They continued silently through the black labyrinth of city streets, Luke's light foot falls drowned out by the pounding, angry steps of Jace. Jace was furious, confused and slightly dazed. What woman, what mother, could abandon her child like that? His fists curled tight in his pockets, the anger boiling in his fingertips. For once he was grateful Clary was in her current state, innocent and unable to experience her mother's cruelty. He found some peace in the knowledge that Clary at least had Luke, a parental form of person, to be by her side. But it did little to combat the rage at her mother whom, if he had anything to do with it, would not be seeing her daughter again.

Luke felt like he was walking on broken glass, his heart shattering more with each step he took towards the Lightwood mansion. The cool night wind biting at his exposed skin and penetrating to his raging insides. He felt torn, his loyalties wanting to remain with his beloved but his morals screaming how wrong her actions were. He slowly came to a conclusion as they reach the Lightwood's steps. He would be there for Clary, as much as he could, fill the void her mother coldly left, and deal with Jocelyn later.

Jace slowly opened the heavy door and stepped back, allowing Luke to enter ahead of him, before following him silently inside. Jace found Maryse and Robert still in the sitting room as he guided Luke through the house. Maryse lifted her head from where it had lain, cushioned on her husband's chest. A small frown crinkled her brow.

"Where is Jocelyn?" she asked quietly.

"She won't be joining us," Jace replied glowered.

"What? Why? Has something happened to her?" Maryse asked anxiously.

Jace looked to Luke expectantly. Luke bowed his head and began to speak, "Jocelyn did not make me aware Clary was," he paused, phasing his next words carefully, "as she is. We were about to go out to dinner for the night when Jace arrived."

Maryse gasped and put a hand to her heart. Noticing he looked as if he might be sick, Jace guided Luke to a chair across from the shocked couple. Jace, upon realising Isabelle was not in the room, and assuming she was with Clary, also took a seat. There was a pregnant silence for a moment before anyone spoke.

"Has there been any word from Magus?" Jace asked.

"Not yet, but it should not be much longer," Maryse frowned as Jace growled at this, "Jace he is no doubt doing the best he can, as quickly as he can. I know it's hard but you must have some patience."

Jace scrubbed his hands over face and exhale roughly in frustration. Hard was an understatement.

"Why don't you go upstairs and sit with her a while?" Maryse suggested. He nodded and rose from his chair before thudding quietly up the stairs.

The door to her room was ajar as he approached and creaked as he pushed it open. Isabelle sat at Clary's side, cradling one of her pale white hands between hers. The glow of the lamp by the bed illuminated the salt stain tracks on Isabelle's face. It dawned on Jace in that moment that Isabelle must be feeling pain too, especially when it all began while Clary was with her. So he walked up behind her silently and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. No words were spoken but her tense shoulders sagged, the silent comfort relieving some of her burden. She looked at him over her shoulder, a silent thank you, before rising from the chair, his hand slipping of off her, and walking toward the door. Jace took her place instantly and listened as quiet footsteps descending, sounded on the staircase. He captured her hand as Isabelle had and leant forward, pressing his cracked lips to her forehead then laid his head on her chest, listening to the slow heart beat within.

Her tears stung the hundred of cuts littering her body. She no longer had the energy to lift her head, to struggle, to scream. She clung desperately to memories, replaying them constantly in her head. Jonathan had not come yet but it would not be long. Clary no longer feared him coming, she had accepted the inevitable. She also knew Jace was coming, he had to be, and she had to have faith in him. So why was she weeping? She no longer knew the answer to that. She suspected it to be in sheer misery at her situation, or perhaps the suffering of those she longer to have with her now. She would ponder about them while her captor was gone. Was her mother missing her? Who was by her bed side? These thoughts kept her distracted, along with the memoires, for the most part. Only the first slice into her skin hurt anymore, after that she could block it out, escape to what was one reality in her head.

The sound of a faint hiss filling the air made her raise her head. A familiar mist filled the air before her and a hint of sulphur drifted past her nose. Slowly Jonathan materialized in front of her, a sadistic smile gracing his lips. He had brought an old friend today. Sometimes he didn't like to get his hands dirty so he brought her; the green python coiled around his wrist. Slowly the creature unravelled itself and slid to the ground. It began to move towards her, making not even a whisper of sound. She closed her eyes and waited. She felt the scales slide along her ankle. Then the fangs sunk into her flesh. Over and over again, slicing, tearing. She did not flinch, she did not scream. She just retreated, into the recesses of her mind.

Footsteps thundered on the staircase. Jace bolted upright, activating a seraph blade as he went, posing for an attack. He had the blade under the chin of the intruder before he even knew who it was. Isabelle stood frozen before him.

He quickly dropped the blade, "what is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Magnus!' she said in a rush, "He'll be here at dawn."

"It's ready?" he asked tight and anxiously.

"It's ready."