City of Heavenly Fire

Chapter One

*GO TO CHAPTER 6 BEFORE YOU READ THIS STORY!*

*A/N*

Okay, so the prologue was set in two different time periods, Victorian London (TID) and modern 'New York' (TMI). The story is now going to stay in the same time period, which will be 2014 New York. As of right now it is to be told through the POV of the Shadowhunters living at the New York Institute.

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Chapter One

He started at the target, his knife vibrating in the middle of it. He had been in the training room for hours. It was the first place he had gone since the Silent Brothers had declared him well enough to leave that prison of an infirmary.

He heard the door open, slowly, and soft footsteps, before the door was closed behind the intruder.

'Jace?'

Hw knew her voice by now. He could tell when she was sad, or disappointed, or anxious. But this was new to him. Something different.

He turned to her, his damp hair curling at the temples, wet with sweat. Clary took a step closer to him and, cautiously, ran her hand through the boy's golden hair. He closed his eyes, comforted by the familiar gesture.

'Izzy told me you were released.' Clary's voice was quiet, cautious. And he suddenly knew. She still felt like this whole thing was her fault.

Despite his conscience, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She made a noise of surprise and began to say his name. But he cut her off.

'I missed you.'

It had been days since her last visit. She couldn't bring herself to come and visit him, especially in that goddamned infirmary. She couldn't walk in there and see him in that horrid white hospital bed, with its rigid corners and plain white sheets. So much like Jace's own room, yet so different.

No, she couldn't walk in there and see him like that. Not knowing that it was her fault that he was that way.

He leaned down until his forehead was against hers.

'Why didn't you visit?'

Clary shook her head, not wanting to tell him. Her read hair shook in her ponytail holder.

Jace rose his hand to cup her cheek, worried.

'You would tell me right? If something was wrong?'

She nodded, her green eyes cast towards the floor. She raised them, looking into his gold ones. Some might say they were the color of honey, but she had yet to find the right description to do his eyes justice.

'I just.... Couldn't see you in there. In that damn room with all those beds. Beds just like the one in your room, with it's pulled corners and white sheets.'

She took a breath, whispering her last words.

'I couldn't stand to see you in that goddamn room knowing I put you there.'

Her eyes were downcast again, and he placed one of his long, pianist fingers under her chin, gently forcing her to look at him.

'Don't say that. It wasn't your fault. Please Clary, don't say that.'

A few tears fell from her closed eyes.

'If its anyone's fault, it's mine. I let myself bind him to me. I let it happen. I didn't fight it. You didn't damn me Clary. You saved me from hell.'

Her eyes settled on the scar on his chest. Sometime during his training, he had discarded his shirt, and she was forced to look at what she had created.