Chapter 59 – Injustice, Torture, Death
I was still drunk. The effect was wearing off now, but as clumsy as I felt, it would probably be a while before I was back to normal. My limbs were sluggish, something behind my eyes was pounding against my head, my stomach was rebelling against its contents. The latter was partly due to the journey to this country house in which I now found myself. Somewhere in the southern hills of Idris. The transport here, tied to the back of a horse, had been anything but pleasant.
One of Blake's men had chained me to a chair in the mansion's basement a while ago. Since then I have been vegetating, again without any sense of time, but without the blue glowing cage around me. It didn't change anything. The shackles were too tight. Somehow even unnecessary. They really had to be afraid of me, tying me up double and triple. The gag in my mouth alone was proof enough that they had randomly done everything humanly possible to keep me from escaping.
Just as I was beginning to wonder if they would just leave me alone until my father arrived, Blake stalked down the stairs into the basement. Out here in nature they didn't have to worry about hiding me in a secret room. Blake's eyes studied me, the blue around his pupils cold as the snow outside and merciless as a wild sea. Slowly his mouth formed a smile. Mischievous. It sent a shiver down my spine.
"I said we'd have fun together," Blake purred, carelessly removing the gag from my mouth. "Now the time has come." Before I had fully realized his words, he drove a dagger into my thigh. Just like that. Right through the muscles.
My scream bounced off the basement walls. The oxygen rushed into my lungs and my breathing suddenly came in ragged bursts. The pain that shot through my body like lightning was so intense that I saw stars. I tried to move, but the restraints held me in place. There wasn't an inch of freedom of movement. Tears stung the corners of my eyes.
And just when I thought I was slipping into torture-free darkness, Blake pressed something cool and familiar against my neck. Adamas. A stele. A moment later, the force of an Iratze slid through my body, binding the muscles in my leg back together, sealing the skin, stopping the flow of blood. The fog around my head disappeared right with it. As did the headache and nausea of my stomach.
I blinked. Suddenly there was no trace of the alcohol anymore. Blown away by the Iratze just like the dagger stab. I looked up at Blake who was smiling. "It couldn't be better." Then he hit me in the face with the stele. Again and again. Until blood ran out of my nose and I spit blood onto my dress. I was still wearing that beautiful, sparkly ball gown. But with the hardships of the last few hours – or days? – it had lost its radiant glow. Now it hung weakly on me and there was a hole where Blake had stabbed the dagger into my leg. The only truly beautiful item I had owned and now that too was destroyed.
Once again I felt the healing touch of the stele on my skin and then all the pain disappeared as if it had never existed. Let's go again. Blake reminded me of a shark. Once he smelled blood, there was no going back. The concentrated look in his bright eyes had given way to a hint of madness.
Blake strolled over to a table in the corner of the room. From where I was chained to the chair, the various instruments had a silver glow in the pale light. I jerked my head forward, away from Blake. I focused on my breathing.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
I pressed my lips together and forced my father's education into my mind. He had prepared me for so much, but not for torture. Even he hadn't gone as far as hurting his own children to teach them not to give in. Nonetheless. I would get through the next few hours. I would get through what Blake would do to me. And then I would take revenge on him.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
Blake picked up a hammer and returned to me. His steps were deliberately slow, giving me enough time to drown in my fear. But I wasn't afraid. There was no emotion in me as I gritted my teeth, stared straight past him and waited.
It didn't change the shriek that escaped my throat as Blake shattered my kneecaps. Just to take the pain away from me after the worst was over. If there was hell, I was in the middle of it right now.
It continued like that. For hours. At least that's how it seemed to me. When Blake got bored, he would pick up a new torture instrument and start a whole new ordeal. He went through everything with me. Knives, pliers, heat, fists. He even had brass knuckles lying around here. Blake revealed to me the full extent of his madness.
Although I could hear my cries of pain from far away, it felt as if my soul had left my body at a certain level of torment. I could no longer feel my limbs, could not move them, could barely think. Either my nerves had failed because Blake had hit some sensitive spot, or this was a defense mechanism to protect me from the worst.
