The time-line is a bit skewed in this chapter, and will be in the next, as we play catch-up with Jace. This chapter has A LOT of information, so feel free to PM me or leave a review if you have any questions, or need something cleared up.
I am so overwhelmed with all the story favorites, reviews, and subscriptions. So much so, that I put my other two stories on hold to update this. So, I hope you enjoy it!
As always, this is unbeta'd and of course, I don't own TMI.
My Own Personal Hell
Placing his booted foot alongside his blade, Jace loosed his seraph blade from the last forsaken. Lifting his head, he looked around him. This was too easy, he thought. During the whole battle, if it could be called that, only one in their ranks had lost his life. Many were injured, but it was nothing a few iratzes couldn't fix. His eyes canvased the field for his family, finding Robert and Maryse with their heads bent, talking in hushed voices with a dozen or so Shadowhunters. To the left of the clearing was Alec, kneeling over someone, his stele in hand, as Magnus looked on from the shadows.
After wiping the darkened blood from his blades and replacing them in their various scabbards, Jace walked toward the warlock. His cat eyes landed on him as he approached.
"Coming to check on Clarissa, I see." Magnus crossed his hands over his chest, eyeing Jace with a grin.
"Just as I said I would." Jace was in no mood for friendly banter.
"What I don't understand, is why you don't just do a tracking rune. My spell takes time and energy, and my time and energy requires coin." He rubbed his thumb and fingers together for emphasis. Magnus was done with the free-loading use of his skills. He felt far less philanthropic after his break up with Alec.
"And I've told you I will pay you. I need your magic because it is more precise, and if I need to get to her quickly, you can portal me."
Magnus rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Well, you do have a point there. Besides," he slipped his hand inside his ankle-length velvet coat, "the impromptu meeting of the brain trust looks to be quite enthralling, so I doubt they'll need my assist for some time. Which means, by default, I'm all yours." He finished with a sweeping bow before straightening once again. Strands of hair the color of fire were now clasped in his hand. "A lock of your lover's hair, roots and all. Do I dare to ask how you procured this?" He raised an eyebrow in challenge.
Jace answered him with an unwavering stare.
"Yes, well down to business then." Magnus gathered Clary's long strands into the palm of his right hand, his other hand hovering a few inches above it. "Egredere de quocumque," he chanted over and over again as blue rays of light danced and swirled around his hands. "Reperi! No! It can't be." Magnus's cat eyes flew wide with a look of shock.
Jace was about to comment on how 'come out, come out, wherever you are,' whether spoken in Latin or not, was still pretty cheesy, until Magnus's usually cool demeanor completely changed. "Where is she?" Jace demanded.
"In Las Vegas," Magnus replied under his breath, as if lost in a trance.
"Then what's wrong?" Jace yelled, taking a step closer. His hands reached out to grip the stunned warlock. The moment Jace touched Magnus, he flinched and recoiled as if burned. Jace looked down in time to see the flicker of orange burn out beneath his skin. He had burned him.
"Magnus, I—I'm …"
Magnus held up a hand to stop him. "Clary's in danger."
"What? I thought you said she was in Vegas."
Magnus nodded as he spoke, but then began shaking his head. "Yes, she is, but I'm not the only person tracking her."
"Do you think Sebastian—"
"No. Well, yes. It's—"
"You're not making any sense!" Jace growled out in frustration.
"If you would stop and listen, it will make sense. There's another warlock tracking her, a very powerful one. I can sense her magic."
"Her?"
Magnus glared at Jace for the interruption. "Yes, her. She's the only warlock alive that stands a chance at getting past my wards. She must be working for Sebastian."
"Then we have to go! Now!" Jace's outburst had garnered the attention of more than a few people, but he didn't even notice them. The weight of their stares slid right off his back in the wake of Magnus's words.
"Do you think I don't know that? Now, be quiet and let me work."
For once, Jace shut up. His eyes went glassy, unseeing. His mind worked against him, running through the worst possible outcomes of Magnus's words. As the feelings of helplessness lapped away at his hope, anger filled the empty void. It wasn't long before his own body burned brighter than the pyre of the dead.
