Part 2 "The Angels Rise"

Chapter 32 – Truth and Pain

The healer had arrived just minutes after Isabelle left my room. He must have already been there, just waiting for Isabelle to retreat. To my surprise, he wasn't a Silent Brother, but an ordinary Shadowhunter who had trained as a healer in the Basilias. He had treated the swelling on my neck and assured me it would go away soon. Before he had left again, he had given me an Iratze. It had been the biggest contributor to my recovery.

A few hours had passed and the swelling had almost completely disappeared. As the day drew to a close, I sat at the dressing table and brushed through my wet hair. After the healer had left, I had laid down to sleep for a short while. My eyelids had fluttered with exhaustion, and I had drifted off into a deep sleep the second my head had touched the soft pillow of my bed.

When I had woken up, the tiredness was gone, but the discomfort in my chest seemed stronger than before. Confused thoughts about my inability to defend myself against Jace, Kadir's dishonesty, and the disgrace with which I represented my family in Alicante had plagued my mind. I had showered to wash the dried sweat and negative feelings off my body.

I've gotten a little better now. The gentle movement of the brush in my red hair calmed me. I watched myself in the vanity mirror with a distant gaze as the brush went up and down. My neck looked the same as always. The few runes that adorned my body seemed to radiate from within and I could feel their energy pulsing through my veins. They were what made me a Shadowhunter.

I had chosen warm gray sweatpants and a matching tank top out of the closet. It had to be Isabelle's old stuff that she had outgrown over the years. Because I'd opened the window for ventilation before taking a shower, a blanket of soft sheepskin hung around my shoulders, obscuring most of my body in the mirror. Only my head, my recovered neck, and part of my cleavage were visible in the dim light.

The knock on the door made me jump. My heart jumped so violently that it took me a second to recover. The brush, which had just been stroking my hair in one gentle motion, stopped abruptly. I had been so engrossed in my trance that I had completely shut out the world around me. Suddenly I turned to the door. I wasn't expecting anyone at this hour. Also, no one ever knocked at my room. The Lightwoods avoided me as much as they could.

"Come in," I said, a little taken aback and went through all the possible people who would pay me a visit. Adam? He was certainly already at home with his family. There was hardly any reason for him to be here. Unless he wanted to put our argument aside. But he had to know that this wasn't a good time for it. Isabelle? Our reconciliation talks had gone well, but I couldn't think of any reason why she should try to talk to me again.

Several seconds passed. Then the door slowly opened and blond hair appeared in the dark hallway. My body stiffened as a voice in my head screamed Jonathan. But why would Jonathan knock on my door before he planned to murder me? I didn't have time to answer the question when Jace stepped into the doorway. The strained look in his eyes suddenly reminded me a lot of Isabelle's from earlier. "Can I come in?" he asked quietly, as if he hadn't even heard my answer.

I nodded speechless. Jace walked into my room and closed the door shut with a squeak. I didn't dare get up from the dressing table. A fog settled around my brain and I was unable to think clearly. Just the pounding of my heart told me that this was indeed real. Wasn't it odd that I was expecting Jonathan to visit rather than Jace? As Jace turned and walked toward me with hesitant, deliberate steps, I realized this was going to be a sensation. The last time he'd entered my room voluntarily, he'd tried to wake me from Ithuriel's vision.

Jace walked past me to the open window by the table, sat on the windowsill, and then turned back to me. He avoided my gaze, I noticed that immediately. As in the training room, he was having trouble maintaining his emotionless mask and I wondered why. I lowered the brush in my hand as slowly as possible. I feared that any noise, no matter how small, would set him in an uproar.

Neither of us said anything for several minutes. I stared at the clasped hands in my lap and waited for Jace to speak. What else should I do? I didn't even know the reason for his coming. That he had sat down on my windowsill without another word instead of just standing in the room like any normal, polite person would do was odd. Had something happened? Was he informing me of something that had happened since I escaped the guard? But for a while, Jace just stared out the window, down at the snowy street. The wind was freezing, but he didn't seem to care.

I was already afraid he would never speak when he finally cleared his throat. "I spoke to my grandmother– the Inquisitor," he began so quietly that I had to lean forward to hear the words. I lifted my head to look at him, but his eyes remained pointedly fixed on the road. The white radiance of the witch lights was reflected in his golden iris. "She was furious when I told her about the things Kadir had said about our family."

I said nothing, not knowing what to say to that. Of course, the Inquisitor was furious that a Shadowhunter like Kadir, coming from an insignificant family, was trying to smear her name. Those in power in a society would do anything to ensure that the image of themselves was always presented in the best possible light. Imogen Herondale was certainly no exception.

