“Fine,” I said, cowed by the conviction in his eyes. “Fine, I’ll...make ready. I just...” I blinked back the feeling. “You know I will, to save lives, to save people.” I licked my lips. “I have before. With Gavrikov. I can do it again.”
“It will not be enough,” he said, glaring at me. “You fear it, your power. I can see it in your eyes; the fear consumes you. You are afraid of it, to unleash yourself—and yet that will be the only thing that will save us all.”
“I don’t need to unleash anything,” I said. “I’ve got Wolfe in my head, remember? Unleashing has a special meaning with him—”
“Kill Bjorn,” he said, and held up the Omega operative, near lifeless. “If you truly mean that you will do whatever it takes, then show me you can do it. Show me you are willing, that you won’t hesitate, that you won’t falter when we need you most.”
“Are you frigging kidding me?” I waved a hand at him. “He’s out. I’m not killing a lump of inert matter like that.”
“Take his soul,” Old Man Winter said. “Show me.”
“I want that crawling around in my head,” I gestured at Bjorn again, “like I want to take a lit blowtorch and stick it in my ear. No, thank you.”
“Kill him,” Old Man Winter said, and pushed Bjorn forward, dangling him in front of me.
“No!” I said, and backed away. “I’m not...no.”
“Is that your final word on the matter?” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes which I ignored, and I felt the stubbornness come back, like I was talking to Mom.
“I’m not killing an unconscious man, even if he is a monster,” I said, backing away. “I’m not a murderer. I’m not like him.”
“Clary,” Old Man Winter said, jarring the big man out of listening to the conversation, watching all that was taking place, “restrain Sienna, please.”
“What?” I recoiled, almost not believing. I saw Zack move in front of Old Man Winter, as if to interpose himself between us, but a net of light hit him, and he spun, dragged to the ground by Eve Kappler’s abilities, her hands out as she turned toward me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Clary,” Old Man Winter said again. “Take hold of Sienna, please.”
“I, uh...” Clary faltered, unmoving, unsure, his eyes wide.
“Clary.” Old Man Winter’s voice crackled like thunder, and Clary shook, his skin turning metal as he turned, hesitantly, toward me.
I tensed, ready to dodge him, ready to run, but Eve’s net took me to the ground unexpectedly. I struggled against it, fighting the light, writhing hard against the ground, but it held me tight to the dirt. My head hurt from where I’d hit a rock when I went down, my shoulder screamed at me as I railed against it.
Clary’s shadow extended over me, a long, dark face cast in metal. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he dragged the net off me and anchored his hands on each of my wrists. He turned me around, pressing my back against him, carrying me, my arms twisted, in front of him. I thought about ramming my head back against his face, trying to knock myself unconscious, but I decided it was pointless.