Chapter Thirteen
"What happened to you?" Alec demanded immediately as they all tumbled out of the car a few hours later. "Why are you covered in ichor?"
"Got derailed by a couple of demons," said Jace unconcernedly. He set the duffel bag on the hood of the truck and pulled out a spare set of gear, changing quickly into it.
"Couple of demons," Isabelle snorted. "Try two dozen. The goddamn Pyxis was like a homing beacon or something."
"Are you all okay?" said Alec, sounding worried.
"Yeah," Simon said. "It could have been a lot worse. Jace killed them all."
Jace could feel his parabatai's eyes on him. He set his jaw and zipped up his jacket with such force that the tab came off. He tossed it aside. "Are we ready?" he said shortly.
"Magnus should be done in a minute," Alec said, glancing over toward the water. Magnus was standing on the shore, blue sparks flying from his fingertips as he moved his arms in a strange dance of push and pull. An eerie silver light pulsed from a circle he had drawn in the sand. As they watched, Magnus let his arms fall to his side, and the light vanished. He turned and made his way up the hill toward them.
"It's ready," he said. Alec reached out and took his hand.
"Do you need more strength?" he said quietly.
Magnus smiled softly and laid his hand on Alec's cheek. "I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me."
"Don't you know I always worry?" said Alec, smiling back.
Jace swallowed hard, averting his gaze. "Give me the Pyxis," he said to Isabelle. He didn't like the way she searched his eyes before handing it over. Turning away, he began to stalk down the hill to the beach. "Let's get this over with," he called to the others over his shoulder. They followed him.
The runed circle Magnus had drawn had scorched the sand, rough black lines forming jagged shapes and marks. A large pewter cauldron in the center of the circle was filled with a bubbling black potion. As Jace approached, the Pyxis glowed an angry scarlet, and the circle began to pulse with that strange silvery light again.
"Okay, here's what's going to happen," said Magnus as they all joined Jace by the beach. "I'll perform the spell—that should give the circle enough strength to hold the demon. When I say, Jace will release the demon into the circle. Then I'll start the banishing spell." He held up a newer-looking piece of parchment. "The rest of you stay back unless something goes wrong."
"Is that likely?" said Simon, sounding apprehensive. Magnus shot him a glare. "Never mind," Simon said hastily. He took Isabelle's hand and pulled her back from the circle until they were both a safe distance away. Alec brought Magnus's face down to his for a slow, lingering kiss before breaking away and following the others. Magnus watched him go.
"Okay," he said, exhaling as he turned back toward the circle. "Here goes nothing."
He unfurled the worn scroll of parchment and began to chant in a strange, guttural language Jace didn't know. The temperature around the lake seemed to drop by several degrees, a sharp wind picking up around them. The Pyxis in Jace's hands glowed furiously, growing hot enough to scald his fingertips through the dishtowel as the runed circle shimmered like a mirage.
"Now, Jace!" Magnus shouted as the circle exploded with light, turning from silver to a bright, pure gold. Swiftly, Jace ripped the towel off the Pyxis and unlocked it, throwing it into the circle.
There was a flash of bloody light; Jace shut his eyes as the light intensified, a hot, smoky wind washing over him. The smell of sulfur hung heavily in the air. At last, the light died away, and when Jace opened his eyes, Beelzebub was before him.
He looked much the same as he had all those weeks ago, when Jace had first seen him in Magnus and Alec's living room. He towered over them, glowering down at Jace. Magnus began to chant again, his voice rising over the roaring, sulfurous wind.
"Jace Herondale," said Beelzebub, his voice a low rumble. "We meet again. At last."
He stretched out a lazy forefinger, flicking at the air around him; it made a sound like a gong being struck, and the circle blazed with light as a shimmering, translucent wall appeared around him, reverberating for a moment in the air before turning invisible once more. "How primitive," said Beelzebub, sounding amused. "You must know this little cage cannot hold me for long. I freed myself easily from the Pyxis...or don't you remember?"
Jace clenched his jaw. Don't react. Don't react.
Beelzebub smiled down at him. "How is our dear Clarissa?"
Jace tried to steady his breath—it was coming out in short bursts. Don't react, he thought furiously, balling his hands into fists in his pockets.
"You may have pulled me out of her," said Beelzebub, lounging against the wall of the circle, "but even you must know you didn't win that battle. She is still fighting me. And soon, she'll be tired..." He ran a sharp nail down through the air; it gave a screech as if he were dragging it along a chalkboard. "She'll give up eventually. And you shall lose her forever."
