Chapter Nine

The clock on the wall of the library ticked incessantly. Simon had to resist the urge to rip it down and fling it out the window.

They had all spent the last few weeks wrapped up in researching how to trap the demon. For the first couple of days, Simon and Isabelle had stayed at the Institute, joining Jace and Clary early in the morning in the library to pull down stacks of books from the shelves, poring over them until nightfall. Each morning they were joined by Jocelyn and Luke. Tessa and Jem tried to help by sending documents over occasionally, but they had their own business to attend to and the others rarely saw them, though they knew they were doing their best to help from afar. Maryse had been there for the first three days as well; she had constantly hovered over Clary, badgering her to eat and rest, and eventually Clary had snapped, telling her to go research with Alec and Magnus. They hadn't seen much of Maryse since; Simon suspected Alec had told her to lay off.

The others dropped in occasionally to share information they had found, but none of it ever came to any fruition. Eventually, Izzy had remembered hearing about a rare copy of an ancient spellbook in the Morocco Institute's library. She and Simon had packed up immediately and traveled there, careful not to reveal too much to the heads of the Institute; they were still trying to keep the extent of the situation under wraps.

It took them the better part of two weeks to find the spellbook. At last, Izzy had pulled it triumphantly from a bookcase that was so covered in dust it looked like a mass of gray cotton. They had both riffled eagerly through the pages—but the spellbook turned out to be extremely outdated, filled with error and misinformation, and so they returned to New York, weary and discouraged.

Jace was clearly disappointed to hear that their trip had come to nothing, but he said nothing other than to tell them that Tessa had sent over a packet of notes from the Spiral Labyrinth and that they had better get started on them.

Now, Simon hid a yawn as his eyes skidded over the same sentence for the fifteenth time. It didn't help that the book he was reading was in Chthonian; by the time he finished deciphering one sentence, he had forgotten the previous one. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, and glanced around the room. In the chair beside him, Jace was hunched over Tessa's notes, eyes flicking back and forth across the page. Isabelle's chair on Simon's other side was empty; she had left a quarter of an hour ago to pick up Chinese food for all of them, claiming that they couldn't possibly focus on empty stomachs. Jocelyn and Luke, Jace had told them, were looking through the pack's documents for anything that might help.

And Clary...Simon hadn't seen her since he and Izzy had left for Morocco. Jace had told him upon their return that she was resting up in their room; they had fallen behind on the Institute's paperwork since the night of the attack, and she had spent the last few days catching up on it all while the others researched. "She deserves a break," Jace had said firmly, as if daring Simon to object. He hadn't; he remembered that first night, when she had broken down sobbing in the library, and the horrible nightmare that had followed...he quite agreed with Jace that she was going through enough without being forced to research along with all of them.

Blinking tiredly, Simon turned back to his book, skimming the dense text. Beside him, Jace let out a surprised noise; Simon looked up again, thinking he had found something. But Jace was looking at the doorway, where a figure stood against the frame. Simon's lips parted in shock.

Clary looked absolutely awful. Dark half-moons marred the skin under her eyes, her hair hung thin and limp around her shoulders, the vivid green of her eyes seemed duller, and, despite the fact that her stomach should have been rounding, she had clearly lost weight.

Jace stood, crossing the room to her side and kissing her cheek. "You should be resting," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I'm not tired," she said, smiling weakly. "And now that we're all caught up on paperwork, I should be helping with the research." She caught sight of Simon; he was still staring at her in disbelief. "Hey. When did you get back?"

He found his voice. "What happened to you?" he said.

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

Simon's eyes flickered to Jace, who gave a tiny shake of his head, his eyes dark. Jace took Clary's hand, leading her over to Isabelle's empty chair. "Do you want to just sleep down here?" he said gently. "You should relax."

She shook her head, reaching across the table and grabbing a worn copy of Daemonatica. "I'll be bored out of my mind if I don't do something." She smiled at him as she opened the book, balancing it on the arm of her chair and tucking her legs up beside her.

"You look like death," Simon said in an undertone as Jace went back to his chair, picking up the notes again.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

"I mean it," said Simon, watching her. "You don't look healthy."

She met his eyes, giving a very false smile. "I'm fine, Simon. Don't worry about me." And before he could say anything else, she bent over her book, her body language very clearly ending the conversation.

