Author's Note: Last update for the night. Sorry it took so long. ADD strikes again! Anyway, enjoy and good night! (:

Chapter Fourteen

"You've made a mess of my makeup," I grumble as we walk towards the dinning room. I've had to retrieve my compact again, and I look in my reflection to find horribly smeared lipstick all over the bottom half of my face.

"It's not my fault you insist on wearing all that shit on your face," Jace snaps back, equally irritable.

"And my hair! You've wrecked it," I accuse, trying to pat down the wild strands.

"Excuse me while I cry tears of sorrow and loss."

I don't respond in any way but trying desperately to make myself appear to Valentine as if I haven't just been in an impromptu groping session with his son.

Then I glance over at Jace suspiciously and find my fears are grounded. "You have lipstick all over your mouth."
Jace mutters something vaguely insulting under his breath, swiping angrily at his face.

"Stop," I demand, pulling out a hanky from my purse and dabbing at his mouth and chin myself. He stands and fidgets like a child wanting to bolt, but he lets me clean the makeup off of him as best I can without water.

Then we make our way to the dinning room, where Valentine waits, glowering a bit, in the usual corner table.

"I was beginning to wonder if you two had gotten lost," Valentine says when draw near.

Despite my best efforts, as he looks between us, there's a slight smirk on his thin lips, as if he knows what we've been up to. He looks sickeningly satisfied, and Celine's previous words drift back to me.

He's dreadfully paranoid, always fearing that he and Jace will die out before the bloodline is continued.

Jace stiffly pulls out my chair for me, and then, once I'm seated, he flops down in the chair next to mine, a glare on his face. I'm not sure if he's mad at me, sexually frustrated because of our interruption earlier, or as enraged by his father's arrogant aura as I am.

"How have both of your days been?" Valentine inquires.

Jace grabs the wine bottle that rests in the middle of the table and pours himself a glass, downing it quickly and looking unsatisfied. A waiter walks by just in time, and Jace flags him down. "Bring me something stronger than this."

Valentine looks vaguely unhappy by the notion of Jace's request, but he simply turns his attention to me, arching his brows, prodding me forward on his previous question.

"It was well, thank you," I say with an easy smile. "And yours?"

Jace stiffens next to me at the small talk, but Valentine hardly notices.

The next hour is spent on boring small talk. I can never seem to get an opening into a deeper, more insightful conversation. Valentine seems to keep every topic very shallow, never delving beyond anything trivial.

And as the night progresses and a steamy stream of whiskey is available to Jace, he gets drunker and drunker until he's hanging his head forward, lying listlessly in his seat.

Valentine gracefully ignores his son and simply continues speaking with me. "You've adjusted well to the hotel, Clary?"

"Yes, thank you. Everything is lovely."

"No, it's not, don't lie," Jace slurs, suddenly deciding to pipe in on the conversation. "Nothing's lovely here."

"Jonathan, please," Valentine grinds out.

"It's Jace," he retorts, glaring drunkenly at his father. Even though his eyes are a little droopy, the look on his face is so dark and serious that it chills me a bit, and I can see clearly how terrifying Jace could be should he so please. "I hate when you call me Jonathan."

"Jonathan is your name," Valentine says.

Jace opens his mouth to respond, his face turning so violent that I have to quickly interrupt. I make a big show of looking around and asking, "What do you think is holding up our dessert?"

Valentine looks at Jace with barely concealed hostility before he looks away and sighs. "I'll go check, Clary. Excuse me." He leaves the table quickly, with jerky, angry steps.

I sit back in my chair, relieved a bit.

But the relief is short-lived when Jace suddenly leans into me, his breath hot and sticky against my neck as he mumbles, "I wanna fuck you, Clary."

My hand jerks up, immediately going to slap him, but he leans back and laughs a little, rolling his head back and forth like a complete lunatic. He's drunk, and we're in public. I can't slap him.

So I force my hand back into my lap and glare. "You're disgusting." I can't stomach this for long, so I get to my feet.

Jace's laughter dies immediately and he looks almost panicked as he grabs for my wrist. "Wait, Clary, no. I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean it…well, I did mean it but I shouldn't…shouldn't said like…shouldn't said it like that. Don't go."

I jerk my arm away from him hold. "I'm just going to the restroom. Try not to embarrass yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes, ma'am!" he exclaims dully.

I march my way towards the bathrooms, furious, my heels clacking loudly against the tile flooring. And right when I turn to go into the hall the bathrooms are on, I pause, quickly halting the sound of my approach.

