I'm sorry this chapter took so long, I got writer's block and just a little distracted, but hey I made up for it, it's really long.
Chapter 9 Sunrise Sunset
The cuff that held Clary hostage was attached to a rod which was attached to the bedroom wall, the very bed room Clary had woke up in. It was not fancy or anything, but it was enough to put her at ease so she could sit up and think straight. Except the damn cuff was so tight it dug into her skin; she had spent half an hour, trying to pull her wrist through the cuff, fifteen minutes trying to squeeze her hand through the cuff, and the last ten minutes cradling her wounded, bloody wrist.
The cuff had a long enough chain she could wander around the room, reach the desk, the bed, the dresser, and the bathroom on the side opposite the barred window; to her inconvenience the window was just beyond her grasp.
So Clary sat on the bed, planning. There was nothing in the room she could use as a weapon; the desk had no pens and no paper, it was obviously just a space filler. The chair for the desk was nailed to the floor, there was just enough space for her to squeeze herself between the desk and chair and sit. The dresser had clothes in it for her, which she had already taken advantage of. There was no door handle on her side of the room, and there was one window, which was barred, tinted, and out of reach.
The bathroom had normal necessities, but nothing that could be used as a weapon. If only toothpaste was Sebastian's kryptonite, then I might stand a chance, Clary thought. That was all she could do, think; until someone showed up to save her, and the only person who knew she was being held captive was currently in hiding. Damn the sun!
Clary could hear footsteps behind the door, then keys rattling, and finally the soft click of the lock. Her first thought was Jace, but he was dead; so her second thought was Raphael, who ironically is also dead, but who she got was Valentine; the first person on her list of enemies and the last person she wanted to see.
"I was wondering when you would show up." He said calmly, his black eyes on Clary. Funny, that was the second time she had heard that in the past forty-eight hours. Apparently, everyone was expecting her. Clary said nothing only glared at him, trying to force all of her hate through her eyes so he would know just how much pain he had caused her. "That's childish, Clary. I'm your father and we both know you are capable of using your words." His voice said he was speaking to an equal, his word choice felt like a slap in the face, demeaning.
"I don't have anything to say to you." Clary said, she sat on the bed legs and arms crossed leaning against the bar, which was awkward with the bar poking the middle of her back.
"I highly doubt that. You mean to say you hid for two weeks, went back to New York City for help, and came back here, planning to destroy my success without saying a word? And with a vampire, none the less." Valentine practically spit the last sentence. Vampire. Downworlder, there was no difference to him, they were all scum. "I'm very disappointed in you, Clary. I had thought your choice in boys was better, although Jonathan did need to grow up a bit." It took Clary a minute to figure out he was talking about Jace, and then it all clicked. She looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror above the desk (which happened to be placed in the wall so she could not break the glass.) and saw her neck, covered in purple and blue bruises that no mundane or Nephilim could ever make. To her disappointment, she felt herself blush.
"When did you realize I was still alive?" Clary asked, looking at the floor, hiding her redden cheeks.
"Not until you showed up here, actually. It was a miscalculation of mine, in all my successful bliss I miss spoke when I wished upon the Angel; but a minor one." Valentine quickly added; Clary had gotten the underlying message: I make mistakes, I'm still human, and he should have just said I'm still mortal.
"So when are you going to kill me?" Clary asked.
"I would prefer not to. You are still my daughter, just led down the wrong path, so to speak. I already have other Nephilim in my service thanks to the cup, and there's always Jonathan." Sebastian, that's who he meant.
"You really think you can wipe out all the downworlders? There's thousands upon thousands. They'll finish you off before you even obliterate one of the races." Clary said, she glanced up at him, he had a faint smile at his lips, kind of like Raphael's, but this one was not playful.
"I have a pretty good head start. The wards will pinpoint any warlock who uses his or her magic, the fey and the vampires are cornered in their nests, and the werewolves are as disorganized as always. I have a five year plan." Valentine said; Clary stared at him blankly.
"You sound like a guy who just set up a savings account." Clary said, there was no humor in her voice, but Valentine gave a short laugh.
