I want to thank aimmyarrowshigh for helping this chapter along in its ugly early stages and amaggiepie and sunshiiine23 for continuing their invaluable beta work. This story would be crap without your guys.

Warnings: Mature themes including perceived incest, explicit sexual content, and strong language. Immature themes including excessive dash usage and copious amounts of unapologetic relationship angst. Proceed with caution.

Context: This story is set after a City of Glass in which Clary and Jace do NOT figure out that they aren't really brother and sister. They never got the Book of the White to Magnus, so Jocelyn is still comatose. (This ignores City of Fallen Angels entirely.)

Keep the Next Breath

PART EIGHT

Clary runs the tips of her fingers over every line until she can feel them in her skin.

Daemon (alt. Daimon) – An incorporeal being that requires a host to survive in the physical world. A daemon may take temporary possession of an inanimate object but requires a sentient being to act as a permanent host. The first recorded daemon possession occurred c. 420 BC, when a mundane by the name of Socrates was bonded to a daemon of wisdom. The effects of a daemon on the human host vary. Each daemon is imbued with the essence of a virtue or vice, which is then transmitted to the person it bonded with (i.e. wisdom, valor, love, lust, greed, wrath). There are no confirmed instances of a permanent daemonic bond ever being broken. Daemons are rare; there have been only five verified cases within the last century…

The text confirms what Magnus had said: that the light that left the gargoyle and struck Alec was actually a daemon entering his body and binding itself to his soul. That after that moment, he had more love inside of him than ever before. That when he opened his eyes and saw Clary, the daemon had fixated to her, chosen her to receive it all. And that the daemon was now as much a part of Alec as his bones or his soul. Inseparable.

After Magnus had his revelation, he asked to speak with Alec alone. No one objected to his request, not even Alec. Clary wanted to say something to him before leaving, but he still refused to look at her, and she really couldn't think of anything to say given the bizarre circumstances. Instead, she followed Isabelle out the door and fought the temptation to turn around, even when a prickling at the back of her neck told her she was being watched.

It's nearing one in the morning, and Alec still hasn't returned to the Institute. Clary hopes it means he and Magnus were able to come to some understanding and that they're working on finding a way to fix what happened. She tries not to dwell on what it will mean if they can't break the bond and Alec's trapped with these feelings for the rest of his life. It's not fair. It's not fair that he can't love who he wants to and that she's somehow become responsible for another person's unhappiness.

Alec loving her for the next few days is one thing. But loving her forever is another situation entirely. She can hardly wrap her mind around the implications.

But there's something she can do. She can try to get to the bottom of what's going on in the city. The only demonic activity over last couple of months has been the attack of the daemon and the appearance of Hayden's doppelganger. There's little doubt that the two incidents are connected in some way—all that's left is to figure out who's pulling the strings and what it is they want.

Clary looks at Jace's long body stretched motionlessly across the bed. He fell asleep less than an hour ago but hasn't stirred once. The revelation of Alec's new feelings hadn't gone over well with him, and he was broodingly silent during the trip back from Magnus's apartment. When they arrived at the Institute, he and Clary had holed up in the library and researched for an hour; he emerged even more disgruntled than before when they didn't find any encouraging information. Clary tried talking to him about it but he was too stubborn—too Jace—to respond to any of her rationalizing.

It will be better in the morning, she knows, after he's slept and had time to think logically about it. Then again, he probably won't be too happy with her in the morning when he finds out she did exactly what he asked her not to do.

With one more glance at his relaxed face, Clary slips from the room into the dark hallway. Her backpack is waiting against the wall by the door, and she grabs it, checking to make sure she has everything. Gear. Socks. Boots. Seraph blade. Dagger.

Shadowhunter gear is designed for freedom of movement and protection from physical assaults. It isn't made to keep out the cold. When Clary steps out of the Institute, the wind whips at her exposed skin like a lash of ice. She shivers but then fingers the hilt of the blade on her belt and feels a little warmer. The gentle burning of the Marks she's just applied linger against her skin.

As she descends the steps, she notices a shadow moving away from the wall. She tenses for only a moment before recognizing Simon's white face catching the moonlight.

