*Jonathan*
Jonathan never begs for anything. He still burns with the scars of that lesson. But he is begging now, begging for a child's toy, of all things.
It is a snow-white bear, a plush, well-made thing, with eyes that seem to shine as if it were living and a sewn golden nose. But best of all, wrapped around its neck is a silk ribbon the color of emerald, the color of the richest leaves on the trees in the summer…the exact shade of Clary's eyes. Whenever he sees it, it is like he is seeing her, right next to him. She would love it, and that is why he must have it.
"You want a...stuffed bear?" Valentine asks, his eyes narrowed to obsidian slits. They are in France, but they have not come to see the things that attract so many hordes of tourists. Valentine needs to consult with the High Warlock of Paris, and he brought Jonathan along to give him the experience he will need for the future. A decision he must be sorely regretting now.
Jonathan shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant. "It would make us seem less suspicious, if we went in and bought a stuffed toy. You might not realize it, but right now, we look like terrorists. The police must have taken notice by now." He makes a point of ruffling his heavy black cloak, the matching pair to Valentine's. They are strategically draped over each of them to avoid any of their features being seen. Jonathan does not need it as much as Valentine does. His father's face is widely known-and feared-throughout Downworld.
Valentine laughs. "What do you care of the mortal police? You are strong enough to take them all down, even at your tender age."
Strong enough to take you down. Jonathan thinks the words, but does not say them aloud. He knows that Valentine is thinking the same thing. Valentine knows that by feeding his wife demon blood when she was pregnant with their son, he has created something stronger than him. And he knows that one day, he will pay the horrible price.
"No," Valentine continues. "I don't think that is your motive, boy. But perhaps your sister is. Perhaps she could be the reason behind this foolish request." He laughs. "You are a sick, twisted thing. Do not try to trick yourself into believing otherwise. You do not care for her, nor does she for you. When will you learn these things?"
Without giving Jonathan a chance to respond, Valentine strides off, expecting his son to follow. Gritting his teeth, Jonathan does. But this is not over. He will get that bear for Clary, even if by the end of this, its silky white fur is stained red.
Les Merveilles de Demain. The Wonders of Tomorrow. The painted red letters were barely visible in the night, even with Jonathan's enhanced eyes, even with the city lights of Paris flashing all around him. People bustle past him, and he steps out of the throng, confident that he has correctly retraced his steps. The city is still clearly alive, but the store is closed, providing a stubborn contrast to the enticing shops that sandwich either side of it. He could see the white bear behind the glass window display, its fur almost luminescent against the shadowed background of the store. It occurred to him that he could just break the glass and be gone from the place within a few seconds, but he felt that would be too brash. Valentine would know about it almost immediately if he caused a commotion such as that, and Jonathan shivers at the thought of Valentine ever discovering what he was about to do.
So, he needs to get in to the store silently and stealthily. But the door is locked, and attempting to pick it would bring too much attention to himself.
The door is made of weathered wood, with a lopsided CLOSED sign hanging off of the worn brass doorknob. There is a large window in the door, but green and pink striped curtains are drawn over it, blocking any view inside. Jonathan studies the curtains. He is almost certain that they are moving, rustling as if there were a breeze inside the shop.
Jonathan walks to the glass display containing the bear and peers in, trying to see the shop beyond the various children's toys. Yes, there it is—he can just make out a glowing strip of light on the opposite end of the shop, moonlight filtering in to glow on the carpeted floor: a window left ajar. Perfect.
He goes around to the back of the shop, slipping through the small area of space between the shop and its neighbor. He has always hated small spaces, and he has to focus on even breaths whilst traversing the narrow gap. I will not be claustrophobic. I will not be claustrophobic.
The shops are nowhere near as showy from the back. It is evident that the places that the people do not see are rarely, if ever, cleaned. Jonathan's nose wrinkles in mild disgust as a rat scurries by him, disappearing into a rain gutter. He cranes his head up to the sky, illuminating his face in the moonlight. Breathes the rancid air, in and out. Tries not to think about Valentine, what he would do if he could see Jonathan right now.
