The Mortal Instruments - Complete Collection (330 page)

He felt her exhale. “Say it,” she said. “Say it sober.”

“I love you,” he said. “I don’t want you to say it back unless you mean it, but I love you.”

She leaned back over him, and pressed the pads of her fingertips against his. “I mean it.”

He raised himself up on his elbows just as she leaned down, and their lips met. They kissed, long and soft and sweet and gentle, and then Isabelle pulled back slightly, her breathing ragged, and Simon said, “So have we DTRed now?”

Isabelle shrugged. “I have no idea what that means.”

Simon hid the fact that he was inordinately pleased by this. “Are we officially boyfriend and girlfriend? Is there a Shadowhunter ritual? Should I change my Facebook status from ‘it’s complicated’ to ‘in a relationship’?”

Isabelle screwed up her nose adorably. “You have a book that’s also a face?”

Simon laughed, and Isabelle bent down and kissed him again. This time he reached up to draw her down, and they wrapped themselves around each other, tangled in blankets, kissing and whispering. He lost himself in the pleasure of the taste of her mouth, the curve of her hip under his hand, the warm skin of her back. He forgot that they were in a demon realm, that they were going into battle the next day, that they might never see home again: Everything faded away and was Isabelle.

“WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?” There was a sound of shattering glass, and they both sat up to see Alec glaring at them. He had dropped the empty bottle of wine he had been carrying, and there were bits of sparkly glass all over the cave floor. “WHY CAN’T YOU GO SOMEWHERE ELSE TO DO THESE HORRIBLE THINGS? MY EYES.”

“It’s a demon realm, Alec,” Isabelle said. “There’s nowhere for us
to
go.”

“And you said I should look after her—” Simon began, then realized that would not be a productive line of conversation, and shut up.

Alec flopped down on the opposite side of the fire and glared at them both. “And where have Jace and Clary gone?”

“Ah,” said Simon delicately. “Who can say . . .”

“Straight people,” Alec declared. “Why can’t they control themselves?”

“It’s a mystery,” Simon agreed, and lay back down to sleep.

Jia Penhallow sat on the desk in her office. It felt so casual, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be frowned on, the Consul sitting irreverently on the ancient desk of power—but she was alone in the room, and tired beyond all measures of tired.

In her hand she gripped a note that had come from New York: a warlock’s fire-message, powerful enough to bypass the wards around the city. She recognized the handwriting as Catarina Loss’s, but the words were not Catarina’s.

Consul Penhallow,

This is Maia Roberts, temporary leader of the New York pack. We understand you are doing what you can to bring our Luke and the other prisoners back. We appreciate that. As a sign of our good faith, I wish to pass on a message to you. Sebastian and his forces will attack Alicante tomorrow night. Please do what you can to be ready. I wish we could be there, fighting by your side, but I know that isn’t possible. Sometimes it is only possible to warn, and wait, and hope.

Remember that the Clave and the Council—Shadowhunters and Downworlders together—are the light of the world.

With hope,

Maia Roberts

With hope.
Jia folded the letter again and slipped it into her pocket. She thought of the city out there, under the night sky, the pale silver of the demon towers soon to turn to the red of war. She thought of her husband and her daughter. She thought of the boxes and boxes that had arrived from Theresa Gray only a short while ago, rising up through the earth in Angel Square, each box stamped with the spiral symbol of the Labyrinth. She felt a stirring in her heart—some fear, but also some relief, that finally the time was coming, finally the waiting would be over, finally they would have their chance. She knew that the Shadowhunters of Alicante would fight to the last: with determination, with bravery, with stubbornness, with vengeance, with glory.

With hope.

“God, my head,” Alec said
as he and Jace knelt beside a ridge of rock that crowned the top of a gray, scree-covered hill. The rock gave them cover, and past it, using Farsighted runes, they could see the half-ruined fortress, and all around it, Dark Shadowhunters clustered like ants.

It was like a warped mirror of Alicante’s Gard Hill. The structure atop it resembled the Gard they knew, but with a massive wall around it, the fortress enclosed within like a garden in a cloister.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk so much last night,” Jace said, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. All around the wall the Endarkened stood in concentric rings, a tight group in front of the gates that led inside. There were smaller groups of
them at strategic points up and down the hill. Alec could see Jace computing the numbers of the enemy, considering and discarding strategies in his head.

“Maybe you should try looking a little less smug about what
you
did last night,” said Alec.

Jace nearly fell off the ridge. “I do not look smug. Well,” he amended, “no more than usual.”

“Please,” Alec said, pulling out his stele. “I can read your face like a very open, very pornographic book. I wish I couldn’t.”

“Is this your way of telling me to shut my face?” Jace inquired.

“Remember when you mocked me for sneaking around with Magnus and asked me if I’d fallen on my neck?” Alec asked, placing the tip of the stele against his forearm and starting to draw an
iratze
. “This is payback.”

Jace snorted and grabbed the stele from Alec. “Give me that,” he said, and finished off the
iratze
for him, with his usual messy flourish. Alec felt the numbing kick as his headache started to recede. Jace turned his attention back to the hill.

“You know what’s interesting?” he said. “I’ve seen a few flying demons, but they’re staying well away from the Dark Gard—”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “Dark Gard?”

“Got a better name?” Jace shrugged. “Anyway, they’re staying away from the Dark Gard and the hill. They serve Sebastian, but they seem to be respecting his space.”

