Chapter 60 – Anger and Sorrow

Blake's blood was everywhere. It dripped through the white, cold snow; the difference in temperature a hissing in the air that rang in my ears. It slid over the insides of my hands; was absorbed into the fabric of my sleeves as I raised them to eye level. It mixed with my own blood, which had already dried and caked on my clothes.

With unsteady legs, I rose from Blake's motionless body and passively tilted my head upwards. The seraph blade trembled between my fingers as I stared at the six figures now chasing down the slope screaming. Straight towards me.

I didn't feel any pity. Not a single spark of it. But remorse. Not because Blake was dead or his life meant anything to me. Because of Jace and Isabelle and maybe even Alec and Adam. Because now they could clearly see who I actually was. What my father had made of me; what I had voluntarily allowed myself to be formed into.

My eyes darted to Blake's friends – followers – racing down the snowy hill, anger on their faces and promises of revenge on their lips. The second I just stood there, dazed by what I had done, was enough for me to remember why exactly Blake was dead now. And why these men deserved to die just as much. The throbbing in my shoulder was intense enough, the wet hair on the back of my neck icy enough, to keep me from forgetting the fading pain and scars Blake had inflicted on me just an hour ago. While they were staying guard or watching.

The Ashdown's dark estate stood out against the snow-white background; loomed over me like a huge shadow from the distance. I blinked. Once. They had almost reached me. Twice. The pain, the shame, the frustration, the anger lashed through my veins. Three times. I'm already like Blake. I'm probably even worse. Somewhere in my heart there was a good side, I was aware of it. But my life had been one of struggle and death for too long to act differently now; to appeal to other ideals. And I didn't want to either. I wanted them to suffer; I wanted them to pay for my pain.

Was I therefore a bad person? If that was enough to be like Blake, then I would accept it. Even though the thought of resembling him in any way repelled me.

I'm already like Blake. I'm probably even worse. Worse was good. Worse was better. Some synapse in my body must have gone crazy. I must have gone crazy. There was no other way I could explain how I leaned towards the six Shadowhunters from whom I was only a few meters apart; how I could raise my sword arm to get straight into the next fight. Worse, worse, worse.

A scream, loud and angry, escaped my throat and rippled across the plain like a clap of thunder. Then I lunged forward, barely avoiding Jace's fingers trying to grab my arm. From the side I could make out Alec, Isabelle and two other figures who had also started running. Probably to end this before it started. They had to if they wanted to prevent a bloodbath. They roared over to us; demanded that we stop and lay down our weapons.

Neither Blake's friends nor I responded. We reached the halfway point, and I was already at a disadvantage because of the slope. Six against one. I didn't care. They split up to surround me. Fueled by the ferocity of emotion in my chest, I had struck down the first of them in a breath. Blood sprayed through the air, onto my face, onto the other Shadowhunters, into the snow. I spun on my own axis, ducking instinctively between the swords, parrying anything I couldn't dodge. There were only five of them now, but I was exhausted from the day in captivity and the confrontations I had already had today.

The first time one of their weapons hit me, I didn't even notice because of the adrenaline. I kicked his sword out of a boy's hand, took a step back and repositioned myself, now with a blade in each hand. Blow after blow, adamas met steel or adamas met adamas. I knew I was losing. My pride was too great to admit defeat. It would have been wise. A wise warrior would have done this. But I was arrogant, selfish and consumed by the memories of my own screams, the torture, the humiliation.

The first time I had to stop because one of them had slashed my hip, I almost tripped and slid down the slippery slope. My feet wobbled under my body, struggling to stay upright. I looked down at myself, staring at the blood flowing in a steady stream down my legs. When I looked up they had already attacked me again. But less this time. Alec and Isabelle had attacked two of them, separated them from the group and pushed them into the snow. A third was just pushed into the ground by a Shadowhunter from the escort.

Defensively, I raised my swords and shook myself free from a wave of blur that flashed through my vision. My two remaining opponents rushed towards me, smiles on their faces because they had caught me. But two against one were good chances. Outstanding ones, actually.

