Opening Gambit

"How could you let them go? How could you think it would end well?"

Isabelle stared at Jocelyn, her mouth pressed into a firm line, her eyes raised defiantly, but inside, she was withering in pain and guilt. She's certainly asking you a valid question. You thought it would be fun, you thought it would all go as planned, you thought no one would get hurt.

Jocelyn tossed her hands in the air and spun away. "What were you thinking, running off like that back to Idris? You knew Jonathan had an army of demons, and I suppose you thought you could just sneak past them all with your wiles and cunning."

Well, we did get past them, didn't we? Isabelle thought, but it didn't assuage the knowledge that she left had left Clary and Jace behind.

"I should never have left you all unattended!" Jocelyn snarled, her eyes blazing. "Clary was always so headstrong, and Jace, he always wanted to go to war. I swear on the Angel that when I get them back in my hands I'm binding them to the house! I'll tie them down if I have to, I'll never let them leave again, I'll-I'll-" But what Jocelyn was going to do, she never said, because at that moment she dissolved into tears. It was as if all the strength left her then, and she collapsed limply against the table in the kitchen, heaving sobs as she fell.

"Jocelyn," Luke said in a strained voice, and he went swiftly to her side, pulling her up and helping her into a chair. "Jocelyn, take a deep breath, go on, breathe."

Jocelyn was beyond breaths, though, and she continued to draw rasping, painful breaths that didn't seem to reach her lungs. It sounded like she was gasping. "She-she's gone, Luke! My l-little baby!"

Luke brushed the hair back from her face, whispering softly in her ear. She was beyond consolation, though, and continued to cry for her daughter, her precious daughter. Standing opposite her, trying to hide in the shadows of the kitchen, was Isabelle. She looked immensely uncomfortable, having never seen Clary's mother so distraught. She had always thought that Jocelyn was beyond feeling, and to see such a powerful woman reduced to this brought on a fresh wave of shame.

We were trying to help, Isabelle thought miserably. We just wanted the Cup.

"How did this happen?" Luke asked sharply, drawing Isabelle's attention out of her thoughts. "How did you even get to Idris in the first place?"

Luke, for his part, didn't think accusing Isabelle or her brother of abandoning Clary and Jace was going to get them very far. He saw guilt etched in the lines of Isabelle's face, the bend of her shoulders, and then turn of her frown, and though he wanted to be furious for Clary, he knew that Isabelle felt terrible. Jocelyn looked up from her misery, curious.

Why can't you just be happy we brought back the Cup? Can't you just stop looking at me like that, like I'm some monster? Isabelle's lip trembled at the look of torment on Jocelyn's face.

Isabelle bit her lip to stop words from pouring out.

The return trip from Idris had been the worst week of Isabelle's life. She and Alec had fled the castle like the very hounds of hell were snapping at their heels-it was possible they really were. Down the stairs they went, tripping in their haste, pummeling servants out of the way in their fear. Alec practically knocked the door to the slaves' quarters off its hinges and they shot through the low-ceilinged room, ignoring the curious looks that were cast their way. Back through the garden door, up the stairs to the yards, and suddenly they were bounding across dark lawns, almost blind from the lack of starlight and moonlight. Isabelle had risked a glance back at the castle and she saw no pursuers; at that time, it hadn't even crossed her mind that Jace and Clary were holding off the demons and weren't going to be joining them. They launched themselves back onto the path that led to the river, and there were their horses, tossing their heads and snorting in the cold.

At this point, Isabelle fell prey to a sudden madness. Though she had seen Clary toss her brother down the stairwell, though she saw Jace throwing himself into battle, and though she heard Clary tell them to go on, she thought that maybe, just maybe, Clary and Jace had already planned an escape. Certainly, she had thought, Jace wasn't going to let Clary stay back with her monster of a brother. Surely, they had fought their way to freedom and were even now making their way to the river and the horses.

"Alec, we have to wait," she'd called as Alec pulled himself into the saddle. "Alec, wait!"

The look on Alec's face was one of cold, hardened shock. "Isabelle, get on the horse. We have to go, now!"

