Author's Note: Thank you for reading, enjoy!
Chapter 12
The sun was just starting to go down when Michael climbed out of bed and went to the closet to get his guard uniform. A full 24 hours had passed since they had burned Luke's amulet, and now, he and Stephen were to steal the Mortal Cup for reasons Michael still did not know.
His parents had to have known something was going on but they never asked. Even Josie had kept the dinner conversation light. Midway through dinner, the conversation had shifted to baby names, though Michael already knew what he wanted to name his son. Jonathan was his father's name and Michael's middle name, and he had always assumed that he would name his son Jonathan, to honor his own father. For a girl, they decided on Maggie Lancaster Wayland, simply because Josie's maiden name had been Lancaster. After the meal, Josie and Michael retired to their suite.
"Be careful tonight," Josie had whispered. She'd rolled over in bed and watched him in the fading sunlight. Sometime in the course of a few days her morning sickness had disappeared yet the cravings remained. Now, her face was fuller and occasionally flushed and she had begun scrutinizing herself in the mirror, eagerly awaiting any new signs of pregnancy. She was as excited to be a mother as he was to be a father.
"I promise," Michael said. He had learned when he was a child that a man's word meant something. He hadn't made promises to Josie on their wedding day because he thought he was supposed to, he made them because he knew that these were promises he would not break. "I'll be home in the morning." He crossed the room and kissed her lips before finding his boots and heading downstairs.
Michael was first to arrive at Goody's, the same bakery he and Robert had first attended a Circle meeting at. He and Stephen had agreed to meet there and wait until the appointed hour to begin their mission. For a brief, fleeting second Michael wished that Robert was with him, that Robert would be the one to lead them in stealing the Cup, though if Valentine had wanted Robert to help steal the Cup, he would have asked. This was how Valentine wanted it and Michael didn't dare want to disagree. Instead, he was paired with Stephen, who seemed eager to prove himself the same way Robert was.
To pass the time, Michael ordered one of almost everything before taking a seat at a booth towards the back of the shop. He slipped a hand in his pocket and rubbed a chalky feeling pill between his fingertips that had been given to him by Valentine. Michael hadn't needed an explanation yet Valentine offered him one this morning, when he and Stephen had met for breakfast at Fairchild Manor to receive final instructions.
"If you are caught stealing the Cup, you will be taken to prison. You will be questioned by the sword and you will reveal everything," Valentine said. A trial by sword would be excruciating but effective; anyone who held the sword in their hands was compelled to tell the truth even if doing so would land them in prison, or worse. The only way to succeed at this mission and survive was to not be caught. Michael thought back to Arin Penhallow. Had the path he had chosen been the correct one?
Over the door, the bell chimed, and Stephen stepped into the bakery. He walked back to the booth Michael was sitting in and dropped to a seat beside him, dressed in his guard uniform. This had been part of the plan, to make it look like they were headed to work, like it was any other ordinary night when it wasn't, not at all.
"Have a chocolate croissant, pumpkin," Michael said, nudging a plate over to Stephen. Stephen took the croissant on it and had a bite before having a sip of hot chocolate. A cool breeze wafted through the bakery, probably coming from the back door and the garden beyond it. The sky had been spitting rain on Michael's ride into Alicante, and he was reminded that they were entering the rainy season of hot days and cold nights before the leaves turned gold and red and everything began to die.
"Thank you," Stephen said. He finished the croissant before wrapping his hands around the mug of hot chocolate, his jaw clenched. The Stephen Michael remembered was so easy going; it was jarring to see how much he had changed since joining the Circle. Valentine had taken what little was left of Stephen's innocence and used it against him.
"Is everything alright?" Michael asked.
"Yes. No. Amatis and I had a disagreement," Stephen said. "She thinks that Valentine poisoned her. There is no way that Valentine would do such a thing. He's always going on that there aren't enough Nephilim. That we need to make more. He didn't kill my son. Isaiah. His name was Isaiah. I told her she's crazy. She's just like her mother."
Stephen sipped his hot chocolate as Michael sat by, certain that if he said anything without thinking about it, it would be the wrong thing. He and Stephen were supposed to be parabatai, a cohesive team united with one cause, and all Michael could think was that the rumor's about Amatis's mother were just rumors, and Amatis wasn't crazy at all.
But Michael couldn't think that way. He couldn't tell Stephen he had doubts, not when he wasn't sure what he doubted yet.
