Parabatai Lost

"I must insist on my request to portal to Barcelona to ascertain the condition of my parabatai," stated Jace, his voice barely containing his increasing frustration.

He nervously shifted from foot to foot and had to force his hands to remain interlaced on his back in the posture expected of Shadowhunters speaking to a superior. Sleep deprivation and the stress of the last days were hindering his efforts to control his temper and to maintain an emotionless expression. In truth, he was exhausted as well as desperate for news of Alec, and this was exacerbating his tendency to defy authority. He needed to know what was going on with Alec; it was more than a need; it was an imperative.

"That won't be necessary," replied Inquisitor Dearborn at the other end of the videoconference, the nasal quality in his voice contrasting with his commanding tone. "We have things under control here."

The Inquisitor's poker-faced expression, with his mane of red curls and light brown eyes on a thin face covered in freckles, made Jace want to scream. The face looked unnaturally large on the big flat screen, and the man's big ears reminded Jace of parabolic antennas sticking out from under the red curls. He could see each one of the reddish freckles on the inquisitor's nose, and the look of superiority in the man's eyes.

Jace had always distrusted Inquisitors. In his mind, they were all corrupted bigots, who saw themselves as the superior guardians of Nephilim traditions and morals. Some of those morals and traditions were so old-fashioned that they had stopped being relevant a long time ago. It mattered little to Jace at this point that his own grandmother was an Inquisitor; he had not known her for long, after all.

He had been on this call with Inquisitor Dearborn for no more than two minutes, but Jace already deeply distrusted the man. Something about him reminded Jace of a weasel; perhaps it was something in his eyes, a judgemental look that the Inquisitor could not completely conceal despite his expressionless countenance.

Jace had been calling the Barcelona Institute almost every hour for the last twenty-four hours, always with the same request which was met with the same reply: the use of all portals was suspended because of the current terrorist threat. Any instruments or technologies developed by or with the use warlock magic was now considered suspect and a potential threat. The command had been already communicated to Jace in a variety of tones by Marite Acquaclara, acting head of the Barcelona Institute, and by her assistants. The only difference now was that the person stating the prohibition was Inquisitor Josiah Dearborn, who until the Paris, Barcelona and New York attacks two nights ago, was a rather obscured member of the Inquisitor's office. Now, he was apparently in charge of coordinating the team investigating the attacks.

Acquaclara had initially refused to confirm or deny any knowledge of Alec being in Barcelona at the time of the explosions. However, when this morning Jace threatened to fly to Barcelona himself to look for his parabatai, she had finally and grouchily acknowledged that Alec was at the Barcelona Institute and that he was injured, but stable. Apprehension quickly followed the initial relief Jace felt at knowing that his brother was alive. He was deeply concerned about Alec's injuries and about the fact that he was apparently alone in a strange country and among strange and potentially unfriendly Shadowhunters. Tempers were running high among the Nephilim since the explosions and, considering the role the Clave thought Magnus had in the attacks, Jace suspected that Alec would quickly become a person of interest in the investigation.

Jace was in a barely contained state of anxiety; anxiety he felt in every fiber of his being, as it coursed through his system tightening his muscles and leaving what felt like a stone lodged in the pit of his stomach. After the initial agony that woke him up just before the explosions two nights ago, his parabatai rune had pained him intensely for a few hours. The pain had, at times, been almost unbearable and Jace had had to exercise all his self-control to focus on the current emergency. The only consolation was that the pain told him that, while in pain himself, Alec was at least alive somewhere.

But then, twenty-four hours ago, as he was walking towards the infirmary to check on the injured Shadowhunters, the pain had suddenly stopped and he couldn't any longer feel his connection to Alec. It was as if their link had been abruptly severed or blocked. The sensation of being cut off from his parabatai had been so intense that Jace had experienced sudden dizziness and disorientation and had to hold on to the wall to avoid falling.

Jace's initial thought was that Alec was dead, but when he checked the spot above his hip where his rune was located, he saw that it was still there, which meant that Alec was still alive, even if now his connection to Jace was somehow blocked. Since then, Jace had felt the unnerving sensation that he was missing something fundamental, a limb or a critical organ without which he was weaken and not completely himself.

Jace could not remember a time when he didn't feel his connection to Alec. Since he was ten years old and first came to live with the Lightwoods, him and Alec had been inseparable, and Jace had grown accustomed to looking to his side and seeing Alec there, always silently alert and protective, a constant that made Jace feel secured, safe and complete.

