Chapter 39 – Memories of a Time Long Gone

"I still don't think that's a good idea," I growled through clenched teeth. Anger, fear and excitement boiled in my blood; a dangerous mix. I was struggling to keep my voice under control.

"We both agreed to come here," Jace replied, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible, unlike me.

The nature of Idris spread out in all directions before our eyes. We had left Alicante early in the morning by order of the Inquisitor. Out here, far from Nephilim civilization, the snow had not shied away from the sun. The perpetual white covered valleys and hills, forests and fields, even one or the other lake was still sealed by a thin layer of ice. The trampled path the Shadowhunter escort was moving south ahead of us was all that could be seen beside the snow. At the moment we were riding on a rise, so I had a view of the further course of the path. When the ice melted and Alicante farmers drove back out to work their fields, the trail would turn into a wide road, hidden beneath the winter weather. We were not moving on any of the main trade routes connecting the city with the surrounding villages. We hiked off the beaten path, on a path that was only used to transport goods in good weather.

A snort escaped my throat and the horse below me swerved in confusion. I rubbed its back soothingly as I tightened the reins. The animal had sensed my anxiety ever since I had mounted it in the Lightwoods' stable. I hadn't bothered to remember its name. "I had no choice, as usual."

The Inquisitor had tasked us with locating my father's estate and checking the surrounding area for any trace of his whereabouts. At least that was the assignment Aaron Wrayburn, the mission's commander, had received from her. My presence was desired simply because it was my family's property and I had lived there for the past eighteen years. Since I was the last person in my bloodline not to be dead or charged with treason, the estate and all other Morgenstern lands technically belonged to me now. I wasn't proud or happy about it. I loathed the thought.

Every fiber of my body begged me to clear off and return to Alicante immediately. With every step the horse took, the panic of what I would find in my old home spread further through my veins. Did they leave me a message? Had they burned the entire property to the ground like my father had burned the house of the Fairchilds, my grandparents'? All I knew was that this place would bring up memories I'd been trying to bury deep in my memory since Jonathan's transformation.

"I know," Jace said, and sighed to himself. He had the hood of his coat pulled low over his face and, like me, was staring straight ahead most of the time. His grandmother had sent him along to keep an eye on me; as usual. At least he wasn't thrilled about it any more than I was.

Together we brought up the rear of the escort and rode at the end of the line of ten horses, all of whom broke into a trot now that we had finally reached the woods at the foot of the rise. The property was in the back half of the trees, so there were only a few miles to go and both the animals and we were exhausted from the journey, which had taken us almost a full day's walk. Though we were still a long way from the borders of Idris, the estate was in a part of the country away from the mansions of the other Shadowhunter families. The odds of encountering a wolf here were higher than encountering a Nephilim. But that was also partly due to the wards of Valentine, which we had passed about half an hour ago. Now that we knew where we were going, overcoming the spell hadn't been a problem.

"But look at it this way, you can get some of your stuff," Jace added after several minutes of silence. During the entire ride we had hardly spoken to each other. My frustration at being here and having to face my emotions had stopped him after a few attempts at conversation. To be honest, I had to admit that I was surprised how after one day of this friendship story he hadn't yet fallen back into his old pattern and ignored me. Nevertheless, I could not read him and his true motives out of him. Jace was difficult to read. Sometimes when he put on his mask of emotionlessness, like now, it bordered on the impossible and even my father's guidance didn't get me anywhere.

"I don't care for my stuff," I murmured, more to myself than to Jace.

He turned his head in my direction with a raised brow. He pulled his hood off his head in one easy motion and let the sun turn his blond hair to liquid gold. "You've lived your life here and don't want to take anything with you?"

Would you return to the place where your life began to fall apart just to retrieve an item that reminds you of a time lost forever? I didn't say the words out loud. I didn't want to reveal those emotions to him. And yet I couldn't shake the feeling that he could read it in my eyes even as the thought crossed my mind. All I did was purse my lips, tearing myself away from his gaze and refocusing my eyes on the forest in front of us. My father had taught me to fight, to survive, but he hadn't taught me how to have healthy, honest relationships with other people. I felt Jace's eyes on me and knew he saw the wall Valentine had built around me.

