Chapter 9

Trigger Warnings: references to violence, references to childhood emotional abuse

The door to the room he had been sharing with Alec bounced off its hinges as Jace flung it open, hurrying to the shelf where he had put his weapons. He shoved a couple of extra seraph blades into his belt, just in case, and deliberated for a moment before choosing a short dagger and sliding that into the sheath on his wrist. As an afterthought he coiled Izzy's whip and placed that in his belt too – she would want it when he found her.

He cursed as he realised he hadn't replaced the stele Clary had lost. He didn't have time to try to find a replacement now, so he 'borrowed' Alec's, pushing down the twinge of guilt with the thought that Alec could always get a new one; although this did little to quash the feeling that he was betraying his parabatai's trust – not by taking his stele (it wasn't like Alec would mind) but by leaving without telling him where he was going or what he was doing…It didn't matter. He was doing this for Alec. For Alec and Izzyand Max and Maryse and Clary and – screw it – even Simon, he told himself. He was going to get Izzy back. And he was going to kill Valentine: to try to atone for staying his hand back at Renwick's, for what his father had done and would do to Downworld and the Nephilim, for what he had done to Izzy, for what he had done to Clary; and for what he had done to Jace.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and Jace, who, distracted, had not heard anyone approach, whirled with a seraph blade already in his hand.

Alec, looking rather miffed at being almost skewered by his angelic sword wielding parabatai, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hi Jace, nice to see you too."

Jace lowered the blade, caught in a strange place between apologetic, amused and annoyed. "If you don't want to become a Shadowhunter shish-kebab you shouldn't sneak up on people with weapons."

"I didn't sneak up on you!" retorted Alec, indignant. "I followed you to our bedroom – which we share, by the way – because you ran out of the room in the middle of a conversation. And also, in my defence, I – not unreasonably, I might add – did not expect you to be holding a large seraph blade because we are, you know, in a house and not under attack."

"You should be intimately acquainted with my seraph blade holding ways by now Alec." Jace shot back flippantly, not hearing the innuendo until the other boy choked.

Smirking, Jace perched on the edge of the bed in order to retie his boots. Alec, somewhat recovered, frowned – his brow furrowing. "Are you going somewhere?"

"For a walk," the younger boy replied airily. "I need to get out of here for a bit, clear my head. We're going round and round in circles."

Alec looked suspicious. "Last time you told us you were going for a walk we didn't see you for six hours, during which time the city was besieged by a demon army."

"As I told you at the time: it was a long walk." He stood up to leave but could tell, with a slight sinking feeling that mingled with affection at how much his parabatai cared, that Alec wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

"Jace, seriously, what's going on? If you're just going for a walk, why are you heavily armed?" He gestured to Jace's laden weapons belt.

"Well, like you said, last time I went for a walk we were attacked by demons, so…" He moved to pass his parabatai, but Alec caught his wrist.

"Look, I don't know what's going on, or what you think you're doing; but I trust you." Jace felt something hard and sharp lodge itself in his throat. Alec lowered his voice, "Jace, I need you to promise that you're not going to do anything stupid, okay?"

Jace swallowed hard but the lump seemed to have taken up permanent residence. "When have I ever done anything stupid?" He tried to inject lightness into his tone. From the way Alec's eyes remained intense and serious he suspected the attempt had fallen flat.

"Jace."

"Like what, Alec?"

"Like going off after Valentine on your own!" the other boy burst out harshly and Jace had to repress a flinch. "We're parabatai, Jace. I want Izzy back just as much as you do, but I won't lose you in the process. Your life is not less important to me than hers and I will not let you risk yourself without me."

Jace couldn't bring himself to meet Alec's eyes when he nodded.

"Swear on the Angel, Jace."

"I swear." The lie burned his throat but his voice was steady.

Seemingly satisfied, Alec released his wrist and Jace hastily left the room. The Angel could smite him down for his reneging on his word for all he cared – it wasn't like someone with demon blood was going anywhere but Hell anyway.

It was lying to Alec that hurt – an ache in his chest that seemed to be concentrated around his parabatai rune. Jace never lied – it was one of the few things he respected about himself. It had never been in his nature and after discovering that his and Clary's - and now Isabelle's too – whole childhoods had been based on a web of omissions, misleading information, dishonesty and barefaced lies, he had become even more averse to not telling the truth – having seen the damage it could do.

But sometimes you lied to protect people. Sometimes you lied because you loved them. Jace had never believed in his father's absolute morals and it wasn't like Valentine had followed his own strict teachings – Jace had, after all, been raised believing he was Michael Wayland's son. Sometimes lying was the only choice you had; but the excuse sounded flawed and hollow even to his own ears. It sounded like the sort of justification Jocelyn – he could never think of her as his mother – would use for what she had done to Clary.

Oh well, thought Jace grimly, demons lie.