Chapter 95 – No Mercy, No Remorse

--- 1.5 hours before sunset. ---

"Jonathan Morgenstern?" asked the leader of the faeries with feigned ignorance. He didn't seem to share the respect for his Queen's allies – if the Seelie Queen herself held any respect for Valentine at all. Isabelle doubted it. "Of all the places you shouldst be, you choose to come here?"

"I am where my father wants me to be," was all Jonathan replied. His passive expression gave nothing away. Isabelle had to admit that she had been more afraid of this than of the actual fight. For while an exchange of blows was direct and honest, this exchange of words had the power to shatter deceptions.

"Strange indeed, given that your father never proclaimed your arrival," the faerie knight next to Adam remarked sharply, looking at the two kneeling Shadowhunters with undeniable scorn. They carefully rose from their bow and returned the gaze of the fairies with warning intensity. For them, Jonathan's presence seemed to have hardened the fronts between Nephilim and Shadowworlders again.

"What exactly are you implying, faerie?" Jonathan shot back, spitting out the name of the creature as if the very thought of it disgusted him. With his sword raised, he approached the scene.

He was still far enough away that his face was not as much in focus as his white hair or the holy sword. But every step moved the boundary a little further. Every minute made the horror of his presence subside a little more. Soon it would become clear how well these Shadowhunters really knew Jonathan Morgenstern. Isabelle could only hope that they had never met him in person. As long as they were defectors, as Adam's emotional outburst from earlier suggested, this was actually within the realm of possibility.

"I do suggest that you're quite a great distance from Alicante." The faerie swung his own weapon no less provocatively in front of his body – so close to Adam's head that some of the ends of his battle-ruffled hair came to an abrupt end and fell to the ground like feathers. The whole thing happened so quickly that he could not even catch his breath. "Shouldst not the little prince be within the city to disable the towers?"

"Don't worry, little elf." Jonathan's mouth twisted in a bizarre way that reminded Isabelle of the horror movies of the mundanes. So exaggerated and unnatural that any person in their right mind would have immediately turned on their heel and fled – only the naive protagonists of these movies never seemed to understand that they were dealing with possessed people or ghosts. In the past, they had always seemed unrealistic and unoriginal to her. Now that everyone seemed to have frozen on the beach, she suddenly realized that there might have been some grain of truth in them after all. "I serve my father and him alone. You don't need to know more. More is none of your business. So if you don't feel the need to die today, I would stop questioning my motives. Understood?"

Nerve-wracking seconds passed in which none of the faeries opened their mouths. Instead, they exchanged long glances with each other, obviously to get a sense of the group's mood.

"How may we be of service to you, Lord Jonathan?" One of the two surviving Shadowhunters had stepped forward with his head bowed. The distance between Jonathan and their group was melting away, but neither of them seemed to know the actual face of Valentine's son. Thank Raziel.

"These prisoners are friends of my sister," he replied in an icy tone that under normal circumstances would have raised the hairs on Isabelle's neck. Under the given circumstances, she heard the barely perceptible hesitation before the word sister. "Consequently, they're of far greater use to me alive."

"Of course, of course." The Nephilim nodded and turned to the faeries. "Tie their hands so they don't cause us any trouble."

"Bind them yourself. We are not your lackeys," the leader promptly spat back, grabbed Isabelle by the shoulders and gave her a strong shove. Since she was still kneeling in the sand, she fell flat on her side and thanks to her bruised head, the world began to spin around her again.

"Don't bother. I'd rather take care of it myself before you fail at this simple task," Isabelle heard Jonathan say. The fine stones of the ground crunched under the weight of his boots as he stomped straight toward her – now definitely close enough to be recognized by any connoisseur.

Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut and listened into the early evening – listening to the steady breathing of the Shadowhunters and the increasingly careful clinking of weapons from the faeries. She suppressed the urge to wrinkle her nose at the putrid muck that came from the water which, with her head in the sand, immediately filled her lungs. Finally, the footsteps faded away just behind her. Fingers closed roughly around her wrist and heaved her to her feet. She staggered and blinked to fight back the dizziness. Only to look into the coal-black eyes of Jace, towering over her, staring down at her in a mixture of ignorance and gloom.

A young man who was unmistakably Jace, but somehow not. His hellishly dark contact lenses and white-blond hair alienated him from the version of her brother. This was a version of himself that he could have become in an alternate universe, if things had happened differently more than eighteen years ago. The fact that this role was perfect down to the smallest detail – that he knew how to stage Jonathan's cruelty in such a perfidiously perfect way, as if he could actually empathize with it – finally gave Isabelle the goosebumps that had been missing so far.

Her feet wobbled beneath her, tripping over each other unintentionally as Jace dragged her toward Adam. Heedless of any injuries, just like Jonathan's merciless way. "Get up, Demonhunter," he growled and kicked Adam in the flank, causing him to double over. "Actually, I only need one of you, so don't spurn my generosity. Otherwise, I'll kill you and the other boy and keep only Lightwood here alive."

Adam staggered to his feet – the shy expression as he stared at Jace not even feigned. "Now that we have leverage against my sister, this base is no longer of relevance to my father." Jace's emotionless eyes fixed on the leader of the faeries. "Half of your unit will come with me, the other half will stay in the tent in case any more fools should wander here."

Unlike most of the warriors in his group, the faerie knight didn't avoid eye contact with the apparent Jonathan. On the contrary, he only seemed to intensify it. Isabelle didn't miss the way the corners of his mouth turned downward. As if he could sense the cunning in the atmosphere, he took another step away from Jace. The grace of his lineage took the threatening aspect out of his gesture, which was nevertheless unmistakably reflected in his facial expression.

"Do we have a problem here?" Jace asked sharply when the faerie didn't respond.

It was clear that the knight didn't completely buy Jace's act, but didn't completely rule out its reality either. Perhaps it was the fact that the fairies were generally more suspicious of other beings because of their honesty. The faerie seemed to be struggling with whether he should voice his doubts out loud and, in the worst case, take the blame.

Meanwhile, Jace's patience was running out in the same way that Jonathan's would have in this situation of limited obedience to orders. With a tug, Jace got rid of Isabelle, who stumbled against Adam. Within this time, Jace had already drawn the fake Mellartach and closed the gap to the leader. "There's no room for skeptics in my ranks."

The faerie raised his own blade in defense. His mouth open in a cry of anger, he backed away instead of attacking. A duel in which Jace would not have been clearly identified as the winner under normal circumstances. The visibly stockier and larger faerie parried his first blow effortlessly but remained cautious. Because if this emotionally consumed young man was Jonathan Morgenstern, killing him was not an option: the Seelie Queen would certainly not let him live after he had endangered the alliance with Valentine in such a fatal way.

Isabelle let her eyes wander over the remaining faeries, who, despite their highly developed reflexes, were slow to awaken from their trance. Probably because none of them wanted to risk their own death by Jace's blade or being branded a traitor by their Queen.

"We have to do something," Isabelle whispered in Adam's ear. He was still holding her tightly since Jace had pushed her against him. Although her trust in Adam was far from fully restored, she was grateful that she could so carelessly claw her fingers into his gear. Right now, she needed the support she could not provide for herself.

"Already?" he grumbled, clearly dissatisfied with the faeries and Shadowhunters alike. Two of the knights had meanwhile thrown themselves at their leader and were trying to de-escalate the situation. Didn't they understand that de-escalation was a foreign word to Jonathan Morgenstern? What did they even know about him and his state?

"Apart!" one of the Nephilim ordered them at that moment. With his sword drawn, he tried to force his way between Isabelle and Adam. "No whispering here. Lord Jonathan will take care of–"

The cracking chopping of a severed spine interrupted him. Isabelle whirled around just in time to see the faerie leader's head sink into the sand with a dull crunch. A second later, a spurt of blood bathed the beach in a red massacre, accompanied by the tortured roars of the faeries surrounding Jace.