"Shut up," said Jace quietly.
Beelzebub's eyes flared with delight. "Found your tongue?" he drawled. "Pity. I thought you'd take longer to break."
Jace clenched his fists harder, nails digging into his palms. Magnus's chanting grew louder, the wind picking up around them, blowing Jace's hair into his eyes. Beelzebub hissed in pain, whirling on Magnus.
"Ah, the little warlock," he said, in that same easy voice, though Jace detected simmering rage beneath it. "I see you've recovered from our last battle. You'll be less lucky this time."
Magnus ignored him, keeping his eyes focused on the parchment in his hand. Beelzebub stretched languorously.
"Well, this has been fun," he said, all the humor gone from his voice. "But the game is over."
Before Jace could react, Beelzebub reached out and drove the tip of his finger forward. There was a shattering noise like crystal breaking; the shimmering wall appeared once more around Beelzebub, now with a hole in the center of it, cracks spiderwebbing away from it. Beelzebub grinned at Jace—and then he slammed his fist against the wall.
"Magnus, get out of the way!" Jace shouted, tackling the warlock and pushing him to safety as the wall came tumbling down, glasslike pieces crumbling around the demon, cascading down to his feet. Beelzebub gave a great roar as the golden light died away, leaving the night dark.
The demon stepped out of the circle.
"STAY BACK!" Jace yelled as the others started down the hill, weapons drawn. They ignored him, pushing forward.
Beelzebub no longer looked exhilarated; his face was a mask of rage as he advanced toward Magnus, who pushed Jace aside and continued the banishing spell, backing away from the demon. "I should have killed you," Beelzebub snarled. Jace drew his sword, standing between the demon and the warlock.
"Hey, asshole!" came a familiar voice. Isabelle charged down the hill, her whip curled around her arm. "Get away from my friends!"
"I remember you," said Beelzebub, sounding as if he relished the memory. "Knocked you out in two seconds, didn't I?"
"You won't get another chance," Isabelle snapped, uncoiling her whip. It shot forward, a lick of flame against the dark night. Beelzebub danced out of the way, and it missed him by several inches.
"Oh, won't I?" he said, grinning. He flicked a hand at her, and for the second time, Jace watched helplessly as Izzy flew through the air, landing several feet away in the sand. She didn't stir.
"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Simon shouted as Beelzebub made to move toward her. An arrow streaked through the air, embedding itself in the demon's shoulder. He plucked it out with a small noise of annoyance. Jace took the moment of distraction to swing his sword toward Beelzebub's leg, but the demon moved swiftly out of the way, the movement carrying him closer to Magnus. As he strode forward, evading all of Jace's efforts to slow him down, a heavy bolt flew through the air, hitting home between the demon's shoulder blades.
He gave a roar of pain, reaching up and seizing the bolt. It tore free of his skin with a gush of ichor that spilled down his back. The demon whirled around, hurling the bolt back toward Alec, who was still holding his crossbow—Alec didn't move fast enough, and the bolt drove into his shoulder. Jace felt the blow in his own body, doubling over.
"ALEC!" Jace cried.
Simon dropped to his knees beside Alec, casting his own bow aside; Jace cast a wild glance around. Isabelle was still unconscious in the sand, Alec incapacitated, Simon trying to help him, and Magnus—he was still chanting, though his eyes were wide with fear.
It was this, more than anything, that gave Jace strength; he would not let Alec die at the hands of this demon. He would not let anyone die. Not after everything Clary had been through to stop Beelzebub.
"HEY!" he bellowed as Beelzebub made to reach for Magnus again. The demon paused. "It's me you wanted, isn't it?" Jace snapped, flinging his arms out wide. "Well, I'm right here! Come and get me!"
He saw Magnus give him a fleeting glance, but there was no time to respond. Beelzebub lunged forward, his face contorting in rage.
Jace flung himself backward, flipping through the air and landing on his feet in the shifting sand several feet away. "COME AND GET ME!" he screamed again. The demon roared, sweeping an enormous arm forward; a ball of fire shot toward him. Jace ducked, feeling the flames singe the top of his head. The fire crashed onto the beach behind him, sending up a blast of sand and smoke. Jace leapt forward, slashing out at Beelzebub. Sludgy ichor spilled onto the sand, turning it black.
