PART TWO: ICE

Chapter Ten

Broken things rarely looked this beautiful, Alec thought.

The Sanctuary was in ruins. Splintered chairs littered the floor, tables were overturned, their once pristine tablecloths soiled and torn. Alec stared down at the witchlight stones Isabelle had so painstakingly arranged around the dance floor. They were cracked into pieces, and the shards of adamas glowed and shimmered like geodes, still emitting light in fractals.

Alec's ears were still buzzing from the battle, his mind still reeling from how quick it had all been. One moment Isabelle had been giving a toast, and the next, all hell had broken loose. Alec had found himself battling a faerie with nothing more than a dinner knife, but it seemed as soon as it had begun, it stopped. The faerie abandoned the fight, pressed two fingers to his chest, and vanished. They all vanished, leaving the party guests in various states of injury, and Alec standing dumbfounded by the dance floor.

Someone touched his shoulder. He turned. "Magnus," he breathed. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Magnus shook his head and pointed across the room at a small figure crumpled against the wall. "Eli."

They both went to him. Alec knelt and turned Eli onto his back. Blood trickled down the side of his face. "Eli," said Alec gently. "Can you hear me?"

Eli groaned, cracking his eyes open. "Ouch," he mumbled. "What happened?" He tried to sit up; Alec slid an arm behind his shoulders and propped him carefully against the wall.

"Take it easy," he said. "You hit your head pretty hard."

Eli touched his hand to his wound and drew it back, staring at the blood on his fingers. His eyes crossed slightly. "Oh. Oh wow. I feel woozy." Magnus touched a glowing hand to Eli's temple. Eli exhaled. "Thanks. That feels better." He got to his feet, still a little unsteady. "Was it...was that the Scourge?"

"I think so," said Alec, and he glanced at Magnus. He knew what they were both thinking; had the Scourge gotten what they came for? Was that why they had disappeared so suddenly?

There were rapid footsteps behind him. Alec stood as Isabelle and Simon appeared at their side. Simon looked shaken, and Isabelle's dress was torn and she had a small cut on her cheek, but they both looked otherwise unharmed. "I don't believe this," Isabelle said. "How did they get in? Magnus—"

He shook his head. "I don't know. The ward is still up. They shouldn't have been able to break through."

"There must have been—" Isabelle broke off suddenly, her gaze fixed on something behind Alec. "Benji," she said, seething.

"Who?" Alec asked, but Isabelle was already stalking across the room. They all hastily followed her.

"Benji," Isabelle snapped. A young-looking vampire with dark, messy hair and a round face looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor. He wiped dried blood off his forehead with a paper napkin, wincing. "How did you get into the Sanctuary?" Isabelle demanded.

"Ow," said Benji. "Not so loud."

"Answer me," Isabelle snarled.

He squinted up at her. "Lady, I just got conked on the head by a faerie, so can you cool it with the interrogation?"

"No," said Isabelle, placing her hands on her hips. "Answer the damn question."

Benji shifted, sucking his lips. "Okay, this is gonna sound bad—"

"Not a great way to start your defense," Isabelle said. "Unless you're about to turn double-agent for the Scourge."

"I'm not with the Scourge!" Benji squawked. "You think they would've walloped me if I was?"

"It would make a good alibi, wouldn't it?" Isabelle said, glaring at him.

Benji groaned and leaned back against the wall. "Look, I saw a bunch of people going in. They had an invitation they were passing back one at a time. So I just...got in line. And they didn't notice. Now, in retrospect, the hoods and weapons should probably have tipped me off that these were not great people, but I was a little preoccupied with trying to get to the champagne—don't hit me!" he squealed as Isabelle started forward.

Magnus put a hand on Isabelle's arm; she retreated, not taking her gaze off Benji. "Whose invitation was it?" Magnus asked.

Benji shrugged, still eyeing Isabelle warily. "I didn't look at the name. I left it over there, though."

He pointed toward the door. Isabelle gave him one last murderous look before leading the rest of them to the entrance. She stooped and picked up a card. Her expression changed from anger to confusion. "Wait...Eli?"

