Something funky going on with the reviews but I'm still getting them in my email, reading them & happy to get them.
I don't know how much longer this story will continue. Another chapter or two, I think, and then an epilogue. Feeling a little sad about it but I guess everything comes to an end.
Love to all!
Clary drew the rune on her arm carefully. This one wasn't like the others. She could tell she had to follow the lines on this rune precisely to make it work. She was done. She examined her work. Yes, it was good. It even glowed the brilliant red she saw in her vision and then she could feel the question; the answer she had to provide to complete the rune's effect.
Jocelyn Fairchild, she thought and she let her mind immerse in the memories of her mother. Her beauty, obstinance, fortitude held center court in Clary' recollections. She could feel a fluttering tingle throughout her body. Clary felt her heartbeat accelerating and a stinging sensation course through her fingertips, up her arms and spread through her chest, up her head and down her legs until it reached her toes then dwindled away. She looked down at herself. She had purposely put on a loose robe and as she stood she could feel the difference from the added inches. It was a strong, slim body, still vibrant but more than two decades older than the one she had always known.
And then the memories flooded in and she knew this body. This body belonged to the mind that now revealed itself to her. How much she loved her daughter! When she discovered her pregnancy, she knew she had to leave him. She could not allow him to pollute this child the way he had with her firstborn … Jonathan! Jonathan was contaminated. He was some foul, demon thing. She had wanted to love him but every time she looked at the baby she could feel its black soulless eyes drawing the life out of her.
Oh God! Jonathan! What was he? Valentine was an inhuman monster. How could he do that to Jonathan?
She took the cup. Valentine had stolen it from the Clave and had plans for it. He knew there was undiscovered power in the cup. More than just creating a new force of Nephilim. The cup would give him what he wanted, the powers of the downworlders: their immortality, their strength and speed and ultimately dominion over the world. How would he achieve this? She did not know but she knew he had been conducting experiments. Terrible experiments that brought him closer and closer to reaching his ambition. She could not allow that to happen. She took the cup right before the planned Uprising. She hid it and she hid the Book of the White …
Clary fell to her knees. She knew. She knew how to save her mother. She knew how to get the cup. But … but … she couldn't give it to Valentine. He would destroy all of them. He would destroy the world with the cup. The man was mad. He went against all the Covenants. He would deal with demons. He was likely part demon himself by now. Clary struggled with herself, with the part that was Jocelyn Fairchild. She needed the cup. She could not let Jace die and Valentine would kill him if she did not deliver the cup. She had to kill the beast.
Clary staggered to the desk and picked up the card and the stele. She traced the rune on the upper right hand corner of the card and watched it glow bright. Then she put the stele down and moved her hand into the card. She felt the cold, hard strength of the cup, lifted it and carried it out.
Her hand shook so she held the cup in both hands and marveled at the sight and feel of the cool gold. The other part of her had seen and felt the cup before, had dreamt the meaning of the rune one night as she had tossed and turned worrying how to conceal it from Valentine. And now what? Now what was she supposed to do? She had to get the Book from the Manor. She had to portal it to Magnus. He would know what to do. She had to find her mother. Where are you? Where am I? At Renwick's back in New York, an abandoned hospital on Roosevelt Island. Clary! Be careful! Stay away from them! Stay away from Valentine and Jonathan. Can't you see everything I've done? Everything to protect you?
Clary shut her eyes and squeezed the thoughts out of her head. She would lose her mind like this. She sat down and took big breaths in and out to calm herself. She could not argue with herself. She could not let her mother take over. But she needed her for one final task. She lay a blank card out, took a pencil and started to sketch the cup. She would make another card and send that to Dorothea. She would not let the old lady down. She would keep her promise.
Jonathan could hardly suppress the laughter that ached to escape his lips. His father expected a civilized conversation with the greater demon, Asmodeus. He watched Valentine carefully draw out the runes to call this king of demons and keep him contained within its protective shield. His father was an extremely learned man. Very few, if any others, knew the runes, the words, the sprinkle of the ashes of virgins and newborns that were required to enact the invocation. He knew Valentine kept things from him. It was evident now that Valentine did not entirely trust him. But Valentine underestimated him. Valentine did not truly know what Jonathan was capable of, how he surreptitiously followed and watched him and learned what Valentine tried to keep hidden from him. He didn't know everything yet but he knew enough.