I watched from a distance as Blake leaned over me, his face distorted and twisted. Every blow was supposed to go through my bones and even though my body reacted to it and I screamed at the top of my lungs, I felt nothing. I wasn't in this body. It wasn't me pleading for her life. Or maybe it was just another part of me. A part strong enough to take it while I hid like a coward and endured.
Blake had reached the seventh instrument when the world around me began to spin again. I was still crouched like a shadow behind my body, as the ground seemed to be torn from its roots to spin on its axis like a wild carousel, dragging me into this vortex. Was I now going crazy too or was this just the side effects that the torture had on my mind?
I didn't know how Blake imagined these torments would unfold; whether he had thought my body could withstand them indefinitely. At some point even his strongest Iratzes could no longer do anything against the throbbing in my head. Or prevent scarring. And only when Blake realized that I would soon lose consciousness, even despite his stele, did his eager hands finally come to a halt.
I didn't have to look down to know I was covered in blood. It felt like I was only half stuck in my limbs, my nerve endings out of reach, as if they had all gone numb. Blood, blood everywhere. With every breath I took, my dress clung to my skin. The smell of metal and the feeling of the sickening moisture enveloping my body brought tears of nausea to my eyes.
Blake disappeared from my sight, but I didn't trust him to just leave. There was something in the stuffy, sweaty air. A squeaking sound filled the room and then water flowed from a faucet; poured into a container. As the water level rose, the sound of the water flowing got higher.
Even before Blake untied my bonds one by one and dragged me to the basin, I knew what to expect. As if on a silent cue, more people rumbled into the basement, stood a few meters behind Blake and watched us silently. They stood there like statues.
Blake seemed to be counting to ten internally, giving me time to examine the rusty bathtub, which was now filled to the top with water. Certainly ice-cold water, straight from some wastewater barrel that stood outside. I was drawing the oxygen into my lungs when he jerked me into the tub. The cold of the water pierced my skin like a hundred sharp needles. My arms shot to the edges of the tub out of reflex alone, even though I knew I wouldn't reach them. Blake's hand found my throat and squeezed. Pushed me under the water, preventing me from breaking the surface. The muffled laughter of his friends reached me even through the water. I could see their blurry shapes beyond the surface. The water distorted their faces into dancing masks.
My lungs burned. I tried to count the seconds, but after two minutes a weight pressed down on my body was so heavy that I could no longer think clearly. Not Blake. My lungs that threatened to collapse inside me; who fought for new oxygen. I released some of the depleted oxygen and felt the bubbles against my face as they rose to the surface.
Once I started fidgeting, it would all be over. I would panic. But my arms and legs were already shaking from the exertion. My blood demanded air. I released the remaining oxygen from my lungs and choked on the water that surrounded me on all sides. My upper body began to tremble in response, wanting to clear the unrelenting cold from my throat. A coughing fit shook my chest and the chill spread deeper into my esophagus in response.
And there it was. The panic. It was only a matter of time. The next thing I knew, my body went into survival mode. It began to fidget, twisting back and forth, back and forth. Like a wild animal in a last attempt to escape its hunters. I tried to free myself from Blake's grip, whose iron weight remained around my throat. No chance.
Darkness swelled at the edges of my vision. I could feel an even greater weight pulling me down. Was it unconsciousness or was it death creeping up on me? Just as that question popped into my head, Blake suddenly let go of me. It took my brain far too long to notice the absence of pressure around my neck. When it finally noticed, my head shot up and my fingers clawed at the edges of the tub.
My mouth opened eagerly, gasping in panic, taking a deep breath. Not out, just in. It was like my lungs were trying to take in as much oxygen as possible. It felt like I was suffocating. Too much, too fast. The sounds coming from my throat – coming from deep in my body - didn't sound human. My breathing was loud, like a high-pitched rattle, because there was still water in my esophagus.
Blake and his friends laughed. So warm, so happy, that the next moment I leaned over the edge of the bathtub and puked right at one of them's feet. He didn't find that funny anymore.
"I had so much fun," Blake hummed, his voice conveying just that. The good humor in his tone was so perfidious that I had to blink against the moisture in my eyelashes several times, wondering if I had just been dreaming for the last few hours. My brain couldn't understand how a human could enjoy cruelty in such a way.
