Chapter Fifteen

Clary

Escape seemed almost impossible at that point, and though she had no doubt Jace could handle a ragtag assortment of shadowhunter children, Clary wasn't all too certain he wanted to.

This is entirely my fault, Clary thought bitterly as she glanced back and forth on the approaching shadowhunters. It's because I'm Valentine's daughter. I should just let them deal with me and let Jace go.

"Jace, just go," Clary whispered, watching him tense as they drew nearer. "Just leave me here, they won't kill me; I'll get back on my own."

Jace turned a look of such bland disgust that she felt foolish. "I am not leaving you here to be beaten by some wannabe street gang. Don't say things like that, Clary; just stay behind me and run when I tell you."

"But, Jace-"

"No, Clary," he said flatly, and his hands curled into fists, ready for a scuffle.

As much as she wanted Jace to go, a part of Clary was glad he had refused so swiftly. She didn't particularly enjoy entertaining the idea of a Jace who would leave her, and she definitely didn't like the idea of being assaulted on the street because of her association to Valentine. Carefully, she surveyed her attackers; they didn't look they quite knew what they had gotten into with Jace because they were still coming closer and closer, looking smug and victorious. The girl who had thrown the rock spoke again.

"You're not really going to fight us?" she said, a little of her confusing coloring her voice. "I mean, you're not even armed."

Keep telling yourself that, thought Clary, who had seen Jace do much more with much less.

The children from the other side of the bridge were close to within striking distance, and, Clary noticed, they looked least ready for a fight. One of them, a younger looking boy, glanced uncomfortably around before returning his focus to Clary. Jace must have seen the boy too, because he angled himself ever so slightly in his direction.

"You're a bit thick, you know that?" said one of the boys. "And you know what? You're-"

But what Jace and Clary were, they never found out. At that moment, Jace leapt into action, and Clary had seen him fight too many times before to be really surprised by how quickly he moved. The other children, however, were in shock, and as Jace's first blow landed squarely in one of their jaws, a wave of fear swept through them. Clary saw, from the corner of her eye, the rock girl begin to aim a good blow at her, but Jace intercepted swiftly, knocked her aside, and swung Clary around, using the inertia of her body to move himself into the boy who had looked nervous.

"Run!" Jace ordered, shoving Clary through the small opening the poor boy's vacant body had created.

Clary vaulted over his body and broke into a run, whipping past building after building along the river's edge. She glanced back and saw Jace was right on her heels, but behind him was the small crowd of angry shadowhunters. Clary pushed herself faster, knowing Jace was probably even then berating her for being so slow, but a small twinge was starting in her legs.

"Where are we going?" Clary cried, both her legs smarting now.

"Back to the house!" Jace ordered, now running alongside Clary. "They're not stupid enough to try and knock the door down."

Clary worried, though. Just what I'm sure Valentine wants, to come home to a crowd of furious teenagers. Of course, he'll blame me. Jace caught her eyes and they turned sharply down a side street, their pursuers scrambling to do the same. By the Angel, I hope they don't follow us. Valentine will hurt them if he finds them…

Being able to maneuver the streets better than a crowd of people, they were putting distance between themselves and the others. Jace smirked a little. "Hardly a problem at all," he laughed, and Clary knew, that despite the fact he was being chased by his own people, he loved the thrill and excitement it brought. "We really should go out more often, Clary!"

"You really are insane," Clary laughed, her feet pounding harder and harder as her legs stung more and more. "I'm starting to feel a bit of sympathy for Alec, having to chase you all over like this!"

Jace chuckled as they came out of the side street, onto the main road that led straight to the center of the city and the Accords Hall. "Almost there, Clary!" Jace cried, but Clary gave a sudden yelp of pain and surprise, and her legs gave out beneath her. She crashed to the ground, rolling once, head over heels, and skidding to a halt.

At once, pain shot up her spine, igniting old wounds, and when she tried to get up, her arms shivered and collapsed beneath her. "Jace!" she cried as he stumbled to a halt, spinning about to go after her.

Jace landed at her side just as the other children approached the main road. He cursed under his breath before scooping Clary up, but holding her, he couldn't fight, and running now would be almost impossible. "Can you stand?" he asked urgently.