"Eventually this will all be over." Jace's voice sounded strangely alien, aged by years, an experience in his tone that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "You shouldn't have to regret later that you left all the memories there." I leaned my head slightly towards him to get a sideways look at him. It wasn't much of a movement, and yet it didn't go unnoticed by Jace. My gaze rested on him, our eyes met and after some hesitation it was he who finally turned away. "My grandmother left nothing that once belonged to my parents. I never got a chance to flip through old journals, swing their swords, or store heirlooms. All I have is a picture Maryse gave me when I was very young. It was from her time in the Circle, but that's irrelevant. It's all I own of them."

"Why did she do that?" I asked, staring ahead at Aaron Wrayburn, who was ordering the others to slow down. We were almost there now. We had just left the path behind us and now rode across country, between bushes and ferns. The seething in my blood froze to ice as we crossed the clearing where Jonathan had nearly killed me a month ago. It all started here.

Jace could feel my tension. His eyes scanned our surroundings with a spark of familiarity that both amazed and confused me. As if he had been here before, but that was impossible. "She must have thought it would help her forget," he explained, shrugging. "As you know, it didn't."

"How do you know that letting go of everything that connected her with her son hasn't helped her after all?" I asked, yielding to Jace's horse as we rode through a tight thicket. My family's land was just beyond those last trees.

"My father," Jace replied in a disgruntled tone. He continued to speak, but his words did not reach my ears. The sudden pounding in my veins was too loud for me to hear.

Our horses broke through the last of the grass and stayed on the rise that spread out before a wide clearing. Clearing was probably the wrong term for it, someone had cleared the woods here long ago to make way for the estate and the adjacent stables and fields. Right at the foot of the hill our gardens sprawled: full of fresh fruit and vegetables in the summer, they were now also covered under the white winter landscape. A stone path led up the middle of the fenced compound to the house, which rested before us in the perpetual permanence I had known for a long time. To the right of the main house were the stables for horses and goats.

Everything looked the same as always. As if I had only been away for a short ride. Just the lack of smoke from the chimney and the darkness behind the windows told that the family that had once lived here was gone. If I pushed the uncomfortable feeling in my chest away for a moment, I could pretend I was okay. As if my mother was still alive and Jonathan wasn't the incubator of some demonic creature.

Jace next to me had stopped talking. He had already dismounted from his horse and was standing a little way down the hill, halfway with the others, who were slinking through the gardens, weapons drawn and eyes alert. I could feel his gaze on me, but I couldn't find the strength to return it or put on a mask of neutrality. I couldn't tell what he saw on my face as I stared at what had once been my home. He only continued on his way to the others when I followed him.

Wrayburn sent three of the Shadowhunters up to the compound to roughly secure the building. I was certain that neither Valentine nor Jonathan were here, although I couldn't say what convinced me of that. My horse stopped next to Aaron. By now everyone else had dismounted.

"There's enough room in the stables for the horses," I said, spurring my animal on to go forward. I didn't care if they followed me or preferred to park their horses outside.

In front of the smaller brick building, I jumped out of my saddle and pushed open the dark green wooden door, which had never been locked. Out here, away from civilization, my parents hadn't worried about thieves or anything like that. The door made a deep creaking sound, but pushed open without difficulty. I led the horse inside and breathed in the smell of dry hay and manure that swelled towards me. After putting the horse in one of the first boxes, I walked further into the stable. They must have tracked down and recaptured our horses after we had escaped from Idris, because Silver stood in his stall as if we had never run away. There was no trace of Jonathan's and Valentine's horses.

The door at the far end of the room squeaked again, and I jerked around in shock, so absorbed in my train of thought that I'd completely forgotten about the rest of the Nephilim. Jace stood in the doorway, his horse's reins in his right hand. "Did you find anything useful?"

Most of the Shadowhunters followed Jace into the stable and chose stalls for their animals. I ignored the tense stares with which many of them looked around. They didn't feel comfortable leaving their horses in Valentine Morgenstern's stables, even though they would be only a few yards away. Part of me couldn't blame them. Another part was annoyed by their distrust.

Jace seemed to be fulfilled by calmness. He walked toward me at a leisurely pace after tying his horse up beside mine, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed the empty stalls in front of me. The weapons on his belt glittered in the faint light that filtered through the small windows of the stable. "Wherever Jonathan and my father went, they took their horses there."