Jace, looking less than unfazed by his decapitation, fixed each of them with a warning stare. "That's what happens to those who defy a Morgenstern! Who wants to be next?"

The silence, the coldness, the lack of involvement cut like a knife through Isabelle's insides. It wasn't the first time she had seen Jace kill someone. But it was the first time she had seen no remorse or regret or even the heaviness that comes with death on his face. Who was this man? Where was her Jace? Because this wasn't her Jace.

"You cannot contend with us all at once, Nephilim" spat one of the faerie knights, turning the axe expectantly in her left hand. She would not let her oath to her Queen stop her from avenging her comrade. Judging by the expressions on the faces of the fairies surrounding her, more than enough shared her opinion.

"You will do nothing of the sort!" the Shadowhunter who had just been bothering Isabelle and Adam now interrupted and was at Jace's side in no time. "Due to your Queen's alliance, you're all subordinate to Lord Valentine and thus also to his son. Raising a weapon against him would mean raising a weapon against your Queen!"

Jace, whose anger was seeping more and more to the surface, didn't seem to care that he wasn't sticking to their agreed plan. With the false Mortal Sword firmly in his hand, he threw challenging looks at the faeries as if he wanted to slaughter them all single-handedly. The time had come to intervene to prevent a suicide mission on Jace's part. If Jace was here, Alec and Magnus could not be far away. They were most likely hiding at the edge of the forest, waiting for the signal that Jace should have given long ago.

Isabelle's braids swung around as she turned to the remaining Shadowhunter, gave him a powerful kick, and took possession of his seraph blade. The blade shimmered in the orange light of the setting sun as Isabelle raised it to the sky like a torch, its flames kissing the clouds. Even as the Shadowhunter picked himself up and charged at her, she kept it raised aloft. Even as he reached for a dagger and brought his arm into throwing position.

The moment Isabelle took an evasive step to the left, a collection of sapphire sparks swept across the beach. Like a shooting star across the night sky, a glittering ball of light shot past her and struck the second Shadowhunter in the chest — hurling him away from them, straight into the shallow waters of Lake Lyn.

Isabelle turned away before his head could reappear. If he did. With the element of surprise on her side, she took out the faerie who was closest to her. She looked around searchingly for Adam and Paal. With a well-aimed shin kick, Paal freed himself from one of the faeries that had stayed behind to guard them. At the same time, Adam let one of his remaining knives fly. It dug itself up to the hilt into the side of the faerie man's neck, who gurgled and lost his footing under his legs and collapsed in the sand, spitting blood.

The second hostile Shadowhunter had joined Jace, who he still believed to be Jonathan. Together they took on a wave of angry faeries. It was pure chaos. Jace's acting had caused the necessary division in their unit: some joined their brothers and sisters in the fight against Jace, others tried to stop them from breaking their oath. Hardly anyone cared about Isabelle, Adam or Paal any longer. Much too late they noticed the appearance of Magnus and Alec, who emerged from behind the golden tent in the forest – east to where Isabelle and the others had ambushed the false Valentine.

Only the two newcomers brought the once-cold partnership of the unit a little closer to its original state. The dazzling warlock, surrounded by a magical shimmer, and the determined Shadowhunter, armed with bow and arrow, came to a halt outside melee range. Two of the faerie knights drew their own bows, while the other fey, without another word, formed a formation. They clearly held the upper hand, as they presumed Jace was on their side — despite their previous conflict. Six against twelve could be pretty good odds

None of them expected to end up with a sword in their back. The remaining members of the unit, who had waited undisturbed in the golden tent a few minutes ago for someone to fall into their trap, didn't see how they themselves were now falling into the trap of deception. Accompanied by a synchronicity that suggested decades of agreement and trust, the faeries turned towards Magnus and Alec – and in doing so, with Jace, Isabelle, Adam and Paal at their backs, they trapped themselves between two fronts.

