City of Heavenly Fire

The Fallen Hero

Jace ran up the quiet walkway of Clary's house, panic and dread racing through his veins. Simon followed in his wake, badgering him with questions on what had happened when he'd gone out with Clary.

Jace hadn't really been given much time to study the breeds of those creatures, but he knew that he wasn't familiar with them. What had they done to her?

Jace wasn't even going to bother on knocking, his hands reaching for the door's handle when a scream made both of them stop dead, blood turning ice-cold. Colder than even Simon's.

It had been pure torment to see Clary's bleeding body ealier that evening, seeing how helpless and vulnerable she'd been, but it was so much worse to actually feel her anguish and hear her screams of pain.

Instantly, Jace hd flung open the door and was racing upstairs, following the noise into Jocelyn's room. His eyes found Clary, curled in on herself, hands clutching the blankets strewn around her.

Everything seemed to fall away as Jace stared at her ghostly-pale complexion, lips red with blood. Sweat beaded on her neck and Jocelyn quickly swiped at it with a cool wash cloth, murmuring soft things into her ear. Then Clary's mother eyes met his and he could have sworn that he saw accusation flicker in her eyes.

Clary suddenly tossed, mumbling incoherent words to herself, her eyebrows scrunching as her hands tightened on the sheets. Jace caught his own name in the garble of her words.

He felt mind-numbingly helpless. What could he do? This was all his fault. Guilt battered him in bone-crushing waves along with the excruciating pain of having to watch Clary fling this way and that, calling out to him.

Immediately, not even caring about Jocelyn's invisible borderline, he stepped forward, dropping to the side of her bed and grasping her hand, slick and clammy with sweat.

"No," she whispered, eyes still closed but seeing something else beyond the backsof her lids. "Jace-Jace I can't."

Jace squeezed her hand harder, smoothing his other cool hand over the burning of her forehead. "Shh, Clary," he soothed, trying to squelch the fear and panic out of his voice. "I'm here."

"Don't-don't make me-I won't!" she yelled all of a sudden, falling into an abrupt coughing fit.

Jace felt his eyesight blur in horror, Clary hacking until it subsided.

"NO! Jace, you-come back!" she continued to yell, her voice raspy.

Jace felt as if everything was falling apart at the seams. He didn't acknowledge Luke with his hands holding Jocelyn together; didn't register Simon by the opposite side of the bed, looking anywhere but at Clary as if the image hurt too much. But Jace couldn't not look. This girl was his world. And now, he was watching as whatever thoughts about her tormented her with nightmare upon nightmare, and he could do nothing to stop it.

He could only brush away the tears that started to fall down Clary's cheeks and beg to everything good in the world that her pain would just end.

"He'll-come back," she gasped then. He-will."

And somehow, Jace knew. Something clicked into place at the recollection of Clary's story about what had happened and he knew that behind her lids, she was back on that battlefield with a sword in hand, pointed directly at his chest.

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Clary felt as if she were on fire. She cried out as they licked across her neck, scorching it over and over. She waited for the pain to dull, waited for someone to pour water over the fire . . . waited to die . . .

but no relief came. She was trapped; caged in some part of her mind as she fought against the shadows and images that swam before her. One wizzed by and she caught sight of Jace, calling out to him from the darkness that engulfed her.

Then he materialized before her, the smile she loved so much plastered to his face. She threw her arms around him, clutching him closer, pulling his lips down to meet hers, to take her away from the black . . .

"Clary, it's time," Jace said, stepping away from her. Suddenly, Clary's arms seemed to strain with extra wait and her hand fell, grasped firmly aroun the hilt of the blade. "You have to do it, Clary."

It took her a moment to comprehend his words but once she had, she looked at him in horror. "Jace-Jace, I can't-" she stuttered, shifting gazes from the blade to him.

"Yes you can, Clarissa. You have to."

She was shaking her head fiercly, backing away. Except no matter how much her feet moved, she made no progress. "Don't-don't make me!" she pleaded, "I won't!"

Then in a sudden flash, the weapon had disappeared from Clary's hands and for a second, she felt relief.

Only to find Jace on the ground, his chest bleeding alarmingly fast; eyes closed.

Immediately, she dropped beside him, placing his head in her lap, refusing to believe what she was seeing. "NO!" she screamed at him. "Jace, you-come back!" she begged, sobbing into him. Voices sounded behind her in soft mumurs, but she couldn't catch any words, just their feelings of doubt.

"He'll-come back," she told them, rocking him lightly, her forehead pressed against his. "He-will."

But as Clary waited, nothing happened. Then the image dissolved and she was again left alone with the dark, nothing but its endlessness except for the flashes of Jace's lifeless form still fresh in her mind.