Hey everyone, sorry this is late, but the end of my classes caught up with me. Unfortunately, this week, I will be studying for my finals, so there will not be another update this week; however, I will post something next week. Hope you enjoy it, and I'll be back soon!

Chapter Thirty Four

Jocelyn

She's gone, she's ran off into hell and fire, Jocelyn thought, pressing her hands against the glass on the window and trying to break the command of Valentine. She could feel pressure on her legs and arms, trying to keep her back, and she strained against it. Even when she's free of him, Valentine still has power over Clary.

Jocelyn threw herself away from the window in fury and spun about, looking the room over darkly. Valentine had not only trapped her in the room, but left her nothing to defend herself with. She scoured the room, looking for some seraph blade, some knife, even a razor, but she found nothing. Jocelyn tossed herself down into one of the chairs just as another explosion echoed from the city below.

"Fine way to protect your wife, Valentine, leave her trapped in a house with no way to fight off intruders."

"We're not intruders," came a very shocked, almost annoyed voice. Jocelyn jumped up, her eyes snapping to the door where she saw Simon and Isabelle Lightwood staring back, nonplussed. "I mean, technically, we are, but I figured you, of all people, would be pleased to see us."

"Luke let you go into battle?" Jocelyn demanded.

"Well, he couldn't tell me no," said Simon, wondering why this seemed to upset Jocelyn so much.

"And I'm a shadowhunter," Isabelle added. "I've got every right to be here."

Jocelyn looked between the two of them. "The surprises never end, do they? What have you come here for?"

"Looking for Clary, or Jace, or Alec, or even Valentine," said Simon, then said as an afterthought, "Though, preferably not Valentine."

Jocelyn shook her head listlessly. "You won't find either. Clary, Jace, and Jonathan were here a while ago, but they were heading to find Valentine. I haven't seen Alec at all."

Isabelle bit her lip but Simon glanced at Jocelyn quickly. "Clary was here…with Jonathan? And you let her leave with him?"

Jocelyn lifted her chin. "Well, I couldn't exactly stop them going, as I'm trapped here. Besides, Clary was adamant she had to stay with Jace. She said she didn't want him wandering off alone with Jonathan."

"Why can't you leave?" Simon asked, but Isabelle answered first.

"You're bound here by Valentine, aren't you?"

"That, and an oath I made on the Angel," Jocelyn said bitterly. "As long as he doesn't kill my children I swore to remain here and obey him."

"Yeah, well, my guess is, he's going to be breaking that oath tonight," Isabelle said testily. "If Clary, Jace and Jonathan all went looking for him, I doubt he's just going to let them kill him. Have you tried leaving?"

Jocelyn looked at the window in vain. "I could feel something holding me back every time I tried to break the glass. For a few moments, I thought I could break it, but then my arms and legs failed."

Isabelle considered her a moment. "I know the rune Clary made to free me and Alec from Valentine's will; I'll try it on you and see if it doesn't help."

Freedom at last, a small voice in Jocelyn's mind whispered.

Isabelle came forward and flicked a small stele out while Jocelyn rolled up the sleeve of her robe and revealed a pale arm. Carefully, recalling the exact curves and lines, Isabelle's carved a small rune into Jocelyn's skin, who shuddered suddenly. It was like a heavy weight was lifting off her arms, her shoulders, her head, and her legs. She felt her lungs expand with fresh air and her muscles tighten expectantly.

"Clary made this?"

Isabelle nodded. "I don't know how."

"Well, we can ask her when we find her," said Isabelle with a small, challenging smile.

Clary

The eyes of everyone in the room watched as the sword clattered to the ground, banging and clanging, and glinting in the flickering light. Clary saw, as if in one moment, Valentine, Jonathan, and Jace lunge forward. Jace and Jonathan both knocked into one and other, and Luke managed to snatch Valentine back.

Go, Clary's mind cried, and she shot off, her feet almost slipping in her haste. The moment her fingers closed on the hilt she felt a chill race up her arm, through her spine, and then down her feet. Her knees gave out beneath her, but she managed to keep the Sword in her grasp.

