This is my first attempt at a Shadowhunter fanfiction. Please let me know what you'd like to read, and if it's any good! Thank you all for reading my stories! - Brielle
I do not own Shadowhunters or the Mortal Instruments. All rights belong to Cassandra Clare and any other rightful owner.
Clary couldn't quite place the sound that she heard. It was sharp, but then it hollowed out into a deep echo. Groggily, she pulled her arms in under her and pushed up onto her elbows, the blood rushing from her head, causing extreme lightheadedness. Clary looked around through the dim light, and she realized that the sounds she was hearing were water drops dripping into a small puddle on the concrete a few feet away. She hissed at the stinging on her temple, and she reached up only to see that her wrists were chained. The clanking of the chain links was muffled. In fact, everything sounded as if it was being put through a filter before reaching her ears.
"Oh my God," she squeezed her eyes shut, a hand pressing against the side of her throbbing head. After the wave of pain passed, she opened her eyes and studied the rest of her body for injuries. There were bruises and scrapes all along her arms, but none were of pressing concern. Clary looked down at herself, taking in her appearance. She was still wearing her black boots, black skinny jeans, and blue t shirt, but the shirt was soiled and torn, and her leather jacket was nowhere to be found. Clary stood, granted unsteadily, but she got up and started towards the door. Her cuffs bit at her wrists when they caught and wouldn't let her move any farther. She was tethered to the far side of the wall, and there was no way she would be able to yank the base out of the stone.
"Jace!" Clary tried calling out, but her voice was hoarse from lack of use. She cleared her throat and tried again, and she managed a decent volume. "Jace!"
"Oh, my dear Clarissa," a voice said. It wasn't Jace. Clary knew this slimy voice, and rage began to bubble in her. Jonathan's face appeared on the other side of the slot in the door, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Jace isn't coming to your rescue, little sister. It's just you and me now."
Clary glared at him. "No," she growled. "You're wrong. He'll come. I bet he's on his way right now."
"Are you willing to lose that bet, dear sister?" Jonathan asked, tilting his head.
Clary figured Jace would have found out by now that she was missing, and he would be tearing the Clave apart to get a search team out, but a small part of her—a very small part—doubted if Jace would find her. She had no idea where she was because there were no windows in the room, so she didn't even know what time of day it was.
"Did you hear me, Clarissa?" Jonathan asked through the slit.
"He'll come," Clary said, but even she thought she didn't sound convinced.
"Oh, I highly doubt that," Jonathan chuckled and a chill crawled down Clary's spine. "Because it's quite difficult to find a person when they're not even on the same continent as you anymore."
Clary's stomach dropped, and she could feel the blood drain from her face. "What?" she tried to sound unaffected by the news, but her voice squeaked slightly.
Jonathan laughed loudly. Clary heard the creak of the wooden door as it was opened, and light flooded the small room, blinding her. Jonathan took two big steps into the room, and Clary shrunk back, trying to focus her eyesight. "I thought I'd take you to the one place you've always wanted to go," he said, a twinkled in his dark eyes. "The countryside of Paris."
Clary shook her head. "No. You're lying."
"Lying?" Jonathan chuckled. "Why would I lie to you, my own flesh and blood?"
"Because you're a monster," Clary hissed, backing away even more.
"Now, now, Clarissa," Jonathan cooed, twisting Clary's red hair around his finger. "I'm sure if there had been a doctor there at my birth, he would have said: 'Congratulations, it's a boy.'" Jonathan smirked coolly.
"Congratulations, it's an asshole," Clary snapped sarcastically, tugging at her chains, but she couldn't move any farther from the wall.
Jonathan's eyes darkened. "I'm trying to be nice," he said, pointing a finger at her. "However, you're not making it easy for me. As long as you behave, you'll keep receiving the company of your brother, but if not…" Jonathan faded. "you'll unfortunately have to deal with the monster."
Clary swallowed, but she kept her face as neutral as possible. If she showed any signs of weakness or fear, Jonathan wouldn't hesitate at the opportunity to use it against her. She glanced around the small room. If they were in the countryside of France, then that meant they were probably in some sort of cottage, and the only place she could think of that wouldn't have any windows in a cottage, would be a storage pantry. Jonathan's eyes caught hers and he seemed to have read her mind instantaneously.
"We're in a small cottage," he said. "I cleared out the pantry because this was the only room with stone walls sturdy enough to hold back your fiery spirit," he placed two fingers under her chin and shook her head back and forth like he was cooing over a puppy.
Clary yanked her face out of Jonathan's grasp. "Don't touch me," she snarled, sinking back into the shadows.
Jonathan's face seemed to set into stone. His eyes narrowed, and the calm, almost caring brother evaporated into the heartless killer Clary knew all too well. "I would suggest you be careful how you speak to your brother, Clarissa," he growled.
"Screw you!" she shouted, her voice high pitched.
Jonathan leapt at her, swifter than Clary could almost process. He was in front of her in an instant. He grabbed her by the throat, lifting her entire body off the ground several inches. She couldn't breathe, and she couldn't fight his inhuman strength. He reached behind him and pulled out his stele, and he moved his hand just enough to leave a section of Clary's neck exposed. In several swift, swooping motions, he burned a rune into Clary's skin, and she immediately started screaming in pain. Jonathan dropped her to the ground, leaving her to thrash and twist upon the concrete.
"What—" Clary's voice was strangled by the lack of air in her lungs. She screamed again, clawing at her neck, trying to ruin the shape of the rune to dull its power. "What did you do?" she gasped, her eyes wild.
"The agony rune," Jonathan grinned devilishly. "I'm sure you've heard of it. However, it is frowned upon in the Shadowhunter community to use it on other Shadowhunters." He looked down at his fingers, shrugging nonchalantly.
"You—" Clary gasped. "You're not a Shadowhunter."
Jonathan tsked, bending down to stare Clary in the face. "Oh, my poor, dear, little sister," he said softly, innocently, but his expression hardened a split second later. "You have no idea what I am."
Clary held her breath, but another wave of agonizing pain flashed through the rune and into her body, and another shriek escaped her lips. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth were clenched together, and her body was so tense that it shook.
"You know, Clarissa," Jonathan sighed. "We're more alike than you'd care to believe."
At the sound of his voice, Clary opened her eyes and peeked up at Jonathan, hatred boiling in her blood. "I hate you," she growled through gritted teeth. "I hate you." She expected her words to send Jonathan into another tizzy, but instead, he leaned closer.
"Yes," Jonathan smiled, sighing longingly. "So much alike."
