Chapter Four

"Done!" said Clary proudly, slamming a stack of papers down on the table. Jace jumped and looked over at her from where he was working at the desk. Clary snagged the stapler from him and stuck the papers into it.

"I don't think—" Jace began, but Clary hit the stapler hard with her fist and pulled the papers back out; miraculously, the staple had actually gone all the way through, despite the stack being about half an inch thick. "Huh," he said, impressed.

Clary went over to the filing cabinet and tucked the papers neatly into a slot. "We might actually get this all done by the end of the week," she said.

"Speak for yourself," said Jace ruefully, gazing hopelessly at his portion of work, which was now significantly higher than Clary's. "Well, you've probably earned a break," he said, smiling at Clary. "Have you eaten yet?"

She looked at him sharply. "Why would you ask me that?"

Jace was confused. "I—"

"I'm fine, okay?" Clary snapped. "I don't need to be taken care of."

"I just meant you skipped lunch to work," Jace said, taken aback. "I didn't say it because you're—" Clary's eyes flashed dangerously. "Never mind," Jace muttered. "Look, there's some leftover pasta in the fridge, will you eat it?"

"Don't coddle me, Jace," said Clary, folding her arms tightly.

"I'm not!" Jace said exasperatedly. "I'm just—"

"You know, actually, I am a little hungry." Clary was suddenly calm, her tone perfectly normal. "I think I'll heat something up and eat in here, I can help sort some of your stuff out."

And she was gone before Jace could reply. He sighed and slumped in his chair, feeling drained. He wasn't surprised by Clary's behavior; she had been acting like this ever since they had learned she was pregnant again two weeks ago.

The day after they found out, Jace had woken up early only to find Clary already awake, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey," he had said. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah."

He could tell by the dark circles under her eyes that this wasn't true (and he wondered if she had slept at all), but he let it slide. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine," she replied tonelessly.

Jace touched her hand. "Do you want to talk about—"

She swung her legs out of bed and stood up so quickly that he blinked at her, still bleary from sleep. "I'm going to make a cup of coffee. And I think Lexie might be up. I'll go check."

"Clary, I think we should—"

But she had already left.

In the next few days, any time Jace tried to bring up the pregnancy, Clary had found some way to change the subject or some excuse to leave the room. Sometimes she would ignore Jace entirely if he tried to say something about it. If she woke from a nightmare, which was beginning to happen more frequently again, she refused to answer Jace's questions and simply went back to sleep. She seemed determined to spend the next several months in complete and utter denial.

Clary came back in, holding a steaming bowl of pasta; Jace hastily tried to make it look like he had been working and not worrying about her.

"What are you working on?" she asked through a mouthful, leaning over the desk. She frowned and picked something up. "Are you going over these murders again?"

"What?" Jace looked up; she was holding a photo from the murder of Johanna Price. She had taken the news of the second murder about as well as she was taking the pregnancy—that is, she gave no indication that it had affected her at all. She made no mention of her dream or Leviathan, only noted unconcernedly that there was very little evidence to go on. "I wasn't working on that," Jace said now.

"Really?" Clary fixed him with a glare. "Or is it just that you don't think I can handle it?"

"Clary," Jace sighed, "I—"

"Well, how about I take this case?" Clary said. She snatched the file off the desk and took it over to the long table, plopping her bowl down next to it. Then she sat down with her back firmly to Jace and leaned forward, taking another bite of her food as she began to examine the file.

Jace drew in a breath, knowing he was about to take a risk. "You know," he began carefully, "it would probably be helpful for Magnus and Alec to know Leviathan was behind those."

Clary froze, her fork hovering above her bowl. "Well," she said in a measured tone, "if we tell them that, then they'll ask how I know."

"So maybe we tell them," Jace suggested. "Would it be so terrible?"

"Is Lexie awake?" Clary asked suddenly. She seized the baby monitor and squinted at the screen. "I think I'd better go check on her." And she abandoned both her dinner and the case, speeding once more out of the library.

