Luke had found his way to a large high ceilinged room. A grand oak table was placed at the center. The whole setting was quite ornate and unusual considering the ruins that housed it. He walked around the room, fingering the rich fabrics, gliding his hand along the hard surfaces. It was all kept remarkably clean and free of dust. He wondered idly if Pangborn or Blackwell had kept the place so well polished. Neither would be doing any more cleaning. They were both dead. Pangborn at his own hands and Blackwell by a band of wolves that had followed him into the depths of Renwick's Hospital.
He had left Jocelyn with Gretchen. She promised to watch Jocelyn, a blood oath. Nothing would happen to Jocelyn while Gretchen drew breath. Now Luke's objective was to find Clary and he would do that. He would not be stopped. Luke came across a thick, draped curtain. The fabric was a heavy, rich, burgundy velvet. Luke let his fingers flow across the velvet and felt a smooth glass like surface behind it. That was odd. He was aware of enough of the building layout, it walls and entrances, to know there could be no window behind these drapes. He pulled at the fabric and came face to face with a swirling silver gray portal. He did not touch the surface but held his face close enough to see a dark moonlit path, rich greenery everywhere and a large, imposing Manor House further along the pathway. The manor looked vaguely familiar. Idris, thought Luke. This portal leads to Idris. And hadn't they guessed that Valentine had kept Clary and Jocelyn hidden in Idris when they first questioned Clary at the wolf station? His first instinct was to leap through the portal and discover the truth but no, he needed to gather the remains of his pack. He doubted he could take down Valentine alone and more importantly he had to make sure he could retrieve Clary alive and well. He could not leave it all to chance.
Luke wished he could ask Magnus and even the shadowhunter youths to join him. They had proven themselves as fierce and invaluable allies but Magnus was in no shape to wake let alone get up and fight another unknown possessed swarm. And Alec would need some time to recover. He had been badly hurt and was only barely resuscitated. He would check with Isabelle. She was uninjured for the most part and may want to accompany him. After all it wasn't just Clary they were searching for, there was Jace as well. As Luke stared into the portal he felt another sharp driving impulse to run through. Clary needed him. He heard footsteps behind him and swiveled around. It was Alaric, one of his trusted lieutenants.
"Alaric, I'm glad you're here," Luke started. "Gather the others, whoever can stand and fight. We go to Idris."
Clary was laying out the arsenal she would need when she heard the sound of a rustled entrance behind her. She turned eagerly expecting Jace. Instead she was met by her brother's ghastly visage. He was greatly wounded and missing a hand, practically covered in blood and gore. But remarkably, he looked quite pleased with himself, a satisfied smile on his face, his white teeth shining in the lamplight.
Clary's heart stopped. "Where is Jace?" she asked him.
"He's lying around somewhere," Jonathan answered breezily. "Don't worry. He isn't dead," he continued when he saw the distress on her face. "Although, he probably wishes he was. If you think this is something," he twirled to give her a full view of his injuries, "I can guarantee, Jace is a masterpiece."
Clary pulled out two seraph blades and called out Af and Hashmal, the white blaze criss crossing. "What have you done with him?"
"Really?" Jonathan's mouth dropped. "I could have killed him. Easily. But I saved him for you and this is how you thank me?"
"Where is he?!" she roared and Jonathan flinched back.
He moved so fast she could barely keep up but he was obviously not at his best and he was missing his favored right hand. He whipped out Phaesphoros but he did not handle it to strike her. She could tell he maneuvered defensively but she didn't care. Though, she didn't want him dead. She had to know. She needed him to tell her where Jace was and … what he did to him.
Her twin seraphs came hammering down on him and she could feel him struggling to keep his broad sword up to deflect her attack. Finally, he swung away and she found him across the room, more than twenty feet away.
"Stop, Clary," he warned. "I don't want to hurt you."
She crouched to spring at him.
"We need each other. You give me what I want and I'll give you what you want," he continued.
Clary stiffened, "You know what I want. What do you want?"
He was still in a fighting stance, ready to parry or wield his sword for an assault. "I want the rune, the one to transform."
Clary watched him silently and then said, "Tell me what you did with Jace."
"Let's just say, you two won't be enjoying any romantic strolls," Jonathan snorted, "and don't count on any hand holding either."
"Oh my God," Clary heaved. "What have you done?"
"That's right," Jonathan answered deprecatingly. "Use your imagination. The reality is infinitely worse."
