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

Chapter 31: By An Angel's Grace

*Warning* depressing material and LOTS OF FEELS.

The sentences that are in the Italic font which comes later in the book are Clary's thoughts. Enjoy.

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Chapter 31: By An Angel's Grace

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Clary lay gasping on the cool marble ground of the pavilion, lying on her side. Her cheek was pressed firmly against the ground as she tried to calm the pounding in her head.

Everywhere hurt and she'd wager that every inch of her was covered in bruises and cuts. What Clary knew that was only ten minutes of pure torture and agony had felt like hours.

Her throat was hoarse and dry from all her screaming. She wanted to laugh at her earlier resolve of no screaming. She stared at her bloody hand, a bad and rough drawing of a flame cut into her palm. She winced at the memory of pain and she was afraid to move so much as an inch from her position now, knowing that pain would be waiting for her every time she moved.

After mauling her arm, Haverley had moved to her stomach, lightly bouncing the dagger across her skin, making small cuts. She had then dug the dagger into her side, not deep enough to puncture any vital organs but enough to elicit screams and sobs from Clary. She had then moved to Clary's back, creating two deep gashes on her shoulderblades, claiming that an angel like her needed exit points on her back for her angel wings.

When she had said that, Clary's suspicions of Haverley being a total loon was frighteningly real. Haverley then had cut and injured every untouched inch of skin on Clary

Clary had waited and hoped for he stealing darkness of death that would sneak up on her and pull her beneath it's dark waters but it never came. All she wanted to do was die.

Let me die, let me die, let me die, please, let me die.

Haverley now circled her, her bloody dagger still in her grip.

"I almost pity you." Haverley said, crouching in front of her face. She reached a hand out and nudged Clary's cheek. Pain flared from her mouth and cheeks and lips and her whole body jerked from the sudden pain .

"Are you ready for another round or should I give you a few more minutes?" Haverley said, jutting her bottom lip out mockingly. Clary glared into her eyes.

"Like I care." Haverley hissed and kicked Clary so she lying on her back again. Clary gasped as her sore back came in contact with the floor. Her shoulderblades screamed in protest and Clary wanted to scream in agony.

She was lying in a pool of her own blood; she could feel the warm stickiness of it beneath her fingertips

"Do you really need all your fingers?" Haverley said, seizing Clary's sore left hand tightly. She whimpered as Haverley's nails dug into the cuts that ravaged her hand which was a bright irritated bright, the cuts on her hands as numerous as sand on a beach. "I guess not."

Clary screamed as Haverley dragged her dagger across Clary's index finger, cutting into the skin like it was merely tissue paper.

"Keep on screaming. Go ahead." Haverley said, laughing. "I am going to-"

Haverley was interrupted by a rushed, frantic voice, screaming in a language Clary didn't know. A man with tattooes for skin was speaking in a frantic manner to Haverley, his mouth moving and shaping words at light speed. She caught some English words, mixed in the whirlwind of words.

"Shadowhunters...in...found...Clarissa...suzerain...finish...yes...here...immediately..." the man gushed, only the several words audible.

In reply, Haverley screamed loudly in frustration, flinging her dagger across the room like a child throwing a tantrum. She barked back something in the unknown language as she ran her hands through her red hair. The man bowed before turning and running back into one of the tunnels he came from.