Chapter 86 – Collision Course

- Less than 1 day before the start of the war. -

I would have stepped back if I had expected this turn of events. But the genuine shock on Adam's face made my muscles freeze. For a split second, I just stood there, watching as he flailed his arms in vain, trying to regain his balance. Stumbling, his tall frame leaned toward me, suddenly towering over me like a skyscraper beside a house.

From somewhere far off, I heard Jace call my name. I couldn't tell if it was in warning, irritation, or fear. The adrenaline now rushing through me was entirely focused on Adam. He crashed into me with full force, and we both instinctively reached for each other — him to prevent a harder fall, me to catch his weight. My fingers opened, and I heard more than saw my sword fall into the depths below. The sharp metallic clang as it hit the terrace below rang in my ears.

As soon as the rumble of our collision vibrated through my body, I knew he was going to pull me down. Adam was much bigger and heavier than me, so using my strength here was already a losing battle.

Pure instinct made my foot step back. Then another metallic sound slid through the night. Deeper and more piercing – like a wall of adamas being torn apart in the solid state. And as the ground suddenly gave way beneath me, I was the one who let out a shrill scream. Not calculated, this was definitely not part of my plan.

I hit the roof, back first, and the recoil hurled my head against the last row of tiles. For a moment I saw stars, so bright it was as if the earth were on fire. Then, without warning, our bodies slid toward the edge, set in motion once again by the slope and gravity. I waited for the gutter that should have caught us; that would have given us at least a few inches of room. But there was no gutter. At the edge of the tiles was ... nothing. And even as we slid across the roof, I suddenly identified the metallic thunder: the gutter had given way under the weight and force of our impact.

"Fucking hell," I blurted out, letting go of Adam as if I had been burned. "Hold on tight!"

Adam, practically on top of me, did just that. The others were screaming so wildly that I couldn't understand a word. Our bodies left the roof, and I reached out desperately for the tiles. My fingernails scratched at the clay, and I shuddered as a wave of goosebumps shot through me. I managed to close my hands around the end of the tiles before gravity had a complete hold on us.

We plummeted downward, and Adam let out a roar as he began flailing around me. We hadn't fallen far when my shoulders suddenly collided with something solid, pressing harshly into my upper back. Definitely not the roof anymore.

"The gutter," Adam gasped with relief, his breath smelling of scotch. I wrinkled my nose.

"Climb up," I ordered, a few octaves too panicked. "Climb up, now!"

Adam craned his neck upwards, as we were now half hanging from the roof and half hanging on the swaying, dislocated gutter. Who knew how much longer it would hold.

A strained sound escaped me. Carrying his weight in addition to my own was pure torture, even though the stupid gutter took some of it. My fingers trembled with tension and the burgeoning sweat made them increasingly wetter.

Adam stumbled for air and released one of his arms from my shoulders. At least the alcohol made him not think too much, because he immediately fumbled for the bricks. As soon as he got a hold of them, he swung his right leg up and onto the gutter. In a contorted maneuver that made the gutter shake, he heaved himself up.

Murmurs from the roof told me that at least one person had climbed up in the short time. Oh, please don't let it be Jace, was all I could think. Finally, fingers closed around my wrists, and I was pulled up.

Of course it was Jace. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me away from the edge until my back was completely on the bricks. But he didn't let go. His hold on me tightened and his golden eyes roamed over me just inches away – scanning me for injuries. At least, that's what I would have done if he were lying here.

"You," I blurted out, panting and out of breath. Jace raised his eyebrows as his free hand cupped my cheek. For a moment I forgot why I had been avoiding him all day. Why there was still this fear simmering at the edge of my consciousness. "I– I see you twice." I must have hit my head pretty hard.

Jace's blond eyebrows shot up even higher and he immediately pulled out his stele. The Iratze on my neck instantly cooled my muscles, relaxed my breathing, and made the pounding headache disappear. Along with the last traces of alcohol in my blood. The remnants of euphoria dissolved as quickly as bursting soap bubbles. All that remained was fear.

I sucked the oxygen into my lungs, shaking, and got up before Jace could protest. His fingers remained on my hip, the expression on his face an indecisive mask. There were fine cracks that I could peek through. Which was why I knew he wanted to talk to me. About my disappearance, about our conversation yesterday. My heart told me more than clearly that I wasn't ready for that. So I pulled away from him, practically jumping to my feet, leaving Jace kneeling behind.