"We can't leave them!" Isabelle screamed, throwing her arms wide, the Cup glinting in her hands. "I'm not going to leave Clary behind with that monster. We just have to wait for them; they're fighting, they're coming back-"

"Isabelle!" Alec snarled, nudging his horse toward his sister. "They're not coming."

Isabelle's tossed her hair back in her anger and grabbed the reins of Alec's horse. "How could you say that? You know how good a fighter Jace is; a few demons aren't going to stop him!"

"It wasn't a few demons," Alec snapped, grabbing Isabelle's wrist. He forced her to look into his eyes and she saw nothing there but cold acceptance. "It was too many, Izzy, even for Jace and Clary. They are not coming."

"But, but we can't leave them…" Isabelle stuttered, and her felt tears pooling in her eyes. "I can't leave Clary and Jace."

"There's no point, Izzy," Alec murmured, and he leaned down so that his forehead rested against hers. "They're not going to escape."

Isabelle's head sank and tears dribbled out of her eyes. Slowly, she pulled herself into the saddle and tucked the Cup against her belly. Clary and Jace had sacrificed for this Cup, and now it seemed the only way to honor their memory was to keep the Cup safe. Alec drew alongside Isabelle and clasped her arm in a brave, endearing gesture, and she sniffled then kicked her horse, and the two set off. As they fled into the night, Isabelle looked back and saw the dark outline of the castle, and she made a promise to herself then that she was going to return someday, and she was going to free Clary and Jace.

Alec and Isabelle rode hard and fast, they barely slept, they barely ate, they barely did anything but ride. For a week they ran, and everywhere they went, there was the unspoken fear that Jonathan's demons would come upon them. Every dark shadow was suddenly a demon, every odd look cast their way was a possessed man. Back through the cities, back through the villages, back through the dead woods and into the boarders of Alicante. By the time they crested the steep hills that flanked the city, they were tired to their very bones.

Following the path they had taken, Isabelle and Alec found the entrance back to the underground city and down they went. As soon as they stumbled upon the street where they lived, they made for Magnus Bane. He met them at his door and drew them quickly inside. They saw the shadows under his eyes, and pallor of his cheeks, and they knew the battle, though obviously won, had gone hard. Magnus, though, didn't care. He saw the Cup, clutched in Isabelle's hand and reached for it, but she snatched it back, meeting his hungry, upturned eyes with her dark brown.

"Jace and Clary paid the ultimate price for this Cup, Magnus," she said in a soft, dangerous voice, "I hope you understand what this means to me."

Magnus's hand dropped as the full horror of what she said hit him, but he cleared his throat and took Isabelle's shoulder in a firm, warm grip. "Isabelle, I swear to you, that we will avenge Jace and Clary. I will help you avenge them."

Isabelle had given Magnus the Cup, he had ordered them to bed, and then vanished. A day later, when Isabelle woke up, Alec was gone, she had stumbled about aimlessly until Jocelyn threw open the door to the house. Not long after, Isabelle had been dragged along to the kitchen where Jocelyn had confronted her.

Now, Isabelle looked up, and she felt words surging up, and like a breath of air, they slipped out. "We just wanted to help."

Luke's face registered his shock, as he didn't think Isabelle would have replied at all. "You-you wanted to help what? Did you four go to kill Jonathan?"

Magnus didn't tell them, Isabelle realized, and she immediately knew that Magnus didn't admit to helping them escape. You can't let them know he went directly against the Clave's orders. "No, we went after the Cup."

"The Cup?" Jocelyn rasped, and her eyes were boring into Isabelle. "You went to Idris, risked your lives, all for the Cup?"

"With the Cup we can make an army to rival Jonathan's," Isabelle said quickly. "We can start changing humans into shadowhunters. This was the only option-"

"It was not the only option!" Jocelyn snapped back. "And it wasn't a decision for you four to make. You went on some wild goose chase and look where it's gotten us: Clary and Jace are in Jonathan's clutches."

Isabelle shook her head frantically, her eyes gleaming with a small sense of hope. "But, we found the Cup."

"What?" Luke said again, and his eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. "You found the Cup?"

