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“Go ahead and answer that if you like,” allowed Jace, magnanimously. He could wait a few more minutes before setting off for the Institute with Clary.
Folding his hands, he watched as, after glaring at him, she rummaged through her bag to take out the buzzing phone. “Mom?” She frowned listening to whatever was said on the other side, and then continued, “It's all right, mom. I'm fine. I'm on my way home—” She cut herself off starting to tremble. Jace straightened, unfolding his arms and taking a step towards her. Something was wrong.
“Mom!” She shouted, very pale now, “Mom, are you all right?” Her trembling was getting worse, and Jace clenched his fist because he couldn't do anything but wait.
“Who’s found you? Mom, did you call the police? Did you—” She gasped, and then shrieked, “Mom! Mom, are you there?”
Jace couldn't take this anymore. He came near her, hovering over her shorter form as she only reached his shoulders, and asked, “Clary, What's going on?” He wanted to help her. The girl looked so terrified and frail. His protective instincts were activated. But she wasn't paying him any attention. With shaking hands, she was still fiddling with her phone, trying to call again. Silent tears running down her pale freckled face.
She redialed a couple of times, and then the phone slipped from her shaking fingers hitting the pavement with a loud thud. Before he could bend to pick it up, she dropped down on her knees hard making him wince. Still on the ground, she picked it up, redialed and then threw the phone away in frustration when it didn't work, wiping her face absently with the back of her hands.
Heart breaking for her, because clearly something traumatic had happened, he hauled her up. Then he gripped her wrist, and holding her green teary gaze, enunciated, “Stop that. Has something happened?” He needed her to tell him what had happened so that he could do something about it, and he would.
Suddenly, as if just noticing his presence, she looked at him, really looked at him, and said, “Give me your phone.” Without waiting for his response, she reached for his sensor, “I have to—”
“It's not a phone,” he mumbled, but he let her take it. He wished it was though. He wished he could give her whatever she needed to stop crying and shaking the way she was. “It's a sensor. You won't be able to use it,” he informed her.
“But I need to call the police!”
“Tell me what happened first.” He didn't let go off her wrist when she tried to yank it back. He was determined to help her, “I can help you.”
He saw her expression change. Colour came back to her cheeks as her brows drew together and lips pressed tightly—before she struck him. More than the nails raking his cheeks, it was the surprise that took him aback and he let her go. Somehow he hadn't seen it coming.
Before he could come back to himself, she had already left, running like a bat out of hell. Still he ran towards the corner cafe of the street where she had probably taken a left, but the surprise of her attack had cost him precious time, and as he reached the turn, he couldn't spot a red-head, neither on the left side nor in any other direction. He had lost her.
As he stood there staring at the bustling street, with the orange evening sky of the dusk overhead, he realised unlike the last parting, this time more than curiosity, it was worry that he felt for her. He needed to find her, not just because he had to take her to Hodge, but also because, whether she realised it or not, she needed help, and he was going to offer it. She could take a few more shots at him for that if she liked. At least, he wouldn't be caught off-guard again.