Fire surged through Jace's veins; his sword was a glowing whirl in the air as he slashed and sliced at Beelzebub, opening multiple cuts in the demon's skin. The demon gave a shriek of anger as Magnus's chanting reached a crescendo.
"Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, I banish—" Magnus cried, but before he could finish, Beelzebub swung around with a snarl, flinging an arm toward Magnus. The warlock went flying, crumpled to the ground several feet away, and was still.
"Magnus!" came a faint, strangled cry from the hill. Relief surged through Jace at the sound of his parabatai's voice, though it was tainted by fear for Magnus and Isabelle.
"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" Jace bellowed as Beelzebub turned toward the hill, another ball of fire gathering in his palm. "I'M THE ONE YOU WANT!"
"Haven't you learned anything?" Beelzebub sneered. "I know what hurts you most, Jace Herondale. You cannot stand to see your friends in pain. If I am to destroy you, I must destroy them. Just as I destroyed your wife."
"You haven't destroyed her!" Jace shouted. "She found a way to beat you, and she'll do it again!"
"I will destroy you!" Beelzebub shrieked. "Her love for you will kill her, and yours will kill you!"
"You don't know the first thing about love!" Jace snapped. "You think it makes us weak, you think it ruins us, but it's made us stronger than you'll ever be!"
As he said the words, something burned against his hip. He glanced down to see the runed seraph blade at his belt glowing, giving off a strange light that reminded him of witchlight. And suddenly, he understood.
"I'll prove it to you," he said more quietly, pulling the blade out of his belt. "I'll show you the power you could never have."
He raised the blade to his lips. "Michael!"
The seraph blade blazed to life. As Beelzebub leapt forward, Jace flung the blade with all his might, driving it straight through Beelzebub's heart.
The demon straightened, staring down at the dagger protruding from his ribcage. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. "Did you think that would work?" he sneered, pulling the blade out. It crumbled to ash between his fingers. Beelzebub leaned forward, casting Jace in his shadow. "You are weak, little angel boy," he hissed. "You are—"
He gasped suddenly. From the wound in his chest, fissures were beginning to form, trickling outward; they shone with a strange, otherworldly light, crackling up toward his throat.
"No," he snarled. "NO!"
He lunged for Jace—but before Jace could react, there was a brilliant explosion of light. He screwed up his eyes against it. A roaring wind formed around the demon, the force of it knocking Jace to the ground. He covered his head with his arms as sand whipped around him, scraping the exposed skin of his hands and neck raw. There was a shriek that split the air, crashing down on Jace's ears—and then silence.
He sat up, panting. Where the demon had stood, there was only a smoldering pile of ash the color of rust. Jace scrambled to his feet, slipping a little in the sand. Across the beach, Magnus was stirring. Jace hurried to him, giving the mound of ash a wide berth.
"Hey," he said, kneeling beside Magnus. The warlock gave a soft groan and sat up slowly.
"That is the last time I'm dealing with a Prince of Hell," he grumbled. "Assholes, all of them. What happened to him?"
"He's dead," said Jace. "Clary's seraph blade killed him."
Magnus's eyes snapped to Jace's. "That's not possible."
"See for yourself," said Jace, pointing at the ash. The wind was catching at it, causing it to slide down the beach and mix into the charred sand around it. Magnus stood unsteadily and limped over to the mound. Jace followed.
"What the hell."
Isabelle, Simon, and Alec had joined them. Alec was leaning on Simon, his face paler than usual, but he seemed all right.
"He lost a lot of blood," Simon said before either Magnus or Jace could ask.
Alec glared at him. "But I'm fine," he said. He looked at Magnus. "Are you?"
Magnus nodded slowly.
"I'm fine, too," Isabelle pitched in. "In case anyone was worried."
Jace reached over and ruffled her hair. She ducked out from under his arm, cursing under her breath. "I'm glad you're fine, Izzy," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "So is anyone going to explain this thing?" She toed the pile of ash, and it shifted slightly.
"He's dead," said Magnus, sounding aghast.
"Awesome," said Simon fervently. Magnus shot him a look. "Not awesome?" he amended. "Why is it not awesome? Isn't that exactly what we were hoping for?"
"We were hoping to banish him," Magnus said sharply. "Killing him is a whole different matter. There are consequences to these sorts of things. It could disrupt the entire balance of the realms of hell."
"Are we sure hell is balanced?" Simon muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Isabelle. Her lip twitched.
Jace's eyes found Magnus's. "What exactly are you saying?" he asked.
