Giovanni lunged first, and then all hell broke loose. Seraph blades whistled through the air every way you turned, some striking home in the smoky bodies of the demons, others narrowly missing.

Jane landed a lucky blow and her attacker fell to the concrete floor. She made a break for it, narrowly dodging an errant Iblis' swinging limb by tumbling and sliding to a stop by the top of the staircase. A fleeting look behind her at the action, she barely caught Korsak's eye before she slipped down the steps, his shocked outcry of, "No! Jane!" eaten up by the clash of the battle.

She moved softly, thanking God for every wooden stair which didn't creak as she placed her weight on it.

But then she heard it: the quiet whimper of a soul being tortured and all rational thought fled from her mind. She sprinted down the rest of the stairs, heading desperately toward the voice.

Next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the ground, sharp prickles of pain radiating from the base of her skull. Automatically, she reached up to the source of the hurt, but her hands were immobilised, rope rubbing against her wrists. She tried to speak, but there was something in her mouth, gagging her.

The sounds of battle were still streaming down from above, but it was as though she was in a bubble, the clangs from clashing blades were distorted and echoing in her ears.

"So glad you're awake, Jane dear." The sinister quality to the words made her skin crawl and she fought to open her eyes.

"Now, while my Iblis demons are disposing of your family, we can enjoy a little play time, if you will." It was dark and her vision swam in front of her, but the sharp angles to his face screamed psychotic while the mischievous sparkle in his eyes promised obscene amounts of pain.

"Not very talkative for a Shadowhunter, are you? Well, that's alright. I think I'll have you absolutely begging for mercy before too long." He chuckled and Jane felt her blood turn icy. "I try not to kill any of my subjects with the weapons of their own kind, but I think it's only poetic justice for you to die by the blade of a mortal human being, don't you?"

The smallest glint reflected off the knife he held as he ran it along her neck. "It's called a scalpel. The doctors use them in the hospitals to help save people, but I've found they're also quite useful at dispatching people from this life."

The smile dropped from his face as he brought his fist down over Jane's open hand, pushing the cutting tip through all the nerves and muscles of her palm. She shrieked in pain, the sound only slightly muffled by the gag, completely turning herself over to the excruciation.

"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it, Janie?" He smirked. "I can call you Janie, can't I? I've learned so much about you these past weeks. After all, you have to know your enemy and I knew it was only a matter of time until you Shadowhunters found me." He leaned towards her, pressing his nose against her hair as she squirmed, and inhaled deeply. "And oh, how glad I am that you came down here first, all by yourself. You have no idea how long I've hoped for this, for the chance to break you."

He picked up another scalpel from the tray at his side. "You're looking a bit unsymmetrical, Janie, would you like me to fix that for you?" She shook her head violently, wishing desperately that the rag was gone so she could call for help. "It's not a problem. I don't mind," he assured her, and then his hand vanished from her sight once more and she howled in pain.

"That sound is pure music to my ears, Janie, I thank you." He leaned back, reaching again for his tray. "And now, I think our time has come to an end. You can hear them, the steady increase to the footsteps. They're making their way through my demons, though I must say, they certainly have taken their time, haven't they? I thought you were supposed to be these great warriors." He laughed. "Not that I'm complaining, I do so enjoy these extra minutes with you." He sobered, taking in her sweaty, frightened appearance.

He held another scalpel aloft, pointing it at her face about a foot above her heart. "I do so love the smell of lavender," he sighed. "And fear."

His hand dropped and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see her murderer any longer.

But the searing pain in her chest never came and when she opened her eyes, Korsak was there, tossing a bloody seraph blade to the side and dropping down to his knees beside her. His face was haunted as he bent over her, removing her gag and untying her hands.

She tried to speak, but she couldn't find the words and besides that, what could she say. She couldn't even look him in the eye as he lifted her into his arms and carried her like a child.

She closed her eyes and the world fell silent.

CHAPTER THREE

The voices drifted to her, like they traversed oceans and mountain ranges just to find her ears.

"I'm glad you knew better than to remove the scalpels."