Not a single sound escaped Jace's lips as he slaughtered them. No warning to give them a futile opportunity to defend themselves. No words to announce his change of role from Jonathan to Jace. From across the battlefield, the difference between the two was indistinguishable, and Isabelle doubted very much that Jace's attitude had changed at all. Not a single blink of an eye to temper the fierce determination in his blazing golden irises. None of that as he stabbed the faeries in the back like a hunting lion on its unsuspecting prey.

Paal and Alec shot arrows at them from both sides, but Isabelle and Adam could not help but watch Jace, frozen. Isabelle could almost feel the cold fear of his raid shooting through her own veins as he mowed down the first three faeries like falling chess pieces in a harmless game. Except that their blood soaked the coarse sand a deep red.

By the time the decimated unit realized what was happening, it was already too late. Next, Jace stabbed the defecting Shadowhunter, who had stopped right next to him despite his astonishment at Jonathan's irrational death march. Even facing death, Valentine's followers seemed to consider the execution of Shadowworlders legitimate. Only when he saw the whirring sword in his abdomen did his innocent confusion turn to shocked understanding. Only now did the man realize that Jace had not only betrayed the faeries, but all of them. His blind hatred of the Shadowworlders had closed his eyes.

Of twelve warriors, only eight remained. Eight faces whose emotional spectrum ranged from anger to realization. The apathetic Jace allowed himself to be drawn back into the vortex of battle willingly and without delay. All anger had vanished from his features, and he bore similarities to a robot that moved forward mechanically and according to a memorized pattern. As if his spirit were no less dead than Clary's. As if, like Jonathan, only his shell remained on earth as evidence of his existence.

Isabelle knew that Jace wanted to finish Valentine off personally. She had seen his expression in Basilia's; the depths of the desire for revenge that he had barely been able to conceal since they had arrived at the lake. She also knew that if he went into battle alone against eight faeries, he would not survive until then. So she forced her legs into motion, putting one foot in front of the other, her stolen seraph blade at the ready.

Although Isabelle wasn't supposed to make a distinction, she could at least empathize with Adam on one point: she also found it harder to strike down Nephilim – albeit for different reasons. And so her pupils quickly darted away from the soaking wet man that Magnus's magic had sent into the lake a few minutes ago. The sharpened end of her blade only grazed his throat in passing, but she knew it was enough. Just a finger that fleetingly felt for the water's surface and broke through it with involuntary ease.

As she rushed toward Jace, a past scene pressed itself into her mind's eye. A young woman, screaming with rage, running up a snowy slope with her sword drawn – straight into the arms of a group of young men who vastly outnumbered her. Against the odds, she had no other way of quenching the pain in her chest. In that moment, Jace resembled her more than he realized.

Overall, the rest of the fight wasn't a tense affair. Adam joined Isabelle's attack and, combined with a mix of arrows and well-aimed magic blasts, their reunited unit soon found itself at the center of a bloody devastation.

Even though there was no one left to stand in his way, Jace gripped his hilt so tightly that the veins in his arms stood out. Only gradually did the realization sink in and he lowered his weapon. Isabelle didn't even pretend to secretly watch him as she observed him blink several times, as if waking from a trance. His expression didn't change. He stared at the lifeless fairies and, after some thought, finally raised his head to the sky.

"What time is it?" His voice had changed. Jonathan's dominant sharpness was gone, and a new impersonal distance took its place.

Alec glanced at his watch, hidden under his uniform. "Twenty past five."

They still had little more than an hour until sunset. The scorching red atmosphere was enough of an indicator – its color suspiciously similar to Clary's hair. Jace's expression darkened with agonizing anger as he hastily lowered his eyes.

