"This is all your fault."
Corey's words were a whisper; it was not louder than a pin fallen in a room of utter chaos. But there was a strength in his voice. A venom. A hatred.
"We needed you— I needed my sister."
"This isn't her fault."—though Corey's vision was blurred, he could hear without fault e, what he had heard, was Jace Wayland's weak, laughable attempt, to defend her. Perhaps, in different circumstances, he would have laughed. But, now, Corey couldn't laugh. He couldn't smile. He couldn't cry. He could only tremble in rage—"This isn't anyone's fault."—and scream.
"Don't defend her!"
Loud. Desperate.
"Simon is dead because of her!"
Demanding to be heard.
"All of this is you and your Mother's fault!"
"Corey—"
Alec.
"Calm down."
Warm. Calming.
"This isn't going to help Simon."
And unheard.
"Nothing is going to help Simon!" Corey whirled to face Alec, his neck nearly snapping at the sudden, rash movement. "Because he's gone! Dead!" There was no tremble in his voice when he spoke—when he screamed. But there was a tremble in his eyes, a stain of tears on his cheeks.
There was loss in his eyes.
Alec didn't know what to do. Alec didn't know what he could do to ease the tear in his heart, but he wanted to do something—he needed to do something. With hesitance, Alec stepped forward but, as his hand slowly raised in a yearning to touch Corey, the ladder had fallen to his knees.
And screamed.
Loud. Piercing. Shrill.
And, for a moment, Alec couldn't make out a word that ripped Corey's throat raw. He couldn't understand. Until, suddenly, he heard it.
"Give him back. Take me."
Alec couldn't react—no one could. They cold only watch with too many emotions to define just one as the one who wore a glass mask finally shattered.
Corey had been nothing but brave and strong since the day they met. To the point, where Alec almost believed, Corey was incapable of being weak. Almost. But, today, Corey proved he was just as weak as they all were. Just as weak as Alec was.
"I can bring him back to you."
The words snatched Alec by the ankles and tugged him away from his thoughts. The words brought Alec back to where Corey had shattered and the only thing that seemed to hold him together were the hands of a downworlder on his cheeks. The thumbs of a vampire cleaning the human of his tears.
The hands of Raphael.
"You only have to ask, amor."
Alec recognized the foreign tongue with a heart that ached.
Love.
"We— We could have Simon back?" Clary, who had been nothing but silent since Corey had spoken asked. Soft and timid. "Alive and breathing?"
"No."
All eyes turned to Alec.
"He won't be alive," continued Alec, his stare flickered to the shadowhunter and the vampire. He watched Corey with a silent plead for the former t turn away from the black, lifeless eyes that consumed his emerald eyes. He begged Corey to throw away the hands that held him oh so delicately, and then to him.
But, Corey was blind the plead.
"He won't be alive"—continued Isabelle, her stare scattering from one to another, unsure of where she could look—"or breathing."
"He'll be a vampire."
Corey pulled away from Raphael.
He wiped away his own tears.
And he stood.
Because he knew what Clary would choose.
He knew just what she would say.
"No."
Clary stared at Corey, astonished.
"What?" she demanded, and she stepped forward. Alec mirrored her step. "We could have Simon back—"
"No— No, not like this. He wouldn't want this."
"Simon isn't here to tell us what he'd want!"
Why does Simon love you? You don't deserve him. You never did.
We never did.
• • •
"Core."
Corey jerked at the sound of his name.
Where am I?
Corey's eyes searched the room. This wasn't the basement. This was a bedroom. Alec's bedroom.
"Tell me it was a dream." Corey whispered upon a breathe that wavered.
"What?" Alec—who had seated himself on a chair, pulled to the bedside where Corey rested—asked, his hand gently holding onto the others.
Corey clinged to the warmth.
"Tell me it was a dream—" he begged. "Tell me Simon isn't— tell me he isn't—"
"It wasn't a dream. Simon's dead, Corey." Alec explained upon a stammering tongue.
How did I get here?
"You— you fainted," Alec explained as though hearing the muted question. "Clary asked me to bring you up here to rest—"
"Where is she?"
"Wh— What?"
"Where's Clary?"