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Chapter 25

Jonathan leaned on the arm of the sofa, his fingers wearily drumming the fabric. It had been hours since Clary left, but he couldn't help rethinking their conversation, playing it over in his head in disbelief.

She called herself his little sister. He had called her Clary. That familiarity that haunted his mind, the memories of a time when they had been close echoed against the more recent horrors. She hadn't been looking to erase the past, but to change the present. To give him a second chance. Atonement. Redemption.

Even Jace was willing. And God forbid he screwed it up, Jace would never let him hurt Clary again.

This could work. Jonathan could barley process the thought. He could live. He could atone. He didn't have to go back to Hell. He could make this work.

Jonathan forced himself to sit up. His body screamed with pain, but he ignored it and stood. What did pain matter? He would heal, unlike the people he killed. He deserved this pain. This was apart of his atonement, apart of his punishment. And really, what was this pain when he was getting a life? A sister?

''You really think it's that simple?''

Jonathan knew that voice. He clenched his fists and turned around slowly, looking at the person leaning against the staircase.

The Seelie Queen smiled at him. As she studied him, he felt a shiver run down his spine. He swallowed the dryness in his mouth before asking, ''How did you find me?''

She gave a light laugh. ''What a stupid question,'' she remarked airily. ''Forget the fact you were my prisoner, your sister rescued you. It's not like I don't where she lives.'' She straightened up, taking a step towards him. ''Now I ask you again: do you really think it is that simple?''

''Is what simple?''

Her smile broke out wider. ''I like to keep an eye on my prisoners,'' she explained, ''and see all their thoughts. You were just thinking about Clary and Jace and about how you can live. Be redeemed. Which prompts my question: do you really think it is that simple?''

Jonathan watched her carefully as she took another lazy step forward. ''It's all so superficial with you,'' she continued. ''You think changing your name or a trip down memory lane is all it takes to change things. That's not how it works, my love. Not how it works at all.'' A sneer crossed her face. ''Especially not with humans.

''They are fickle creatures,'' she went on, tracing her fingers on the kitchen island. ''They will say one thing at one time and then another at a another time. They don't know how to commit. They don't know how to savor anything.'' The Queen let out a laugh as a thought occurred to her. ''Well, perhaps Clary does.''

''What does that mean?'' Jonathan asked in a measured tone. The Queen looked at him hungrily before taking another step closer.

''Does she really strike you as the type to just give a second chance?'' The Queen asked. ''Because if I were her, I would want to cause you as much pain and suffering as possibly. Yes, if I were her, I would want to lure you along like dear Max had; with promises of atonement and redemption. And then, just as you begin to hope for the impossible…'' she leaned in close to Jonathan, whispering in his ear, ''I would want to crush you.''

Jonathan closed his eyes as the Queen backed away again. ''She doesn't want that,'' he protested softly.

The Queen nodded thoughtful. ''Do you know for certain though? Is not she too a Morgenstern? And after all,'' she lowered her voice again, lacing her every word with taunting, ''Do you not deserve it?''

Jonathan glared hard at the Queen. ''Clary isn't like that,'' he repeated.

The Queen laughed. ''Indeed,'' she agreed. ''But I am.''

Her suggestion was suddenly becoming clear to Jonathan. She stepped toward him again, this time eliminating any space between them. She ran her hands up his arms, staring into his face. ''Can you honestly tell me,'' she asked, pressing her forehead against his. ''That you believe this is real?''

Goosebumps broke out on Jonathan's skin as the Queen traced her lips down his cheek. ''Do you really think you could've gotten away from me?'' she breathed on him. ''That any of this could be true, that you could really have a sister who once loved you, and that you could have her back again?''

Tears pricked at Jonathan's eyes as the Seelie Queen dug her nails into his arms. Her hair smelled of wet earth and poisonous lilies. Her lips found his and he could feel them move as she spoke. ''Do you really think you can be redeemed, Demon Child?''

Jonathan was shaking. He could see the Burren, making hundreds of people drink from the Infernal Cup. He could see Jace, fighting him in the woods in Idris, declaring his hatred for him in the kitchen. He could hear Max's last exhale of breath before his body fell to the floor. He saw Clary, her voice angry and defiant as her body trembled while he tore at her clothes. He saw Raphael as he stabbed him through. He smelled the remains of his home as Valentine burned it down, saw his face as he considered whether he would take Jonathan with him. He saw Jocelyn, felt her hesitation as she bent to kiss him one last time. He saw the empty cave in Hell.

Could he be redeemed?

''I already know my fate,'' he replied shakily, some of his old arrogance in his tone. ''So I might as well try.''

There was silence as his response resonated with the Queen. Then quite suddenly, she pushed him back.

Jonathan stumbled, his back hitting the counter top, worsening a bruise already there. ''Trying,'' the Queen laughed. ''How novel.''

With a wave of her hand, the books on the shelves flew off and were thrown at Jonathan. He raised his arms to protect his face but they still pelted him on all sides. ''You think you can try for your sister, while your body attempts to function without the demon blood that has sustained it for years.'' Jonathan managed to grab a book out of the air and throw it at the Queen, but simply by snapping her fingers she made it vanish.