"What are you—"

"I know you." He shrugs. "I know that you meant it when you said the best idea was for you to draw out the baddies by exposing yourself. And here you are. Exposing yourself."

Clary pauses on the last step, wary that he might attempt to physically restrain her. "Then you also know that you can't talk me out of it," she says.

"I know you're prone to bouts of craziness and that the results tend to be less devastating when I'm around."

Clary eyes him doubtfully. He's changed clothes since she saw him at Magnus's place. He's wearing dark clothes and dark coat that give him a very Blade look—albeit paler and scrawnier. "So you're not here to stop me?"

"If I were, I would be using my 'intimidation face.'"

"You don't have an 'intimidation face.'"

"So the answer to your question would be: 'I'm here to help you not die.'" Simon starts walking down the street, and Clary reluctantly follows after him.

"I appreciate that," she says and means it. "But I should probably do this myself. You might scare them off."

"I thought we agreed that I don't do intimidation?"

Clary's eyes go to the black Mark of Cain just barely visible through Simon's shaggy bangs. It hasn't been put to the test yet, but that's probably because no one's been willing to bet their life.

"Would you prefer for me to follow you by skulking in the shadows?" Simon asks earnestly as they cross a deserted intersection. "I'll do it if you promise not to tell Jace. He still thinks I'm part rat, you know."

"Since when do you care what Jace thinks about you?"

"I don't care what he thinks of me. It's just common sense not to give a book of matches to a pyromaniac."

Clary purses her lips. "He's not that bad. I don't understand why you two have to give each other such a hard time."

"You're nervous. You get moody when you're nervous." Simon looks at her sideways. "So where are we going?"

Clary hesitates before answering. She didn't really have a plan beyond walking around in the open and waiting for someone—or something—to show up. But if there was going to be a confrontation, it would be better if there weren't a lot of people around. "Central Park."

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

The darkness is almost oppressive as they enter the park, as if all the city lights have been warded off at its paved boundaries. It's a trick of her mind, she knows. A pinch of her nerves. Clary's more on edge than before, despite Simon's efforts to make light-hearted conversation about school, his band, and Eric's recent foray into fantasy fiction writing. She listens to him with half an ear but focuses on the trees, searching for anything that could be hidden in the swaying shadows. They follow the road a little ways before turning off into the trees and coming to the large clearing ringed with softball fields. There is no one in sight and no sound but the shivering of dead leaves as they are stripped from their branches by the strong wind.

But there's something moving amongst them.

"…and naturally I was the inspiration for his main character. Except that Fictional Me is five inches taller and has red eyes that—"

Clary cuts Simon off with a firm grip on his arm. He follows her gaze to the dark shadows crouched low in the grass and circling their way towards them. Yellow, slotted eyes glimmer in the faint light.

"What are they?" Simon whispers.

They're close enough now that she can see their snout-like faces and the rows of razor-like quills down their backs. Clary slowly reaches for her seraph blade. "Bryne demons. The needles are poison-tipped."

"This is where a well thought-out plan would have come in handy."

Without further warning, the Bryne demons abandon their attempt at concealment, springing forward in a full-on charge. Clary barely has the time to note that there are three of them before they launch themselves into the air with a loud whine that rings in her ears. She and Simon dive to either side to avoid their outstretched claws. A moment later she's rolled onto her feet and with a muttered word has her seraph blade humming in her hand.

Two of the demons stare her down, hissing incomprehensible threats.

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

Jace swears into his pillow at the sound of someone pounding persistently on his door. . He sighs and turns to see if it has woken Clary as well, but her side of the bed empty. She was there when he fell asleep. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes as he scans the room. There's no sign of her. The bed is cold on her side, but judging by the darkness of sky and the exhaustion in his body, she hasn't been gone long.

The knocking is persistent. Alec's voice calls out to him. "Jace? Jace, are you up?"

Jace grumbles another curse, but gets to his feet and manages to open the door before Alec can knock it down. "What time is it?"

Alec glances impatiently at his watch. "Just after two. Listen—"

Jace moves to close the door. Alec wedges his foot in next to the frame.