His mother, his true mother, Lilith, had shared some of his secrets. Valentine had promised the mortal cup to Azazel. It seemed Azazel could use the cup, infused with Raziel's ichor, to construct a new tool that would release him from his chains on Duadel. In return, he would cede half his powers to Valentine. Valentine would essentially possess the preternatural abilities of a greater demon, second only to Lucifer, immortal with the ascendant powers to take possession over this world. Lilith had enabled their introductions, secured the necessary enchantments for Valentine to maintain some control during his encounters with the greater demons who would otherwise crush him.
Valentine also had some kind of hold over Lilith. She was bound to him in some way. She could not simply pass the knowledge to Jonathan, the incantations and runes that allowed Valentine to bargain with the ruling hellions. She could only speak to him through a passing fog, a few brief moments. She would do whatever she could for him. He was her only child but she could not oppose Valentine. They had formed their own unbreakable compacts long ago.
He carefully studied the runes and patterns that Valentine drew to beckon Asmodeus. He had wiped the encasing lines around a rune with a swift sweep of his foot while his father's back was turned, scattering the ashes at the center of his diagram. And that fool, Jace, was none the wiser. Too busy putting one foot in front of the other. He actually caught the buffoon shaking his head, no doubt clearing the tumbleweeds floating around in the space between his ears. And then he dared to look straight at Jonathan. Those empty golden eyes had the gall to meet his eyes and what's more, they challenged him. As if Jace hadn't been on the ground at his feet, at his mercy. And knowing that this loser had taken Clary, that he would claim the right to hold her and love her … he wanted to rip that vacant head off and smash it, smash that stupid jaw, crush his skull, squeeze his eyes into pulp.
But now his father was completing the conjuring, speaking the ancient Sumerian words to convoke Asmodeus safely within the confines of the pentagram. Except Jonathan had changed it and his father would not get the meeting he was expecting. Jonathan readied his fingers over the ring to take him back to the apartment. He knew his father would be irate but he no longer cared much for his father's reactions and he needed this moment. Away from his father and away from Jace, while they were thoroughly occupied. It was the least his father could do for him.
Alec was at the NY Institute and puzzled over the message he had just received. He had sent a fire message to Alicante.
We have seen Valentine Morgenstern. He has abducted shadowhunters, his wife, Jocelyn, their daughter, Clary Fairchild, and Jace Wayland. His son, Jonathan Morgenstern, also lives and works for him. He is searching for the Mortal Cup.
He had not known what kind of reaction that would reap. Certainly concern, a call to action, a plan to find and capture the villain. Instead he received a terse message from the Consul himself, Malachi Dieudonne. Alec was to come to Alicante with his sister. They would stand before the Council. They would be interrogated. No mention of Hodge. No one seemed to care for Hodge's input in the matter. Not that Hodge could join them in Idris, given the curse placed upon him, but Alec would have thought there would have been a meeting, some discussion, at the NY Institute where the events had unfolded and close to Valentine's last sighting.
They would require the services of a warlock to create the portal to Alicante. An appointed time was set in the message since the wards around Alicante would have to be dismantled to allow a portal entry. Fortunately, Alec was very close to a warlock that could provide such services. Of course he made no mention of Magnus in his report to the Council. He knew enough about the Clave's prejudices to know they would not treat Magnus with the honor or respect he deserved. He wanted badly to protect Magnus even though he knew Magnus was quite formidable and capable of preserving himself very well. He had hundreds of years of practice after all. Still, he was not a warrior. He shouldn't have to put his life in danger the way a shadowhunter was born and bred to do. He had sent Magnus a text asking him to meet him at the NY Institute. He had not explained why. He was pretty sure Magnus would not like it but he had no choice and at least this would give them a chance to say their goodbyes in person. It shouldn't be a long separation. He and Izzy had nothing to hide and then they could go back to tracking Valentine, recover their brother and Clary and apprehend Valentine and Jonathan.
"Now what?" Izzy came swinging into the library, holding her phone. He had sent her a text asking her to meet him here. Behind her was Hodge. Hodge did not look well at all. He had been looking progressively worse since Jace and Clary were taken by Valentine. He was unshaved, a scruffy shadow clear along his chin and below his nose, evidently no longer concerned with grooming, and adopting a general bedraggled appearance. He never realized how much Hodge must care for Jace to let his abduction affect him this way. Alec was somewhat surprised that Hodge bothered to show up.
"Get packed. We're going to Alicante," Alec told her.
"What? Why? Did Magnus track them there?" Izzy eagerly moved closer to her brother.
"No. Magnus hasn't sent any word yet about tracking them," Alec ran his hand through his hair frustrated. "It's the Council, or rather the Consul. He wants to question us."
Alec and Izzy turned to Hodge when they heard him stumbling back into a chair.
