I am back! Well, sorta. Hope you don't mind the long absence. Well, best get back into the swing of things!

*Ahem* All characters and plot and whatnot belong to Cassandra Clare.

There. How was that? Oh, and I hope you remember that I love ratings and reviews!

Clary bowed her head slightly as she spoke 'Hello.' Her voice shook, and she tensed up as he took a step towards her. I got out of my chair, and crept around, so I was behind Clary. No need to scare her. I thought to the Brother.

Perhaps I'm not the one who's scaring her? He mused in my head. I frowned but kept my mouth shut.

'I sent the Brothers a letter last night requesting their help in recovering your memories, Clary.' Clary looked anxious and Hodge was trying to sound as comforting as he could. 'You don't have to do this; it's your choice.'

She looked conflicted. I'm sure Clary wanted to know what was hidden in her own mind, but the Brother weren't the most pleasant way to find out what memories were blocked.

This is Jocelyn's daughter, correct? Jeremiah's voice was quieter in my mind. Like he was talking on the other side of the room. It surprised Clary; it would have been louder in her own head. She took a step back, and brushed me slightly. I felt my nerves calm slightly.

'Yes.' Hodge paused, then added quickly. 'But her father was a mundane.'

It matters not. The Brother thought. Our blood dominants.

'Do you know why mother?' Clary asked. 'Why did you call her Jocelyn?'

'The Brothers are the keepers of exhaustive records on all the Clave's members .' Hodge explained. 'They-'

'They can't be all that exhaustive.' I said. 'They didn't even know she was still alive. '

She must have enlisted the help of a warlock for her disappearance. Escaping the Clave is not so easy.

How is that hard? I thought. You change your name, stop using Runes, don't fight Demons and they'll never find you.

Do not underestimate the might of the Clave. Jeremiah's voice had an edge to it, like he was angry. Where we may have failed in the past, we have long made up for.

How? I laughed in my head.

You should look into your own failures and your own past, before judging the past of others. The Brother said it in my head with such finality, like I was a small child being dismissed from his father. I wanted to say something back, but we couldn't be arguing while he was suppose to be helping Clary.

Good. Jeremiah thought to me smugly. You are learning.

'Hold on.' Clary interrupted before I could think anything back. 'I don't understand why Valentine would think my mom had the Mortal Cup. If she really did disappear, why would she bring it with her?'

'As Valentine's wife, Jocelyn knew what he could do with it. She wanted to stop her husband from completing his evil schemes.' I muttered to Clary.

Hodge sighed. 'Yes, that is the main reason. She didn't think the Clave would protect it well enough, so she took it herself. I'm sure the Clave would have come after her if they thought that she could have been alive.'

'Maybe,' Clary grumbled. 'The Clave should invest in dental records, just to be sure that everyone who's thought to be dead, is really dead.'

Something raged in me. 'My father's dead.' I growled. 'I don't need his teeth to tell me that.'

She turned to me. 'Oh come one Jace, I didn't-'

Enough. If you are patient, you will hear the truth from the lies. And with that, the archivist lowered his hood. His head was void of hair, and his face only had indents where his eyes once were. His mouth was stitched all the way across, sewn shut. I heard Clary stifle a gasp.

We, the Brothers of the Silent City, do not lie. His voice was now a thunder in my mind. If you ask of me the truth, you will get the truth. But, only if you give me the truth in return.

' I won't lie to you.' Clary tilted her chin like she was offended.

One's mind cannot lie. He took a step closer to Clary, and so did I. I want your memories.

With him so close, I could smell the suffocating odor that lingered on all of the Brothers and in their City. It was the smell after Marking someone. 'Wait-' Clary panicked.

'Clary.' Hodge was even more gentle than before. 'You have memories that have been blocked, or repressed that will help us greatly. Even the ones formed when you were too young to really have a memory could help. Brother Jeremiah will try and access them. '

That didn't seem to help Clary. She bit the inside of her lip, and didn't say anything. 'She doesn't have to do this if she doesn't want to.' I asked suddenly. 'Right?

