Chapter Three

It was looking like it was going to be a long night. Clary set her pen down and massaged her neck, wincing. Jace was currently upstairs trying to put Lexie to bed; Clary didn't envy him the task, given that Lexie was being more fussy than usual today, but that left Clary to tackle a stack of files roughly the size of a Behemoth demon alone. The desk had been overtaken by them, so Clary was sitting at the long table in the library instead with a selection of papers. The new year always meant paperwork, and a lot of it: the previous year's reports needed to be analyzed, Conclave dates set and confirmed, and contact information of local Nephilim and Downworlders updated, among various other menial tasks. Over two weeks into January, Clary and Jace had hardly scratched the surface.

Well, Clary thought, sitting here feeling sorry for herself wasn't likely to make the mountain of papers any smaller. She picked up her pen and got back to work. The report she was making notes on was remarkably dull, and her concentration certainly wasn't helped by the sound of Lexie crying. Clary's heart constricted, as it always did when Lexie was upset, but she knew Jace could calm her down. She got up and was halfway across the room to turn off the baby monitor when she realized that it was already off, and that the crying was getting louder. A moment after she arrived at this realization, Jace came into the library with Lexie on his hip.

"I can't get her down," he said wearily. "I think she might be teething. And she keeps asking for you."

"What do you mean, asking for me?"

"Mama," Lexie whimpered.

Jace smiled, though he looked tired. "I wish she could've said it for the first time when she was happier."

"Aw, sweetheart..." Clary went over and gathered Lexie into her arms. She curled up against Clary, snuffling. "Mama's here," said Clary soothingly, stroking her daughter's back. "I think there's a teething ring in the fridge," she added to Jace. He nodded and left the room. Clary bounced Lexie gently, humming to her. Just as it seemed that Lexie was calming, the phone went off with an earsplitting ring. Lexie began to cry again.

"Damn it," Clary muttered under her breath. Still holding Lexie, she went over to the phone and picked it up. "New York Institute," she said, trying to lean away from Lexie so she could hear the caller over Lexie's wails.

"Hi," said an unfamiliar voice—female, and quite young. "I'm Cat—I mean, Catherine—shoot, am I supposed to be formal?" This last seemed to be directed at someone else, judging by the decrease in volume and the unintelligible murmuring that followed. "Greetings," the girl said into the phone. "I am Catherine McPherson, a member of Maia Roberts's pack. She asked me to report a body behind our headquarters."

"Is everyone in your pack accounted for?" Clary asked as Lexie screamed in her free ear.

"Sorry, what did you say?" said Cat loudly.

Clary tried to repeat the question, but Lexie's cries had reached such a volume that Clary's head was throbbing. Luckily, Jace came back in at that moment, holding a bobbly purple ring made out of silicone. He quickly lifted Lexie out of Clary's arms and put the ring in Lexie's mouth. She quieted immediately, gnawing on the ring.

"Sorry about that," Clary said. "I asked if everyone in your pack was accounted for when you found the body."

"Um..." There was a muffled whisper on the other end. "Yes, ma'am, it definitely wasn't any of us. And I'm pretty sure—I mean, I am confident none of us killed her, either."

"Okay," said Clary, "we'll send someone over to investigate soon. In the meantime, tell Maia to make sure the pack is safe and the perimeter is secured."

"Will do—I mean, yes, ma'am, I will be certain to relay the message. Good evening to you."

There was a click as Cat hung up. Clary set the phone down, sighing. Lexie sniffled and sucked on her teething ring.

"Do you need to handle that?" Jace asked, nodding at the phone.

She shook her head. "I don't want to leave Lexie while she's like this," she said. "I'll ask Simon and Izzy if they're free."

"Sounds good to me," Jace said, sitting down with Lexie on the couch. "I don't much like the idea of trying to get Lexie to sleep on my own."

Clary shot off a quick text to Simon before collapsing on the couch beside Jace. "I could try nursing her," she offered half-heartedly.

"Do you think it'll work?" Jace asked. Clary shrugged; a few days ago, Lexie had seemed to suddenly lose her taste for Clary's milk. She now only nursed for a few minutes before refusing to take any more, and Clary was sure that within a couple of weeks, she would refuse to nurse at all. The discomfort of having too much milk was doing nothing to improve Clary's mood.

Clary's phone buzzed; she glanced at it. "Great, they have it covered." She tossed her phone aside and flopped back against the couch. "Maybe if we—"

"Wait, shh..."

Clary lifted her head; Lexie's eyelids were drooping, and she sagged against her father's chest. "I can keep working if you want to try to put her down," he whispered. Clary nodded; they carefully transferred Lexie between them. She made a muffled noise and blinked sleepily, still chewing on the ring.

Taking care not to jostle Lexie too much, Clary made her way to the nursery. The elevator was sure to disturb her with its jolting and clanking, so she took the stairs; by the time she reached the room, she was panting slightly. Clearly, she needed to be training more.

