other.

"It doesn't matter. She said that she'd take us to the Seelie Queen, and she can't lie. It's a done deal." The lack of emotion in Clary's voice surprised herself. Her mind was numb as the fact that she had just saved Jace – not vice versa – sunk in.

Isabelle, sensing the tense air that surrounded the three Shadowhunters, got up and left, so that Jace and Clary could argue in relative privacy.

Clary and Jace remained silent, until they heard the bedroom door above their heads slam shut, and music began to blare from the speakers in Clary's room.

"I'm sorry, but did you really expect me to just… do nothing?" Clary questioned incredulously.

"You haven't dealt with faeries before. You don't know how they're like when someone hurts one of their own." The condescending tone of Jace's voice irritated Clary to no end.

"Oh, I haven't dealt with faeries? I wasn't the one who was about to become some miserable, worthless slave to the Seelie Queen unless I kissed my 'brother'? I wasn't the one who that wretched Queen came to when she asked for Meliorn to be on the Council? If that wasn't me, who was it, Jace? Some lookalike?" Eyes burning, Clary stood up, walked to the other side of the room, and turned her back on Jace.

"Clary…" he pleaded. "Look at me, please." Stubbornly, she ignored him, still ranting silently. Who did he think he was, lecturing me on how to deal with faeries after I saved him? I don't need a protector; I'm not a stupid, little mundie, anymore.

"Clary." His voice was harsher now, demanding, rather than requesting that she hear him out. It was closer too, directly behind her rather than across the room, even though she never heard any footsteps. How does he move so quietly? Roughly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, jerking her rudely from her thoughts.

"What?" she snapped. "You expected me to do absolutely nothing, even after you died once? After everything that's happened – the Silent Brothers wanting to lock you up and study you, the whole ordeal where I thought you were Alec's murderer, after all that time thinking you were my brother, can you really blame me for not wanting to see you sliced to shreds?"

His gaze softened, and Clary realized just how close they were, his arms bracing the wall on either side of her head, their bodies pressed against each other, their lips mere inches from touching. His hand left the wall, and cupped her chin, tilting her head back. "I'm sorry. I really am. But—"

Clary shoved him away from her. "But. There's always a 'but' with you, isn't there, Jace? It's never just a simple, 'I'm sorry I was such a bastard; thanks for stopping that fey from transforming me into spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.' There's always strings attached when you say something, anything. And guess what? I hate it. I'm sick of—"

The rest of her words were cut off, as Jace placed his lips on hers. Clary tried to draw back, but was trapped between the wall and Jace. His lips were desperately seeking forgiveness from her, and her anger quickly dissipated. The pounding bass of Izzy's iPod faded away, as did their surroundings, until all that was left was his mouth on hers; his hands on the bare skin of her back; the silky texture of his hair winding around her fingers.

Clary tasted tears on Jace's mouth, and thought she was crying… before realizing that her eyes were dry. Which meant Jace was crying. In all the time that Clary had known Jace, he had never cried.

There was a sudden silence in the house that was immediately filled with Isabelle's voice. "Well, looks like someone kissed and made up."

Clary turned to face Isabelle, biting her swollen lower lip. Jace turned away. To wipe his tears? Clary wondered.

"It's time."

Invisibly, the three Shadowhunters followed the faery down the Manhattan streets to Central Park. The night wind whipped Clary's red hair across her face, reminding her of the sting brought on by Izzy's whip when they trained. The streets were crowded, and as much as Clary expected the mundanes to walk into them, they never did. Somehow, the mundies always found a way to get out of the Shadowhunters' (and Downworlder's) paths, a dropped phone, or stubbing their toe.

When they finally reached Central Park, Clary breathed a huge sigh of clean air, a welcome reprieve from the polluted, smoggy air of Manhattan. Jace and Izzy also seemed happy to be in a more natural landscape, but none of the Shadowhunters' reactions were as profound as the faery's. She visibly shuddered, bordering on a paroxysm, when they left the iron behind.

Overhead, the moon chased them, but halted when they got to Turtle Pond, falling behind as they advanced into the cold, unwelcoming waters. The underwater plants entangled themselves around Clary's legs, causing her to yank her boots from their slimy grasp.

Once again, she was struck by just how graceful everyone else was: Isabelle glided out looking like she did this every day, Jace barely disturbed the water, and the fey hid her snickers behind her twig-like hands, malice glinting in her eyes as she watched her tormentor struggle against the plants.

Finally freed, Clary watched as the faery stepped gracefully into the frozen moonlight and disappeared beneath the surface. Isabelle advanced, casually falling through the entrance as easily as if she was opening the door to her overstuffed closet. The panic of the consequences to come for attacking one of the Queen's minions finally set in, a huge tidal wave of fear washing over her.

Clary felt the warmth of Jace's hand on the small of her back, gently pushing her forward. "Ladies first," he said with a smug smirk. Clary gripped his hand, remembering the heart-dropping feel the last time she had been here. Staring into his eyes, she tried to convey all her worries of what the Queen would do to her after she threatened the faery. His gaze was steady, reassuring, but other than that, unreadable. Obviously, Clary could see the fright in his eyes, but his jaw worked furiously as he forced it back.

