Part 3 "The Fight of Angels and Demons"

Chapter 62 – Loud Minorities

Jace and I jumped, and our foreheads collided. Within a second, Jace had his right hand outstretched toward the witch-light. The cell gleamed in the whitish glow of the light, causing both of us to blink in response.

The screaming had stopped, but the tension didn't leave our muscles. Almost at the same time, we leaned toward the window and from Jace's narrowed brows I could tell he was hearing something.

"What's going on there? What do you hear?" I whispered as quietly as possible. Now that I could finally see him, the first thing I noticed was his disheveled hair. Then his pupils darted from the window to me, and I wasn't sure if they were dilated from fright or passion.

We looked at each other for a brief moment, apparently realizing what had just happened between us. But Jace didn't look angry or resentful. His serious features softened, and he fished his stele from the ground. I didn't stop him as he pulled back my jacket to expose my forearm.

"Audibility rune," he explained in a barely audible murmur. He finished, leaning back and shifting his attention back to the window.

The voices that had just remained hidden from me now stood out clearly from the silence. Still quiet like a distant whisper, but still understandable if you tried hard. They had to be several cells away from us. Whoever they were.

"No, you damn idiots!" someone hissed, exhausted, frightened and angry at the same time. "Do I look like a girl to you?!"

"It's not like we can get close enough to the bars to check," someone replied, distant and annoyed. A dark, rough voice. "They're secured from the outside, too. Never mind."

Silence followed. And footsteps padding through the grass. The following call seemed closer. As if the person speaking had stalked to the next cell window. "Hey, you, wake up!" the same voice from before called, more unfriendly now. A man, probably middle-aged.

Jace and I held our breath as we waited for the answer. But there wasn't any. Whoever was in the cell was probably sleeping too soundly, or simply wasn't interested in responding. A rumble pierced the night and then another scream.

"What the hell?" A boy. Maybe not even of legal age. I assumed it was one of Blake's friends. Here in the darkness, away from his strengthening group, he sounded frightened. And slumberous.

"No girl either, I suppose," was all the man replied and continued on without saying another word.

Two cells and many frightened shouts later, the gravel near our window finally crunched. Jace and I exchanged a look. A moment later he had pushed me off his lap. He turned on his side, me with him. Pressing my back against the cold wall, he pulled up the blanket and threw it over my head. The witch-light went out and his arms closed around my body; protective and calculating.

Even under the covers, I could hear the man's feet coming to a stop, could hear his heavy breathing as he bent down to the level of the bars. Jace reacted before he could throw his stone into the cell.

"I'm awake," he stated with mock indignation. "So don't bother. Given how loud you are, I wouldn't be surprised if half the Gard has already gotten wind of you." Jace was good at this: That perfect blend of arrogance, sarcasm, and conceit that drove you insane with each successive sentence of lecturing.

"You would know," the man growled back. I expected him to move on, just like the other cells. He decided to stay. "Are you one of Ashdown's guys too?"

"Ashdown?" Jace laughed in amusement, making the man fidget instead of giving him what he wanted. "The boy who was beaten in a duel by Clarissa Morgenstern yesterday?"

"You know her?" the man now asked with interest.

"Everyone knows her, fool." Jace yawned boredly. "Is she the girl you're looking for?"

"How–"

"Are you even a Nephilim? Your incompetence in moving silently makes me doubt it. It's said that the position of Consul has just become vacant. If I were Consul, I would kick incompetent people like you out of the Clave immediately." Jace laughed again.

"Watch what you say, boy," the man growled, now closer to the bars than before.

"Otherwise, what? You're coming in? I'd like to see that," Jace replied ironically, and you could practically hear the grin on his face.

The man sighed in frustration. "The Morningstar girl is here, in this prison. You know where?"

"So, I'm a psychic now? Can I see through walls? Damnit, how am I supposed to know which cell she's in? I take all my information from the guards when they chatter outside my door. And they've been doing that quite a bit in the last few days. A lot must be happening down in Alicante. Care to tell me about it?"

"Useless," the man muttered under a breath before raising his voice. "Even if I had time, for all I know, you could be a dirty Downworlder. I have more important things to do."

"You disturb my sleep, insult me, so I think I'm entitled to at least know the reason for all this commotion," Jace purred with a dramatic undertone; enough indignation in it to suggest agitation. And who would want to incur the wrath of a potential Shadowworlder? "Are you going to disturb my peace every night from now on to bother this girl with your presence?"