Clary was gasping, her back convulsing with tremors. "N-no," she said between gritted teeth. "It hurts, my back hurts, and I think my ankle is twisted."

Jace cursed again as their attackers slowed down, approaching them carefully now. The boy Jace had pummeled to free them wasn't among the crowd, and Clary suspected he had run to hide-or worse, get more help. The girl Jace had hit was there, though, and she was looking mutinous. When she saw Clary, held delicately in Jace's arm, her smile broke wider.

"Uh-oh, we are in trouble, aren't we?" she asked with a playful giggle. "I was hoping to give you a beating myself, but I guess the ground took care of that for me. Oh, well, I'm more than happy to give seconds."

If you think you're worse than my father, you've got another thing coming-

"You know if you do this," said Jace reasonably, "Valentine will hunt you down. He doesn't like it when people hurt his family."

"That's a lie, and you know it," spat a boy. "Everyone knows Miss Morgenstern over here was fighting against him in the war. And so were you, for that matter. I don't think he gives a damn."

Jace frowned. "He might not give a damn about us as people, but he does when it comes to things that are his. Trust me, he'll hunt you down just to prove a point, let alone the humiliation you'll be giving him. I don't think you want Valentine Morgenstern on your tail."

Jace's words seemed to have some effect on them, because a few drew back slightly, but the girl spoke again. "I'll risk it. It's too bad, really, that you're not up to a real fight, Lightwood, because I heard you were the best…."

"Some things I guess aren't worth it," Jace growled, but Clary knew he was dying to put her down just to prove he could fight.

"Put me down," Clary whispered, but Jace shook his head. "Jace, you can't defend yourself if you're holding me. Put me-"

"What do you think you're doing?" asked a cool, disinterested voice.

Clary jerked when she heard it, and she heard Jace's sharp intake of breath, but the others just looked around, confused. Like a shot, Clary's eyes found her brother, standing in the shadows of a building, watching them with his dark, keen eyes. When the others saw him, he smiled honey-slow and Clary felt her heart skip a beat. The others must have known who he was, but clearly didn't realize just how dangerous he could be, because they hadn't run.

"Who are you?" someone asked indignantly.

Jonathan chuckled to himself, but his gaze moved over to Jace holding Clary, and he looked strangely unsettled. "Tight spot?"

"What are you doing here?" Jace asked, keeping his voice level. It wouldn't do any good to have Jonathan angry with them too; even if they could escape the children, he had free rein at their home.

"It's quite…annoying," began Jonathan, prowling out from the shadows, completely ignoring the other children who were gawking at him, "to be sitting in the Conclave, listening to important discussions of the state, when, all of a sudden, a small…tapping, if you will, starts in the back of your mind. It's quite distracting, but at first, it's soft; after a few minutes, however, it's louder, more insistent. More demanding."

Clary's eyes moved to Jace, who was looking oddly blank. What's he talking about?

"Then, out of the blue, I can feel my heart beating faster, I'm excited, I'm tense, I'm just thrilled by it all. But why?"

"I wouldn't know," said Jace blandly.

"It took me almost five minutes to realize it was you, Jace, who was doing this to me." Jonathan's eyes narrowed, but he didn't look angry. Just puzzled. "I was, again, feeling your emotions, except this time, they were a bit more urgent." Jonathan glanced around him, taking in the assortment and angry faces and bruises. "I can see why."

"We're parabatai," said Jace after a long moment. "You're meant to feel it."

"And, yet, I can't say I enjoy it," Jonathan mused.

"Well," said Jace, and he shifted his weight, ready to place Clary down. She knew as well as Jace that if it came to it, he and Jonathan would have to fight. There was no out-running him. "What do you plan to do about it?"

Again, Jonathan stared about him, his dark eyes flicking over the other children and making them squirm He rotated on the spot, taking in every inch of their surroundings, enjoying the feeling of having everyone wait on him. "Put my sister down," he cast over his shoulder to Jace, now facing the crowd of pursuers.

"I don't think-"

"I give you my word on the Angel," Jonathan sighed, "that I won't harm a curly hair on her head for the duration of this fight."

Hard to miss the phrasing, thought Clary bitterly as Jace set her gingerly down, helping her to sit. "Just stay put, alright?" Jace asked quickly. "I don't know what Jonathan has in mind, but he hasn't gone for our throats yet." Clary merely nodded, watching Jonathan.

