The Blackthorns of Los Angeles

Clary, one hour before

She shot bolt upright in Jace's arms, gasping for breath. The nightmare visions had been bad, awful, before, but this one was different.
Jace's face was about two inches from hers, frantic with worry. "Clary! Clary, thank the Angel. You just.. fainted? You went out, and you fell. It was lucky I caught your head, what is going on here?"
She shook her head, muzzy still,  with the vision that was clouding the reality of her surroundings, trying to shake the images back into the chronological order needed for her to tell them to Jace, and relaxed back into his arms. She panted for a moment.
"Jace, I, I need a minute. I'll tell you, I just need a sec."
Her eyes shut tight against the whirl of Faerie in front of them, to focus on the bright memory of the vision burned her eyes. The Accord Hall. Magnus ill. Annabel Blackthorn. Annabel Blackthorn? Yes, that was correct,  no mistaking the blue-green Blackthorn eyes. Julian,  cradling one of his children. Alec running as though his life depended upon it. The Mortal Sword,  shattered. And Robert Lightwood,  on his knees, the blood darkening the robes of his office.
And the rune, stark and shining silvery around its edges, like an iratze, but more. More powerful than any rune she had ever made, or seen before, except the one she had used to put the heavenly fire into her Morganstern heirloom of a blade.
The images lined up now, and her head less dizzy, she sat slowly up, keeping her eyes shut, and began to tell Jace the vision's tale.
He drew a sharp breath at her recounting of how the Mortal Sword was shattered, and how Annabel Blackthorn had been unable to keep her tenuous hold on sanity uder the terrible power of the blade.
She sighed, and told him of Emma, of Livia, and of Drusilla's vengeance.
And finally,  she told him of the rune, and drew it for him.
"Clary,  that looks like the parabatai rune,  but as much like an iratze as it does the parabatai rune. "
"I know. It's a parabatai only iratze. It works best when both parabatai use the stele to draw it, but alone.. it carries enough power to bring someone mortally wounded back to health."
Stunned, Jace sat back on his heels. "So together. . It would feasibly.."
She nodded, shaking a bit, deep inside herself. " It can bring back those newly dead."
Jace blew out a breath, as shaky as Clary felt. "Are you sure it's angelic?"
"Yes. You know that, just by looking at it."
He nodded, and Clary knew he had just been wanting the assumption made solid by confirmation.
"Did you get any sense of what time it is when Drusilla Blackthorn turns the Cohort to hamburger? "
"An hour from now, normal time."
His head jerked up. "Make a Portal. We need to get there, now. I'll grab our stuff." He bolted to his feet, dragging Clary ignominiously along with him. He snatched her stele from the ground where she had let it fall after showing him the new rune.
She began, and he shot around their campsite, collecting everything in less than the minute it had taken her to form the Portal.
They stepped through into madness.
Clary saw Alec sprinting, and shouted his name. "Jace! Robert! Make it!"
He shot toward his adoptive father, making it to his body just as Alec lifted his father's head into his lap. He tore the shirt and the robes free of Robert, and grabbed the stele he had given Emma Carstairs all those years ago. "Alec! Give me your hand. Now!"
Clary, peeling off toward the circle of shining steel and adamas surrounding Julian Blackthorn and his dying sister, grabbing a startled and gaping Emma Carstairs as she flew through the circle.