I felt their eyes on me as I leaned against the head of the tub for support, shaking and shivering and not having the strength to leave the icy water behind me right now. Blake threw a towel at me. "There are spare clothes on the table," he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if he hadn't made sure I needed those spare clothes. With a spring in his step and without another word, he finally strolled to the stairs and disappeared upstairs.
It took me three tries to get myself out of the bathtub, only to hit the floor with a thud. My wet body was heavy as lead. Blake's friends laughed as I shuddered to my feet. They didn't have the decency to look away as I slowly peeled myself out of my tattered, blood-stained dress like a worm. I had the feeling that they were watching even more intensely. And even though I was now wearing new clothes, a combat outfit not unlike what they wore, the cold would not leave my limbs. It had eaten through my skin, penetrated my bones and now lay dormant there. Waiting.
There are spare clothes on the table. Blake's words only now, minutes later, sunk into my head. In a fit of weakness, I leaned my body forward, slouching as if I couldn't breathe properly. On the table. The same table on which Blake had laid out the many torture instruments. My eyes darted to the side, but I turned my back to the boys. They didn't see where my eyes were going. And the moment my eyes found the dagger that had just been lodged in my leg, I knew it was over.
Quick as lightning, my hand reached out. A blink of an eye later I turned around and threw the dagger. The first of four went down. Dead. Or right before. The other three reflexively jumped back, thrown off course. Then, realizing Blake's fatal mistake, their hands slid to their weapon belts. Too late.
The hammer hit the second one a second later. Definitely dead. I no longer paid any attention to sparing my opponents. I aimed to kill. Otherwise I wouldn't survive here. I charged forward, straight towards the two remaining ones. They raised their swords, but I had overcome their defensive stance in one slide across the ground, jumped to my feet behind them and kicked the one closest to me in the back of the knee. His seraph blade landed in my hand before he hit the ground. Then I plunged the blade between his ribs. Blood spread across the tiles. Dead, dead, dead.
My last living opponent was just coming to a stop from his about-face. Sheer fear was written all over his face as he took in the chaos around him. Less than thirty seconds had passed. I took advantage of his distraction, not giving myself the chance to feel pity. As my sword rushed towards him, he took a step to the side and counterattacked. I parried his attack and we had a brief exchange of blows. His level was perhaps that of Adam, probably worse. I took advantage of the first weakness in his posture to plunge the blade into his chest. Dead, dead, dead, dead. I didn't pause as his blood dripped down the blade. Without the adrenaline in my veins, I probably would have realized that today was the first time I had killed another person. And then four in number. I already knew that it wouldn't stay at four. Blake Ashdown was still alive, after all.
I gave myself exactly one minute. Not to take a breather, but to relieve one of the Shadowhunters of his weapon belt. Eventually I collected as many daggers and blades as the belt could carry.
When the minute was up, I stormed up the stairs. The element of surprise was still on my side. I had to use it as long as I could. For a second I pressed my palm against the door at the top of the stairs. Then I kicked the wood and the door flew half off its hinges. Someone was standing next to the door. The boy, barely older than sixteen, had my dagger in his throat before the sound of the door had died away. Five dead.
The main floor was full of Blake's friends. Or assistants. Or accomplices. Whatever he called them. I counted six. Almost synchronously, as if they had precisely coordinated their movements, they reached for their weapons. The smile that spread across my lips testified to the horror I had endured for the past few hours. For a fraction of a breath, I wondered if I looked as insane as Blake.
The thought was forgotten as my eyes moved to the hallway where the front door lay. The way out. The path to freedom. Six against one was a difficult game, even for me. At the bottom I had complete surprise on my side, here I would have to think more tactically. Here the skills of my opponents would be more important.
The Shadowhunters rushed toward me, their faces tense and aggressive. My blood pulsed in response. Fun. They could have that. One of them swung his sword and the impact went through my bones and made my teeth chatter. I spun around and slid sideways, catching one of the others at hip-level. His hitching breathing was the only indicator that I now had five flanks to watch. Six dead.