"Don't worry," the man replied, sounding amused himself for the first time. "One night of my presence will be enough to free you from her presence."

oOo

The man, whoever he was, was wrong. When morning finally came I was still alive. Not entirely surprising, but I had seen with my own eyes what Blake and his friends were capable of when they set a goal. I would never make the mistake of underestimating any of them again.

Jace hadn't closed his eyes the rest of the night. He probably wasn't comfortable with the whole Ashdown thing either. But I had been too tired to keep him company. Half a night's sleep wasn't enough to recover from the previous day, so I had fallen asleep again shortly after the man had left. With his strong arms around my body, it had felt surprisingly easy.

Now that the morning sun was shining through our window and the temperature had finally risen, I sat cross-legged on the bed and watched Jace pace around the room. Better than his workout routine, which he had previously gone through until sweat had rolled down his forehead. He couldn't sit still, couldn't wait, and desperately wanted to tell his grandmother about his nightly encounter with this man. He was stressing himself out for absolutely nothing as there was still no response from the guards on the other side of the door. As if they had completely forgotten my existence. And Jace's too.

Judging by the direction of the light, it was almost midday when Jace's hammering attempts at knocking on the iron door finally got a response. His knuckles had already turned a reddish color when a deep murmur reached us from the other side. Jace took a step back, almost staggering. The surprise on his face turned to anger as he gave me a sideways glance.

"If they don't bring breakfast, I'll go crazy," he murmured and my lips twitched.

The door swung inwards, and our eyes widened as we found ourselves confronted with an entire escort of Shadowhunters. The personal guard of the Inquisitor, including other members, among them Malik, who was under Maryse's command. Each of them wore armored combat gear and was armed to the teeth.

"No breakfast," Jace stated resignedly.

The Nephilim's serious faces changed to masks of astonishment as they found themselves confronted not only with me, but with Jace as well. The whole scene, the way Jace stared at his grandmother's guards and the way they stared back, was so out of place it was funny. I slowly got to my feet and walked over to Jace, clenching my mouth to keep from laughing at the sight of their faces.

"Jace Herondale," the leader of the guard stated, narrowing her eyes at him. "What are you doing here?"

"You should ask your guards that, they forgot me in here last night," replied Jace, shrugging his shoulders with a smile. "It's pretty cold in here," he then added. "And is it common for there to be no regular meals for the prisoners? It's really fascinating how this prison is run."

The woman's eyes darkened, her features more under control again. With the coldness in her eyes, it was no wonder she was in the employ of the Inquisitor; they certainly got along wonderfully. "We have been assigned to accompany Clarissa Morgenstern to the Clave's meeting that is coming up shortly," she replied instead, ignoring Jace. In fact, she didn't even pay attention to him anymore, but looked straight at me. "A decision has been reached."

I nodded automatically and stepped forward. "Then I don't want to keep them waiting."

The hallway was full of Shadowhunters. Apparently it wasn't just me who was summoned by the Inquisitor, but Blake's followers as well. One by one they were taken out of their cells and lined up one behind the other on the opposite wall. For a moment our eyes met across the hallway. Their blazing anger met my indifference. Six to one. I wasn't afraid of them. Blake was the one who had made me doubt. But they ... they were nothing more than henchmen. I also wanted to see them suffer, but that wasn't as high on my priority list as other things.

Behind me, I felt Jace stepping out of the cell, his body suddenly charged with tension like a cloud right before a storm. He stopped at my level, and a glance in his direction revealed that, unlike me, he hadn't managed to contain his anger; that my story from last night was still vividly present in his mind.

Despite everything, I flinched in surprise when, moments later, Jace lunged forward and punched the nearest of the boys squarely in the face with a clenched fist. So forcefully that his head slammed against the stone wall, and he staggered to the ground.

The guards rushed forward in the same instant as the rest of Blake's gang sprang to life. A smirk tugged at my lips because none of them even came close to reaching Jace. He had already taken down the second one when two of the guards grabbed him by the shoulders and could only just manage to pull him back.

Jace was forcibly turned towards me, and our eyes met across the corridor. The rage in his eyes softened as he recognized the amusement on my face. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and tilted my head slightly. "I wonder what Imogen would have to say about this."

"After everything that's happened in the past few days, she'd probably be pretty pissed," he replied, half-smirking, and broke free from the guards. Distracted, he turned his head to survey the boys now lying behind him.