"Right," Jace said darkly. "What are you going to do?"

"Do?" Jonathan asked, now turning to face Jace and looking mildly surprised. "I'm going to prove to Alexander Lightwood that I am the better parabatai. You and I are going to fight- together-against these annoying pests who caused you enough unease to draw me from my meeting."

Clary felt her mouth hanging open. "What?" she rasped.

"Surprised, little sister?" Jonathan asked, smirking. "Don't think too much of. I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for me."

Jace

He's lying, was Jace's first thought, as Jonathan smiled sharp as a razor at him. He's just trying to get my guard down so he can-so he can… But what reason Jonathan might have had for wanting to get Jace's guard down, he couldn't guess, and before his eyes, Jonathan launched himself into very ferocious action.

Behind him, Clary gasped. "Jace." He turned to look at her, wondering if she was as confused as he was. "Is it a trick?"

"No clue," said Jace softly, but, when he heard a terrified yelp from one of the children, he turned to join them. Though Jace had no intention of letting any of them go without some form of retribution, he suspected Jonathan might kill one of them given his nature.

Fighting alongside Jonathan, Jace hated to admit, felt almost good. He tried to convince himself it was just that he actually had an opportunity to finally fight, but Jace couldn't deny that as he joined the fray, it was the reassuring presence of another person, someone he knew would protect him, that brought him the most pleasure. It had been so long since he'd felt that connection with Alec, that Jace suspected he had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted, but as he spun about just in time to see Jonathan slam into a potential attacker, he felt a small sense of smugness that he was fighting alongside someone as well trained and dangerous as he was.

That's sick, thought Jace after a moment. Alec's your brother, your friend, your real parabatai; Jonathan is a murderer and a traitor. He tried to kiss Clary, don't forget that. But Jace couldn't, and when he tried to picture himself just up and leaving Jonathan to fight the others, his stomach started to hurt, like he was sick. He couldn't abandon parabatai, even if Jonathan could abandon him.

The scuffle ended quickly, with most the children running off before Jonathan could get to them. The few that had been unfortunate enough to come within Jonathan or Jace's grasp were worse for wear. Spinning about with a feeling of accomplishment, Jace said, "You're not too bad with just your hands-" but his words were cut short as Jonathan drove his balled up fist into Jace's side, effectively snapping a rib.

"That's for dragging me out of my meeting for something as trivial as this." Jace doubled over and Jonathan slammed the point of his elbow into his back. "Next time you decide to get yourself in over your head, do it when I'm in a different country."

Jace crumpled to his knees, clutching his broken rib. Damn it, that's two now, he thought as he heard the scampering of feet and hands, and Clary scrambled to his side.

"Are you alright?" Clary gasped, watching Jace's back rise and fall.

"I'm fine, Clary," he breathed, thoroughly embarrassed by his lack of preparedness. "I should have known Jonathan wasn't just doing this to help."

"I believe I told you," drawled Jonathan, "that I was doing this for me. Now, get up on your feet; I'm taking you back to the house. Valentine can deal with you two."

Clary moved to helped Jace up, but she was still trembling, and her legs didn't want to support her, let alone her and Jace. "Are you really going to make me do this?" asked Jonathan with disdain. When Jace shot him a very angry look, Jonathan just rolled his eyes and then scooped a struggling Clary up. "Stop it."

"Put-put me down!" Clary ordered.

"Jace, make your girlfriend shut up, or I'll do it for her," Jonathan warned Jace.

"Clary, I can't carry you," Jace said, levering himself up and clutching his sides. "Just let Jonathan get you back to the house. He won't hurt you."

Clary's eyes met Jace's with a silent plead, but Jace looked helpless. "Yes, Clary," said Jonathan, laughing. "I won't hurt you."

Jonathan shifted Clary's weight and then took off, Jace limping a bit behind him. As Jace followed Jonathan, he was wondering what would be happening that evening. Certainly, Jonathan was going to tell Valentine, and he would be furious. What worried Jace most was considering who Valentine was going to blame. Valentine would probably say that Clary had provoked the children, but that Jace should have stopped her. Jace hoped Valentine would say it was his fault, but he privately felt that Valentine would take any opportunity to punish Clary.