Not that I ever found out if I won that fight after all. Alec lunged at Blake's friends, striking one of them at the temple with the flat of his blade and forcing the other to stop with a precise grip of his arms. Within three seconds.

I skidded to a halt, impressed and amazed at the same time, only to be jerked backwards at the same moment. A surprised scream escaped my throat and I leaned in the opposite direction to get away from my attacker. The raw strength in his muscles was enough to drag me several meters away from Blake's incapacitated friends.

My good shoulder was forcibly turned around and I was already baring my teeth, weapons at the ready, when I met Jace's eyes, wide with horror. It felt like all strength, all adrenaline left my body at once. A shudder ran through me, causing me to stumble and spit blood right onto his dirty gear. Jace looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. As if he didn't know me.

"Enough," Jace shouted, even though I was standing right in front of him. I recoiled from his voice; recoiled at the fright on his face. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, forcing me to drop the seraph blades. I didn't resist because I had already accomplished my goal. Blake Ashdown was dead.

"I surrender," I croaked, hoarse from the battle, raising my arms tremblingly in the air. My statement wasn't even meant to be ironic, after all I had ended the lives of eight Nephilim today. And Jace only knew about two, as the other six were lying around the Ashdown's estate.

My gaze shifted from Jace to the other Shadowhunters in custody. I couldn't look at him any longer, the regret suddenly like an insurmountable lump in my throat. As if I had destroyed everything that could have been between us in the past fifteen minutes. My eyes rested on Adam's lifeless body, which was being carried through the portal by several figures. Tears pricked the edges of my eyelids. The battle had captivated me so much that I had completely forgotten the horrifying reality surrounding it. The adrenaline had made me tune it out.

But now the moment of exhaling was over. When I looked back at Jace, my body was already shaking from exertion and blood loss. The shock was still deep and would probably stay that way for a while, if it disappeared at all. I could understand if not. Nonetheless, something else had come to the forefront of his features. Relief. I reached out to him as a wave of dizziness went through me. A second later I was in Jace's arms, my head pressed against his chest and his hands wrapped protectively around my back.

The embrace hurt. My hip burned and my shoulder throbbed, but nothing compared to the pain in my chest. Jace's smell of soap, sweat, and maple had become so familiar to me, made me feel so safe, that I suddenly couldn't contain my own desperate relief. A sob ripped through my body and then I cried. Loud, ugly and hysterical – the horrors of the past day unmistakable.

"I'm here," Jace murmured so quietly that his words carried no further than my ears. The muscles in his arms flexed as he pulled me closer against his body until I felt the heat radiating from him. He tilted his head and pressed his cheek against my wet hair, gently stroking my spine.

"We have to go!" called a strange voice across the snowy valley. "They can't leave the portal open for us forever."

Reluctantly, I pulled away from Jace and turned to the others, only to find that most of them must have already passed through the portal. Blake's body was gone, only his blood as a reminder of what had happened. Isabelle and Alec stayed behind, eyes discreetly lowered to give me as much privacy as possible. Then there were a woman and a man who looked at me disparagingly, even from a distance.

"Wait," Jace whispered, just as I started to move. I looked back at him questioningly. He peeled off his winter coat and it wasn't until he had to help me put it on that I realized how violently my arms were actually shaking. The warmth of the jacket felt like a buffer against the reality of the outside world that was slowly closing in on me. Adam was never your friend. You killed eight Nephilim. They will execute you.

"Thank you," it came absently from my lips. But Jace wasn't finished. I must have looked terrible if he thought this couldn't wait until Alicante. His fingers ran over my hip so lightly that the burning sensation from the wound was kept to a minimum in response. I still gasped inwardly. Jace's arm steadied me while his other hand went to his weapon-belt, searching for his stele.

I shook my head almost imperceptibly. "It won't help."

Jace paused. "Why not?"

