Half Truths

Luke Garroway.

Jace stared at Luke, his body tense and unmoving. Luke didn't just call Jace Agent. He couldn't have. The air around him grew thick and inhibiting, his lungs struggling to draw it in. "Excuse me?" Jace asked.

Luke stepped out onto the small porch and closed the door behind him, plunging both of them into the moonlit night. Silence blared in Jace's ears, weighing him down in its foreign quiet. He swore everything in the world was holding its breath to hear what Luke was going to say.

"I think you heard me, Agent Herondale."

"I don't know what you're—"

"I'm pretty sure you do." Luke sighed. "They've certainly trained you well. I'll give them that."

Jace swallowed, but said nothing. How did this man know who he was? No one should have known. Not only did the Agency cover themselves well, Jace wasn't even graduated yet. He wouldn't have been on any of the rosters. As far as the Agency was concerned, he didn't exist. Even though Jace couldn't yet see him, he could feel Luke's eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he was alert, watching every word that might make its way out of his mouth.

"I wasn't sure when Clary first mentioned you . . . I recognized your name, and thought maybe . . . but when I saw you—when I saw the unmistakable resemblance of Stephen Herondale, well, then, I knew for sure. And knowing your mother, I knew you would be one of them. Celine would never allow a son of hers not to pledge."

Jace swallowed. "You know my parents?" His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw Luke lean against the railing and cross his arms over his chest. Jace couldn't get used to the quiet. It unsettled him more in this situation than it normally would. He couldn't think. Without the noise of the city, every little thing was magnified. Laughter floated out from inside and Jace prayed none of them came out here. He couldn't have his cover blown. Not yet. Not when he was so close to figuring out who was after Clary.

"Knew. Back when we went through the Academy together." Luke's eyes met Jace's, and Jace raised his brows. "I'm retired. Have been for some time, but I still have contacts."

Jace still didn't speak. One of the first rules they were taught was that if the interrogator could get nothing out of them, they couldn't prove anything. So he stayed silent.

Luke stepped across the porch toward him, moving into a patch of moonlight. His eyes were kind but stern. An enigma Jace couldn't understand. How could he be both benign and demanding at the same time? Luke leaned forward. "I know you won't talk, Agent. The code is as ingrained in my mind as it is yours, but know this: I know what you're after, and she can't give it to you. Clary knows nothing. We made sure she knew nothing." He paused. "That girl is—"

The door opened suddenly, causing Jace to wrench his head back and Luke to turn. Clary stuck her head out. "Luke, are you torturing my boyfriend?" she teased.

Jace heard Luke suck in a breath before he quickly recovered. "Oh, no, of course not. We're just having a man-to-man chat," he turned to face Jace, "aren't we?"

"Sure." Jace nodded.

Clary rubbed her hands over her arms. "Well, hurry up and get in here. You'll both freeze to death standing out in the cold." She turned her gaze on Luke, and small smile formed on her lips as her eyes narrowed playfully. "And don't tell me you're not torturing him—I may not have been here in a few years, but I still remember how you operate."

Luke laughed and put his arm around Clary's shoulder, stepping over the threshold and into the house. "Never could put anything past you, could I?"

"Nuh uh." She giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

Luke gave Jace one last pointed look before releasing Clary and moving further into the house. Jace got the message. It clearly said: ' I'm not through with you yet.' Clary wrapped her arms around herself and stepped out onto the porch.