And you can't count on Jonathan for anything. That much was clear now. It seemed that Jonathan did, indeed, share in the parabatai bond, and that he could catch fleeting emotions of Jace's, and that he responded accordingly. But it seemed his responses were tainted with his demonic nature. He sensed Jace's desire for Clary, but felt it as his own, perverting it so he was in love with her. He had also sensed Jace's excitement and fear in his fight, and come to help him, but had also taken out some of his rage on Jace after. He is connected to you, but the connection is poisoned.

It made Jace miss Alec more than anything else so far.

When they reached the house, Jonathan threw open the door and strode into the sitting room where he deposited Clary on the couch. She looked up at him, waiting for his anger to come, but he just stared at her, as if trying to discern what she was. Jace came up behind him, looking a little more than furious, but still managing to keep his temper in check.

"You're to wait here until Valentine returns from the Conclave, at which time, I will be informing him of your litter incident." Jonathan's eyes sparkled as he saw Clary's face pale. "If I were you two, I would think of a good story."

Jace caught Jonathan's arm as he turned to leave. "Tell Valentine it was me," said Jace urgently. "Tell him I started the whole thing."

"Why would I do that?" Jonathan asked.

"Because I'm your parabatai and I'm asking you to," Jace answered shrewdly. "Because it was my fault that you were dragged out of the Conclave, not Clary's. And because you and I both know you'd rather watch me get hurt than Clary."

Jonathan looked contemplative, considering his options before speaking again. "You know he'll be furious, and you know any other hopes you had of going out unaccompanied will be crushed."

"I'm aware of that," Jace said through gritted teeth.

"You're also aware that Valentine might decide to take out his anger on the Lightwoods?"

Clary head jerked up at that, but Jace shot her a warning look. "I know what Valentine might do. I also grew up with him."

"I hope he kills Alec," said Jonathan with a grin, and then shrugged. "I'll tell him it was your fault."

"Jace-"

"Don't, Clary," said Jace, and he slouched over to her. He took her face in his hands and saw, quite clearly, the poorly hidden bruises from Valentine, and then glanced down. Clary was still shaking, probably some effect of her imprisonment and starvation in the cellar. She deserves so much better than this. "Don't say a thing to Valentine, do you understand? What happened was all my fault; if I had been paying attention, I could have avoided the whole confrontation, Jonathan would never have had to come, and we wouldn't be here now."

"It's not fair," Clary whispered, and she pushed herself closer to Jace. "It wasn't anyone's fault but Valentine's."

"Life isn't fair," Jace murmured into her hair, and breathed in a stray leaf. He chuckled. "You should go upstairs and clean yourself off, change into a different dress or something too. You know how Valentine gets."

Clary frowned. "Yes, I know how he gets," she said darkly, and then wobbled up to her feet. Jace wasted no time in helping her balance, and was going to escort her up the stairs when the sound of the front door slamming opening told him it was too late.

Shit, Jace thought as Valentine rounded the corner and caught sight of them. His eyes roved over Jace, looking a little battered and Clary, who was a mess, and then to Jonathan who had just joined them. Slowly, Valentine raised on eyebrow. Shit.

Isabelle

"Higher, Alec, higher," ordered Emma, her eyes narrowed on Alec's shaking leg. "Hold it."

Isabelle watched her brother's leg shivering with the exertion of holding in one place, high above the floor, and felt a pang of sympathy for him. Still, he needed to get his strength back, and he needed it fast. Earlier that week, Malachi had stuck his head in Alec's room to tell him that he had a week, and they were going to take him back to the school to see if he was good enough to place in any of their classes. Isabelle knew that if Alec couldn't place into a class, Malachi was going to remove him from his house.

Come on, Alec, come on, she urged silently. As if he'd heard her, Alec's leg stopped shaking, though a bead of sweat trickled down his face. She smiled, satisfied. Good.

Alec had been getting stronger as he'd trained with Emma. Isabelle personally thought that he had just needed a little structure, someone there to tell him to go; since he'd lost Jace, it probably felt like he was floating around in a sea of emotions and loss. Emma was certainly a demanding woman and a strict instructor; she had whipped Alec back into shape in days. Now, he was back to his old self, with a slight tremor in his step.