She pressed a soft kiss to her daughter's temple and set Lexie down in the crib, covering her with her blanket. Lexie continued to suck on the ring until at last her mouth opened slightly, her body relaxing as she fell asleep. Clary exhaled, folded her arms atop the railing, and propped her chin on them, staring down into the crib. She could have stayed there all night, watching her daughter dream.

But alas, work called. With a great mental effort, Clary straightened and headed back to the library, hoping feebly that they could make a dent in the paperwork before going to bed.

Simon had never seen the pack headquarters so crowded. It seemed that every wolf in Maia's pack had sequestered themselves in the old police station, squeezing between desks and perching on windowsills. Simon had to shout to be heard over the chatter.

"Hey!" The noise died down. "Which one of you called in the body?"

A tiny strawberry-blonde head popped up from behind a desk. "That was me," said the girl. She couldn't have been older than seventeen, and she looked even younger as she hid half her face in her shabby blue scarf.

"Could you show us?" asked Isabelle.

"Um—sure," she said, extricating herself from the crowd. "Come with me."

She led them out behind the station where Maia was waiting for them, sitting on a rickety wooden fence that blocked in a small community garden. Simon could see the shadowed form of the body behind her. "Took you long enough!" Maia said.

"Sorry," the girl mumbled.

"Oh, no, not you, Cat," said Maia kindly. "I was talking to these fools. You can go back inside."

Simon waited until the girl had disappeared into the station before turning to Maia with a grin. "Let me get this straight," he said. "She's a wolf named Cat?"

Maia frowned at him. "She's actually very capable," she said with dignity, "if a bit green. She only joined the pack a couple months ago, but I've been training her up to be my assistant." She sighed. "I feel bad, actually. She's the one who found the body. But something about it was weird..."

"What about this isn't weird?" said Isabelle, jumping the fence and stooping to examine the body. "Mundane," she added. "Looks like she's been dead for a few hours. Not a lot of blood on the ground, so she probably wasn't killed here."

"That makes sense," said Maia. "I thought it must be a body dump. I got back to the station about half an hour ago and I didn't see anything before I went inside. Then, a couple minutes later, Cat goes to put the trash out and finds the body. But I mean, how did someone dump a body and escape unnoticed in the span of two minutes?"

"Maybe they were watching the station," said Simon, "waiting for you to come back."

"Me? Why?"

Simon shrugged. "They might be trying to send you a message. Have you pissed anyone off lately?"

"No," said Maia, folding her arms, "but you're starting to piss me off." Her brow furrowed. "Actually, Lily did mention that she found a body in her territory a couple weeks ago. I should ask her about it." She pulled out her phone and began to text.

Simon started as a something small hit the side of his head. "Hey," said Isabelle, tossing another pebble at his chest. "Are you going to help me examine this lady or what?"

"Sorry," Simon said, laughing. He climbed over the fence and surveyed the area. The vegetation had been crushed and there were drag marks from the scraggly bushes at one edge of the enclosure to the other edge where the body was. The woman's limbs were splayed out, her eyes wide. Blood darkened her blouse, and her sour stench was attracting insects. Simon batted a fly away from his ear. "Gross," he decided.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "What an astute observation," she said. "Come on, give me some light."

Simon turned the flashlight of his phone on—and recoiled, his stomach turning over.

The woman's ribs shone stark-white, jagged edges protruding from her chest. Black blood pooled in the cavity where her heart should have been. Isabelle stood, looking sick.

"Gross," Maia agreed. "I'm gonna let you two handle this." She hopped off the fence and was heading toward the station when her phone chimed. She stopped in her tracks. "Oh no," she said. "Oh no, no, no. This is bad."

"What?"

She came back over. "Lily says her victim was missing his heart. This can't be a coincidence."

"Definitely not," said Isabelle, her tone full of concern. "You'd have to ask Magnus, but this seems ritualistic. And it looks like they're specifically trying to get the attention of Downworld leaders, which is worrisome in and of itself."

"I'm going to call an emergency Alliance meeting," said Maia, already tapping on her phone.

Isabelle said something, but Simon was distracted; something was glimmering in the bushes. He went over to them and crouched down. The ground was littered with leaves, but one of them was different. It was glossier, shimmering in unnatural shades of blue and silver. He picked it up, running his fingers over it; they caught on the resinous surface. Simon went back over to Maia and Isabelle.

"What's that?" Maia asked. Simon held up the leaf. Maia looked unimpressed. "Great job. You found a leaf in a pile of leaves. Man, Shadowhunters really are overrated, aren't they?"

"No, hang on," said Isabelle, examining the leaf. "This isn't from around here." She held it up; in the glow of the streetlight, the leaf seemed to shift colors intensely. "It's definitely magical in origin, but I don't know where it's from. Magnus might, though."