"If you apply an Iratze too often in short intervals, it will eventually lose its effectiveness," I tried to explain, without really having to explain. Confusion clouded Jace's eyes but faded into the background as my mind drifted back to the basement of the mansion. "We can't leave yet!" I said more forcefully and would have fallen to my knees if Jace hadn't supported my weight.

"What does that mean?" There was still a note of disbelief in Jace's voice, as if he wasn't quite sure if this was actually happening.

"Valentine," I said, breathing heavily, the blonde strands of his hair brushing my cheek as Jace swung my healthy arm over his shoulders. The mention of my father made him freeze. "He will come here. To pick me up. If no one has notified him, he'll think they're still here waiting for my handover." Jace's jaw clenched and I could tell he was having trouble keeping his own anger at bay. "My dress is in the house ... my blood ... He'll be able to track me if he gets his hands on even one of these."

Jace looked down at my body, as if just now realizing that I was no longer wearing the emerald green dress I had been kidnapped with last night. A twitch ran through his muscles as he examined my appearance again, obviously searching for something. I didn't know if he found what he was looking for. Without any further emotion, he turned his face away from me, stared at Alec and Isabelle, and waved them over to us.

A minute later we had climbed the hill where the Ashdown's estate stood. Up here, a shivering wind whipped towards us, with no sign of the predicted spring. Jace continued to support me but didn't say a word. None of them – not Isabelle, Alec, nor the woman who accompanied us – said a word. After Isabelle had asked about my well-being with a short sentence, she fell silent as well.

I could sense my companions' unease as we passed under the property's archway, all of their heads snapping from the shattered first-floor window to the glass and blood in the grass and finally to my tattered outfit. Jace stared at me and I could see in his hardened eyes that he was wondering if I had jumped or fallen.

Their eyes only grew larger as we entered the downstairs living room. Jace froze at my side. We encountered the first lifeless bodies and my lips curled in agony. One of them was the man who had been keeping watch at the basement door and whom I had finished with a quick stab in the neck. I didn't turn to look at the others because I could feel their eyes on me like weights trying to force me to my knees.

Jace only reluctantly released my arm as I tried to pull away from him to lead the way into the basement. If they were already reacting like I was a monster, it was probably better if I turned my back to them to avoid the same effect downstairs.

"Holy shit," the woman from the escort muttered as she surveyed the chaos in the basement.

Motionlessly, I trotted past the four corpses piled up right at the bottom of the stairs. I could hear Isabelle gasping as she looked around the basement. Where did their eyes land first? Violence and destruction as far as the eye could see.

The dark green scrap of fabric that had once been a beautiful, sparkling evening dress had lost all shine. It wasn't even really green anymore. My blood had given it a brownish hue that made me feel bile. I laboriously bent down next to the dress and picked it up, running my dirty, sticky fingers over the crusted blood and torn fabric. The hole where Blake had stabbed his dagger into my thigh was still clearly visible despite everything he had done afterwards. Like a memorial.

"Whose blood is this?" Alec asked at that moment, and I had to fight the memories that this place was trying to regurgitate in my brain. I turned my chin toward them and opened my mouth to let out a silent breath. Alec's eyes were glued to the wooden chair that stood a few steps in front of the water-filled bathtub. The piece of furniture had gotten some of my blood on it, but not nearly as much as the floor around it. The polished tiles, which in the rest of the room had the color of ash, were too solid to absorb all the liquid. And so an uneven puddle had formed. The blood had moved through the grooves between the individual tiles, leaving an eerie pattern across the floor. Like a miniature river.

I realized I was drifting away, but I couldn't do anything about it. I shook my head almost imperceptibly, my hands clenched into fists around the dress. "Mine," I replied neutrally, although I wanted to ask him what he thought whose blood it was, since there weren't many options available, and Blake had hardly tortured himself. All it took was a quick glance at the multitude of instruments on the table in the corner.

"How..." Alec sounded incredulous and stunned at the same time. He struggled for the right words, but couldn't say them. It wasn't difficult to follow his train of thought. How can it be that you are still alive? The amount of blood was enough to kill someone.