Becoming Alec's parabatai had been the most natural of processes because, even before the ceremony, Jace had felt closer to him than to anyone else in his life. Since then, not only had Jace been able to count on Alec's physical presence; Alec had also been a constant source of emotional support and containment for Jace. In fact, it was his connection to Alec that allowed Jace to, at times, take unnecessary risks and give free reign to his rebellious spirit. For Jace knew that Alec would always be by his side not matter what happened. Some people said that Alec lived in Jace's shadow; very few people saw that Alec was, in fact, what anchored Jace, the one person that could get through to him, the one who gave Jace the sense of belonging and connection he never had as a child.

In the last few months, Alec had been happy for the first time in his life, and through his parabatai connection, Jace had experienced the sense of peace and completion that came with that happiness as if it was his own. Through Alec, he had felt what it was like to love someone so completely and unconditionally that social conventions, and differences in history and backgrounds didn't matter. In a way, Alec's bravery and openness to love had allowed Jace to open his own heart, to also allow himself to be vulnerable and open to love Clary. Now, Alec was gone from him, and Jace felt unmoored and adrift, and he needed Alec with an intensity he could barely contain.

"Inquisitor, I must insist…"

"Mr. Herondale," interrupted the Inquisitor in a commending voice, "let me assure you that Alexander Lightwood is safe, and that he is receiving the best medical care possible. There is no need for you to come here. Besides, you have more pressing matters to attend."

For the briefest of moments, Jace shifted his gaze to a point to the side of the screen where Clary was standing, an expression of understanding and support on her exhausted face, her eyes telling him not to lose his patience. "You won't accomplish anything if you lose your composure," she had told him before he made this latest attempt to get to Alec. "You cannot afford being removed as acting head of the Institute."

"Can we at least get an update on his condition?" asked Izzi, coming to stand beside Jace, her shoulder touching his, as if to support him or stop him from throwing a seraph blade at the screen.

"He was knocked unconscious by the explosion, but he is not in any danger," Dearborn repeated in a tone of exasperation he didn't bother to disguise. "I assure you that he is being taken care of. There is no need to concern yourself. Now, Mr. Herondale, what do you have to report?" added the Inquisitor, closing any further discussion on the subject of Alec.

Jace took a deep breath and tried to settle his rising temper. "Two Shadowhunters, Fishblue and Bulltower, died in the explosion; they were on guard by the entrance at the time. We have informed their families and will be planning their funerals in next few days. Six others suffered injuries; one of them is in serious condition but it is expected to pull through. In addition, two badly burned bodies were found near the center of the explosion. We are trying to ascertain their identities but we suspect they were warlocks. Luckily, the explosion was in the middle of the night here when very few mundanes were around, and most Shadowhunters were sleeping."

"Yes, yes, I read that in your report. What I want to know is the state of the Institute and the wards. We must reduce the risk of exposure," interrupted the Inquisitor once again.

The man was infuriating, thought Jace, and his disregard for the human cost of the explosion only increased Jace's distrust.

"The wall by the entrance to the Institute suffered serious damage and all windows and some doors on that side of the building were blown in, but otherwise, the building remains structurally sound. The situation room suffered some equipment damage, but nothing that cannot be repaired. The wards failed and were down for a few hours, but we managed to restore them before daybreak. We are once again glamored, so the risk of exposure is now minimal. We do not know though whether the wards can withstand another explosion."

Jace didn't mention that shortly after the attacks, Catarina Loss, Magnus' friend, had shown up at the institute and aided them in re-establishing the wards and treating the injured. Warlocks had suddenly become enemy number one to the Clave, and no one more so than Magnus Bane, and Jace thought it was better to keep that information under wraps for now.

"Our main concern Inquisitor," added Jace, "is that the explosion released some form of gas into the air that effected mundanes and vampires that were exposed to it. Mundanes who inhaled it seemed to experience apathy, confusion and disorientation. The exposed vampires, on the other hand, became over-excitable, aggressive and their hunting and feeding instincts appear to have gone on overdrive. They seemed unable to stop themselves from hunting and feeding, and the behaviour is putting mundanes at risk. It is a lethal combination: mundanes unable to defend themselves and vampires with no capacity to stop themselves from hunting."

When Jace and his team had gone out to assess the situation a few minutes after the explosion, they had found several mundanes in complete states of confusion, a vacant look in their eyes, and apparently unable to remember what had happened to them, where they were going, and how they had gotten to the park. At first, Jace had thought that the disorientation was a reaction to the shock of the explosion, but something about the expression on their faces told him that something else was going on. It was not until an hour or so later, that they had observed the effect of the gas on vampires. A group of young vamps that usually gathered in the park after dark, had suddenly and without provocation attacked the mundanes, and Jace and his team had had to exercise considerable force to stop them from killing them. Still, at least one mundane had to be taken to hospital with serious blood loss. When they captured them, Jace saw a similar vacant look in the hungry and contorted faces of the vampires.