Simon sighed, turning back to his own book. The clock ticked on and on as the minutes went by; Simon felt as if the sound were burrowing into his skull. He tried to block it out, focusing on translating the text in front of him. After struggling with a particularly convoluted phrase for five minutes, he let out a frustrated groan.

"Damn it all, what the hell is this word?" he said aloud. He turned to Clary. "Hey, does this mean 'bumblebee' or—"

He broke off. Clary had fallen asleep, her head pillowed on her book, hair fluttering with every snore. "Um, Jace," said Simon, poking him in the arm. Jace glanced up, catching sight of Clary. He seemed surprised to see her asleep. "Your wife is drooling on a very rare copy of Daemonatica."

"Let her," said Jace tonelessly. "I don't think she's been sleeping well. Any sleep she can get is a good thing."

"Demon nightmares?" Simon guessed.

Jace shook his head. "Not since that night that she woke us all up. I think...it's more that she's afraid to sleep."

"How do you know?"

"Know what?" said Jace abstractedly, watching his wife.

"How do you know she hasn't had any more nightmares?"

"You saw how it was that night," said Jace in a hard voice. "She was screaming so loudly that you heard her from three rooms away. If she was having nightmares, I'd know."

"But—"

Jace stood up abruptly. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee. You want some?"

Simon was silent for a moment, watching Jace. "Yeah, okay," he said finally. "Thanks." Jace gave a grunt of acknowledgement and left the room. Simon glanced at Clary again before turning back to his book.

There was a soft noise; Simon looked up. Clary shifted in her chair, giving another barely audible moan. Suddenly, she thrashed; the book slid from underneath her head and fell to the floor with a crash. Clary sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open as she let out a cry.

"Clary," said Simon, kneeling beside her chair. She drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes, evidently trying to steady herself. When she opened them again, she was calm.

"I'm okay," she said, in a voice that would have sounded light to anyone who did not know her as well as Simon did. "It was just a—"

"Demon nightmare," Simon finished.

"I was going to say dream," said Clary, pulling herself up straight.

"Cut the crap, Clary," Simon said. "It was a nightmare, wasn't it?"

She glanced down. "It...might have been. But I'm fine, I swear."

"Jace said you weren't having any more nightmares."

"Jace," said Clary in a level voice, "doesn't know. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Clary—"

"Simon," she said, standing up and picking up her book from the floor. "I said I'm fine. Just let it go."

She made to move past him, but he caught her arm, pulling her back. She gasped, yanking her arm out of his grip and holding it against her body gingerly.

"What—" Simon stepped forward, and before she could stop him, he grabbed her sleeve and pulled it up.

He stared.

Bruises decorated her arm like some macabre rainbow, greens and yellows mingling with reds and blacks and blues and purples. Simon pulled her sleeve back further; the bruises snaked up her entire forearm, so abundant that Simon could hardly see any unmarked skin at all.

"What the hell," he breathed. Clary looked away. "Clary, how—did the demon do this to you?"

"No," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't lie to me," he snapped. She flinched. Slightly surprised, he released her, and she moved away from him, turning her back. "I'm sorry," he said, in a softer tone. "I just—how did this happen?"

"It's nothing," she said shortly, pulling her sleeve back down over her arm.

"Is it like the burn? Is he hurting you in the dreams?" Simon said with more urgency, catching at her hand again as she tried to move further away. "Clary, tell me."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Clary said, shrugging him off.

"You don't have to handle it. If you tell Jace, we could—"

"I'm not telling Jace," Clary said flatly. "He doesn't need to know, and there's nothing either of you can do about the dreams, so just drop it, okay?"

Before Simon could say anything else, Jace came back in, carrying two mugs of coffee. "I told you not to wake her up!" he said, frowning at Simon.

"I didn't," said Simon. "She had a—"

"A very strong craving for coffee," Clary said loudly, cutting him off. "And look at you, my knight in shining armor, bringing me just what I need." She plucked one of the mugs out of Jace's hands and took a sip. She wrinkled her nose. "You put cream in it."

"That's because it was supposed to be mine," said Simon, crossing his arms.

