Stronger Than Heaven

Chapter 3

The moon was a stark contrast against the night sky, its white light reflecting off of the dark water that shimmered like glass particles. The air was calm, not even a slight wind to cut through the eerie silence. The only sound that could be heard was the bated breath of the young man writhing on the cold ground and the young woman hovering over him, her breath coming up in short, sobbing panic.

"I'm so sorry, Clary," he whispered as a single tear rolled down his temple. "I love you."

Her piercing scream filled the night air and echoed against the still water.

"NO!" Clary bolted upright, face damp with tears, her tank top drenched with sweat, and her hair knotted against her neck. She felt a tightness in her chest and she clutched the blanket in front of her, trying desperately to catch her breath.

This was the third time this week that she'd had that dream. Ever since the beautiful boy with the strange eyes appeared at her art show. Shaking, she reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and took a sip. Her eyes glanced nervously around her apartment - the corner lamp illuminating the space. Ever since that fateful night, a string of nightmares followed and she hadn't been able to sleep in the dark. Her eyes moved to the clock beside her paint easel. 4:52AM. She had to be up in a couple of hours to teach an art class. She sighed. She already knew it was useless to try to go back to sleep.

After splashing her face with cold water and changing into one of her old T-shirts she used just to paint in, Clary took a seat in front of her easel and a sense of calm immediately washed over her when picked up her paint brush.

-

He stood across the street, camouflaged by the shadows of the trees. He watched her curiously, his head tilted to one side. Her window curtain was wide open, revealing a beautiful red-headed girl sitting in front of her easel with headphones on and a look of deep concentration as she painted away. How long had she been awake? He knew her schedule - she was up by 7:00 to be on time to teach an 8:30 class at the Brooklyn Academy of Art. He double checked his watch. It was only 6:15.

Since that fateful night at the cafe, he'd vowed to himself to leave her alone. And he did. He lasted a good three days.... Maybe one of the longest he'd gone without checking up on her. For a year, he'd watched her, protected her, made sure she was safe. What else could he do for the love of his life?

He jumped at the shrill sound of his cell phone ringing. Fishing for it in his jeans pocket, he glanced at the name. Isabelle. "Hey," he muttered quietly.

"Jace!" she explained, slightly out of breath. His back straightened.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"There's been an attack near the Rockefeller Centre. It's just Simon and I here," she grunted and he could hear the telltale sign of her whip against flesh. "I'm doing my best to fight them off, but there's too many-"

"I'm on my way." He hung up and took one last glance at Clary, still peacefully painting away at her easel. "I'll be right back," he whispered longingly as he activated his speed rune with his stele.

He stepped out from the shadows of the trees and sped off just when the red-headed girl in the window glanced at his direction, only to see the shuffling of leaves and branches.

-

Clary glanced at her watch. It was well past midnight. She had been at the Art Gallery since dinner, typing away at the computer and reconciling orders that had come through over the weekends for some big art pieces. Everyone else was long gone, but she decided to stay to finish some work... and avoid home, knowing that the nightmares would come the minute she closed her eyes.

She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples, hoping for some solace from the dull headache that had followed her all day. For a moment, she was lost in thought - the boy with the beautiful eyes crossed her mind for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. Her heart ached. She needed to find a way to get to him.

In the silence, she heard a clutter from across the room. Her eyes shot up to the corner where a small vase had tipped over. Frowning, she got up from her seat and slowly made her way towards the other side of the art gallery. She watched as the vase rolled off of the table and fell to the ground with a crash.

It was instant. The hair on her neck stood up and her entire body went into alert. It wasn't anything she'd felt before. It was past human awareness - it was an electrifying buzz that shot through her veins, giving her hyper-sensitivity and an adrenaline that made the blood rush through her head. She could hear her heart beating steadily against her chest.

She heard it from from behind her and instinctively, she turned with a roundhouse kick. Her boot connected with flesh. Hard, rubbery, demonic flesh of a creature that hovered above her. A tentacle appeared from behind it and connected with her shoulder, causing her to scream in pain and fall to the ground. Her vision blurred instantly and she clutched her now bleeding shoulder, black icor oozing from the wound. The creature snarled and went in for another attack, but suddenly retracted with a screeching sound that echoed against her ears.

"Clary!" she faintly heard a voice call out.

"Jace," she whispered, and it took all of her not to pass out.

"Izzy, kill that son of a bitch," he snarled as he ran over to Clary, falling to his knees and helping her up. "Clary! Oh God... we need to get you to the hospital."

"Jace," she repeated, feeling the poison seep through her veins. She felt weak. She saw something peeking out from his pocket, a piece of metal and crystal glinting against dark leather. She reached for it and it felt odd - heavy and... vibrating? Without thinking, she placed it against the flesh of her wrist and started to draw.

"Clary, no! It could kill you!" Jace reached for the stele, but he was too late. She had drawn a full healing rune that lit up red and yellow. She gasped and fell to the floor as it turned black, a permanent tattoo against her pale skin. He crouched down, his eyes searching hers and for a moment, they stared at each other in shock and awe. Finally, he spoke. "How do you feel?"

She swallowed and glanced at her shoulder, the wound now closing up and fully healing. "A.. alive," she whispered and his eyebrows furrowed in that same bewildered and amazed look from the cafe.

"By the angel..."

They both looked up to see Isabelle standing over them, her whip in her hand and a shocked look on her face. "Clary?"