Maia took the leaf and tucked it into her pocket. "Okay, I don't like this at all," she said. "We'd better get to the bottom of this before—"

She broke off as flashing red and blue lights suddenly flooded the street, heralded by police sirens. Maia swore under her breath and took off; Simon and Isabelle followed hot on her heels. They managed to make it through the door of the station just in time. Heavy boots clomped past the door, and the three of them elbowed their way through the crowd of werewolves to the window. Simon cracked the blinds open; police officers swarmed the body, completely obscuring it from his view.

"Damn it," he said, letting the blinds close. "We should've taken pictures."

"I'm sure this'll be all over the news tomorrow," said Maia. "The mundanes are going to have a field day with this." She tugged on a piece of her hair irritably. "I think we'll just have to wait until they finish up and hope they leave something behind for us."

Isabelle caught Simon's eye and looked meaningfully down at her watch. Quickly, he said, "That could take hours, and it's a long shot anyway."

"It's still a shot," Maia argued. "Lily didn't get enough time to examine the last crime scene either before the police showed up. The leaf is a start, but we need a real lead if we're going to figure out who's behind this."

"Yeah, but—"

"What's the problem here?" Maia demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "Isn't it kind of your job to investigate this stuff?"

"Well..." Simon and Isabelle exchanged a look. "To be honest," said Simon, "we were kind of, uh, in the middle of something when we got called in."

Maia looked between them, confused. "In the middle of—" She cut herself off, gagging. "Ew. Ew. I did not need to know that."

Simon felt his cheeks warm. "I didn't say anything!" he said defensively.

Maia grimaced. "You didn't have to. It's all over your face." She sighed. "Look, I have to meet with the Alliance, but I guess Cat and the others can look over the area later. They're not as well-trained as you, but they should be able to handle it."

"You know what?" Isabelle said. "We'll stay. You're right, this is our job. It wouldn't be fair to put it all on you."

"Thanks," said Maia. She zipped up her jacket and pulled on a hat. "Keep my pack safe, will you?" she said in an undertone. "I don't like that this happened right in our backyard."

"We won't let anything happen to them," Simon promised. Maia gave a fleeting smile before leaving.

Simon glanced at Isabelle; she was peering through the window, watching the police officers with a distant gaze. "I thought you wanted to get home," he said. "We're kind of on a deadline here."

"I think we've tried enough this month," Isabelle said without looking at him. "Or we'll try again tomorrow. It probably won't make a difference either way."

"Izzy," Simon said softly.

"What, Simon?" She didn't sound angry, only weary and dejected. "Can we just do our job? Please?"

He watched her for a long moment, though she continued to stare out the window. "Yeah, okay," he said eventually. "Just..." He touched her shoulder, turning her gently toward him. "Don't lose hope," he said quietly. "Not yet. Please."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm trying not to," she said. "I think that's the best I can do for now, okay?"

He nodded; together, they turned back to the window and settled in for a long watch.

"So what's the plan?" Maia asked.

She was pacing back and forth across the living room, cracking her knuckles agitatedly. Alec, Magnus, and Lily were seated at the dining table, which was buried beneath dozens of papers and books, along with pictures of the first crime scene.

"Slow down," said Magnus. "We're not even certain what's going on yet."

"I know what's going on!" said Maia heatedly. "Some sicko's murdering people, and they're doing it right under our noses!"

"Well," Lily said peevishly, "it's not like I knew this would happen. You, on the other hand, knew I'd already found a body, so..."

"All right," Magnus said quickly, as Maia drew herself up to retaliate. "Fighting won't get us anywhere. Alec, how's it going?"

"Yes," said Alec vaguely, turning a page. He was only half-paying attention, absorbed in research. The leaf Simon had found was on the table in front of him. He set his book aside and picked up another.

"Okay, so Alec's useless," Maia said. Alec shot her a brief glare before beginning to pore over the book. "Look," Maia went on, "you could be next, Magnus. If they're coming after Downworld leaders, the High Warlock of Brooklyn's got to be on that list."

"No one's coming after us," Magnus said calmly. "They haven't hurt anyone in your pack or Lily's clan—"

"If Cat had been a minute earlier—"

"But she wasn't," said Magnus patiently, "and they probably planned it that way, because this isn't an attack on us." He gestured for Maia to sit; she did, stiffly, next to Lily.

"How do you know?" Lily asked.

"Because I think they're probably Downworlders too," Magnus said. "This looks like the work of warlocks. Human hearts are vital to a lot of dark spells and rituals—"

"Oh, great, so someone's going to set off a crazy spell and blow up New York or something, aren't they?" Maia said.

Lily gave an exasperated sigh. "You are so dramatic."

"And you're being way too cavalier about this!" Maia shot back, pushing herself back to her feet. "If you don't care, just go home!"

"Hey," said Lily sharply, "just because I'm not losing my head, doesn't mean I don't care."

