From Cassandra Clare's google group, she put up a piece of City Of Glass's original chapter one. It's no longer in the story because Jace doesn't take Simon with him, but interesting nonetheless.
It took Clary several moments to peel the glamour off the Institute today.
It felt as if another layer of disguise had been added to the old cathedral,
like a new coat of paint. Scraping it off with her mind felt hard, even
painful. Finally it was gone and she could see the church as it was. The
high wooden doors gleamed as if they'd just been polished.
She put her hand to the knob. *I am Clary Fairchild, one of the Nephilim,
and I ask entrance to the Institute —*
The door swung open. Clary stepped inside. She looked around, blinking,
trying to identify what it was that felt somehow different about the
cathedral's interior —
She realized it as the door swung shut behind her, prisoning her in a
blackness relieved only by the dim glow of the rose window far overhead. She
had never been inside the entrance to the Institute when there had not been
dozens of flames lit in the elaborate candelabras lining the aisle between
the pews.
She took her witchlight stone out of her pocket and held it up. Light blazed
from it, sending shining spokes of illumination flaring out from between her
fingers. It lit the dusty corners of the cathedral's interior as she made
her way to the elevator set into the wall near the bare altar. She jabbed
impatiently at the call button.
Nothing happened. After half a minute went by, she pressed the button again
— and again. She laid her ear to the elevator door and listening. Not a
sound. The Institute had gone dark and silent, like a mechanical doll whose
clockwork heart had finally run down.
Clary took a step back and collapsed into one of the pews. The seat was
hard, narrow and uncomfortable, but she barely noticed. They were gone. Gone
to Idris, where she couldn't follow. Gone out of her life, taking Simon to
where she couldn't protect him. She remembered Magnus saying,* "When your
mother fled from the Shadow World, it was them she was hiding from. Not the
demons. The Shadowhunters." *He had been right, and she had been wrong to
trust the Nephilim. She had thought the Lightwoods cared about her, but all
that mattered to any of them was their precious Clave. Even Jace —
At that thought, her throat contracted and she felt the tears come in a hot
flood. She sat sobbing, clutching the witchlight stone to her chest, where
it pulsed and glowed like a heart. *Jace*. How could he do this to her?
"Clary." The soft voice came unexpectedly out of the silence behind her,
making her whirl around in her seat. A tall figure stood behind her, arms
and legs like long ungainly spokes. He wore a black velvet suit over a
shimmering emerald green shirt and a number of brightly jeweled rings
glittered on his narrow fingers. There were fancy boots involved as well,
and a deal of glitter.
"Magnus?" Clary whispered.
"Clary, my darling." His voice was as musical as ever. He sat down next to
her in the pew, his cloak moving around him like smoke. "Are you all right?"
"No. They're gone — and they took Simon — Jace called me and he said — he
said —"
"I know," Magnus said. "It was a dirty trick to play. A Clave sort of trick.
He has a lot of his father in him, your brother Jonathan."
A day before, an hour even. Clary would have told him not to say something
like that. Now she just bit her lip. "Isn't there anything I can do?" she
burst out. "There must be some way to get to Idris —"
She turned to him. "But you —"
"I'd have to disobey a direct order of the Clave to take you to Idris,
Clary," Magnus said. "I like you, but not that much."
She gave a choked laugh. "What about a Portal? If I could get to a Portal?"
"You can't. The Portals at Renwick's and Madam Dorothea's were destroyed,
and I've no idea where any other Portals might be. That sort of information
is closely guarded. And I have to tell you, Clary —"
"Let me guess. The Clave has instructed you not to help me in any way."
Clary spoke bitterly. "I know how they work by now. If Jace made some sort
of deal with them, then they were probably pretty thorough in giving him
what he asked for."
"What did he ask for?" Magnus asked, his cat's eyes sparking with curiosity.
"I think he told them that he'd bring them Simon if they could promise I'd
be kept out of whatever's going on in Idris," Clary said, almost
reluctantly.
Magnus' mouth quirked up at the corner. "He must really love you."
"No," Clary said. "I think he just doesn't want me around."
Magnus muttered something. It sounded like an exasperated expletive followed
by the word Shadowhunters, but Clary couldn't be sure. "Look," he said.
"I'll do one thing, I'll tell you the name of the warlock who helped your
mother. It's Fell. Ragnor Fell. I'll do what I can to contact him, and I'll
make sure Jace knows that Fell is the one he needs to seek out. Beyond that,
I think Jace is probably right. Stay out of what's going on in Idris — it's
going to be a political disaster area."
She looked up at him. The light of the witchlight stone caught the edges of
his sharp cheekbones and the gold in his cat eyes. "But Simon," she said.
"Do you think he'll be all right?"
"I'm sure he'll be fine," Magnus said, but she had caught the slight
hesitation in his voice before he spoke. She said nothing in reply, just
turned the witchlight stone over in her fingers, watching the light flicker
across the dark green material of her coat. Just an hour ago, she'd been so
happy to put it on —
"Simon is something very special, Clary," added Magnus. "A vampire who can
withstand daylight. He's not helpless. He may not need your protection. He
would do well to learn to use the gifts he has." He stood up, a
spectacularly tall and thin figure, dark and spidery in the dim light. "As
would you."
-Emma
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