I didn't know how to deal with Jace. So far he had always been hostile or ignorant towards me. I could count on one hand the number of times he had dropped his cold mask in front of me. I didn't recognize the Jace standing in front of me, speaking to me in a calm tone. I didn't know what had suddenly gotten into him. Actually, I was just waiting for him to explode and throw another of his cryptic accusations at me.

"The Inquisitor will not tolerate such disrespectful behavior. She's going to have Kadir replaced by another trainer," Jace continued, watching the snowflakes fly toward the ground in gentle, swirling motions. I couldn't place his pitch. He didn't sound angry or upset. Rather resigned and exhausted. As if he had had a long and extremely tiring day.

"Of course she won't," I replied sarcastically, which made Jace look up. He must have seen the suspicious look in my eyes because he sighed. "Would she have been as interested in the matter if only I had been harmed?" But the Herondales' reputation comes first, of course ...

"She doesn't mean it like that," Jace replied in an explaining voice, which earned him an incredulous look from me. My eyebrows shot up questioningly. Not because I was interested in the Inquisitor in any way, but rather because I was trying to see through his behavior. Since when did Jace Herondale care what I thought of him or his grandmother? "She's a stubborn woman ... When it comes to Valentine, the only emotions she can feel are anger and revenge."

"That sounds familiar." I didn't bother to keep the frustration out of my voice. Whatever prompted him to engage in this form of conversation with me made me uncomfortable. I could understand old Jace's motives, anger usually had a deep root that made sense. But this Jace here ... It felt like stumbling through a pitch-dark cave without a witch light, trying to find my way out.

Jace's jaw tightened noticeably at my words, and he turned his head away from me again, the frozen gold of his eyes fixed on a distant spot on the street. He hated me so much he couldn't even bear to look at me. To my own surprise, I had to laugh. It was a contemptuous, perhaps sad laugh. "Of course she can only feel anger and revenge towards me, after all I'm Valentine's daughter and responsible for all the evil in the world."

Jace fell silent again, clenching his hands that hung uselessly down his body into fists. The wind that blew through the window into my room grew colder and colder, and I pulled the soft blanket tighter around my shoulders to keep from shivering. As I did so, my thoughts drifted back to my mother's funeral. Sitting out there in the arctic snow waiting to die until Jace had dragged me from her tombstone. A shiver ran through my legs. I felt the relentless numbness of my muscles as if I were still crouching out there. If Jace hadn't followed me, I'd probably be dead by now.

"I know my behavior towards you is unfair," Jace admitted in a serious voice, bringing me back to reality. His words made me jump involuntarily. "But being kind to you often seems like an impossible task. Every time I look at you I have to force myself not to think about your father. Do you know how hard that is?"

His words felt like a punch in the stomach. I couldn't breathe and I felt the tears that threatened to loom. Under no circumstances tears were allowed to flow now. I blinked several times, but turned my head to the side to hide my eyes from Jace. "I understand," I said without really thinking about it. Somehow I really did, but what kind of person was he if he only ever saw Valentine in his mind when looking at me? My visual resemblance to him was very limited. When the Nephilim saw me on the street, they recognized me as Jocelyn, not my father.

Jace called it an impossible task. Did the name Morgenstern really weigh so heavily that even friendliness or even fairness should be denied to me? Was I just completely off the mark with my expectations, or was it Jace who had the wrong thinking here? Faulty reasoning aside, if his head only sees your father in you, then he can't just turn it off, a matter-of-fact voice in my head tried to argue for Jace.

"Nevertheless, I'd like to be treated, for at least a moment, as if my father wasn't the worst lawbreaker in all of Downworld." I had a hard time putting my thoughts into words. Part of me was dying to explain my perspective to Jace. Part of me wanted him to understand. "I want to be a nobody. At least for a day not to be stared at and attacked from all sides. Because I know very well that I don't deserve any of this."

Jace's lips curled into a sad, almost guilty smile. "I quite believe it, but you are who you are." I could see that he didn't quite know what to say to that. "I guess you have no choice but to be the best version of yourself."

An incredulous snort escaped my throat. Of course it was wrong to pillory him now for answers I didn't have myself. "And who exactly would that be? My life is one big lie. I don't know who I am or what I'm capable of. And if the Clave has its way, it would be better if I didn't find out in the first place."