Holding his stare, she stepped backwards into the illuminated patch of water. Air whooshed around her, the sound deafening in her ears. Is this how Alice felt when she fell into the rabbit hole? Clary wondered offhandedly. After what felt like an eternity, she landed hard on her butt, tree roots surrounding her, Isabelle towering over her.

"Tomorrow, we're teaching you how to fall properly." Izzy looked down at Clary, sticking out a hand and hauling her up.

"Good plan," Jace's voice sounded from behind her. There was a silence, as the Shadowhunters became aware of an impatient pitter-patter coming from above their heads. In unison, they looked up, and saw the faery guide lounging above them, scowling, tapping her long nails on a nearby tree root. She raised her eyebrows. "You coming, or not?" she demanded irritably.

Meekly, they nodded, following her into the Queen's large, spacious chamber. Along the way they passed the hall with the eternal dancing, but it was different this time. This time, there was no elusive pull on Clary to join them. They were still beautiful, but beneath the façade, they were hideous and decayed. Their intestines fell out; their flesh hanging in long ribbons, and beneath the pulsing, otherworldly music, there was the tortured, inhuman screams.

Clary shuddered. She didn't want to know how many of them were mundanes: unsuspecting, innocent Sightless lured by the charms of the fey. But most of all, Clary didn't want to think of how close she had been to joining those poor people.

Eventually, they edged their way through the throng of gyrating and dancing bodies to the Queen's cavernous room. The music receded as they pushed their way into the room. "My Queen, the Shadowhunters have requested a meeting with you." The faery bowed low, and shot the Nephilim a scathing look that matched the derision in her voice when she said Shadowhunters.

"Why do you seek me out?" she queried, and her green eyes seemed to be able to pierce the souls of each one of them. Clary squirmed; she wasn't used to being so thoroughly analyzed. As usual, it was Jace who spoke for all of them, Isabelle being more interested in checking out the Seelie Court even though she had her on-again, off-again relationship with Simon.

"We'd like to trace a glamour. We have evidence that suggests that the caster of this glamour led to the murder of my parabatai, Alec." Clary stared at him in bewilderment; she hadn't expected him to be so straightforward, so un-eloquent.

The Queen raised her eyebrows. "Surely, with your friend's dalliance with the warlock, Magnus Bane, he would have no problem doing you this favor. Am I not correct?"

Jace clenched his teeth. "We've tried, my lady. He has not been as forthcoming as we should've liked."

The Queen of the Fair Folk smirked. "Well then, why should I help you?"

Like flames, Jace's ochre eyes burned. "It would do you well to remember that the last time I spoke to you – about Valentine – I was correct. We would only come to you if we truly needed your help. It is not our desire to waste your precious time."

They stared each other down, a challenge clear in Jace's eyes, the Queen responding with an impassive, judgmental gaze. "Then, perhaps… you should have thought of that before you threatened to skin a member of my Court." With that, she turned to Clary, gracefully rising from her seat and walking to where Clary stood, petrified with fear.

"You are the one who create the Alliance rune, correct?"

You already know the answer to that! Clary wanted to shout. However, she could not move but for an almost imperceptible nod.

The Queen continued her interrogation. "Then why, pray tell, would you threaten a Downworlder?" Her logic was impeccable, and there was no way to answer.

Surprisingly, Isabelle dragged herself away from her appraisal of the Court to answer. "She was aggravated because the faery that brought us here attacked Jace and was refusing to take us here."

The Queen whirled to look at the fey that had brought them to the Court. "Is this true?"

Unable to lie, the faery answered, "Yes. But she needn't have been so angry and threaten the already unstable peace between our species."

"True that; albeit, you took the initiative and attacked first. I understand that you may have been provoked, but I cannot punish the Nephilim for a crime lesser than one that my own has committed." Unable to help himself, Jace let out a childish smirk, implying so there.

"Will you help us, or not?" Isabelle demanded, tiring quickly of the Fair Folk, after apparently finding nobody who met her criteria.

"I will help you… on one condition. You owe me a favor."

All of them opened their mouths to speak, but Izzy beat them to it. "Done."

Jace and Clary turned and looked at Isabelle incredulously, their mouths agape with disbelief. "Isabelle! You never, ever—" Clary began.

"—Make a deal with the Fair Folk without knowing all the details!" Jace finished.

"Well, sorry for trying to get us out of this mess! I didn't know you wanted us to ramble on here until we die!" protested Isabelle.

The Queen and her court regarded them with cool amusement. "While we may not grow old, that doesn't mean we want to hear your argument – about us—in our immediate vicinity," the Queen chastised.

"Apologies, my lady," Clary smoothly said.

"The Fair Folk would like to re-unite Downworld. There has been much feud and disagreement since we have happened upon the Daylighter. Now we have the chance to return our world to peace and prosperity. Our task for you: We would like you to dispose of the Downworlder. If we have proof of his death, then we shall trace the origins of the glamour for you."

That's right: they have to kill Simon. He may or may not die. Alec may or may not be dead. The only for sure thing is that Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern and Valentine Morgenstern are dead. This was a shorter chapter, because I feel like I'm rambling when I write a 3.5k chapter. If I get enough reviews, next time might be longer. So, review? Please?