The first thing Clary was aware of was the sound of water, steadily dripping. Then slowly, sensations began to return to her body. Her mouth felt dry and full of cotton, and her back ached and pricked with numbness from the cold, packed ground beneath her.
As the dull memories began to filter hazily through her mind, she became rigid with fear. Equal parts of her screamed to open her eyes and to keep them firmly shut. In the end, curiosity won.
The room, if it could be called that, was lit by a single witch light, bouncing soft, white light off of the jagged, rocky walls. At first guess, she assumed she was in a cave.
When she propped herself up on her elbows, a cold, familiar voice filled the small space, sending her scrambling backwards until her back collided with a damp, rocky wall.
"I thought you'd never wake up. I think the faerie sleeping draught was intended for someone of normal stature. I guess I used too much." Sebastian laughed humorously, the sound falling flat to Clary's ears as fear crept up her throat making it impossible to speak.
Reluctantly, her eyes landed upon the owner of the voice. His features looked even more cruel and devastating in the harsh light. His dark, cavernous eyes were set in shadow, the light only touching the ridge of the cheekbones, nose, and chin. He took a step toward her, towering over her crouched form.
"Sebastian," Clary croaked. She wanted his name to be filled with venom, but instead it came out devoid of emotion.
"Yes, my dear sister?" He crouched down, settling his weight on the balls of his feet as he glared into her fearful, wide eyes.
"I—where am I?"
"Hell," he responded easily. "Or, if that name is too unnerving, you may call it the Abyss. If you've ever wondered where demons go when you kill them on Earth, this is that place."
"We're in Hell? How is that even possible?" What Clary wondered more than that was how she could have a calm conversation with her brother without trying to rip out his throat. She had to force her gaze back to her surroundings to look for something, anything she could use for a weapon. Still, the effort felt empty, hollow.
"This is Lilith's domain, as the mother of all demons. She has allowed us to stay here while I gather my army. If you are questioning the décor, well, we would be residing in my apartment, if someone hadn't gone and blown it up."
Clary ignored the jab and instead focused on getting as much information as possible out of Sebastian while he seemed willing to give it.
"Lilith? Is she here?"
Sebastian folded his arms across his chest, bringing his forefinger to his chin as he looked around them. "I'm sure she's around here somewhere. Yes."
Clary shivered, an act that didn't go unnoticed by Sebastian.
"She won't hurt you, if that's what you're thinking. She needs you, we both do."
Clary's blood seemed to still in her veins. "Needs me for what?"
Sebastian pointed at her, "There," he chuckled under his breath, "is the fire I've missed. I thought perhaps you'd lost it."
"Just answer the question," she ground out, her anger flaring.
"I need your ability to create new Runes." He raised a blonde eyebrow in challenge. "Not what you thought I was going to say, was it?"
Clary let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"Although," he continued, Clary's head snapping back to his face, "I have to question your abilities, as you seem oblivious to the power of the Rune I've placed on you."
Clary's eyes widened, she immediately searched her bare arms, flipping them over and inspecting them for any new Marks.
"Not there," he leaned in, his icy breath fanning over her face. "Here." His hand rose to her chest, dragging a single finger over the thin fabric covering the skin over her pounding heart.
Clary didn't have the time to question how the clothes she was now wearing got there. Instead, she clawed at the fabric at her neckline, ripping it down and to the left to reveal a new Rune—a permanent Rune—now burned into the flesh over her left breast. Dark, sweeping lines that spoke of faith and commitment.
"A Loyalty Rune?" She half chuckled half sighed under her breath. "It's only symbolic." Her eyes rose to meet cold, black ones, a gloating smirk on her face.
The answering grin from Sebastian was enough to make Clary's falter. "You're right. It is." He stood from his crouch, turning away from her and walking toward the mouth of the cave. "Did you ever wonder why I was so eager to help you retrieve the Book of the White?"
Clary didn't understand where the turn in the conversation was going, but answered him truthfully and without hesitation. "I thought you wanted to get to know me, to gain my trust."