Jace flung his pen down, seething. He didn't understand how Clary could be so uncaring about the pregnancy. All he wanted to do was celebrate the fact that they were about to have another baby, and imagine Lexie playing with her little sibling, and enjoy this pregnancy the way they had hardly been able to with her last one...

But then he remembered how broken she had seemed the day they had found out. He remembered how her pregnancy had allowed her to be tortured for weeks, and how she had almost lost Lexie, and how she had had to give birth in a frightening, unfamiliar world all alone. Who was he to judge how she dealt with this? As much as he tried to listen to her and help her through her panic attacks, he would never really understand what she had gone through.

Rubbing his temples, he took a leaf out of Clary's book and pushed his thoughts of her and the pregnancy into a small room in his mind, locking the door. He shook his hair back, picked up his pen, and got back to work.

By the time Clary returned downstairs, it was nearly ten o'clock. Lexie was still asleep, of course; Clary had simply stood in the doorway for several long minutes, watching her daughter sleep peacefully. Lexie was still on her mind as she exited the elevator into the hallway. Clary suddenly wondered if the windows in the nursery were locked—should she go back up and check?

And the child? Who is it?

Can't you guess?

No, thought Clary firmly. You're not thinking about that. She's fine.

Knowing the amount of work left in the library, she thought to make a cup of coffee. But when she entered the kitchen, there was already someone there, rooting through the cabinets. Clary nearly jumped a mile before she saw who it was.

"Isabelle!" she said angrily. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry." Isabelle turned around; she looked drawn, her eyes puffy and red.

Clary's irritation dissipated immediately. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

"I want a drink," said Isabelle without preamble.

Clary pursed her lips. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she said. "I thought you were trying to—"

"Well, seeing as I am decidedly not pregnant right now, I would really, really like a drink," Isabelle said heatedly. "Please," she added as an afterthought.

"Well," said Clary uncertainly, "if you're sure..."

Isabelle continued to open cupboards until she found the liquor cabinet. "Jeez, I forgot you guys have awful taste," she said, wrinkling her nose as she peered into the cupboard. She pulled out a bottle of gin. "This'll do, I guess." She straightened and took down two glasses from another cabinet. "Come on, let's sit down, I'll pour you one."

"Um—no, thanks," said Clary.

Isabelle glared at her. "Clary," she said in a measured tone, "I'm pissed off and tired and I could really use a drinking buddy right now, so will you please just have a drink with me?"

"I'm really not in the mood..."

Isabelle waved a hand dismissively. "There's never a wrong mood to drink in."

"But—I'm still nursing Lexie," Clary said, though she wasn't.

"Pump and dump," Isabelle replied promptly.

"Izzy," Clary snapped, "I can't drink, okay?"

"Why not?"

"Because—"

She cut herself off, swallowing, but it was too late; she could see the realization in Isabelle's eyes. Clary braced herself for the inevitable explosion, but Izzy only stared at her for what felt like a full minute.

"Seriously?" she said finally. "Seriously?" She stormed over to the table, threw herself into a chair, and took a hard swig from the bottle. "You weren't even trying, were you?" she spat.

"No," Clary admitted, sitting down across from her. "I'm really sorry, Izzy," she said in a rush. "If I could switch places with you, I swear I'd do it in a heartbeat."

This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Isabelle slammed the bottle on the table. "Seriously?" she demanded. "You don't even want it? How could you be so freaking ungrateful?"

"I'm not ungrateful," said Clary sharply. "But my last..." She swallowed again. "The last time I did this wasn't exactly easy, so excuse me if I'm not jumping for joy at the prospect of doing it again."

"You should be," Isabelle said acidly. "Not everyone is as lucky as you."

Clary caught her breath. "Lucky?" she said quietly.

Isabelle's expression softened slightly. She tipped the bottle back again. "I'm sorry," she said. "That wasn't...I'm sorry."

They sat there in silence for a while, Isabelle rolling the bottle between her palms. At last, she said in a small voice, "I just...really thought it would have happened by now."

"It hasn't been that long," Clary said, seizing on the topic change. "I'm sure it'll happen, Izzy. These things take time. For most people," she added wearily.

