"Reach into the pocket of your jacket," the Inquisitor, with her cruel voice said. "Take out the object you've been carrying with you since you last left the Institute."
The Inquisitor's gaze was filled with controlled anger but her face was calm as if she was biding time to tell something. She was in her gray cloak, her colorless hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her eyes were gray chips and the look she was giving Jace made his confidence slip away. He got the reason why she was made the Inquisitor; to handle maniacs like his own father, Valentine.
Jace said nothing, keeping his face unreadable. He knew that he couldn't work his way out of this. He did leave the house last night, without informing Magnus or even Allison to meet his father. He borrowed a motorcycle from the head of the city's vampire clan and he flew it to the boat, where Valentine was. Somehow the Inquisitor—of all people—figured it out.
Slowly, Jace did as she asked. As he drew his hand out of his pocket, a shimmering blue-gray object was on his hand. The piece of the Portal mirror.
"Give it to me." The Inquisitor snatched it out of his hand. He winced as a sharp pain erupted on his inner palm; the edge of the glass had cut him, and blood welled up. Maryse made a soft noise but didn't move. "I knew you'd return to the Institute for this," said the Inquisitor, positively gloating now. "I knew your sentimentality wouldn't allow you to leave it behind."
"What is it?" Robert sounded bewildered.
"A bit of a Portal in mirror form," said the Inquisitor. "When the Portal was destroyed, the image of its last destination was preserved." She turned the bit of glass over in her long, spidery fingers. "In this case, the Wayland country house."
Jace's eyes followed the movement of the mirror. He wondered if he'd ever see the rain in Idris again.
With a sudden, violent motion at odds with her calm tone, the Inquisitor dashed the piece of mirror to the ground. It shattered instantly into powdery shards. Jace sucked in his breath.
The Inquisitor drew on a pair of gray gloves and knelt among the bits of mirror, sifting them through her fingers until she found what she was looking for - a single sheet of thin paper. She stood, holding it up for everyone in the room to see the thick rune written on it in black ink. "I marked this paper with a tracking rune and slipped it between the bit of mirror and its backing. Then I replaced it in the boy's room. Don't feel bad for not noticing it," she said to Jace. "Older heads and wiser than yours have been fooled by the Clave."
Jace felt his anger simmer. "You've been spying on me," He said. "Is that what the Clave does, invade the privacy of its fellow Shadowhunters to—"
"Be careful what you say to me. You are not the only one who's broken the Law." The Inquisitor's chilly gaze slid around the room. "In releasing you from the Silent City, in freeing you from the warlock's control, your friends have done the same."
"Jace isn't our friend," said Isabelle. "He's our brother."
"I'd be careful what you say, Isabelle Lightwood," said the Inquisitor. "You could be considered complicit and get your Marks stripped."
"Complicit?" To everyone's surprise, it was Robert who had spoken.
"Yes," the Inquisitor said.
"Including me," Allison spoke at last, her sharp blue eyes not meeting his. "I was the one to monitor his movements to find out if he was having any contact with his father. I failed."
"You haven't," the Inquisitor said.
Robert let out a dark laugh. "Of course, she's not. She's your granddaughter after all—"
The Inquisitor turned her icicle gaze on Robert. "I was the one who sent Allison with Jonathan to see if he was in league with his father. Yes, she has failed to make sure the boy does not run off to his father. But he came back because she won his trust, so now I can drill the answers out of his mind." She seemed livid now and prowled closer to Robert. "I will not let Jonathan corrupt my granddaughter's mind as Valentine did to my son. I will not lose her as I lost—" She caught herself with a sort of gasp as if gaining control of herself by main force.
Allison, who was a sickly shade of gray, sucked in a breath. She took a step back as if the intensity of the words of the Inquisitor hit her like a tidal wave.
"So this is about Stephen and Allison after all," said Luke—so he'd guessed this before—with a sort of pity in his voice. "Imogen—"
The Inquisitor took in a deep breath to steady her emotions. "First and foremost, this is about the Law."