They all turned to look at him. He had gone pale. "Oh no," he whispered. "Oh no. I must have dropped it. Oh God, this is all my fault..." His eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," said Alec gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It could have happened to anyone."

"But all these people..." Eli's voice shook as he gazed around.

"No one was killed," Magnus said soothingly. "And injuries were minor. I think they just needed a distraction."

"A distraction for..."

Eli trailed off, staring across the room. Alec followed his gaze. Clary and Jace had just pushed through the inner Sanctuary doors, both looking stricken.

"Oh," Eli breathed. "Oh God. I can't be here."

"Eli, wait—" Alec began, but Eli had already turned and taken off through the doors.

"Let him go," Magnus said quietly. "We can check on him later, but we need to deal with this."

Alec knew he was right, but part of him wanted to follow Eli out into the welcoming darkness; he wasn't sure he could bear what came next as they crossed the room toward Clary and Jace, whose hollow faces confirmed what Alec already knew, what he had known from the moment the Scourge vanished.

Lexie was gone.

"We'll find her."

"They can't have gone far, right?"

"I don't know. The rest of them just disappeared. The one I was fighting touched his chest, and then he was gone."

"Orrin did that at the car dealership."

"Some trick Caladrius cooked up, no doubt."

"We'll find her, okay?"

"What about tracking runes?"

"We tried. There's nothing. Just darkness."

"Let me see that. I might be able to try a spell."

"Were there any other clues?"

"Just a note. 'Behold—the day cometh.'"

"I think I've heard that before."

"We'll find her. Clary, are you listening to me?"

Simon's voice swam through her head, just one of many. The library had become a war room—they were all sitting around the long table, talking, strategizing. Clary felt like she was watching the scene from far away. She could almost pretend it was some silly TV show, some work of fiction where everything would turn out fine by the end of the hour, and she was simply an audience member sitting safely in her seat. It was easier to believe that than to acknowledge the reality that Lexie was gone...

She shut the thought down. Better to feel nothing than everything.

"We'll find her," Simon murmured again, but the words had lost all meaning. Clary watched the show.

"Alec, any luck with that quote?" asked Jace.

"Yeah, here," Alec said; he was looking at his phone. "It's from the Bible. Malachi 4:1. 'For, behold, the day cometh, it burneth as a furnace; and all the proud, and all that work wickedness, shall be stubble; and the day that cometh shall burn them up, that it shall leave them neither root nor branch.'"

"Self-righteous bastards," Isabelle muttered.

"What does it mean?" Jocelyn said.

"It means they think they're doing something good, ridding the world of evil," Maryse said, her voice full of disdain. "They want Shadowhunters to know our time is up."

"But this doesn't sound like the Scourge," said Alec. "At least, not what the Scourge claims to be doing. Eli said—"

"Eli?" said Jace. "What does he have to do with this?"

Alec hesitated. "He had a chance to join," he said. "He heard things in the Shadow Market and—"

"Wait," said Isabelle sharply. "Eli could be with the Scourge?"

"He's not," said Alec. "I know he's not."

"So it's just a coincidence that they used his invitation to break in?" Isabelle said, sounding cynical.

"Eli's not part of the Scourge," said Alec firmly. "He wouldn't have joined. Magnus made him promise not to, and he's given us no reason to think he broke that promise. You saw how upset he was about the invitation. I think it really was an accident."

"Are you sure we can trust him?" Isabelle said.

"Yes," said Alec. "Look at how much he's helped us. He gave us a description of Caladrius—"

"A description that's gone nowhere," Luke pointed out.

"The Scourge has been in hiding for four weeks," Alec reminded him. "Caladrius probably knew we were looking for him and went underground with the rest of them. But if Eli's information is good, then we'll find him."

"If," Isabelle repeated.

"Eli's not the problem here," said Jace. "We need to focus. You were saying something about the quote?" he added to Alec.

Alec nodded. "It's not in line with what Eli says the Scourge wants. He said their only goal was to get rid of the Angel, not destroy all Shadowhunters."

"That's what Orrin wants, though," Simon said. "To destroy us all, I mean. He said as much."