"I'm for once glad they're not here to shuffle our decks," Jace murmured, narrowing his eyes slightly. "And yet nothing seems abandoned enough that their departure may be very long ago. The goats behind the building are all alive and the horse here doesn't seem too hungry either."

I hadn't even thought of that. "They can't know we're coming," I replied, keeping my voice low enough that the other Shadowhunters standing a few feet away couldn't overhear my words. "Unless we've been betrayed."

Jace sighed and ran his fingers through his gold-blonde hair. "Valentine still has his people in our ranks. It could have been anyone."

"I just hope it wasn't one of them, because I don't feel like ending up with a dagger in my back today," I replied, and wandered off towards the exit. I felt Jace's footsteps behind me, but didn't stop to wait for him. I didn't feel like talking to him. My muscles were still begging to run back into the woods to get away from this place. Nothing good was in the air. And now all of this was mine. I didn't know what to do with it if I survived Jonathan and my father. Part of me didn't even know if I was pleased or devastated that my chances of getting out of this whole thing alive were slim.

The first Shadowhunters had begun entering the main house under Aaron Wrayburn. I wasn't going to follow them in, I had already decided that on the way here. Maybe Jace was right and I would regret it later, but right now I couldn't care less.

Instead, I sat on the porch steps and watched as two of the Nephilim disappeared west and east into the forest to go on patrol. The probability that they would find clues was infinitesimally small. Valentine had trained us to cover our tracks. If they found any, then he would have his reasons for leaving them.

"Aren't you coming in?" Jace asked, stopping in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to look at his face. He still had his arms crossed over his chest, but despite the cold he had taken off his coat and now threw it onto the stairs next to me. His gaze seemed distant, as if he were thinking about something.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I admitted, snapping Jace back to reality with my words. He raised his brows questioningly and his golden eyes sought mine. I sighed to myself as I allowed him to pass my walls again. You shouldn't allow this, a voice whispered in my head, and a part of me knew it was probably right. And yet I had this strange feeling, this strange instinct that drove me to reveal to him the conflict that was going on in my heart. Maybe he would understand. Maybe not, but then what would I have lost? Anyway, I wasn't sure if what was building between us would have a positive outcome.

For a moment, Jace's feet swayed as if he was considering taking a step toward me. His movement froze halfway, as if he had changed his mind at the last second. "I …" he hesitated, and his voice had taken on a whisper that made me sit up and take notice. Our eyes were still on each other's and I was amazed at the absence of the uncomfortable atmosphere. Instead, I encountered a familiarity I shrunk from at first because the throbbing in my ears suddenly died away. The silence that followed was strange to me. Ever since I had left my family, there had always been these sounds in the background of my perception. Voices reminding me of who I was and where I belonged and why following my mother had been a terrible mistake. All of those voices fell silent as I looked into Jace's eyes, taking the time to actually look at them for the first time since we'd met at the New York Institute. Something shifted between us, we both felt it, but before I could figure out what it was, Jace suddenly jerked out of the connection that I could have just put my hands on, and I jumped backwards and bumped my back on the next step.

I stifled the gasps trying to find their way out of my lungs. Instead, I pressed my lips together, forcing my facial muscles into a rigid neutrality. Looking up at Jace again, I saw that he had done the same. He cleared his throat. "I can't imagine what it must be like for you to come back here, but orders are orders." An almost hostile coldness had crept into his voice, and I wondered what he must have seen in my eyes, to react like that.

"Never mind," I replied, not responding to his rejection, jumping up before doing anything stupid like looking him in the eyes again. I stepped past Jace and cleared the way for him to the mansion door. "I've been through far worse."

As I waited for Jace to enter the house, I stared out over the snowy gardens. What was the chance of being born into this world as a Nephilim? Extremely unlikely. Compared to the number of people who inhabited this planet, our race didn't really matter. How slim then were the chances of entering this world as the child of the most feared and dangerous criminal in the Shadow World? My fate had turned against me from the moment I had been born. Another day of agony was nothing compared to that. I just had to keep my eyes on the target. It was like I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. Hear his laughter ringing in my ears. Erchomai, I am coming.

This time it was Jace who pulled me back to reality. "Should I bring you something?"

It took me several seconds to understand the meaning behind his question. Then I turned to him. A quick, flowing motion and his hand unconsciously went to his weapon-belt. I curled my lips, letting Jace know I'd seen it. Almost embarrassed, he buried his hand in the pocket of his suit and sighed.