"The midwife said these things happen sometimes. Maybe there was something wrong with the baby. Maybe the miscarriage was a blessing in disguise," Stephen said. "Maybe it was Amatis. Maybe she's just not strong enough to bear my son." He said it so nonchalantly, as if he truly believed that not everyone was strong enough to have a son.
Michael wanted to refute this. He opened his mouth to say the words, that Amatis was as strong a woman as Jocelyn was, but then he remembered Stephen's scream as he knelt beside the pyre his son was burning on. Stephen had bore a grief Michael had no understanding of, having never lost a child of his own. If these were the things Stephen had to tell himself for the sake of comfort, who was Michael to argue with him?
"She's grieving, and so are you," Michael said. "You lost the baby, and Lukeā¦"
"You might as well know that Valentine has asked me to be his second in command, and I accepted. If he is going to avenge Luke's death, I want to be right there with him," Stephen said.
Michael had known that passing on Valentine's offer would only open the offer up to someone else. He hadn't foreseen that person being Stephen, who had barely been a Circle member for more than two months. He had so much happening in his personal life, between Amatis losing the baby and his marriage, which was clearly on the rocks, yet Valentine had chosen to burden Stephen with the task of replacing Luke and avenging his death, not to mention whatever else Valentine had planned.
Second in command should have gone to Robert, or Hodge. Anyone but Stephen. Yet Michael saw why Valentine had chosen Stephen, because who better to go after those who hurt Luke than someone who was personally affected by his death? To everyone, Luke had been a friend, yet to Stephen, he had been Amatis's brother.
"Congratulations," Michael said, his voice hollow.
"Thank you," Stephen said. "He wants my help, leading the Circle to greatness, and he believes in me. He wants the Circle to succeed." Stephen stared down at his placemat, drumming his fingers on the table, bravado trying to cover up the doubt in his voice. "I believe in him, and I want to help him to succeed. So now, I'm second in command."
It was nearly midnight when Michael paid a hefty bill and walked with Stephen out of Goody's. They rode their horses into the center of Alicante and stopped outside of the Accord's Hall, which, despite the late hour, was lit up with shining witchlight. Michael tied his horse up and walked inside with Stephen right behind him.
The Accords Hall was used for the signing of the Accords every fifteen years. When it wasn't being used for official Clave activities, it was a place for weddings and celebrations. The first room Michael and Stephen came to was a large room with a high ceiling made of glass. Rows of chairs faced a stage and a forgotten floral arrangement was looped over a candelabra. Michael recalled a picture he had seen at Fairchild Manor of Valentine and Jocelyn dressed in wedding finery, waltzing past the blurred faces of wedding guests in this very room. They had both been smiling, Jocelyn looking up at Valentine while he was looking past her.
Beside Michael, Stephen let out a shaky breath, causing Michael to instinctively reach over to steady him. Together, they walked down a hall to a doorway where two guards stood, dressed in the same uniform that Michael and Stephen wore and each holding heavy metal swords. Beyond the guards was a room that glowed with candlelight.
"We were hoping to see the Cup. My partner wishes to pray for his family," Michael said. Stephen nodded, looking ill.
Both guards studied them before stepping aside, nodding. Michael thought he sensed something familiar about one of the guards but then he lifted a hand and shoved Stephen towards the room. In another moment, they were inside. The room was little more than a large closet with no windows. The Mortal Cup sat on a stone alter at the front of the room. On the four walls surrounding the room were shelves, and on these shelves, thousands of tiny candles flickered. Stephen knelt before the Cup, folding his hands in prayer. Michael took an unlit candle and knelt beside him.
"For Isaiah," Michael whispered, lighting the candle with the flame of another.
"Angel, please forgive me," Stephen said, "I've done terrible things."
Michael bowed his head, closing his eyes as well as a chill ripped up his spine. He thought of the morning, of breakfast shared with Stephen and Valentine, and of Valentine's grip on his shoulder as he followed Stephen out the front door. Stephen had been looking around at the woods surrounding the manor; he hadn't seen Valentine lean close to Michael's ear and whisper, "and if this is the time you decide to reaffirm your allegiance to the Clave and fight for the side that opposes me, rest assured, your wife and child will be dead long before you return home."
Michael wanted to chalk the threat up to just that, a threat by a man who was insane enough to steal the Mortal Cup, but then he thought of a pink beverage and girl with a questionable family history, pregnant with the child of a man whose family history was rumored to be remarkable. He thought of an ordinary pregnancy suddenly gone wrong with no explanation.