"So the note was probably his idea," said Isabelle.

"How does any of this help us find Lexie?" asked Jace.

"Maybe we can track Orrin from the note." Alec held out his hand; Jace placed the miniscule scroll in it. Alec inked a tracking rune onto the back of his hand and closed his eyes.

Across the table, Magnus opened his. The blue glow around Lexie's stuffed wolf dimmed, then went out altogether. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't find her."

A taut silence fell. At last, Jace said hoarsely, "Does that mean—is she—"

"Dead?" The word sent a shiver through Clary's body. "I don't know," Magnus said. "It's possible she's just in a place where we can't track her."

"She can't be dead," Isabelle said. "They couldn't have done the ritual yet. They still need one more heart, remember?"

"What if we miscounted?" Jace's voice was shaking. "Maybe we didn't hear about the last one."

"That's not their M.O.," said Magnus. "They've always wanted us to know who their victims were. And even if they didn't tell us directly, we'd have seen something on the news."

"Unless they decided to be more careful this time," said Jace. "I mean, none of us knew they were planning to take Lexie tonight. So maybe we missed the last killing. It's possible, isn't it?"

Magnus looked away. "It's possible."

Jace sucked in a breath and shot to his feet, his chair nearly tipping over. He twisted his hands in his hair and began to pace. Isabelle went to him; Clary could hear her murmuring reassuringly. She felt the others' gazes on her, as if they expected her to comfort Jace too, or perhaps to break down in sobs. But she could do nothing but watch.

"We don't know she's not alive," Simon said. "We'll find her."

Jace nodded, but even from Clary's distant view, she could see the unbridled terror in his eyes.

And what about you, Clary Fairchild? Are you afraid yet?

Clary's blood ran cold. She had imagined it. Surely she had imagined it.

Rise and fight, Clary. Or do you feel nothing at the loss of your daughter?

As if someone had pulled a curtain across her vision, the library disappeared. She was in a forest clearing, barren ebony trees ringing the area. A pedestal of black stone stood on a dais, in the center of a pentagram drawn with blood-red paint, and atop the pedestal was a woven basket. Clary felt frozen, her eyes fixed on it.

Take a look, said Leviathan, his voice full of a dark glee.

Clary's feet dragged forward. It was as if the basket had become a magnet, drawing her towards it even though she could not bear to find out what was in it, even though she longed with every fiber of her being to run in the other direction...

And then she was there. An unseen force yanked her chin down, forcing her to look into the basket.

Lexie's body was still, her skin chalk-white. And her eyes—Clary had seen those beautiful golden eyes lit up with curiosity, with love and life. Now they were glassy and dull.

My baby...

Clary's whole body was shaking. Her hands opened and closed uselessly at her sides. "She's not dead," she whispered. "She's not dead. I'd know if she was."

Leviathan laughed derisively. You overestimate the power of your love.

"No," Clary snarled. "I won't let you take her from me."

But I already have.

From the center of the pentagram, a shadow bloomed. Darkness spread over Clary's feet, flooding the clearing. A horned figure rose from the ground, its head blocking out the stars—

The stars. Hundreds of them, thousands, in a wild, unnatural palette of colors. There was only one place Clary knew of with stars like that.

"Faerie," Clary whispered. "She's in Faerie."

Leviathan chuckled, his silhouette rippling. Come find me, Clary Fairchild. Come witness your destruction.

Clary had felt blazing rage before; this was different. She had built up walls of ice in the past few months, shutting out fear and pain. Now she felt herself shatter, and the shards were weapons. Her heart turned to stone.

"I'll find you," she promised. "And I'll kill you."

His laugh echoed in her head. The vision dissolved; Clary blinked and found herself standing in the hallway. Her disorientation was only momentary. She balled her hands into fists and whirled around, finding herself face to face with Isabelle.

"...scared," she was saying. "But it's not over, okay? There's still a chance she's alive."

And Clary saw, again, Lexie lying lifeless in that basket. "I told you," she spat before she could stop herself. "I told you this would happen."