"You're doing wonderful," said Isabelle helpfully, rising and joining Alec at the bar as he dropped his leg. "Three more days like this and you'll be ready for training again. You remember how to throw a dagger, don't you?"

Alec shot her a withering look. "Do you think I would have forgotten?"

"Just asking," said Isabelle raising her hands. "Listen, I'm going to go shower and get ready for dinner. Malachi was going on about something stupid and important to him, and I think he wants me there on time."

Alec chuckled under his breath. "You're pushing him."

"I'm a pusher," said Isabelle with a provocative smile.

She passed down the hall and back to her room, and began running a shower for herself. Carefully, she peeled off the leotard and tights and undid her hair from its tight bun; her reflection in the mirror stared back at her.

You're not looking too springy, are you? Isabelle asked the mirror Isabelle. You could use some more food, a haircut, and some sleep.

It was true, all of it. Since her arrival at Malachi's home, Isabelle had been losing weight drastically. She hated eating with Malachi, and hated more that she was fed while Alec had to scrape by on left-overs, so she had started eating less and less, and taking some to her brother. That, and Isabelle had lost much of her appetite since losing her parents and brother, sometimes she felt like she could go days without food, like her body was empty and wanted to stay that way. Sometimes, when she ate, she even felt ill. The blue and purple shadows under her eyes were common place, now, and she didn't bother to try and hide them. She spent so much of the night worrying over Alec and their plan to reunite with Clary and Jace, that she barely got enough sleep to function, and when she did sleep, she had nightmares. Often times, she would see Max, and she'd wake in tears, but more recently, she had seen a strange figure, dark haired, and cloaked in darkness. It had taken her a while to recognize Simon, and she dreaded those dreams as much as looked forward to them. She missed Simon so much.

"I'll have Myra cut my hair," she said decidedly, as if that would fix everything wrong in her life. "She likes taking care of me."

With those words, Isabelle slipped into the show and washed the sweat off her body. The air made her shiver when she stepped out of the tub, and she draped a robe around her quickly, toweling off her hair. It hung in limp strands around her face, making her look corpse like.

"Ugh, you look like a hag," said a voice behind her. Isabelle whipped about and found Archer standing in the doorway, smirking. "Like a great big witch!"

"Archer!" Isabelle cried, but she was smiling. "Shouldn't you be cleaning something?"

"Mother sent me to tell you something," he said, rocketing out of her reach as Isabelle made a dive for him. He jumped easily and landed on her bed, standing and crossing his arms. "Said to tell you to dress nice."

"I always dress nice," said Isabelle prowling forward, her eyes narrowed on Archer, who looked pleased with their game.

"Well, nicer-er," Archer clarified, and then dodged as Isabelle pounced. He hit the floor and scampered to the door. "No one likes a hag," he called as he took off down the hall, laughing.

Isabelle watched him go, smiling a bit to herself. Since her loss of Max, she been feeling guilty and empty, but Archer, so sweet and innocent, was some small help. He brought her a little happiness. She returned to her bedroom, throwing open the wardrobe ad selecting a very sensual looking wine-red number. Dress nice, huh? she thought, as she slipped into it and caught sight on herself in the mirror. She looked amazing, if she had to say so herself. As her hair dried, Isabelle fixed her make-up and found shoes. Quickly, she pinned the hair up into something acceptable, and then headed for dinner.

As always, dinner was held in the formal dining room, which seem a bit much to Isabelle for only two people, and, as always, she and Malachi sat next to each other. As she entered, Malachi stood in greeting, and held out her chair. Isabelle flopped down in it, loudly as she could, and slouched over the table.

"Tired?" Malachi asked airily, pretending not to notice Isabelle's posture.

"Yes, these days are so long, you know," Isabelle said, smirking. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with all the cleaning."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Malachi said and Myra arrived with their meal. Malachi waited while she served them and left before he spoke again. "I've been meaning to speak with you about some of the chores I've given you around the manor."

Not like I care, Isabelle was dying to say, but she only nodded her head sharply. "And what is it?"

"I think, perhaps, it is time we discussed your position in this household, both current and future," he said as he took a bite of the chicken they were eating. "I feel as if I've been giving you free rein, and I really wanted you to know that it can't stay that way forever."