"Losing my head? Excuse me for being worried about—"

"Everyone's worried, we're just not—"

"—some psycho on the streets—"

"—being complete nutcases—"

"I think both of you—"

"Here!" said Alec suddenly, startling them all into silence. He flipped his book around and pushed it across the table, jabbing his finger at an illustration of a vine with iridescent leaves and berries, inked in a silvery blue. "Achlym argentum, also known as silvershadow," he said.

"Why are you so extra?" Maia muttered, plopping back down into her chair.

"Silvershadow?" Lily picked up the leaf. "I don't know," she said, twirling it in her fingers. "It looks more blue to me."

"No, it's kind of silvery from over here," Maia said.

"I didn't name the plant," said Alec, annoyed. "Anyway, it's pretty rare. It's found only in certain parts of Faerie."

"Faerie?" Magnus sounded skeptical. "All the evidence points to warlocks."

Alec shrugged. "I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's silvershadow."

"Odd," said Magnus, but before he could elaborate, there was a knock on the door. Maia jumped. "It's just Eli," Magnus reassured her. "A warlock I'm mentoring. He was supposed to come over to borrow some books, but I forgot to reschedule. I'll make it quick."

He got up and opened the door; Eli bounded in, dressed in his usual eccentric combination of clothing. "Hi!" he said. "I just—" He caught sight of the others. "Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting?"

"Don't worry about it," said Magnus, heading toward the office. "It's just a last-minute Alliance meeting. I'll grab those books for you."

He headed down the hallway, leaving Eli standing in the middle of the living room. "Hi," he said, waving at Maia and Lily. "So you guys are the Alliance? That's so cool! I heard about you and all the work you're doing, I think it's really wonderful, and..." He trailed off, looking between the three of them. "Sorry," he said. "You guys were in the middle of something important, weren't you?"

"Kind of," said Lily. Maia kicked her under the table.

Magnus returned, holding two thick tomes. "Here you go," he said, tipping them into Eli's arms. "I'll see you on Wednesday for our usual session."

"Right," Eli said. "See you." He hovered for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the table, before turning to go.

Alec had a sudden inspiration. "Wait," he said. "Why don't you join us?"

"Wh—me?"

"You said you wanted to learn about Downworld," Alec said. "Maybe you could learn from us. That is, if everyone's okay with it?" he added, looking around the table.

Lily shrugged. "Why not? We could use another warlock voice. Magnus's opinions don't count, because he's married to a Shadowhunter."

"But you listen to my opinions," Alec said.

"Yes," said Lily, nodding emphatically. "I definitely do that."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Maia? Magnus?"

"Sure," said Maia, and Magnus waved his hand, conjuring a fifth chair. Eli dashed over and dropped into it, plunking his books down on the table.

"Thanks! This is so exciting! What are you talking about?"

"There have been two murders with similar M.O.s," Magnus said. "One in Lily's territory, one in Maia's. So far, we don't know much, but we know both victims had their hearts removed."

"Wait," said Eli, "I just read about this! It was that Nyle Reynolds guy a couple weeks ago, and then tonight it was Johanna Price. She just escaped jail, she was convicted of poisoning and killing her husband—" He went pink, seeming to suddenly realize they were all staring at him in surprise. "Sorry. Did I say something wrong?"

"No," said Alec. "We just didn't know who the second victim was until now. Good work, Eli."

Eli blushed deeper, looking pleased. "The mundanes think it's a satanic ritual," he added helpfully.

Lily snorted. "The mundanes think everything is a satanic ritual. It's usually not."

"But we do know that whoever's doing this specifically wants the hearts of murderers," Magnus said musingly. "That does narrow down the list of spells slightly."

"There's something I don't understand, though," said Maia. "Why did the police suddenly show up?"

"They did that with mine too," said Lily irritably. "They said someone had called it in, and they seemed to think it might have been whoever killed him. Maybe that's what happened with yours."

"They did seem to know exactly what they were looking for," Maia said, frowning. "But why would someone report their own crime? And to the mundane police, at that?"

"I have two theories," said Magnus. "One, getting the mundane police involved means we lose access to the body and can't get any clues from it. And two..." He sighed. "I think they want the information to go public that the murderers have been killed. They see what they're doing as justice."

"Isn't it?" Eli said. "I mean, they're killing murderers, right? Objectively bad people. So isn't—" They were all looking at him again, and this time he went scarlet and ducked his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay," Magnus said, smiling at him. "We need perspectives like yours. But ultimately," he added, "it's not for us to decide whether it's justified or not. Our job is to find out who's behind this and stop it from happening again."

"Especially because this all seems to be leading up to some kind of ritual, and we have no idea what the consequences of that will be," Alec said.

"But we don't know how many hearts they need," Lily interjected. "They might already have enough."

"I don't think so," Magnus said. "Two isn't a very powerful number. I think there'll be at least one more, and if we can prevent it or catch them in the act, we should be able to put a stop to this."

"So what evidence have you gathered?" asked Eli. Lily held up the leaf. "Oh. That's it?"