"Clary," he says. "Is she with you?"

Jace's fingers clench around the doorknob. He looks for the accusation in his parabatai's face, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. Years of practiced apathy are the only thing that allows Jace to respond indifferently. "No. Why would she be?"

But Alec is already withdrawing back into the hallway. "She's gone."

The ground seems to tip beneath his feet, and Jace has to catch himself against the door. "What do you mean?" He wants to turn back into his room, check beneath the bed and in the shower. But he already knows he won't find her there.

"She's not in her room, or the training room, or the greenhouse, or the kitchen, and Church"—Alec points to the cat lying as a listless ball of fur at his feet—"brought me here, so I hoped maybe…"

Jace rakes a hand through his hair. "Dammit. I told her going out on her own wasn't worth it. I told her that we would deal with this as a group."

Alec digs through his pocket and pulls out a cell phone. "And you thought she would listen?" He hits a couple of buttons and holds it to his ear.

Jace should have made her promise to stay put. He should have stayed up until he was sure she was asleep. This is exactly what he should have expected from her.

Jace impatiently waits for Alec to give up trying to call her. As soon as he hears the call click over to voicemail, he tells Alec to go get supplies from the weapons room. "I'll get something to track her with and meet you outside."

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

Clary has one end of her seraph blade through the sternum of a Bryne demon when Simon cries out.

She jerks her hand back, sending ichor splashing across her chest, the demon folding into nothingness at her feet. She whips around in the direction of Simon's voice and is caught completely off guard when something heavy hits her square in the chest. The impact with the ground kicks the air from her lungs. She gasps and isn't able to get her arm up quickly enough to stop a clawed foot from raking the side of her face.

Clary ignores the painful sting and blood welling beneath her eye as she rolls sideways to trap the demon underneath her. It whines and thrashes, but she's able to get a firm hold on the dagger at her hip. With a twist of her hand, she plunges the short blade into the demon's exposed side. She withdraws it only to drive it back in. After two more stabs the demon disappears, leaving Clary lying on the grass, surrounded by silence.

"Simon?"

"I'm here."

He's standing over her and offers a hand to help her up. She lets him pull her to her feet.

"Are you hurt?" Her eyes travel over him, but he looks as immaculate as he did before the attack.

Simon shakes his head in wonder. "No. Not at all."

"But I heard you—"

"Clary, run!"

Clary turns and follows Simon's gaze. More Bryne demons are creeping forward from the cover of the trees. Clary can make out at least a five pairs of glowing eyes converging on them. She's just about to take Simon's advice and make a run for it when Simon begins to walk toward the advancing demons.

"Simon!"

"They can't hurt me. Just go."

"Of course they can hurt you!" Clary grabs at Simon's coat sleeve. "Come on! There's too many of them."

He shakes her off. "I'm telling you, they can't hurt me. I think it's the Mark—"

One of the demons runs forward, but just as it's about to collide with Simon, it falls backward as if it ran into an invisible wall. Clary watches, dumbfounded, as the demon suddenly splits into two—right down the middle of its body—and then explodes in a cloud of black ichor. There isn't even enough of it left to return to its home dimension.

Simon looks wide-eyed at Clary. "I think I've got this."

She stares back at him, speechless.

"Clary. Go."

This time she doesn't hesitate. She turns on her heel and sprints back down the path that winds away from the clearing through the trees. Behind her, the frenzied hissing of the demons is punctuated by an awful ripping sound, and she knows that another one has met its fate. The first demon's miserable death plays over again in her mind as she races past a couple of teenagers who can't see her.

Did Simon really do that?

She doesn't stop running until all sounds from the clearing have fallen away and the only sound she hears is that of her feet pounding on the pavement. She stops, turning to gaze in the direction of the clearing, and waits. Her face is throbbing in time with the rapid pulsing of her heart. Blood has begun running from her cheek to her neck.

Her chest hurts, and she looks down to see that the front of her gear is shredded where the demon had been trapped against her. She should use her stele, but her fingers are numb.

"Hello, Clary."