A stream of images raced through her mind. She saw herself as a little girl, chasing after Simon in the park while her mother watched. Then there was Luke reading to her. Drawing pictures. But these images were fading away, and they were replaced by some far more recent, far more dark. She saw Pandemonium the night she'd met Jace and Lightwoods, she saw the throbbing music and the flashing lights, and then Jace. More images, faster, less distinct: Isabelle's smiling face, Alec looking uncertain, Jace, flicking a stele at her. She saw her father, glaring at her, and Jonathan smirking at her. The dark room in the cellar where Valentine locked her, the manor house, her training. All the endless days of training. Clary gasped and fell back, her hands still clamped around the hilt of the Sword.

"So, Clarissa did learn something from me?" Valentine asked, his eyes boring into her.

"Don't move," growled Luke.

"I'm certainly not going to put myself at risk, Lucian," Valentine answered, but his gaze was still on Clary. "My daughter, it seems, has proven herself a Morgenstern, but while she conveniently holds the Sword, I'm in no position to fight."

"I don't think that really matters," Luke said. "Whatever you say."

Valentine's gaze flicked up from Clary and over to Jace and Jonathan, who were panting slightly, and staring at Clary jointly. "I'm in no position to act," Valentine agreed again. "However, I know my sons are."

"And why would either of us help you?" Jace asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Valentine's grey eyes glinted at the tone, but the rest of his face remained passive. "Because you certainly can't think you're going to win this battle. Just because you've cornered me doesn't mean my Clave won't be coming to help."

"Your Clave?" Alec repeated, staring at him. "They don't seem very much like your Clave."

"I have allies," Valentine shrugged. "Even here, even now."

"You're lying," said Clary blankly. "No one is coming to help you."

"Is that what you think?" There was a note of derisiveness in his tone, dismissal in his eyes. "Not that I ever paid much mind to what you thought, Clarissa, but it's nice to know you can."

He's just trying to buy time to think of way out of this, Clary thought, watching Valentine closely. "I don't really care." She lifted the Sword up, and it seemed to shiver in the light, energy coursing through it, but it took all of Clary's strength to keep it up. "It's over, Valentine. You've lost the Sword and you can't summon an army."

"Nothing is over," said Valentine calmly, "until Jonathan says otherwise."

Clary swallowed and her eyes moved irrevocably to Jace and Jonathan, both staring back at Valentine. "Excuse me?" Jace asked. "I'm hardly likely to help you."

"Jonathan," Valentine said, irritated at Jace's interruption. "My son, not you."

"My apologies," Jace said, "since that's all you ever called me my entire life."

"That was a mistake," Valentine agreed, "since, in reality, you have no name. I never named you, you found that name on your own. Though the Angel only knows what your parents would have called you…"

"Shut up," said Clary sharply, sensing Jace's shock. "You're just trying to buy yourself time, confuse him."

"Confuse him?" Valentine asked sharply. "I never led Jace astray."

"You told him we were siblings!" Clary snapped back, and her pulsing anger pushed away from the cold from the Sword. "If that's not misleading-"

"I wasn't misleading him, I was protecting him. Loving you is a mistake, and I was trying to stop him." Valentine eyes turned back to Jace. "I admit, I might have gone about it the wrong way, but I only ever had your best interests at heart."

Even in the very end, even when he was defenseless, Valentine could still manipulate the people around him. Clary felt her teeth grinding together at the way he played with people's emotions. This is his last defense, she realized.

"If anyone has misled him, it's you, Clarissa," said Valentine suddenly. "You thought he was your brother and you still tried to seduce him."

"No, I didn't!" Clary snapped back, and her arm was shaking. Don't let him get the better of you, don't let him confuse you. "You're just saying these things, but you don't know anything about it."

"I would hope not. My daughter, in love with her brother," Valentine said with mild disgust.

"Jonathan is my brother, not Jace," Clary growled.

"The Angel only knows what you've done with him," Valentine returned with a sly smile.

"That's-"

"Shut up." Jace was glaring at Valentine, looking pale but very angry. "You might as well save your breath for your trial."

