A/N: Last update for the weekend. Thanks for the amazing response to this story - It's really great to get positive feedback and has motivated me to write three new chapters which will be up in the next week. Thank you! :)
Jace's POV
I stare at the clock on the wall, watching the thin hands slowly counting the minutes that pass. Resting my chin in my hand, I tap my finger on the table impatiently and narrow my eyes when Maryse once again walks into the kitchen and, once again, offers me food. I shake my head and return my focus to the clock.
It's been 720 minutes since I woke up.
It's been 714 minutes since I realised Clary was gone.
It's been 710 minutes since Isabelle told me that she was meeting a boy.
It's been 645 minutes since I walked to Java Jones, hoping to find Clary and bring her home safely.
It's been 620 minutes since I realised she wasn't there.
It's been 600 minutes since I walked back, worry burning in my veins.
It's been 535 minutes since I paced the Institute, waiting for her to return.
It's been 403 minutes since I realised that was pointless.
It's been 402.5 minutes since I tried calling Clary.
It's been 402. 25 minutes since I realised I didn't have her number.
It's been 401 minutes since I went to the training room and tried to train.
It's been 340 minutes since I gave up on that idea.
It's been 330 minutes since I went to the library and tried to practice piano.
It's been 300 minutes since I gave up on that idea too.
It's been 250 minutes since I paced the Institute, waiting for Clary's return.
It's been 220 minutes since Raphael turned up at the Institute with the news of Zan's injury.
It's been 215 minutes since Isabelle and Alec fought with me over who would go to their aid.
It's been 213 minutes since I lost that argument.
It's been 210 minutes since they left.
It's been 209 minutes since I paced the Institute, waiting for them to return.
It's been 122 minutes since they returned with Zan.
It's been 100 minutes since I sat with Zan, recounting his recent fight.
It's been 1 hour since I returned to the kitchen and sat, watching the clock.
So, in all, it's been 720 minutes of me sick with worry.
"She's back," I hear Isabelle say from the doorway – her dark hair falling in her eyes. She yelps slightly when I push past her, my mind only focusing on making sure Clary's safe. I sprint down the corridor, jumping three steps at a time down the staircase, rushing towards the hallway as quickly as possible.
When I finally arrive, Clary is taking her blade from her belt and dumping it in the umbrella stand to her left. Her flaming red hair is matted, once again, with blood and dirt but – where most guys would find it disgusting – I find it oddly endearing. It reminds me of when she would play with Indie and Isabelle in the parks back in London. Where the two other girls hated getting dirty, Clary didn't seem to care. In fact, she usually had pen or mud smudged on her face.
"Next time you decide to go wondering off with a boy, would you mind telling me?" I ask, frantically pulling her into my arms and burying my face in her hair. "I need to know who I'm fighting off."
I hear her chuckle quietly and feel her tiny arms wrap loosely around my waist. "No fighting. It was just Simon."
"I heard about this Just Simon person," I say stiffly, pulling back and narrowing my eyes. "It sounds like you're very close."
She nods, biting her lip. "He's my best friend."
"Uh- huh."
"He's just my best friend."
"Sure."
"Jace," She snaps, green eyes blazing. "Will you stop? He's just a friend." She pulls out of my arms – my mind instantly registering how much colder I feel without her – and slips out of her blood-stained jacket.
I stuff my hands and follow her – taking two steps at a time so I can catch up with her. "Are you angry with me?"
She sighs, stopping at the top of the stairs and turning to me - shaking her head. "No, I'm not angry."
"You know I just don't want to get hurt again, right?" Her eyes soften and my heart stutters a little bit. She takes my hand and laces her fingers through mine.
"Jace," I look at her expectantly, "can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"W-"She stops herself and looks down at the ground.
"It's okay, you can ask me anything," I say, taking her chin in my hand and lifting it so she's looking at me. Her lips are parted slightly and I want nothing more than to kiss her, but I can't. I can't. I can't.