"You'll live," said Jace, sipping from the other mug. Simon scowled, but before he could speak, the chime of the doorbell reverberated through the Institute, followed by a loud banging on the front door. "That'll be Isabelle with the food," said Jace, setting his mug down. "I'll go help her." He strode out of the room, and Simon immediately turned to Clary.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tell Jace right now," he said.

"Simon," Clary sighed, putting her own mug down. "What good would it do? He'll freak out, and then he'll be worried out of his mind, and then he'll be overcome with guilt because he can't fix it. You know how he is. He feels guilty about absolutely everything that isn't perfect in our lives." She sank down into her chair. "I'm just trying to protect him."

"Right, sounds reasonable," said Simon dryly. "Don't protect the girl who's getting beaten every night by a supernatural demon with magic dream powers. Protect her totally unscathed husband instead."

Clary gave him a look. "I know you don't understand. Can you just trust me on this? Trust that it's important to me?"

He met her gaze levelly for a moment. Finally, he said quietly, "You promised you would tell me if it got worse."

She was silent for a long moment. "Can you blame me for wanting to protect you, too?" she said softly, tears filling her eyes.

It felt as if his heart were cracking. Silently, he reached out, pulling her out of her chair and into a hug. She melted into him, the energy seeming to drain out of her.

"Don't ever think you need to protect me," he said, stroking her hair. "And don't ever think this is a burden you have to bear alone."

"I know," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. She pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, letting out a slow breath.

"You going to be okay?" said Simon, watching her.

She nodded, and he squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, then released him, going back to her chair. He followed, sinking into his own and settling his book across his lap.

"Simon?"

He looked at her.

"Thank you," she said, with a soft smile.

He returned the smile and reached out to ruffle her hair. "I love you, Clary."

"Love you, too. Don't touch my hair."

The pounding on the front door grew louder and more insistent as Jace hurried down the hallway. "All right, all right, I'm coming," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he reached the doors and threw them open.

The snarky comment he had been about to make died in his throat. Chinese takeout containers littered the front steps, kung pao chicken and fried rice scattered across the lawn. And there, melting out of the darkness, was a demon, its purplish tentacles wrapped around Isabelle's throat, supporting her limp body as her head lolled, long dark hair brushing the ground.

"Hand over the Pyxis," the demon said, his voice like slime suctioning through a tube, "or she dies."

"What's taking them so long?" Simon complained, shutting his book with a snap and going over to the large window that overlooked the front lawn. "I'm starving."

Clary sighed, marking her place in Daemonatica and setting it aside. She stretched, wincing slightly as the bruises on her left arm sent a ripple of pain across it. "They'll be here in a second. Stop being so impatient." Her own stomach gave a loud rumble. "I don't suppose you ordered kung pao chicken?" she added hopefully.

He didn't answer. She looked up at him. He had gone very pale, his eyes widening.

"Simon?" she said, half-rising out of her chair. "What's wrong?"

Without a word, he turned and ran out of the library, disappearing down the hallway. "Simon!" Clary called after him. Swearing under her breath, she got up and dashed to the window, squinting in the darkness. There were two figures on the porch of the Institute. She recognized Jace's golden hair—he seemed to be holding out his hands in a peacemaking gesture to the other figure, who looked oddly disfigured, and appeared to be hugging someone else—or choking them? —someone with long, dark hair—

Clary's eyes widened, and she took off after Simon, bolting toward the entrance hall. She caught up with him just as he skidded to a halt on the threshold, staring out at the scene before them.

The demon swiveled to look at them, Isabelle's head lolling precariously in its tentacled grip. Clary registered it as a Cecaelia; its body was slick with purplish slime, oozing down its body and over Isabelle's. "Give me the Pyxis," it snarled in a thick, wet voice.

"Let her go, then we'll talk," said Jace, taking a cautious step toward the demon. It screeched, tightening its hold on Isabelle. Her lips began to go blue. Jace stopped dead.

"NO!" Simon shouted. "Leave her alone!"

"I want the Pyxis!" the demon shrieked.

Give it to him, hissed Beelzebub's voice inside Clary's head. She swallowed hard, digging her nails into her palms. Give it to him, or face my wrath.

"All right!" said Simon. "Just don't hurt her!" The demon gave a burbling laugh.