"It was in Jonathan's rooms," Isabelle shrugged. "I found it, but when we tried to leave it triggered an alarm and we were set upon by demons. Clary forced us to go." Isabelle looked to Jocelyn now. "I was already in the servants' stair and Clary was right behind me, Alec and Jace holding them off, but then Clary pushed Alec in and locked the door with a rune. We couldn't go back."

"Why?" Jocelyn asked, her face registering all the hurt a mother felt at the betrayal of her daughter. "Why would she stay behind?"

Isabelle didn't want to say it, but Luke's eyes were already narrowed with understanding, and if she didn't, Jocelyn would figure it out on her own. "Jace…" she murmured. "Jace was holding off all the demons, and Clary didn't want to leave him. She knew that if she didn't stay to protect him Jonathan would have him killed. She stayed to defend him." Isabelle dropped her face again. "She stayed because she loved him."

Jocelyn turned away from Isabelle's resting her cheek against Luke's side; he rubbed her back comfortingly. "So," said Luke, "you said the Cup was retrieved? Then where is it?"

"I gave it to Magnus two days ago. I can only assume he's taken it to the Clave so it can be used." Isabelle watched another tear sliver down Jocelyn's cheek. "Clary wanted to find the Cup, she said it was the only way we could stop Jonathan. This was her plan, her dream, and that's why she wanted to see this through. I wanted to stay and help her, but she wouldn't let me. I figured…" Isabelle knew her words weren't helping Jocelyn. "I figured it was the only way I could honor hers and Jace's sacrifice. I brought the Cup back for them."

Luke and Jocelyn were silent for a time, considering this huge development. On the one hand, they certainly did have an enormous advantage over Jonathan now. The Cup would surely be used at once, and they could begin to rebuild their army. The last battle had been a hard one, and many lives had been lost; they had won, but the next few months would go hard for them without reinforcements. However, the loss of Clary and Jace was like a hole in their hearts. Jocelyn felt another few tears threaten to fall, but she pushed them back. She had cried enough that day.

"Did you see Jonathan?" Jocelyn asked, unable to help herself.

"No," Isabelle shook her head. "I saw some of his demons, but he must have been a long way off. I'm so sorry, Jocelyn."

"I am too," she said, and met Luke's eyes. "If Magnus took the Cup to the Clave, we'll be summoned shortly. What do we tell them?"

"I don't see how we have a choice," Luke said gently. "They're going to wonder how we got the Cup, and since we were all seen in the battle, you're going to have to tell them Jace and Clary went."

"Do we tell them they-they didn't come back?"

Luke bit his lip. "We'll have to. If not, the Clave would ask to speak to them, to interrogate them over the state of Idris."

"They can speak to me," said Isabelle, sounding braver than she felt. Jocelyn and Luke looked up at her, confusion written across their faces. "I rode through Idris, and I saw…things. Something has happened to the people of Idris, something bad. I'll tell them what I saw."

"They won't be interested in the word of a seventeen year old human," Luke said with a sad smile.

"Then they'll be interested in the word of a just-turned seventeen year old shadowhunter, won't they?" Isabelle said sharply, and her eyes glittered like ice. "I left my best friend behind with that thing we're fighting. If I could have fought, if I hadn't been so afraid of the demons, maybe I could have helped. Maybe Clary and Jace would be here if I had fought the demons too. I'm going to make it up to them."

"Isabelle-" Luke began, but Isabelle's hand cut him off.

"I made a vow, Luke," Isabelle said seriously. "While I ran away from that castle-leaving my friends behind-I swore I'd go back and free them. The only way that can happen is if I train to be a shadowhunter."

"I'm not sure they'll allow you." Luke didn't know how to tell Isabelle that they wanted trained men and women.

"Clary already taught me how to fight," Isabelle said swiftly. "I know how to handle myself around a knife."

Luke looked ready to argue the point more, but Jocelyn held up a hand and he fell silent. "We'll take her with us to the Clave, and we'll see what we see. They may want to speak to her, after all, only her and her brother has gone into the castle and survived to tell the tale."

"Clary isn't dead-"

"If she were lucky," said Jocelyn sternly, rising up, "she would be. I think Jonathan has designs for both Clary and Jace, and neither of them much good. All we can do now is act, and act swiftly."