"Thank you," I forced out through clenched teeth.

When Jace noticed my passivity, his face closed off to me. The cherry on top of my pain. I forced my eyes away from him – to the heavy-breathing Adam, who was being treated by Isabelle. But he flinched away from her, raised his arms defensively and didn't look like he wanted to cooperate. Since I had absorbed the entire fall, he didn't seem all that hurt. Only the alcohol was noticeable.

"I don't want any Iratze!" he explained vehemently to Isabelle.

"Leave him be." I put my hand on Isabelle's shoulder before she could argue with him. She turned her head to me and when our eyes met, I leaned close to her ear and whispered, "He wants to stay drunk."

Understanding flashed across her face, and she nodded and pocketed the stele. When she looked back at me, her pout was back with renewed vigor. "Why do I always miss all the fun?"

Sighing, I brushed my hair out of my face, which must have looked like a bird's nest after this long day. "Because falling off the roof is so much fun," I explained briefly and pointed to Jace with my eyeballs, who was now helping Adam to his feet.

"Oh." Isabelle patted my shoulder. "You two should–"

"Please, not now." My gaze followed Adam and Jace as they climbed the slope side by side and then disappeared towards the chimney. As soon as I thought they were out of reach, I continued. "I don't want to talk about it. I have to find the courage somehow, and Jace's Iratze just took the last of it from me."

"You're an idiot if you're afraid of his reaction, Clary. Jace loves you! Alec says he's been in a bad mood all afternoon and even though he didn't want to give anything away, I know he misses your presence. He had no idea where you'd been all day." Isabelle linked arms with me, and we followed the two of them with careful steps.

"I know he loves me." Saying it out loud gave me goosebumps. My boots practically scuffed on the bricks. The scotch had left an emotional vacuum that was now filled with a double dose of sadness. "Which doesn't change the fact that he's thinking about whether this makes sense for us."

"You have to talk things out before you might regret it," Isabelle said quietly before climbing down the facade.

I didn't follow her immediately. Instead, I stared at the glowing city around me, at the sparkling demon towers, and let the wind blow through my hair. It was slowly getting chilly without a coat. The smell of warm food filled my nose and as I turned to search the garden, I spotted the first guests. Shadowhunters our age, older and younger. Also some Shadowworlders. With his bright sequined outfit, Magnus stood out even from this distance. He and Alec were deep in a calm but intense conversation.

Before you might regret it. A feeling of unease tightened around my throat and weighed down my stomach like stones. Shivering, I rubbed my hands together. In the solitude of the roof and away from the witch-lights, I allowed my heart to let go for a moment.

A shuddering breath escaped my throat, sounding close to a sob. I wasn't crying, but I could feel my body yearning for some kind of release. Now that the alcohol was gone from my blood, I had no desire to endure the torment of scotch again, yet I missed the high that came with it.

More and more voices echoed from the property's back entrance near the stables. It was time for me to get down. I couldn't stay up here forever, hiding in plain sight. The descent was quick. Less than a minute later, my feet landed in the dry earth next to a flowerbed and I stretched my legs out with relief on a flat surface.

There was no sign of Isabelle. She had probably disappeared into the crowd somewhere. Adam was standing a few meters away, his back to me, at the edge of the terrace and still away from the Shadowhunters. With his face turned towards the garden, I could only guess what was going on in his mind. His legs were planted in the grass, but he seemed hesitant ...

I stepped out of the shadows and stood to Adam's left but said nothing. My gaze slid over the garden and the guests, searching for Jace. He was easy to find.

Jace stood at the edge of the small forest, at the end of the garden. Under a flickering lantern that distorted his angelic features. He leaned against a tree trunk, his arms folded across his chest again. His indifferent face resembled a giant billboard warning everyone to stay away from him. His eyes, the gold of which could just be made out from this distance, were unmistakably fixed on me, following my every move.

The emptiness in his pupils drove me over the bridge I hadn't wanted to cross up on the roof. I knew it was nothing but a defense mechanism, knew he was seething inside; that he loved me.

I don't know if we are a good idea. The words rang through my head like a sledgehammer and the world blurred before my eyes. A strange feeling of dizziness ran through me. Unlike the fog of being drunk. This felt more like claws shoving me from one side to the other, brutally trying to bring me down.