I exchanged a few blows with the first Shadowhunter before stealing away backwards, taking my legs in my hands, and running up the next flight of stairs. To the first floor. The country house had two. If Blake wasn't up here, I'd have to check on the second floor.
Behind me, my five pursuers clattered up the narrow steps. Their size was their disadvantage. While they audibly stumbled over each other with their broad shoulders and long feet, I made it up in no time. Only to collide with a woman there. We both fell onto the thick carpet that lay in the hallway leading to the stairs. For a moment her light blue eyes widened in wonder. She scanned my face and I scanned hers, the others almost directly behind me. Then she recognized me and I recognized her. We jumped to our feet almost at the same time. I pulled the first dagger I found from my belt, kicked her in the stomach, and wrapped my arm around her neck.
As I spun to face my pursuers, the blade at Blake Ashdown's mother's throat, his friends paused. "Careful," one of them dared to say. It was the one who had exchanged blows with me on the ground floor. I slowly moved down the hallway, in the opposite direction of the five young men. There was no trace of Blake. If I was unlucky, he would appear right behind me.
I dared a sideways glance down the hallway. Closed doors. We had already passed the stairs leading up. At the end of the hallway, sunlight streamed in through a tall window. Dammit. That would hurt. I forced Blake's mother along with me, ignoring her sharp nails in my arm and the curses that came from her mouth.
"So eager to die?" I asked against her ear and her muscles stiffened like stone against me. "I've already shed so much blood today that anything more won't even be noticeable."
A frantic clatter from the stairs caused all the boy's heads to turn towards the source. A head of auburn hair appeared behind the other Shadowhunters, eventually pushing past them. Blake came to a stop two meters in front of me and didn't look happy at all.
"I told you you were going to die soon," I said and smiled. Before Blake could open his contemptuous mouth, I plunged my dagger into his mother's throat. Just like he had done to me that evening on the canal. A strange sound escaped his lips. Surprise, horror, anger. I didn't wait to see what he did next. I threw his mother away from me, against the wall and the mirror that hung there. The mirror burst and she screamed, but I had already turned around, rushed to the window and jumped out shoulder first from the first floor.
The window glass shattered around me into a thousand small pieces, pressing into my skin or flying off in random directions. For a moment I floated in the air, could see snow-covered fields in the distance, felt the sunlight on my skin. Then the full force of gravity pressed against my body and dragged me into the depths. My forearms absorbed the full force of my fall, somewhat cushioned by the inch-deep snow. I scrambled to my feet, feeling the dizziness creeping up my spine. Concussion? Hopefully not now.
The icy cold helped to keep my senses in the present. A relentless wind tugged at my wet hair, turning my ears to ice. I snapped my head up and stared at a landscape that seemed to consist only of snow and forest. My body staggered to my feet, swaying to the side as I ran. A roar erupted behind me.
As soon as I regained my balance, I sprinted. Down the slope that was several dozen meters long. A hill on which the Ashdowns had built their country house. The makeshift boots Blake had provided skidded across the snow and I had to stretch my arms out to keep my balance.
About halfway down the slope I heard the whistling in the air. Similar to the hiss of a whip, but more consistent and persistent. My mind didn't react quickly enough. The arrow hit my right shoulder before I could dodge. The energy with which it dug into my back threw me forward. In the blink of an eye, I tripped and fell headfirst down the hill. The drop dragged me along, the arrow piercing deeper into my back as my body twisted over and over again. When I reached the bottom, the arrow had broken off and as I knelt, trembling, in the snow, I watched as a steady stream of blood dripped onto the ground, staining the white world red.
A hoarse gasp escaped my lips as my trembling fingers moved to my shoulder. The broken butt of the arrow was wet between my fingertips. I couldn't tell whether it was blood or snow. I pulled it out of me with a strained scream. So much blood.
My legs arched as I stood up. Blake had already reached the slope and was now diving towards me, a sword in his right hand. The resentment on his face seemed burned into his muscles, as if he couldn't help but look that way, as if it were set in stone. A smile crossed my face. Then this was probably the moment.
