Page 116 of Better in Black
“Well,Marysehas regrets. A lot of them, I think. The only reason we’re here is because of how much she regrets not trying sooner. She even tried to send you a fire-message.”
Max shook his head slowly. “I’m still finding all this hard to believe.”
“Think about it,” Jace said. “Whyelsewould we be here? Whatother reason could we have? If we just wanted to tour the malls of Pennsylvania we could have done that on our own.”
“I did think you had another reason for coming,” Max said, to Jace’s surprise. “When you showed up, I was sure…” He shook his head.
“Sure of what?” Jace said, puzzled.
“That you’d come for this.” Max patted the stack of parchment beside him.
“And what exactly,” said Jace, “is that?”
“A manuscript. An old one. I found it when I was in London on my travel year. I should have shared it with the Council, I suppose, but even then…I didn’t trust them with it. So after they stripped my Marks, I took it away with me. It was just about the only thing I did take.”
“So it must be important,” said Jace. “But how?”
“It’s a prophecy.”
Jace raised his eyebrows. “Can I see it?”
Max handed over a page, very carefully. The paper was so old and worn that it felt like a spiderweb; Jace had to handle it extremely gently as he held it up to the light.
The page had been thickly scribbled on; there were dots where ink had spilled, and slits where a long-ago pen had gashed the paper. “I don’t recognize the language,” Jace said. “Do you?”
“It’s not a language, more a sort of code,” said Max. “It took me years to break it, and even then, I haven’t been able to decipher the whole thing. I’ve seen enough, though.”
“Enough for what?”
“Fear.” Fire crackled in the grate. Max’s face looked like a skull in the dim light, all bones and hollows. “The prophecy speaks of the end of all Shadowhunters.”
Jace had learned to take prophecies seriously; he’d also learned that not every prophecy came true. A pile of ancient pages in an undecipherable language didn’t seem quite enough for Max to look as afraid as he did. “What makes you so sure there’s validity to this?”
“Because the beginning of the prophecy speaks of a time when the Clave will split,” Max said. “Some Nephilim will remain locked away in Idris, the others outside. The Time of Two, it’s called. Two Claves, two Consuls.”
“And now that’s happened,” Jace said. He felt a sort of sickness in the pit of his stomach. “Why show this to me now, after hiding it for so long?”
“Because the prophecy also contains the story of a weapon that can be found—or maybe assembled, I’m not sure of the exact words. A weapon unlike any other. One that could be the only thing that might save us.”
Jace registered the pronoun at the same time Max did.
“I mean, you,” Max added quickly. “The Nephilim.” He picked up the rest of the stack of pages; they fluttered, held together loosely by the leather straps. “I want you to take these with you, when you go. I should have reached out to the Clave earlier with this. But I assumed I’d be dismissed, ignored.”
“I won’t dismiss this,” Jace said. “Neither will Alec or any of the others.”
“I believe you,” Max said, and Jace knew that he did. “I see the way you and Clary look at each other. And the wayyoulook when you talk about Alec. I don’t believe hatred and ignorance can live where there is real love.”
Jace felt his voice catch. “The Clave will be grateful—”
“I’m not doing it for the Clave. I’m doing it because I trust you’llkeep these safe. That you’ll do the right thing, whatever that will be. And because I still think a world with Shadowhunters in it, is better than one without them.”
“Well. Thank you.” Jace decided he’d better go before he and Max Trueblood started blubbering in each other’s arms. He stood up. “I should probably get back to bed—”
“My sister,” Max said, cutting him off. “Is she—happy?”
Jace thought about it. Maryse had seemed so sad that day they found her with the Trueblood ring. He believed there was truth in that. She longed for her brother. She yearned for her family, all its missing pieces. She grieved Robert, even though she’d already lost him before his death. She grieved Max, her son, and she always would. But Jace also believed in the joy she took in her children and her grandchildren, in her relationship with Kadir, in the pleasures of her daily life. There was truth in that too.
“Yes,” Jace said. “I think she is.”