Isabelle sipped quietly for a moment. Then she gave a humorless laugh. "Last time we did this, I was so against getting pregnant. I guess this is what I deserve."

"Izzy," said Clary patiently, "I said it then and I'll say it again: you were allowed to feel the way you did. And just because you didn't want it then, doesn't mean you can't want it now. You changed your mind, it's as simple as that. You weren't ready then."

"I know," Isabelle sighed. "But honestly, I'm about ready to give up. I mean, it's exhausting. I never thought I'd be bored of sex, but we've been going at it like rabbits" (Clary grimaced) "and I'm just so worn out. It's like a chore now." She blew into the bottle; it made a sound like a flute. "What's the point anymore? Clearly I'm just not meant to have a baby."

"That's not true," Clary said gently. "Just because it hasn't happened yet, doesn't mean it can't at all."

"Well..." Isabelle trailed off.

"What?" said Clary curiously.

Isabelle avoided eye contact. "Nothing. Just...I know I can get pregnant. At least, I know it's possible."

"What do you mean?"

She drew in a breath. "I know I can get pregnant because...because I did get pregnant. It just...didn't stick."

"Oh," Clary breathed.

Isabelle took another drink. "It's fine. I wasn't that far along. Only a few weeks."

"When did this happen?" Clary asked.

"A couple months ago." Her voice was dull, and her nails clinked against the bottle as she tapped it.

"I wish you'd told me," said Clary softly.

She shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. We found out I was pregnant, and then a few days later, I...wasn't anymore. So that was that."

"I'm sorry," Clary said. "It—it must have been awful." A memory came to her of collapsing in the library, holding the Pyxis. She winced and pushed the thought back into the recesses of her mind.

"You okay?" said Isabelle, watching her.

"Yeah." She shook her head to clear it. "I should be asking you that."

"I'm okay," Isabelle said, smiling half-heartedly. "I'm just...tired." She blinked and looked down at the table, but not before Clary saw that her eyes were shimmering.

"Have you talked to a Silent Brother yet?" Clary asked gently.

"No," Isabelle sighed. "I think we're both just refusing to admit there's a problem. And we had to stop for a few weeks after the...after I lost it. So that changed the timeline." She stared into the bottle, but she seemed to have lost her taste for it. She screwed the top back on and pushed it aside.

"Maybe..." Clary began hesitantly. "Maybe you should stop trying for a little while. Take a break. Because believe me, pregnancy is hard enough without all this stress leading up to it. When you get pregnant—" She squeezed Isabelle's hand, and Izzy gave a fleeting smile— "you're going to wish you'd enjoyed this time a little more."

"You might be right," Isabelle said.

"And," Clary said, "I think you should really talk to Simon about all this. I'm sure he's feeling the same way."

"I will." Isabelle let out a long breath. "Thanks, Clary."

Clary patted her hand. "Anytime."

Rubbing her temples, Isabelle got up and filled herself a glass of water. "God, I really need to stop drinking like this," she said. "I'm not sixteen anymore." Clary laughed. Izzy sat back down across from her. "Anyway—how are you?"

Clary stopped smiling. "I'm fine," she said shortly.

Isabelle made a sympathetic face. "I really am sorry about what I said earlier. I know this can't be easy for you."

"I don't really want to talk about it," said Clary stiffly.

Isabelle surveyed her, looking very shrewd. "Yeah," she said, "I'm going to guess you've been not talking about it since you found out. Am I right?" Clary tried to respond, but could find no way to refute it. Isabelle smiled softly. "Come on. Talk to me."

"I..." Clary sighed, laying her head in her hands. "Yeah," she said. "It's been hard." Isabelle reached over and rubbed her arm. "Listen, Izzy," Clary said suddenly, pulling away. "You can't tell anyone, okay? Not even Simon."

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because..." She struggled to put her feelings into words. "I want to tell people on my own terms," she said eventually. "I'm not ready for people to start asking questions and talking about it all the time. I just need some time to process it on my own."