I didn't meet his eyes when I thought about it. Was there anything I wanted to take back to Alicante? A memory of my mother? But I dismissed the thought as another shot through my head. "There's an armory in the basement. If my father didn't take it, there's a shortsword in the display case on the left. It has a golden handle."

Jace nodded. "Anything else?"

I shook my head. Jace turned his back on me and, without another word, stalked toward the manor that had once been my home.

oOo

The estate was quite large for a family of four. As Jace descended the steps to the basement, he wondered what Clary's life here must have been like. Although the sight of the house made her sad, he still felt the longing that this place triggered in her. She connected good things with her old life, and Jace struggled to understand it. Just as he had struggled to see behind her facade of the killer most took her to be. Clary rarely behaved like the person she was described as in Alicante and as she herself had explained the process of her training to the Clave. She was a warrior without example; skillful with any weapon she touched; learned in any fighting style she was asked to perform. And yet he had only seen that deadly side of her after nearly killing her at Kadir's provocations. At the time he had really believed that she would kill Kadir; that her true nature had finally come out. But contrary to expectations, she had been in control. She knew the strength in her veins and knew when to draw the line.

Over the past few weeks, the original picture of Clary Jace had painted in his mind had lost some of its clarity. Maybe it was the angelic power that had changed them both. But maybe everything had stayed the same and he was only now able to see things clearly. More and more often over the past few days, Jace felt like he was the only one stuck in time while everyone around him moved on. Isabelle had overcome her initial hatred for Clary and was now friends with her. He didn't understand how it had been so easy for her. Even today he sometimes had to fight that it was the red-haired girl he saw instead of her father's face. Still, he had a feeling that her brother, Jonathan, would be a much bigger problem than Valentine.

Clary was aware of this as well. Jace knew she had the same dreams as he did. Every time his name was mentioned, her body would stiffen and she would fall into an absent trance. Like traveling back in time. Jace wanted to hate her for probably being nothing more than collateral damage to her father's plans, and yet a part of him was relieved. He couldn't deny the connection he felt between them, even if he couldn't name what it was. Was it the angel's blood?

The armory couldn't be missed. In addition to the large training room, it took up most of the huge basement. Valentine must have had a thing for subterranean spaces, and a voice in Jace's head was sure there were secret rooms here or there as well. One thing he had to hand over to Clary's father, though: he had exceptional taste in weapons. The armory consisted of sliding shelves filled with fine swords and blades of all shapes and lengths. Some made of adamas, others gold-plated or set with precious stones. There were drawers with neatly arranged daggers and knives, some of them made from materials Jace had never seen before or only seen in books. Only the left side of the room was free of cupboards. A long, narrow glass case hung against the stone wall, just as Clary had foreseen. Inside were four weapon racks, three of them empty.

The only weapon in the case was a black and gold adamas sword with a blade slightly longer than his own forearm. The hilt and cross handle were made of gold and obsidian. Jace knew it was hers. It was as if he could feel her touch on the cold edge, although it must have been months now. As he picked up the sword, he could picture in his mind what Clary would look like when she fought with it. Like a deadly storm that was both wild and methodical, beautiful yet inscrutable.

Jace forced himself to reach for the scabbard that lay next to the stand. The material was dark leather and someone had sewn silver stars onto it. It wasn't until he was about to sheathe the weapon that he noticed the star-shaped pattern in the middle of the blade. It was the symbol of the Morgenstern family. Jace sighed to himself and grabbed some other daggers that he felt appropriate for Clary before exiting the armory. It was not only her sword, but also that of her family. Valentine and Jonathan had left it here because they knew she would come. They wanted her to take it.

Part of Jace wondered if he had done the right thing when revealing to Clary that he wanted to try and be friends with her. All he knew was that it was the truth. Even if it didn't make sense. He couldn't ignore his feelings. Sometimes Clary gave him one of those looks that made him wonder if she was looking down into his soul and reading his thoughts in his eyes. Being around her was different compared to being with Isabelle or even Alec. Radiating from Clary was always an explosion of emotions and Jace couldn't help but see himself in her. And yet at the same time she was stillness itself; self-possessed, confident, down-to-earth; the complete opposite of him. Clary was unlike any person he had met in his life and while every fiber in his body should hate her, he couldn't. He'd been fighting that feeling in his chest for far too long, trying to ignore it until it was swollen and uncontrollable. And yet, on the outside, he managed to be the same Jace Herondale he'd always pretended to be.

