The City of Fallen Angels (Mortal Instruments 4)(76)

“You think this is because of your father,” Clary said, and the bit of story that Jace had told her once ran through her head, to love is to destroy. And then she thought how strange it was that she would call Valentine Jace’s father, when his blood ran in her veins, not Jace’s. But she had never felt about Valentine the way you might feel about a father.And Jace had. “And you didn’t wantme to know?”

“You’re everything Iwant,” Jace said. “And maybe Jace Lightwood deserves to get everything he wants.But Jace Morgenstern doesn’t. Somewhere inside I must know that.

Or I wouldn’t be trying to destroy what we have.”

Clary took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I don’t think you are.”

He raised his head and blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You think this is psychological,” Clary said. “That there’s something wrong with you.

Well, I don’t. I think someone is doing this to you.”

“I don’t—”

“Ithuriel sent me dreams,” Clary said. “Maybe someone is sending you dreams.”

“Ithuriel sent you dreams to try to help you. To guide you to the truth. What’s the point of these dreams? They’re sick, meaningless, sadistic—”

“Maybe they have a meaning,” Clary said. “Maybe the meaning just isn’t what you think.

Or maybe whoever’s sending them is trying to hurt you.”



“Who would do that?”

“Someone who doesn’t like us very much,” said Clary, and pushed away an image of the Seelie Queen.

“Maybe,” Jace said softly, looking down at his hands. “Sebastian—”

So he doesn’t want to call him Jonathan either, Clary thought. She didn’t blame him. It was his own name too.

“Sebastian’s dead,” she said, a little more sharply than she’d intended. “And if he had had this sort of power, he would have used it before.”

Doubt and hope chased each other across Jace’s face. “You really think someone else could be doing this?”

Clary’s heart beat hard against her rib cage. She wasn’t sure; she wanted it so badly to be true, but if it wasn’t, she would have gotten Jace’s hopes up for nothing. Both their hopes.

But then she got the feeling it had been a while since Jace had felt hopeful about anything.

“I think we should go to the Silent City,” she said. “The Brothers can get into your head and find out if someone’s been messing around in there. The way they did with me.”

Jace opened his mouth and closed it again. “When?” he said finally.

“Now,” Clary said. “I don’t want to wait. Do you?”

He didn’t reply, just got up off the floor and picked up his shirt. He looked at Clary, and almost smiled. “If we’re going to the SilentCity, youmight want to getdressed.Imean, Iappreciate the bra-and-panties look, butIdon’t know if the Silent Brothers will. There are only a few of them left, and I don’t want them to die of excitement.”

Clary got up off the bed and threw a pillow at him, mostly out of relief. She reached for her clothes and began to pull her shirt on. Just before it went over her head, she caught sight of the knife lying on the bedspread, gleaming like a fork of silvery flame.

“Camille,” Magnus said. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

She smiled. Her skin looked whiter than he recalled, and dark spidery veins were beginning to show beneath its surface. Her hair was still the color of spun silver, and her eyes were still as green as a cat’s. She was still beautiful. Looking at her, he was in London again. He saw the gaslight and smelled the smoke and dirt and horses, the metallic tang of fog, the flowers in Kew Gardens. He saw a boy with black hair and blue eyes like Alec’s. A girl with long brown curls and a serious face. In a world where everything went away from him eventually, she was one of the few remaining constants.

And then there was Camille.

“I’ve missed you, Magnus,” she said.



“No, you haven’t.” He sat down on the floor of the Sanctuary. He could feel the cold of the stone through his clothes.

He was glad he had worn the scarf. “So why the message for me? Just stalling for time?”

“No.” She leaned forward, the chains rattling. He could almost hear the hissing where the blessed metal touched the skin of her wrists. “I have heard things about you, Magnus. I have heard that you are under the wing of the Shadowhunters these days. I had heard that you have won the love of one of them. That boy you were just talking to, I imagine. But then your tastes were always diverse.”

“You have been listening to rumors about me,” Magnus said. “But you could simply have asked me. All these years I was in Brooklyn, not far away at all, and I never heard from you. Never saw you at one of my parties. There has been a wall of ice between us, Camille.”

“I did not build it.” Her green eyes widened. “I have loved you always.”

“Youleftme,” he said. “Youmade a pet out of me,and thenyouleft me. If love were food, Iwouldhave starved on the bones you gave me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It had been a long time.

“But we had all of eternity,” she protested. “You must have known I would come back to you—”