The now heated atmosphere simmered dangerously. The guards seemed to realize that they should get us out of here quickly to avoid a second altercation. They positioned themselves between our groups, defining the fronts, and gestured with a nod for me and Jace to start moving. Turning our backs to Blake's friends, unarmed mind you, went against every instinct I had. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck tense up. Anticipation hung in the air. Yet too many Nephilim separated them from us. The Inquisitor had thought ahead, it seemed.

The murderous glares, knives aimed at our backs, darkened Jace's face in a new wave of rising aggression. His arm brushed against my shoulder as we climbed the stairs, heading out into the open. "I want to tear them all to shreds," he said, his voice trembling with resentment, the grudge omnipresent.

My fingers found his and gripped them tightly. Jace returned the squeeze with such intensity that it cut off the blood flow to my hand. I didn't mention it to him. "They will get what they deserve."

"No, they won't. They deserve death. Every single one of them." Again, he glanced backward, peering past the guards. His lips twisted into a contemptuous mask, as if he might start shouting at any moment. "Every time I look at them, I see your face, and I want to kill them all. You didn't see yourself, Clary. You should have seen yourself yesterday. Even without all the blood—" He faltered, almost stumbling as his voice began to waver. "That expression on your face ... It was enough."

My hand twitched in his, and Jace, who knew my aversion to weakness all too well, didn't allow me to pull away from him. "Thanks for the reminder," I muttered darkly.

"I know you can take care of yourself. You proved that more than enough yesterday. But that doesn't mean I will stand by silently while someone hurts you. I will always defend you. Especially because you usually hold back more than you should."

His statement elicited a snort from me. "I have myself under control so well that it usually only takes a provocative sentence to send me into a rage."

"Your patience could have run out much earlier," was all Jace replied.

The way to the Gard's gate was not far. It was the same building, after all, except that the prison wasn't directly connected to the rest. And yet we barely made any progress. Because I was already expected.

The faces of my escort hardened as we approached the people who had stood in our way. Twenty, maybe thirty Nephilim, all dressed in white. Their faces were carved in stone, a mask of anger, and their calls were loud, sharp and demanding. It took me a moment to realize who their grief was for. At first I didn't understand that their anger was directed at me, that they were calling me a murderer, that they were shouting Blake's name and those of his seven fallen friends. These Shadowhunters were here because I had killed their children, friends, and family members. And they all hated me with the deepest fervor.

"These are followers of the Cohort," Jace explained at my side. "They are a political group on the Clave that wants to restrict the rights of Shadowworlders." He sounded grim and returned the stares he received from his position next to me with dark challenge. As if he was just waiting for one of them to get tired of just shouting.

"Of course, Blake was one of them. They hate Shadowworlders, me too apparently, but still work with my father. Does all of this actually make sense in their own eyes?"

Jace didn't get the chance to answer me because the commotion suddenly seemed to become divisive. The guards in front of us pushed further through the crowd that now surrounded us on all sides, almost fighting their way through to escort us past them to the Gard's gates. It wasn't far anymore. Maybe a few dozen meters.

Suddenly the air on my right side began to hiss. Jace and I spun almost simultaneously in the direction of the sound, ducking just in time to avoid a dagger flying straight toward our heads. Someone behind us shouted. Then chaos broke out.

The Cohort that had been protesting had now come to life and were rushing towards the escort of guards. Nephilim were closing in on us from all sides, trying to reach me and Jace. Bared teeth, flaming eyes, silver weapons. The only thing separating them from us were the members of the guard. In the corridors of the prison, they had seemed far in the majority, but out here the tide was turning.

We were surrounded. Jace grabbed my arm and thrust one of his blades into my hands before spinning frantically as if searching for a way out. There was none. My eyes were fixed on the entrance to the Gard, from which more and more Shadowhunters were now storming out. Hopefully to help us.

A blink of an eye later, the members of the Cohort had broken through the wall of guards to our left. I had just enough time to raise Jace's sword before two of them reached us. They were everywhere. Too many for us to be able to defend ourselves against them for long.

Jace spun around to secure my backside. He pressed his back against mine and suddenly we merged into one person. As if we shared a mind, we adapted our movements to each other's, we defended each other's blind sides, we kept our opponents far enough away that they had no chance of hitting one of us. As if we had practiced this situation hundreds of times before.

The moment exploded in a blaze of blue sparks and the crowd of Cohort members fell back, suddenly having to secure their own flanks as a group of Shadowworlders joined the fray. I peered toward the Gard and spotted Magnus standing just a few feet away from us, catapulting two Nephilim into the air with nothing more than a bored snap of his fingers. Luke ran past him, straight towards me. Werewolves and vampires had joined them to allow us passage to the doors. They wouldn't dare continue fighting inside. At least I hoped so.