"I get it," said Isabelle. "I won't say anything. Not even to Mom, even though she's dying to have another grandbaby."

"She's always dying to have another grandbaby," Clary pointed out.

"True," said Isabelle, laughing. "Anyway, I won't tell her. But you know people are bound to find out at some point. How far along are you, anyway?" she added.

"I'm not actually sure," said Clary. "I think it must still be pretty early."

"Hmm," Isabelle said. "So then it's not too late to...you know. If you want."

Clary stared at her. "I thought your mom said they only do that if your life is in danger."

"Well...there's always those mundane clinics."

"Izzy," Clary hissed. "That's against the law."

"Pfft," said Isabelle, waving a hand. "Since when do we care about breaking the law?"

"Since I became the head of an Institute?"

Isabelle shrugged. "I care more about your well-being than I do about some stupid rule. I mean, no offense, but you really don't seem okay with this."

Clary sighed. "I don't know," she said quietly. "With Lexie, I never even considered it. No matter how hard it got, I knew I wanted her. But now..." She blinked hard, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Anyway," she said briskly, pushing her feelings aside. "It's not an option. So I'm fine. I'll be fine."

Isabelle gave her another surveying look. "Yeah, okay," she said eventually. Her eyes lit up suddenly. "Hey, you know what would make you feel better? Throwing a party!"

"I think that would make you feel better," Clary said.

"So it's decided!" Isabelle said brightly. "We're having a party." She whipped out her phone and began to scroll through her calendar. "What's coming up?" She hummed as she scrolled. "Oh, of course! Lexie's first birthday!"

"Oh." Clary bit her lip. "I don't know. We were just going to have a small get-together. Just family."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You're so boring. But fine, I'll honor your wishes. Just family, but we're still going all out on decorations. Ooh, maybe I can make the cake—"

"No!" Clary blurted. Isabelle looked at her quizzically. "We already picked a place," Clary said hastily. "Cute little shop around the corner. We're trying to support local businesses, you know?"

"That's fair," said Isabelle. Clary let out a breath of relief. "Okay, so the cake's covered, but we'll need a banner and maybe fairy lights—what were you thinking for dress code?"

"Uh...normal?"

"So, like, semi-casual," Isabelle said, taking notes on her phone. "I was thinking party hats too, but they're kind of tacky...although, maybe we should embrace the tackiness? We could get those things you blow into, the noisemaker things—"

"What's all the commotion?"

Jace had joined them. He slid Clary's bowl of pasta in front of her without a word. She glanced at him, but he only gave her a soft smile before directing his attention toward Isabelle.

"We're planning Lexie's birthday party," Isabelle said without looking up from her phone. "What kind of music does she like? Classical? Indie?"

"She's turning one," Clary reminded her. "She likes music from Barney and Disney movies."

Isabelle made a face. "Much like yourselves, your daughter has no taste. We'll do classical. Now, what about location? Obviously, the Institute is easiest, but we could also do Central Park—oh, balloons! We definitely need balloons..."

It took Isabelle all month to plan the party, despite Clary's many reminders that this was meant to be a small, low-key gathering. By the time March rolled around, Isabelle had assured Clary and Jace that everything was in place, though neither of them was quite sure what that meant.

The night before Lexie's birthday, Clary went to bed with a strange squirming sensation in her stomach. She was dreading the next day; of course she was excited that her daughter was a year old, but it was bringing up all her memories of Lexie's birth, and as much as she wanted to be happy, she only felt more and more apprehensive as the hour drew nearer.

So it was no surprise that as soon as she fell asleep, she found herself in a nightmare. She was alone in that cave again...outside, she heard Jace scream, and the unmistakable sound of flesh tearing, and she knew he was dead...she wanted to go to him, but pain overtook her, the worst pain she had ever felt, and the baby stopped moving inside her as she bled out onto the floor—

Clary's eyes snapped open, her body convulsing with terror. Her stomach lurched—she flung herself out of bed and ran across the hall to the bathroom, where she vomited into the toilet. She was trembling; her body heaved and expelled everything in her stomach as she tried to push the dream out of her head, tried to stop replaying it...

