The Mortal Instruments (Book 1-3)

14. Swearing in Church and Other Unholy Things

At night the Diamond Street church looked spectral, its Gothic arched windows reflecting the moonlight like silvery mirrors. A wrought iron fence surrounded the building and was painted a matte black. Clary rattled the front gate, but a sturdy padlock held it closed. Jace stepped forward, brandishing his stele and getting to work.

Daphne watched him as he worked at the lock, watched the lean curve of his back, the swell of muscles under the short sleeves of his T-shirt. The moonlight washed the color out of his hair, turning it more silver than gold.

The padlock hit the ground with a clang, a twisted lump of metal. Jace looked pleased with himself. "As usual," he said, "I'm amazingly good at that."

Clary looked annoyed. "When the self-congratulatory part of the evening is over, maybe we could get back to saving my best friend from being exsanguinated to death?"

"Exsanguinated," Daphne mused. "to drain a person, animal, or organ of blood."

Jace looked at Clary, impressed. "That's a big word."

"And you're a big—"

"Tsk tsk," He interrupted. "No swearing in church."

"We're not in the church yet." Clary muttered. The three of them walked up the stone path to the double front doors. The stone arch above the doors was beautifully carved, an angel looking down from its highest point.

Clary bit her lip. "It seems wrong to pick the lock on a church door, somehow."

Jace's profile in the moonlight was serene. "We're not going to." he said, sliding his stele into his pocket. He placed a thin brown hand, marked all over with delicate white scars like a veiling of lace, against the wood of the door, just above the latch. "In the name of the Clave," He said, "I ask entry to this holy place. In the name of the Battle That Never Ends, I ask the use of your weapons. And in the name of the Angel Raziel, I ask your blessings on my mission against the darkness."

Jace didn't move, though the night wind blew his hair into his eyes; he blinked, and after a moment, the door opened with a click and a creak of hinges. It swung inward smoothly before them, opening onto a cool dark empty space, lit by points of fire.

Jace stepped back. "After you, my lady." He grinned, gesturing towards Daphne.

Daphne rolled her eyes in amusement. "Why thank you, fine sir," she mocked, entering first. The rest of them followed, though Clary gave a small, barely noticeable shiver.

"The stone walls keep out the heat." said Jace, frowning.

"It's not that." she said. "You know, I've never been in a church before."

"You've been in the Institute." Daphne pointed out.

"I mean in a real church. For services. That sort of thing."

"Really. Well, this is the nave, where the pews are. It's where people sit during services." Jace pointed. "Up here is the apse. That's where we're standing. And this is the altar, where the priest performs the Eucharist. It's always at the east side of the church." 

He knelt down in front of the altar, and for a moment it looked like he was praying. The altar itself was high, made of a dark granite, and draped with a red cloth. Behind it loomed an ornate gold screen, etched with the figures of saints and martyrs, each with a flat gold disk behind his head representing a halo. "Jace," Clary whispered, "What are you doing?"

"He's looking for weapons," Daphne said as she knelt down beside him, placing her hands down on the stone floor next to his, and moving them back and forth rapidly as she helped him search.