He grinned up at her.
“Now,” he said, “that was much better. You didn’t scream at all.”
“I didn’t get the chance.” She was breathless, and not just from the impact of the fall.
Being sprawled on top of Jace, feeling his body against hers, made her hands shake and her heart beat faster. She had thought maybe her physical reaction to him—their reactions to each other—would fade with familiarity, but that hadn’t happened. If anything, it had gotten worse the more time she’d spent with him—or better, she supposed, depending on how you thought about it.
He was looking up at her with dark golden eyes; she wondered if their color had intensified since his encounter with Raziel, the Angel, by the shores of Lake Lyn in Idris.
She couldn’t ask anyone: Though everyone knew that Valentine had summoned the Angel, and that the Angel had healed Jace from injuries Valentine had inflicted on him, no one but Clary and Jace knew that Valentine had done more than just injure his adopted son. He had stabbed Jace through the heart as part of the summoning ceremony—stabbed him, and held him while he died. At Clary’s wish Raziel had brought Jace back from death. The enormity of it still shocked Clary, and, she suspected, Jace as well. They had agreed never to tell anyone that Jace had actually died, even for a brief time. It was their secret.
He reached up and pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m joking,” he said. “You’re not so bad. You’ll get there.
Youshould have seenAlec do flips atfirst. Ithink he kicked himself inthe head once.”
“Sure,” said Clary. “But he was probably eleven.” She eyed him. “I suppose you’ve always been amazing at this stuff.”
“I was born amazing.” He stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers, lightly but enough to make her shiver. She said nothing; he was joking, but in a sense it was true.
Jace had been born to be what he was. “How long can you stay tonight?”
She smiled a little. “Are we done with training?”
“I’d like to think that we’re done with the part of the evening where it’s absolutely required. Although there are a few things I’d like to practice. . . .” He reached up to pull her down, but at that moment the door opened, and Isabelle came stalking in, the high heels of her boots clicking on the polished hardwood floor.
Catching sight of Jace and Clary sprawled on the floor, she raised her eyebrows.
“Canoodling, I see. I thought you were supposed to be training.”
“No one said you had to walk in without knocking, Iz.” Jace didn’t move, just turned his head to the side to look at Isabelle with a mixture of annoyance and affection. Clary, though, scrambled to her feet, straightening her crumpled clothes.
“It’s the training room. It’s public space.” Isabelle was pulling off one of her gloves, which were bright red velvet. “I just got these at Trash and Vaudeville. On sale. Don’t you love them? Don’t you wish you had a pair?” She wiggled her fingers in their direction.
“I don’t know,” said Jace. “I think they’d clash with my gear.”
Isabelle made a face at him. “Did you hear about the dead Shadowhunter they found in Brooklyn? The body was all mangled up, so they don’t know who it is yet. I assume that’s where Mom went.”
“Yeah,” said Jace, sitting up. “Clave meeting. I ran into her on the way out.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” said Clary. “Is that why you took so long getting rope?”
He nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t want to freak you out.”
“He means,” said Isabelle, “he didn’t want to spoil the romantic mood.” She bit her lip. “I just hope it wasn’t anyone we know.”
“I don’t think it could have been. The body was dumped in an abandoned factory—had been there for several days. If it had been someone we knew, we would have noticed they were missing.” Jace pushed his hair back behind his ears. He was looking at Isabelle a little impatiently, Clary thought, as if he were annoyed she’d brought this up. She wished he’d told her earlier, even if it would have spoiled the mood. Much of what he did, what they all did, Clary knew, brought them into frequent contact with the reality of death. All the Lightwoods were, in their own ways, still grieving the loss of the youngest son, Max, who had died simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was strange. Jace had accepted her decision to leave high school and take up training without a murmur, but he shied away from discussing the dangers of a Shadowhunting life with her.
“I’m going to get dressed,” she announced, and headed for the door that led to the small changing room attached to the training area. It was very plain: pale wood walls, a mirror, a shower, and hooks for clothes. Towels were stacked neatly on a wooden bench by the door. Clary showered quickly and put on her street clothes—tights, boots, jean skirt, and a new pink sweater. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that there was a hole in her tights, and her damp and curling red hair was an untidy tangle. She would never look perfectly put together like Isabelle always did, but Jace didn’t seem to mind.
By the time she came back to the training room, Isabelle and Jace had left the topic of dead Shadowhunters behind and had moved on to something Jace apparently found even more horrifying—Isabelle’s date with Simon.
“I can’t believe he took you to an actual restaurant.” Jace was on his feet now, putting away the floor mats and training gear while Isabelle leaned against the wall and played with her new gloves. “I assumed his idea of a date would be making you watch him play World of Warcraft with his nerd friends.” would be making you watch him play World of Warcraft with his nerd friends.”
“I,” Clary pointed out, “am one of his nerd friends, thank you.”
Jace grinned at her.
“It wasn’t really a restaurant. More of a diner. With pink soup that he wanted me to try,”
Isabelle said thoughtfully.
“He was very sweet.”
Clary felt instantly guilty for not telling her—or Jace—about Maia. “He said you had fun.”
Isabelle’s gaze flickered over to her. There was a peculiar quality to Isabelle’s expression, as if she were hiding something, but it was gone before Clary could be sure it had been there at all. “You talked to him?”
“Yeah, he called me a few minutes ago. Just to check in.” Clary shrugged.
“I see,” Isabelle said, her voice suddenly brisk and cool. “Well, as I said, he’s very sweet.
But maybe a bit too sweet. That can be boring.” She stuffed her gloves into her pockets.
“Anyway, it isn’t a permanent thing. It’s just playing around for now.”