Magnus surveyed him for a moment. "I'm saying," he said slowly, "that you need to be careful."
"Aren't I always?" said Jace dryly. Magnus gave him a significant look before turning away to examine the destroyed runic circle, which held only the charred remains of the Pyxis and the smoldering, empty cauldron.
"Well," said Simon, clapping his hands together. "This has been fun. What do you say we all go home?"
"I brought you some coffee."
Jocelyn looked up as Luke approached, holding a steaming mug. She looked wearier than Luke had ever seen her, the circles under her eyes darkening by the minute.
"Thanks." She took the mug and turned away from him, rubbing her thumb across the back of Clary's hand. Luke didn't think she had let it go once since she had taken up her position by the bed several hours ago. Their daughter lay still, her face as white as the sheets she lay on, her chest rising and falling evenly. Luke could almost believe that she was just asleep, that she would wake up any moment.
He bit his lip and sat down beside Jocelyn. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said.
"I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry, too. I know I bit your head off."
"I didn't mean I didn't believe you," said Luke. "I just—"
"Didn't want me to get my hopes up. You said." She took a sip of her coffee and set it down on the bedside table.
"Jocelyn," said Luke softly. "I didn't want to get my hopes up."
She looked at him for a moment; then, silently, she leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. "I know I shouldn't," she whispered. "But I can't not hope."
"I know."
Jocelyn's free hand found Luke's; their fingers intertwined. Luke closed his eyes, resting his head on top of his wife's.
There was a sudden, sharp rasping noise. Luke sat up straight, his eyes flying open. On the bed, Clary gave another great gasp, her back arching off the frame.
"Oh, my God," Jocelyn breathed, leaning forward and clutching Clary's hand so tightly that her own knuckles turned white. "Clary? Baby, can you hear me?"
Clary bucked on the bed, the sheets knotting around her legs. Then, suddenly, she screamed.
Jocelyn jerked back, her hand ripping out of Clary's. Clary screamed again, thrashing on the bed, her limbs flinging outward.
"Get Brother Enoch!" Luke shouted. With terror in her eyes, Jocelyn turned and dashed out of the infirmary. Luke moved forward cautiously as Clary gave another horrible scream, her face contorted in pain, her back arching so high off the bed that she appeared to be floating.
The scream cut off abruptly. She choked—and then, before Luke's eyes, a tendril of scarlet smoke wound its way out of her mouth, hovering above her. It coalesced, wrapping like a ribbon around itself; Luke thought he heard the tiniest cry before it dissolved, vanishing like mist. Clary fell back to the bed and was still.
Luke approached her carefully. Her hair was damp with sweat, and she was breathing heavily, but her eyes remained closed. "Clary?" he whispered. "Clary, wake up..."
The infirmary doors burst open. What happened? came Brother Enoch's familiar voice.
"She was screaming—" said Jocelyn, her voice shaking.
"I saw something come out of her," said Luke, turning to face the Silent Brother. "Red smoke."
He felt Jocelyn's hand slip into his. He squeezed it tightly.
I will need a moment to examine her, said Brother Enoch. You may wait outside.
"No," said Jocelyn vehemently. "I'm staying with her."
"Sweetheart," Luke murmured. "It's okay. Let him help her."
Her frightened green eyes met his; in them, beneath the fear, he saw the familiar fierce determination of their daughter's eyes, and remembered where she had gotten them. Slowly, Jocelyn nodded and let him lead her out of the room.
The moment the doors had closed behind them, Jocelyn collapsed onto Luke, sobbing into his chest. He stroked her back. "It's okay," he whispered, "it's okay, she'll be okay..."
He almost believed it.
By the time they returned to the Institute, the sun was rising, casting a bloody orange glow over the green lawn. Jace staggered up the steps of the church; now that the battle was over, the adrenaline was rapidly draining out of him, and all the Wakefulness runes in the world couldn't keep him awake. But he had to see Clary before he could sleep.
As Simon pushed open the heavy doors and ushered the others ahead of him, rapid footsteps echoed down the hall. Luke appeared in the entranceway, panting.
"I thought I heard the truck," he said, sounding entirely breathless. "It's Clary, she's—"
Jace didn't wait for him to finish. He barreled past Luke, all thoughts of sleep vanishing from his mind. With every pounding footstep and every beat of his heart, there was only one thought: Please be alive. Please be alive.
He burst into the infirmary. Brother Enoch and Jocelyn were huddled around Clary's bed—as Jace rushed in, they both looked up.