Darkness pressed in, strangling hope and life swiftly and effectively. It seemed to stretch on endlessly like a void and no matter how much she strained, Clary couldn't pierce the dark. She stared out and watched the darkness coil and shift, making hideous shapes that taunted and mocked. She pressed back against the wall of the cell, taking a little comfort in the cold that shocked her to wakefulness, and she drew a deep breath.

"Trouble sleeping?" whispered a voice, slick like oil.

The breath Clary had in her lungs sputtered out like a deflated balloon. Don't listen to it, don't listen to it; don't let it in!

"We're already in, princess, your fear lets us in…"

Be like stone. Be fearless, Clary ordered herself.

"Such fantasies, little princess, such games you play with yourself. But, soon, it'll be his games you play, and what games they are. You remember the games, don't you?"

Clary clamped her eyes shut and tried to reach out to that place in her memories where she was safe. It was fraught with images of Jace holding her, kissing her, whispering in her ear. She saw also Isabelle and Alec and little Max, and she heard their voices, almost like music. She was safe there, protected by her love and happiness.

"You try to hide, but you can't escape your past." The voice was drawing nearer. "You couldn't hide from it then, could you? All those nights he came for you, held you down, touched you, and you just laid there and took it all. Was it a sickness…?"

She remembered the first night she and Jace danced in the court, and she felt that strange stirring of freedom she had never known. Jace was going to protect her, he was going to keep the darkness back. She had danced and danced and feared nothing-

"A disgusting thing you must be, to enjoy the touch of your own brother. You know, secretly, you enjoyed it; you liked the feeling of being wanted, even if it was only for a whore's use. So afraid you were, of being completely unlovable that you allowed your brother his pleasures if just to know someone loved you."

That night she and Jace had first made love. She had unburdened herself on him, and he hadn't flinched away from the truth. He had accepted everything about her completely, told her the one thing she wanted to know: it wasn't her fault. He had forgiven her and, later, taught her to love the way a man and woman were supposed to-

"Your mother fled, left you, abandoned you, and who could blame her? There was nothing special about you, nothing beautiful or charming. She left you in a heartbeat, but not your brother…no, she loved him. She kept a locket of his hair tucked safe in her home. You were something worthless, but your brother was something worth having. He was loved-"

"Stop!" Clary cried in a raspy voice, and she lurched up. "Just stop this!"

"Clary," Jace gasped, jerking awake from his troubled sleep. He grabbed her and pulled her back down by his side before the demons pressed in on them. "Clary, don't answer them, don't acknowledge them, don't let them know you're here."

Clary drew a deep, shuddering breath and pressed her face against Jace's rapidly rising and falling chest. "They said…things, Jace. Things they couldn't know unless-"

"They use your fear against you, Clary," he whispered, hearing the rattling, gasping breaths of demons nearby. "They can sense it, and they use it like a weapon. If you let yourself fear, you let them in."

Clary shuddered and her small hands scrabbled at Jace's shirt. He plucked her hands up and held them against his heart. "How long has it been, Jace?"

"A week, maybe a bit longer; it's hard to tell down here." Jace twisted about to look at the cell around him. There was no light, no window, no nothing to indicate the passage of time. "Sooner or later, he'll come for us."

Instinctively, Clary pushed closer into Jace and he could feel her shaking. "When he comes, Jace-"

"Don't think about it," he said swiftly, sensing where she was going. "Whatever happens, Clary, I'll be here. Besides, I'll always be with you and you with me," Jace added, and he brushed his finger over the rune he and Clary shared.

As if it sensed the presence of its compliment rune, Clary's rune flared to life. Jace lying at her side and staring in her eyes felt a burst of heat and his eyes were blinded for a fraction of a second. He was suddenly caught in an onslaught of memories, Clary's memories. He saw a lone manor house, perched on the top of a hill, grassy lawns sloping down to meet a sandy bank, and then a river. He saw a little girl, her red hair let loose, flying about as she ran, being chased by a young boy with white blond hair; the girl screamed in terror and excitement as the boy caught the hem of her dress and tugged her into the tall grass. He saw a tree, standing alone in the middle of a field of flowers.