Clary realized she was trembling and forced her body still. "But he's alive. That's what you said."
"Yes, that's what I said," Jonathan placated her. "But these things can be tricky. You know that's a great deal of shock for a body to experience. Who knows? He may be dying this very moment. He'd probably want to share his last moments with you."
Clary gritted her teeth. "Why do you want the rune? Who could you possibly transform into?"
"Do you want Jace or not?" Jonathan answered testily. "Because you're running out of time."
Clary dropped her blades and walked over to him with her stele out. Jonathan smiled and sheathed Phaesphoros back into the scabbard hooked on his belt.
"I knew you could be reasonable," he said satisfied.
"How do I know you'll honor our agreement?" she asked, the stele hovering over his arm
"Why would I lie? I do not lie to you," Jonathan spoke serenely and looked at her tenderly.
Clary felt ill from the way his eyes caressed her. "Why? Why would you allow me to reunite with Jace?
Jonathan sighed, "Because he no longer matters. You'll see. He can do nothing to me. And he can do nothing for you. I want you to see him."
Clary forced herself to be brave. She would be strong. She thought of Jace, how she loved his steadfast courage and resilience. She would adopt his iron will. She would not be weak or give up. She slowly traced the rune on Jonathan's inner forearm. They both watched as it blazed a heated red.
"How long will it last?" Jonathan asked strangely subdued.
"I don't know. I don't know how to control it but that one time I used it, it remained for almost two hours," Clary answered looking at his endless glittering black eyes.
"How? How do I change?" Jonathan held her wrist as if that would impart the knowledge he needed.
"First, you tell me where is Jace?" Clary said firmly.
Jonathan's eyes narrowed. He seemed to be gauging her. "He's on the path to the Manor House, by the large ash tree."
Clary bit down on her lip. She would not cry. She knew it had to be bad if Jace was lying so close by but hadn't returned to her. "You must envision the one you wish to transform into. See this person, fully, wholly. You must know the person intimately for it to work."
"Very well," he nodded.
They both looked down at the rune. The furious red flame seemed to twist and turn, changing from red to blue then white and back to red again.
She didn't know how he had hidden it from her but he then pulled out something long and thin wrapped in a thick cloth.
He placed it gingerly on the desk and looked back at her. "I've brought you a gift. It belongs to you," he said reverently.
He reached out and brought her gently to his chest with his unmarred arm and kissed the top of her head very softly. She did not fight him, only watching him searchingly.
"I will come back for you. The next time you see me, you will not be able to refuse me," Jonathan declared with conviction.
Then he turned and departed with surprising alacrity. She rushed over to the desk and pulled the fabric away from what it encased. It was a black silver and gold sword, a smaller version of Phaesphoros, a short sword. It was beautiful and it was hers. It was a Morgenstern sword and she was a Morgenstern. She knew she had seen this sword before, the engraved stars falling from the heavens and it wasn't just its apparent matching theme to its long sword partner. There were other subtle differences beside its size. And then she knew. She knew where she had seen it and what she had to do. Her heart stopped a beat but she wasted no time locating the notepad and poured her soul into the words she wrote hurriedly. She was in a rush, an anxious panic to get to Jace seeping through her core. Then there were runes to apply. She worked speedily but carefully. It was the most important thing she had ever done in her life.
"Of course, I'll come," Izzy said a bit exasperated. The light imprint of healing runes were still apparent on her skin and she newly applied strength and rejuvenation runes to restore her energy for the work ahead.
Luke watched her almost wishing he could take the runes as well, but that was impossible now. He looked down at Magnus and Alec. They had both been laid out side by side on a large king sized bed in another opulently furnished room that Luke suspected had been occupied by Valentine. He certainly wished runes could be applied to Magnus. His healing talent was amazing. He had literally brought Alec back from the dead although Alec had only been gone for a few seconds but Luke had never known any other warlock to accomplish this feat. However, it had clearly taken a great toll and it seemed certain Magnus would not be up and around for quite some time.
Alaric entered the room. "There are nine of us that can continue," he informed Luke, his head slightly lowered submissively.
"Good," Luke nodded. "Come, we go through the portal."
Luke walked out of the bedroom with Izzy, Simon and Alaric following him. Luke felt a painful tightness in his heart. He did not want to leave Jocelyn so soon after finding her but he could not delay any longer. He couldn't shake the feeling that the portal would lead him to Clary and that she needed him … desperately.