The ajar window creaks, and catches his attention immediately, snapping him back to the present. A gentle breeze has picked up, and now the window groans as it sways further open. Jonathan looks in, but he can see little more than from before. He shrugs nonchalantly, but an uneasy feeling plagues him, and he grips the hilt of Heosphoros. He's never much liked the thing; Phaesphoros is the sword he wants, the sword he vowed to himself to kill Valentine with. That seems a fitting death for the man, somehow: killed by his blood, bearing his blade. Jonathan grins briefly at the thought, then shakes his head of the idea. He will savor the thought later. Right now, he needs to focus.
Jonathan leaps into the store with the lithe grace of a cat, without so much as brushing the window. As soon as his boot-clad feet hit the floor, he moves swiftly towards the bear. Get it and go.
He reaches for it, and right as the tip of his finger is about to brush the satiny emerald ribbon, a human hand, clearly feminine, reaches out from the darkness and grabs him, wrapping around his wrist in an iron-like grip.
But if this being is iron, then he is steel; he rips his hand free easily, and within a second wields Heosphoros, bracing it against the darkness. It would be foolish to swipe blindly; that would give the thing the advantage. His only option is to speak.
"Show yourself." He says. "I, Jonathan Morgenstern, son of Lilith, command you to show yourself."
A woman emerges from the shadows, palms out to face him. She looks to be in her fifties or sixties: thick, wire-rimmed spectacles propped on a beak-like nose, wrinkles stretching as the corners of her lipsticked mouth tilt up in a toothy smile. Her eyes shine a bright blue from below painted black eyelashes. That's odd. Usually, Eidolons' human forms have black, void-like eyes.
"I'm sorry, young man, I didn't mean to startle you. I am the shopkeeper. Now, would you be ever so kind as to put that sword aw—"
Her mindless chatter is interrupted by an expulsion of air as Heosphoros penetrates her chest, and blood rises up to clog her throat and bubble at her lips. Jonathan waits patiently for its human form to fade into a writhing demon and then fold up back to its realm, but nothing happens. There is so much blood, and it doesn't stop.
She must have been a human, then. Jonathan calmly extracts Heosphoros from the woman's still-twitching body, cleans it off on her shirt, and sheathes it. Then, he grabs the bear from the shelf, shoving it in his pack. There is a thin streak of blood on the bear's back, and Jonathan curses himself for being so careless. Now, he will have to come up with a lie to tell Clary, and he dislikes having to lie to her.
When Jonathan is ready to leave, he turns back to the woman's body. He will have to get rid of it somehow, lest it be all over the news tomorrow. Which is easy enough.
Jonathan sees it on the screen the next day, as Valentine is preparing for them to Portal back to the valley. "FREAK FLAME ACCIDENT LEVELS SHOP AND KILLS SHOPOWNER. WITNESSES SAY MAN IN BLACK LEATHER WAS SEEN EXITING CLOSED SHOP AT TIME OF DISASTER."
Jonathan curses silently. He was evidently not as careful as he'd thought he'd been. But fortunately, Valentine is on the phone and doesn't seem to be paying attention to the little TV. Jonathan smiles in relief, just a small twist of the lips. He has gotten away with it.
Clary loves the bear, calls him Scar because of the bloody stripe down his back. Jonathan lets her have it, on the one condition that she hide it from Valentine at all costs. She does not question this; she seems to know without asking that Jonathan acquired it very much against their father's wishes. Only when Valentine has gone on one of his excursions without the two of them does she ever take it out, play with it. But as careful as she is, Jonathan knows that Valentine will inevitably discover Scar. He knows that when he does, Valentine will break Clary's heart, and when her heart heals, she will hate Valentine just a little bit more, grow just a little more close to Jonathan instead. Eventually, she will choose Jonathan over Valentine, and when she does, Jonathan will act. He will get them both out of this hell.
Reflecting on this, he supposes that in this way, he did not get the bear only for Clary; he partly got it for himself.