"We should clear the beach of the obvious evidence of our confrontation before we move on," Magnus whispered to the group with unusual restraint.

While the rest of the group carried the bodies into the privacy of the golden tent, Magnus dug up the sand so that any trace of blood was erased from the grains. When the bay was restored to its former glory, they disappeared into the western edge of the forest to discuss the final act of their plan under the cover of the trees.

oOo

--- 1 hour before sunset. ---

Jace made every effort to ignore his Parabatai's words as he reported to the rest of the group what they had discovered while Isabelle's team had been hunting the false Valentine. Any attempts to focus all his attention on Magnus's violet-painted fingers seemed abruptly shattered by his pulsating subconscious, filled with turmoil.

Magnus had managed to sense the center of the magical spells responsible for the blockade around the Brocelind Forest – which prevented the Nephilim in Alicante from using portals to find Valentine. The warlock ignored Isabelle's praises and stayed out of the discussion entirely, as did Jace. Instead, he took care to remove every memory of Jonathan from Jace's body. Magnus's magic tickled his skin as it brought back his natural eye color.

"The source is in the middle of the northern quarters. If Valentine wants to prevent the spell from being disturbed or completely broken, he'll be there himself," Jace heard Alec murmur into the unnatural silence of the forest. Protected from prying eyes, the group had gathered in a rocky depression where a narrow river must have once flowed. Jace wasn't sure if Magnus was still maintaining their illusion with all the magic he had conjured up. He didn't care enough to ask. "He still thinks Clary's here to stop him. He'll want to confront her, as his numerous attempts to kidnap her from Alicante have proven."

The boy whose name Jace had never known sighed. "Our only chance of getting to Mellartach is to lift the spell."

"And for that we have to go to Valentine's camp," added Adam, who had seemed defeated since the beginning of the mission. At least there he would not have to face his parents, who were behind bars in the Gard thanks to his betrayal. Was there actually something or someone that Adam had not betrayed? Although he seemed to genuinely mourn her, Jace could not bring himself to believe him. His parents' arrest could have been just as much a farce as his friendship with her – a facet of the Cohort's plan and thus now of Valentine's. "Where we will be completely outnumbered."

Isabelle's opinion followed promptly. "First, we need to reach Aaron's meeting point. Let's hope that Linne is still alive so she can help Magnus with the glamour." To the point and unwavering as always. "The infiltration's the most important part of Clary's plan. We can't mess that up." As she spoke the last sentence, her focus drifted over to Jace.

Jace knew that his recent behavior frightened her. Isabelle's normally fearless eyes had spoken clearly in the appearance of his impersonation of Jonathan. Her ability to register almost every vibration of her surroundings was only a mirror of his own uncontrollable emotions. Despite his disgust at Isabelle's emotionalism, the emptiness in Jace's chest was too deep to escape. He didn't want to frighten her, but at the same time he could not bring himself to act more like his usual self because he had lost touch with that very self. From one moment to the next, without him noticing, it had ceased to exist, leaving behind a gap that he only knew how to fill with anger and harshness.

Hearing one more word about Clary's plan would drive Jace crazy. When he closed his eyes, he saw her clearly in his mind's eye: willing to take any pain because, according to Valentine, it had to be endured – because to him she was just a weapon honed by pain that had to stand at attention under every parry and attack. When in truth she wasn't the weapon, but the warrior who wielded it – and wise warriors avoided unnecessary pain to save their stamina for the inevitable moments.

Pain makes us weak, she had always said, and right now Jace could not help but agree with her.

Pain makes us human, he had replied at the time, but right now he could not help but want to get rid of this humanity. It was nothing but a reminder of his loss and as such he cursed it.

Maybe they were both right. Maybe pain was capable of more than he and she had believed.

Someone snapped his fingers vehemently in front of Jace's nose. "... unbelievable! Jace! Are you even listening to us?"