Jace gasped, tearing himself out of the visions. That's what it means to be bound completely, he thought tiredly, to know all there is to know, to see all there is to see.

"What's wrong?" Clary asked, watching the play of emotions across Jace's face. "What is it?"

"It's you, Clary," he chuckled a bit. "It's always you."

"I'm sorry," Clary whispered. "I'm sorry for what I did-"

"Sorry?" Jace rasped, his face showing every bit of surprise he felt. "How could you be sorry? You saved my life, Clary."

It was true that Clary had, for all intents and purposes, saved Jace's life. When Jonathan had arrived on the scene of their daring escape, Clary had stood before Jace fearlessly. He had slumped to the ground, overcome with the power of the rune and the emotions and memories washing over him. Jonathan had looked them over, eyeing the matching runes on Clary and Jace, and frowned.

"Welcome home, little sister, I've been waiting for you," he had said, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes.

Clary lifted her chin and drew herself up to her full height, short as it was. "Jonathan."

This seemed to have amused him, because his lip quirked up. "I must admit, Clarissa, you've led me on quite a hunt. Sent away from home into the wild, and then you give us all the slip and run off with a slave boy. It's very scandalous, you know."

Flushing, Clary said, "Jace isn't a slave."

"I beg to differ," Jonathan said with a sneer. His eyes moved to Jace, now crouched behind Clary, glaring with all the strength he could muster. "Why, look at him, kneeling before his king; if that's not the mark of a slave, I don't know what is."

"You're not king," Jace had spat.

Jonathan's eyes glimmered furiously. "And you're hardly worth the breath you draw. Luckily, I'll soon end that as well." And he drew a short, wicked sharp dagger from his belt. He drew a step closer to Clary and waved it back and forth before her eyes. "Brave of you to return, Clary, and seek my mercy, but foolish to bring Jace with you. You should have known I'd kill him."

Clary, feeling much braver than she felt, slapped the knife out of her face. "You'll do no such thing. I've bound myself to Jace, my soul to his; any hurt you do him, I suffer too. If you kill Jace, I'll die with him."

"Liar," breathed Jonathan, and his face suddenly turned very ugly, covered in shadows. "There is no such rune."

"I've made one," Clary hissed back, and she drew a bit more courage from Jace. "Did you really think I would return with Jace without protecting him? I knew that if we were caught you would seek to kill him. Did you think I would sacrifice the man I love?"

Jonathan moved quick as silver, grabbing Jace's wrist and tugging him to his feet. Clary gave a furious cry and lunged and Jace fought back fiercely. However, Jonathan's court of demons moved in, hissing and spitting, and a few reached out to help Jonathan restrain them. Clary felt clawed hands wrap about her shoulders and arms, and Jace felt his legs wrapped in the horrible, grasping fingers of the living dead.

"My loyal followers," Jonathan said absently, his attention of Jace's rune.

His eyes raked the marked, going from Jace's to Clary's and back again. He poked it experimentally, as if it might burn him. When it didn't react, he withdrew a stele and flicked the edge over the rune; it remained unchanged. Furious, he dug his fingers into Jace's arm, eliciting a gasp from Clary. Her rune had suddenly flared up, flashing like a bolt of lightening, before dying back down. Jonathan bared his teeth in a snarl.

"I'll find a way around it," he promised to Clary, tossing Jace aside as if he didn't matter. "I swear it, Clarissa, I'll find a way to separate you two, and when I do, I'll have his throat."

"Never," Clary said through clenched teeth.

Jonathan took Clary's chin in his fingers, his grip painfully tight. "Be that as it may, I still have you, and there is still much I can do to your little lover. As much as it pains me to harm you, I fear I will have no choice. You've not been a very good girl, Clarissa."

Clary jerked her chin away. "I'm not your girl."

"Oh, but you are," Jonathan said softly back. "You've had your fun, but now you've come home to take up the place you've been groomed for all your life. Good of you, really."