Something in my gaze made Blake pause. Shortly. His friends followed him, various weapons at the ready, but a quick wave of his hand made them stop. So he knew it too. That this was our moment. It surprised me, as I had thought he was a coward when it came to equal strength.
I wiped my red fingers on my pants and then reached for the seraph blade on my weapon belt. Leisurely, as if this were nothing more than a sparring match, I twisted the shaft between my fingers, balancing it on the palm of my hand.
Blake slid down the rest of the hill and came to a stop a few meters in front of me. His eyelids twitched, as did his arms. Like he actually couldn't control himself. An opponent without self-control was an easy target. If he only focused on his anger, he would neglect his fighting style. But would he really fight against me alone without the protection of his friends?
I didn't care. I lunged forward and a spark of dissatisfaction crossed Blake's face as if he had wanted to claim the first move. Too late. My sword sliced through the air and the soothing hiss of Adamas enveloped us. As the jolt of impact vibrated through me, I bared my teeth at Blake. Blow by blow, I turned around him and he turned around me. No tricks, just a simple, direct sequence of movements. A dance so simple that I probably could have done it with my eyes closed. Every time my blade met his, a new wave of adrenaline and euphoria ran through my body. The fire in my veins finally allowed me to breathe deeply, transforming my movements into a sequence of elegance and balance.
Blake tried to break out of my sequence of punches. But with every step he dodged to launch a new type of attack, I was already there to start again. Again and again. While Blake fed on his hatred, drawing strength from it, I had pushed my anger toward him deep into my chest. As soon as he was on the ground, I would get it out again.
A harsh roar boomed out of Blake and this time when he jumped to the side, I didn't follow him. I wanted to see what he could do. So I gave him the chance to show how good he was. Blake, misinterpreting my hesitation as confusion, switched fighting styles. His steps became wilder, more unpredictable. But also more complicated to maintain.
Soon we were swirling around each other like two storms trying to gain the upper hand. The earth vibrated with a surging thunder in the distance, as if the Archangels themselves were watching. Each of Blake's attacks consisted of hard blows coupled with attempts to twist my wrist so that he could knock my blade out of my hand. Blake lost himself in the undynamic and impulsive rush of the fight. He mastered the speed and hardly left a gap in his defense.
However, his friends on the hill grew more restless with each passing minute that our fight continued. The anticipation that they wouldn't be watching in silence much longer spurred me on. Once again thunder echoed through the heated silence of the hill country. Blake and I continued to rush around each other, in a frenzy. Now or never. I couldn't drag this fight out forever.
Blake sneaked up on me, blade extended in front of him like a spear. I dodged to the right and raised my sword in response. He turned to parry my next blow, but I was crouched and the Adamas whizzed inches past my ear. Blake cursed because I had broken out of the lack of momentum in his fighting style and I bounced off my feet into the air, letting go of my sword as I did so. A second later, my fingers clutched a dagger and jammed it into Blake's sword-holding hand.
His groaning scream mingled with the ever-increasing roar of thunder above our heads. Blake shook his hand, which was now oozing a steady flow of blood. He snapped his head towards me, his pupils dilated in astonishment. He staggered backwards, away from me, but I didn't stop before lifting my leg and kicking him in the chest with my boot.
Blake stumbled to the ground and immediately pushed himself up onto his elbow to look me in the face. Hatred flickered in his eyes, which looked so much like the snow around us. The grip on my seraph blade tightened. I didn't have time to give Blake a long death. His friends were too great a threat for that, and they were already waking up from their torpor when they realized that their leader was losing.
A smile spread across my lips and Blake spit on my boots. His gesture only made my grin grow wider. Scornful and resentful. The thunder was now so loud that my blood was pulsating in time with it. Now that it was all coming to an end, I allowed myself to release the anger from my chest.
A flood of images flashed past my mind's eye. Blake's cowardly attack at the canal. Jace's desperate attempts to keep me from drowning in it. The panic that had been coursing through my veins like a warning signal ever since. The panic that was colder than any snow could ever be. I now brought all of that back to the surface.