"Maybe more of an investment account; but yes, it is similar isn't it?" Clary did not answer. She had a gut feeling she was not supposed to, or it was just that feeling that whatever came out of her mouth would just get her into more trouble.
"I came here to see if there is anything you need or want. There are restrictions though until I can fully trust you, but perhaps there is something." Valentine offered.
"I want my boyfriend back." Clary stated.
"I hope you are referring to Jace, and not that bloodsucker." Valentine sighed, "It was a shame to lose Jonathan, but it was a loss that is minor compared to the goal." He actually sounded sincere, but Clary stopped herself, this was the man who had conned his friends into starting an uprising, then abandoned them when they needed him most.
"Yeah? Well how about all the others? People you grew up with, their kids, their families, my friends, the people who were once your allies? Were they all worth losing as well? Do you regret any of that loss? All because of your selfish, racist views of downworlders." Clary spat the words at him, her temper rising.
"I'm starting to regret the choice to keep you alive." Valentine admitted; his eyes narrowing in distaste. "Perhaps you are already too attached to the downworlders. Perhaps it's already too late for you."
"It's not too late for me; I'll be out of here soon, just like you'll be lying in an unmarked grave soon. That is if there's even a body left." Clary watched as Valentine shook his head, turned, and walked out, leaving her alone.
Clary had fallen asleep again. It was not her fault, the minutes felt like hours, there was no clock, the only way to tell the time was the light outside her window which was now a pale pink that morphed into deep purple, please let that be sunset and not sunrise, Clary begged to no one in particular.
In the end it did not matter no one came to help her.
For the next three days it was the same, someone always brought Clary food and asked if she needed anything. Then Valentine would come in, try and talk some "sense" into her, he even released her from the cuff that held her to the wall, and he offered to let her go outside for an hour or two so she could stretch her legs, guarded of course, Clary always said no.
Eventually her conscious kicked in and convinced her she had to get herself out of here. So the next day when Valentine offered to release her, she complied.
Valentine had pretty much made the home of the clave and council his home. He guided her through the halls and up and down the stairs; the place was bigger than she had initially thought. Her room was actually located where they held prisoners; it had just been made up to look a little different, nicer.
There were not too many guards around, course Valentine did not really take prisoners. So getting out of the room would be the hard part. Getting out of the building itself should be easy even for her. But if I do run into problems, I have nothing to defend myself with. Clary thought, not even a stele this time.
Outside the sun was high, noon probably. Although the city was still beautiful, the initial destruction of the war had been cleared away, it was still hauntingly silent.
Clary returned to her room, and planned, the door only opened from the outside, that was problem number one.
"Can I have some paper and pencils?" Clary asked absently, trying to any hint of her plan.
"You have a liking for drawing if I remember correctly. I believe Jonathan mentioned that before; since you seem to be complying without resistance, yes. I will have someone bring some down to you within the hour." Valentine seemed thoughtful as he said the words, he also seemed confident that she was on his side. All the better for her.
Clary had been sketching away at the paper in front of her for a good two hours, trying to make something that looked professionally done, but her mind was too distracted with fear and adrenaline. This has to go right, Clary thought. Then when she had a pretty good picture of the street she had grown up on, she ripped it a third of the way down the middle.
"Damn it!" She screamed, loud enough to be heard from the other side. She kept up her streak of cussing and yelling until someone came running and promptly threw the door open. To her dismay that person was Sebastian. Clary just stared at him, this was not the person she wanted, the person who brought her food would have been better, even Valentine himself would have been better.
"What happened?" He asked, he sounded bored, but there was a knife in his hand bigger than Clary's forearm that suggested otherwise so she kept her cool.
"I ripped my picture." Clary said innocently; trying to play the incompetent little sister.
"Draw another one." Sebastian said as he turned to leave.
"I can't just draw another one. Do you know how long this took? Art isn't like a copy machine, you can't just make another one, it will always end up a little different." Clary argued. Sebastian stood at the door, his head down and sighed.