He turned back toward her. "Yes, that was part of it, but my reasons were two fold. I wanted the book. Well, father wanted the book. The Book of the White contains spells of binding, and being the avid researcher that he was, Valentine had discovered that you could make the effects of symbolic Runes quite literal with the correct spell.
"He planned on using the Loyalty Rune in conjunction with the spell to assure complete fealty of all Shadowhunters who accepted his sovereignty after he razed Raziel."
"But Magnus has the book." Once again, her mouth opened, telling him exactly what was on her mind before a second's forethought.
"Had."
Clary looked at him in confusion, trying her best to keep her thoughts to herself. Magnus wouldn't willingly give away the book—unless maybe to the Clave. Did Sebastian have spies among the Clave's ranks? That was definitely a possibility.
"I see your mind working, trying to figure out how I came to be in the possession of such a powerful book. It's simple really. I took it from him."
Clary was still entirely dumbfounded.
"I happen to have, in my possession, the antidote to your Magnus Bane. Do you know much about a warlock's power, Clary?"
She shook her head thinking he would tell her regardless. He surely seemed to thrive on his superiority.
"A warlock's power is largely dependent upon their parentage—the stronger the demon who fathered them, the more powerful their magic. And Magnus, well he is something rare. Not quite one of a kind, but rare. His magic, like all warlock's magic, has a signature. A trademark. His hand was written all over the block in your brain, the one that blocked your Sight. Each magical signature is unique—the more powerful the warlock, the more difficult it is to decode their signature; to dispel their magic. But, like DNA, siblings share similar signatures, and I happen to have Magnus's sister in my ranks."
"Magnus has a sister?" Clary's mind was still struggling to wrap around that piece of information, much less the rest of it.
Sebastian's face lit up in a triumphant smile as he side-stepped out of the entryway. The outline of a figure could be seen behind him, still shrouded in shadows but decidedly feminine.
A woman with pale skin and blonde hair, held back in twisting braids, stepped into the light. She was tall, almost six feet Clary guessed, and quite slim.
"This is Eona."
Eona smiled and took two steps closer to Clary. "People tell me my brother and I look nothing alike, though we do have the same eyes." She had a heavy accent that Clary couldn't place.
Clary could now make out the features on her face—the thin, pointed nose, the high, sharp cheekbones, and the green glint of her cat eyes.
Before she realized it, Clary found herself saying, "his eyes are more yellow than green."
Sebastian and Eona both laughed, the sound echoing eerily off the cave walls.
"Before I leave you two to your business, there are a few things that I must cover. First, though I shouldn't need to say it, is that you shouldn't try to escape. There are only a handful of caves in this complex that are protected by Lilith. To go beyond her protection means certain death. This is the home of demons, and they are much more formidable here than on Earth. Secondly, you are to address me as Jonathan when there are others around. Lastly, I will expect you to start your work on the Runes I request tomorrow. I'll come by later to explain what I'll need. Until then, goodbye sister." The corner of his mouth drew up in a devilish smirk before he turned and left, leaving the two women alone.
An awkward moment of silence passed between the two before Eona spoke.
"I could show you to your room if you'd like."
"You mean this isn't it?" The bitter edge had returned to her voice. Her hand covered the Rune over her chest. Clary guessed the Rune's effect didn't extend to the warlock, because she wasn't exactly feeling warm and fuzzy toward her.
"No, but it is close. Your room currently has a bed and desk. If you'll accompany me, we can go over the other items you will need."
Clary rose to her feet, smoothing the too large clothes down over her body, and followed Eona. They emerged from the mouth of the small cave into a long, winding passageway with tunnels opening up at staggered intervals. The whole place looked to be dug out by some giant, burrowing worm. Clary looked into the tunnels as they passed, some shooting straight up above her head, and others she had to walk carefully around to avoid falling into them. Cold, wet air came from each passage way, their depths so dark she couldn't tell how far they went.