"Well, like we said, the police got in the way," Maia groused. "Simon and Izzy stayed back, though, so hopefully they'll find something once the police are gone."

"Who are Simon and Izzy?"

"Shadowhunters," Alec told Eli. "Isabelle's my sister, and Simon is her husband."

Maia's phone chimed, and she looked at it. "Oh, speak of the devil." She read the text, sighed, and tossed her phone on the table. "There's nothing left," she said dejectedly. "The police took everything important."

"That doesn't mean this is over," Magnus said bracingly. "We have a little bit to go on, so our next steps should be learning more about this plant, and getting more information about the victims. We might even be able to access the police reports if we're careful."

"Cat's pretty good with computers," Maia said. "I'll ask her if she can get into the NYPD database."

"Good," said Magnus. "We can touch base again at our next meeting. Until then, everyone should keep an eye out for anything unusual."

"Including me?" asked Eli tentatively.

"Especially you," Alec said. "The rest of us are well-known, so we're conspicuous. You might be able to get information we can't."

Eli swelled with pride. "I won't let you down!"

They all broke apart, Maia and Lily gathering their things. Eli lingered behind as they waved goodbye and left the apartment. "Thanks again for letting me sit in," he said shyly, hoisting his books into his arms. "It was really helpful."

"Our pleasure," said Alec. He clapped Eli on the shoulder. "Get home safe."

Eli left, closing the door behind him with a soft snap. Alec began to gather up the papers on the table, shuffling them into neat stacks. Magnus picked up a few of the photos, frowning down at them. "Something wrong?" Alec asked.

"I'm not sure yet." Magnus pulled out his phone, tapping something out. Alec knew better than to disturb him when he was in this pensive state, so he continued to clear the table, putting papers into folders and closing books.

Magnus made a noise. Alec looked up at him. "Sorry," said Magnus. "I'm just looking at the news articles for tonight's murder." He set his phone down face-up; the screen showed a picture of the murder scene, zoomed in on the victim's mangled chest. Magnus pulled one of the photos of Reynolds's murder toward him. "Something's off," he said.

"What is it?" Alec came over and looked between the pictures, but whatever Magnus was seeing, Alec didn't see it.

"The way these hearts were removed," said Magnus, "it's...too precise. And the wounds are completely identical."

"And that's unusual?"

Magnus nodded. "Rituals are often very specific, but it's usually hard to decipher them entirely accurately. With something this precise, it should have taken the killers longer to learn exactly what the ritual required. We would have heard about it, if they'd been killing before this and taking hearts. It's like they already knew exactly what to do."

Alec was watching him; Magnus's eyes were darkened, his brow creased. "What does that mean?" Alec asked quietly.

"It means," said Magnus, looking at him, "that someone else is pulling the strings."

Clary knew she was dreaming, but her dreams rarely felt so real, so vivid and alive. She was at the edge of a pavilion; it was a huge square with a carved pyramidal ceiling held up by dozens of thin, square columns. The dark marble beneath her bare feet felt freezing cold.

Beyond the pavilion, the world was gray. A storm was brewing on the horizon; a jagged spear of white lightning shot down through the clouds, illuminating a broken city built of slate-gray stone. Clary would have thought she was dreaming in black and white if not for her own skin and clothes.

"Is it done?"

Clary felt her stomach clench in fear; she pressed her back to one of the columns, her heart beating so fast she thought it might burst. She knew that voice, she had heard it in her nightmares, the low drawl with a wicked edge...

Holding her breath, Clary peered around the edge of the column. A demon stood in the middle of the pavilion. His dark hair was so shiny Clary could almost see the marble pavilion reflected in it, and at twenty feet tall, his head almost touched the ceiling, his horns barely an inch below the lowest point. He had his back to Clary, but she knew his eyes were entirely black, sclera-less; those eyes had haunted her dreams for months.

Leviathan.

"It is done, Master."

The voice that replied was garbled, as if Clary were hearing it through a waterfall. In front of Leviathan, a shadow had appeared, blurred at the edges. The shadow spoke again: "The heart is with my ally. We await your next instructions."

"Good," Leviathan purred. "You have done well thus far, my child."

"I am honored to serve you, Master. Your wish is my command."

"Yes." Leviathan paused. "And how are you feeling about the final step?"

The shadow seemed to hesitate, rippling. "Your wish is my command," it said again, "but I find myself still wary. Are you certain the child—"

"You dare question your master?" said Leviathan quietly. The shadow seemed to shrink. "I am certain. That should be enough for you."

"It is, but—"

"Remember what you are fighting for," Leviathan said. "The child is the avenging Angel come back to earth. To see it as a child is to fall into its trap. You must not let yourself be fooled. When the time comes, you must be decisive."

"I—I understand, Master."

"Good." Leviathan stretched. "I will come to you again soon. Gather your allies, my child. The time approaches."

"Yes, Master."