He's standing in the grass to her side, just off the path. He looks exactly as he did that morning in the bookstore and yet nothing like the boy she saw in a coffin. She wonders now how she could have ever mistaken them for the same person. "Who are you?"

"Right now?" He lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers with the mechanical stiffness of a marionette. "I'm Hayden."

"You're not." She shakes her head vehemently. "Are you a demon?"

His lips curl in a mocking grin she never saw Hayden use. "You're still wondering after all the time we've spent together?"

"Then what are you?"

"A Downworlder. A warlock skilled enough to show up your friend, the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I was right there under his nose, and he didn't even notice."

Clary grits her teeth and stays put even though every instinct is telling her to drive her seraph blade through his heart. "What do you want?"

He laughs and kicks at the grass. "Nothing. I have what I want."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I owe someone. He gave me something very valuable, and in return I'm helping him out."

"Who?"

"I bet you already know. You saw him yourself, after all." He tilts his head, still smiling. "Or was that just some fairy dust in your eye?"

Clary feels the night's cold rush into her all at once. She recalls Magnus's party and the glimpse of a face she would never forget. "Sebastian."

The warlock snaps his fingers. "Yes. That's it. Sebastian. Just Sebastian. No last name. Interesting guy."

"He's a murderer." She thinks of Max and the dozens of others who died that night in Alicante after Sebastian set the demons loose on the city.

"We're all killers in one way or another." The warlock shrugs his—Hayden's—shoulders. "Just be glad he doesn't want you dead. Yet."

"What does Sebastian want?"

"Suffering. Revenge." He takes a step forward, and Clary holds her ground. "But at the moment? He wants you to come with me."

She scoffs and grips her seraph blade tighter. "Right. I'm not stupid."

"No. Just desperate." His unnatural grin finally melts away into blank apathy. "I have a deal for you."

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

The train is practically empty, and Alec and Jace have the car to themselves. Jace has never resented relying on mundane transportation more than he does at this moment, knowing that Clary could be in danger while they're slowing down to approach a stop that isn't even theirs. If he still had that enchanted motorcycle, he wouldn't be wasting time like this.

"Stop that."

Jace glares at Alec, who's looking pointedly at the seraph blade Jace was absently knocking against one of the floor-to-ceiling poles. "No, I don't think I will. Your irritation is the only thing keeping me entertained."

Alec sighs.

"Why were you looking for Clary?"

"What?"

"Why were you in Clary's room in the middle of the night?" Jace does stop the tapping then. Across the narrow aisle, Alec looks wary. "What was so important it couldn't wait until morning?"

"I wanted to explain the rest of what Magnus told me after you left."

"You think you're in love with Clary because you're possessed by a daemon. We get rid of the daemon, and you go back to liking men that sparkle. What more is there?"

"It's not that simple."

Jace looks away. The first thing he did after getting back to the Institute was look up whatever information he could find on daemons. He knows how rare daemons are and that successfully removing one from a person is unheard of. "We'll find a way."

"Magnus left."

Jace looks back at Alec in surprise. "New York?"

Alec nods and looks somewhat regretful. "He wanted to talk to some people who might know more about it. In Kenya somewhere."

"Are you two…"

"We've decided to take a break until we figure this out. Staying together wouldn't be fair to him."

Jace is silent. A man enters the car but can't see either of them through their glamours. He settles in a couple seats down from Alec, and the train starts back up again. The tracking rune on Jace's right hand lets him know they're getting closer. "And that's what you wanted to tell Clary?" he says.

"I owe her an explanation."

"You love her."

Jace unconsciously holds his breath as he waits for the denial he didn't get earlier that day. He needs to know that Alec doesn't want this, doesn't want Clary.

"It's all just confusing right now," Alec hedges. "I think talking to her about it would help."

"And what if you do something you regret when you're back to normal?" Jace shakes his head. "I won't let you hurt her like that. She's my sister—"

"And I'm your brother," says Alec, looking hurt. "You know me, Jace. We're parabatai."

Jace wonders if Luke ever said that to Valentine. He wonders if Valentine ever looked at his parabatai and saw what Jace is seeing now. Someone who's better.

"I told you I would never let anything happen to her," Alec continues. "I meant it."