'I'll be fine Jace.' She tried to smile at me when she said that, but she still looked too nervous. 'I'll do it.' She turned back to the Brother, and before she could ask anything else, he had his hands on the side of her face, lightly touching her temples.

I could tell the moment that he started to invade her head. Clary's expression went from slightly worried to outright panic. Her hands clenched so tightly, I thought her nails would cut her hands. I could feel a slight pressure on my own mind; what ever the archivist was doing in there was affecting me too. He must have been trying to push past the block, and instead of breaking it down, it was just bouncing off. A shock hit my mind, and I felt dizzy. The room spun, and instead of the books, I saw the walls of my old bedroom. Jonathan, you were the final piece of my puzzle, but you didn't fit. It was my father's voice now, instead of Jeremiah's. He had told me that once while he thought I had been sleeping. I had forgotten about this. Now, I will unleash you, and you will wreak havoc on the Clave, but not in the way I had planned. His voice was harsh, and he sounded ashamed of me. You are my failed son.

'Enough!' I yelled out.

'Jace.' Hodge muttered disapprovingly. He must have thought I meant for Clary. I had forgotten about her. The books slid back into focus, and so did Clary. I glanced down at her hands, which were scored with the marks of her nails.

'Look what she did to her hands.' I gestured, and Clary closed her palms to cover the scored lines up. 'Are you alright Clary?'

She nodded slowly. I could see a slight seen of sweat on her face, more from fear then anything else.

You memories have been blocked. Your memories cannot be reached. The Brother thought.

'So it's true.' I muttered. 'Can you tell who did it? And why?'

No. The block is from a spell, but my power alone cannot find the patterns in the spell to confirm who did it. She will have to come before the Brotherhood, in the Silent City.

'A spell?' Clary must have thought it was a joke. 'Why would someone put a spell on me?'

None of us could answer. It did seem like something out of a child's tale; the innocent girl's memories hidden from her by an evil spell. It felt like a dragon would come flying through the window with the prince any minuet, or an oracle would come and tell us that Clary had to partake in an adventure through a malevolent dungeon. Or maybe, I thought, thinking of Brother Jeremiah, one already has.

'She doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to, right Hodge?' I asked, turning to my tutor.

'No, Jace, it's okay.' Clary took a deep breath. 'I'll go. I want to know the truth.'

I felt a dread creep into my head. Clary, going to the Silent City, alone? I got the feeling that it wouldn't end well, that disaster would come from her trip there. Maybe I should follow them, I thought. Just in case.

Or, Jeremiah thought to me. You could just come.

I nodded, even thought the Brother couldn't see it. 'Okay. I'm coming with you Clary.'

We left a few minuets after the archivist. Things like temperature didn't bother the Silent Brothers, but the air out the Institute was hot enough to make me want to linger inside as long as I could.

'How are we getting there, anyway?' Clary demanded. Even though we weren't outside yet, she was grumpy.

'The Brother's have their own way of getting around. I imagine that we're catching a ride with Jeremiah.'

Clary shuddered slightly at his name. 'One second thought, maybe I don't want to go. One Silent Brother is creepy, but a whole city of them will be-'

' Terrifying?'

'Some thing like that.' She turned to me, and jumped a little.

'What?' I asked.

'You- you look different.' She peered closer, but I shrunk away. I threw a glance into a nearby reflective surface, my earlier dream forgotten. She was right; my eyes had changed again. The middle was light than the outside; it was like I was being swallowed by darkness. Even my hair seemed to be darker. There was a moment of silence.

'You know, I'd feel a lot better about this if Hodge had come with us. ' She muttered.

'What, I'm not protection enough for you?'

Clary frowned, just a small crease in her forehead. I got the sudden urge to smooth it out. 'It's not protection I need right now- it's someone who can help me think.' The crease disappeared, replaced by surprise. 'Oh, Simon!'

It was my turn to frown.