"Hey." She felt a gentle hand on her back as she finally stopped throwing up. She managed to tuck the memories away, drawing in a steadying breath as she focused on the tiles of the bathroom floor. "Morning sickness?"

She shook her head and flushed the toilet. "Nightmare." She got to her feet slowly, her legs still wobbling, and went to the sink without looking at Jace, though she could feel his eyes on her. He continued to watch her as she grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste onto it. "Is Lexie up?" she asked.

"Not yet." He touched her shoulder, but she moved away and began to brush her teeth, and his hand dropped to his side. "Are you going to be okay today?" She nodded, scrubbing vigorously at her teeth. "I know it's...I know it's probably going to be hard—"

She spat into the sink and ran the water so loudly that she could no longer hear what he was saying. "Clary," Jace said loudly, but she took a long time to swish water in her mouth and rinse her brush thoroughly. "Clary," he said again.

She could find no other reason to delay the conversation. She shut the water off and finally turned to look at him; he still looked rumpled from sleep, and she felt a pang of guilt for waking him.

"What?" she said softly.

He took her hand; she let him. "Can we talk about this?" he said. "Can you tell me what you're feeling?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Really. I..." She exhaled. "It's Lexie's first birthday. It's supposed to be a good day. So I'm not going to make it about me, okay? That's not—I don't want—" She pulled away from him and began to yank her hair viciously into a bun, struggling to find the words. "I want it to be a good day," she said. "I don't want to ruin it."

Jace reached for her. "You wouldn't be—"

"Stop!" He stepped back, looking alarmed. "I don't want to talk about this, I don't—" Clary pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, shoving all of her tangled feelings deep down inside her. "I'm going to check on Lexie," she said, pushing past him.

"Wait—"

She left him behind and went into Lexie's room; Lexie was already awake, looking up at her mobile; the herons on it tinkled as it moved slightly from the force of the door opening. Lexie caught sight of Clary and reached for her, cooing.

"Good morning, birthday girl!" Clary said, picking Lexie up. "How's my baby?"

"Mama!" Lexie tugged on Clary's sleeve. "Mama, Dada?"

"We can see Daddy later—"

"I'm here," said Jace, coming into the room. "Happy birthday, princess!" He lifted Lexie into the air; she squealed and flailed her arms and legs. "You're a whole year old, Lexie! When did you get so big? Ow—ow, hair—"

Lexie giggled; Jace had held her in the perfect position for her to grab a chunk of his hair. He lowered her back into his arms, wincing as she released his hair and seized his cheeks instead.

"Shu ee geh bre-fas star-ed?" Jace asked as Lexie tugged his cheeks in and out.

Clary laughed. "Sure. Why don't you get her changed, and I'll warm up a bottle for her."

"Okay," Jace gasped, massaging his face as Lexie let it go. Clary moved toward the door. "And Clary—"

She turned back, warily. "We don't have to talk," he said softly, "but if you want to, I'm here. Okay?"

She nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her; Lexie's delighted laughs filtered through it, and she smiled at the sound.

I couldn't touch her even if I wanted to...although, I suppose if I were to get out...

Clary squeezed her shaking hands into fists. Not today, she thought. Today is for Lexie. I will not ruin it. And she pushed Leviathan's voice firmly out of her mind and headed downstairs.

A few hours later, Isabelle appeared in the entrance hall laden with about fifteen plastic bags stuffed with party supplies.

"This is not what we agreed on, Izzy!" said Clary, hurrying to catch some of the bags before they could fall off Isabelle's arms.

"I warned you I was going all out," Isabelle said with dignity, though she sounded out of breath. She hoisted the remaining bags up. "Come on, we're setting up in the dining room."

They rarely used the formal dining room in the Institute, so its long table and chairs were coated in a fine layer of dust, and heavy curtains were drawn across all the windows. Isabelle got straight to work; she whipped the curtains open, blinding Clary with the sudden sunlight, and began rummaging in the bags.