I couldn't take my eyes off Jace, who was staring at me just as relentlessly. But now that he felt his gaze being returned, his muscles tensed. His lips twisted in an expression I couldn't read. Almost like he was baring his teeth, only less intense, almost painful.

"Clary?" Adam's dismayed voice reached my ear. "Clary, what's wrong?"

I flinched when Adam touched my arm, tearing myself away from Jace's glowing eyes. Tears streamed down my cheeks, which now began to burn. With a quick flick of my finger, I wiped them away. I wanted to return to Jace, needed to see him, needed to understand that look on his face. But when my frantic eyes returned to the tree, there was no trace of him. He had vanished into thin air.

The disappointed heart in my chest sank even lower. Maybe Isabelle was wrong. Maybe Jace had already distanced himself from me emotionally. Maybe it was already too late.

"Clary?" Adam waved his hand in my face and from his expression he was starting to get increasingly worried.

I silently shook my head, about to wave it off, when several people appeared behind Adam's back. I blinked to focus my vision, and Adam must have noticed the change in my features, because he turned to the laughing crowd, which suddenly seemed far away to me.

"Well, well," sneered a male voice, his face obscured in the shadows of a string of lights. For a moment, he just stood there, flanked on both sides. Like a king surrounded by his royal guard. His mid-length black hair fell to his muscular shoulders. If it weren't for the typical Shadowhunter gear, I might have mistaken him for a werewolf, given his bulky frame.

He was the first to step forward, his companions only milliseconds behind. Barely a meter in front of us, they stopped in perfect synchronization – arranged in a semicircle around us like a pack encircling its prey. As they approached us, they stepped into the cone of the nearest lantern, revealing their features in the witch-light.

They were three young men who couldn't have been much older than us. Only one of them had rune marks. Judging by the casual human clothing of the other two, they had to be Shadowworlders. Not vampires, they weren't pale enough for that. Not warlocks either, since I couldn't see any marks anywhere. Werewolves, then? Given their obvious unity, I was surprised.

"Adam Demonhunter." This time the man to our left spoke. He practically spat out the last name as if it were soiling his tongue. Then he rolled his head back in a gesture reminiscent of warming up before training. Only at the same time he clenched his hands into fists.

My senses sharpened. Without thinking, my feet shifted on the soft ground into a stance ready for action. There was violence in the air that these three breathed; it was tangible like a physical object.

"I thought my senses were deceiving me, but it's really you. You're actually here," the Shadowhunter continued, tilting his chin in a precise movement as if to get a closer look at Adam. The sharpness of his dark eyes caught my breath. The contempt with which he fixed Adam was bubbling like a volcano seconds before erupting.

"Do we know each other?" Adam asked, confused.

"We don't have to, scum," the third one growled. Bright scratch marks covered his bronze-coloured skin from head to toe. Whatever had happened to him, his left eye had irreversibly lost its ability. "It's enough that we know where your loyalty lies."

As if there had been a silent signal or some unspoken warning, they lunged forward simultaneously, straight at Adam. Suddenly, everything sped up, as if someone had pressed fast forward. For the first five seconds, I was too shocked to even comprehend what was happening.

The Shadowhunter grabbed Adam's right arm while one of the wolves hit him in the face so hard that if I were Adam I would have fainted immediately. A violent twitch ran through my body as if someone had given me an electric shock. Blood spurted from Adam's nose, now sitting crooked and broken across his face. Before he could even make a sound to alert anyone, the third pressed his palm over his mouth. Then they hit him again. Again and again.

"Hey!" The scream roared from my throat. I lunged forward, swung, and knocked the Shadowhunter to the ground with a well-aimed blow to the larynx. A gasp escaped him as he struggled to get up, but I kicked him in the face with every ounce of strength I could muster. His nose gave a shuddering crack as the toe of my boot collided with it.

Someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me in the opposite direction from the Shadowhunter. I planted my feet in the ground and tried to spin around. Huge, cold hands gripped my upper arms as if they were nothing but thin sticks. They squeezed so tightly around my skin that they seemed to want to break my bones.

To my right I could hear Adam groaning. A glance in his direction told me he was trying to pull away from the werewolf. They were wrestling for the upper hand and for a split second I thought back to one of our previous training sessions when I had faced him in a wrestling match. I turned my head ninety degrees to spot my own attacker behind me. I lifted my shoe, bent my leg and kicked him between the legs with as much momentum as I could get in my cramped position.