Isabelle's face hardened. "You think I don't know that?" she said. "You think I'm not beating myself up about it? If I could go back and change it, I would." Behind the anger in her eyes was a deep, buried hurt. Clary felt a small kernel of guilt worm its way through her cold fury.

"Well, it doesn't matter now," she said in a slightly quieter tone. "She's gone. But I'm going to get her back."

She pushed past Isabelle, letting her anger drive her forward. A single thought pulsed through her body, an inexorable purpose: Get her back. Whatever it takes.

"Nothing," Alec said. He cursed and opened his palm, the bit of paper rolling onto the table. "I don't know if he's untraceable or if there isn't enough of an emotional connection..."

Simon looked around the room. There were similarly bleak expressions on everyone's face, as if they had all come to the same dark conclusion. "We'll—we'll find her," he said again, but each time he said it felt more feeble and helpless than the last.

Jace was still pacing, but he shot Simon a hard look. "And how the hell are we supposed to do that?" he demanded. "We don't know if she's even—and even if she is, we don't have any idea where they could have taken her—"

"Faerie."

Simon jumped; he hadn't realized Clary had come back in. A moment later, Isabelle appeared in the doorway. She caught Simon's eye and made her way to him, Clary following.

"They took her to Faerie," Clary said. Something had changed in her demeanor; Simon almost shrank back at the coldness radiating off her.

"How do you know?" said Maryse.

"It doesn't matter how I know," said Clary shortly. "I know. She's in Faerie, and that's where they're going to do the ritual too." Simon saw Jace glance at Clary, but his expression was inscrutable.

"It would make sense," Alec said slowly. "It could be why we can't track her. You can't track across dimensions."

"If there's any chance she's there, then I'm going after her," Jace said resolutely.

"I'm going too," Clary said.

"Clary," said Isabelle carefully. Simon glanced at her; she had a very knowing look in her eye. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'll be fine," said Clary, folding her arms.

"Wait," Maryse said. She pushed to her feet, drawing herself up to her full height and piercing Clary with her gaze. "I knew it," she said. "I knew it. You are pregnant, aren't you?"

"No," said Clary, a little too quickly.

"Don't lie to me," Maryse snapped.

"Maryse," Jace said warningly.

She put her hands on her hips. "I have a right to know if you're putting my grandchild at risk—"

"Your granddaughter is already at risk," said Jace sharply. "Are we going to waste time having this conversation again, or are we going to focus on getting her back?"

"I just want the truth," Maryse said stubbornly. "You beat around the bush every time I bring it up, and I want to know—"

"Fine!" Clary burst out. "If you care that much, yes, I'm pregnant. Happy?"

There was a shocked silence. Maryse opened and closed her mouth, clearly at a loss for words; Jace was staring at Clary, his lips parted. Clary blinked and took a step back, as if she were as stunned as the rest of them looked, as Simon felt, at what she had just said. Simon saw her swallow.

"It doesn't matter," she said levelly. "It doesn't change anything."

"Like hell it doesn't," said Maryse furiously, some color returning to her face. "I won't let you put yourself in danger like this."

Clary's eyes flashed dangerously. "You won't let me?" she repeated.

"Maryse," said Jace, stepping in front of Clary. "You're out of line."

"You're okay with this?" Maryse demanded.

"It's Clary's choice," Jace said firmly. "We're not stupid, we'll be careful. But we have to get her back."

"It doesn't have to be you, though," said Simon. "I'll go." Clary's gaze fell on him. He reached for her. "I'll find her, I pr—"

Clary seized his wrist and squeezed hard. Simon bit back a gasp of pain. "I'm warning you," she said quietly. "Don't you dare try to stop me."

Simon stared at her. He had never seen her like this; her green eyes were darkened and unreadable, her face blank. Simon wrenched his arm out of her grip, his wrist stinging painfully. Without another word, Clary turned on her heel and left the room.

Simon followed her. "Clary," he called after her, but she gave no indication that she had heard him. "Clary," he said again, more loudly. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm, stopping her. "What's the matter with you?"

"Get out of my way," she snapped, pulling away from him and resuming her brisk stride down the hallway.