"Are you okay?" Izzy asked with concern. "You look god awful." She reached a hand out but Hodge cringed backward.
"You children don't understand … what it is to be imprisoned here. To be banned from your home, a disgrace to your family, never allowed … redemption," Hodge croaked out, then weeped into his hands.
"Hodge!" Izzy exclaimed then bent down attempting a fumbling hug that Hodge shrug off.
"No, no, I don't deserve your pity. I deserve this … I deserve this … but I … want to make it right," Hodge finished and ceased sobbing.
"What do you mean?" Alec asked uncertainly. Suddenly he remembered Luke's words, that he didn't trust Hodge and he was afraid that there was truth to Luke's concerns.
"I … I know where Valentine is … or where he was … he probably isn't there anymore but it should yield some clues to his current whereabouts," Hodge divulged.
"How do you know that, Hodge?" Izzy asked gently but her back stiffened.
Hodge lowered his head into his hands and slowly moved it back and forth as if to deny the truth. "I was in league with him … He promised to take away this curse … but he … I don't … I am … sorry."
"Is that why you wanted Jace and Clary to visit Dorothea without us?" Alec leaped to this conjecture. "How could you? Jace trusted you. We all trusted you!"
"Yes, it's true. There's no excuse … I was just so … desperate … and Valentine … he … he … scares me." Hodge was clearly a broken man. Neither Alec or Izzy could question that.
"Where is he or was he, then?" Alec continued in a stern tone. He actually did feel sorry for Hodge but was too conflicted with the knowledge that Hodge had practically handed Jace and Clary to Valentine to linger on that sentiment. "And what does he want with Jace?"
"He was at Renwick's, a rundown relic on Roosevelt Island, but one of the last places in New York with a permanent portal," Hodge muttered with his face still down in his hands. "I don't know what he wants with Jace but … but he raised the boy. He is the man that Jace always believed to be his father. Now, I know the truth. Jace is not a Wayland. He is Stephen Herondale's offspring."
"What?" voiced Izzy, a stunned look on her face.
"Who is Stephen Herondale?" asked Alec, shocked, but clearly determined for answers.
"Another shadowhunter. A very talented one, he was a remarkable man. But he was swayed by Valentine, followed him into the Circle like so many of us, but I do believe in the end … he recognized the dark path that Valentine had taken … and he wanted to renounce the Circle … but it was too late." Hodge explained, his voice wavering.
"And Valentine … Valentine raised Jace?" Izzy asked perplexed.
"Yes, as Michael Wayland, another deceased shadowhunter and former member of the Circle," Hodge continued, "But I never knew … I never knew if Jace was Valentine's true son or the infant he saved when Celine Herondale took her own life. Now I know … after I met … Sebastian."
"What will we do? What should we do?" Izzy turned to Alec, panic rising in her voice.
"We send a fire message to the Council and then we go to Luke. He will come with us to Renwick's," Alec answered decisively.
He knew the Council was expecting them to arrive in Alicante but they had to jump on this chance to catch Valentine unprepared.
Clary panted heavily. She had just run up to the Manor, retrieved the Book of the White from the Wayland library and hurried back to the cottage. She knew she could not hold onto it for long. She had to send it to Magnus, but how, where? She looked through the book but it was all written in some ancient language that she could not decipher. The pages were a delicate, onion skin. She was afraid to handle it, afraid to damage it. But where would she send it? Where could she send it? Finally, an answer came to her. She wrote out a note addressed to Magnus, placed it behind the cover of the book then drew the portal rune against a wall. She watched the streaking silver grey and black swirls form and could see the room that she had envisioned. Someone had run through the room like a whirlwind but she supposed there was a good reason for that and she shoved the book through the portal. She could see it land on the bed and then the portal subsided.
She sighed with relief. It was done. She had finished the card and sent it via portal to Madame Dorothea. She had found the book and sent it to the safest place she could think of that should reach Magnus … eventually. She wondered how long this rune on her arm would last. She could still feel the worry, the fear her mother held for Clary's safety. She wanted, no she needed it to go away. She could not get distracted with this … idiotic terror for herself. How long would it take? The fear for her daughter, herself, threatened to take over.
She was looking down at her hands, Jocelyn's long, graceful fingers, callused from years of training, fighting demons then handling paints and fashioning her own canvas boards, when a shadow fell over her. It was too early. She had not expected Jace to return for several hours yet but she looked up with a smile, eager to have him back in her arms. It was Jonathan. He stood a few feet from her and appeared even more startled by her presence than she felt at his unwelcome proximity.
"What are you doing here?" he seethed, the shock in his eyes narrowing with contempt. "Where is Clary?"