Even without his werewolf form, Luke had enough raw strength to easily knock over the Nephilim that stood in his way. It was clear from his fluid movements that he had once been one of us. Only Shadowhunter training made one so smooth. Especially given his size. A few moments later, Luke had pushed his way to Jace and me.

The Cohort was no longer in the majority. The fact that this was thanks to Shadowworlders who, according to them, shouldn't even be in Alicante, made them mad. So far the conflict seems to have been pretty bloodless, as I noticed with a quick scan of the people. When Nephilim met Nephilim it was more like a struggle for the upper hand; unless they were facing me. They wanted to hurt me.

"You have to get out of here," Luke said in a deep voice. He grabbed my wrist and with a quick glance over my shoulder at Jace, I let him lead me to the Gard's gates. More and more Shadowhunters joined the fray as it became clear that the Cohort was about to massacre the Shadowworlders if no one intervened. Somewhere in the distance I heard Alec's voice booming through the commotion, but my eyes didn't find him.

"How can the Cohort have so much power on the Clave when they have so few people?" I asked Luke, after the people's attention had finally shifted from me to the Shadowworlders. Panting, we came to a halt in front of the gates and watched the chaos from the distance, which seemed to slowly dissipate.

"There are a lot more," Luke answered shortly. He massaged the muscles in his neck as he looked at the Nephilim screaming in the faces of werewolves and vampires, insulting them, threatening them. "These are just those who are violent enough to attack an Inquisitor's escort in broad daylight." Which was an extraordinary act, now that I looked at it that way. How much did they detest me to do such a thing?

"Thanks for getting us out of there." Jace's fingers brushed against mine as he took the sword from my hands and placed it back on his belt. He crossed his arms over his chest and an exhausted sigh escaped his throat. "What has gotten into these people?"

Luke's eyes darted between Jace and me. Mustering. His muscles relaxed a little and a half-smile appeared on his face. "The same thing that has always gotten into them. But fortunately, they are far from a majority on the Clave, especially since you realized that you won't survive the war against Valentine without us."

"Hmm," grumbled Jace disgruntledly, brushing some strands of golden hair from his forehead. "I've completely forgotten about the war."

"Given what awaits you inside, it's probably better that way today. You should go in. The Clave meeting is starting any minute." Luke gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder and I forced a smile.

I liked Luke. His aura always radiated a calm, a stability that I had lost in my own life far too long ago. And at the same time, every look at his face reminded me of my mother. Sometimes it felt like my subconscious was waiting for a part of her to jump out of it. That if I waited long enough, the spirit of her would return to me through him. But the woman he had known was different from the one my mother had been. His Jocelyn came from a different time, was a different version of my Jocelyn. A younger, earlier version.

"Thank you," I said, my mind half in another version of this world. A world in which my mother was still alive, walking through these streets, entering this building, still being part of this society. That was his Jocelyn.

Then I turned to Jace, who exchanged a look with Luke. I felt like I was missing something. Until his golden eyes met mine and I could see that the expression on my face hadn't gone unnoticed. When I started moving he followed me without hesitation; without addressing me about it. There was so much going through my head that I barely had time to realize last night's kiss. It felt half like a dream. Nothing had changed between us. Everything seemed as usual. Whatever that was then.

Side by side, Jace and I walked through the Gard's foyer. Heads turned in our direction, eyes meeting and following us as we passed groups of Nephilim. The emotions on their faces had changed. The resentment had not completely disappeared, but it had subsided significantly. What resonated more strongly was an intentional distance, as if no one really knew what to do with me. As if now that I was no longer my father's murderous weapon in many eyes, no one really knew who I actually was.

We reached the anteroom of the Clave's chamber, whose wooden double doors were wide open. The last time I'd been here, Adam and I had stood in the shadow of one of the pillars before Blake had joined us and he and I had ignited all the conflict that had followed. It had started here. Maybe it ended here today.

Blake was dead, so he couldn't win anymore. But I could still lose.

And as if fate itself could not help but confront me with Ashdowns in this room, at that moment – out of nowhere – Cynthia Ashdown appeared before us. There were still enough people in the room to immediately stop another argument. But that wouldn't be necessary. She was alone. Wherever her Cohort friends were, or her husband, none of them were with her.