As the red cloud left by the explosion began to dissipate across the city skies, a few additional incidents broke out requiring Shadowhunters intervention. Jace had to ask for assistance from Luke and his pack in capturing the rogue vampires and as soon they made the link between the gas and the odd behavior, Rafael had ordered his whole clan to remain inside the Hotel Dumort. Fortunately, no vampire had died; at least not yet.

Jace suspected that the gas also affected the werewolves, but the effect was less drastic, perhaps because their exposure was less severe. They did seem more irritable and prompt to violence, and Luke had acted as if he was resisting the impulse to transform; but when Jace asked, he had been evasive in his reply.

"Yes, we have observed similar behaviours in Barcelona and Paris," stated the Inquisitor. "We must do everything in our power to stop any threats to mundanes and any Downworld insubordination. We cannot allow any challenges to our authority; specially not under the current circumstances. Assemble your teams and hunt the rogue vampires, Mr. Herondale. Eliminate on the spot anyone found breaking the Accords."

"But, shouldn't we try to find out whether the reaction is the result of the explosion first? Shouldn't we try to help the vampires affected?" asked Jace. He hated the idea of summary executions, especially if whatever was happening to the vampires was out of their control.

"Under the circumstances, we cannot afford being lenient or remiss on our sacred duty," said the Inquisitor, his voice suggesting that any further questioning would not be tolerated. "Mr. Herondale, until we figure out what is going on, I am naming you acting head of the New York Institute."

Tell me something I don't know, Jace thought but didn't say. He had been acting as the de-facto head of the Institute since the explosion and he felt the official pronouncement was completely unnecessary. In fact, the statement made him even more suspicious for it suggested that Alec would not be returned to them anytime soon. "Yes sir," was all he said.

"You have your orders, and now I must go back to my duties. Do not waste my time with another request for a portal, Mr. Herondale," said the Inquisitor and without waiting for a reply ended the call.

Jace looked at the blank screen for a few seconds, trying to collect his thoughts and resist the impulse to shout insults at it. The call had been a complete waste of his time and he didn't know any more now than he knew before Inquisitor Dearborn appeared on the screen. Though perhaps that was not completely true: he knew that Alec was alive and that he was likely in the hands of the Inquisitor. In some ways, that fact unnerved him as much as not knowing Alec's whereabouts had. He couldn't shake the deep distrust he felt towards Inquisitor Dearborn.

"Well, that was helpful," said Izzy, who was still standing beside Jace, sarcasm evident in her voice. "What do we do now?"

"But we at least know that Alec is alive and is being cared for," Clary tried to reassure them.

Jace forgot sometimes that Clary was new to Shadowhunter politics, which made her overly trusting. She didn't always understand that some Shadowhunters, specially those residing in Idris, were so convinced of their superiority as children of the angel that they felt entitled to decide on the life and death of downworlders and mundanes. Their prejudice even extended to Shadowhunters with close ties to the Downworld because they perceive those relationships as corrupting the Nephilim. Valentine, the man that raised him, had believed that, and Jace knew too well what those beliefs had led to. Alec's relationship with Magnus and the role that Magnus might have played in the attacks put Alec in danger; Jace was sure of that.

There was another reason for concern: the order to summarily execute vampires put the Accords at risk, and threatened a war with the Downworld. Despite the alliances forged in the war against Valentine, distrust and prejudice against the Downworld remained rampant among members of the Clave and many might even welcome a war.

Still, Jace smiled at Clary, because her statement was meant to comfort and reassure him; it was an expression of love and Jace didn't want her to feel that it had gone to waste.

"Izzy, we need to speak to Rafael to find out what is going on with his clan and whether he knows anything about who may be behind the attacks," Jace said turning to his sister and assuming the tone of authority that he thought was expected of a leader during a crisis. "We need to find a way to stop whatever is making the vampires rabid before more mundanes are attacked and we are left with no other choice but to hunt them down."

"I will go see him right now," said Izzi, stepping away from Jace and taking on the posture of the subordinate, no longer the caring sister, but the soldier, a soldier that trusted her leader to made the right decision. Jace was more thankful for Izzy's trust than he could express with words; for, through her example, she told the rest of the Shadowhunters in the Institute that Jace's authority and leadership was unquestionable even if only until Alec came back.

Jace felt completely inadequate to fill Alec's shoes. His brother was a natural leader, thoughtful, caring and commanding, and he never made people feel that they were being ordered around. Jace always seemed to rub people the wrong way, and his decisions were often hasty and impulsive. Several times during this crisis, Jace had found himself thinking what Alec would do, which had not only made him think twice before issuing an order, but had also made him miss Alec even more.

