City of Shattered Glass

Part 14: The Angel

Jace stared, horrified, at the knife that lay a few feet from Valentine. He'd missed?—No, Valentine had wacked it out of the air. Somehow, Valentine had wacked Jace's knife out of the air. And now, he'd never been more terrified in his life. Valentine held the point of the sword just over Clary's heart, pricking her skin. A small trickle of blood disappeared under her shirt. Valentine said something but Jace didn't hear it, his focus was entirely on Clary as she stared back at him. She seemed to know what was about to happen and was telling him something. Her eyes conveyed to him so many things, but they also told him that all the time in the world would never be enough.

Jace lunged at Valentine.

But he was too late. Just before he tackled Valentine to the ground, he drove the blade into Clary's heart. Her head was thrown back in a silent scream as her body arched off the ground. Jace yelled at Valentine in anger and despair, his desperation only growing with each punch he threw. The fight seemed to stretch for eternity when Valentine grabbed Jace's wrist and threw him over his shoulder.

"Stay down," Valentine bit out at him.

But Jace moved to throw himself back at him—then he heard the gasping breaths from behind him. Clary. He scrambled over to her and gathered her in his arms. He pressed a stele to her skin, drawing an iratze on her forearm. It didn't work, but Jace hadn't been expecting it too. Nothing he did could save her.

"Clary," he said, tears rolling down his cheeks in big, fat drops, "Clary please, I can't do this without you."

She spasmed in his arms, her gasps growing more desperate. Her hands gripped his shirt so tight that her knuckles were white.

"Clary," he sobbed, saying her name over and over, hoping he might tether her to this life, "I'm begging you Clary, don't leave me. Please."

Her movement slowed, her body giving in to the blood loss and injury. That was when Jace shattered, when he realized he was losing her, and he would never get her back. Her head lulled to the side and he propped it up with his hand, "No, no, no, Clary. I love you, please stay."

But nothing he said could fix what had been done and all at once it seemed as if her eyes glazed over and she stared up at the sky, her eyes unblinking. Her fingers slipped from his shirt, the limbs cold and lifeless. Jace drew her into his chest and sobbed, rocking back and forth. Not Clary, not his Clary. Not the girl with fiery hair and blazing eyes. The girl who kissed him like he was everything, like he was good enough. The girl who made him so angry so easily. The girl who he'd come to depend on for everything in his life. The girl who'd broken down his walls so easily, so quickly and never looked back. The girl he loved. Not her.

He continued to rock back and forth as he whispered to her the words that hurt him more than anything, ave atque vale, he told her. He would see her in the next life, he had to. The only thing Jace wanted to do was lay down and die next to her, but he had to stop Valentine first. He could do this, if only for her.

Jace's head whipped around, and he stared at the altar. The runes around it had begun to glow. They were runes of summoning, runes of naming, and runes of binding. They were not unlike the runes that had kept Ithuriel imprisoned in the cellars beneath the Wayland Manor. Now very against his will, he thought of the way Clary had looked at him then, the blaze of faith in her eyes, her belief in him. She had always thought he was strong. She had shown it in everything she did, in every look and every touch. Alec had faith in him too, comforting him when he needed it. But Clary pushed him, she had only ever expected the best from him and would take nothing but his best. She had made him better.

Valentine was dipping the bloody Sword over and over in the water of the lake now, chanting low and fast. The water of the lake was rippling, as if a giant hand were stroking fingers lightly across its surface.