'No, I'm Jace. Simon is the weaselly little one with the bad haircut and dismal fashion sense. '

'Oh, shut up.' Clary shot back, half-assed. 'I meant to call him before I went to sleep. See if he got home okay.'

I glanced upwards and sighed. 'With everything that's going on, you're worried about Weasel Face?'

'Don't call him that. He doesn't look like a weasel.'

I nodded. 'You may be right. I've met an attractive weasel or two in my time. He looks more like a rat.'

'He does not-' Clary started.

'He's probably at home lying in a puddle of his own drool. Just wait till Isabelle gets bored with him and you have to pick up the pieces.' I interrupted before the argument over Simon's face started again.

There was a slight pause. 'Is Isabelle likely to get bored with him?' Clary asked tenderly.

I had to think about it. There was always the chance that something in Weasel Face might capture her attention. Maybe he rides a motorcycle, and completely disrespects his parents; if he did, Isabelle would be all over him faster than Hodge is on leftovers. Bus, seeing as it was Simon we were talking about, that was completely unlikely. 'Yes.'

There was another pause. Clary had turned slightly away from me, but I saw her profile was pensive. Which slowly turned to mild horror.

I asked what she was thinking about. She didn't respond right away and when she turned back towards me, I could tell she hadn't heard the question.

'What?' She asked, slightly annoyed as she saw the smirk on my face.

'I wish you'd stop desperately trying to get my attention like this,' I chuckled. 'It's becoming embarrassing. '

'Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt.' She whipped back.

'I can't help it,' I shot back, equally as quick, 'I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain.'

'You pain will be outer soon if you don't get out of traffic.' She gestured for me to step back onto the sidewalk. 'Are you trying to get run over by a cab?'

'Don't be ridiculous,' I scoffed. 'We'd never get a cab that easily in this neighborhood.' I turned to the left, where the Silent Brother's transportation was coming prowling around the corner. I had heard the engine, and couldn't resist the chance to impress Clary. And judging by her face, she was impressed.

The car rode low to the ground and the whole thing was totally black. Well, it looked like a car. The exterior swam for a second, then settled into the sight I was expecting; a large, gothic carriage with velvet window covering and tinted glass. Jeremiah was sitting on the stainless steel driver's bench holding leather reins that connected to two black as smoke horses. The two animals were shaking their heads and neighing at the cars. I turned to Clary with a question in my eyes. She nodded slightly and relaxed visibly. I could tell she saw through the glamour when her expression changed to one of wonder and a small amount of fear.

I jerked my head towards the transportation. 'Get in.' Clary didn't move, so I gently pushed her in. The Brother was getting impatient. She let herself be escorted in, and I swung myself in after her. I fell back into the seat as the carriage began to move. 'A personal escort to the Bone City is nothing to turn your nose up at.' I told her.

'I wasn't turning my nose up.' She muttered back, slightly still dazed. 'I was just surprised. I was expecting… I mean, I thought it was a car.'

'Just relax. Enjoy that new carriage smell.'

Clary rolled her eyes and turned to admire the view. I didn't bother; the way the horses flew over the cars made me a bit carsick. There was a clatter as the horses jumped over a cab. 'I always thought cab drivers didn't pay attention to traffic, but this is ridiculous.' Clary said weakly.

'Just because you can see through the glamour now…' I let the end hang open.

Clary shrugged. 'I can only see through it when I concentrate. It hurts my head a little.'

'I bet that's because of the black in your mind. The Brothers will take care of that.'

'Then what?' Clary sighed.

I smiled wolfishly. 'Then you'll see the world like it is- infinite.'

'Don't quote Blake at me.' Clary scowled.

My smile dropped a little. 'I didn't think you'd recognize it. You don't strike me as someone who reads a lot of poetry.'

'Everyone knows that quote because of the Doors.' Clary said it like it was an obvious fact.

'The Doors?' I just stared.

'The Doors. They were a band.'

'If you say so.'

'I don't suppose you have much time for enjoying music,' Clary thought aloud. 'In your line of work.'

I shrugged. 'Maybe the occasional wailing chorus of the damned.'