The shadow dissipated; Leviathan exhaled, then turned his head slightly to one side. "I know you are here, Clary Fairchild."

Clary's heart lurched. Leviathan gave a soft chuckle. "Where are your manners?" he asked scoldingly. "Come out and say hello. After all, I am the one who brought you here."

Clary felt frozen; she didn't know whether to run or face him, but before she could decide, the choice was made for her. Something hooked her around the middle and yanked her out from behind the pillar, dragging her toward the center of the pavilion. She struggled, her feet slipping on the marble floor, but it was no use. Leviathan crooked a finger, pulling her closer to him. The magic deposited her at his feet, and she scrambled up. She felt very small, gazing up at him, and she shrank even smaller as he smiled down at her.

Pull it together, she told herself sharply. You are a Shadowhunter. You are fearless.

She forced herself to straighten. "Who were you talking to?" she demanded, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. "What are you planning?"

Leviathan laughed. "Well, I can't just tell you, can I? No, that would spoil all the fun...I suppose you'll have to wait and see."

"This is about that murder, isn't it?" said Clary. "The stolen heart. It was you."

"In a manner of speaking," Leviathan said, shrugging. "But let's not bore ourselves with talk of business. It's been far too long since I last saw you. Since you banished me from my brother's realm."

His tone was light, humorous even, but his eyes glittered darkly, his gaze burning through Clary.

"I did what I had to," said Clary.

"To save your family, yes," Leviathan drawled. "And how is little Alexandra?"

It felt as if Clary had swallowed an ice cube. Her hands shook, and she balled them into fists at her sides. "You stay away from my daughter."

"Oh, I couldn't touch her even if I wanted to," said Leviathan lightly. "Not after you sent me here...although, I suppose if I were to get out..."

"So that's what you're planning?" Clary said. "You're trying to escape?"

Leviathan's eyes danced. "No spoilers."

"And the child?" Clary said, fearing the answer. "Who is it?"

Leviathan grinned. "Can't you guess?"

The ice that had been keeping Clary frozen in fear seemed to melt; all she felt was a burning hatred toward this demon, this monster. "If you touch a hair on her head," she said in a low, deadly voice, "I'll kill you. And damn the consequences."

Leviathan threw his head back and laughed, a horrible laugh that echoed off the ceiling and floor so it sounded as if there were ten of him, surrounding Clary. "You are pathetic," he sneered. "I can see into your mind, my dear. I can see how terrified you are of me. How you have shriveled since last we met, crippled by your fear..." He grinned at her. "You are weak, Clary Fairchild."

Clary tried not to be affected by his words, but it was difficult when she had thought the very same things herself, every time she had woken from a nightmare screaming like a child or been overtaken by flashbacks, powerless. Leviathan's words echoed in her head, affirming every hateful thought she'd ever had about herself...

But a phrase stuck out to her: I can see into your mind...

A horrible idea occurred to Clary. She looked up at Leviathan. "What did you mean, you brought me here?" she said slowly.

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean you don't know?" he said, sounding amused.

"Know what?" Clary snapped.

"Think," said Leviathan. "How is it possible that I can be in your dreams?"

It all clicked into place. Oh God, Clary thought, her stomach filling with cold dread. Oh God, not again...

Leviathan smiled. "We'll meet again," he said softly. The world tilted—

Clary awoke with a start, her heart pounding. The old burn on her chest was prickling. Slowly, she sat up, trying to calm her breathing. Just a dream...it was just a dream...

Beside her, Jace stirred. "Clary?" he murmured.

She became aware of noise coming from the baby monitor; she swung her legs out of bed and hurried into the next room, hearing the bed creak behind her as Jace followed.

Lexie was awake and fussing in her crib. Clary picked her up, holding her close and burying her face in her daughter's curls. She smelled of baby lotion and something indescribable, that scent that was just so purely Lexie. Clary inhaled deeply, willing her heartbeat to slow.

"Clary," said Jace again, his voice gruff. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Go back to sleep, I'll put her back down."

Lexie reached out to Jace. "Dada," she said, squirming. Jace lifted her out of Clary's arms and settled her on his hip, bouncing her automatically.

"What's wrong?" he asked Clary, his gaze sharp and clear despite the late hour.

"I said it's nothing," Clary said, though her hands were trembling slightly.

"Clary," said Jace softly. "Talk to me."

She closed her eyes and drew in a shaking breath. "I think..." she began, in barely more than a whisper. "I think I might be pregnant."

There was a long silence. When she opened her eyes again, Jace was staring at her, his face pale.

"How do you know?" he said finally.

She twisted her fingers. "I had a dream..."

As Clary explained, Lexie dozed in her father's arms; he set her back down in the crib, tucking her blanket around her as she curled up.

"Clary," he said, straightening, "I think it was just a dream."

She shook her head. "It was real," she said.

"Okay, but you've had real dreams before, right? From Ithuriel," said Jace.

"This was different." Clary wrapped her arms around herself. "I just have a feeling..."