"Doc, we're fighters. We know it's better to leave the weapons in to stem the bleeding."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Frankie, she'll be fine. Physically, at least, with time."

"Does she need another iratze? Parabatai runes are the most powerful, perhaps I should-"

"She's okay for the moment, Frost."

"Why isn't she waking up?"

"When a person goes through a trauma, sometimes they stay unconscious for a long while, so that their minds can repair themselves enough to rejoin the living completely."

"Did you get him?"

"Angela-"

"Did you get him?!"

"He's downstairs. Tessa and Jem are watching him. He's completely useless in the rig they set up for him. He can't use any of his powers."

"I want him dead."

"I know you do, but the Clave-"

"I want him dead now."

"We can't."

"I want him to suffer."

"That, perhaps we can do."

None of this made any sense, she thought, as she floated away on a cloud.

She slept for two days. Angela, Frankie, and Frost all refused to leave her bedside. They lived off of takeout and Campbell's soup. Maura was often in there with them, but the melancholic aspect of the entire affair depressed her and when she cried she preferred to be alone.

She'd always preferred to be alone. Until Jane came along, injured and unconscious, just as she was now. Except last time she'd woken after only a small window of time and taken her back to their home with them.

It was the first time she'd felt like she'd had a friend. And now that one friend had almost died and it shook her to her core.

She tried to soothe herself by making food one night, but burst into tears when she lost track of time and burned the water for the pasta she'd wanted to make.

The four of them were at Jane's bedside in the infirmary when Sean walked in and announced, "He's being moved tomorrow night."

Everyone was shocked when the next words fell from the half-asleep lips of the one lying in bed. "Who?"

A bewildered pause. "Hoyt, Jane, he's being taken to Idris tomorrow to be punished for what he's done."

"Good," she murmured, eyes flickering open. "I hope he burns in hell." And then she fell back asleep just as Angela jumped from her chair to check her over.

"Oh thank God," she cried as she sat on the edge of her daughter's bed. "Thank God."

Maura was quite sure God didn't personally have anything to do with Jane's surprising fleeting return to the world of the conscious, but she knew how worried mothers were: desperate.

If Maura had been religious, no doubt she too would be sharing in Angela's sentiment. As it was, she thanked Dr. George E. Goodfellow, the first civilian doctor in the United States of America to be a trauma surgeon.

She left them to their relieved celebrations and retired to her room. She picked up the book from the table, one Tessa had handed her the night Jane came back injured.

"I was once an outsider like yourself to this world. When I was first introduced, Will showed me this book and told me that if I really wanted to learn about it, if I wanted to stay with the Shadowhunters and make this Institute my home, that this book would tell me everything I wished to know and so much more." She smiled as she ran her fingers over the aged cover. "He was right." She placed the book on the table and left just as quietly as she'd arrived.

She sat on her bed and read. She was there all night, flipping page after page, absorbing all of the information the Shadowhunters Codex had to offer. The knock on her door was not the only thing to surprise her into pausing. At some point, the night had turned to day while she'd been reading and she hadn't noticed.

Frankie peered inside. "Hey," he said softly. "Jane's awake, and asking for you."

Her heart leapt in her chest.

"She knows you're the one who helped fix her up, her hands I mean, and she wants to talk to you about it."

The joy in her chest dropped only the slightest amount. Sure, Jane wanted to see her, but only for her medical expertise. But, she reminded herself and brightened considerably, she did ask for you. Small victories… small victories.

Everyone was crowded around the bed when she got there, and automatically she reached to smooth her hair. She wished she'd gone to bed, the darkened of her nasojugal fold was sure to give away her sleepless night, and her eyes were probably bloodshot.

"Maura," Jane breathed her name as she entered. She looked around at her family. "Can you guys give us a moment, please?" she asked, and after the group at large traded questioning looks, they bustled out, Angela declaring that she must make Jane's favourite, chicken cacciatore for dinner to celebrate.

Jane flushed slightly and instead of gesturing to one of the many chairs around her bed, patted the blanket beside her.