My hand trembled with anger, disgust and bitterness as I raised my sword above my head, poised to deliver Blake the death blow. The thunder was so powerful that the earth shook in rhythm with my body. I let the air escape through my nose and moved my arm when the tremor and thunder suddenly stopped. From one moment to the next, as if they had never existed.
"Clary!" His voice, so pacifying and composed, opened a completely different wound inside me. Suddenly I had to claw my fingers into the shaft of the blade to keep from dropping it as a new wave of emotions washed over me.
Adam had appeared a few meters away from me. He was sitting on the back of a massive horse and now got down from the saddle in one smooth movement to walk over to us. Something in my chest broke apart.
"Stay right there," I shouted, now pointing my sword at Adam, who stopped with his hands raised. A different kind of anger spread through me as I looked into my friend's eyes. Friend. Liar. Traitor.
"Please think before you do something you'll regret later," Adam said in a pleading tone. If I hadn't already emptied my stomach contents, I would have done so now. I couldn't believe I had fallen for him. That velvety voice that wrapped you around your finger so easily, that made lies seem so believable.
"What are you doing here, Adam?" Blake asked, coughing, before I could answer.
"I'm trying to save your life," Adam replied darkly.
"Oh of course." Blake rolled his eyes as if he didn't believe a word Adam said. Then he furrowed his brows. "You're just here to make sure I don't spill any of your secrets."
Adam said nothing and instead balled his hands into fists.
"How long have you been working together?" I asked in no particular direction.
Adam and Blake exchanged a long look and I felt like I was listening to a silent conversation. Before either of them could make a sound, the air behind Adam suddenly began to spark. Adam turned his head frantically, then widened his eyes as he recognized the portal appearing out of nowhere in the snow-covered waste beneath the hill. The blue and purple sparks burned out and Adam reached for his sword as several figures walked through the portal. A curse passed Blake's lips.
A small group of Nephilim took shape in front of the portal, and I had to look twice to make out Jace, Isabelle and Alec among them. All three armed to the teeth. But their pointed, grim expressions were quickly replaced by surprise as they took in the scene before them. And it was indeed an astonishing scene. Probably not what they expected.
Blake lay bleeding in the snow. I, covered in blood and drenched, stood over him with my sword extended, ready to execute him on the spot. Adam, who seemed ready to attack and negotiate at the same time, had positioned himself a few meters in front of Blake and me, forming a barrier between us and the portal. Then Blake's friends, waiting and watching at the top of the hill, also ready for battle.
Jace started running as soon as our eyes met. I turned my head away, not wanting to see him in front of me because suddenly, the memories of the evening of the celebration pushed to the forefront. How we had first kissed and then he had left me standing there. I couldn't afford to think about that now. A distraction. My time was running out.
So, I forced my demanding gaze back to Adam and Blake, who realized that the presence of my friends only fueled my rage further, contrary to what it should have done. I felt the cool strategy leave my body as my emotions took over. Everything was exactly as it shouldn't be.
A second later my blade was at Blake's throat. The world around me seemed to slow down. Jace almost stumbled as he came to a stop somewhere behind Adam. Not close enough to stop me. Blake tensed beneath me. Adam took a step toward us before my warning glance stopped him. I alone was in control. A power that I enjoyed with every breath.
"I'm asking one last time," I heard myself saying, venomous and emotionless and vindictive. "How long have you been working together?"
Adam and Blake exchanged a look again, but this time Blake's mouth twisted into a malicious, superior grin. Adam's features fell.
"Adam and I have been best friends since we were kids," Blake said. "He was the first member of my small team of friends who disagreed with the Clave. Even though he really dislikes getting his hands dirty, unlike the rest of us. That's why we use it for … other tasks."
"What tasks?" I asked tonelessly.
"Adam's a spy," Blake summarized, and Adam hissed in response, actually baring his teeth. An expression I had never seen on his face before. "The conservative faction sent him. Initially, he was in New York to spy on the Lightwoods because they were once part of the Circle. We were interested to know if they still kept in touch with Valentine." Despite the blade at his throat, Blake's eyes pierced through me like a knife. His smirk hinted at the gravity of his next words. "But then you showed up. Clarissa Morgenstern. A much better prize compared to any secret the Lightwoods might have."