A pain shot through my waist as I pushed myself to my feet. "Can you hold this for a moment?" I asked Isabelle, who was closest to me, and held out my dress to her. She took it silently and followed me with her eyes as I scuffed over to a black box next to the bathtub and pulled out a soiled shirt. No rag, but that would be enough to get rid of the traces. I dipped the fabric into the ice cold water. The effort not to immediately pull my fingers out was overwhelming. Then I walked back, my vision lowered because I was afraid, I'd cry again if I looked at any of them.

"He applied an Iratze every time I passed out," I finally explained in response to Alec's unspoken question. Even to my ears, my voice sounded distant. The idea that I had been in the middle of a fight half an hour ago suddenly seemed very far away. Part of me wanted to go back there instead of being stuck down here with them. They looked at me like an exotic animal, unsure what to say or do. "It speeds up the formation of blood cells, so after a blood loss you are back to your old level pretty quickly."

The sentence snapped Jace out of his rigor. He was the furthest away from everything and was still lingering on the landing. His expression, which had just been frozen into an emotionless mask, now showed me his true state of mind. Anger, so deep and dark that I almost recoiled from it, lashed out at me. Like a curtain for the horror and shock beneath. One moment he had seemed unconcerned, now he looked as if he wanted to scream, only to then lay the entire room to waste.

I knelt down to wipe up the blood around the chair and suddenly Jace was standing right next to me, himself half crouched and leaning over me. His fingers grabbed the cold shirt, tugging it from my hand and then hoisting me back to my feet. "Sit on the stairs," he said in a firm, mechanical tone, and when I didn't respond, a nervous edge crept into it. "Isabelle, help Clary to the stairs."

Isabelle was next to me in no time, grabbed my arm and helped me around the pool of blood. She sat down next to me on the bottom step and rubbed my back in a comforting gesture. We watched as Jace knelt where I had just stood and wiped up my blood. In frantic, scrubbing movements until the shirt was blood-soaked and deep red. Alec and the woman briskly walked to the box, grabbing their own clothes to help him. Five minutes later, there was no liquid blood left for my father to use as a tracking device.

Alec gathered up the others' dripping textiles and then shifted his attention to the four corpses that rested stiff and pale at my feet. "We'll leave them here. The Clave can return them to Alicante later," he ordered, the authority present but open to challenge should anyone object.

Jace dried his fingers on the pants of his gear and then crouched down in front of me. With his body towering over me, I could count on one hand the times our faces had been on the same level. "Are you sure I shouldn't try the Iratze again?" he asked, all hardness gone. The look in his eyes was cautious.

I shrugged my shoulders and rolled back the left sleeve of my gear to extend my arm towards him. His fingers gently grasped my wrist before pressing the ever-cool adamas of his stele against my skin. A freeing breath escaped me and Jace's eyes slid to mine, his expression warm and lulling. For a second, because then he removed his fingers from me and pulled back the winter coat to get a look at the wound on my hip. He didn't like what he saw, as his pupils hardened in reaction. I followed his gaze and pressed my hands to my side.

I had to clench my teeth to keep from making a sound and then peered at the fresh, bright red wetness on my fingertips. "At least the wound isn't deep," I tried to joke, but ended up sighing.

Jace watched me disapprovingly and helped me up. It was only then that I noticed that the others had already left the basement. "One more joke and I'll push you right down the slope. Let's see how deep it will be then."

My brows rose, surprised by the anger in his tone. Of course, I knew where it came from. Jace couldn't stand it when I hid my feelings, when I hid behind a false, everlasting strength. It was the only thing I knew and not easy to let go of when weakness had only become an option since he came into my life.

I was too tired to state the obvious, so I wordlessly pushed past Jace and climbed the stairs in jerky movements. Once at the top, the next turn of events awaited us.

Wriggling and with her arms pinned behind her back, Blake Ashdown's mother struggled against the grip of Isabelle, who was trying to vent her frustration in this arrest, twisting the woman's arms tightly. I had completely forgotten Blake's mother again.