Clary shot me a quick look. 'But you were playing the piano yesterday,' She started, 'at the Institute. So you must- '

Clary stopped as the carriage jerked forward. She grabbed the edge of the seat and looked out the window again. There was a slight pause. Clary seemed to be mesmerized by the sight outside.

'I was just messing around,' I avoid looking at her, not wanting to taint her face with memories of my father. 'My father insisted I learn to play an instrument.'

'He sounds strict, your father.' Clary's voice was sad.

'Not at all.' I snapped. 'He indulged me. He taught me everything- weapons, training, demonology, arcane lore, ancient languages. He gave my anything I wanted. Horses, weapons, books, even a hunting falcon.'

There was another pause. Longer this time. I could tell Clary was summoning up the courage to ask me something.

'Jace, why didn't you tell Hodge about the boy at Luke's house?' She asked. 'I'm sure Hodge could have used that information.'

I looked down at my family ring. The silver was heavy and worn; the stars pattern that covered the band had scratch marks all over it. It brought back so many memories; I wasn't even sure why I wore it, really. 'I didn't want Hodge to think I was only doing this for personal revenge.'

'Then why are you doing this?' She demanded quietly.

'For justice.' I answered immediately. 'And to help you.'

'But why? Why would you help me? You don't even know me.'

'Because if I help you, maybe I'll get some answers. You have ties to Valentine. If you can unlock your hidden memories, maybe I can find him.' My fists and jaw clenched. 'And kill him'

'So you're helping me only to help yourself?' Clary replied coldly. 'So you can go kill a man who did the same to your father?'

I clenched my hands harder; she didn't understand. 'I was 9. Two men broke into the house at night. They had swords, and were dressed for battle. My father wasn't expecting anyone; they caught him off guard. I hid under the stairs, like he told me. That was the last thing he ever said to me. The smell of his blood was everywhere, and I puked' I stopped. I hadn't meant to say that. I turned to the window saw my reflection; I looked like a vampire. I squeezed my eyes shut.

'Jace. Jace, I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't kno-'

I flipped back to her. 'How could you? You didn't ask. You don't care about us, Clary. You only care about getting out of here and finding your mother. We mean nothing to you; we are the boat to cross your river of problems.'

'You're wrong.' Her voice shook, but there was underlying steel in it. 'You do mean something to me. You've all helped me, I do care.'

I closed my eyes again. 'Yes, yes I know. I didn't mean that. Sometimes, I… I just explode like that.'

'Is that why everyone is afraid of you?'

'You've noticed?'

She bit her lip and nodded. 'Sometimes, it's like you're two different people. Alec and Isabelle tread on ice until they figure out which Jace they've got.'

I looked at my reflection in the glass again. My eyes were light once more, and my skin had returned to its more tan look. 'You even look different sometimes. Scarier.' She continued, her voice low. 'Are you okay? We can ask the Silent Brothers about it while we're here.'

I kept my face turned towards the window. 'No. Brother Jeremiah would have said something if he noticed that there was something wrong with me. I'm a teenager; am I not suppose to hate the world and have violent mood swings?'

Clary didn't answer. I felt annoyance stir in the back of my head. I turned to her, expecting the subject to be discussed further. But Clary was biting her lip and looking at her hands.

'What?' I demanded.

She looked up, startled. Her face was paler than before and her eyes seemed huge. 'What are they going to do to me?' Her voice was horse.

The annoyance grew. Why was she so worried? Sure, maybe Brother Jeremiah had been rough with her mind, but we all have to make sacrifices for the greater good. The carriage turned a sharp corner and hit a bump, swinging Clary into me. I caught her lightly.

'Don't worry. They're just going to ask you some simple questions.' I promised as she moved back to her spot. Where had my irritation gone?

'Who would do this to me?' She whispered desperately, 'Why would someone do this?'

'We'll find out and go and kick the bastard's ass. You'll be fine.'

'What if it was Valentine? Jace, what if he had done something to me while-'

'Clary.' I said simply.