Blake didn't need to say anything else. I could imagine the rest. It was exactly as Jace and Isabelle had suspected. Even if they couldn't have imagined the extent of Adam's betrayal. As my attention shifted to Adam, I didn't feel a single spark of life in my body. Like there wasn't a soul in me that could feel empathy or anything else.
"Say it," I urged Adam. My voice was sharp as death and empty as darkness. "I want to hear it from your mouth."
Adam looked exactly how I imagined a liar would look when realizing his house of cards was collapsing around him. Fear and desperation flitted across his features, then a plea for understanding as our eyes met. "It may have been like that at the beginning, yes," Adam began, but faltered. A deep sigh shook him. "I initially became friends with you because I thought you could provide us with information about Valentine. Information about everything. But the more time I spent with you, the more I realized I was making a mistake. What I told you in the Accords Hall is the truth. I swear to the Archangel that it is the truth."
"Your vows mean as little to me as your feelings for me," I replied. With every word I spoke, the tremor in my voice grew stronger. "All this time I thought you were my best friend. I defended you from the others. I believed your lies and tried to make the others understand them!"
"You don't know how sorry I am about all this," Adam murmured, genuinely seeming to hope for understanding.
"I don't care."
"Telling you a twisted story about my friendship with Blake was the only way to stay close to you – to stay your friend," Adam said now. "After Blake tried to kill you, you would never have stayed friends with me if you had found out the truth about me."
"Rightly so!" I shouted, yanking my sword away from Blake's throat and pointing it in Adam's direction. He was close enough to hurt him. My arm shook in anger and betrayal. "I have been lied to my whole life. Do you think I need a friend who will lie to me in the same way? Do you think I want a friend who secretly supports my father?!"
"But I don't support him," Adam cried, only to stop in the middle of his stream of words. He looked at Blake, who smiled back. "I didn't support Valentine," Adam finally said.
"You would have let Malachi kidnap me. Malachi and Blake work for my father. You can't lie to me anymore."
"Look how complicated your lies have become, Adam," Blake scolded amusedly as he continued to lie bleeding in the snow. "Just tell her the truth. But you can't do that, can you? The truth would ruin you. I would ruin you."
Before I could ask what Blake meant, he raised his good hand. Several things happened at the same time. I heard an arrow being fired from the hill, whizzing through the air, straight towards me. Adam lunged forward, a scream on his lips. I took a step back and was about to face the archer when someone knocked me sideways.
A weight slammed against my body and before I could open my eyelids again, I was lying in the snow with Jace protectively over me. My breath caught in my throat as my wounded shoulder gave a painful throb. I stared up at Jace's face, inches from my own, his strong arms spread around my torso like a shield.
"I am sorry," he whispered, and I knew immediately what he was talking about.
A painful groan pulled me out of my trance and I suddenly pressed my hands against Jace's chest in panic until he gave in and rolled away from me. I jumped to my feet, a dismayed gasp of my own escaping me when I saw Adam lying on the ground. In the snow, now glowing red from all the blood Blake and I had shed. Now Adam's blood mixed with ours. The arrow that had been intended for my heart was lodged in Adam's chest. He had thrown himself in front of me to spare me from death.
My feet gave way. The next thing I knew, my fingers were running over Adam's forehead, which was suddenly covered in sweat. "Adam," I murmured. "Adam, do you hear me?"
But Adam stared past me. Into the gray, cloudy sky. As if his soul had already left his body. His breathing was ragged. A quick touch on his neck confirmed that his pulse was slowing.
Adam reached for my hand and the weakening strength in his fingers brought tears to my eyes. "I love you," Adam whispered, but his eyes continued to look skyward. Frantic feet stamped through the snow and two unfamiliar Shadowhunters crouched next to Adam. "I have loved you for so long. I just never knew ... how to tell you. I'm sorry … that I didn't find a better way."