Jace stumbled into me as I froze in place. A pair of hateful eyes met mine and for a moment I couldn't help but see the resemblance to Blake's. Despite all the contempt I felt for her and her family, I couldn't ignore the pang that shot through my chest. I had killed her son.

"There she is," hissed Mrs. Ashdown with insincere virtue. "You have to take her into custody, not me. She murdered six innocent boys. Just slaughtered them like the monster her father made her into."

She didn't know. She had no idea Blake was dead. A wave of dizziness came over me and for some reason I couldn't understand, the image of my own dead mother suddenly popped into my brain. Also murdered. My fingers began to tremble as I realized that today I had caused someone the same pain that I had recently endured myself. And I still suffered, would for the rest of my life.

I swallowed the nausea that was rising within me and took a step closer to Mrs. Ashdown. Blake had died at my hands and I, as his murderer, had no choice but to have the guts to say it to her face. I would be a coward if I shirked this burden. But how did you tell a mother that her son had been murdered, regardless of what kind of person he had been?

I would have been lying if I had apologized for his death, because despite the twisted sympathy I felt for Mrs. Ashdown, I did not regret my actions. "Eight," I corrected in a hollow voice, not knowing how to behave. She had been here too, she had also approved of my torture. Who knew what role she played in all this. The thought diminished my sympathy. "Blake one of them."

I didn't smile when I said it. My features were closed into an absent mask. I struggled to hold it up when Blake's mother started screaming. A pained, pained squeal that sent me backing up and slamming back into Jace, who reflexively wrapped his arms around my body, also too stunned to react otherwise.

Mrs. Ashdown collapsed. Long, light-brown strands fell over her face and her body began to tremble. The deep, wrenching pain obvious. And then she was suddenly on her feet, quickly shaking off the distracted Isabelle. "You killed my son," she screamed hysterically and rushed towards me. "You murdered my Blake!"

Jace and I reacted at the same time, snapped out of our trance by the woman rushing towards us. As if we were one person, we took a quick step to the right. His hands, still wrapped around my body, tried to pull me out of the way, but I pulled away from him. With a quick, precise punch to her nose, I knocked Mrs. Ashdown to the ground. Her grief had caused her to act rashly and out of emotion.

The nose was broken, I realized immediately, but she didn't seem to notice. The pain of losing her boy must have had the adrenaline pumping through her veins like crazy because a blink of an eye later she was ready to jump again. Jace shot past me and pinned her arms behind her back to hold her back. Then Alec and the female Shadowhunter were at his side, lifting her to her feet together.

"Monster!" Blake's mother screamed at me as Alec and the woman dragged her out of the living room. Out into the front yard to take her to Alicante. "You have a monster in your midst! You cowards will pay with your lives if you continue to let them roam free!" The door slammed shut behind them, but her shouts could still be heard even now.

For several minutes we stared at the spot on the door where Mrs. Ashdown had just been. After a time that felt like an eternity, Isabelle was the first to break out of the paralysis. Her head swiveled over to Jace and me and I had the feeling that Jace was giving her the same look I was giving her. Her own face revealed something disturbed, as if she had just woken up from a nightmare.

"This must finally end," she said, and it was a first to hear exhaustion in her tone. "This fight between us Nephilim must finally stop. We are heading straight for ruin." She was right. We were facing a war and were more divided within our own ranks than ever before. It was exactly what my father wanted.

Isabelle turned on her heel to follow her brother and it wasn't until Jace gently pushed me towards the door that I followed. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes as we followed the others at a distance. Due to my injury. Jace didn't seem to mind.

"You shouldn't take her words to heart," he said halfway down the hill. "She carries the same poison within her as Blake and would say anything to appear less guilty."

"Well, I did actually kill her son," I replied, dodging the splatters of blood that stained the snow here and there. Where we had fought the plain was flattened. The boot prints showed what had happened. "And the sons of seven other mothers."

"Do you regret it?" I could hear the caution in his voice as he phrased the question.