"Grab a wipe or something," she ordered Clary, "and start cleaning this place up while I decorate."

Over the next hour, they wiped the furniture down so that it gleamed, hung streamers and tiny fairy lights around the whole room, filled balloons with helium, laid the table with a gold runner and plates of snacks, and finally, tacked a banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEXIE! over the head of the table. Clary leaned against a chair, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"I think that's everything," said Isabelle, balling up all her plastic bags and tucking them neatly into an empty cabinet. "We still need to bring Lexie's high chair in here—oh," she said, glancing at Clary. "I guess I should probably do that. No heavy lifting and all." She searched Clary's face. "How are you doing, anyway?"

"I'm fine," Clary said. "Today's not about me."

"Yeah, but—"

"Thanks for doing all of this, Izzy," Clary said loudly.

Isabelle gave her a pointed look, but said, "It was nothing. You know I love party-planning. And we're done ahead of schedule too! When does Lexie get up from her nap?"

"In about fifteen minutes," said Clary. "People should be showing up soon, though. And Jace went to pick up the cake—"

"The cake has arrived!" Jace announced, entering with a large white box. He set it down on the table and opened it; inside was a simple, round yellow cake with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles around the edges. The baker had written Happy 1st Birthday, Lexie! with pink icing in a smooth cursive script across the top.

"It's perfect!" said Isabelle delightedly. "I probably couldn't have made one look that good." Clary and Jace looked away from each other quickly, both hiding smiles. "Clary, let's put it in the fridge, and I'll grab the high chair..."

By the time they returned, Simon and Maryse had arrived, both holding presents. Jace was talking to them across the room.

"Presents at the end of the table," said Isabelle, plunking the high chair down below the banner, "and Simon, did you bring the speaker?"

"Uh..."

"Simon!" Isabelle said exasperatedly. "You had one job!"

"Wait, wait, I put it in here..." He rooted around in the gift bag and triumphantly pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker. "Oh, ye of little faith," he told Isabelle smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you for doing the one thing I asked you to," she said teasingly. She kissed him on the cheek, plucked the speaker out of his hands, and tapped on her phone. Jovial piano music filled the room. "Let the party begin!"

"The party can't begin until the guest of honor arrives," Maryse reminded her. "Where's the birthday girl?"

At that moment, the baby monitor on the table crackled, and a tiny voice called through it, "Mama! Maaamaaaa!"

"Aw," Maryse sighed. "She's adorable."

"Less so when she starts yelling for us in the middle of the night," said Clary, laughing. "I'll go get her."

When Clary returned a few minutes later with a well-rested Lexie on her hip, Jocelyn and Luke had joined the group. There was a loud chorus of greetings as Clary entered. Lexie clapped her hands and said, "Eeeee!"

Maryse whisked her out of Clary's arms. "Happy birthday, sweetie-pie!" Jocelyn and Luke descended on Lexie too, cooing over her; she looked very pleased by all the attention.

Clary found her way to Jace. He was arranging the presents at the end of the table, and Clary was relieved to see that no one (meaning Maryse) had gone too overboard with the gifts; they were all relatively small. She scanned the room. "Where are Alec and Magnus and the kids?" she asked Jace.

He shrugged, glancing at his phone. "Maybe they're running late."

Across the room, Lexie had been placed in her high chair and was now playing peek-a-boo with Isabelle. "Can you say 'Auntie'?" Isabelle put her hands over her face, then opened them. "Peek-a-boo! It's Auntie Izzy!"

"Ah-tee!" Lexie said, grabbing at Isabelle's hands.

"That counts!" said Isabelle triumphantly. The noise at the end of the room was mounting as the others laughed and talked, swarming around Lexie.

Demons screeching—

"Clary, come over here!"

—a low, deadly chuckle—

"Clary?"

She suddenly found herself in the hallway, her back pressed to the wall as she clutched at her chest, struggling to draw breath. Distantly, she heard Jace say, "I think she just needs some air." Then he was there, taking her hands. "Clary, breathe," he said in a low voice. "Breathe. It's okay."

