Hey guys!

So i'm looking for a beta reader^^ And there are just so many people that I can't choose so I rather do this this way: if you're a beta reader and you're interested in lil' ol' me PM me because I'd probably love to work with you LOL especially since I'm not a native English speaker ^^

I also want to thank everyone that reviews or has added Catching Fire to their Alerts/Favorites! I love you guys!

Anyway, back to the story!

Lilly

Chapter Nine: Playing with Fire will only get you Burn, Jace Herondale

Clary woke up with a ray of sun on her face, gently tickling her nose. The sheets were only partially covering her and the turned-on AC caused her to shiver. Her face was buried in Jace's chest, his arms encircling her waist. She stared at him for a while. How he looked so much younger and fragile when he was asleep, how all trace of arrogance was gone and she could almost see the little boy from Céline's family albums. A blond curl was falling in front of his eyes and she instinctively reached for it and pushed it aside. Jace groaned and tightened his grip on her. She frowned; she hadn't even touched his skin. He kept his eyes closed a little longer while she smiled and shook her head slightly.

"Morning," he whispered, leaning forward and finding her lips despite his closed eyes.

"Hey," she whispered back, running a hand up and down his chest, kissing him back.

He groaned against her lips, causing her smile to widen as she pressed herself against him, intertwining her legs with his. There was nothing better, she thought, than this short moment at the beginning of the day that belonged to them and only them. That in twenty, thirty years from now, she would wake up and see Jace's same beautiful face, the only face that ever mattered.

He gently pushed her shoulder, forcing her to lie on her back, her red hair scattered over the pillow in the messy curls of morning. He propped himself up on his elbows, looming over her and bent his head to lick her lips until she parted them. His kisses lowered to her bare throat, her bare collarbone, her bare chest and she moaned when he reached her belly button, her legs spread on each side of him. Clary never really understood how Jace jumped into focus like that, how one minute he was sleeping and the next they were minutes away from–

The loud ringtone of a cell phone tore through the air, and Clary sighed, covering her eyes with her hands with the strong desire to shout at the vibrating phone. Jace froze and closed his eyes, his forehead resting on Clary's stomach. She bit her lip as she watched him roll back to his side and grabbed his phone on his bedside table.

"What?" he demanded, harsh-voiced which deeply satisfied Clary.

She pulled the sheets over her and looked at the plain white ceiling. She had thought about painting it but had changed her mind at the last minute.

"Are you sure? That sounds –" He took a quick look over his shoulder and stood up (when had he put his boxers on Clary wondered). "– unlikely," he finished, leaving the room.

Clary sat up, her head resting against the bed headboard.

"Things were starting off so well," she muttered to herself, hearing the sound of Jace's footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. "Stupid phone. Stupid work."

And just as she pronounced the words, her phone rang.

"This better be good," she groaned.

"Hey, calm down Tiger." Magnus laughed on the other end.

"Sorry Mags," she apologized, recognizing her best friend's voice and fell back onto the soft pillow.

"It's okay. We can't all be as happy as I am when I wake up!"

Clary chuckled. "How do you do it?" she asked.

"Oh you know, with the sex dreams and everything it's –"

"Magnus!" Clary exclaimed, her free hand flying to her cheek.

"I'm just kidding," he replied. "Well, almost. Anyway, Izzy and I were wondering if you wanted to grab brunch?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer when Jace came back and shot her an apologetic look.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

He nodded before vanishing into the dressing room through the door on her left and came back a couple minutes later, fully dressed and ready to go. He bent down and kissed her and just as quickly he was gone.

"Clary?" Magnus called.

"Sarabeth?" Clary proposed, blinking hard.

"Of course, where else would we have brunch?" he demanded and she could almost hear him smile.

"I'll meet you guys in twenty minutes?"

"Sure. By the way did you know your parents are in town?" Magnus added.

"What?" Clary's mouth fell open. "Tabitha's birthday is tomorrow," she said out loud. "Crap! Thanks for reminding me."

"Don't panic, I told Izzy and she suggested we go shopping this afternoon," Magnus explained.

"You guys are the best, you know that?"

"Yes, we do." She heard Magnus laugh. "Speak of the devil. Izzy just texted me. She wants to know where we're going on vacation next month."