The look of disappointment on Maryse's face and disbelief in Clary's was because of him. He knew how much she wanted to prove her grandmother, to win her appraisal. And now...he had lied to her when she trusted him and Allison had to face the consequence. However, the next words from Imogen were definitely not expected.
"And Jace," Maryse said, her thin fingers twisted as her hands worked at each other. "What's going to happen to him?"
"He will return to Idris with me tomorrow," said the Inquisitor. "You've forfeited your right to know any more than that."
"How can you take him back to that place?" Clary, her emerald eyes which always had him entranced shone with anger, demanded. "When will he come back?"
"Clary, don't," Jace said in a plea. He had already disappointed everyone he loved and he knew deep in his heart that he didn't deserve to be fought for.
Of course, Clary battled on. "Jace isn't the problem here! Valentine is the problem!"
Something in Jace snapped. "Leave it alone, Clary! For your own good, leave it alone!"
Clary flinched away from him.
And something else destroyed in him.
Before she could say anything else, Allison spoke, her voice. "If Jace went to his father, knowing the kind of father Valentine was," Her eyes traveled from Clary, Alec, Isabelle, Maryse, Robert, and even Luke. "It was because of you all, the ones who are considered his family, failed him. Not because he failed you."
Jace let the truth of the words sink in. His family—the ones who turned their back on him—looked horrified as the truth laid back.
Give it to Allison, to deliver a death blow.
But...she seemed to be holding back something. Something seemed controlled in her.
"Save your sophistry, Allison," said the Inquisitor, yet her gaze seemed to have softened upon turning to her granddaughter. If she loved her son so much that she is willing on revenge, she must love Allison, her son's daughter twice more. And he knew the words she said before, about Jace corrupting Allison's mind. She was a good person, however infuriating she was. And he didn't want another one to be hurt by him.
"She's right." Alec was sitting on the edge of the sofa, his arms crossed and his jaw set. "Jace lied to us. There's no excuse for that."
Jace's jaw dropped.
Even Isabelle was staring at her brother in horror. "Alec, how can you say that?"
"The Law is the Law, Izzy," said Alec, not looking at his sister. "There's no way around that."
At that, Isabelle gave a little gasping cry of rage and astonishment and bolted out the front door, letting it swing open behind her. Maryse made a move as if to follow her, but Robert drew his wife back, saying something in a low voice.
Magnus got to his feet. "I do believe that's my cue to leave as well," he said. Jace noticed he was avoiding looking at Alec. "I'd say it's been nice meeting you all, but, in fact, it hasn't. It's been quite awkward, and frankly, the next time I see a single one of you will be far too soon."
Alec stared at the ground as Magnus stalked out of the living room and through the front door. This time it shut behind him with a bang.
"Two down," said Jace, with ghastly amusement. "Who's next?"
"That's enough from you," said the Inquisitor. She produced a stele from some hidden pocket and handed it to Allison. Allison stared at the stele in doubt but when she met a grandmother's eyes, something flashed between them. She straightened, the blank look fading to something more hardened and she took the stele.
"Show me your hands," She said to Jace, not looking at him in the eye.
Jace held his hands and she proceeded to trace a Mark around the circumference of his wrists. When she took her hands away, Jace's wrists were crossed, one over the other bound together with what looked like a circlet of burning flames. Sharp pain shot through his wrist.
Clary cried out. "What are you doing? You'll hurt him—"
"I'm fine, little sister," Jace tried to say calmly. "The flames won't burn me unless I try to get my hands free."
"And as for you," the Inquisitor added and turned on Clary, which made Jace tense. "You were lucky enough to be raised by Jocelyn and escape your father's taint. Nevertheless, I'll be keeping an eye on you."
Luke's grip tightened on Clary's shoulder. "Is that a threat?"
"The Clave does not make threats, Lucian Graymark. The Clave makes promises and keeps them." The Inquisitor sounded almost cheerful. She was the only one in the room who could be described that way; everyone else looked shell-shocked.