"Fine. I'll find some tape." He walked out the door, Clary smiled sweetly.
Sebastian had given the tape to her an hour ago and now the picture hung on the wall, colored with blues and grays which gave it a somber look. She was working on her second masterpiece when the person who brought her food came. Clary tore a piece of the tape off and wrapped it around her thumb.
Clary held the door open for the lady, who was completely shocked and ready to call for back up.
"No, no don't do that. I'm sorry if I scared you, it's just you've been so kind to me, I feel awful for not ever trying to help you before." Clary said, "What's your name?"
"Mary-Ann. The women said, her eyes were still questionable, but she thanked Clary none the less. Clary quickly tapped over the inside of the door so it would not shut right when closed, and by the time Mary-Ann had turned around, Clary was already standing next to her ready to eat.
"Thank you." Clary said as polite as can be. Mary-Ann left without a word. The door shut, but it did not click. Clary would be free as soon as the sun fell.
Clary had decided to sleep her way through the last few hours, trying to get some rest, but instead she lay there, her head spinning with possibilities of tonight. She tried pacing around, but the motion seemed to make her adrenaline worse so she sat down and looked out the window. Her thoughts wandered to Raphael, she had kept thoughts of him at the back of her mind, if the guards never got him then the sun probably did, or his hunger, Clary thought recalling how weak he had looked the last time she saw him. Clary did not want to believe it, he was jerk and an ass, but she still needed his help.
Clary guessed it had to be about two in the morning and most people would be asleep by now. So she tiptoed over to the door as best she could, her boots made the effort pointless though. She edged the door open, and poked her head out; there was one guard at the end of the hall. Clary closed the door and glanced around the room, could she strangle him with a tee-shirt? Probably not. But she had pencils, really sharp pencils.
Clary grabbed a pencil, it would probably break before it did any real harm, but it was something, when she heard a commotion outside, there was fighting, and then another sound to horrific to describe. Clary had to dare herself to look out the door; the guard was on the floor, surrounded in blood, dead. Then Raphael was in her face again. Clary had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming.
"You sure took your sweet time getting here." She whispered, he smiled at her and pushed her back inside the room, closing the door behind him. Clary now took in the sight of him, he did not look weak like the last time she had seen him. He had blood on his shirt, the guards blood no doubt, his fangs were still out and there were traces of blood around his mouth and on his hands. He grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and wiped the blood off the best he could.
"A pencil? That was your defense against enemies, a pencil?" Raphael looked at her incredulously. Clary felt herself blush.
"It's all I had!" her voice rose, defending her pathetic weaponry.
"It's a good thing I didn't get here later then." Raphael said, "Poor guard would have died of a pencil attack." Then Raphael tossed something at her; Clary dropped the pencil to catch it. It was her stele.
"I didn't plan to kill him. And if I did a pencil would have been better than what you did. You drank him dry you- you" Clary could not think of a name harsh enough to describe him right now.
"I wouldn't say that. I'd say about half his blood spilled on the floor when I ripped his throat out." Raphael said it matter of factly, there was not a hint of remorse in his voice.
"Well we better get out of here before more guards show up." Clary said, walking out the door.
"I wouldn't mind seconds." Raphael said, his voice was light but he followed her regardless.
Like Clary had suspected getting out was the easy part. They walked through the halls, and out the front door.
"It cannot be this easy," Clary muttered. She turned towards Raphael, he said nothing, he was too busy looking ahead into the dark.
"There's nobody there." He spoke, but his eyes seemed fixed on something.
"But something else is." Clary finished for him, they were losing precious time standing there, out in the open, and the cold was beginning to dig into her skin.
"I think it's harmless."
"Demons don't look human, and they're not exactly harmless." Clary pointed out, she could not see anything so she was relying on Raphael in this case; so when he walked forward, she followed. "I can make a portal with the stele."
"I bet you anything the wards were repaired after your brother destroyed them. We use that thing for a portal out of here; we'll be dead before we get to the other side." Clary stayed silent after that, walking towards whatever "it" was. As it turned out "it" was not a demon. "It" was Magnus. He was just dressed up in such a way he did not even look human, and from the distance they had originally been, even Raphael could not tell what it was.
