City Of Bones

Chapter 21

Flashes of light blinded Clary's sight. She put her arm up to shield her eyes as families took pictures, glowing as they posed together in groups. They surrounded her, a picture perfect moment, and Clary felt a pang of sorrow as she watched the family closest to her smile for the cameraman. They had a daughter and son, the little boy older than the girl by perhaps two years. He was dressed in an elegant tux while his sister was woven in an emerald green dress. It was a charming family, dangerous beauty radiated from each member but beneath the picture perfect smiles there were cracks. The mother stood distant from the father and son. She was clinging onto her little girl's hand, keeping her on her left side, opposite from her father. Her smile was tight, broken. In a blink of an eye, they were gone.

Clary's heart contracted slightly. She looked down at herself in shock; she was wearing the same dress as the little girl from the perfect family. She was alone in the street. There was no mother clinging onto her or father to hold her. No brother to protect her. She never felt so alone.

The scenery around her morphed into a ballroom filled with white luminal lights. The floors were shining beneath Clary's feet which were uncomfortably placed in black high heels. Her dress was shorter now to her mid thigh and she felt oddly exposed. She had white lace woven along her shoulders and arms and a sleek white dress tightly gripping her body. Unconsciously, she put her arms around her.

"Cold?" A voice whispered behind her and Clary jumped up, startled. She turned to face Jace dressed in a pure white suit. Slowly, her mind put the pieces together of her last reencounter with him.

"Jace, I'm so sorry-," she started but didn't know what she was supposed to say next. Fortunately, he cut her off and placed his hand under her chin.

"There's nothing to be sorry for." He replied sweetly. Clary knew something was different. The darkness in his eyes, the cracks and sorrow of a broken child were gone. He was genuinely happy, a smile stuck on his face that she has never seen before. It made her happy to see him like this. Jace wove his arm around her and pulled her closer. She placed her hand in his and he gripped it softly. Slowly, they moved to the music, never moving their eyes from each others. Clary felt oddly at peace but there was something itching at the back of her mind. Something that told her this was wrong and unreal, that this moment could not be happening. Naturally, Clary ignored the worries and pressed her head against his warm chest and wound her arms around his neck. Suddenly, she froze in place.

"Clary?" Jace called but his voice seemed distant, it didn't come out of the boy dancing with her. Her blood ran cold. She couldn't hear his heart beat. She pulled away slowly to look at him and the darkness and grief had retuned to his eyes, his lips parted in silence. Her hand around his neck suddenly felt warm to the touch. Clary pulled her hand away and stared in astonishment.

Blood soaked her palms in a deep red. It wasn't a natural color of blood, it look as if someone had mixed black ink with it. The back of Jace's head was covered in blood, trickling down his white shirt and staining the shiny marble floors. She couldn't seem to find her voice.

"You don't understand anything," Jace laughed. Clary looked away from her palms stunned. The blood was now trickling from his mouth down his chin but he continued to smile menacingly as if he took no notice to the blood pooling from the back of his head. "I won. You know that right? I know you, I know everything about you." His words made no sense to her, she was oblivious to whatever point he was trying to get across. "It's a game and we are the players."

At that moment, the blood overcame Jace and started to pool out of his eyes, mouth, and nose. His once pure white suit was now soaked in dark red; you never would've guessed it was white screamed a blood curdling cry, her eyes shut tightly, hoping the image would disappear. When she reopened them, she was home. Her bedroom door stood a few feet away, her books lay along the floor and her sketchbook was sitting on the couch. On top of the coffee table was something out of place. It was a picture. Clary pushed away the image of a bleeding Jace and made her way to the photo. Peering down, she recognized it as a photo of the Circle.