Valentine again looked at Jace, and her face showed just the smallest surprise at his son disobeying him. When he spoke, his voice had lost its gentle quality. "No son of mine, Jace, no son of mine. Jonathan, however, is, and it is to Jonathan that I now turn."

Jonathan had observed the argument between Jace, Clary, and Valentine with interest, but now that his father had turned his attention to him, he found his polite smile again. "And why would you do that?"

"You've done well, Jonathan, to lead them here. A very nice trap." Valentine nodded, as if very pleased. "Lucian, the warlock, and the Lightwood brat, here to die, and Clarissa and Jace, brought back under my power. Of course, I expected nothing less from you."

Jonathan looked remotely surprised. "I'm glad you think so highly of me."

"You know I do, or I wouldn't have trusted you with such an important job," said Valentine, looking just as confused as Jonathan did.

Jonathan was staring at Valentine now, something working behind his eyes. "Are you trying to frame me?"

"Frame you?" Valentine looked genuinely shocked. "Jonathan, I'm congratulating you. Our plan couldn't have worked better."

Jace

Jace's eyes moved from Valentine to Jonathan, accusation in every line of his body. "Our plan?"

Jonathan was still staring at Valentine. "He's lying, Jace. Why would I help him after he chucked me out?"

"Because then we'd trust you," said Jace, "we'd tell you our plans. Now Valentine knows everything."

"Unfortunate, Jace, but true," said Valentine easily, but Jonathan was glaring at him.

"He's lying," Jonathan repeated, but Jace bit his lip. "He's trying to confuse you, break us up. If we fight amongst each other, we can't fight him."

"Unless he's not actually lying," Jace said casually. "Unless you really are working for him, in which case, we have a problem."

Jonathan finally tore his gaze away from Valentine to look at Jace. "The only problem we have is your insistence on being an idiot."

He lied to us, Jace thought bitterly. Not that it's surprising, since it what he did all along, but I thought he hated Valentine enough for what he'd done.

"If I'm an idiot, it's for trusting you."

"No," said Jonathan, and his voice had a tremor to it, as he jabbed a finger at Valentine "you're an idiot for trusting him!"

Jace opened his mouth then closed it. Jonathan never lied to you, not really. He pretended to be Sebastian, but that was different, that was a plan that Valentine thought of. Aside from that he never lied, he's always been forward with you. Jace's eyes moved back to Valentine, who, though trapped under Luke's watchful gaze, was looking pleased. He's lied to you every step of the way, from the very beginning, when he called you Jonathan, to the day he said you were his son. He's a liar.

Jace swallowed. But so is Jonathan.

"You've always lied to me," Jace said calmly to Valentine, "and I do see why that would change now."

"Because I've got nothing to gain from the lie, Jace," said Valentine. "Either way, I'm relying on Jonathan to free me."

"Which I'm not going to do," said Jonathan loudly.

"It's a clever lie, is all," Valentine said louder.

There's an easy way to know, thought Jace, his mind already reaching out for that dreaded connection. Jonathan's still bound to you, his thoughts still open to you. Reach out and touch them.

A small part of Jace shied away from the idea of opening himself up to Jonathan because he didn't know how it would impact him. Since their binding months ago, Jace had felt waves of emotion, mostly anger or sick pleasure, and he'd pulled as far away as he could. He'd believed Clary when she said that Jonathan was feeding on Jace's love for her, and he was tainting it, poisoning it.

What if, after I open that up, I'm like Jonathan? What if I can't get his thoughts and ideas out of my head? Jace worried. Is there another way?

"Jace," it was Alec, his voice soft and faraway. Jace saw him, staring back at him with tired, startling blue eyes. "We have to act. Who do you trust more?"

There never is. "Right."

Drawing a very deep breath, Jace reached out with his thoughts for Jonathan's mind. It was there, waiting, like Jonathan had known what Jace was planning to do all along. He felt that usual cold, and the anger, and the betrayal, but there was more underneath it. Jonathan, Jace discovered, was incredibly intelligent, and for all his hatred, he grasped the concept of human emotion very well; he could manipulate people easily. Jace shied away from that and tried to reach deeper, searching for his intentions, his thoughts. It didn't seem like Jonathan wanted him there.