"I want to regret it," I admitted ruefully, unable to stop my hand from clenching into a fist. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Jace. Of course not. "Blake tried to kill me. Even if it sounds childish, he started it. If only that had been it. He ... hurt my pride." I hesitated to speak, even though I knew Jace deserved the truth. It felt less difficult to tell it to him. I knew he wouldn't judge me. At least not for my feelings. "I have never felt so helpless and powerless in my life as I did that night by the canal."

Jace glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, but continued to stare straight ahead, his mouth tight. The gold of his eyes was liquid and warm, even when they weren't focused on me. He didn't want to show me the joy of my confession because he was afraid of my reaction.

"And then Malachi took me and played me right into Blake's hands." I wrapped Jace's coat tighter around my body as if it could keep the fear away from me. "I think the night by the canal was better. Death is final, although drowning is a painful way to die. But being defenselessly tied to this chair and just waiting for him to finally stop–" My voice stopped abruptly because I hadn't really wanted to reveal that much. It was easier to be honest next to Jace. And part of me wanted to share the burden with someone, wanted to tell someone about it. He was the only one I was willing to admit my weaknesses to. "Torture is lengthy," I finally summarized, so quietly that Jace had to lean toward me. "Unbearable."

Jace lowered his head to me, his body closer than it had been moments before. The expression in his bright eyes was still soft, but now the sympathy was unmistakable. No pity. Pain and exhaustion and, deep beneath it all, a deferred anger that wasn't directed at me. A wrath to be settled at another time. "Can I ..." His voice wavered, lost and determined at the same time. "Can I hold your hand?"

My eyes widened a fraction in wonder. I tilted my head up at Jace. We were so close that our arms were already brushing against each other. "I would feel better if I could touch you," he explained, free from the shyness of hiding his own feelings. I admired him for communicating them so openly.

In all the rush, I hadn't taken the time to study Jace's face more closely. But now, with his hovering just a few inches above mine, I could see the dark blue circles under his eyes. I suddenly realized that the previous night must have been quite difficult for him too. If he hadn't left me alone in such a frantic rush after our kiss, things might have been different. Not that I blamed him, I didn't.

In answer to his question, my fingers found his, the sleeves of his oversized coat so long that he had to push them back. The next breath that passed Jace's lips seemed more carefree; as if our intertwined fingers were actually enough to calm him down. I could feel the pulse on his wrist, beating too fast through his veins. Just as I hid most of my emotions behind indifference, he seemed to hide his excitement too.

"It's not your fault what happened," I said into the silence, though I continued to stare straight ahead. To Isabelle and the portal, which flickered in the air just a few meters away from us. The thought that I would soon be in Alicante made my stomach clench. Word of what had happened and what I had done had probably already spread thanks to the others. People would have already formed an opinion before I even had a chance to defend myself. Even though I had been kidnapped.

"Maybe it's not my fault, but I still feel guilty." Jace's warm, broad hand made mine disappear beneath his. He held it tight, as if he was afraid, he would have to let go. "And not just because I left you drunk outside like the idiot I am." He cleared his throat and turned his face to me. There was remorse on his features; remorse and a passion that I had already seen there last night.

We came to a standstill in front of the portal and Isabelle, a little more like her old self, rolled her eyes at the sight of us and disappeared with one step through the sparking wall. We were alone. Jace didn't hesitate any longer. "The kiss ..."

Despite everything, I recoiled from his words. My hand left his and disappointment flickered across Jace's face. "Let's talk about this another time," I said, turning my back on him. I didn't want to hear what he had to say about the kiss. My drunken self had wanted to be kissed by Jace, and even now that the effect was long gone, the hurt sat heavy in my stomach.

"You don't have to be sorry," I added before stepping through the portal.

My feet wobbled forward two steps before I came to a stop. My eyelids opened and closed again, trying to process the rapid change in scenery. The snowy plain behind the Ashdown's cottage now lay far behind. Part of me was relieved.