"Magnus!" Clary yelled, only to have Raphael wrap his arm around her and cover her mouth with his hand.
"What are you doing here, warlock?" Raphael asked, loosening his grip on Clary.
"Word got out Valentine captured a certain stubborn, short Nephilim. I was going to play rescuer, it seems you beat me to it." He replied, "Although I didn't want to recognizable to foes so I used a spell to alter others' view of me. Someone knocked the wards out in New York, they're probably repaired by now but the damage was great enough to call in reinforcements from Alicante. That is why this place is abandoned." He said, answering their next question.
"Can you get us out of here?" Clary asked, making sure she did not speak above a whisper.
"I don't see the point in that, you needed to get here, you're here, and going back would only be taking a step back in progress, but I know a place where I can take you. It's out of the way far enough that Valentine won't come searching for you." Magnus said, Clary did not argue, any place was better than here at the moment.
"Who knocked the wards out?" Raphael asked, his face was blank, again he looked bored, but Clary had come to know that as his "business expression."
"There are plenty of rumors, the one you'd be interested in would be that a certain blue-haired, Asian, vampire led a group into the guarded area, successfully wiped out the guards, and shut the wards down." The corners at Magnus's mouth raised, Raphael mumbled something in Spanish.
"Can we just get out of here already?" Clary asked, she sounded a bit like an annoying little kid, but she did not care, if Nephilim were about to start parading through this area she did not want to be here when they did.
"A please would have been nice." Magnus said, and started the process to make the portal.
Magnus took them to a small building, guarded by trees so thick Clary could not even see the building until it was ten feet in front of her.
"They still have these?" Clary jumped at Raphael's voice, she had not realized how close he was.
"Yes. A few, this one is probably in the best condition." Magnus answered. "Alicante is that way" He waved his hand towards the right. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to figure out if I can go home or not, I'll be back soon." And he disappeared; the only thing that remained was a few traces of glitter on the ground that caught the moonlight.
"What exactly is 'one of these'?" Clary asked.
"Downworld safe houses, I thought the Nephilim destroyed them during the witch hunts." Raphael answered; he walked up the steps and inside, Clary trailing after him.
The place was smaller than she had thought. There were a few empty cabinets, a couch that probably pulled out into a bed, a bathroom and a back room that turned out to be a bedroom. Raphael dropped onto the couch, his hands behind his head, his gaze steady on Clary.
"What?" Clary asked she sounded accusing which in a way she was.
"You owe me. Twice now; I suggest you start paying up."
"You helped me escape, I owe you once." Clary corrected; she placed one hand on her hip and held up the other with one finger up to add emphasis.
"Yeah, but you hit me really hard." Raphael said, he leaned forward, arms out, with an innocent expression on his face.
"Well you can have the bed, there I repaid you." Clary said, sitting down on the couch, as far away as possible.
"Are you going to be in the bed as well?" Raphael asked; Clary avoided his gaze.
"No."
"Then I don't want the bed." Raphael finished. His hands went back up behind his head as he pretended to be asleep, but Clary could feel him glance at her every once in a while.
"Fine we'll both just stay awake all night and day, then when Valentine comes, we'll get our butts handed to us since we'll be too tired to put up a decent fight." Clary said, Raphael scoffed.
"You're the one who'll get their ass kicked, I'm not even tired and I can stay awake for days." He was right; Clary could feel the energy flow out of her; her eyelids were getting heavy, drooping lower and lower. Her brain did not even want to try and come back with a witty comeback. "I could carry you to the bedroom." Raphael offered; it was innocent enough, but Clary did not trust him.
"I'm comfortable here." Clary said, curling up in the corner of the couch and laying her head down on the arm of the couch.
"You're lying." His tone was flat, and before Clary could stop him he grabbed her, pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her so her head was resting on his shoulder.
"And you're a control freak." Clary muttered against him. She felt rather than heard his laugh as he tightened his arm around her; which only emphasized her statement.