"Somewhere hot?" Clary suggested. Magnus didn't answer. "I know you're rolling your eyes, Mags." He laughed again. "Can we talk about it over brunch? My stomach is growling like crazy and you're asking too much of my slumbered brain."

"Sure. Just one last thing."

"I'm listening," Clary yawned, jumping out of bed, motivated by the prospect of shopping for her little sister and planning her family vacation which always turned out to be full of awesome adventures.

"What are you going to wear today?"

"Seriously?" Clary sighed. "Denim shorts?"

"How about you put on the dress in the box in front of your door?" Magnus suggested.

"Did I tell you how much I love you?" Clary asked, rushing to the door, only wearing her bed's sheets that she had quickly wrapped around herself in a pastel green hand-made toga.

"Every day, it's implied."

xXx

"What's going on?" Jace asked when he walked into the office numbered 2345 in the Alicante Tower.

Hodge Starkweather's head snapped up and he shook the hand Jace had handed him firmly. He was in charge of maintaining his and Alec's covert status and led a small team of operatives and techies to make sure their families stayed safe. One of Jace's mother's best friends was a CIA operative and she didn't know. Hodge had also been his trainer at the Farm, but that seemed to be a decade ago, which now that he thought about, it almost was.

"You know how we flagged every search that included the words 'Jace Herondale, New York'?" Hodge asked, swallowing a sip of his black coffee. Jace nodded. "Well, we just had a hit."

"Where?" Jace asked. He wasn't entirely convinced that it had been necessary to trouble him for an internet search on him. Besides, chances were it was probably just Izzy fooling around and Googling the whole family just for fun. He rolled his eyes mentally. It seemed that lately his phone would keep ringing when he wished it really wouldn't. He wasn't ready to give up morning sex just now.

"Tribeca," Hodge answered, "That's where –"

"Yes," Jace said. He ran a weary hand through his hair, wishing he could just go back to sleep next to Clary and forget Valentine Morgenstern ever existed. But for his sake, and probably the country's sake, he had to see this through. Sometimes it really sucked to be him.

"The feed originated from an internet café," Hodge began, "of course, we weren't able to identify anyone we knew through the surveillance video. We're still running the recognition program in case we missed someone."

Jace's head was already racing.

I just can't shake the feeling that Valentine is here for us, Alec had said the day before.

But that's impossible, Jace thought. He could search as long as he wants and he wouldn't find me. Not on the internet anyway.

"Don't worry, whoever it was had been fed the fake photo and a couple of information that had nothing to do with you," Hodge said, seeing the concern on Jace's face. "There was something else, though."

"What?" At that point, Jace braced himself for the pain in the ass.

"Along with your name, whoever made that search also searched the words 'Clarissa Herondale, artist' into the database," Hodge added.

Jace felt his heart drop in his chest. "What did they find?"

"Only that she was showing her paintings to the Golden Door Gallery until the end of next month," Hodge said. "There were a couple of pictures of her though, as soon as we saw it, we took them off the site."

"I've gotta go," Jace declared.

"Wait, Jace!" Hodge grabbed his arm before Jace reached the door. "There's no need to alarm everyone, or to act erratically. We're doing a background check on every single person that entered this internet café during the past two weeks. If there's anything to be found, we'll find it. You have my word."

"I need to know that she's okay," Jace whispered and took his phone out. "Damn signal," he cursed.

"I know, but if Valentine's watching her, you'll only make things worse," Hodge reasoned. "Or even blow your covert status and endanger everyone."

"So what? I'm supposed to stay away from my own wife?" Jace exclaimed.

"No, of course not," Hodge soothed. "I'm just asking you to be more careful. I'll send a team to watch over her."

"Jace!" Alec burst in the room. His hair, Jace noticed, was all wet and dripping on his worn-out shirt. "I heard."

"Please don't tell me 'I told you so'", Jace said. "I'm not in the mood."

"I see that," Alec replied. "So what do you want to do?"

"Call Sebastian," Jace ordered.

"What do I tell him?"

"That there is a change of plans," Jace said.

"What kind of change?" Hodge dared ask.

"We can't find Valentine and the only one we know who knows about his whereabouts is –"

"Pangborn," Alec finished. "What do you want to do? Go and talk to him?"

"No, he wouldn't tell us anything if we did," Jace explained. "Much too powerful and arrogant for that."

"Then what?" Alec asked. He was starting to lose his patience.