He was fighting with everything he had, battling with himself to pull out of the murky blackness and regain consciousness. He would not lie here helpless. Whatever he could do, he would do and somehow his steely resolve propelled him. His eyelids fluttered open and he was no longer sure where he was or what had happened but he knew the bright white light that greeted him awake was definitely not … right. It was like opening your eyes underwater. Nothing was clear. The bright light only made it more difficult to see anything but then he could see an outline. A golden creature, luminous and true? Somehow that was the word that came to him. This incredible being before him, this transcendent angel dropped golden tears on his face and then …. the sting. It hurt. It hurt like nothing had ever hurt before.
"Reconstruct," the angel whispered and then the feel of a light breeze ruffling his hair.
Jaced tried his best to fight it. He clawed against it but he lost. The pain was too great and he lost consciousness again.
Jonathan was drawn to the sandy patch of field a distance from the Manor but still part of the estate. It was where Valentine had called on Lilith and struck a bargain. His child would be her child. She would pledge her allegiance to him and she gave him her blood to seal the pact.
He knew now that Valentine admired him, prized him, but also resented him. In the same vein as his deep hatred of Clary, he also blamed Jonathan for turning his one love, his wife, against him. Of course he would never fully admit this since doing so would lead to the truth that Valentine was responsible. Valentine was at fault for all the wretchedness his life had become, the loss of all he had held dear. If Jonathan had not been turned into a demon thing, Jocelyn would have loved the child and would have had no reason to turn from Valentine. All of his efforts afterwards to attain power, glory, preeminence over the Clave was his way to show her what she had given up and when she came crawling back he would generously forgive her … eventually.
Jonathan found all these insights mildly fascinating but in the end none of it was terribly surprising. He had always known Valentine's true nature, the torch that never burnt out for his deserting wife, the way he punished Jonathan for an existence he created. What was more interesting was Valentine's uncertainty surrounding Clary and even Jace. He did not know what they would eventually become. Clary's abilities were viewed as an immediate threat. There were just too many possibilities, unknown variables that she could unlock. She was a wildcard and Valentine had learned from long experience that wildcards were dangerous. As for Jace, well Jonathan wished his father were alive to witness what had befallen Jace. Jace would never make Valentine proud the way Valentine had envisioned. But Jace would join Valentine soon and that was ultimately what his father had always wanted. His son, his golden boy, Jace, by his side. The one thing his father had not twisted and broken apart. Jonathan was surprised to actually feel Valentine's sorrow as he recognized that was precisely what Jonathan had done, torn Valentine's angel apart.
He drew the runes on the ground and created the ashen circle to complete the work his father had started. It was surprising that a man who was always thinking five steps ahead and played these demon rulers like pawns had not possessed the foresight to anticipate his demise at Jonathan's hand. But … it hadn't been until Clary conceived the transformation rune that Jonathan liberated himself. He no longer needed Valentine. He had the secrets Valentine kept hidden from him. He had full access to Valentine's life, his studies. So, he supposed in the end Valentine was right. He should have killed Clary. Except he had been too late and now he lay discarded in his grand library where he had spent so many hours plotting and strategizing.
The circle was done and Jonathan spoke the words. He only had to call Asmodeus' name to safely summon the demon king and solidify Valentine's plans to betray Azazel. Keep him bound in a new set of chains and ensure this world would belong to Valentine … Jonathan … alone. Valentine knew Azazel could not be trusted to keep his destructive sights off this world and Valentine had no intention to share it. He would take the power Azazel granted him and then reveal his other agreement with Asmodeus. Asmodeus did not want to see Azazel free and ascend above him but he cared little for what Valentine wanted or for the populace in this world other than causing any misery he could feed from. And what he truly desired was an immortal life. It would add to his own powers and it always gave him a thrill to extinguish something that had been blessed with an eternity to thrive. Valentine would give Asmodeus the depleted ruins of the angel, Ithuriel, that he had chained up and spent decades experimenting on. Still, Asmodeus would gladly take it. Even Valentine had been reluctant to give it up. As wasted as it was, there was boundless strength from its blood and it could not die … not without help. Regardless, it was worth the trade. Asmodeus would take Ithuriel and he would construct a new set of chains that would bind Azazel and keep him captive, away from Valentine and his world.
Jonathan drew air into his chest and was on the verge of calling Asmodeus when a glance of gold caught his eyes. He turned swiftly and was astonished to see Jace. He was standing tall, his limbs intact and whole but still bloody and beaten. A fire raged in his golden eyes that Jonathan could actually feel burning him.
