CLACE(a new life)

Wound

Still confused of which direction, both Clary, and Jace wandered, full of alert, through the household.

"Jace, I think we should go this way." Clary said. We started down the path, and that's when we heard the small pitter patter of feet, followed by a loud bang of a falling object, and then a high pitched scream followed by the scuffling of feet.

Jace immediately took ahold of Clary's hand, and led her towards the sound, in the opposite direction.

Once upon realizing their destination, they stood in a kitchen. A very large one at that. With white marble floors, as well as walls. Oak cabinets, and windows all around surrounding the kitchen in the radiant glow of morning.

Around them, were about a dozen cooking knives. Of which Jace guessed had probably been placed on a high shelf, and someone had tried to reach, and failed. That would explain the high pitched screech, but where was the owner? Who, was in the manor? That's when Clary noticed it.

"Jace. The blood." Jace then looked down, to find one of the dozen knives bloodied, and blood droplets leading as if a trail of bread crumbs, to the small mop closet threshold to their right.

Clary then put her finger to her lips, and ushered Jace to stay behind. He submissively did so, although not happy about the idea.

She quietly made her way towards the closet, and connected her hand with the icy metal door knob. She quickly turned the knob, and opened the door, only to find a girl.

A young girl, who only looked around Clary and Jace's age. Young, and vibrant. This girl had but one flaw, and that was the large amount of blood flowing down the frontside of her shoulder, dangerously close to her collar-bone, where crimson stained her now extremely dampen clothes.

"Jace." Clary whispered, although he sensed her stillness, and then followed in pursuit. Finally getting to see the young girl, his eyes darted to her injured chest, and went to remove her from the closet.

She seemed groggy, as if only seconds would pass before she would black out. She weakly put a hand to his chest to stop him, and only said a few words, before she was out like a light, and her head dropped.

"A stele."

He carefully lifted her until she leaned against the island in the middle if the kitchen on the floor.

"Clary. Use your stele. She's using too much blood." He said calmly, but urgently.

Clary then scuttled over to the opposite side of the kitchen where the two figures lie, and quickly pulled the girls sleeve to the side, where she drew an iratze, right by the now, very deep wound.