City of Shattered Glass

Part 9: Nightmares

Clary knew Jace tried to break her fall as well as he could, but the impact still shot screaming pain through her. She bit her tongue in order to keep from crying out, her body going limp, no longer responding to her. She eventually managed to roll off of Jace and lay on the grass, breathing heavily, knowing if she whimpered like she wanted to, Jace would begin to worry. Although, he probably already was. She coughed against her will and blood filled her throat. Gagging she turned back over onto her stomach and spit up the blood.

"Clary," Jace said urgently, "Clary, are you okay? Please, talk to me."

"I—" she tried to say, her voice betraying her, "I'm okay. I—just need—help—getting up." Her words were breathless, and she struggled to keep her eyes open.

Jace was quick to her side and scooped her up into his arms, hugging her against him.

"I can walk. I—" Clary protested.

"No, you can't, Clary. Just let me carry you." Jace looked straight ahead and began walking.

Clary didn't try and continue her protest; she just wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her head against his strong chest. She took comfort in his arms cradling her against him, trying to ignore the pain. Her eyes drooped, trying to tell her that she needed sleep, but Clary still refused to sleep. If this was a dream or a vision, she would make it last as long as she could.

However, Clary felt herself slipping, "Jace?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Mhmm?"

"Where—" she let out a slight cough, "Where are we going?"

He lowered his eyebrows, as if deciding to tell her or not, "Herondale Manor."

"Herondale Manor? Why there? Isn't that the old Inquisitor's home?" Clary's voice was hoarse. Even though she knew she should be saving her strength, she not only wanted to stay awake, but comfort Jace as well, letting him think she was okay for the time being.

"No, the Inquisitor never lived there, but her son Stephen Herondale did."

"But why are we going there?"

"That's a bit of a longer story and you shouldn't be exhausting yourself too much. I'll tell you after we get there, and you have the time to rest while I patch you up. Again."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Clary's face pressed against his shoulder. It took no longer than half an hour for a large manor house to appear in her view. Jace approached the porch and set her in a large rocking chair before walking toward the large doors.

When Clary made to try and stand, Jace held a hand up, "Don't you dare stand up."

"Jace, I can—"

"No Clary. I won't risk anything with you right now," he seemed to be searching in his pockets while talking to her, "I know you're feeling a lot worse than you're trying to show, but Clary, you forget that I know you."

"Jace."

He didn't respond, he just pulled his hand out of his pocket, producing a key. He fit the key into the lock of the door and twisted, the door opening a crack. Jace returned to where she was sitting and picked her up again. He shouldered the door open wider and walked inside. The house was filled with filled sheeted furniture and dust, but Jace walked down a hall and kicked a door open, revealing what must have been the master bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and sat beside her.

"Can you turn over onto your side?" She did, wincing as she felt the stitches stretch at the movement. Carefully, Jace pulled up the bottom of her hospital gown and exposed the skin of her back, though it was bandaged. He gently undid the bandage, "Thank the Angel," he said, clearly relieved, "your stitches held."