I turned around once to take a look at the large room in which I was now standing. Undoubtedly the Gard. Thick, charcoal gray stone walls lined with ancient torches and tapestries. On the left side there were several tall windows through which sunlight streamed in. Except for a few benches and tables, the room was free of furniture. Some exercise mats had been pushed into the middle, with two motionless bodies lying on them.

My body jerked as I recognized Blake and Adam. My hearing, which had stopped for a second, started up again. The first thing that came to my ears was the pitiful crying of Mrs. Ashdown, bending over her dead son. A Silent Brother was present, just a few feet away from Blake and leaning over an equally motionless Adam. Despite all the truths that had come to light about him, I was relieved to see that it didn't seem to be too late for him.

Only then did I notice the many eyes that shifted towards me the moment I arrived. There was everything from shock to indignation and astonishment. Isabelle came towards me, holding my arm steady as she led me a few steps away from the portal. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out Jace's presence at my side. Behind us, the portal closed with a crackling sound and someone who sounded suspiciously like Magnus Bane sighed theatrically.

I turned in his direction, but was already intercepted by another person demanding my attention. Imogen Herondale, her usual grim mask on her face, gave me a quick, analyzing look. Her thin lips turned down in dissatisfaction. The light, blue-framed pupils flashed, full of reluctance and frustration.

"This kindergarten nonsense ends now," she stated in a clear, authoritative voice. So loud that all other voices in the room fell silent. "This childish hostility between your ridiculous ideology and Clarissa Morgenstern ends here and now." Her eyes were no longer on me, I realized with amazement, but on Blake's mother. "Your son is dead and you have my condolences, Cynthia. But don't play one of your hypocritical games with us here. I've had enough of the crap your sons are pulling. It was only a matter of time before such a scandal would occur."

"How dare you," Cynthia Ashdown snapped at the Inquisitor, half raised from Blake's body.

"I don't want to hear anything else," Imogen cut her off. "We will discuss this in an official capacity soon enough. Until then, you have better things to do than bother more teenagers with your phrases."

It almost sounded like Blake's mother didn't stop throwing accusations and threats around after leaving her estate. When I found Alec in the crowd, right next to Magnus, I noticed that his face was covered in bloody scratches. Like someone had attacked him with a long set of fingernails.

"She must be punished!" Cynthia shouted, unfazed by the commands of her head of state. "She is a murderer and must be punished."

Imogen's cold, distant eyes, which seemed a touch annoyed by the whole scene, found their way back to me. She seemed as if this was all an annoying, avoidable drama. "She will. In my discretion." She let the air hiss out of her lungs and then waved two Shadowhunters over to us. Personal guards of the Inquisitor, as indicated by the stars on their uniforms. "You will join the other defendants in the Gard's prison until we can organize a formal trial."

Suddenly, Jace came to life. "But–"

"No, Jonathan," his grandmother snapped, imperiously and no less crossed. "This is nothing personal, but a neutral decision. Everyone involved in Clarissa's kidnapping will remain in solitary confinement until we know all the facts."

"Clary didn't do anything, she's the victim here!" Isabelle replied angrily and hooked her arm in mine. "Malachi kidnapped her, Blake tortured her. We were there, we saw what he did to her. Take a look at Clary for yourself!"

"I'm not suggesting that Clarissa is guilty of anything. The truth will come out anyway. But at this point, she has enough Shadowhunters on her conscience to not fall far below her father in the crime statistics. I cannot arbitrarily close my eyes to this."

"Let it be," it came from my lips. "She is right. She can't just let me walk around like I didn't do anything."

Isabelle's rebellious eyes flew to me and she was about to shake her head as I pulled her into a quick hug and then pulled away. I approached the two guards, who silently took me into their midst and then pulled me with them.

-

Sorry for the late update, I've been on a little city-trip and forgot to mention it last week. What do you think about this chapter? Let me know in the comments! Thank you for everyone who wrote one for the last chapter, I was overwhelmed with your thoughts and I loved all of it! :D

Skyllen