Bonjour, mon petit choufleurs! Okay, so you should know, some things aren't as they seem. (That doesn't mean you'll be confused. I hope you won't.)
Thanks again from the reviews, damn I LOVE hearing what you guys liked! :D I actually injured myself reading the last lot, because I did an improvised sort of leap/happy dance and skidded on the floor, falling in a heap. (Stupid tights)
Jace should have known that leaving Alec to walk back home alone was a bad idea. He knew it now.
Camille reared back as Jace's blade severed both her heart and spinal cord- through her back as Valentine had taught him- tearing her jaws from Alec's throat and spewing a fetid stew of flesh and blood all over them both. She hadn't been turning him, just draining him. The vampire spat a bloody curse as she died, almost instantly, but Jace didn't hear it, didn't care.
All he cared about was his parabatai, who lay, too still, on the dusty ground. Alec.
It was too late to save him, that was obvious. He was still breathing, but it was shallow and erratic, hoarse through his shredded throat, almost as painful for Jace to hear as it was to do. Alec's dark hair was matted with black strings of gore, like it was the time he had kicked himself in the face, breaking his own nose, when they had practised flips together in the training room. So long ago now. Jace knotted his fingers in that hair; it still felt thick and silky between his calloused fingertips.
Alec looked up, and Jace choked on a sob as those familiar, sky-blue eyes met his own. He opened his mouth, blood trickling from his lips like brackish water.
"Jace…" he said, the pain in his face forcing up stinging tears.
"Alec, please…I'm so sorry." Jace whispered, not knowing whether he was apologising for leaving him in a vulnerable state, or being too late to save him. "My brother. I love you." He sobbed, the pain in his eyes mirroring Alec's. "I never told you enough, but I do."
Sludgy blood leaked from between the dying boy's slashed lips as he coughed pitifully, leaking onto Jace's hands as he traced the smooth ridge of bone under Alec's collar.
"Jace…it hurts so much," he said, and Jace's tears splashed onto Alec's face, mixing with the red liquid there. "Please don't leave me again."
Jace held his pale face with golden hands, shaking his head. He wouldn't leave him. Not again.
"I promise." He choked, seeing a smile tug at the corners of his Alec's lips, only to be replaced with a wince. "Wither thou goest, I will go." Words from their parabatai oath, the oath meant to bind them forever. He didn't want to recall the next line: Where thou diest, I will die. "I love you so much!"
Alec gazed up at his parabatai with a finality that chilled Jace to the bone.
"I will always love you," he said, "But I'll never forgive you."
Jace froze, aghast, as Alec took a long, rattling breath- his last- and closed his eyes. As their parabatai connection broke, he felt like an abseiler whose cord has been cut, and is falling, falling down, down, into nothingness.
Briefly, before blacking out next to the limp lump of meat that used to be Alexander Lightwood, he remembered his father's words. To love is to destroy.
Jace shot up in bed, his body aching and drenched in cold sweat, fighting to wrench his thoughts away from the nightmare. His third that week. Different scenarios, but always Alec, hurt or killed or crying, with nothing Jace could do to help him.
He was sick to tears of it, and the way it affected him.
Usually, after waking up, he'd read until it was time to get up, or he was relaxed enough to sleep again, but tonight was different.
It was as though he had been drained of blood; and instead his veins were pumping round a desperate need to see Alec, make sure he was safe.
The faint blue glow of Jace's witchlight watch told him it was 4.14 AM, far too early to disturb Alec, but for some reason he didn't care. He didn't have to know Jace was there- he would simply walk into his room, check he was breathing, and go back to bed. Easy.
The gentle burn of stele against skin soothed Jace a little as he carved a Soundless rune onto his neck, and crept into the hallway, slightly chilly in his holey pyjamas.
Heavy darkness hung over the Institute's features like a black veil, turning ordinary furniture into odd, humped shapes that glared accusingly from the shadows, whispering in Maryse's voice You should be in bed. Jace brushed all sinister thoughts away the way one brushes pencil shavings off one's clothes; they were totally out of character, taunting him with how deeply the nightmares had shaken him up.
Alec. Alec. Alec. Jace's heart seemed to beat his parabatai's name, he had to see him. He could feel his presence every minute of his life, and yet somehow, now, it wasn't enough.
Alec's door was so familiar.