“Well, they can’t be too far away,” said Alec. “They got to the Accords Hall pretty fast when you triggered that alarm.”

“They could be
inside
the fortress,” said Jace, voicing what they were both thinking.

“I wish you’d managed to get the
skeptron
,” Alec said, in a subdued voice. “I got the feeling it could take out a lot of demons. If it still worked, after all these years.” Jace had an odd expression on his face. Alec hastened to add, “Not that anyone could have gotten it. You tried—”

“I’m not so sure,” Jace said, his expression both calculating and faraway. “Come on. Let’s get back to the others.”

There was no time to reply; Jace was already retreating. Alec followed him, crawling backward, out of range of sight of the Dark Gard. Once they had gone enough of a distance, they straightened up and half-slid down the scree slope to where the others were waiting. Simon was standing by Izzy, and Clary had her sketchpad and a pen out and was drawing runes. From the way she was shaking her head, tearing out the pages and crumpling them up in her hand, it wasn’t going as well as she might have liked.

“Are you littering?” Jace demanded as he and Alec jogged to a stop beside the other three.

Clary gave him what was probably meant to be a withering look, but which came out fairly soppy. Jace returned it just as soppily. Alec wondered what would happen if he made a sacrifice to the dark demon gods of this world in exchange for not being constantly reminded that he was single. And not just single. He didn’t only
miss
Magnus; he was terrified for him, with a deep constant aching terror that never went away completely.

“Jace, this world has been burned to a cinder, and every living creature is dead,” Clary said. “I’m fairly sure there’s no one left to recycle.”

“So what did you see?” Isabelle demanded. She hadn’t been at all pleased to be left behind while Alec and Jace did recon,
but Alec had insisted that she save her strength. She was listening to him more these days, Alec thought, in that way that Izzy only listened to people whose opinions she respected. It was nice.

“Here.” Jace pulled his stele from his pocket and knelt down, shrugging off his gear jacket. The muscles of his back moved under his shirt as he used the pointed tip of the stele to draw in the yellowish dirt. “Here’s the Dark Gard. There’s one way in, and that’s through the gate in the outer wall. It’s closed, but an Open rune should take care of that. The question is how to get to the gate. The most defensible positions are here, here, and here”—his stele made quick swipes in the dirt—“so we go around and up the back. If the geography here is like it is in our Alicante, and it looks like it is, there’s a natural pathway up the back of the hill. Once we get closer, we split here and here”—the stele made swirls and patterns as he drew, and a patch of sweat darkened between his shoulder blades—“and we try to herd any demons or Endarkened toward the center.” He sat back, worrying at his lip. “I can take out a lot of them, but I’ll need you to keep them contained while I do it. Do you understand the plan?”

They all stared for a few silent moments. Then Simon pointed. “What’s that wobbly thing?” he said. “Is it a tree?”

“Those are the
gates
,” Jace said.

“Ohh,” said Isabelle, pleased. “So what are the swirly bits? Is there a moat?”

“Those are trajectory lines—Honestly, am I the only person who’s ever seen a strategy map?” Jace demanded, throwing his stele down and raking his hand through his blond hair. “Do you understand
anything
I just said?”

“No,” Clary said. “Your strategy is probably awesome, but your drawing skills are terrible; all the Endarkened look like trees, and the fortress looks like a frog. There has to be a better way to explain.”

Jace sank back on his heels and crossed his arms. “Well, I’d love to hear it.”

“I have an idea,” Simon said. “Remember how before, I was talking about Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Vividly,” Jace said. “It was a dark time.”

Simon ignored him. “All the Dark Shadowhunters dress in red gear,” he said. “And they’re not enormously bright or self-driven. Their wills seem to be subsumed, at least in part, by Sebastian’s. Right?”

“Right,” Isabelle said, and gave Jace a quelling look.

“In D&D, my first move, when you’re dealing with an opposing army like that, would be to lure away a group of them—say five—and take their clothes.”

“Is this so they have to go back to the fortress naked and their embarrassment will negatively affect morale?” said Jace. “Because that seems complicated.”

“I’m pretty sure he means take their clothes and wear them as disguises,” Clary said. “So that we can sneak up to the gates unobserved. If the other Endarkened aren’t very perceptive, they might not notice.” Jace looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. “It’s in every movie, like, ever.”

“We don’t watch movies,” said Alec.

“I think the question is whether
Sebastian
watches movies,” said Isabelle. “Is our strategy when we actually see him still ‘trust me,’ by the way?”

“It’s still ‘trust me,’ ” Jace said.

“Oh, good,” Isabelle said. “For a second there I was worried there was going to be an actual plan with, like, steps we could follow. You know, something reassuring.”

“There is a plan.” Jace slid his stele into his belt and rose fluidly to his feet. “Simon’s idea for how we get into Sebastian’s fortress. We’re going to do it.”

Simon stared at him. “Seriously?”

Jace retrieved his jacket. “It’s a good idea.”

“But it’s
my
idea,” Simon said.

“And it was good, so we’re doing it. Congratulations. We’re going up the hill the way I outlined, and then we’re going to enact your plan when we get toward the top. And when we get there . . .” He turned to Clary. “That thing you did in the Seelie Court. The way you jumped up and drew the rune on the wall; could you do it again?”

“I don’t see why not,” Clary said. “Why?”

Jace began to smile.