"How?" Jonathan asked, his eyes wide with wonder.
Jace drew out a sword and was instantaneously standing in front of him, the sharp point pitted into his chest. Jonathan could feel the prick of it and the dampening wetness of blood spreading from the cut.
"Why? Why do you want this? I see what you're doing. What you've written on these runes. You call Asmodeus" Jace asked him. His hands were steady but Jonathan could detect some slight misgiving, preventing him from driving forward and slicing through him.
"It's all I ever knew. It's all I could ever be … and once I have more power than any other living creature on this world, Clary will love me. I will be everything for her," Jonathan spoke almost remorsefully.
Jace's eyes widened fractionally, "Jonathan …"
Jonathan moved fast but strangely he knew Jace could end him with a determined push of his hands and yet he didn't. He stood there, the sword an inch deep into Jonathan's chest, as Jonathan pulled out Phaesphoros and drove the gleaming long sword straight through Jace.
The blaze in Jace's eyes did not die out as Jonathan would have expected. They seemed to smoulder as Jace dropped down, his gaze never leaving Jonathan's face until a final breath rattled out. "Goodbye, brother."
Jonathan watched Jace fall back, Phaesphoros still upright in his chest, and did not move until he felt certain Jace was truly gone. He could not imagine how Jace had put himself back together and why he had not killed Jonathan himself but he would not waste any more time trying to understand the fool. Valentine's lionhearted golden boy was finally gone and had barely put up a fight in the end. But somehow Jonathan did not feel like gloating. It had been too easy and disquieting. It vexed him that he did not understand Jace's motives. For all his talk, in the end, he had decided to lie down and die.
Jonathan turned away from Jace's corpse and moved back into the circle. He swept the white strands of hair away from his face. He needed a moment to compose himself. He would not call Asmodeus in this perplexed and bothered state. And then another shock. Jace leaped down in front of him. Once again he was whole and well. No trace of the gaping wound to his chest. The blood and bruises that had been evident on him just a moment ago had disappeared.
"How? How do you keep doing this?!" Jonathan yelled out in amazement as he skirted back, away from the lighted seraphs that Jace flung down at him.
"The angel is on my side," Jace explained calmly. "It's over now. I don't know how you've disguised yourself in Valentine's body but I know it's you. It's time to die."
Jace was a blur of white and gold as the seraph blades crossed paths through Jonathan's head. It flung away from his body as it fell over, the black red blood pumping out and covering Jace with its spray. Jace stood there, motionless. The rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he breathed and lived.
A portal opened up a hundred yards away and a pack of wolves streamed out.
"Jace!" a familiar voice yelled out in relief.
He could not move his eyes away from Jonathan's headless body but he knew this voice and it slowly drew him away from the grisly sight. He knew it was Izzy when he felt her arms wrap around his neck and lowered him down to her embrace.
"Oh, Jace! You're okay! Thank the Angel. We were so worried!" she sobbed into him. She did not seem to notice or care that he was covered in Jonathan's blood and that it smeared all over her as she held him tightly.
"Clary!" Luke screamed out.
That woke him. That brought him back. She was the only thing that could end this nightmare.
"She's fine. She's at the cottage. She's waiting for me there," Jace spoke up and moved Izzy off him.
"No! No!" Simon's hands gripped his head, practically tearing out his hair.
Jace moved toward them. He didn't know why but he felt as if everything was rolling out in slow motion. He saw Luke fall to the ground, his hands down, his face twisted and anguished. Simon stood shaking, his hands clawed and covering his face, his head moving back and forth in denial. The other wolves surrounded the pair. All eyes were trained on the ground in front of them and they were certainly not looking at Jonathan's remains. Jace turned back to check that Jonathan was indeed dead. He could see that death had transformed Jonathan back to himself. There was no mistaking Jonathan's dismembered and gory head.
He was only a few steps away from the wolf pack when the swirl of long red curls on the ground stopped him. He could move no further. He could see no further than the hair and he knew it was over. Everything was over. At that moment, the shock, the trauma of everything he had just experienced came crashing down on him; sliced apart by Jonathan's heavy sword, the incredible pain when he had been healed and restored, the single minded viciousness that spurred him forward to finally end Jonathan. He could actually feel his heart harden and turn to stone. All of the light and beauty in the world was gone. It was all darkness and blood. There was nothing left of what he had been. She was gone.
There will be an epilogue. Don't be hating. I always meant for it to end this way.