He knew every detail of it; the flaking white paint, the rusting handle, off of which hung a lonely turquoise bead on a navy string, the remnants of a long-forgotten decoration. Even- or maybe especially- the large dent, spidery cracks unfurling from its epicentre, where Izzy had punched the door in an effort to make Alec open up so she could drag him to Pandemonium against his will.
Jace nudged it gently open with his shoulder, taking care to be quiet so as not to disturb Alec's sleep.
He hadn't counted on him already being awake.
"Jace? Jace, is that you?" a faint whisper escaped from the depths of the dark.
"No, actually, it's Santa Claus. Have you been a good boy this year?" Alec rolled his eyes, not that Jace could see.
"Idiot. Have you come to give me my presents?"
"Alec… don't laugh, but…" Jace didn't know how to express the overwhelming need he'd felt to see him. "I needed to see you. To see if you were…okay."
"I am. I'm fine. You're not though. Our rune woke me up." Jace eyes strained, he could just make Alec out, one slender finger tapping the parabatai rune on his collar bone. "You've been really shaken up about something, what is it?"
"You." He said, eyes fixed on his bare feet. "I had a dream- well, a nightmare really, and I had to see you. I don't know why."
"It's okay, Jace. Everything's fine-" he broke off as Jace slid into bed next to him, and fell asleep almost instantly. Alec was blown away by surprise, and concern for his brother. Especially when he felt the dampness of Jace's tears on the pillow.
A shrill beeping cleaved the silent air in Isabelle's room, yanking her roughly from sleep.
Her phone.
It was a text. She smiled briefly at Simon's name on the screen, despite the message having waken her up.
Hey Iz, hope I didn't wake you up Clary and I are thinking about coming over, is that okay? S. x
Of course! I'll get in the shower. Try not to think about that too much ;) XO
Izzy didn't know why a mundane made her feel so…slushy, but for whatever reason, Simon did. She tried not to think about it, finding that the best solution to the problem.
She would also try not to feel annoyed, later, when Clary and Simon turned up at the Institute together after a night of innocent platonic sleepovers, Simon probably yelling for them to drag a couch into the Sanctuary so they could all hang out.
As much as Izzy hated that idea, it would bring her no comfort to know that she needn't worry, that Camille and the Seelie Queen would intervene, effectively destroying her prediction of the near future. No comfort at all.
Tessa Gray gazed out of the window, weary grey eyes fixed on the New York skyline without really seeing it. The morning was clear, bright, not a cloud to be seen in the vibrant turquoise sky punctuated only by the forest of buildings that rose up from the concrete floor of the city- it was one of those summer days when you can almost taste the sunshine pouring out of heaven, the recent rain forgotten- yet Tessa didn't care for the view. She didn't want to get out into the day, like she would have done decades ago. She didn't wonder how a writer might describe the scent of the morning air, as she would have done decades ago.
Tessa Gray was bored of life.
Bored; of people and their chatter- as if anything mattered to a girl who'd heard it all before, of the weather- why care if it's sunny or raining or snowing if you've seen every type a million times.
She was sick to death of life.
Sick of after all these years, managing to catch a glimpses of men, strangers, with violet-blue eyes or pretty Asian features, ebony-black hair or a delicate grace, and still not knowing which she preferred.
Not to mention the stabbing pain in her chest whenever Brother Zachariah whispered greetings in her mind. Only greetings, never anything more.
Hello, Tessa Gray.
I trust you have been keeping well, Miss Gray.
And the worst of all.
There you are, my Tessa.
She just didn't want to hear any more, which is why she had to die.
Not immediately of course, taking one's own life was such a horrid business, but once she'd set her affairs in order, said goodbye to some of her old friends. She had been civilised in life and wanted to remain so in her manner of departure, and had therefore asked around for a spell that could be of some help, the search for which had led her to New York.
The spell, Tessa learned, could be found in The Book of White, which happened to be the property of an old friend, Magnus Bane. If performed correctly, the years of the warlock in question would be swapped for those of a mortal: making the mortal immortal and the warlock able to grow old.
The problem was, she knew the truth of immortality, all its cruelty. She had to find a mortal human whom she wouldn't feel terrible about giving it to.
So, how did you like it? Don't worry, the end isn't going to be as obvious as it looks right now!
What, you didn't think I'd just kill Alec out of the blue like that, did you?
Do Shadowhunters have witchlight watches? I'd rather like to think that they do.
Love China. xxxxxx