Clary caught Simon's arm. "Don't give it to him," she whispered.

GIVE HIM THE PYXIS, snarled Beelzebub's voice.

Simon locked eyes with Clary. "Trust me," he said in a low voice. Then he turned and rushed back into the darkened halls of the Institute.

"There, he's getting it," said Jace, his gaze hard on the demon. "Now let her go!"

"Not until I hold the Pyxis," said the demon, his voice slurping, slime spilling down from its mouth. "Till then, she's mine, mine, mine..." It gave another bubbling laugh, tentacles slithering around Isabelle, sliding down her jaw and neck.

Clary took a step back into the shadows of the entrance hall. She could almost reach the hidden niche—

A tentacle shot through the air, wrapping around her neck. She choked as it yanked her back over the doorstep and tightened around her throat, cutting off her breath.

"NO!" Jace roared, lunging forward, but before he could do anything, something streaked through the sky, burying itself in the demon's head.

It gave a gurgling spasm; then its hold on Clary's throat loosened. She wrenched herself away, gasping for breath, just as the demon pitched backward. Jace leapt forward, seizing Isabelle and pulling her to safety as the demon tumbled down the steps, already beginning to fold in on itself, taking the arrow with it.

Out of nowhere, a scream exploded in Clary's mind, a scream of pure, unadulterated rage, reverberating in her skull. She cried out, clamping her hands over her ears, but the scream went on and on, loud enough to make her head swim, her vision blur.

She was dimly aware of someone calling her name, a question lost to the wind—then darkness claimed her, as swiftly as if someone had snuffed out a candle.

"Clary!"

Jace, still holding up Isabelle, could only watch as Clary crumpled silently to the ground and lay there, unmoving. Without thinking, he swung Isabelle up into his arms and carried her over the threshold of the Institute, feeling the wards ripple around them. He carefully set her down on the stone floor and went back outside, doing the same with Clary. By the time he laid her down beside Isabelle, Izzy was stirring, moaning softly.

"What happened?" she murmured, trying to sit up. Jace pushed her back down gently.

"Just rest for a minute," he said, pressing two fingers to Clary's throat. He let out a breath of relief as he felt her pulse coursing steadily under the skin.

Isabelle blinked slowly, turning her head to the side. Her eyes widened. "Clary? Holy—"

Rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder. A moment later, Simon dashed around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of them. A bow was slung across his back; he shucked it off as he dropped to his knees beside Isabelle.

"You're awake," he said, sounding relieved. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," said Izzy. Simon nodded. He glanced quickly at Clary, over whom Jace was still leaning.

"I saw Clary fall," he said to Jace in an undertone as he began to check Izzy over for injuries. She batted his hands away.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "What happened to Clary?"

"The Pyxis," said Jace shortly. Simon caught his eye; they shared a look. "I'm going to take her to the library," he said, gathering Clary up into his arms.

"Good idea," said Izzy, attempting to stand up. Simon made a small noise of concern, reaching out to help her, but she shook him off, getting to her feet slowly. "Ouch," she said, wincing slightly and shifting her weight onto one leg. "I think I banged my knee."

"Sorry," said Jace, smiling a little despite himself. "I guess I didn't catch you fast enough."

She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm more upset about the Chinese food, to be honest," she said, pouting. "It looked so good..." She sighed. "Freaking demon. I hate sneak attacks."

"You like them when you're the one doing them," Simon pointed out.

"That's because mine don't involve me getting knocked out by a slime demon," said Izzy, pressing a hand to her side and pulling it away; a long string of goop followed her. "Gross."

"Why don't you go get cleaned up?" said Jace. "Meet us in the library."

Izzy gave him a mock salute and limped off to the bathroom, Simon hurrying behind her.

Jace tightened his hold on Clary, settling her more securely in his arms. He looked down at her face; it was pale and still. Her cheekbones jutted out prominently, her skin taut against the bone. The circles beneath her eyes looked like bruises, and she seemed pinched and drawn. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was ill.

He sighed, bending his neck to press a kiss to her temple. Then, gritting his teeth, he set off down the corridor.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, next week's is full of stuff, don't worry :) Also, thank you so so much for over 50 follows! I'm so glad so many people are enjoying this story.

Much love, and thanks for reading!

~4L