"That's not your job," says Jace, suddenly very eager to get off the train and out into the open air. He feels like he's suffocating.

A couple minutes later, the train slows to a stop and Jace hurries to the car door. As he waits impatiently for it to open, Alec appears at his side. "It's not a job," he says.

[ - ] [ - ] [ - ]

"So do we have a deal?"

Clary bites the inside of her cheek, her mind and heart racing as she considers his words. "How do I know you'll actually do it? That you even have the—"

The warlock reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small, white, leather-bound book no bigger than the paperback novels that line the front shelves at Luke's store. It looks completely ordinary, save for the gilded letters that Clary is able to make out despite the darkness of the park. She recognizes the Latin words for 'white' and 'book,' and as she reads the title, she feels something akin to recognition. She has never seen the Book of the White, but looking at it now, she feels she could never mistake it for something else. The power it contains is almost palpable. Somewhere inside of it is the spell that will wake her mother.

Hope warms her frozen fingers, and Clary subconsciously takes a half-step toward. It's so close.

As if he can sense her eagerness, the warlock taps his fingers against the spine and then returns it to his jacket. Clary meets his knowing eyes.

"Of course, you'll want some way of knowing that I'll keep up my end of the bargain." This time he turns over his left hand and parts his fist to reveal a dark, smooth stone the size of a chicken's egg, with the same oblong shape.

"What is it?"

"A Warlock Promise." He tosses the stone in the air and catches it without looking. "I swear an oath on this, and it will hold me to my word. Just ask the High Warlock of Brooklyn," he adds at Clary's doubtful look. "But, of course, I need to know that we have a deal first."

Clary hesitates, but she can't ignore how close she is to the Book of the White and her mother's cure. After months of sitting around, waiting for some clue to the book's location, it's finally right in front of her. She won't get this sort of chance again.

"Alright. I agree. I'll do it. As long you promise to wake up my mother."

He smirks as if she'd just taken the bait to a trap, and in her heart, Clary knows that she probably has. But she doesn't back out. She can't.

"Good." He wraps his fingers around the stone, and it begins to pulse with bright, blue light. "I swear by the Mother's blood which ran through the veins of my father to uphold my end of the deal, so long as you fulfill yours."

The light pulses once and then recedes until it is nothing but a faint glimmer inside the stone.

"Done." He tosses it to Clary with a casual flick of his wrist, and she nearly drops her seraph blade in order to catch it. "And it seems that our time is up."

She follows his gaze over her shoulder to see three figures in black coming around the bend in the path. Jace, she thinks nervously.

"A week from tonight," the warlock tells her. "At the place where the vampires go to die."

"You don't want me to swear by the Angel that I'll do it?"

The warlock contorts Hayden's face into an unfamiliar expression of amused condescension. "I know you'll be there."

A moment later, he's vanished from sight.

"Clary!"

She turns just as Jace reaches her, coming to a sudden stop less than a foot away. His eyes rove over her body, looking for any signs of injury. She can tell that he's holding back, that if they were alone, he would have pulled her into his arms and embraced her until his fears of never holding her again were banished. But they're not alone, so instead he stares at her helplessly as Simon and Alec finally catch up to them.

"Are you alright?" Simon asks.

Clary nods. "I'm fine."

"You're hurt." Jace reaches out to trail his fingers along her cheek, and the tips come away stained with red.

Clary winces. "I'm fine."

Jace takes a step closer and pulls aside the collar of her gear. He raises his stele and gently draws its tip across the exposed skin. Clary can feel the familiar curves of an irtaze.

Simon turns in a slow circle, taking in their surroundings. "He's gone. And so are those demons."

With the rune complete, Jace moves back from Clary, but not before secretly brushing his thumb across her collarbone. "It's a good thing you're here, Simon, to make such keen observations."

"Who was it?" Alec asks, and Clary's eyes fall on him for the first time since his arrival. There's a half-second when she doesn't understand the worried look he's giving her before she remembers the daemon and Alec's confession about his feelings for her.

Clary's face heats, and she shifts awkwardly under his scrutiny. "It was the person who killed Hayden. A warlock. He's the one who's been impersonating him."