Clary tugged mercilessly on the grasp of the demons, but she held fast. "Go to hell, Jonathan! I came back for-" Clary cut off sharply, realizing that Jonathan didn't know they'd taken the Cup. The longer he didn't know, the more time Isabelle and Alec had to escape. "-for your head."

Now, Jonathan smiled. "That went well, didn't it?"

"Perfectly according to plan," Clary said, matching Jonathan's smile with one of her own.

Something about her smug voice put Jonathan on edge, and he released his hold on her. His dark eyes surveyed both Jace and Clary, and a strange light came into his eyes; it was hungry and furious at once, like a starved animal. "Get them out of my sight! Take them down to the cellar and leave them in the care of our good comrades. Perhaps a week or so in the dark will take the edge off my dear sister's words, yes?" The demons hissed and cheered, their mouths opening wide like a snakes unhinging their jaws. Clary recoiled until she felt Jace behind her, and he wrapped an arm about her waist. Jonathan saw the movement and turned sharply toward the nearest demon. "NOW!"

The cheering stopped and a few demons came forward, snatching Clary and Jace up and dragging them out of Jonathan's sight. Shortly, after a bumpy escort, Jace and Clary were faced with the imposing darkness of the cellar. Clary, surrendering momentarily to fear, looked back, wondering if Jonathan were there, but he had gone. She and Jace had no choice. The hissing and snarling grew to a shriek and Clary and Jace were herded unceremoniously down to the cellar and tossed into a cell to await Jonathan's mercy.

"I brought you here," Clary whispered, and she glanced about as if expecting to see Jonathan emerge from the dark. "I brought you back into Jonathan's power, his mercy, as it were."

Jace chuckled darkly at the idea of Jonathan's mercy. "I'd rather be here in the dark with you, than alone in the sunlight. Besides, I'm not going to leave you in Jonathan's care."

"Isn't it the job of the brother to be skeptical of the husband?" asked a smooth, polite voice. A gasp escaped Clary's throat and Jace pulled her into the circle of his arms. Jonathan laughed softly. "Happy to see me, sister?"

Jace sat up, holding Clary against him. "We were just hoping you'd forget us down here."

Jonathan drew up to their cell and the frail light hit his face; he looked like he were made of all sharp planes and angles. "I could certainly forget you."

Clary sputtered and finally found her voice. "You'll do nothing of the sort; not while Jace and I are bound together."

"So you keep reminding me," Jonathan growled, sounding annoyed. "It's of little consequence, I'm more than happy to share."

Clary swallowed loudly and Jace sensed her mounting fear and disgust. "Unfortunately, I'm not. Why have you come?"

"What, I'm not allowed to visit my little sister and brother?" Jonathan smiled innocently. "I've come to see if you two are ready to behave yourselves and rejoin my court, or, if you'd prefer to sulk about in the dark."

Jace wanted to tell Jonathan off, but he and Clary were at risk of the shadow sickness again, and he already felt the shaking and fever coming on him. "It seems that no matter where we go, we'd be in the dark," said Jace evenly.

Jonathan shrugged. "If you'd rather stay down here-"

"Jonathan, stop this!" Clary snapped, and Jace was relieved because he knew it was going to take an effort to unbend his will enough to beg. "You know we can't stay down here much longer; you know what the shadow sickness is."

"Oh, that," Jonathan sneered. "A weakness of entirely your kind. How helpless you are in the face of the dark."

"Leave us down here then," Clary said sharply. "But it'll be you and yours who tend to us when you finally do decide to remove us."

"You're hardly in a place to bargain, Clarissa," Jonathan growled, but he wasn't in the mood to play nursemaid. "Luckily for the both of you, I've set aside the evening for diplomatic conversation; you two will be dining with me tonight." Clary relaxed just a little against Jace when Jonathan said you two. Jonathan cleared his throat, opening the door of their cell. "Hurry along now, shadowhunters, it'll take hours just to clean the filth off, and I can't abide anything rank."

Jace felt the last comment was directed at him, and, indeed, when he looked up, Jonathan's dark gaze was fixed on him. Whatever else he was, Jace was currently trapped in a very tight spot, and he wasn't sure if it wouldn't end with him right back where he'd started in Idris: Clary's pet slave and Jonathan's outlet.