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I really enjoyed writing this chapter, hope you enjoyed reading it as much x
Brooklyn, New York – 1.30 pm
Sobs wracked her body as she sat on the floor her head in her arms.
WEAK! Screamed a voice in her mind, which sounded remarkably like Valentine's. You are weak! The demon has beaten you!
Clary was used to the voices in her head by now, they had developed properly when Johnathan had left her alone in that infernal basement with no one to talk to, no window to see out of and only own terrible thoughts for company.
The real you is gone! This voice was worse, so much worse, because it spoke in Simon's ever so familiar voice. The real Clary would not have been beaten so easily, you are nothing more than a shell!
The tears had stopped flowing now, even though her face was still wet. Only the dry heaving sobs were left.
He can't be back! He was dead. Definitely dead. I saw it. I did it.
Ah. Countered a different voice simply. But he's been dead before, hasn't he?
She propped her chin upon her arms, which were wrapped around her knees, and blinked through the fresh waves of terrified tears.
The room around her was burn orange, a colour meant to symbolise her childhood room in an vain attempt to bring some normality into her life.
Ha! The voice that sounded so much like Jocelyn's laughed loudly. Normal? You were never normal. It was a lie! Normality has the cotton wool I wrapped you up in and I was right to wasn't I? You are too weak to handle this life. You are broken!
She wished Jace was here. Not to see her crying obviously, he had seen her do that way too much over the last years, but because his presence was like a talisman to shield her from the voices that threatened to pull her under and drown her in misery.
No sooner had the thought formed in her mind there was the sound of the front door, then the bedroom door opening.
It was not Jace who stood there.
It was Johnathan.
He stood there looking much the same as he had done the last time Clary had seen him. The same pale white hair, the same sharp features, even the same self-satisfied smirk that seem to be permanently etched onto his face.
Although the eyes were back to their usual pitch black, he had a crisp white shirt on which emphasised the darkness of his eyes making them almost gleam in his colourless face.
There was also the absence of the dagger which had been stuck though his heart.
As if he had seen the thought run through her mind he smirked even wider and plucked out the dagger from his weapons belt and held it up for her inspection. It was completely clean.
"How?" Clary heard the words leave her mouth as if a stranger had spoken them, her voice cracked and hoarse from the earlier tears that seemed to have dried up completely. "How have you come back?"
"The bus."
She blinked once.
"Well, not only a bus obviously, but you know, a train and a plane –"
She made and impatient noise and he rolled his eyes.
"Very well then. Always straight to the point aren't you little sister?" His voice was casual but his eyes flashed with dangerous excitement that Clary associated with pain and he was now twirling the dagger between his fingers stalking toward her like a predator who had spotted its prey.
"If you must know I didn't come back at all. You didn't do your job very well."
Clary felt as if he had slapped her and her voice came out low "I did. I felt it go through your heart."
His eyes practically glowed as his malicious grin spread even wider. "As did I. But you didn't use the right blade."
He gave no sign that he moved but Clary felt something speed past her right ear and look around to see the dagger embedded in the wall inches from her head.
Suddenly there was a blast of sound. The words 'That's not my name' reverberated around the room in an otherworldly voice and the windows shook in their frames.
Clary moved to stand up, but he was in front of her in seconds, kneeling down as she was still on the floor.
Johnathan was apparently unworried about the voice and instead said casually "Look at it."
It took her a few seconds to realise what he meant. Not wanting to take her eyes of him when he was this close she ever so slightly turned her head to look at the blade before looking back at him.
"Well?" he asked watching her carefully.
"Well, what?"
He let out an irritable sigh.
"What kind of blade is it?"
She glanced at it again quickly.
"Demon metal?"
"Exactly" he breathed leaning back "Don't you understand?"
When she still looked blank he continued a sense of restless urgency about him.
"You stabbed Jace with Michael's sword. That burned out the demon influence in him. But it didn't kill him because he has more heavens than hells."
She nodded slowly.
"You stabbed me with a dagger made of demon metal. That burned out the angels influence in me. But it didn't kill me because –"
"Because you are more hells than heavens." She finished for him stonily.
He laughed once, the sound was chilling.
She smiled back triumphantly and his smirk slipped slightly in confusion.
"I am not weak. You did not break me."
And with a sudden surge of power she wrenched the dagger from the wall and swung it toward her brother's temple.
At the last moment he grabbed her arm and crushed it against the wall knocking the dagger from her hand and breaking her arm in several places. She did not scream but kicked him hard in the ribs succeeding in moving him away from her.
Standing up Clary pick up what she recognised as Simone's gymnastics baton and hit him as hard as she could around the head, she hit her target and saw blood fly everywhere.
He responded by kicking her hard in the midriff, winding her, and punching her repeatedly in the side if the head until she became disorientated and dropped to the ground once more.
Johnathan bent down and whispered softly "I missed you too little sister. Give Jace a message from me will you. 920. That's all 920."
She heard his footsteps move away from her and the door slam behind him. She heard a final heart wrenching oddly familiar scream rip the air as the darkness overwhelmed all.