Up ahead, she saw the soft, white light of a witch light coming from an opening on the right. Eona didn't pause before walking through the opening, causing Clary to hurry after the warlock. She felt too exposed in the passageway by herself.
Once in the room, that was really only another cave, her eyes rested upon a simple wooden bed and desk. The mattress lay bare resting in its frame. Clary did notice, however, that it looked like someone had made an effort to create a division between the floor and the walls, as this room had more flat surfaces than the last. Still, the space was less than inviting and the damp cold clung to her skin despite the pants and shirt she wore.
"There's no ventilation for a fire, unfortunately, so I'd recommend warm clothes."
"That would be great if I had any. Speaking of which, do you know who these," she gestured to the clothes hanging off of her, "belong to?"
Eona smiled, and unlike Seba—Jonathan, Clary might as well get used to calling him that—her smile reached her eyes. The warlock wasn't feigning emotion which struck Clary as both odd and unsettling.
"The clothes belong to Samantha, one of Jonathan's Shadowhunters."
Clary repressed the urge to shudder. She knew which type of Shadowhunters Eona was referring to. "How many of them does he have?" Maybe she would be just as willing to talk as Jonathan was.
"I'll let him discuss that with you later." Well, I guess not, Clary thought.
"So, are you supposed to watch me? Make sure I don't try to escape?"
Clary felt a little perturbed when Eona laughed at that. "No. No. He knows you won't try to escape. He told you not to, and so you won't."
Clary hated that her words rang with truth, she could feel it. No, she wouldn't try to escape, couldn't.
"I'm here to get you the thing you will need to make this place a little more comfortable; bed linens, rugs, tapestries, whatever you like. Oh, and clothes of course. You'll need something that fits you better. Jonathan has already provided me with your measurements. I just need to know your style preference."
Clary wrapped her arms around herself. He provided her with my measurements? She hoped that didn't mean what she thought it did; that not only did Jonathan dress her, but apparently he took his time doing so. She took a deep breath to fight the oncoming nausea.
"—jeans, shirts, or warm dresses and leggings type?"
Clary's head rose to meet Eona's expectant gaze. Clary had no idea how long she'd been talking. "Um, jeans and sweaters I guess." She hoped that was the answer to whatever question she'd asked.
"Any particular style of jeans and sweaters? Are there colors you prefer?"
"No skinny jeans, they just make me look shorter, and nothing too bright or busy patterns for the sweaters. Other than that I don't really care." Clary couldn't really picture anything bright in such a dreary place.
Iona nodded and turned away from her, facing the bed. When she stepped away and turned around, there were piles of clothes sitting on the once empty mattress. Clary just gawked, amazed.
"This may be embarrassing, but … undergarments?"
"I really don't care what those look like," because no one will see them, she finished in her head.
"All right, what about furnishings for the room?"
"Do you have some catalogue I could pick from? That would sure make things easier." Clary was half-joking, half-serious. It was hard to pick items out of thin air, well, at least for her it was. Eona seemed to have no problem doing just that. Besides, she wasn't sure if any amount of decorations would make the space anything more than what it was—a damp, cold cave.
Eona laughed. "That would be helpful, wouldn't it?" Then, as if by magic—well, it actually was magic—a catalogue appeared in Eona's hand. "This is from Macy's. I hope it will have what you want."
"So, where is this stuff coming from, anyways?" She'd seen Magnus pull items out of thin air, but had never asked him how he did it and where they came from. Clary took a step closer to Eona, feeling much more at ease with the warlock than her brother.
"These are from the Macy's in Herald Square." She gestured to the clothes already on the bed. "It was the only place I knew of in New York."
"So you have to be familiar with the place?"
"Yes, most times pictures will do, but it helps if you've been there. The catalogue will make it easier for me, too. It's a bit more difficult bringing items across different dimensions rather than just across the globe."
"So, is that what Hell is, just a different dimension?"
"Hell is many different dimensions. This is just one of them. Dante described them as layers, but dimensions don't stack on top of each other, and there are far more than he defined. By way of fictional works, his was the most iconic, but one can't truly know Hell unless one's been there."