She gave a shuttering sigh. 'Jace.'

'Clary, calm down. If it is Valentine, we'll find him and kick his ass twice. No wait. Make that three times.'

'Why three?'

'Things are always better in threes; three holes in a shirt, three courses in a meal, three people in a threesome; the kicking of someone's ass should be any different. Besides, if I can kick his ass twice, might as well do it three times.'

Clary didn't laugh. 'What is he planning? What does the Cup do anyway?'

'It makes more Shadowhunters. If he has it now, it means he wants to make more.'

'Isn't there a Rune somewhere that would bind a Shadowhunter to the person who marked them?'

'Probably not. There wouldn't be a Mark that could be our down-fall.'

'Then could you make one?'

I just stared. 'The last person the make a new Rune was the same person who made the first one. And judging by what that Jonathan kid said, Valentine seems very suspicious of people right now. I doubt he'd want to use a Rune if it meant he could be betrayed. Runes can wear off or be rendered useless by sheer will power. I've done it myself.'

Clary thought on this 'So Valentine just wants to make himself a new army of loyal Shadowhunters. Then what?'

'He'll take over the world, I assume. Or maybe just a small state. Hawaii would be nice this time of year. Valentine probably just doesn't want to pay for his hotel. If he takes over the state, he won't have to pay for anything.'

'Seriously Jace.'

'Alicante then.' I shrugged. 'I'd want to be the king of the Shadowhunters myself, but I doubt they'd let me change the name to the 'Wayland fighters.'

Clary sighed, exasperated. 'Honestly Jace. Why is everything a joke?'

'I was trying to take your mind off things. Did it work?'

'... Yes. Thanks.'

'Anytime.' I muttered. Why had I gone through all that trouble for her?

'Why have we stopped?'

'Presumably because we have reached our destination.'

'The New York Marble Cemetery?' Clary wondered, 'But they stopped burying people in Manhattan a century ago because they ran out of room- didn't they?'

'The Bone City has been here longer than that.' I leaned over to open the door, and Clary flinched. Was she really that scared?

'You don't get a choice, do you?' I gave her a questioning look. 'About being a Shadowhunter. You can't just opt out.' She supplied.

The door swung open and the cooler air in the carriage was replaced by the sticky air from outside. 'No. But if I had a choice, this is still what I'd choose.'

'Why?' Clary asked. She didn't sound nosy, just curious.

'Because it's what I'm good at.' I muttered as I jumped out. Clary looked at the gap from her feet to the stones below. I held out a hand to help her but she didn't take it. She looked at me proudly when she didn't fall over.

'I would have helped you down.' I insisted.

Clary blinked. 'It's okay. You didn't have to.'

There was slight rustle from behind me, and I glanced behind me. The Brother had gotten down from his seat and was walking silently away from us. He cast no shadow as he walked.

Come. The silent command rung in my head. I gestured with my eyebrow and we followed him.

The darkness didn't bother me in the slightest, but Clary crept around like she was going to rob the place. Her steps echoed in against the grave markers slightly: the Brother and I made no sound as we walked. Jeremiah stopped in front of the entrance to the City, but Clary didn't. She yelled when she hit my back. I could hear her heart was racing. 'Don't screech like that.' I muttered, finding I was whispering myself, 'You'll wake the dead.'

She crossed her arms. 'Why are we stopping?'

I pointed. We had stopped a few feet from a man-sized statue of an angel holding a chalice. It was made from marble and the angel's expression was the usual expression; mysterious, beautiful and angry.

Clary leaned past me to read the inscription and date at the bottom. 'Is that meant to be the Mortal Cup?' she whispered.

I nodded. 'And that's the motto of the Nephilim- Shadowhunters- there on the base.'

Clary had her thinking face on. 'What does it mean?'

I grinned. 'It means ''Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of Our Enemies Since 1234.'''

'Jace-'Clary sighed.

It means Jeremiah intoned, The descent into Hell is easy.

'Nice and cheery.' Clary shivered, and I felt bad for mocking her.