He followed her into the armory. She began to tear weapons from the wall and toss them in a pile on the floor; Simon leaped out of the way as a dagger landed, point down and quivering, in the floor right where his foot had been a moment before. "Clary, what the hell?" he demanded.

She whirled on him; her hair came loose, tumbling down over her shoulder. "What, Simon?"

He took a step back. She was breathing heavily, her eyes crackling with rage. "I just wanted to know if you're okay," he said softly.

Clary made a noise that was half laugh, half sob. "Why the hell would I be okay? My daughter is missing. She could be dead, for all I know. You're not a parent, you don't understand what it's like—"

"That's over the line," said Simon quietly.

Clary turned away and grabbed a stack of gear and spare clothing off the shelf. "I'm sorry," she said in a hard voice. "I didn't mean you'll never be a dad. But right now, you don't understand. So don't try to tell me everything will be okay. It's not okay."

She kicked off her shoes, rucked her dress up to her knees, and pulled on her pants beneath it. Deftly, she undid the knot at the back of the dress and let it fall to the floor; with a jolt, Simon realized that her stomach was already beginning to swell beneath the camisole she was wearing. Clary gave him a pointed look; he turned around.

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" he said.

"Because frankly, it's none of your business."

"You told Isabelle," Simon pointed out.

He heard her give an irritable sigh; there was the sound of her jacket zipping. He turned back toward her as she began to yank pins out of her hair, now fully dressed in gear.

"Isabelle was trying to get me drunk," she said, "so I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

Simon surveyed her. "Are you okay?"

"Stop asking me that," said Clary exasperatedly, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

"I mean about the pregnancy. Because you don't seem..." He bit his lip. "I don't know. You always seemed glad to be pregnant with Lexie, even with everything that was going on, but now—"

"I didn't know," Clary said, so quietly Simon almost didn't hear her. "I didn't know what I'd have to go through to have her." Simon hovered, unsure how to respond, but Clary just shook her head and began to slide weapons into her belt. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Let's not make this a bigger deal than it is."

"But..."

She grabbed an extra set of gear, gathered up the rest of the weapons, and strode past him without looking at him. He hurried after her as she went back to the library and elbowed the doors open.

"Get dressed," Clary told Jace, tossing her armful of supplies onto the table with a loud clatter. He extricated the gear and disappeared behind a bookshelf. "We need rations and water bottles," Clary went on, addressing the room at large.

"Wait," said Simon. "I want to come with you."

"No," Clary said flatly. "I need you and Isabelle to manage the Institute while we're gone. Alec, Magnus—" They looked up from where they were murmuring to each other at the end of the table. "Gather the Alliance. Try to find Caladrius and take the Scourge down from this end." They nodded.

"Clary, slow down," Jocelyn said, sounding worried. "I think we need to take a minute to think this all through."

"We don't have a minute," said Clary shortly. "Go pack us a bag," she added to Jace as he reemerged. He gave her a searching look before leaving the room.

"I don't like this," Maryse said abruptly. "I don't like you going."

"I don't really care how you feel," Clary said bluntly. Maryse recoiled. "And I'm not going to waste time arguing with you."

And she strode out again, leaving the room silent behind her.

"She's not thinking straight," Luke said at last. He sounded as if he were trying to stay calm, but the tightness in his voice gave him away.

"Can you blame her?" said Jocelyn softly. Luke closed his eyes and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Jocelyn touched his arm.

"She shouldn't be going," Maryse said firmly. "How long has she been keeping this from us? Has she even been taking care of herself? Has she seen a Silent Brother yet?"

These questions, Simon noticed, were directed at him. "I don't have any answers for you," he told Maryse. "I only just found out too."

"I can't believe she didn't tell me," said Jocelyn, sounding crestfallen.

"Me neither," Maryse said, folding her arms. "The number of times I asked her point-blank—"

"Mom, give it a rest!" Isabelle snapped. "It was none of your business to begin with."

"I'm just worried about her, Isabelle," Maryse said frostily.