"Oh, Jace," Jocelyn breathed. Her face was lined with tear tracks. "Brother Enoch was just telling us..."
"Is she okay?" His voice came out strangled. "Is she—"
The demonic presence has left Clary, said Brother Enoch. It is only a matter of hours before she wakes up.
Jace couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?"
"Clary's fine," said Jocelyn, giving him a watery smile. "She's going to wake up."
"She's—she's okay?" he said numbly.
Clary will be fine.
"Jace," Jocelyn gasped again, pulling him into a tight hug. Jace patted her on the back automatically. "She's okay, she's okay..."
Relief broke inside Jace. He sagged against Jocelyn, his knees weakening. She's okay, he thought.
"Come sit down, you must be exhausted," said Jocelyn, leading him to a chair by Clary's bed. He collapsed into it. "I'll go find Luke, he went to tell the others..."
And she hurried out of the room, Brother Enoch following swiftly. The doors shut behind them.
Jace sagged in the chair. A relieved laugh bubbled out of him. And then, before he could stop it, he was crying. He crumpled forward, sobbing into the sheets, clutching Clary's hand like a lifeline. Thank the Angel. Thank all the angels in heaven. She's going to be okay.
Slowly, the flow of tears stopped. Jace sat up straight, mopping at his eyes. He brought Clary's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. Then, exhausted, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
"You're going to hurt your neck, sleeping like that."
Jace jerked awake. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, though judging by the bright sunlight, it was midafternoon. He sat up straight, his neck cricking painfully; clapping a hand to it, he turned his head to see Clary smiling at him, her green eyes sparkling.
He didn't breathe for a moment, barely able to believe it.
"Clary," he said, his voice cracking. "Clary."
"Hi," she said simply. He exhaled, bending over to bury his head in the sheets beside her, the pain in his neck forgotten. She stroked his hair.
"You're okay," he whispered. "You're alive."
"Oh, come on," she said, and he could hear the gentle laughter in her voice. "You didn't think I could beat that asshole?"
"I never doubted it," said Jace, smiling as he straightened to look at her. He drank in the sight of her, her curly red hair contained in braids, sunlight catching her eyes and making them shine like emeralds. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
"Okay. A little sore." She swallowed, seeming to steel herself. "Jace...is—is the baby—"
"He's okay, too. Alive and unharmed, Brother Enoch said," said Jace. Clary exhaled, closing her eyes. "I think you saved his life," Jace told her quietly.
She gave a small smile. "I think we both did." She reached out and took his hand. "Well," she said, her voice lighter. "You look worse for the wear."
He glanced down at himself; he was still wearing his gear, through which Beelzebub's blood had burned several holes. Clary shook her head exasperatedly.
"Let me guess," she said, giving him a playful smile. "You got back and immediately hurtled up here to check on me."
"That was a pretty easy guess, considering how well you know me," said Jace.
Her smile softened. "I do." She shifted over, making room for him on the bed. "Come here." He obliged, crawling onto the bed beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, feeling her pulse against his fingertips.
"So?" she said quietly.
He tilted his head to look her in the eyes. "It's over."
Her whole body seemed to relax against him. She closed her eyes, curling into his chest. He kissed the top of her head gently. "Clary," he said softly, "I don't know how you did it, but you...you killed him somehow."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"Your rune," he said. "The rune on that seraph blade—when I used it against him, it killed him."
"He's...dead?"
She straightened slightly, wincing. Jace moved to help her, but she pushed herself up to sitting, locking eyes with him. "I—I thought he'd be banished. I didn't think—" Her eyes filled with tears. "He's dead?"
"He's dead," Jace said softly. "He can never hurt you again."
"Oh," she gasped, and she collapsed on him, sobbing. Jace felt tears prick his own eyes, tears of relief, tears of pain and anguish that were over at last. "Jace..."
"I know," he whispered.
He held her for a long time, stroking her hair gently. A cloud passed over the sun, dappling the floor of the infirmary with dancing spots of sunlight. At last, Clary spoke again, her voice thick.
"Jace," she said softly, "why aren't you mad at me?"
He looked at her. "Why would I be mad?"
"Because..." Her eyes were shining again. "Because I lied to you. I know he told you the truth about all those weeks. And I—" Her voice broke. "I know I shouldn't have lied, and I hated doing it, but I couldn't—I couldn't let you—"
"Blame myself," Jace finished quietly. She nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Clary..." He stroked a thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone. I should have been there for you."