"I guess this business is finished," She straightened her cloak. "Let's move." She nodded to Allison, who produced a blade and pressed it between his shoulder blades. and whispered, "If you make a single move to flee, I'll put a blade between your shoulders." He was sure she would do it, cause she seemed to have turned into a whole new person. Not the Allison who always prodded his patience; to not let him sink further into desolate by annoying him. This...was her Investigator side; the one he hadn't seen but should soon get used to it.
When he reached the front door, he had to struggle with his bound hands. Each moment set his wrist on literal fire. He turned to look at Alison but her face was a mask and the blade in his back dug deeper. Finally, he opened it.
~~~~~
Allison had to use all her self-control to stop the words threatening to come out of her mouth. Anger, rage, frustration, disappointment, pain; all threatened to snap out of their leash. She knew her body was trembling, the blade in her hand shook. But she had willed herself to not snap in Luke's house. Now, back at the New York Institute, the restrain tested her greatly.
They were heading upstairs, possibly to the weapons room. Imogen led the path up while Allison followed with Jace in front of her. His head was bowed as he watched his reflection on long mirrors that ran across the wall. His eyes were surrounded by black shadows, his shirt smeared with dried blood and filthy mud from the East River. His face looked hollow and drawn.
Part of Allison felt pity. He would soon be facing a trial back at Idris where he would definitely be deemed guilty, Imogen would make sure of it. He would be stripped of his Marks, which would destroy any shadowhunter.
Another part of her felt pleasure. Jace deserves it. He could've been plotting beside Valentine and it was the right decision to stop him. Dear Lord, she couldn't believe she was lethargic because of Jace's troubled state. A stupid, stupid thing. She shouldn't have let her emotions out now and almost let a prisoner - even if he was a seventeen-year-old - escape.
"Admiring yourself?" The Inquisitor asked Jace. "You won't look so pretty when the Clave gets through with you. "
"You do seem obsessed with my looks." Jace turned away from the mirror. "Could it be that all this is because you're attracted to me?"
"Don't be revolting. " The Inquisitor had taken four long strips of metal from the gray pouch that hung at her waist. Angel blades. "You could be my son."
"He would even flirt with a doorknob," Allison said. "Ignore him."
Jace turned to glare at her but she pushed him forward into the weapons room. But he looked at Imogen. "Stephen. That's what he's called, right?"
The Inquisitor whirled on him. The blades she gripped were vibrating with her rage. "Don't you ever say his name!"
For a moment, Allison wondered if she might really kill him. Jace—thankfully—said nothing as she got herself under control. Without looking at him, she pointed with one of the blades. "Stand there in the center of the room, please."
Jace obeyed.
The first blade, Jophiel, was driven into the polished wooden floorboards, just south of Jace. He seemed to wait for something.
"Boom?" he said eventually. "Was something supposed to happen there?"
"Shut up." The Inquisitor's tone was final. "And stay where you are."
Jace stayed, watching with growing curiosity as she moved to his other side, named a second blade Harahel, and proceeded to drive it east into the floorboards as well.
Then the third blade Sandalphon, driven near north. The last blade, Taharial, west. And Allison clearly knew what Imogen was doing. She was constructing the Malachi Configuration.
The Inquisitor straightened, looking pleased with herself. "There. "
"There what?" Jace demanded, but she held a hand up.
"Not quite yet, Jonathan. There's one more thing..." She moved but stopped short and looked at Allison. "Are you well, Allison?"
Allison nodded, biting her lower lip which would surely bleed soon. Her grandmother didn't seem to be satisfied with the answer. With a cautious look towards Jace, who was staring at the blades, she walked towards Allison.
"I know a lie from you when I see it," Her gray eyes flickered. "What's troubling you?"
"Why do you care?" Her mouth opened on its own accord, the words came out as a snarl.
Imogen was, indeed, taken aback. "Of course, I care."
The restraint in her wavered. "Why? Because I'm the last of your god-forsaken bloodline?" What was happening to her?