His grip loosened enough to drop me to the ground. A breath later, I was face to face with him. Without a weapon, I stood no chance against a man of his stature. That didn't stop me from challenging him. Not by attacking him. All I did was raise my arms defensively.

"Leave him–" The hairs on my back stood up before I heard the Shadowhunter creeping up. Instinctively, I ducked and tried to move to the side, but Adam stumbled into my path. We collided, and in the confusion that followed, the Shadowhunter managed to draw a dagger and press it to my throat.

So slowly that it seemed like minutes, I raised my arms in the air. A sign that I was unarmed and didn't want any trouble. Which of course didn't fit with my previous agenda, but what else could I do?

"Maybe you aren't as loyal to the Clave as people lately claim, if you defend him so vehemently," the Shadowhunter hissed in my ear.

I didn't care about his words or his loyalty. In my mind, I was already crafting a plan to disarm him of his dagger without him even moving his hand. I was just about to act when suddenly a rather pissed-off voice rang out from the shadows between the mansion and the garden.

"Maybe you should keep your hands off my girlfriend if you want to keep your head," Jace growled, strolling toward us with a façade of calm. But the look in his eyes was dripping with murderous intent, and in a hundred years, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that glare.

The Shadowhunter, whoever he was, stiffened behind me. A fact I almost took as an insult, because people usually saved that kind of reaction for me. Jace was my equal in many areas, even superior in others, but he wasn't better than me. At least when it came to combat.

Was it pride eating away at me? The arrogance of my upbringing? What was it that was bothering me? Part of me wanted to continue my maneuver, to free myself from this idiot who thought a knife to my throat could stop me. Another part wanted to see what Jace would do next. The fact that he had called me his girlfriend in front of all of them played a significant role in that.

Jace knew full well that I could free myself. He didn't look scared or worried, just angry.

My eyes traveled down Jace's body, stopping at his right hand. It was hidden in the shadows of his cloak, so it was hard to make out. With enough attention, the Shadowhunter would have noticed; then he would have noticed the twitch of that very hand. His throwing hand. These were the details that could save your life in the heat of battle.

I ducked a second before Jace's hand darted out. The sensitive skin of my throat scraped against the sharp blade, but the Shadowhunter was already twitching in response to Jace's action. I heard the dagger hiss through the air, could see something silver flash out of the corner of my eye. But I had already squeezed under the arm of the Shadowhunter, whose inner conflict cost him precious breaths as he hesitated between indeed cutting me with his own knife or dodging the other blade.

In the end, he sidestepped, following after me. My boots kicked up dirt as I whirled back to him, landing a blow to his gut that sent him straight into Jace's waiting arms. In the blink of an eye, Jace had him in a tight grip and immobilized.

"I would let go, if I were you," Jace murmured in his ear. The dagger fell from the Shadowhunter's hand.

As Jace held him in check, I quickly retrieved the blade from the dirt and rushed over to Adam and the other wolf. Instead of threatening to slit his throat, I put its tip directly to his neck. His clawed, blood-smeared hand immediately froze in the air. It didn't take much more than that to get him off Adam. I pushed myself between the two of them. Now, with a weapon in my hands, the wolf had lost his advantage. It seemed he came to the same conclusion, because he slowly walked away from us. Over to the other wolf, who had given up his attack first.

Jace removed his strong upper arm from the Shadowhunter's neck and shoved him toward his companions. "Time to leave," he growled, lurking toward me as quiet as a cat but ready to attack as a lion. He twirled the dagger in his hand as if it were nothing more than an old toy — familiar enough that he didn't even need to look, his attention entirely on the three of them

"We have no problem with you two," the Shadowhunter gasped as he rose from the ground. The werewolf who had just beaten Adam gently put an arm around his shoulder. Again, that bond — so atypical for the relationship between Shadowhunters and Shadowworlders — that I nearly leaned in with curiosity. His onyx brown irises slid over Jace and me, settled on Adam and darkened in disgust. "He's a danger to our new world order. He has murdered Shadowworlders and committed treason against the Nephilim. He should die for these crimes!"

"The Inquisitor has already decided on his punishment," Jace reminded him. "Vigilantism also goes against our values."

"You twist the world to suit yourself, don't you, Herondale?" the scarred wolf spat at him. "The fact is that your so-called girlfriend killed Blake Ashdown, even though he was defenseless. If that isn't vigilantism, then I don't know what is. Not that I hold it against her. I'm grateful that that bastard's no longer around."