"You're worried about your grandchild," Isabelle corrected in a similarly icy tone. "But Clary can take care of herself, and she can make her own decisions. We should be trying to help her and Jace right now, not harping on about a pregnancy she's clearly having a really hard time dealing with."

Maryse straightened. "So she's talked to you? What do you know?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Isabelle said, sounding exasperated. "Just that she's scared and she needs our support right now."

"Isabelle's right." Alec's voice was thick. Simon thought of what Clary had said: You're not a parent, you don't understand what it's like...Clearly Alec understood, because his eyes were steely as he stood. "Magnus, let's go find Lily and Maia." They left together.

Simon fidgeted. He couldn't bear to be doing nothing, so he scooped up the weapons and followed Alec and Magnus out of the library, turning toward the kitchen instead of the Sanctuary. As he had expected, he found Jace and Clary there, silently filling backpacks with water bottles and food. Wordlessly, Simon dumped the weapons on the table.

"Thanks," Jace said. Clary barely glanced at Simon before continuing to pack. Jace gave Simon a significant look before beginning to arm himself. Simon plucked a stele out of the pile and went to Clary.

"Can I Mark you?" he asked. She shrugged and rolled up her sleeves, leaning back against the counter. He began to trace runes over her arms: agility, strength, courage in combat. "Not that you need it," he said with a small smile. She didn't return it, only pushed her sleeves back down and went to a cupboard to get more granola bars. "Be careful out there," Simon said quietly.

Jace dropped his head in a nod, but Clary gave no reaction. She zipped up the backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and left. A moment later, Jace, now fully armed, gave Simon one last look before following her.

Maybe Clary was right, Simon thought. Maybe he couldn't understand what she was going through. But staring after her, his fingers resting on his forearm, all he could think was that she had never seemed more of a stranger to him.

Central Park was still and silent, as if every living thing there had vanished. Or perhaps Jace couldn't register any sound beyond the buzzing in his ears. It was fear, certainly, but also battle-preparedness, resolve, crackling energy. There could be no hesitation now, no worry of failure, nothing to get in the way of their task.

The moon was nearly full, and the surface of the pond shimmered in its light. Clary went ahead of him, gliding noiselessly through the water. Jace followed her in silence, though words pressed painfully against his lips: I'm scared—What if we're wrong—What if we're too late—

He bit them back. There was no use in voicing them, in sharing them with Clary; she would ignore them and push on, as she had for weeks. But that discussion would have to wait until after they had Lexie back. And they would get her back, Jace thought determinedly as Clary disappeared into the reflection of the moon. They had to.

Jace turned and tipped backward in one motion. He landed too hard in the hallway and was forced to roll forward onto his feet. Freezing water plastered his hair to his forehead, droplets snaking down his back and making him shiver.

Clary had already picked herself up and was peering down the empty hallway. The icy water didn't seem to bother her. "We should get out of the court," she said.

"Shouldn't we track her first?" Jace asked. "What if she's not here? I don't want to waste any time."

"She's here," Clary said. "Let's move."

"But how do you—"

Jace cut himself off as footsteps approached. He seized Clary's arm and pulled her behind a tapestry woven from vines, biting back a curse as the thorns pricked his arms. They wedged themselves into the alcove behind it; Jace could feel Clary's pulse against his own chest.

The footsteps grew louder, and Jace heard the rustle of a curtain. With difficulty, he extracted his stele and scrawled an Audio rune on his forearm, passing the stele to Clary so she could do the same. A familiar voice spoke.

"Report." The Seelie Queen sounded remarkably blasé; Jace could picture her lounging on the bed, picking at her fingernails.

"The Scourge has moved on the Nephilim," said a second voice, a female with a deep, ringing tone. "It seems they have taken the Herondale girl." Jace dug his nails into his palms, tamping down the writhing feeling in his stomach.

"So they have returned to Faerie?"

"Undoubtedly," a third voice said, his tone pinched and tinny, "though we are still attempting to locate them."

Now there was a silence. Jace held his breath, listening with all his might. The queen hummed as if in thought.

"With your permission, my lady," said the woman at last, "we could gather a militia at once and pursue the Scourge."

"No," said the queen. Though her voice was light, there was an edge to it. "We will let them be for the time being."