Jonathan made to move into the kitchen, his instincts urging him to find a knife, anything, something. The Queen clenched a fist. All the closed cabinets rattled. Jonathan yanked at a drawer but it would not budge. The Queen's fingers snapped again and the shelf of dishes came crashing down, leaving Jonathan in a rain of broken glass. He retreated out of the kitchen, tripping over a book and falling to the floor. He managed to catch himself on his hand and stand up again, but not before he felt something in his wrist give out.

The next thing she hurled at him was the coffee table. Jonathan evaded it quickly just in time for it to hit the wall, splintering into pieces. Jonathan made to grab a plank of the wood, but his body seized with pain. He was still recovering from the last fight and his injuries besides. He couldn't do this.

The Queen knew this and laughed again as she retrieved the wood Jonathan had wanted. She picked it up and set her fingers alight with fire magic, watching Jonathan's face as she burned the only makeshift weapon in sight. ''What, no wings this time, my love?'' With glee she threw the embers in his direction.

They landed on his skin and made him gasp. Before he could recover himself the Queen flicked her hand again and he went backward, falling onto the staircase and cracking his head against a step. Through watery vision, Jonathan watched the Queen meander over to him, her head cocked to the side as she looked at him.

''You know,'' she began in a conversational tone as she placed her hands on the steps on either side of his head. ''I thought having you in my prisons would be the best form of revenge.'' Jonathan made to kick her, but with an incline of her head he suddenly froze. She hooked her legs around him, sitting on top of him. ''But now,'' she purred, taking an index finger and stroking his cheek. ''Now I know what would be best.

''You think you might as well try for redemption? That since you have already seen Hell, you have nothing to lose? Well, you shall see how wrong you are. Hell is a sentence. It is an answer to the question. What you are striving for is eternal Purgatory. You will strive to be good, strive to redeem yourself, but you shall see that you will always fall short of the mark. It will never be enough. You will never be enough. Not fully human, not fully demon- you will forever be caught between Heaven and Hell. So I will leave you to strive, my love. Strive until your very being is screaming for it all to stop.''

She bent her head close to him. ''And when you do,'' she whispered. ''I will laugh with joy.''

She kissed him then, but not a kiss of love or desire. It was the kiss of an enemy, a kiss of ownership. Jonathan could feel her hatred for him in the kiss. Her taunting words couldn't have said her thoughts anymore elegantly. I own you. I beat you. I destroyed you.

The Queen straightened up slowly, taking her fingers from Jonathan's cheeks and raking them down his neck. ''Remember this,'' she said. ''Remember this moment.''

She got up then, and Jonathan watched her go without moving. Her poise and air was a stark contrast to the trashed room. She walked away with the confidence she had done her job. She had planted the seed for her enemy's destruction, bringing justice for the havoc he had wrecked on her kingdom. And she had all of eternity to watch him fall.

….

Jonathan had tried to get off the stairs, but all he had managed was to climb weakly up another step. He laid there now, trying to focus on his breathing and not drown in the pain flooding his mind.

Any recovery he had made was gone from the Queen's attack. His body hurt as much as it had when he had been in her prisons. And his chest- he couldn't quite catch his breath. He wondered if it was from the demon blood or if he was going into shock.

'Does your sister strike you as the type to just give out second chances?'

'Is not she too a Morgenstern? After all, don't you deserve it?'

'Do you really think you can be redeemed, Demon Child?'

'Do you really think any of this is real?'

Jonathan closed his eyes, his breaths hitching. The world seemed to be spinning. He would not listen to the Queen. She wanted him to doubt, wanted him to break. He would not listen, he would not listen…

….

Time seemed to fade in and out like the world. One second afternoon light filled the room, then evening, then the moon showed it's face. Jonathan didn't move through all of it. He couldn't. There was nowhere to go, no one to call. He hadn't wanted to play games. And this was a game. The Queen's game. Even if this all was real, it was still her game. Her game to watch him try and be something he couldn't, something he never could be. He didn't want to play games.

….

Jonathan tasted blood in his mouth. His back felt wet again, no doubt old wounds reopened. He was losing blood, more blood then he had to give. He was going to die. He would die here, on these steps. Back to Hell, back to his eternal answer. He would never be redeemed, never reach redemption, But at least he remembered…

Clary ran towards him, her pigtails flying behind her. She threw her arms around him. ''I haven't seen you in forever! How are you here?''

Jonathan stumbled back as he wrapped his arms awkwardly around her. The sight of his little sister always made something inside him give, as if a part of him he hadn't realized was frozen suddenly melted. He smiled at her pouting face as she waited for an explanation. ''Had some free time,'' he said simply. ''After all, didn't you say birthdays were illegal to miss?''

Clary grinned widely and clasped her hands. ''What are we going to do?''

''Well, you are eleven now. I can't give you the proper mark cause your mother will probably notice that. But there are other marks…''

They had several hours before Clary would have to go home. He showed her healing runes, rune to make her eyesight sharper, and a rune to make her immune to fire. They practiced signs, for Shadowhunters never knew when they might have to communicate in secret. Clary pelted him with questions about Downworlders and demons, her hunger for knowledge of the Shadow World barely contained.

As the world faded out again, Jonathan formed one last thought. At least I remembered. Even if it's not real, at least I remembered…