This
scene was in the ARC for Ashes but was later deleted. It’s a good
scene for Isabelle, I think, but wasn’t really necessary to the story. It
begins at exactly the top of page 288 in the hardback US edition of City
of Ashes.
“How
convenient. Everyone’s either unconscious or apparently delirious,” said the
Inquisitor. Her knife-like voice cut through the room, silencing everyone. “Downworlder,
you know perfectly well that Jonathan Morgenstern should not be in your house.
He should have been locked up in the warlock’s care.”
“I
have a name, you know,” Magnus said. “Not,” he added, seeming to have thought
twice about interrupting the Inquisitor, “that that matters, really. In fact,
forget all about it.”
“I
know your name, Magnus Bane,” said the Inquisitor. “And quite a bit more about
you, besides. You were raised by the Silent Brothers of Madrid in the
seventeenth century. They named you and turned you out on the world when you
were sixteen. I know the things you’ve done, things you’d rather stayed hidden.
It took you this long to build up your reputation; a word from me could tear it
down again. So consider very, very carefully, if you wish to remain involved in
this situation. You’ve failed in your duty once; you won’t get another chance.”
“Failed
in my duty?” Magnus frowned. “Just by bringing the boy here? There was nothing
in the contract I signed that said I couldn’t bring him with me at my own
discretion.”
“That
wasn’t your failure,” the Inquisitor said. “Letting him see his father last
night, now that was your failure.”
There
was a stunned silence. Alec scrambled up off the floor, his eyes seeking out
Jace’s—but Jace wouldn’t look at him. His face was a mask.
Luke
spoke first. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. Clary had rarely seen him look so
angry. “Jace doesn’t even know where Valentine is. Stop hounding him.”
“Hounding
is what I do, Downworlder,” said the Inquisitor. “It’s my job.” She turned to
Jace. “Tell the truth, now, boy,” she said, “and it will all be much easier.”
Jace
raised his chin. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Really?”
The Inquisitor’s words were like the flick of a whip. “If you’re innocent, why
not exonerate yourself? Tell us where you really were last night. Tell us about
Valentine’s little pleasure boat.”
Clary
stared at him. She could read nothing in his face. I went for a walk,
he’d said. But that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he really had gone for a walk.
But her heart, her stomach, felt sick. You know what the worst thing I can
imagine is? Simon had said. Not trusting the person you love more than
anything else in the world.
When
Jace didn’t speak, Robert Lightwood said, in his deep bass voice: “Imogen? You’re
saying Valentine is—was—on a boat?”
“In
the middle of the East River,” said the Inquisitor. “That’s correct.”
“That’s
why I couldn’t find him,” Magnus said, half to himself. He still looked
stunned. “All that water—it disrupted my spell.”
“But
how would Jace even have gotten there?” Luke said, bewildered.
“Shadowhunters
are good swimmers, but the river water is freezing—and filthy—”
“He
flew,” said the Inquisitor. “He borrowed a motorcycle from the head of the city’s
vampire clan and he flew it to the boat. Isn’t that right, Jonathan?”
Jace
had dropped his hands to his sides; they were clenched into fists. “My name is
Jace.”
“There
is no Jace. Jace is a ghost, a construct you and your father invented to fool
the Lightwoods into loving you. You’re your father’s son and you always have
been.”
The
Inquisitor turned to Isabelle. “Go around the side of this house,” she said. “You’ll
find a narrow garbage alley. There’s something blocking the far end, something
covered with a tarp. Come back and tell us what it is.”
“Izzy.”
Jace’s thinned with strain. “You don’t have to do what she tells you to.”
Isabelle’s
dark eyes were snapping like firecrackers. “I want to. I want to prove to her
that she’s wrong about you.” She spoke as if the Inquisitor wasn’t there as she
rose to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”
“Isabelle—”
But
she was gone, the door falling softly shut behind her. Luke went over to Jace
and tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but Jace shook him off and went to
stand by the wall. The Inquisitor was looking at him greedily, as if she meant
to drink every drop of his misery like wine. Vicious bitch, Clary
thought. Why is she torturing him like this?
Because she’s right. The answer came as if another
voice, a treacherous voice, were speaking inside her head without her desire or
permission. He did exactly what she said he did, look at his face.
But
Jace’s face was a blank, his eyes all that lived behind the smooth, unruffled
façade. Maybe this was all part of some plan of his to discredit the
Inquisitor. Though she didn’t look as if she feared discrediting, she looked—
The
front door flew open with a bang and Isabelle marched back into the room, her
black hair whipping around her face. She looked from the Inquisitor’s expectant
face to her parents’ worried ones, from Jace’s set jaw to Alec’s furious scowl,
and said, “I don’t know what she’s talking about. I didn’t find anything.”
The
Inquisitor’s head whipped back like a king cobra’s. “You liar!”
“Be
careful what you call my daughter, Imogen,” said Maryse. Her voice was calm but
her eyes were blue fire.
The
Inquisitor ignored her. “Isabelle,” she said, lightening her tone with an
obvious effort, “your loyalty to your friend is understandable—”
“He’s
not my friend.” Isabelle looked over at Jace, who was staring at her in a sort
of daze. “He’s my brother.”
“No,”
said the Inquisitor, in a tone that was almost pitying, “he’s not.” She sighed.
“You do realize what a serious breach of the Law denying information to an
officer of the Clave is?”
Isabelle
lifted her chin, her eyes blazing. In that moment she looked like nothing more
than a smaller copy of her mother. “Of course I realize it. I’m not stupid.”
“Christ,
Imogen,” Luke snapped, “do you honestly have nothing better to do that bully a
bunch of children? Isabelle told you she didn’t see anything; now leave it.”
“Children?”
The Inquisitor turned her icicle gaze on Luke. “Just as you were children when
the Circle plotted the destruction of the Clave? Just as my son was a child
when he—” She caught herself with a sort of gasp, as if gaining control of
herself by main force.
“So
this is about Stephen after all,” said Luke, with a sort of pity in his voice. “Imogen—”
The
Inquisitor’s face contorted. “This is not about Stephen! This is about the Law!”
She turned on Isabelle, who shrank back, startled at the fury on the older
woman’s face. “By defying me, you break the Law, Isabelle Lightwood! I could
have you stripped of your Marks for this!”
Isabelle
had recovered her composure. “You can take your Law,” she said in a measured
tone, “and shove it right up your—”
“She’s
lying.” The words were spoken flatly, almost without affect. It Clary a moment
just to realize that it was Jace speaking; he moved to stand in front of the
Inquisitor, partly blocking Isabelle from her view. “You’re right. I did
everything you said I did. I took the cycle, I went to the river, I saw my
father, and I came back and stashed the bike in the alley. I admit to all of
it. Now leave Isabelle alone.”