Jace sensed that the faeries were as stunned as he was. "My lady," said the man, his voice full of incredulity, "with all due respect, it seems unwise to do nothing. If their ritual succeeds, we cannot know what force may be unleashed in Faerie."

"We bide our time." Her tone was unmistakably cold now. "I have already lost one good agent to the Scourge, and I do not intend to sacrifice any more of my pieces just yet." Was it Jace's imagination, or did he detect a note of sorrow in her voice? "Track them from a distance," she went on in a clipped tone. "If it comes to it, we will act. I do not wish to see my realm torn apart by these fools."

"My lady." The woman sounded slightly frustrated. "We are running out of time. If they have kidnapped the child, they must be planning to execute the ritual soon. I advise—"

"It is not your place to advise," the queen said coolly. "I have my reasons for refraining from antagonizing the Scourge outright, and I need not explain them to you. Keep watch on them, and intervene only if the ritual threatens to be successful."

"And the child—"

"Is of little importance," said the queen smoothly. "There is more to the ritual than her. Do what you must."

Clary made a sudden movement; Jace seized her arm and pulled her against him. "Let me go," she snarled.

The throne room went suddenly quiet. Jace clamped a hand over Clary's mouth, wrapping his other arm tightly around her chest. She struggled, but he held onto her with all his strength.

"Did you hear that?" said the woman.

"My, my," the queen said in a lofty tone. "The wind certainly is violent tonight."

"My lady—"

"That will be all," said the queen. "To your tasks, soldiers."

There was the briefest hesitation before footsteps sounded again. Jace felt the tapestry ripple as the soldiers passed. Clary fought against him, but he held fast until the footsteps faded away.

"Well," the queen said, apparently to no one, "I find myself quite tired. I think I shall turn in for the night. I do hope there are enough guards along this hall."

There was the sound of a curtain drawing, then silence. Jace released Clary; she flung the tapestry out of the way, making a beeline for the throne room. Jace grabbed her again.

"No," he hissed. "She's letting us go. Let's get out of here before she changes her mind."

Clary's eyes flashed murderously, but she wrenched away from him and set off down the hallway. He followed fast on her heels. Though they kept to the shadows, they encountered no guards. Jace couldn't fathom what long game the Seelie Queen was playing, but he had dealt with her enough times to know that she never gave something for nothing. They would have to pay the price for her apparent generosity eventually, but he would pay it if it meant they got Lexie back.

They emerged into the bright midnight of Faerie. Jace caught his breath for a moment at the sight of the swirling stars above him and the open plain before him. He had not entered Faerie in years, and he had almost forgotten how beautiful it could be.

Clary drew Lexie's stuffed wolf from her backpack. Magnus had repaired it, Jace realized belatedly. Clary scrawled a rune onto the back of her hand, closing her eyes. After a moment, she exhaled, her eyelids opening again.

"She's here," she said. "She's alive." Jace felt momentarily light with relief before fear set in again. "They're moving fast, about a day ahead, but we can still catch up with them." She tucked the toy away and started to walk.

"Clary, wait." He caught at her arm. "How did you know she was in Faerie?"

"It's not important."

"Leviathan told you, didn't he?" Jace felt Clary stiffen; she nodded once. "We could be walking into a trap," said Jace.

"Does it matter?" Clary said. "We have to go after her."

"I know," Jace said, "but we'll have to be careful. You have to be careful. Your mind is vulnerable."

"It doesn't matter," Clary said tonelessly. "As long as we save Lexie, he can do whatever he wants to me."

"Clary," said Jace, horrified, but before he could say more, he felt the air shift behind him. He flung himself in front of Clary as a faerie appeared out of nowhere, sword swinging toward them. Jace drew his own sword just in time, the blades meeting with a shower of sparks.

All at once, there were faeries all around them. Jace had barely a second to wonder where they had come from—there were no places to hide—before the faeries attacked. Then there was only chaos, a cacophony of clanging metal and cries of pain as Jace slashed and whirled. They were outnumbered three-to-one, but Jace could tell these faeries were untrained; their sloppy footwork and uneven movements made it easy for Jace to incapacitate them or knock them out. Beside him, Clary swung her blade, fending off a faerie.

