Cassandra Clare - City of Ashes

"No, don't ask them. Ask Luke."

"Go all the way back to Brooklyn, you mean? Look, sneaking out of here is going to be all but impossible—"

"Use Isabelle's phone. Text Clary. Tell her to ask Luke."

"Okay." Alec paused. "Do you want me to say anything else to her for you? To Clary, I mean, not Isabelle."

"No," Jace said. "I don't have anything to say to her."

"Simon!" Clutching the phone, Clary whirled toward Luke. "He says someone's trying to break into his house."

"Tell him to get out of there."

"I can't get out of here," Simon said tightly. "Not unless I want to catch on fire."

"Daylight," she said to Luke, but she saw he'd already realized the problem and was searching for something in his pockets. Car keys. He held them up.

"Tell Simon we're coming. Tell him to lock himself in a room until we get there."

"Did you hear that? Lock yourself in a room."

"I heard." Simon's voice sounded tense; Clary could hear a soft scraping sound, then a heavy thump.

"Simon!"

"I'm fine. I'm just piling things against the door."

"What kind of things?" She was out on the porch now, shivering in her thin sweater. Luke, behind her, was locking up the house.

"A desk," Simon said with some satisfaction. "And my bed."

"Your bed ?" Clary climbed up into the truck beside Luke, struggling one-handed with her seat belt as Luke peeled out of the driveway and rocketed down Kent. He reached over and buckled it for her. "How did you lift your bed?"

"You forget. Super vampire strength."

"Ask him what he's hearing," Luke said. They were speeding down the street, which would have been fine if the Brooklyn waterfront had been better maintained. Clary gasped every time they hit a pothole.

"What are you hearing?" she asked, catching her breath.

"I heard the front door crash in. I think someone must have kicked it open. Then Yossarian came streaking into my room and hid under the bed. That's how I knew there was definitely someone in the house."

"And now?"

"Now I don't hear anything."

"That's good, right?" Clary turned to Luke. "He says he doesn't hear anything now. Maybe they went away."

"Maybe." Luke sounded doubtful. They were on the expressway now, speeding toward Simon's neighborhood. "Keep him on the phone anyway."

"What are you doing now, Simon?"

"Nothing. I've shoved everything in the room against the door. Now I'm trying to get Yossarian out from behind the heating vent."

"Leave him where he is."

"This is all going to be very hard to explain to my mom," Simon said, and the phone went dead. There was a click and then nothing, call disconnected flashed on the digital display.

"No. No !" Clary hit the redial button, her fingers trembling.

Simon picked up immediately. "Sorry. Yossarian scratched me and I dropped the phone."

Her throat burned with relief. "That's fine, just as long as you're still okay and—"

A noise like a tidal wave crashed through the phone, obliterating Simon's voice. She yanked the phone away from her ear. The display still read call connected.

" Simon !" she screamed into the phone. "Simon, can you hear me?"

The crashing noise stopped. There was the sound of something shattering, and a high, unearthly yowl—Yossarian? Then the sound of something heavy striking the ground.

"Simon?" she whispered.

There was a click and then a drawling, amused voice spoke in her ear. "Clarissa," it said. "I should have known you'd be on the other end of this phone line."

She squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach falling out from under her as if she were on a roller coaster that had just made its first drop. "Valentine."

"You mean 'Father,' " he said, sounding genuinely annoyed. "I deplore this modern habit of calling one's parents by their first names."

"What I actually want to call you is a hell of a lot more unprintable than your name," she snapped. "Where's Simon?"

"You mean the vampire boy? Questionable company for a Shadowhunter girl of good family, don't you think? From now on I'll be expecting to have a say in your choice of friends."

" What did you do to Simon ?"

"Nothing," said Valentine, amused. "Yet."

And he hung up.

By the time Alec came back into the training room, Jace was lying on the floor, envisioning lines of dancing girls in an effort to ignore the pain in his wrists. It wasn't working.

"What are you doing?" Alec asked, kneeling down as close to the shimmering wall of the prison as he could get. Jace tried to remind himself that when Alec asked this sort of question, he really meant it, and that it was something he had once found endearing rather than annoying. He failed.

"I thought I'd lie on the floor and writhe in pain for a while," he grunted. "It relaxes me."

"It does? Oh—you're being sarcastic. That's a good sign, probably," Alec said. "If you can sit up, you might want to. I'm going to try to slide something through the wall."

Jace sat up so quickly that his head spun. "Alec, don't—"

But Alec had already moved to push something toward him with both hands, as if he were rolling a ball to a child. A red sphere broke through the shimmering curtain and rolled to Jace, bumping gently against his knee.

"An apple." He picked it up with some difficulty. "How appropriate."

"I thought you might be hungry."

"I am." Jace took a bite of the apple; juice ran down his hands and sizzled in the blue flames that cuffed his wrists. "Did you text Clary?"

"No. Isabelle won't let me into her room. She just throws things against the door and screams. She said if I came in she'd jump out the window. She'd do it too."

"Probably."

"I get the feeling," Alec said, and smiled, "she hasn't forgiven me for betraying you, as she sees it."

"Good girl," said Jace with appreciation.

"I didn't betray you, idiot."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Good, because I brought you something else, too. I don't know if it'll work, but it's worth a try." He slid something small and metallic through the wall. It was a silvery disk about the size of a quarter. Jace set the apple aside and picked the disk up curiously. "What's this?"

"I got it off the desk in the library. I've seen my parents use it before to take off restraints. I think it's an Unlocking rune. It's worth trying—"

He broke off as Jace touched the disk to his wrists, holding it awkwardly between two fingers. The moment it touched the line of blue flame, the cuff flickered and vanished.

"Thanks." Jace rubbed his wrists, each one braceleted with a line of chafed, bleeding skin. He was starting to be able to feel his fingertips again. "It's not a file hidden in a birthday cake, but it'll keep my hands from falling off."

Alec looked at him. The wavering lines of the rain-curtain made his face look elongated, worried—or maybe he was worried. "You know, something occurred to me when I was talking to Isabelle earlier. I told her she couldn't jump out the window—and not to try or she'd get herself killed."

Jace nodded. "Sound big-brotherly advice."

"But then I started wondering if that was true in your case—I mean, I've seen you do things that were practically flying. I've seen you fall three stories and land like a cat, jump from the ground to a roof—"

"Hearing my achievements recited is certainly gratifying, but I'm not sure what your point is, Alec."

"My point is that there are four walls to this prison, not five."

Jace stared at him. "So Hodge wasn't lying when he said we'd actually use geometry in our daily lives. You're right, Alec. There are four walls to this cage. Now if the Inquisitor had gone with two, I might—"

"JACE," Alec said, losing patience. "I mean, there's no top to the cage. Nothing between you and the ceiling."