"Because you are my granddaughter." Her voice seemed...to have an emotion. Her cold and unfazed voice seemed to dissolve, a sort of color added to it. A very rare tone from Imogen.
And that sound tore her leash into two.
She prowled closer to Imogen. "Aren't you ashamed to call me that? I'm your son's bastard, aren't I?
Imogen paled. "Who told you that?"
A dark chuckle left her mouth. "Everyone. Everyone would whisper in my back. Even I've had a doubt whether I am his daughter in the first place. Besides, you just need me to carry on the Herondale line."
Her grandmother stilled as a statue, looking at her in horror.
"Why did you say you didn't want my mind to be corrupted? Stephen was corrupted by Valentine. And it wouldn't cause any difference to you if I'm being brainwashed by his son." Allison stared into Imogen's eyes. "Wouldn't you gladly exchange my life for Stephen's?"
Imogen—for the first time in Allison's life—flinched.
Everything trapped inside her chest seemed to release itself. "Of course you would. You were the one who sent a thirteen-year-old to Investigators training—a course where even a grown man could break—to make her the best. Yet, I am the disappointment."
"Allison..." Imogen muttered in disbelief.
Allison was vaguely aware of Jace standing a few feet away, staring in horror. Oh, he never would've expected this from her. Fuck it, she didn't care.
Because she felt undaunted.
"What more should I do?" Allison's voice sounded so cruel, but something swelled in her chest. "What more should I do to prove I'm capable of your pride? I've tried, and tried, but there's always something else."
Imogen seemed wounded, her eyes brimming with...tears? No, it couldn't be. Imogen would never shed a tear for Allison. Anger simmered at that thought. She opened her mouth to let out all the other things she wanted to say to Imogen. She felt bold and unabashed.
But her arm was pulled back suddenly, and a hand dug into the pocket of her jeans. Allison was about to punch the lights out of Jace when he pulled out a stele and slashed it on her hand. Allison gasped and stepped back.
Imogen let out a sound and stepped forward to Jace. But he threw the stele aside, hissing loudly in pain. Blood dripped from his wrists. She first stopped near Allison and grabbed her elbow to look at what he'd done. He'd slashed a rune, which had faded now.
He slashed the Fearless rune.
"Now we know it works," Jace said biting his teeth. His wrists must be on fire now. He had ignored it to save Allison's dignity.
What has she done?
Imogen stared at the Mark, clearly noting it was an unusual one before it faded away. She looked up at Allison's face then. And the misery on her grandmother's face made her eyes sting with tears.
She pulled back, in horror.
Imogen muttered her name again, her voice constricted.
It was because of the Fearless rune. It gave her the courage, to tell the truth, buried in her heart. The ones which she would have hidden at all costs.
Allison inched towards the door. "Forget I said all that. It was a mistake."
Imogen held out a hand, reaching out to her. And Allison wanted nothing more than to fall into her grandmother's arms and hug her tightly. But the words she said...
She could only bolt out of the room.
Why was she stupid enough to let Clary—a stranger—test a new rune on her? Why couldn't she have known it was the reason to have made her restraint waver? Why couldn't she be smart and strong enough to best the emotions and control her tongue?
"We heard yelling," A voice said at the bottom of the stairs.
Alec was standing with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. And George...George was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed before his chest in a casual manner. But he stood up straight at the sight of her.
"Are you alright, Ally?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing with concern.
Allison made her way downstairs and looked at him. She should say everything's fine. Perhaps she was too tired to convince herself first. Slowly, she leaned into his chest, her arms going around him.
George first tensed. He very well knew she wouldn't give in this easily. But he embraced her tightly and held her up. He patted her back softly. "What happened?"
"I destroyed everything between me and Imogen," She said, her voice shaking.
George didn't say anything. Only held her tighter.
She heard Alec whisper to George about catching up with him later.
"It's okay to let a few tears out, Ally," George whispered. "It will ease the pain."
"It doesn't matter now,"
Word count - 3121