"And here we are." Clary swept her hands out dramatically before taking the catalogue from Eona and settling down on the bed beside the piles of clothes.
It took a few hours, but when they were done, there were curtains and pictures, sheets and bedspreads, note pads and pencils, easels and charcoal, and rugs covering the entire earthen floor. She had to admit, the place did look better. She had discovered a major drawback however, when she had asked for a battery-operated space heater. Eona explained that, like Idris, electronic devices couldn't function here because of the demonic energies.
As the two girls flipped through page after page of the catalogue, Clary began to relax and unwind. She found that had they been in different circumstances, she might like the warlock. The ease Clary felt around Eona led her to question why the warlock was here, helping Jonathan to kidnap his own sister and plot to take over the world.
"Well, it's a long story." The way she said it didn't make it seem like she was unwilling to tell the story.
"I have time—a lot of time, in fact." Clary chuckled miserably.
"I was raised by Faeries. It's common practice for the Fey to take warlock children and replace them with human children." When Eona's cat eyes saw the bewildered expression in Clary's green ones, she elaborated. "When mother's see their child for the first time, they don't expect them to have eyes like mine, tails, or strangely colored skin. In my time, newborn warlocks were often killed for their oddities without Fey intervention."
"But I thought you can disguise your Mark from human eyes?"
"Yes, we can, but that takes practice. We need to hone our magick for that. When we are born, our Marks are laid bare for all to see. So often, sensing the magick of an unborn warlock, the Fey will attend the birth and trade the baby for a human or Fey child. It was tricky, and they sometimes failed in their endeavors, but they've long since been meddling in the affairs of humans—snatching newborn babies and exchanging them with sickly, newborn Fey. You see, faeries, for all their longevity, have difficulty producing children. Half of their babies are stillborn, and half that don't survive infancy. They often steal human children and raise them to breed among the faeries, allowing them to continue their bloodlines."
Clary nodded, remembering Aline's girlfriend, a Shadowhunter with pointy ears and oddly startling aqua eyes. "I knew a Shadowhunter who was part Fey."
"Yes, that's been known to happen, too." Eona shook her head as if shaking away a thought. "I've gone off on a tangent haven't I? So, as I was raised by the Fey, I have long since been indebted to them. They take debts and favors very seriously, as I'm told you know." Clary did, she and the Seelie Queen had gone back and forth with the debts and favors. "The Summer Court has decided to aid Jonathan, and so I will, too."
"So you're forced to help him." Clary thought she liked the girl even more, now. Somehow knowing that this was not her choice, but a way to repay a debt made her think that perhaps she could find some common ground with the warlock.
"No, not forced. I was long ago released from the binding debt to the Fey, but I still feel a responsibility toward them."
"So you're doing this of your own free will? Steeling books from you brother, kidnapping me, and who knows what other horrible things?" Clary's voice rose, and she found herself backing away from Eona, all the anxiety that had fallen away, now creeping back in.
"Borrowing a book," she corrected. "And yes, I 'm here by my own free will, but that's all dependent on Jonathan. Right now, I'm his errand girl, sent to fetch things—you included—for him. He knows that there's a limit to my assistance. There's only so much I will tolerate. But I'm here for self-preservation. I may not be as noble as you and your young Shadowhunter friends, but I'm not stupid. I'll be on the winning side of things, whether the winning side is with Jonathan's army or not."
"You are so unlike you're brother."
Eona took the tone of Clary's voice to be an insult. "I have only met my brother once, but from what I've heard, he is much like me … except when he's in love. Then, his services, his life, his heart—he gives those away freely."
"Is that such a bad thing?" Clary snarked.
"It is when your life hangs in the balance." Eona's cat eyes flashed once, and then a strange look passed over her face before she turned to leave. For a moment, Clary thought that the warlock looked sad, but it was so fleeting, she couldn't be sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
The room felt different when she was alone. Lifeless. Even her own life was no longer her own. The Rune on her chest didn't speak of loyalty, she thought, it spoke of ownership. Possession.
So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. This has been in my head for so long, it feels really good to have it out there.