Chapter Two

The Safe House, Florida, USA

Clary wasn't sure how long she was in darkness for. In the black of the basement, surrounded by wet, she slept at strange times, often unsure if she was awake or asleep. The room looked the same when her eyes were open as when they weren't. She wasn't dreaming or have visions. Her hearing spiked at random intervals, but all she heard was her mother pacing upstairs, the draw of a zipper, the haptic of phone keys. Once, she swore she heard a car pull away, and jumped up, stumbled up the stairs, and pounded against the door until her shoulder was bruised and her fingers bled. There was a tiny strip of light under the door, but all she could see through it was the thick pile of a shag rug that hadn't been there when she'd gotten out, or when she'd lived there with Jared.

The only thing in the room with her was the mattress and a tiny bathroom tucked under the stairs—just a toilet and sink with no light, a toilet paper roll on the tank, the lid of which didn't come off. It didn't have a door, but it wasn't like anyone could see her. Aside from that, it was just the stairs with the door at the top.

She never saw or heard the door open, but sometimes when she woke, there was a bag of food next to her on the damp mattress. It was always the same thing—a zip-lock bagged sandwich, a granola bar, an apple, and a bottle of water. After eating, Clary put the trash back in the bag—not because she was being nice, but because she didn't want the trash on the bed or sticking to her skin. Sleeping on the bed was bad enough.

Unlike last time, she didn't bother trying to count how long she was there. How could she? There was no way to tell the passage of time. The light at the door was always the same when she saw it, not moving with the sun. The temperature of the room never changed. It could have been a few days or a few months. Who knew?

But this time was very different. She knew where she was, that she was a prisoner. She knew that the darkness was a punishment, as well as an attempt to weaken her resolve. She also knew what her mother wanted—which was for Clary to join her. Jocelyn wanted, more than anything, was for her perfect result to join her side and help her win. Though the woman would probably never have admitted it, she knew her daughter's loyalty would also gain her the trust of Jonathan.

Clary knew that her mother wanted to 'fix' her brother, make him perfect like she though Clary was. Since it had been so long since having Jonathan with them was possible, Jocelyn had never discussed him with Clary, so she didn't know what she had planned for him, let alone if it was possible to make him different. Maybe Jocelyn planned to kill him, keep her failed attempts from getting away and causing trouble, like an animal loose at the zoo.

The Clave wouldn't let that happen though. Jonathan was one of the best young Shadowhunters, right in their line of sight alone with people like Jace Lightwood and, of course, Clary herself.

That was different too. Unlike the last time she'd been trapped in this place, Clary had someone looking for her—not just anyone, but the whole Clave. Before, it had just been her father and brother. Now, every Shadowhunter in the world had their eyes peeled. How could they not? Jocelyn was a danger to everyone and everything, and they knew that. They'd had her right under their noses and she'd managed to get away. She'd stayed hidden from them for years and they'd known nothing of where they were—they'd been moving around too, which had made things hard. But they'd been in the same place for a while now. Clary had told the Counsil and her father about the safe house and where it was, so really it was only a matter of time before they came to her rescue. The only reason she could think of as to why they hadn't come yet was because they were preparing something awesome to make sure Jocelyn couldn't get away this time.

The runes on her skin didn't matter if they knew where to look.

As time passed, Clary's faith wavered. She was alone, wet, cold, and blind. Reminding herself that the Clave would come at any moment made her feel less and less better. Even thinking that this was Jocelyn's plan didn't stop the cold hopelessness from touching her. Of course, she still had no desire to stand by her mothers' side, but that resolve didn't change anything.

What if they Clave didn't think she was worth saving? Or worse—what if they still didn't really believe what her mother was? Convincing them had been nearly impossible, even with people like Tessa coming forward with their own stories. Clary had been able to give the Clave a list of people she'd seen over the years, the ones who'd acted like her mother had been dead or something, and even when they'd told their ends, the Clave had been less than inclined to believe it. It was incredibly likely that they still didn't, and had called off the search for her.

Clary jumped to her feet as another thought occurred to her: what if they thought she was in league with Jocelyn? That she part of it? In on the evil?

She shook her self and fell to her knees trying to get the thought out of her head.

There's no way, she told herself, mouthing the words silently. Not after everything they've heard. They knew I'm not with her. I was kidnapped. They know that.

No longer caring about how wet everything was, she fell sideways on the hard ground and lay still for a long time. A puddle circled her arm, but she didn't care.

