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�Yes, I lied to the Clave. Isabelle and Alec know Clary has some ability to create new runes,
so I doubt I'll be able to keep that from the Clave or the new Inquisitor. But if they knew she
could do what she does�amplify ordinary runes so they have incredible destructive
power�they'd want her as a fighter, a weapon. And she's not equipped for that. She
wasn't brought up for it�� He broke off, as Simon shook his head. �What?�
�You're Nephilim,� Simon said slowly. �Shouldn�t you want what's best for the Clave?
If that's using Clary��
�You want them to have her? To put her in the front lines, up against Valentine and whatever
army he�s raising?�
�No,� said Simon. �I don't want that. But I'm not one of you. I don�t have to ask myself
who to put first, Clary or my family.�
Jace flushed a slow, dark red. �It�s not like that. If I thought it would help the Clave�but it
won�t. She'll just get hurt��
�Even if you thought it would help the Clave,� Simon said, �you'd never let them have
her.�
�What makes you say that, vampire?�
�Because no one can have her but you,� said Simon.
The color left Jace's face. �So you won't help me,� he said in disbelief. �You won't help
her?�
Simon hesitated�and before he could respond, a noise split the silence between them. A high,
shrieking cry, terrible in its desperation, and worse for the abruptness with which it was cut
off. Jace whirled around. �What was that?�
The single shriek was joined by other cries, and a harsh clanging that scraped Simon's
eardrums. �Something's happened�the others��
But Jace was already gone, running along the path, dodging the undergrowth. After a
moment's hesitation Simon followed. He had forgotten how fast he could run now�he was
hard on Jace's heels as they rounded the corner of the church and burst out into the garden.
Before them was chaos. A white mist blanketed the garden, and there was a heavy smell in the
air�the sharp tang of ozone and something else under it, sweet and unpleasant. Figures darted
back and forth�Simon could see them only in fragments, as they appeared and disappeared
through gaps in the fog. He glimpsed Isabelle, her hair snapping around her in black ropes as
she swung her whip. It made a deadly fork of golden lightning through the shadows. She was
fending off the advance of something lumbering and huge�a demon, Simon thought�but it
was full daylight; that was impossible. As he stumbled forward, he saw that the creature was
humanoid in shape, but humped and twisted, somehow wrong. It carried a thick wooden plank
in one hand and was swinging at Isabelle almost blindly.
Only a short distance away, through a gap in the stone wall, Simon could see the traffic on
York Avenue rumbling placidly by. The sky beyond the Institute was clear.
�Forsaken,� Jace whispered. His face was blazing as he drew one of his seraph blades from
his belt. �Dozens of them.� He pushed Simon to the side, almost roughly. �Stay here, do
you understand? Stay here.�
Simon stood frozen for a moment as Jace plunged forward into the mist. The light of the blade
in his hand lit the fog around him to silver; dark figures dashed back and forth inside it, and
Simon felt as if he were gazing through a pane of frosted glass, desperately trying to make out
what was happening on the other side. Isabelle had vanished; he saw Alec, his arm bleeding,
as he sliced through the chest of a Forsaken warrior and watched it crumple to the ground.
Another reared up behind him, but Jace was there, now with a blade in each hand; he leaped
into the air and brought them up and then down with a vicious scissoring movement�and the
Forsaken's head tumbled free of its neck, black blood spurting. Simon's stomach
wrenched�the blood smelled bitter, poisonous.
He could hear the Shadowhunters calling to one another out of the mist, though the Forsaken
were utterly silent. Suddenly the mist cleared, and Simon saw Magnus, standing wild-eyed by
the wall of the Institute. His hands were raised, blue lightning sparking between them, and
against the wall where he stood, a square black hole seemed to be opening in the stone. It
wasn't empty, or dark precisely, but shone like a mirror with whirling fire trapped within its
glass. �The Portal!� he was shouting. �Go through the Portal!�
Several things happened at once. Maryse Lightwood appeared out of the mist, carrying the
boy, Max, in her arms. She paused to call something over her shoulder and then plunged
toward the Portal and through it, vanishing into the wall. Alec followed, dragging Isabelle
after him, her blood-spattered whip trailing on the ground. As he pulled her toward the Portal,
something surged up out of the mist behind them�a Forsaken warrior, swinging a doublebladed
knife.
Simon unfroze. Darting forward, he called out Isabelle's name�then stumbled and pitched
forward, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him, if he'd had any
breath. He scrambled into a sitting position, turning to see what he'd tripped over.
It was a body. The body of a woman, her throat slit, her eyes wide and blue in death. Blood
stained her pale hair. Madeleine.
�Simon, move!� It was Jace, shouting; Simon looked and saw the other boy running toward
him out of the fog, bloody seraph blades in his hands. Then he looked up. The Forsaken
warrior he�d seen chasing Isabelle loomed over him, its scarred face twisted into a rictus
grin. Simon twisted away as the double-bladed knife swung down toward him, but even with
his improved reflexes, he wasn't fast enough. A searing pain shot through him as everything
went black.
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