"Even if it was real," Jace said, coming over to her, "it doesn't mean you're pregnant." Clary nodded automatically, dropping her gaze. Jace sighed. "If it's really bothering you, we'll get a test tomorrow," he said. He took her hands and squeezed them. "No use worrying until we know for sure, okay?"

Clary swallowed. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't go through this again." She buried her face in his chest, willing herself not to cry, because if she cried, if she let herself feel it, she might never get control of herself again.

She felt his arms come up around her, encircling her; his body warmed hers. "I really think it was just a dream, Clary," he said gently.

"But what about everything else he said?" said Clary, pushing him back to look at him. "About Lexie?"

"He didn't actually say it was her," Jace said. "Besides," he added with a grin, "look at her. You really think she looks like 'the avenging Angel come back to earth'?" Clary glanced into the crib; Lexie was sucking serenely on her favorite stuffed wolf toy (appropriately named Wolfie) and drooling all over her blanket. "She's normal," Jace said. "Perfectly, completely normal."

"But she's not," Clary insisted. "She has more angel blood than she should. And all those times she could have died while I was pregnant with her—"

"Were the same number of times you could have died," Jace pointed out. "She survived because you did. Not because she has some supernatural power."

"Or maybe," Clary said, "I survived because I was carrying her. Maybe she saved me."

Jace looked doubtful, but he said nothing. Clary shivered; she could almost hear that familiar whisper in her head: Clary...

She swallowed hard. "No use worrying," she repeated hollowly. "Until we know for sure."

Jace touched her cheek lightly. "It'll be okay," he said softly. She nodded; he slipped his hand into hers and led her back to bed.

"Clary? Are you done yet?"

Clary set the stick on the counter, flushed the toilet, and began to wash her hands. "You can come in," she called through the door.

Jace entered the bathroom. "She's asleep," he said, holding up the baby monitor. "Napping like an angel." Clary flinched involuntarily, and Jace pressed his lips together. "How long does it take?" he said quickly.

"Three minutes." She set a timer on her phone and put it face-down on the counter beside the pregnancy test. Then she moved across the bathroom, sitting with her back against the bathtub. Jace sat down beside her.

"You know," he said, "we should really find better condoms." Clary gave a half-hearted laugh. "Are you sure you haven't had any symptoms?" Jace asked.

She thought for a minute. "I don't think so. And I never got my period back after I had Lexie. Apparently breastfeeding can do that sometimes."

"Hmm," said Jace. "So maybe you're not pregnant. I mean, if you haven't felt anything..."

"Don't get my hopes up," Clary said, only half-jokingly. Jace seemed to notice the tension in her voice.

"Would you really not want it?" he asked, surveying her.

She sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just...I don't think I can do this again. If it's anything like last time..."

"Maybe it won't be," Jace said reasonably. "Last time, there was a demon inside the Institute. He was close to you, and he had a reason to hurt you. This isn't the same."

Clary looked at him, chewing her lip. "Would you...would you want it?" she asked tentatively.

Jace drummed his fingers on his knees. "I know you went through hell to have Lexie," he said after a moment. "And I wouldn't ask you to go through that again, if you weren't ready. But...I'd be lying if I said I didn't want another kid. Another little Lexie...or maybe a William..."

"Stop," Clary whispered. Jace went quiet instantly. "I don't want to think about it."

"Okay," said Jace softly. "I'm sorry."

They sat in silence, the only sound an occasional snuffling from the baby monitor. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the timer went off with a loud ringing. Clary shot to her feet, her heart pounding, but the moment she was upright, her feet seemed to glue themselves to the floor. Jace went over to her phone and shut the timer off.

"You want me to look?" he asked. She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a soft scraping noise, then silence. She felt rather than heard Jace approach.

"Clary. Open your eyes."

She opened them, looking down automatically at the test in Jace's hand. The little window in the stick showed one line.

She let out her breath in a rush, sagging against the wall. "Is it horrible that I'm relieved?" she whispered.

"Of course not." Jace set the test down and pulled her into a hug. "See? I told you everything would be fine."

She let out a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around him. They broke apart as noise crackled through the baby monitor; Lexie was crying.

"Come on," Jace said, sliding his hand into hers. "Let's go put the little scamp back to sleep."

Clary gave a feeble laugh and followed him out of the bathroom and into Lexie's nursery. She was sitting up in her crib, clutching the bars as she wailed. The moment she saw her parents, her tears ceased. She grinned at them impishly.

"Naughty girl," Jace said, picking her up and swinging her through the air. She gave a squeal of delight. "You're supposed to be napping," he said, wagging a finger at her disapprovingly. "And we all know how cranky you get when you miss your nap."

"Ba!" said Lexie gleefully, pinching her father's nose closed.

"Alexaddra," Jace said sternly, though it was difficult to take him seriously in such a nasal voice. "You're beigg very bischievous." Lexie let go of his nose and gave a toothy smile, which only grew as Jace tickled her chin.