'It's the Brother's little joke, having that here.' I explained. 'You'll see.'

I took a step back. Brother Jeremiah had taken out a stele while we were talking and was drawing a Rune on the statue's base. The angel's mouth dropped open, like she was screaming, the grass at her feet crumbled and a granite staircase descended into the black. Clary peered into the hole, but I could even couture the steps all the way down from where I was standing. There were various torches that lit the way, but the pool of light were limited to a small circle around the flame. No one had made a move to go down, so I did. I got to the first torch before I had to look back. Clary was still standing on the grass, terrified. 'Come on.' I hissed. Clary nodded slightly and took a step. I closed my eyes. I was annoyed again. It probably had something to do with the pounding headache that had just gotten worse. I hadn't noticed it when I had left the Institute, but I noticed it now. It felt like someone was driving a knife into my skull. I reached over and took a torch out of the bracket as Clary came practically running down the stairs. Clary looked slightly green, but it wasn't from the torch.

'Are you alright?' I asked.

She nodded like if she opened her mouth, she'd puke on my shoes. She took a shuddering breath and looked down the tunnel. I didn't know how far we were underground, but tree roots curled along the roof and the only light was from the flames.

'It's so... Dark.' she muttered. Her eyes flickered to me, and she jumped.

'What?' I demanded.

'Nothing.' She shook her head.

I shrugged and kept walking.

'Wait, Jace.' I stopped. 'She grabbed my shoulder and turned me towards her. 'Your eyes aren't reflecting any of the light.'

'So?'

She dropped it. 'Never mind.' She shivered again.

'Do you want me to hold your hand?' I asked, only slightly sarcastic.

Clary jerked her hand away from mine. She stood her ground. 'Don't talk down to me.'

'Well, I could hardly talk up to you. You're so short.'

I looked up from her to the Brother who had appeared over her shoulder. ' No need to stand on ceremony, Brother Jeremiah,' I stood aside so he could pass. 'Lead on. We'll follow.'

I moved Clary out of his way and the Brother kept walking. Her skin was clammy but warm.

You should stop making excuses to touch her. The Brother put in my head. Or she'll begin to wonder why.

So what if she does? I fired back.

There are things that are best to go untouched. His voice sounded mysterious, like he knew something I didn't. I took a step towards the Brother, and Clary knocked my hand out of reach of hers. I heard a laugh dance through my head. I gritted my teeth but kept walking.

I had seen the Silent City before, but I felt an awe this time I hadn't the first time. Clary was certainly mesmerized by the arches. They looked like marble, but the memories of the dead that composed those arches were like ghosts; if I listened closely enough I could hear their final moments.

I kept my eyes looking ahead and my loose hand at my side. I hardly wanted to give our guide another opening for taunting.

'Jace?'

'Hm?'

'What's that?' Clary's voice echoed now, unlike in the tunnel. She hadn't stopped, but was going a lot slower.

'It's a mausoleum.' I moved the torch closer so she could see the Rune carved into the doors. The light of the flame danced on the sheen of the white marble, and I could see our reflections in it. 'It's a tomb. We bury our dead here.' I moved on before she could ask about my father. From her questions earlier, I knew she was still curious.

'All your dead?' I heard her murmur. She hurried after me, Jeremiah scaring her to my side. 'I thought you said this was a library.'

There are many level to the Silent City. The Brother interrupted. And not all our dead are buried here. There is another ossuary in Idris, much larger of course. This level contains the mausoleums like this one and he place of burning.

'The place of burning?'

Those who died in battle are burned. Their ashes are used to form the marble you see. The blood and bones of demon slayers are a powerful protection against evil. Even in death, the Clave serves its cause.

Clary winced at the thought. We walked farther, the tombs encasing us. Even Jeremiah's jibes had ceased.

We got to another set of stairs. Our guide didn't hesitate; but Clary did.

'The achieves and council rooms are on the second level.' I assured her. 'This will be the last set of stairs.'

'Where are the living quarters? Where do the Brothers sleep?' She whispered to me.