Blake's mother looked worse than yesterday. Dark circles framed her light blue eyes. Barely noticeable white scars adorned her rounded jaw, which I had missed yesterday. But now I remembered how I had pushed her against a mirror while escaping from her country house. Despite the obvious exhaustion that stung me, she fixed me with a hateful gaze. She looked so much like Blake that it left me speechless.

"That they let you roam freely is proof of our lax laws," Cynthia Ashdown hissed in a venomous tone. "Just as lax as your punishment will be in your trial before the Clave."

Her words had barely registered with me when she suddenly raised her right arm, which had been hidden under her coat. In a sudden movement, Cynthia closed the distance to me and something silver flashed in the air between us.

My ingrained reflexes reacted faster than my brain. The words that left her lips sent adrenaline pumping through my veins. My legs started moving beneath me and before I knew it, my body swerved to the side. The dagger hissed between Jace and me, sliding through the air where I had just been standing. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jace's hands shooting out. But I was faster. It wasn't my consciousness that was acting. It was a primal instinct, for which I had to thank my father.

My eyes blinked as my boot shot towards Cynthia and she lost her footing. She hadn't finished falling when my left hand closed around her wrist, with which she was clutching the dagger. I squeezed until she let go and then pushed her away. She landed on the polished marble floor and Jace grabbed the dagger before she could try anything even more daring. He was just about to approach her, bursting into another fit of rage, when I found my voice.

"Trial?" My tone caused Jace to whirl around, Blake's mother forgotten on the floor. I didn't sound like I had just disarmed someone who was trying to kill me in the midst of other Nephilim. From a distance I noticed some figures approaching us, but the adrenaline continued to pump through my veins. Stronger as my wide eyes met Cynthia's.

"They will question you and the other defendants before the Clave," she spat at me, finally getting to her feet. Her stern braid swung back and forth wildly with her impulsive gestures. "They don't even trust you enough to inform you about it, yet they expect us to overlook your crimes. This double standard." Then she turned abruptly on her heel and pushed herself into the Clave chamber.

My heart started beating faster. Faster was an understatement. It started racing, as if it wanted to run away. I felt my facial features slipping away. I felt the razor-sharp panic coursing through my limbs, making my lips quiver, taking my breath away, blurring my vision.

I was peripherally aware of Jace's worried face, which pushed itself right in front of me and blocked out the rest of the world. I couldn't breathe. Memories of my last trial flashed past my mind's eye and suddenly I was stumbling backwards, away from the double doors, into the shadows of the pillars as if they could protect me.

"I can't do this," I managed, clenching my hands into fists. Just the thought of having that truth rune applied to me again made me shudder. That first trial before the Clave had been a painful humiliation. I couldn't go through that again.

"What can't you do?" Jace's hands gripped my shoulders and he pushed me deeper into the shadows. Until a wide column made most of the anteroom disappear. I could feel the wall at my back. "Talk to me, Clary."

"I can't do this again," I repeated, squeezing my eyelids shut to focus on my breathing to contain my racing thoughts. "That rune ... that spell from last time. This humiliation, this concentrated hatred, this pain. If something is as bad as what Blake did to me in the country house, this rune comes very close."

"Look at me," Jace demanded and I raised my head, trying to keep myself together.

You're weak , I heard my father chide. You are a Morningstar. You are not afraid of anything. Go out there with your head held high and let it happen. You are just making a fool of yourself with this show of emotions. A warrior does not show his emotions and is able to keep them under control.

"I know you're scared," Jace said, bursting the bubble I'd drifted into. His face was so close to mine that I could see the different facets of gold in his irises. " I promise you it won't be as bad as last time. I won't allow it to end like last time."

"How are you going to do that?" I asked, the syllables in my sentence strung together strangely.

Jace's arms wrapped around my waist and he leaned toward me. His cheek brushed mine and suddenly there was another reason why my breath caught in my throat. His mouth tickled my ear. "I am resourceful. I also have some influence on my grandmother."

My head leaned towards him of its own accord. I pressed my forehead against his chest and gave myself a few minutes to calm down. "You have to get in there," Jace finally added, but not in the tone my father would use. "You have to hold them accountable. You have the power to do this. Blake's friends are the future of the Cohort. This uprising must be nipped in the bud before it escalates. You can be the one who puts out the fire."

"You're right." I pressed my hands against Jace's body and stood up straighter. He was right. I hadn't killed Blake for nothing. I hadn't gone through all this drama for nothing. I had not suffered in vain. This had to have a good ending.

Blake was dead, he couldn't win anymore. But I still had the chance to win.

"Let's finish these people off."

-

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