The Nephilim had meanwhile worked their way up to the first floor of the house. They left a mess where they passed that made Jace's lips tighten involuntarily. He paused in what must have been Clary's room. Two of the Shadowhunters carelessly ripped shelves and cabinet doors off their hinges and ransacked everything they could get their hands on. Now Jace was glad Clary had stayed outside. Of course he knew that everyone here was only doing what was necessary. And yet it bothered him how careless they were with her belongings.

Clary's room was painted a light green, similar to the color of her eyes. A painting of Alicante hung over her bed. Jace knew the place that probably Jocelyn had immortalized on canvas. Although she had been obedient to her father, she must have had a longing for the world outside. Her bookshelf was full of atlases and dictionaries from different countries and regions with many colorful pictures and in different languages. Jace couldn't help but resent stepping into her room in the first place Everything in this room reflected her hopes, expectations and desires for a world she probably would never have seen if she had stayed with her father. Novels about love and freedom and yet she had been imprisoned all her life without realizing it.

Jace continued to wander to the windowsill. He couldn't see Clary from the position her room occupied, but he had a clear view of the snow-covered gardens and the stable where they kept their horses. Three picture frames adorned the ledge. One of the photos showed two children, both no older than ten. The girl had flaming red hair and a petite, shy smile on her lips, while the slightly older boy with snow-white hair grinned mischievously at the camera. He had an arm around her shoulders and they both held children's swords in their hands. The sight made Jace's throat tight since he had seen how much she was suffering from Jonathan's transformation. Now that he saw evidence of their deep, intimate connection, he remembered that her brother had been more than the monster Valentine had made him into.

The second photo showed the whole Morgenstern family, Clary and Jonathan a few years older and a little more serious, if not less cheerful. There was a proud, smug sparkle in Valentine's eyes, while Jocelyn seemed genuinely happy. Jace wondered for a moment who must have taken the picture before his eyes swept away. In the last picture, Jocelyn sat in front of a half-painted canvas that was an unfinished version of the work above Clary's bed. A toddler with a shock of red hair sat on her lap.

Meanwhile, the two Shadowhunters had left the room and gone on to the next. Jace hesitated for a long second, staring down at the images. I've been through far worse. Indeed she had. And even though her mother's death and her father's lies could only be hard to bear, a part of Jace was reluctant to leave the pictures here. It seemed wrong. He turned once toward the door to make sure no one was watching before removing the photos from their frames and stuffing them gingerly into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Not a moment too late, for suddenly Aaron Wrayburn's surprised curse broke the silence of the mansion. Jace's feet moved before he could think about it. It was more instinct than conscious action. Murmuring had broken out two rooms down the hall. The Nephilim gave way to him as he squeezed between them and came to a halt.

The room was similar in layout to Clary's room, except it was mirrored. But that wasn't what had alarmed them. The bed against the left wall was freshly made and the windows were open, so a cold wind was blowing in Jace's direction, picking up an odor that must have alarmed the others. Blood. It was everywhere. On the walls, on the furniture, on the floor. Only the bed was spared. But it was the words on the wall beyond that made the hairs on the back of Jace's neck rise.

I vestrum aprehendet vos.

I will find you.

"It's a trap," Jace whispered into the unusual silence that followed them since arriving at the Morgensterns' property.

Something clicked in his head and suddenly the room full of blood was gone. All Jace knew was that he was running. He was halfway down the stairs to the ground-floor, the dead silence still enveloping him like a cocoon of unease when he began calling her name.


So you got Jace's perspective here. What do you think about it? Do you like it? Visiting Morgenstern mansion doesn't really seem to lift the mood buuut looks like there's some action to come! ;)

Please let me know your opinion about the chapter! Also thank you to everyone who keeps commenting. No matter if you do so regularly or just sometimes, I love to read your thoughs! :D

Skyllen

P.S.: To Clary: I haven't read ACOTAR yet but it's on my tbr. I actually planned to read it this autumn, but I'll probably read the Harry Potter saga first because I'll get it for my birthday! I read Throne of Glass though and it's one of my favorite book sagas! Sarah J. Maas is a goddess!