The Mortal Instruments: City of Tainted Blood (Book 2) (ON HOLD)

Chapter 16: Ruined Blood

Despite the tall pedestal Jace often put himself upon, he knew that time would not stop for any man, even if that man was the incredible Jace Herondale.

Yet, Jace had expected the manor to be bright and lit, clean and kept as if it's inhabitants had never left and still lived within its walls. He felt as if the chandelier's crystals should have been gleaming and the floors polished as they probably had been eighteen years ago.

Alec, Simon and Isabelle had taken off in different directions to explore, leaving Jace standing in the middle of the living quarters, his eyes absorbing everything he could, trying to find a piece of him that had remained lost to him for all his life, like a dry sponge thrown into a pail of water. He had thought he was already completed, whatever missing bits of him perfected and fitted now that Clary was back in his life but when he had stepped into the manor, it felt as if an extensive piece of him that he hadn't known existed had suddenly left him feeling hollow, disorientated and pained.

The walls were a gold color and the floor, once what was spotless white marble, was now blanketed in a fine layer of grey dust that didn't quite look like the dust back in New York that could be found so often covering any shelf or crevice untouched for a few mere days.

The bootprints of various sizes were imprinted into the dust, scattered all over the house where any one of them had walked.

"This place is huge." Alec said, his voice growing closer, echoing against the hard, cold, untouched surfaces.

Jace hummed in vague agreement. He registered that Alec had said something about the house but his brain was too busy drinking in every single detail his eyes were witnessing and scanning. He wanted to commit everything to memory, to forcibly engraved the details—rough and fine—to the absolute folds of his brain so he would never forget. For the rest of eternity, he wanted to recall the image of the manor perfectly—of a place he could have called home in another lifetime, if fate was kind.

He saw the lost years in his mind now. He saw tiny, toddler Jace Herondale waddling into the living room, followed closely by his father and giggling mother, arms extended to catch him if he were to fall. He saw himself as a young kid, tearing havoc through the house as he sparred playfully with his father and he saw himself as he was now, sneaking into the manor in the middle of the night, a certain green eyed, red headed beauty in tow as they tried their hardest to stay quiet while creeping up to his room.

Even Clary was in the life he never got to live.

Isabelle lopped gracefully into the room, shattering the illusion Jace had momentarily allowed himself to be submerged in, Simon tailing behind her, his eyes on the walls and his mouth slightly parted in dumbfounded awe. Alec joined them several moments after, his shoes ringing against the floor as he descended the stairs in light treads.

"The Clave should be in session soon. Shall we go?" Jace glanced at his wide eyed sister and nodded as if in some dream state. He furrowed his eyebrows and his mouth pulled into a shallow frown as he turned away from them, his consciousness clearing as the illusion faded further and further away. 

Pull yourself together, Herondale, Jace growled at himself and pulled out his stele and stepped onto the threshold, twirling the glowing instrument in his hand. He crouched down beside the doorway and pressed his stele to the stone and began to draw a particularly strong glamour rune that would hopefully make the manor look as uninviting as possible.

The rest of them pulled their hoods over their head, concealing most of their identity. It wasn't unusual to find Shadowhunters strolling about in their cloaks and hoods up so even if they were spotted no one would pay much attention (unless of course the reason they were spotted was for scaling the walls and roofs of buildings).