City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments Fan-fic)

Chapter 4: A Fire Inside

"There, done." Jace sighed as the pain in his arm subsided. He stared at the iratze as it faded slowly into the flesh on his shoulder. He flexed it, checking for more any damage. But other than the specks of demon poison he had been sprayed with, the rune had healed him almost completely.

"Thanks," Jace said, looking at Alec. He had straightened and was trying to look interested in his gear, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.. Jace turned and glanced up, immediately understanding why Alec felt so uncomfortable. Magnus Bane knelt next to a wounded werewolf, sparks flying from his splayed hands like he a firecracker. His glittery, shiny clothes and spiky hair stood out like a sore thumb in the grimy place.

Jace frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. He looked around the room, eyes half-closed in exhaustion. Saying that the atmosphere was depressed was an understatement. The lobby was a mess, the floor coated with blood like a fresh coat of crimson paint, smeared in places where bodies collided in battle. Scratches gauged deep into the floor and walls, turning the faded wallpaper into shreds. Shadowhunters and werewolves lay or sat on the bloodstained wood, tending to injuries. In the corner of the room, covered by thick white cloths, lay several dead bodies. Jace could make out faint outlines of the figures, some in the shape of a wolf, some human.

He adverted his eyes quickly, his throat tasting of bile as he stared at the wrecked lobby. The last of the demons had either retreated or been killed by the force of Shadowhunters, but not before causing such a disaster. Despite the sight of such carnage, Jace felt a sense of guilty relief that none of the people he knew had been killed.

Clary sat next to Luke and Simon, who were both already healing from wounds inflicted from the battle. Clary looked well enough, though Jace couldn't tell much from where he stood next Alec and Izzy. He felt a kind of tiredness so deep it seemed to reach the core of his bones. He slouched against the wall, slowly sliding down to the ground. He buried his head in his hands, trying to erase the image of blood from beneath his eyelids. The smell of metallic blood filling the dense air did not help him.

After a while, Jace felt Alec sit next to him, later joined by Isabelle. They had both been a part of the battle, but were relatively unharmed. Jace looked up to see Maryse and Kadir, along with a few other Shadowhunters and Jordan, approach Luke, Clary and Simon. They all stood after a while and approached where Jace sat with his siblings.

"Come on, you three. We need to talk." Maryse's eyes were dark, her face tired but serious. "Now," she added as none of them made a move to stand. Jace followed the others, trailing behind. Clary fell into step behind him, tentatively taking his hand. A small spark like an electric shock shot up when they touched, but she ignored it and firmly gripped it, as if for reassurance. Jace stared at her, finding comfort in her familiar messy hair and small figure. Clary looked up, meeting his gaze with her beautiful green eyes. But they said nothing. Jace didn't feel like talking, let alone having a meeting of sorts with all these people.

The group picked their way across the room, careful not to step on anyone or anything. Luke took the lead and reached the door first. He looked back, hand on the handle of the door, and said, "Let's go to Freaky Pete's office; we'll have more privacy there." Maryse looked like she was about to ask who the heck would be named Freaky Pete, but seemed to think better of it and simply followed Luke though the door.

Jace rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to pay attention to the conversation while his head felt like it was being crushed by a hammer.

"So, tell me what happened again?" Maryse asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. They had gotten nowhere in this conversation, repeating in circles, explaining the evening's long events. Jace had begun to long for his comfortable bed back at the Institute. Instead, he was stuck standing in the stuffy office filled with clutter and drab wallpaper.