Beside Michael, Stephen was whispering. Michael opened his eyes and placed the candle on a shelf before he glanced behind them, seeing the backs of the two guards. He wrapped his hands around the stem of the Cup and lifted, certain to feel something painful that would cause him to drop the Cup, but there was only a light pulsing against his palm. He placed a replica of the Cup in its place and slipped the Mortal Cup into the satchel Stephen was carrying on his back.
"Ready?" Michael asked. Stephen nodded, his head still bowed, before he stood up and turned for the door. He nearly collapsed yet Michael was there, steadying him, keeping him upright as they walked out of the room, passed the guards.
"Gentlemen?" A guard asked, when Michael and Stephen were a few feet away. Michael froze in place, sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. He turned back, his fingers digging into Stephen's side. "Good luck with your family."
"Thank you," Stephen said. He licked his lower lip and managed a small smile. Then they were headed for the door, trying not to run, and down the front steps to where their horses were waiting.
"Let's put it back," Stephen said, looking at the door to the Accords Hall. Michael could imagine guards bursting from it, chasing them down, taking them to the Gard and throwing them into prison. He thought about the poisonous pill in his pocket and he thought about taking it, ending it all because of something Valentine asked him to do, meeting his wife in heaven, and decided not yet. There was more to be done.
"No," Michael said, "let's go."
The ride back to Fairchild Manor took nearly an hour, even at a hard gallop. Michael doubled back twice, certain they were being followed, and midway through the ride the skies opened up with a cold, driving rain. He look back often to see Stephen's hair plastered to his face, his eyes, wide and scared, watching either side of the path. When they finally arrived at Fairchild Manor, they turned their horses over to a stable boy and walked up the front steps of the house.
In contrast to the storm outside, the house was silent. Valentine wasn't there to greet them. Instead, Celine was knelt on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, scrubbing at a stain of what looked like blood.
"Is everything alright?" Michael asked. Celine looked up, past Michael, seeing Stephen.
"It's Jocelyn," Celine said. "She fell down the steps. She's alright, just bruised, but the fall put her into labor." Stephen took a sharp intake of breath. "The baby should arrive before dawn. Valentine's with her, but I am sure he'll step away for his houseguests."
"Right, of course," Michael said. He studied the blood on the floor. There was so much of it, it didn't look right. Celine smiled.
"Go on upstairs. I'll be right up to run you both hot baths," she said, looking right at Stephen.
Stephen started up first, and Michael followed after, taking the satchel from him as they climbed the stairs. They parted at the top of the stairs, with Stephen going to the room he usually stayed in and Michael going in the opposite direction, to the master bedroom. When he got to the door he sensed activity behind it and knocked. After a moment the door opened and Valentine looked out, smiling when he saw Michael. In the room, Jocelyn was in bed, propped against the pillows, her eyes closed and her face pained as she gasped, her nightgown up around her knees.
"This was not how I was expecting this evening to go," Valentine said, stepping into the hall and closing the door. "Were you successful?" Michael held the satchel out to Valentine, who took it and looked inside. "Michael. What you have done for the Circle is incredible." He leaned forward and kissed Michael's cheek. "I've never been more proud of you. I knew I could believe in you." He kissed him again, causing Michael to step backwards.
"What are you going to do with it?" Michael asked. "I stole it for you. You owe me this."
"I'm going to use it for what it is to be used for," Valentine said. "I'm going to make more Shadowhunters. I am going to raise us an army to help cleanse the earth of all the Downworlders. A new era begins tonight, Michael, and I have you to thank for it."
When Michael went down to his room he smelled orange blossom perfume, as if someone had just been there. A plate with two sandwiches and a cup of tea was on the bedside table, and pajamas were laid out on the bed. Michael stepped into the bathroom to find the bathtub steaming with water lightly scented with lavender. He stripped out of his wet clothes and climbed into the tub, fully immersing himself, feeling heat slowly returning to his cold skin.
When he woke up again the water was cold, and Michael climbed out, drying off and dressing before he ate the now stale sandwiches. When that was finished he looked at the bed and thought about sleeping but his mind was spinning for the events of the night, so he left his room and walked down the hallway, listening. He heard the sound of a baby crying somewhere far away and smiled to himself just before he stopped in front of a door that was open a crack.
Muted candlelight spilled from the room, and Michael pushed the door open a little more, stopping when he saw black runes running down a tan back and a hand braced against a headboard. He saw hips move, pressing forward, then pulling back, thrusting hard, as Stephen made love to the blonde haired girl who lay beneath him.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Review if you like. Encouragement is always appreciated.
Teaser:
"You'll pay for this," Michael said, and walked out the door.