Jace winced, pushing his swirling thoughts into a tightly locked cell before blinking and meeting Isabelle's gaze. The attention of the entire unit was on him. The effort to freeze the pain under a layer of ice for later cost him a response. The ignorance of her poorly concealed compassion would have nearly choked him on his breath if he had not known that her emotions were stemming from her own grief.

When Jace made no attempt to explain himself or say anything in response, Isabelle narrowed her eyes and jerked her hand away. He wanted to shake himself, to tear down his fortress built out of feigned emotionlessness. Yet Valentine was so close and Jace's revenge so close to being realized.

None of them said what Jace was thinking. That he was risking all of their lives with his ignorance. They let him get away with it because it was him, and that only made it worse from his perspective. They didn't deserve this.

"We're going to infiltrate the camp," Alec began calmly, but stopped abruptly. The tension that suddenly emanated from him swept across their Parabatai bond to Jace like the gentle scratch of a finger on his skin. Alec's head wasn't the only one to shoot up, however – only Magnus remained in his position, the leisurely nature of his posture clearly due to his hundreds of years of life. Who knew what the warlock had already seen and experienced? Perhaps this life-shattering disaster called Valentine Morgenstern was nothing more to Magnus Bane than an annoying wasp at lunch.

Augmented by Hearing runes, the Shadowhunters picked up the distant but increasing sound of footsteps moving rapidly and purposefully through the forest – clearly heading toward their unit.

Alec's finger slid first to his lips and then to the hilt of his bow. Jace and the other Nephilim imitated him without hesitation. For half a minute they listened to the stretching shadows of the setting sun. The thump of footsteps on the icy and rooted earth seemed too silent for their proximity, yet even the snow could cushion the tread of boots so much.

"Quietude rune?" Adam whispered questioningly into the breeze, skepticism written on his furrowed brow.

The nameless boy shook his head. "Then we wouldn't hear them at all."

He was right. If there were hostile Nephilim out there, they would not have noticed their presence until much later through the Quietude runes. When it would have been almost too late. Whoever was running towards them had to–

Jace wasn't the only one who flinched when a shadow flew across their rock chasm – too vague and sudden to be natural. Jace was already on his feet, his seraph blade at the ready, when a second shape appeared. Unlike the first, it was without any haste, so that he could meet the yellow wolf eyes that were watching down into their chasm without hesitation.

The wolf, dark brown fur and as tall as a pony, shook itself as if it had been running through rain. But the shaking of its body didn't subside, only seemed to increase – until its fur began to bulge and the wolf's form disappeared in a blur. It happened too quickly for any of the transformation to be noticeable, even with the Nephilim runes.

Then suddenly Maia was crouching at the top of the slope. Even after the transformation, you could tell she had been running: her mahogany-colored curls curled around her shoulders in a disarray, and the Nephilim-provided gear bore blood-crusted scratches. Her pupils slid over the remaining unit before she slid down the rocky depression with an innate ease of the Shadowworlders. She had not yet cleared the measly two meters when Lyall's head appeared directly above Jace and Magnus, who were sitting at the opposite end of the crevasse. Unlike Maia, he let his head sweep through the surrounding trees one last time, checking them out, and then swung sideways over the edge of the rocky depression.

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine," Maia blurted out without further ado, waving off Isabelle and Alec's budding words. Isabelle had already put her arm around Maia, but she pulled away from the young Shadowhunter before physical contact could be properly established. "Don't take it personally, but we have absolutely no time for these polite phrases."

Isabelle's expression showed that she wasn't just feigning concern for Maia and Lyall. Jace didn't know much about her sister's connections in the Downworld, but she was definitely more popular than him in New York. Which was hardly surprising, given his reckless nature.

Lyall dropped down onto a rock next to Jace and undid his messed-up braid to straighten it. Only now did Jace notice that his right leg was bleeding relentlessly around the ankle. Magnus noticed it just a second after him and immediately crouched down in front of the werewolf.