"Forget the Clave. You are one of the best Shadowhunters I have come across. You are brave and fearless. Few would have messed with Kadir the way you did this afternoon." Jace gave me a sideways glance that I couldn't place. It almost seemed as if he was ashamed to have said anything positive about me. Then he looked out the window again. This conversation was weird on so many levels.

I felt my cheeks blush. Hearing Jace talk about me like that made my hair stand on end with discomfort. He had openly admitted that I was one of the best Shadowhunters he knew. I wouldn't have expected that to come out of his mouth in a thousand years. Was this Jace real or was I dreaming? "Should I say thank you for that," was all I could muster.

Jace didn't answer. He didn't react at all. By now he had swung both legs onto the windowsill. His back was against the wall so if he looked straight ahead he would have me in his direct line of sight. Instead, his shoulders slumped, causing strands of hair to fall across his forehead. He rested his head against the window frame and his golden eyes were fixed almost exclusively on the glittering city surrounded by glowing demon towers. He made an effort to hide the emotions on his face. Dark circles showed on his cheeks and the way his eyes closed every few seconds indicated his exhaustion. For the first time I took a look at his clothes. He had exchanged the combat gear from this morning for a loose charcoal-colored sweater and blue jeans. His golden-blonde hair looked almost greyish in the dim candlelight. But even at that moment, when he made no attempt to look picturesque, I couldn't ignore the lightness and grace of his demeanor. He reminded me of Ithuriel. He was the kind of person my mother would have painted.

"Kadir deserves a lot worse," I revealed after an uncertain period of silence. "If you hadn't held me back, I don't know what I would have done to him."

"Kadir realized that the moment you held the dagger to his chest," Jace remarked, his eyes meeting mine. A smile curled his lips. "You should have seen yourself. I don't think you realize the impact you can have on others. I've never seen Kadir so scared."

"I was so angry with him," I whispered without taking my eyes off him, Kadir in my mind's eye. "I still am. He humiliated me."

"I was afraid you would kill him," he replied to my surprise. "I thought you were going to kill him when you ran back to him. But you spared him, that's enough humiliation. Adam and I both know he wouldn't have stood a chance against you."

A mirthless laugh escaped my mouth and I gritted my teeth in annoyance. "I considered killing him. I was about to cut his throat."

"I'm glad you didn't. Things would be a lot more complicated now," Jace said flatly.

"The mere thought that they would execute me for it and then my mother would have lost her life for nothing stopped me." I lowered my eyes and stared at my feet. Before he could say anything that would have made the mood in the room even more uncomfortable, I continued. "Is that what you wanted from me? Let me know that the Inquisitor will replace Kadir?"

Jace gritted his teeth and a sigh escaped his lips. "Not quite. The real reason I came is something else." He hesitated. "I wanted to apologize to you. For what happened in the ring today. What I did ... It bothers me that I couldn't control myself." Jace paused and took a deep breath.

I couldn't help but stare at him. "You wanted?"

Jace opened his mouth. Confusion flashed across his almost symmetrical face. "No of course not. I mean, I still want to apologize."

I stared at him, eyes wide with surprise, brows raised and unable to find the right words. I had thought about it, but an apology from him had been out of the question for me.

My amazement only increased when Jace started laughing. It was a bitter, unhappy laugh. "I see. My behavior towards you must have caused you to look at me like that now."

My voice faltered. "You haven't been exactly kind to me. Partly it has its reasons, but you can't justify everything with your past. However, what happened during training today wasn't your fault."

Jace's lips tightened in dissatisfaction, his face turning into a mask of bitterness. "My past is something I don't want to talk about. You're right that I can't justify everything with it, but I can't change how I feel. How do you justify the things you said to me in the library?"

"I know my words weren't fair that day," I replied, trying to keep the sharpness out of my voice. There was no use meeting his anger with my own. "I would have held back if you had contained this immense hatred for me, Jace. I was fed up with always having to be on the receiving end. It wasn't fair how you treated me and if you can't be on that end yourself that's more your problem than mine."

"Yeah, that's one of the reasons I'm here," Jace said then, the rejection gone from his voice as quickly as it had come. "When you yelled at Kadir, you said I despised you. You just said it again, but you have no idea. I'm here to set that straight." Jace hesitated for a moment, lips parted as if trying to find the right words. "I don't hate you, at least not anymore. I can't say exactly what happened since then, but things have changed. It's like I can see much more clearly now. Ever since you created that portal and Ithuriel showed us these images from our past, I've spent a lot of time thinking about everything. About my parents, their story, Valentine's story and about you and your story since you arrived in New York. Save for the angelic blood in my veins, you have spoken the truth from the beginning. About the rune, about your dreams, about Jonathan and his ... transformation."