"No," she said vehemently, "no, Jace, you were. You did everything you could."
"See, you're doing it again," he said, smiling sadly. "You're trying to protect me. And God knows I can't blame you."
She stared at him, her lips parting slightly. "I don't understand."
"All these weeks," Jace began quietly, "you kept everything you were going through secret. You felt like you couldn't talk about any of it with me, because you were scared I'd use it against myself. And the truth is, I probably would have. But that wasn't fair to you. You practically killed yourself just to give me a little peace of mind." He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "You shouldn't have had to be afraid of that. You shouldn't have had to worry about that."
"I just wanted to protect you," she whispered.
"I know." He kissed her forehead. "I know you did. But if I wasn't the kind of person who felt guilty about everything, who thought everything was my fault, you wouldn't have had to. You could have talked to me about everything, you could have had my support. And that is my fault."
"Don't," she said softly, but he smiled, shaking his head.
"I'm not going to hate myself for it," he said. "I'm just going to change it, so nothing like this ever happens again. So from now on, no more self-loathing. No more self-destruction. Just a normal, healthy mindset."
Clary looked bewildered. "Wow," she said. "What happened to you?"
He laughed. "Isabelle slapped some sense into me. But also..." He squeezed her hand. "Your rune lit up when I told Beelzebub that our love made us stronger. It only worked once I realized that, and it ended up destroying a goddamn Prince of Hell." Clary gave a watery chuckle. "Our love is incredible, Clary. But it only works when we trust each other. We have to be there for each other. And stuff like this, like me blaming myself for everything, it only comes between us. You cut yourself off from telling me anything so you could protect me, and that came between us, too. Because you couldn't trust that I'd be okay if you told me the truth. But I will be, Clary. I can promise you that now."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she brought her lips to his. He gave himself fully to the kiss, leaning into her, breathing in her scent.
After a long time, they broke apart. "Clary," said Jace softly, gazing into her eyes. "If you want to talk about what happened, I'll listen."
She hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he said. "I promise, I'm not going to use it against myself. Healthy mindset, remember?"
She chuckled. "Only took you twenty-five years to get there," she said dryly.
"I think it might take a while to unlearn the habit," said Jace truthfully.
She squeezed his hand. "It's okay. I'll help you," she said softly.
He smiled. "I'd like that." She returned the smile, oddly shyly. "So..." said Jace. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I..." Her eyes shimmered. "I want to. I really do, Jace, I just can't. Not yet. It's too..." She took a shuddering breath.
"Hey." He kissed her forehead. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."
She nodded, exhaling shakily as she closed her eyes. Tears dropped down onto their entwined hands. Jace reached up and gently wiped her cheeks. She rested her head on his chest; he felt her relax into him, their bodies fitting together perfectly.
"I love you," Clary whispered. She placed her hand over his heart. They lay there together, their pulses mingling, and Jace exhaled, feeling lighter than he could ever remember feeling.
"She's awake!" said a sudden voice from the doorway. "Oh, ew, wait, they're canoodling."
They both lifted their gazes to see Isabelle poking her head through the door. Clary and Jace exchanged a glance; Clary shook her head, smiling slightly.
"You can come in, Izzy," she called.
Isabelle threw the doors open, hurrying into the room with a mass of people on her heels: Jocelyn and Luke rushed after her, with Simon, Alec, and Magnus close behind.
"Clary!" Jocelyn gasped, flinging herself onto her daughter. Jace shifted awkwardly out of the way. "Oh, you're awake, thank God..."
"Mom," said Clary, her voice sounding muffled beneath her mother's arm, "I can't breathe!"
"Oh, sorry..." Jocelyn withdrew, hastily drying her cheeks. "I'm just so glad you're okay."
"I know," said Clary, smiling softly. "I'm glad, too." She glanced at Jace; grinning, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, filled at last with hope.
END OF PART ONE
A/N: WHAT?! FIFTY REVIEWS?! I'm so so grateful to all of you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. I'm glad people have been enjoying the story.
Based on everyone's responses, I will be uploading twice a week for Part Two, on Saturdays and Wednesdays. I'll be taking a short break, and then we'll be back with Part Two! We're only getting started, folks. It's about to get a whole lot crazier.
Thanks for reading, and see you soon.
~4L
CITY OF SMOKE AND DUST WILL RETURN ON FEBRUARY 8, 2020.