"You're just waking her up more," Clary said reprovingly as Lexie giggled.

"All right, all right, I'll get her back down," said Jace, kissing Lexie's forehead. "What was that song you played for her the other day? It put her right to sleep."

"Let me find it..." Clary patted her pockets. "Shoot, I left my phone in the bathroom. I'll be right back."

She left him rocking Lexie back and forth and went back across the hall into the bathroom. As she plucked her phone off the counter, she glanced at the pregnancy test—and her heart dropped.

It was faint, but it was there: a second distinct line.

She picked up the test with trembling fingers. Stay calm, she told herself, but it was too late. Suddenly she was in the library, clutching the Pyxis as pain seized her stomach, and then she was in the greenhouse with a knife pointed at her belly, screaming silently inside herself, and she was lying on the floor of the armory with blood spilling between her legs, and she was alone in a cave, wrapped in pain and terror and panic—

The bathroom receded. The pregnancy test fell to the floor with a clatter, but she hardly heard it over the roaring in her ears. She tried to call out for Jace, but her throat seemed to close around the word, and her chest followed suit, and then her whole body was shaking and she couldn't breathe, why couldn't she breathe, why was this happening, why—

Suddenly she was on the floor, and she felt an inch tall, the hallway an entire world around her, stretching to infinity in every direction. The walls were moving—or maybe she was trembling hard enough that the world seemed to vibrate around her. She struggled to draw breath, but all that escaped her was a sob, and her face was warm and wet. Her skin felt like it was on fire and she clawed at herself, curling in as small as she could, trying to stop, trying to think...

"Clary?" said a voice from very far away, echoing in her head. A shadow fell across her vision.

"I can't," she was barely aware of gasping out, "I can't—I can't—"

"Clary," Jace said sharply. She felt him grab her hand and hold on tight even as she fought against him. "Squeeze my hand," he said. "Hard as you can." She squeezed instinctively, gripping as if he were her lifeline. "Breathe." She felt him stroke her hair, and she jumped, a wave of panic shuddering through her body. "Breathe, Clary..." She forced air into her lungs and spat it back out. "You're okay," Jace said soothingly. "This will pass. You're safe, you're okay."

She closed her eyes as the hallway swung around her, her head light, but already her heartbeat was beginning to slow. She exhaled with a whimper and drew in another breath. Breathe, said a voice inside her head, and she grasped onto the coherent thought, repeating it to herself. Breathe.

"Clary," said Jace gently, and the echo in her ears receded. "Tell me five things you can touch."

She knew this exercise; Jace had found it on the internet in the weeks after Lexie's birth, when Clary's panic attacks had been more frequent and vicious. She drew in another breath, willing herself to focus. "Your hand," she said, her voice thin.

"Good. Four more."

Her side felt cold where she was lying down. "The floor..." Her hand moved across it, touching something soft. "My hair..."

"Keep going," Jace said.

"My sh-shirt..." Her voice trembled.

"One more," said Jace.

She opened her eyes, gazing at him where he knelt beside her. She touched his knee. "You," she said.

"Good." He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. "Four things you can see."

She blinked up at him. "Your eyes," she whispered; their pupils were wide, almost eclipsing the gold. She let her gaze travel around the hallway. "Walls...the window...trees..."

"Do you need to keep going?" Jace asked. She shook her head. He sat there in silence with her for a long few minutes as the tension in her body slowly eased, leaving her drained. Eventually, she sat up slowly, her limbs shaking. She felt weak.

"What's going on?" said Jace gently. "You haven't had one that bad in weeks."

Clary opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She pointed wordlessly at the bathroom. Jace squeezed her hand reassuringly before releasing her and going into the room. He reemerged a moment later, holding the pregnancy test.

"Oh, Clary..." he said softly, sitting back down in front of her.

"I can't," she said again, her voice breaking. "I can't do this again. I'm not str-strong enough." She buried her face in her knees, fresh tears pouring down her face. "I don't w—I don't want..."

"You don't want it?" Jace asked quietly.

For a moment, she couldn't answer. "No," she whispered brokenly, and she hated herself because it was true. She wrapped her arms around her knees and dug her nails into the sides of her legs. "It's too soon, and Lexie's so little...and...and I'm scared."

"I know," Jace said. He reached out and loosened her grip. "What do you want to do?"

"What can we do?" she said, raising her head to look at him. "This isn't like last time. There's no direct threat. It's just a...feeling. A possibility. That's not enough."

"So..."

"So," Clary said, taking in a steadying breath. "I think we're having another baby." The words sent a fresh wave of terror through her, but she fought it down, imagining her veins turning to steel, blocking out the panic. "It'll be okay," she said, half to herself.

Jace laid his hand on her cheek. "You are strong enough," he said gently. "You'll get through this. And I'm here for you, every step of the way." He kissed her forehead. "I love you."

She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest. "I love you too."