"Can you tell me about Jonathan?" My stomach clenches, my heart drops to my feet, I let go of her chin and my breathing deeply. Jonathan? Really? She can't remember her life in London but she can remember her arsehole of a brother? That's just great.
I clench my jaw and cross my arms over my chest. "Why?"
"Jace, I want to know," She says, her big, green eyes staring up at me pleadingly. "Please."
I sigh, grabbing her arm and steering her towards my bedroom. When we enter, she immediately sits at the window seat where we sat the previous night – curling her legs up under her. I flop down next to her and drag my hand down my face in exhaustion, yawning.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything," She answers. "Why is everyone so frightened of him? Why does no one want to talk about it with me?"
I stare out the window and watch the bright lights of the cars below light up the street. "The person you really should be asking is your mother."
"Well, I can't," She snaps. "She's been taken, and I think the only way to get her back is if I know about my brother and my father."
"He is not your brother, and he is not your father," I say bitterly. "They have done nothing but hurt you, Clary. They might not have hurt you directly, but they have hurt you."
Clary bites her lip, turning her head away and closing her eyes. "He killed Max. I know that. I know they're bad people, Jace. But why? Why did my mother stay with him? With that monster?"
"Valentine has his ways," I whisper, letting my hand rest on her knee. "He – I think that he, at one point, was charming, I suppose. I think that he was fair and confident in people, nice even. But he had evil intentions. Maybe he thought what he was doing was for the best and convinced The Circle, but ultimately, he was aiming to rule over Shadowhunters.
"As for Jonathan," I make a face – narrowing my eyes and clenching my fists, "He's pure evil. No goodness in him whatsoever. Clary, he's not human –not fully anyway."
"How come?"
"He – we – were given something when our mothers were pregnant with us. As Shadowhunters we have a mixture of angel and human blood which gives us unnatural abilities. Jonathan has demon blood, as well as the normal human and angel, which Valentine gave to your mother when she was pregnant with him."
"What do you mean, we?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "My mother was also given something when she was pregnant with me. But he gave my mother angel blood." Bile rises in my throat as I breathe in deeply. "Jonathan and I – we're experiments. Your father's experiments. Jonathan is undeniably evil and cruel and bloodthirsty, and I'm good in every way he's not."
"What about me?" She asks. "Have I got demon blood in me?"
I shake my head fervently, taking her hand in my own. "No, no. He didn't know your mother was pregnant with another child when she was expecting you. What we do know is your mother was given something but we're not sure what it is. If it's angel blood, you could have powers. If not, then we may never know."
"Powers?"
"Powers," I confirm, nodding.
She looks down at our intertwined hands, frowning. "Y-You think I do have powers?"
"Yeah, I do."
"And what does that mean? What if I do have powers?"
"Then you can you are our advantage on them – The Circle - in the inevitable fight that will happen. As soon as we get your mum back."
Third Person POV
"You will not tell your family. They cannot know about your job and they cannot know you are part of The Circle." Twenty-Four nodded solemnly, his hand dripping with blood – the scarlet liquid falling into the cup positioned under his hand. "This is our secret, meaning you cannot tell a soul. If you slip, you will be killed."
"Yes, Sir," Twenty-Four answered. The Master nodded, satisfied, handing his servant a bandage and dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
"Don't slip up, Twenty-Four. If you do, he'll have both our heads."
"Yes, Sir," said Twenty-Four, wrapping the white linen tightly around his palm and exiting his room.
He couldn't believe he was going to see his family again. After this long, it was strange to see his brothers older and more mature – strange to be going to a new Institute and go on his first mission.
His first mission in the enemy's trenches.
His first mission.
At the New York Institute.
A/N: Really short, I know, I'm sorry.
So, Twenty-Four is about to become a really important character – along with two others. Twenty-Four is one of the three new characters but you won't know which one for quite a while.
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