Sleep? The thought came from the Brother at the bottom of the stairs.

I laughed. 'You had to ask.'

We passed through another tunnel, this one made of the same marble as the arches. It opened into a square. The smell that hung around the Brothers, the smell of Runes, was heavy here. Probably because in the centre of the room, seated at a long table, was the Council. The Sword was mounted on the wall behind them menacingly. Jeremiah sat down among his brethren and Clary looked at me. A gave a small shake of the head and she walked forward onto the Speaking Stars. I leaned against the wall and waited. Clary was talking, and seemed to be telling them off. I chuckled; leave it to Clary. I felt an increasing pressure in the room: they had started. I looked at Clary and found her hands tightly clenched, her body twisted away from them slightly and her eyes were shut. The pressure kept getting stronger. I closed my eyes in a reflex. The headache had been replaced with a full on migraine. Lights danced before my eyes. I opened them and the Council room had disappeared.

I was looking at a funeral pyre. I looked around and felt a alight vertigo. I was shorter and my hands weren't marked and scared with battle. I was nine again. I walked towards the man dressed in white. The Silent Brother's voice rumbled in my head. I looked at the man's face. His eyes were covered by coins, and he was blindfolded by white silk. I looked for clues as to who this man could be. I saw a ring on his finger: a family ring. I picked up his hand and the ring fell off his finger and rolled onto the floor. I couldn't believe it. The ring had been the Wayland family ring. But the man on the pyre was jot my father. The ring fit perfectly on my Father's finger. The ring had fallen off this man's hand. Technically, the ring had been passed on to me, last week I had gotten I for my birthday, but it was customary for the dead member of the family to wear it during their burning. So why was this imposter wearing it?

'Excuse me.' I walked up to a man, his back turned to me. 'There's been a mistake. That man is not my father.'

The man turned. It was the one who had been at my house, who had told me my father was dead in the first place. ' Jonathan,' He sighed, 'There is no mistake. He is your father.'

'No!' I was getting frustrated; why would I lie about something like this? 'My father is bigger than that. He has a scar on his hand; the man on that pyre doesn't.'

The man grabbed my arm and half walked, half dragged me over to the side of the room. 'Jonathan, that man is your father. Stop asking questions and pay your final respects.'

'To a man that isn't my father?' I asked coldly, 'I wouldn't know what to say.'

The older man slapped me. 'Shut up and do as you're told.'

Wanting to preserve my dignity, I walked over to the corpse. I could hear the man muttering to himself.

'Geez. Valentine had said he'd wouldn't cause any problems. So much for fooling the kid.'

I bent down like I was going to kiss the dead man's forehead, but I kept my head low and tried to figure out what the man meant. Valentine? He must have been that one who killed my father. I felt my blood boil. I had to avenge my father; I had to kill Valentine. I found the ring and put it on again. It would be a constant reminder of my mission. I kept listening to the man; he was speaking to someone.

'The boy knows. What should I do?' The first man asked.

'it doesn't matter. He won't remember this anyway, not without assistance. Just keep him quiet until the body is burned.'

The first man nodded and started to walk towards me.

'Oh, and Blackwell?' Blackwell stopped and turned. 'You'd better keep on your toes. Valentine is on the drug again. If you even mention this to him, he'll kill you.'

'Right. Better keep this between us then.' Blackwell started walking towards me again, and I stood.

'Ready Jonathan?' He asked. 'I'll get the torch.'

The Silent Brother came over with the torch.

Please begin. He voice sounded in my head.

I set the flame to the corpse's white silk covering and stepped back. The whole thing soon caught. Through the curtain of flames, I could have sworn I saw my father leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed. He was smiling.

A wave of pain shot throughout my head as I heard a scream and I sunk to the ground. When my knees touched the ground, the flames of the pyre once again became the torches of the council room. My eyes were out of focus and the room spun. Who had screamed. A red blur caught my attention. I stumbled over and knelt down. It was Clary. The red wasn't from her hair thought. It was from the slowly growing pool of blood.