Closing her eyes against the identical darkness, Clary placed a picture against her lids. Jonathan smiling as he and Simon trained together in the back yard, her dad sitting on the patio with a stack of texts he was translating for the Institute. It had been summer then, and the sun had been shining brightly, warming everything and creating halos around the people she loved. It made her brothers hair look almost golden, brought red in her boyfriends hair, tanned their skin. Clary had been sitting under the tree in the yard, sketching her dad across the yard and drinking her favorite watermelon tea. It had been a perfect day. Though she hadn't had her memories yet and weird things were happening her in mind, she'd been able to let that all fall away for a while. That afternoon, she and Simon had gone to a movie after dinner and had lay awake in his bed until they were in danger of seeing the sunrise.

Suddenly, light flooded her eyes, so bright she had to raise her arm to cover her face. The door at the stop of the stairs opened, and steps began descending. Clary scrambled to her feet, stumbling over the bed, falling to a heap in the corner. Her eyes burned. Tears stung her cheeks.

Footsteps paused in front of her, and the mattress dipped slightly. She felt the sting of a rune on her arm.

She opened her eyes.

Jocelyn knelt on the edge of the bed, looking nothing like Clary had ever seen her. Her hair was straightened and hanging loose over her shoulders, skin for once completely clear of paint, dressed in what looked like slacks and a blouse. She'd never seen her mother out of jeans—save for when she'd favored gear before.

"It's just an iratze," the woman whispered, leaning back on her heels. The mattress left oblong imprints of moisture on her pants. "But I'm not afraid to bind you if you disobey me. Do you understand?"

Clary clenched her jaw, not looking her in the eye. But she nodded.

"Good. We need to leave this place. It's too dangerous for us now. You will come upstairs and clean yourself. If you run, things will only be worse for you."

"Just leave me," she growled. "Let me die here."

Jocelyn laughed. "Oh, Clary, why would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you? You left me down here in the dark. It wouldn't take long once you're gone."

She sighed. "So dramatic. You know why you're here, Clary. Now, your punishment is done, and it's time to leave. You can either do this the easy way or the hard way."

After a few moments of silence, Jocelyn stood and turned around, heading for the stairs. "You won't be able to leave, but if you decide to be a good girl, you may come upstairs and clean yourself up. If not, I'll be back in an hour, and you won't like it when that happens." Within seconds, she was up the stairs and out of sight, leaving the door open and light on behind her.

Immediately, Clary began counting the seconds.

She thinks I'm weak, she mentally scoffed. That time in the dark has made me weak enough to do what she wants.

One minute.

She's wrong. I'm still strong. I'm strong enough to say no, to think for myself. Maybe she knows that and she's just trying to tempt me. Tempt me and make me want what she wants. A hot shower does sound nice—but not nice enough to break me.

Five minutes.

If we leave the safe house, the Clave won't know where to look for me. But if we stay, I'll be in a dark basement for who knows how long. If I don't go with her willingly though…

Ten minutes.

The Clave doesn't even believe that she's evil though! They've made it very clear that they've never believed me. The only reason they gave me the time of day is because they know my father. The Morgensterns have always been a powerful Shadowhunter family. That's the only reason they ever heard me. It wouldn't make a difference to them if it were someone else. Jocelyn could blow up the Accords Hall or something, like Cersei in Game of Thrones, and they still wouldn't think she was evil!

Fifteen minutes.

But what if I could stop her on my own? I know how she thinks. I know what she wants. I know what she expects. I can play her like she played me, get information and details from her, play my part as the hesitant but devoted daughter…It's all she's ever wanted from me, and I could make her believe it. I could make her believe that the punishment of the basement and the darkness and isolation really did a number on me. Faked Stockholm Syndrome! And by her side, I could do damage control! I could keep her from actually hurting people. I could leave a trail for Dad and Jonathan and Simon to follow. Gain her trust, and then destroy her—like in Game of Thrones!

Twenty minutes.

Clary stood up slowly and stepped off the mattress, pausing a moment to steady herself. She couldn't believe how stupid and yet amazing her plan was. Tricking her mother into believing she'd won… It wouldn't be easy, but she didn't care. It was her way out. All she had to do was get her mother to trust her.

She made her way up the stairs and into the hallway, looking around cautiously before making her way across the house. On the way to the one bathroom, she passed through the living room where Jocelyn was carefully placing things into a suitcase. Apparently, she hadn't bothered with a bedroom and had made herself comfortable on the couch. There was even the potted Aloe Vera on the windowsill that they'd always carried with them.

"Your things are in the bathroom," she said casually. "Just pack them up when your done."

"Where are we going?"

Jocelyn looked up at her for a moment before straightening. "We'll be moving around."

She didn't say anything in response, just nodded and turned to head for the bathroom. Too many questions, seeming too eager…it would be suspicious. She'd done well though, she knew. She'd seen Jocelyn's small smile as she turned away.