The Mortal Instruments: City of Past Ghosts (Book 1)

Chapter 28: With A Passion

Chapter 28: With A Passion

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Clary dreamed.

Dreamed of a boy with white hair and black eyes—eyes as soulless and remorseless as the devil's. All planes and angles in his features. Blood dripped from his hands and pooled around his bare feet, crimson against the pale skin. There was a cold beauty to him, in the way he stood and how he looked and a certain dangerous aura that made Clary want to shy away—run and cower and close her eyes. He wore a plain white shirt which could have been innocent enough if not for the shredded and burnt patches in his short and the light smears of blood.

She also dreamed of a boy blessed with a halo of gold hair and eyes burning fiery gold, hard and arrogant. His mouth was set in a hard, stubborn grit, his eyelids slightly hooded. He looked like the exact image of a fallen angel, too beautiful to comprehend, thrown down from Heaven in his arrogance and pride. This boy was far too beautiful to resist. Everything about him was heart shattering. His skin wasn't unmarked; runes curled around his arms and light cuts decorated his bare arms. There even was beauty to his scars and cuts. He wore a plain black shirt with several places scorched and smoking slightly.

Both of them looked like they had just crawled out from the pits of hell.

Clary watched the both of stand apart from each other, backs facing each other, both staring at Clary with blank eyes. She watched them both and her heart ached with sadness, like it was tearing itself apart.

She had dreamed of them both before but there was something different to this dream. It was like how someone could sense the change in the weather.

Two names bubbled to and tumbled from her lips; one foreign to her and the other brought a wealth of pain and ache to it.

"Jonathan. Jace, " Clary whispered. The one named Jonathan, the fair headed boy's eyes filled with recognition at his name. He blinked as if in a daze and slowly, Clary watched as his eyes turned a vibrant green—the same green orbs that she had. His were filled with astonishment, sadness, love and confusion. They focused on her kneeling state, growing wide.

"Clary," he whispered, astonished. "Clarissa is that you?" he asked a little louder, stepping forward.

The cold beauty had melted away, his eyes filling up with emotion and soul. He slowly approached Clary and knelt before her. His hand was slowly brought up and he caressed her cheek gently, the look of pure astonishment still on his features. Jace watched them from where he stood, sadness replacing the lifelessness in his eyes.

The fear and repulsion he felt towards him cracked. "Jonathan," Clary said again, tasting the unfamiliar name on her lips. A sense of horror and overwhelming sadness threatened to bury and suffocate Clary. A tear rolled down her cheek and Jonathan hastily rubbed it away with his thumb, his forehead creasing with concern.

"Hey," Jonathan hushed. "Don't cry."

Clary felt baffled by her actions and emotions. She was feeling things that were ridiculous for her to feel towards an utter, complete stranger but she couldn't help the sadness and grief and pain and resentment she was feeling. She looked at him and she sobbed—sounding so, so broken that the sound was painful to her own ears.

What was she doing?

Warm, reassuring arms went around her, holding her closer to this boy. She wanted to push him away and run and hide but instead she clutched him close like this was the last time she was ever going to see him. The thought, for some reason, was despicable and unmentionable to Clary. She felt warm drops of liquid falling onto her shoulder and she pulled back, looking at her shoulder in surprise.