You have to let me know, Jace thought, wishing Jonathan understood, but the other boy seemed content to struggle back. I need to see.

He felt another flash of emotion, another inkling of thought, this time directed at Clary. It was, as she had told him so long ago, desire. Jace cringed, promising himself when this was all over, he would have a very long talk with Jonathan about his interest in women. Further he pushed, and further, until he felt something slightly different; it was something more open and more easily accessible, and not nearly so dark.

He tried to understand it, tried to grasp what Jonathan was thinking, and picked up just the slightest sense of trust and validity. It was a curious thing for Jace, to feel, for just a moment, Jonathan's thoughts toward him. He sensed himself as an intruder, but at the same time, welcome. Jonathan trusted him, even felt some understanding for him, and it disturbed Jace when he realized he shortly planned to server that small shred of humanity. I don't have choice there, Jace wanted to say. Alec needs me back, and…I can't be bound to a demon.

Still, that feeling of belonging clung to Jace, unsettling him just a little.

But that open door had allowed Jace into the further reaches of Jonathan's mind, and he found what he was looking for. The truth. It wasn't mess of memories, or words painted across his mind; it was just a feeling, a mutual interest, a shared goal. It brushed over Jace once and then he pulled back, through the darkness and the cold and felt his mind slam back into his own body.

Everyone was still looking at him, waiting for word on Jonathan's alliance, Valentine, most of all. Jace turned to smirk at him, and for the first time, Valentine's face showed it shock and outrage. "You can't trust him," said Valentine, jerked his head at Jonathan. "He's part demon. They lie to survive."

"While you, on the other hand, lie for no reason," Jace said smoothly, before glancing at Clary, "Jonathan's not going to betray us; there is no plan between him and Valentine."

Clary smiled and hefted the Sword. "Then it's over."

"I still have the Clave," Valentine answered.

"Yeah," said Clary, giving Valentine a very searching look, "but I've got the Sword, and I think any rune I make with it might be more powerful than your oaths."

Valentine looked at her and then said simply, "I should have killed you the first time I had the chance. You've proven nothing but a disappointment and I disgrace to the Morgenstern name."

"Seeing how disgraced the name was already, it's hard to imagine," said Clary.

Jace chuckled softly. "Bet that was a mistake, the Angel blood."

Valentine looked furiously between the two boys he had called sons. "Perhaps I made a mistake in my treatment of you."

"Who?" Jonathan asked, smiling without humor. "Jace, or me? Seeing as you tortured us both, it's rather hard to say who should be the most deserving of your apology."

"Not an apology," said Valentine, and his eyes held Jace. "I should have killed you both when I had the chance"

Clary spoke before Jace could. "That's just the first in a list of poor choices you made. Right after dosing my mother with Angel blood when she was pregnant with me. Now, a rune to end this rein of yours."

Isabelle

They weaved easily through the city at first, past many empty streets, or unconscious bodies. Isabelle was thinking solely of her brothers now: where they might be, who they were with, what condition they were in; she didn't have time to waste on crowds or straggling soldiers.

"Which way the Accords Hall?" Simon asked behind her, looking at the city as it opened up before them at the end of the road they were on.

Jocelyn pointed past him to a large building in the city circle where they had been fighting earlier. There were still a number of men and women struggling there. "It's there. Just beyond our rabble."

Isabelle fidgeted with the wait, and she felt her hand stray to a blade. We all know the way, why bother asking, she wanted to snap, but she saw Simon's pale face in the hellish light below, and noticed how misplaced he looked. He suddenly didn't seem like a soldier. "They've been gone too long. We need to move."

Jocelyn flashed her a sympathetic look. "We'll go now then."

Simon looked ready to ask her another question, but Isabelle was already moving and Simon followed closely behind her. The closer they drew to the city circle, the louder the sound of fighting grew, like distant thunder at first, but louder and louder until it burst over them: before them were the remnants of two factions, the shadowhunters, dueling fiercely, and the werewolves relying on their speed and agility to bring them through. Isabelle took a small amount of comfort in not seeing her brother or Magnus, and even more when she spotted Maia still holding her own, though thoroughly tired.