"Then I guess I'm lucky the Clave deemed it self-defense, aren't I?" I laughed humorlessly. My legs carried me closer to them as if by themselves. Unease crept over the Shadowhunter's features. He twitched in the werewolf's arms like prey that sensed danger before it was apparent. "The fact is that Blake Ashdown," my voice trembled as I said his name, and now all three of them backed away from me at once, "slit me open for hours before I slit his throat. Hours during which I was defenseless. And you know what? The way the three of you attack a defenseless, drunken Shadowhunter reminds me a little too much of Blake's methods. So, who are the bad guys here?"

"We're leaving now," the Shadowhunter said through closed lips. They began to retreat without taking their eyes off me. As if they were afraid that I would chase after them otherwise.

Only when their figures had disappeared towards the back entrance did I turn my back to the celebrating crowd. Jace was already crouching over Adam, holding his stele in his hand. I knelt down in the dirt next to them and took note of the result of the past few minutes. Adam's face was covered in blood. The blood flowed from his broken nose and from ugly, cut-like wounds. His jaw wasn't broken, but noticeably swollen. The green of his eyes was barely visible under all of this. Where there was no blood to hide his skin, it had taken on reddish, purple hues. The bruises deformed his features, twisting him into someone else. If I hadn't known it was him, I wouldn't have recognized him.

My fingers trembled with fury as I brushed the hair from his forehead. Everything about it – the blood on his face, the blood on my fingertips, the bare cold earth, the smell of distant alcohol – sent me back in time. "This is going to hurt," I murmured as soothingly as I could muster. My fingers went to his crooked nose and a sound of pain burst from him. "You have to hold still, Adam. I have to fix your nose before Jace applies the Iratze, or it will heal wrong."

I looked at Jace, who was already watching me. The anger had given way to the calm of battle, and I was grateful for that. He nodded at me once, then I gently placed my fingers around Adam's nostrils. His scream was muffled by Jace's hand pressed over his mouth. He writhed like a choking fish as I adjusted the broken bone. He blinked back tears, but I didn't flinch. He would thank me later. My eyes met Jace's in affirmation, and he began to draw.

It was over so quickly that Adam's next pained sound stopped before he had even forced it out of his throat. The cuts closed, the bruises subsided, the blood stopped flowing, his nose healed, the alcohol fog in front of his pupils disappeared. Only the blood that had already been spilled remained. And a few barely perceptible shadows on his face that would be history by tomorrow.

Adam gasped, coughed, and finally sat up. Jace and I moved with him. For a moment, neither of us said anything, just stared at each other. Until Adam's gaze caught mine. He seemed to be looking for something and I wasn't sure what he found. Finally, he reached for my hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly. The burden of the past few hours, the guilt, had returned to his tone. "You're the last person who should defend me from something like this."

"This is nothing," I remarked, trying to sound amused. I removed his fingers from mine, got to my feet and held out my hand. He took it thoughtfully and pulled himself up. "I almost fell to my death because of you today. For that stunt up there, you should really down the whole bottle according to your rules."

A half-smile tugged at the corner of Adam's mouth. "I owe you one."

"You bet," I replied with a snort. And suddenly I actually had to grin. "I can even think of one thing you could do to pay off any debt."

Adam raised his brown eyebrows expectantly and nodded eagerly, brushing dirt off his clothes at the same time. "Anything you want."

"The velvet armchair from your living room," I said calmly. "Give me the armchair and we'll call it even."

At first his eyes widened in astonishment. As if he was afraid he had misunderstood me. But when he saw my seriousness, his smile grew. "It's yours."

We shook hands on our business and Adam started to laugh. "If I had known you were materialistic, I might have taken advantage of that earlier."

I shrugged. Up until now, I hadn't needed much to live. Only gradually did I begin to broaden my horizons; to think about what I actually wanted, apart from peace. That was probably Isabelle's influence. "Go inside and wash your face, Adam. This is a party, not a cemetery."

Adam disappeared with a grin, although the emptiness in his eyes was still visible. There was no trace of the carefully constructed facade around his emotions. Only when he was gone did I realize that I was now alone with Jace. I turned to him, half expecting him to be gone. But he was still standing exactly where he had been, the stele still in his hand and his non-revealing gaze fixed on me.

There's always something standing in Jace's way to get to Clary. This chapter was pure chaos. Tell me what you think!

Skyllen :)