I jumped at the mention of Jonathan's name. I didn't dare to smile, the words coming out of his mouth seemed too fragile to me. "First of all, I'm glad to hear that you don't hate me anymore, even if it seems kind of surreal to me. It was quite difficult to get through to you. The truth was right under your nose the whole time. All you had to do was listen."

"I was busy with other things. I'll be honest with you: The first few days, since I found out who you are, have been quite ... difficult for me. I was constantly furious and didn't know what to do with this anger. There was more than one moment when I thought it best to just kill you."

A nervous laugh escaped my throat. "Well, you've obviously changed your mind." The thought that he'd wanted to kill me had crossed my mind more than once at the time. I had given him credit for it, because of the way he had behaved towards me. What did he had to lose? His grandmother would have certainly been on his side. He needn't have feared death or the loss of his runes.

"You misunderstand." He cleared his throat, an awkward look of pain crossing his face. His golden eyes met mine and he reached out his hand towards me, only to make a fist with his fingers. He seemed desperate to convince me of the agony he'd been through over the past few weeks because of me. Then why was he so willing to tell me the truth when it seemed to weigh on him so much? "You don't know how it was, Clary. This pain of seeing you alive and knowing that my family would never be was unbearable. I imagined real scenarios, made plans. Twice I came close to doing it." His almost wild, pleading gaze fixed on me expectantly.

What did he expect from me? Did he want to hear that I forgave him? Did he want to hear that I understood him? Or did he want an apology for my own life? "You don't have to tell me these things, Jace. It's your personal story and I'm sure every decision you made was a difficult one. I can't share your pain, but I carry my own with me." A warm anger slowly spread through my veins. I wasn't here to justify myself. All the Nephilim had experienced pain and agony, he acted like he was the only one who lost something. What reaction do you expect when you're about to tell your potential murder victim that you intended to kill them? Not exactly the best subject, is it?

Jace seemed to realize his words weren't the most appropriate thing to say. Maybe he sensed my mood swing. Somehow I felt sorry for him, under the shadow of anger, because he actually seemed to want to come clean. But what was he hoping for? Actually, he didn't strike me as the type of person who was consumed by guilt day and night. Just the look in his eyes and the words he had just spoken gave an idea of a suffering behind this wall, the extent of which I could not grasp. "Well, actually it doesn't really matter. You don't have to accept my apology. I just wanted you to know. I still don't know if you're just fooling all of us, but if you are, I'll find out."

Now he was more like the Jace I'd gotten to know for the past few weeks. He turned to me and swung his legs off the windowsill. The mask of arrogance and self-confidence was now back over his face, hiding what he really felt. At that, he was really good; hiding his feelings.

"We'll see how things go," I replied coolly, leaning back in my chair and regarding him with wary eyes.

Jace nodded and his eyes wandered towards the door. "It's late. Before I go, answer me one more question. Why didn't you tell me about the angelic blood?"

I hesitated. "My mother had told me about my father's experiments when we were on the trip to New York. She told me about Céline Herondale, with whom she had a friendship that Valentine used to experiment with Ithuriel's blood on another pregnant woman. After your father died, he cut– You know what happened, anyway the Clave found her before my father did. Otherwise ..."

"Otherwise I might have grown up with you and your brother," Jace finished in a whisper, all emotion drained from his voice.

"That would be one of the options," I continued, shrugging slightly. "I never found out what he planned to do with you. When we first met at the Institute and you introduced yourself as Jace Herondale, I was confused because my mother used to call you Jonathan in her stories. I wasn't sure who you were until after I introduced myself and saw your reaction. After that, there wasn't a long time to tell you the truth. You probably wouldn't have believed me anyway. If I had known what your grandmother was going to do to me in front of the assembled Clave, I would have told you beforehand. I didn't want to reveal your secret to the public because I had no right to tell anyone but you."

Jace had his head down and stared at his feet for a moment, which were dangling in the air. Then he looked up and our eyes met. "Thanks for telling me."

Without waiting for an answer from me, his wiry frame jumped off the ledge and passed me. The smell of aftershave reached me. He smelled of fresh spring wind and woody-sweet maple. His every fluid movement brimmed with pride as he opened the door.

"You don't have to like me, Jace," I said out of nowhere, waiting for him to turn to me one last time before continuing. "But you have to accept me."

Jace gave me a noncommittal look, but seemed to pause in place for a moment before disappearing into the darkness. His ash blonde hair was the last thing I saw before he quietly closed the door behind him.

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Skyllen