From far away someone started laughing. That amused, self-satisfied laugh that reminded me of the hours spent in the mansion's basement. Blake had gotten up and was running up the hill. The only reason a fight hadn't broken out yet was because of Isabelle, Alec, and the rest of the Shadowhunters from the escort, who had positioned themselves at the foot of the hill, waiting for one of Blake's friends to make the mistake of challenging them.
I reached for the stele hanging from Adam's weapon belt and drew an Iratze on the crook of his neck. Without knowing whether it wasn't already too late for that. Whether the arrow had perhaps hit vital organs. It very much looked like it had.
Then, driven by disgust and vengeance, I rose from Adam's body and fixed my eyes on Blake. A shiver ran through my muscles as I allowed myself to sink into the void deep within me; as I let the blazing anger and the desire for retribution overwhelm me. I moved forward, a dagger in my hand. My feet broke into a sprint and as I passed by Isabelle, she stepped aside to let me through. She knew what I was about to do.
Jace started moving too, trying to grab my arm to stop me, but this time he wasn't quick enough. I lunged forward, raised the dagger, and hurled it at Blake before Jace could grab my wrist and pull me back. The blade hit Blake exactly where his arrow had pierced my shoulder earlier.
Blake fell and I spun around to face Jace. He opened his mouth, raised his arms as if to force me into a tight grip, but my own hand shot forward. Jace's golden eyes widened as I brought him down with a punch to the nose — so forceful that my knuckles ached.
Then I was back on Blake's heels, who had just gotten back to his feet. He roared in pain and pulled the dagger from his back to throw it at me. I ducked and the blade whizzed over my head. Blake, unnerved, was too slow to escape me. I reached him seconds later and, with a blow to the back, sent him flying into his own blood in the snow.
As my fingers wrapped around the Seraph Blade, those images once again flashed before my inner eye. The canal. The kidnapping. The torture. Death. I should have been dead long ago, but I was still alive. I lived and Blake lived too, although his death would make life easier for so many people. I thought about all the Shadowworlders he had killed so far. For fun. Because he had the power to do so. Simply because he could. Blake lived while so many of his victims were supposed to live in his place.
My chapped lips curled into a sneer. Madness and horror and irony coursed through my veins and I tried hard to contain every ounce of emotion in my gaze as I collapsed into the snow in front of Blake. I knew I could because Alec and Isabelle stopped his friends from intervening. Blake knew it too. He knew I would kill him. I could see it in his light blue eyes, which had suddenly become as pleading as Adam's had earlier.
Despite all the emotions in my body, there wasn't a shred of pity I had for Blake Ashdown. I remembered the words I had said to Adam when he had crossed my path on the roof of the Ashdowns. I'm already like Blake. I'm probably even worse. There was no justification for me pushing my dagger deep into Blake's leg. Where he had pierced my leg. With this very dagger.
There was no justification and yet I felt no remorse. All I felt was satisfaction. My smile widened. A hoarse, crazed laugh erupted from my mouth as Blake's scream echoed across the plain. "I told you my face would be the last thing you see." Blake's writhed beneath me, trying to free himself from my grip. Just like I had tried earlier when he had forced my face under the water. With each movement, the blade in his leg destroyed more tissue. A jerk, a desperate scream from Blake and the dagger was out of his flesh.
"I said I would kill you," I continued, calmly, as if Jace wasn't already on my heels.
I pressed my bloody fingers against Blake's chin, forcing his face towards me so our eyes met. "I hope you enjoy your life in hell, Blake. The thought that I will follow you there to continue tormenting you in the next life pleases me."
Blake's eyes were on me. Motionless and fearful at the same time. "I had so much fun." Realization flickered across his features, recognizing the words he had said to me after my own torture had been over. "I hope you did too."
Then I slit Blake's throat.
My dear people. Here we are again – with lots of trauma to unpack. Again, I guess? A looot has happened in this chapter and I'm veeery curious about your opinions. If I got a cent for every Adam hater out there, would I be rich now? What do you think of his confessions? Do you believe he is sorry or is it just another act? What do you think of Jace's short apology? Would you forgive him? Did Blake get what he deserved?
I would be very happy about your comments and kudos/likes, so this story reaches more readers! :)
See you next week for all the drama to unfold hahaha,
Skyllen