She slid down the wall, ripping her hands out of his grip and digging her nails into her skull instead. She wasn't aware if it was causing her pain; she seemed to be in two worlds at once, the rust-red landscape overlaying the hall of the Institute as if she could see through it. Jace was in front of her, still talking to her, but he was also in the distance slashing out at demons and staggering against the cliffside...

"Oh God," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. Both worlds gave way to blissful darkness, though she was certain she could still hear demons shrieking. She curled up as small as she could in the hopes that they would leave her alone—

"I'm not leaving you," said Jace, and she realized she had been moaning, "Leave me alone, leave me alone..." over and over. "Whatever you're seeing, it's not real, Clary. This is real. You and me, right here. Look at me."

She cracked her eyes open. The red world was gone, and she was shivering in the hallway, crammed into a corner. Jace was looking at her with a reassuring smile. "That's it," he said soothingly. "See? You're safe. Everything's okay."

"Everything's not okay!" Clary burst out. "This is exactly what I didn't want—" She tried to push herself to her feet, but her legs were still shaking; Jace caught her and eased her back to the ground.

"So then talk to me," said Jace gently. "You know it's always better when you talk about it."

She drew her knees up, pressed her eyes into them, and counted slowly to ten. "I'm fine," she said at last, and was relieved to hear that her voice had stopped trembling. "It was the noise. It made me—it reminded me of the demons. That's all."

Jace said nothing. When she raised her head, he was looking at her with an expression of concern. "If you want to cancel the party—"

"No," said Clary forcefully. "We're not canceling. It's Lexie's first birthday."

"Exactly," Jace said. "She won't remember it anyway. So if this is too much for you—"

"I'm fine," Clary said again, firmly. She got to her feet, and this time Jace let her. "Let's just focus on Lexie, okay?" She looked around, a little disoriented; she hadn't realized how far she had run from the dining room.

"Clary, I really think we should talk about this," said Jace quietly. "And not just this, everything. The preg—"

"I don't feel like talking," Clary said, interrupting him. "Thank you for helping me. I appreciate it."

"You don't have to..."

But she was already walking away from him, still blocking out memories of the red world—and blocking out Jace calling after her.

"By the Angel, we're so late—Rafael Santiago Lightwood-Bane, put the broom down—Magnus, have you seen my scarf?"

"I have it," said Magnus, emerging from the bedroom and narrowly avoiding getting knocked over by Max, who was being pursued by his brother; Rafael was still trying to whack Max with the broom. Alec had lost track of the argument, but he thought it had something to do with Max peeking at Rafe's journal. As Rafael tore past Magnus, Magnus snatched the broom out of his hands. Max dashed around the room and hid behind Alec's legs.

"Tell Rafe not to hit!" he wailed.

"Tell Max to stop poking around in my stuff!" Rafael shouted, struggling as Magnus held him back from chasing after Max again.

"Boys, enough!" Alec said, exasperated. "Look, you're both getting a lecture tonight, but right now, we're late to Lexie's birthday party. So get your coats on, and I don't want to hear another word about this."

Both scowling deeply, Max and Rafael trudged to their room, elbowing each other surreptitiously. Alec blew out a breath.

"They'll get over it," Magnus said bracingly, wrapping the scarf around Alec's neck. "Just kids being kids."

Alec managed a weary smile. "I'll be glad when they're older and we can laugh about when they used to be so immature."

Magnus chuckled and kissed Alec on the cheek. "Mark my words, we'll miss these days. Max, Rafe!" he added, calling down the hall. "We're leaving without you! You're going to miss the party!"

"Wait!" the boys shouted in chorus.

Alec caught on. "We're going out the door!" he said. "Three...two...one..."

He swung the door open, knowing the sound would make the kids come running—but someone was on the other side. It was a tall, dark-skinned man—a faerie, Alec noted, judging by his pointed ears and slender frame. His dark eyes were unreadable as he gave a small bow, his long purple robe grazing the floor.

"Alec Lightwood," he said, his voice quiet and serious. "My name is Adrastos. I have information I think you will want to hear."