City of All Things Ruined - A Mortal Instruments Fan Fiction (COMPLETED)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30 - An Unfortunate Mannequin

JACE

Jace had ran straight back to the Institute.

He didn't stop when he heard shouts.

He didn't stop when he heard screams.

He didn't stop.

Jace swung the seraph blade in a wide arc down, severing its limb in a clean slice. The mannequins limp toppled to the wooden floor, landing with a loud clatter. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, almost matching the pace of his heavenly fire, which had his head spinning and his heart pounding so loud, he could physically feel his entire body beating to the tempo of his heart. His blonde hair was pasted to his forehead, and his clothes clung tightly to his body.

He was almost in a trance, sprinting and diving, swinging and somersaulting across the training room, which had not yet been repaired since Sebastian’s visit. Jace pictures him sneaking in, through an open window, a door forgotten to be locked – or being let in. Anger coursed through his muscles, and the next swing Jace took severed the leg of the mannequin, singed at the edges by his fire.

Alec looked up from his slow assault on the mannequin he was training with. He’d only just gotten out of his wheelchair, and now he was using his crutches to bash dummy back on fourth, doing little harm to it. Noticing Jace staring, Alec took an especially hard swing at the mannequin and dented the material. Jace threw him a look that screamed, “That’s the best you’ve got?

Jace returned his attention to his mannequin, and sifted through his thoughts to find him something that made him angriest. The answer appeared in seconds, blazing like a beacon in his mind, burned into his memory despite his constant attempts to remove it, or at least distract himself: Sebastian.

He thought of the possessive way Sebastian’s hand ran along Clary’s thigh, the way he had her pinned to the bed, the way he had his hands all over her. Jace was the only one who’s hands should be able to touch her like that. Next, he remembered his visit to Idris that seemed so far away now, fading in his memory, but in reality could not have been longer than a few months.

Idris was the shadowhunter capitol city, only accessible by shadowhunters, or downwordlers by the request of the inquisitor. When he had first met Sebastian, he had no idea that he was such a monster, but Jace had never liked him. There was always something... off about him.

Sebastian’s dyed black hair flashed through his mind, then a snippet of speech, then a thought – his imagination only. Sebastian had murdered Max. Max was still just a child, but his life had been prematurely robbed of him, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, so Jace swung at the mannequin, not just for Clary, but for Max.

The blade drove through the mannequins neck in a neat slice, sending it crashing down to the floor, swiftly followed by another arm, another leg, a shoulder. In mere minutes, the entire mannequin was in pieces, strewn across the floor as if there had been a massacre of 100 men, not just a single plastic dummy.

Alec snorted, then returned to his basic manoeuvres, swinging himself left and right, back and forth. Dodging imaginary attacks, parrying imaginary blows, training for an enemy that would not think to waste its time on him.

Jace stormed to the door of the training room, too stubborn to clean up the mess he had made. His heart was still pounding out an unsteady rhythm, but Jace forced himself to slow down, grab a glass or water and begin to relax. He ran a hand through his sweat dampened hair, and thought of something to calm him down.

War. Hatred. Deception. Sneaking. Battles. Fighting.

Jace’s heart began to slow to a manageable pace. Others had been scared off by Jace’s love of conflict, but he had been born and lived around fighting all his life, and it made him comfortable.

Jace’s head whirled around as Maryse came striding into the kitchen, cell-phone in hand.

“Yes- yes, I’ll- I’ll tell him right away. No he won’t. Because I know he won’t! I apologise inquisitor, yes, we’ll be there as soon as we can. No, I doubt Magnus will portal us, but it’s worth a shot. Okay thanks, goodbye.” Maryse turned her thin, sharp face to his. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun, and her dress was conservative and plain as usual.

“Pack your things,” She said sternly, implying that Jace had no choice in the matter, “We’re going to Idris.”

Idris.

“What? Why?” Jace began, instantly feeling his heart stir into action like a stuttering car engine.

“The Inquisitor has requested our presence,” Maryse confirmed, turning away and heading out the door.

“What for?” Jace fumed, furious he wasn’t getting any answers.

Maryse turned to him with sad eyes, then opened her mouth.

“For Clarissa’s trial.”