"…can't do that!" a familiar but not immediately identifiable voice says.

I grab my compact from my purse silently and pop it open, tilting it to the side just enough so that I can see Sebastian.

And Valentine.

"Well, you have to," Valentine says.

"But, I can't. She doesn't want—"

"I don't give a damn what she wants, Sebastian! You'll do it or I'll make sure you rot in the streets with the rest of the human filth in this city!"

Sebastian seems to pale. He wrings out his hands, chews on his lip, waits for a moment. Then, in a shaky voice, he says, "Okay. I'll do it."

"Good."

I quickly snap my compact shut and walk away, afraid to get caught. When I get back to the table, my heart pounding, Jace is blowing bubbles in his water glass.

"Jace, I need to talk to you," I murmur.

"Talk to me, baby," he slurs, glancing up at me and dropping a wink.

I huff and sit down next to him, leaning close while my eyes scan the room, waiting for Valentine. "Why don't we go back up to my room?"

"Yeah, I like that idea," he says suggestively and lowly, hanging on his words.

I roll my eyes, but thank God that he's decided to get drunk tonight. He seems like a loose drunk, a talker, and maybe now is the perfect time to glean some information from him.

So when Valentine reappears, I tell him I'm going to take Jace back upstairs. Valentine seems relieved and preoccupied; obviously by whatever he's forcing Sebastian into doing.

Whatever it is, I decide it can't be good.

"Sit down," I order.

Jace falls onto my couch, mumbling about how he likes it when I'm bossy or some nonsense.

I simply roll my eyes but sit next to him, scooting close, questions on the tip of my tongue as I reach out and pull my fingers through his messy curls.

He looks over at me with glazed eyes. "Are you trying to take advantage of me?" he asks, dead serious.

"Don't flatter yourself," I scoff. Then I take his head between my hands, forcing him to look at me as best I can. "I have some questions for you, okay?"

"M-kay."

"Have you ever heard your father or someone mention anything about the Millhouse incident?" I ask, praying that he'll be too drunk to remember this. Too drunk to remember it tomorrow but not drunk enough not to be able to answer.

I'm taking a risk asking him these things, but I don't plan to spend the next five years of my life here, playing Jace's wife, just to get the information I'm after. I couldn't stand living here that long.

"Millhouse?" Jace demands, frowning. "That fire where all those humans…got…got burnt to a crisp?"

I grimace but nod. "Yes, that's the one. Has your father ever mentioned it?"

"Noooooo. Should he have?"

"I don't know," I reply honestly. Then I tell Jace to focus again before I ask him other questions.

Are there any files the Guardians keep on their dealings?

Jace's answer is that he can't tell me that, even in his drunken state.

I ask, Why is Valentine in charge, why will you be in charge next? What makes your bloodline so important?

He says it's always been that way.

I ask him how often and forceful do the demons attack the city boundaries.

But by now, he's too far-gone.

He simply says, "I like you, Clary. I know you don't think I do, but I do. You're pretty…and…and you have nice lips." He leans into me heavily before just toppling over, his head falling against my chest. I don't bother to move him because I'm too busy trying to piece together what little information he gave me, and he just continues rambling. Rambling about my lips and how he likes how curvy my hips are—strange things like that. And then he's talking about his father, how he can't stand the man. And that leads into things I'm actually interested about.

"He cheats on my mom all the time, sure. But that's not the only reason why he's an asshole. I mean, Mom doesn't even notice when he's cheating a lot of the time. She's too busy…too busy in her own head, in her visions—"

"Visions?" I interrupt, frowning down at the top of Jace's head.

"Yeah! She says she gets visions sometimes, sees things that haven't happened yet or are happening to someone totally unrelated to us at the same exact time…she doesn't have any visions. She's just bat-shit crazy, is all. I love her, but that's…that's the truth."

I try not to pause too long and lose Jace's interest. Instead, I quickly ask, "Then why else do you hate your father?"

"'Cause he keeps secrets. He's always being secretive about everything…and I…I don't trust him. I don't trust anyone here, Clary. We're all crazy…all of us. And everyone's got their secrets piled up…and when there's secrets, there's all this…all this desperation not to let your secret get out…and…and…" Jace trails off, and then he snores softly, letting me know our conversation has ended.

I carefully ease out from underneath him, letting him fall to the couch, and then I walk over to the phone. I call the correct number, let it ring a few times, and then, when someone picks up, I say, "I've got something."