"We're going to kidnap Tatiana."

xXx

Jonathan was standing in front of the Golden Door Gallery, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Under the light of day, it looked different as if he had been to another place altogether three nights ago when he had first met Clary. But the gold double doors were unmistakable. He was in the right place. People walking by them seemed to instinctively distance themselves as far as possible, as if Jonathan and Valentine spread fear through their simple presence. His lips curled into a smile. He took a step forward and, followed by his father, he entered the gallery.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Valentine asked.

"Yes, Father, I'm sure," Jonathan answered through gritted teeth.

"If you're right, son," he began, "this means Emil's list is useless, therefore so is he."

"I never liked him anyway," Jonathan shrugged. "Don't we need him though? For the information you were talking to me about?" About my mother, he thought but he couldn't say the words. They carried too much loathing to be pronounced aloud.

"Oh, yes of course," Valentine agreed. "We still need to take care of that. But one thing at a time."

The gallery was almost empty of people. The light was pouring through the high-ceiling room from the tall windows and there were no lamps inside. In the middle of the day, he noticed the small flaws of the room he hadn't noticed before because of the darkness, the dust, the cracks in the walls and the slightly crooked painting that no one had bothered straightening.

A young Indian woman scribbling at her desk looked up, greeted them and went back to work. She was sort of beautiful, with her coffee-color skin, long dark brown silky hair fastened in a high bun and clear blue eyes. She was wearing a simple and elegant black dress and ballerina flats.

Nothing like Clary though, Jonathan thought, too exotic for my taste. But probably dad's.

"Hi," Jonathan began, working a convincing warm smile on his lips. He bent closer to her. "We're looking for a way to contact Clarissa Herondale?"

Valentine smiled.

"She's not here today," the woman answered. "But I think Laurel is."

"Her agent?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes."

"Could you get her for me, please?"

"Sure," the woman smiled, winking at him. "Laurel? There're people here to see you about Clary!"

Another woman appeared through the frame of a door, typing on her phone. She looked nothing like the desk girl. She was wearing a cream suit with stilettos, her blond hair falling over her shoulder. "Clary won't be here for a while, she's working from home. But if you leave your number to Nasreen, I'll call you next time she exhibits a new series."

"I thought maybe you could give me Clarissa's number," Jonathan explained. "We've already met but although I gave her mine number she forgot to give me hers."

"I'm sorry, but I can't give her personal information out to strangers," Laurel answered. "No offense."

"It's really important that we talk to her," Valentine interjected.

"I'm really sorry, but I can't," Laurel repeated. "If you give me your name I can tell Clary you've come to see her. She'll probably call you back."

"I'm afraid that is not an option," Valentine said softly, shaking his head. "What a shame, I'm sure you had a bright future."

Jonathan had already moved to the door and locked it, slowly turning to Nasreen. The woman paled, staggering up and backed down until her hands touched the wall behind her.

Laurel screeched in agony as Valentine plunged a knife into her chest. As a reflex, he put a large hand on her mouth to muffle the sound of her scream. Blood flooded from Laurel's mouth and wounds, splattering on Valentine's hand and expensive-looking suit. He gently accompanied her as her legs gave out and she sank to the ground.

Nasreen watched helplessly, paralyzed with fear. She couldn't breathe, couldn't talk, couldn't move or run away. She stood petrified as Jonathan sauntered toward her, the gleaming silver blade of a knife shining in his right hand. His dark irises seemed to have melted into his pupils as he stared at her with a cruel glare, his mouth twisting in the most horrible smile Nasreen had ever seen. She gasped and her legs responded when the panic and her survival instinct took over the fear. But she wasn't fast enough and with a swift twitch of his blade, Jonathan slit her throat as if he was slicing a pie.

Nasreen stumbled a few feet before she fell too, her head hitting the floor in a sickening sound of a skull cracking open on concrete. Jonathan stepped over her, joining his father.

"I think they have a studio in the back," he said. "You should find something to wear there."

Valentine nodded and handed Laurel's phone to his son. "Find her," he ordered him before disappearing in the studio in the far end corner of the gallery.

Jonathan scrolled down a surprisingly long list of contact names before stopping on Clary's.

"Gotcha."

Hihihi

I spent so much fun writing this chapter I really hope you liked it!

As usual R&R,

See ya!

Lilly