"What happened?" asked Magnus as he carefully pushed up the torn trousers.

A suppressed hiss escaped Lyall. "We accompanied Aaron's group as agreed," he reported, without looking at the warlock or his wounded leg. His calm fingers skillfully ran through his bronze-brown strands – as if the action calmed him down. "They have fallen into the faeries' sights much too quickly. Maia and I were just able to get away, but by now Valentine will know about us, so the third trail is useless. They didn't even follow us."

The division of the unit into three subgroups had primarily been done to increase the likelihood that at least part of them would reach Valentin's camp. Aaron from the north or Alec from the west — Maia and Lyall had been sent east as a distraction to confuse the keen noses of the faeries. They were supposed to join Aaron and accompany him. If everything had gone according to plan.

"They didn't kill them all, if that's any consolation," Maia continued as Lyall squirmed under Magnus's treatment, his teeth clenched. "Thanks to the dyed hair, they think Eva is Clary and have captured her. Aaron was also alive before we disappeared. The woods are full of traps ..." She paused, taking in the state of the others. "But you obviously know that yourselves. As soon as Valentine sees Eva, however, he'll know that we've deceived him. If he hasn't already heard the truth from his spies in Alicante."

"Let's hope Imogen doesn't screw up her end of the job." Adams stared at Lyall's ankle as if hypnotized. Jace wasn't sure if he even noticed or if his mind had drifted off.

"Valentine may claim to be free of weaknesses, but he has proven several times that he has a weakness for his children. Not out of love, but because he considers them his property," said Magnus.

Thoughtfully, Alec examined the growing group. "We need to reach his camp before he finds us. Since Linne is most likely dead, we can't rely on any transformation spells for the infiltration. However, Clary also had a solution for that, even though it's significantly riskier. But we're faced with two problems here, so Magnus, Maia, Paal, and I will handle the portalling-blockade and Izzy, Jace, Lyall, and Adam will go get Mellartach."

"This is going to be a suicide mission," sighed Isabelle and buried her face in her hands.

Maia grinned almost imperceptibly. "It was nice knowing y'all."

"In case Valentine cuts off my head, I want to be burned without ceremony," Adam muttered, not looking up from Lyall's foot, which had started to heal thanks to Magnus. The werewolf gave him a suspicious look that Adam either didn't notice or deliberately ignored.

"Enough of your self-pity. If you children don't even believe that you have a chance, you will perish without a one." Magnus had risen from Lyall and clicked his tongue reproachfully.

"By now, Valentine will have sent his men to pursue us," Lyall remarked, his voice several octaves more relaxed than before.

"Then we'll take different routes." Magnus shrugged as if he were confronted with kindergarten children, which under normal circumstances would have made Jace grin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Isabelle struggling against hers. "It's not far to the camp. Your group will avoid the faeries, so they don't catch the scent. Mine will take a shortcut through the lake."

"Through the ... lake?" Maia looked as if she was sure she had misunderstood.

Now the warlock allowed himself a self-satisfied grin. He let a few crackling sparks fly from his fingertips. "I'm the High Warlock of Brooklyn for a reason, young werewolf. I will maneuver us through Lake Lyn and with a little luck, they will patrol the edges of the forest more heavily."

"The rest of this phase will go as Clary planned. So follow the signs we agreed on. We'll meet at Valentine's camp." Alec walked over to Jace and wrapped him in a brotherly embrace. After they broke apart, Jace looked into his sky-blue irises and suppressed a longing sigh for the old days; when everything had still been fine. "When we meet again, you will get your revenge."

Jace could only nod in response. The hot glow of anticipation gripped him at the thought of his task. "This is no farewell."

Alec patted his upper arm in agreement. "Certainly not."

Jace watched his Parabatai say goodbye to Isabelle and climb up the rocks at Magnus's side, giving him one last glance over his shoulder before he and the rest of his half of the group disappeared above the slope.

-

Happy New Year!