Jace looks at her wide-eyed. "A warlock? That kind of magic doesn't exist."

"It does in the Book of the White. And he has it."

Jace lets out a quiet string of curses, while Alec looks troubled. "How did he manage to get his hands on that? Magnus has been looking everywhere for it."

"Wait." Simon holds up a hand. "The Book of the White…isn't that what you need to wake up your mom?"

Clary nods while watching Jace, who quickly schools his face into a mask of indifference. "He said he would do the spell to wake her up."

"Out of the goodness of his heart, I'm sure," Simon mutters.

"He's working for someone." Clary hesitates. "It's Sebastian. He's the one responsible for all the strange demon activity, and he's the one who gave the book to the warlock."

Jace doesn't miss a beat. "That's impossible. Sebastian is dead. I put a dagger in his back myself."

"But they never found a body." Alec looks away, his high cheek bones colored an angry red. Clary knows he must be thinking about Max. "He could have survived. Why would this warlock make up something like that?"

"He did survive," Clary says adamantly, and this time Jace doesn't argue. "And he wants to meet with me. Alone."

Simon's eyebrows shoot up. "With you? Why? I mean, don't get me wrong. You're a good kisser and everything, but he doesn't strike me as the type of guy who would go through all of this just to get a girl. Unless demon manipulation and warlock blackmail is his idea of foreplay. In which case…gross."

"It's not blackmail. It's a trade. I meet Sebastian, and the warlock uses the Book of the White to wake up my mom. He even gave me this." Clary shows them the stone, a dim light still visible just below the crystal-like surface.

Alec leans in closer to get a better look. Clary can feel the heat of him against her shoulder. "A Warlock Promise. I've never seen one in person." He reaches out to take the stone but hesitates when his fingers are a hair's breadth from her hand. He clears his throat. "May I?"

Clary nods and drops it in his palm.

"You know you can't actually go see Sebastian alone, right?" Jace says as Alec examines the stone.

"I know." The iratze is working well enough that the pain from the cut on her cheek has been reduced to a dull throb. She can still feel the dried blood caked on her face. "But now we know where the book will be on Monday night. He said to meet him at 'the place where vampires go to die.'"

Simon frowns. "The sun?"

Jace shakes his head. "It's a place down by the docks. Not far from where you destroyed Valentine's ship. There's a building there designed to allow vampires to watch from safety as one of their own is left out to burn with the dawn. It's how head vampires keep their covens in order and punish those who stray from the laws laid down by the Accords. With enough Shadowhunters, it should be an easy enough location to secure."

Alec passes the Promise back to Clary. "The warlock. Did he give you a name?"

"No. And he was still using Hayden's body, so I can't tell you what he looks like either."

"The stone matches the descriptions I've read, but Warlock Promises aren't common anymore. It might not be legitimate. I would suggest asking Magnus, but…"

"He left town," Jace finishes.

"What?" Simon gapes at her. "Why?"

But Alec's not looking at Simon. He's looking at Clary with wary blue eyes like twin lost souls. It feels like days since she had sat across from him in Taki's and listed to his doubts about Magnus. It's hard to believe that just that morning he had said those words to her. I think I might have feelings for someone else…How do you tell the difference? How do you know when it's the right way?

How had she not known right then? How did she not even suspect? It seems painfully obvious now.

Alec looks away and clears his throat. "He has to look into a few things."

"We should head back," Jace says after a moment of heavy silence. Clary can't read his expression, but the adrenaline from her encounter with the Bryne demon and the warlock is dwindling. She's tired, cold, and the wounded part of her face is starting to go numb from the iratze. She's in no condition to decipher his mood, and he won't tell her anything until they're alone anyway.

Clary sighs. "You're right. Let's go."

AN: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had final exams in December, and I've spent January getting ready for my move to the UK (my flight is on Tuesday!). Thank you for all of the fabulous feedback on the last chapter. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it and the outtakes I posted. I'll have to do more of those. :)

I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out. Hopefully it will be soon-ish, but I'm writing a couple of other shorter fics, so we'll see.