Isabelle's eyes widened. "Well, if you'd like my brother and I to leave-"

"I have no intention of removing you from my home," said Malachi evenly. "No, I actually want to make your stay rather permanent."

Permanent…? Isabelle wondered, her eyes narrowing. "Well," she said, tossing her head back. "Not that this home isn't beautiful, but you should know that as soon as Alec turns twenty-one he's leaving, and I'm going with him."

"I beg to differ, my dear," he said sweetly, but his eyes had a steely glint to them. "I've been speaking with Valentine."

"I don't care what that man says," said Isabelle flatly.

"But you care what he does?" pressed Malachi, and was glad to see he had Isabelle's attention. "I have it on good word that a particular vampire and warlock are being held captive right now, and it would be a shame if something were to happen to them, no?"

"What have you done to Simon?" Isabelle snarled, jumping to her feet. "If you touch one hair-"

"I haven't done a thing," Malachi said, waving her off. "But I certainly could, and wouldn't that just be horrible?"

Isabelle's teeth were bared in a silent snarl, and she was shaking, but her mouth formed words all the same. "What do you want?"

Again, Malachi's eyes moved up and down her, as he had since the first time they'd met him. "I'd very much like to keep you here."

"I can't just live here forever," said Isabelle, a small inkling of what he meant unfurling in her chest, but she crushed it down. "It'll be a bit strange, don't you think?"

"Not if you stay here, not as my ward, but as my wife."

Simon

"You have company," said a gruff voice and the door holding Simon and Magnus was thrown open and a man pushed in. Simon jerked to his feet, but his head felt light and he fell back into his seat, his vision spinning. At his side, Magnus rose easily and held out his hand, a small fire sprouting to life.

"L-Luke?" Simon rasped as the green light of Magnus's fire glanced off the man's face.

"Simon?" Luke said, squinting. His eyes looked very wolfish at the moment and Simon wondered almost at once how werewolf blood tasted and if he could bring himself to drink it. "And Magnus? What are you doing here?"

"We could ask you the same," said Magnus. "I'm surprised you're alive, to be honest. Didn't Valentine kill you for, you know, your whole affair with his wife."

"Jocelyn and I didn't have an affair," Luke snapped.

"Okay, then, the imaginary affair you could have had had you had the nerve to tell her the truth," Magnus responded just as sharply.

"Valentine let me live," Luke said angrily, "because he wanted to use me to make Jocelyn trust him. He has Clary."

"That's not surprising," said Magnus, when Simon looked up, horrified at the idea.

"What's he done to her?" Simon said weakly, his head spinning. "Has he-has he hurt her?"

Luke surveyed Simon with sympathy. "I don't doubt he has, but has he killed her? No, no he's just using Clary to control Jocelyn."

Simon snarled, and his fangs descended. "If he touches a hair on her head-"

"I'm sure he already has," Magnus murmured darkly.

Simon looked furious, but Luke sighed and collapsed on a bench on the wall. "Don't, Simon. Magnus is probably right, though, I hate admitting it. I heard he's got Jace, too, so I guess that good, but I don't know how much good the boy can do in the face of Valentine and Jonathan."

Simon breathed out heavily. He didn't necessarily like Jace, but as long as he was with Clary, she was a little better off. "Have you heard about the Lightwoods?"

"Just whispers here and there, but nothing certain." Luke saw that his words had an effect on both Simon and Magnus. "I'm sure they're not dead; they're too valuable to Valentine to kill, but I don't think they're enjoying themselves."

"Why are you here?" Magnus asked before he let himself think too much on Alec.

Now, Luke bared his fangs, his eyes turning bright gold, reflecting pale light. "Valentine is planning something, something with all of them, the Lightwoods, Clary, Jocelyn, and Jace. That's why he's brought us all together, because he's going to use us for something." Simon slumped over, and Luke made to help him but he jumped away.

"Don't!" he snarled, looking terrified. "I-I haven't fed in weeks. If you get to close, I might-I might attack you."

Luke whined in sympathy. "You need blood, Simon," Luke warned.

"I know," Simon sighed, and slumped again, breathing heavily.

Magnus drew near to Luke and sat down beside him. Softly, so that Simon wouldn't hear, Magnus said, "Do you think Valentine put us all together just so he could starve Simon and let him loose on us?"