"Good, I am going to go talk to Catarina Loss; see if I can gather more information about who may be involved in the attacks. Clary, I need you to stay here and supervise emergency repairs and the reinforcement of security. Can you also assign someone to search the historical records for any information about the warlock whose image was projected besides Magnus after the explosions? There must be some record of her."

He then signaled Izzy and Clary to follow him as he walked out of the room. He stopped in the hallway and after making sure no one else was listening, spoke to them in a voice that was almost a whisper. "We need to find a safe and hopefully hidden spot in the institute where we can open an emergency portal just in case we need to go get Alec. I am hoping Catarina will agree to help us with that. I do not trust the Inquisitor and I am not about to leave Alec in his hands. There is no way the Clave is going to simply release him, especially considering his relationship to Magnus. We cannot underestimate the bigotry and homophobia of some of our people. I hope I am wrong, but I think Alec may be in danger and he will need our help."

Izzy nodded in agreement and put an arm around Jace's shoulders, and Jace appreciated the gesture because, despite her own anxiety and preoccupation for her brother, she still had the capacity to sympathize with Jace.

"We will help him; we will not leave him alone" said Clary reaching for Jace's hand and giving it a loving squeeze. For a moment, the three of them were linked as if they were a human chain; a chain that at this moment was missing some important pieces but that remained strong. The contact made Jace feel anchored once again, if only momentarily.

"You don't believe that Magnus had anything to do with the attacks, do you?" asked Izzy, the anxiety back in her voice. "I mean he loves Alec and I cannot believe that he would do something like that."

"At this point I don't know what to believe, so I am not discounting anything until we know more," replied Jace. He loved his sister deeply and wished he could reassure her. Izzy, who carried herself as if nothing bothered her or made her uncertain, was deep down a caring, loving and trusting person, someone whose loyalty people were lucky to gain. She had given her loyalty to Magnus if only for the fact that he had chosen to love Alec. Jace hoped that by the end of whatever this latest crisis was, Izzy would not be disappointed. "We need more information," he repeated looking at the two most important women in his life. "We cannot go into whatever this is without knowing more."

A few minutes later, as Jace was leaving the Institute, he turned to look back at the destruction caused by the explosion. Mundanes strolled along the park in front of the building completely oblivious to the scene of destruction now hidden behind think layers of glamour. The Institute's front wall was almost completely gone, an enormous hole where the front door used to be, and through the hole, what remained of the entryway and one of the situation rooms was visible, like the bowels of a ship, cables hanging from the ceiling and pieces of technology strewn around. The heavy smell of sulfur and other demonic energies permeated the air and had been harder to cover up. As a result, a sign had been placed by a hole on the ground advising passersby that work was being carried out in the sewage system. Near the epicenter of the explosion, a red stain marked the place on the ground where the two badly burned bodies of the warlocks had been found. The stain maintained an intense red glow, as if ambers were still burning under the pavement, and the smell of sulfur was even stronger there.

They had not found any indications of a bomb or any explosive device in the area or on the bodies. Izzy was still examining the remains, but she suspected that the explosion had been the result of magic so intense that it had burned the warlocks responsible for conjuring it up. The incidents had all the markers of a suicide mission, which puzzled Jace even more. It is true that relationships between warlocks and the Nephilim were strained at times, but he would have never suspected that they would engage in such acts of violence.

Not for the first time, Jace thought that they had been extremely lucky that the explosion took place in the middle of the night. Deaths and injuries would have been considerably more extensive if the explosion had happened during the day, as it did in Barcelona and Paris where the number of victims was still unclear. The source of the explosion would have also been harder to disguise from the mundane world. As is, the dozen or so mundanes who were in the park when the explosion happened were the only ones to see when the wards fell and the Institute became suddenly visible, and the gas had such an effect of them that it is unlikely that they cared or even remembered. Still, Jace could not shake the feeling that the attacks were just the beginning and that something even bigger was about to happen.

If only Alec was here, thought Jace as he walked in the direction of Catarina's apartment. If only he was here to help him understand the clues, and put together the few pieces of this puzzle that were visible. If only Alec was here to tell him that everything would be alright, to stand by him, to have his back as he always did. Alec's absence felt like a hole in the center of Jace's chest, a hole as big as the one the explosion had left in the Institute's wall, and like the Institute, Jace felt his entrails were exposed.

Jace didn't know that at that precise moment, Alec was regaining consciousness thousands of kilometers and an ocean away, a similar feeling of disorientation at realizing that he could no longer feel his parabatai. The feeling of being severed from something critical to his survival was so overwhelming that it almost matched the emptiness and loss that had taken permanent residence in his chest.