"Come on," said Jocelyn nudging them both in the direction of the Accords Hall. "They're in there."

Isabelle felt herself take a few steps toward the towering structure, but at that moment a howl when up like an alarm and her eyes moved irrevocably back to the fighters. Maia had gone to the aid of one of the other werewolves, but had been injured by a well-aimed blow. Her leg was gushing blood and she couldn't walk.

Alec, a voice whispered, but Isabelle heard herself yell, "Maia!"

"Isabelle, no!" Jocelyn cried, but she had already taken off for Maia, Simon right behind her.

The two moved swiftly down into the brawl and snaked their way toward the shadowhunter and Maia. Maia was leaning against a statue of the Angel, clutching her leg, which was bleeding profusely her counterpart, the shadowhunter, was standing before her, blade raised in victory.

Alec and Jace, the voice said again, but Isabelle gave herself a small shake and lunged forward.

There was a moment when she knew she had hit the other shadowhunter, and that the two of them were slammed to the ground by the force of her fall, but it was pushed from her mind by the sound of the shadowhunter's sword clattering to the ground.

Go fast, she thought, realizing this might be her only opening. One good hit to the back of skull. Unconscious for a few hours.

It had always been that way when she was fighting. Actions and thoughts blurred together as one and before her brain properly process any information, she had already acted. Perfect instincts, thoughtless action, immediate results; everything she had learned since she was a little girl. Before she really realized what had happened, she had lifted the shadowhunter's head and slammed it with just enough force back into the ground. They slumped lifeless.

"Isabelle," Maia panted, and her face was pale already. "I thought you stayed-"

"Good thing I didn't, huh?" she asked, standing up and dusting dirt from her pants. "You need to sit down, your leg."

Maia grimaced and glanced at it. "It'll heal, just give it a bit. It's so deep." She leaned back against the statue behind her and then stumbled to the ground.

"You can't stay here like that," said Isabelle just as Simon arrived. "Simon, help her up. We'll carry her away from this." Simon looked anxiously between Maia and the Accords hall. "Simon, this is important!"

"Your brothers?" he asked, moving toward Maia.

Leave them? They could be in danger. "They're always in danger. My being there isn't going to make it much better at this point. Now, help me move her."

Maia looked between them. "You should go. I'll be fine, I swear-"

"Shut up," Simon said, not unkindly, and pulled her up to her feet while Isabelle tore her shirt and tied it as tight as she could around her leg. "Luke is gonna kill us if we leave you bleeding out." Maia opened her mouth to say more but a spike of pain raced up her leg and she clamped her mouth shut.

"What's going on?" Jocelyn asked, skidding to a halt before them.

"Maia's hurt," grunted Simon. "We've got to get her out here."

"But the others-"

"Will have to wait," finished Isabelle, and when she saw Jocelyn's pinched face, added, "Go if you want, but she'll bleed out if we leave her here."

Jocelyn's eyes moved to the Accords hall and she looked nervous, almost like she was in pain, and they both knew she was trying to decide whether or not to run to her daughter's aid or remain behind. She inched a little closer to the hall, and her hand strayed to a weapon at her hip, and Isabelle thought it must have been awful to try and make up her mind, but at that moment, a strange silence swept over them all, like a blanket falling over their minds.

"Isabelle!" both Simon and Maia called, but she felt her knees give out. She felt someone's hand grasp at her shoulder frantically, and wondered why they were so worried, couldn't they feel the warmth diffusing through their blood.

Sleep. Sleep and wake, and start over.

The last thing Isabelle saw before she collapsed was Jocelyn slumping to the ground, the dagger dropped from her hand. Had she been awake a little longer, like Simon and Maia, she might have noticed that all the shadowhunters were suddenly behaving in the same way: dropping whatever weapons they had and falling, lifeless, to the ground. But she wasn't, and she didn't, and Isabelle knew no more.