"Where are you taking my daughter?" she snarled.

"You're too late," said the faerie, sneering; his auburn hair shimmered in the starlight, his brown eyes glinting. "You cannot stop us now."

Clary's face hardened; with a slash of her sword, she beheaded the faerie in one clean slice. She was like a machine, her eyes devoid of emotion. Jace felt a lurch of horror, and for just a moment, he could only stare at her in fear of what she had become.

It was a moment too long. Suddenly, Jace felt a searing pain just above his right hip. He jerked back and slashed out in one movement. The faerie fell, but not before Jace saw the gleam of triumph in his eyes.

Panting and gripping his side, Jace spun around, but the battle was done. The ground was littered with the bodies of faeries; Jace didn't want to think about how many were unconscious and how many were dead. Clary's gaze swept once around the scene before she set off across the plain. Jace had no choice but to follow her.

He kept his distance from her as they moved quickly away from the battleground. He couldn't help but feel that he didn't know who this person was. She had Clary's face, her voice and mannerisms—but something had changed. Something had been building in her these past weeks, and he hadn't stopped it. He hadn't done enough to help her. And now he was not entirely sure if the Clary he knew still existed. The thought made his insides burn with fear.

Except he really was burning. As they reached a small copse of trees, he slowed, wincing. Ahead of him, Clary was fiddling with her weapons belt. "Damn buckle's broken," she muttered. She glanced back at him. "Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice emotionless.

"It's nothing," he said. "Just a scratch." He unzipped his jacket, drew his shirt up—and froze, staring down at the wound.

The blade had driven deep into his side—it must have just come shy of hitting his spine—but what gave him pause was the spiderweb of lines branching away from the wound, shimmering metallic-silver in the starlight.

Jace's stomach twisted.

"No." He looked up at Clary; for the first time, he registered fear on her face. "No," she said again, her voice shaking slightly. "I can heal you. Stand still." She pulled out her stele and moved toward him.

He jerked back. "Don't," he said. "Don't touch it. We don't know if it can spread."

"Shut up," Clary snapped. Jace recoiled. "You think I'm just going to let you die? You don't get to die. Just shut up and let me fix it."

"Clary," he said softly. She came toward him again. This time, he let her. "Be careful," he said.

She bent over him, inking a rune into his abdomen. He recognized it; she had used it on him once before, in the dusty lobby of an abandoned hotel. Extraction. He saw the lines retreat slightly into the wound—but then they moved again, creeping out around it.

Clary swore under her breath. She carved the rune into him again, slowly, painstakingly. Jace felt the warmth of it permeate through his torso. It was too warm—too powerful. "Clary!" he said sharply.

The stele fell from her fingers. She toppled toward him, her eyelids drooping. He caught her, holding her up as she slumped against his chest. "Clary," he said again, unable to stop panic entering his voice.

"I'm fine..." she mumbled.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. "You can't use up all your energy like that!"

"Did it...work?" Clary slurred, her eyes half-shut.

"Yes," Jace said. "It worked. You got it all out."

"Good...tha's good..." Jace eased her to the ground, propping her up against a tree. She struggled feebly against him. "No...have to move...track..."

"You're in no state to walk," said Jace. "We'll rest for a few hours." Clearly too exhausted to argue, Clary curled up and closed her eyes. Jace sat beside her to keep watch.

He waited until her breathing had become slow and even before he carefully rolled up the hem of his shirt. The wound had closed, raw pink scar tissue stretching across it. But where the scar ended, tiny metallic lines crept away from the edges, like thin wires in his skin. As he watched, they began to snake slowly outward.

Jace pulled his shirt back down, heart hammering as he tried to think. He remembered Bainewright, how the poison had killed him once it reached his heart. Quickly, he did the math, with the rate of advancement and the location of his wound compared to Bainewright's. His hands shook as he sat back, his heart heavy with dread.

One thing was certain: he was going to die. If they didn't get Lexie back within a week, he would never see her again.