Chapter 11 and 12 were posted pretty close to each other. Make sure you didn't skip one XD
The rest of the day passed in a sort of haze. Clary happily strode through the city sightseeing, but in the back of her mind Jonathan's strange threat repeated over and over. She asked him about it once more while they strode through the interior of an old, gothic church, but he simply smiled and changed the subject. That did little to fill her with comfort, so she resigned herself to ignore it as best she could and focus on her day on the town. Jonathan's unnerving words aside, she was truly enjoying herself. The city was beautiful, the architecture stunning. Several times she found herself lamenting that she hadn't thought to bring a sketch pad to capture some of her favorite spots. She decided that when they returned to the apartment, she would lock herself in Valentine's study and draw to her heart's content. That at least might keep her away from any ill intentions the demon boy might have for her.
The sun was just beginning to set now. Clary and Jonathan sat on a park bench, taking it in with idle conversation. She was careful to keep it light after their interesting lunch, and he seemed happy enough to simply spend time with her when they weren't arguing. If she was being honest, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. He told her about the history behind several of the older cathedrals. Talked at length about the various artists and musicians who had once resided around the Piazza del Duomo. He surprised her with his knowledge of history and art, even managed to make her laugh throughout the day, which was a shock in itself.
In the time that she had known him, she'd forgotten that the demon could be charming. Part of her resented the reminder, while the other mourned the simple days when she had first met him. When he had played the part of Sébastien Verlac, funny and charming, but even that was a memory colored by darkness. Knowing the boy he impersonated was long dead by his hand didn't help to quell her quiet sadness. Who would he have been if not for Valentine's abuse and Jocelyn's neglect? The question turned in her mind, even while she tried to remind herself it was a pointless one. Jonathan was who he was, and no amount of wishing could ever burn away the darkness that life and their father's experimentation had burned into his soul.
And yet...
Clary couldn't deny the enjoyment of a day filled with little grief, and beautiful scenery. She couldn't deny that somewhere inside the young man guiding her so expertly through the wonderful city, was a person she had forgotten existed. A person she could almost admit she would like to see more of.
"Are you tired?" Jonathan asked, watching the sun paint a wash of color across the park before them. He sat with his arms outstretched along the back of the bench behind her, but he hadn't tried to hold her or anything else devious, so she allowed it. She didn't want to break the spell of the day, the simple pleasure of it all.
"Not really." Her eyes moved briefly to the blond beside her. His hair caught the fading light, his black eyes reflecting the final golden glow of the sunset. She turned back to the park with a sigh. "I'm not ready to go back yet. This has all been...very nice."
It was difficult to admit, but in light of their pleasant day in Milan, she figured it didn't hurt to give him the credit he deserved. She had needed this brief escape. Needed a break from the tumultuous life she knew they would eventually be forced to return to. Even if the apartment was cloaked, Valentine would eventually find them. She didn't want to think about what would happen when that time came. Strangely enough, she didn't think Jonathan wanted it either. This strange freedom was something they both needed, something even he, the favorite son, was often denied.
"We don't have to go back yet," Jonathan shrugged casting her a short glance. "There are plenty of sights fit for evening viewing, or some more modern entertainments if that's what you'd prefer."
Clary turned to him with a curious smile. "Such as?"
"There are clubs all over the city. We could go dancing." His eyes shifted suddenly down to her thigh, and his smile fell just a bit. "Unless you don't feel up for it."
At the reminder of his darker inclinations, Clary felt the spell of their day begin to fade. Her eyes fell to the grass and she fiddled with the hem of her silk blouse. Suddenly the arm resting behind her seemed oppressively close. She shifted slightly on the bench, leaning forward just a bit to escape it. And just like that her mood was falling again. She wanted nothing more than to forget the past. forget the threat he posed to her soul. She just wanted to forget. To live in a world where her family was not the scourge of the downworld, nor the bootheel on the necks of all Shadowhunters still loyal to their original cause.
"Actually, I think that's a great idea." She looked at him through the curtain of her hair. "I'm assuming these places would serve alcohol?"
Jonathan arched a brow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You want me to get you drunk?"
"Maybe a little," she shrugged sheepishly. Drinking sounded like the perfect way to forget for another few hours. At the very least she could allow herself a tiny bit of fun before they returned to her newest prison. The young man beside her laughed softly, dragging himself up from the bench and offering her his hand.
"If that's your choice, I won't deny you the opportunity."
"How generous of you," she teased half-heartedly.
Jonathan chuckled, pulling her to her feet gently. "It's been said I can be quite generous, in a number of ways."
His eyebrows wiggled suggestively and Clary couldn't help rolling her eyes with a scoff. She pulled her hand from his and started down the cobbled path out of the park. He followed quickly behind, falling into step beside her.
"Why are you like this?" She only half expected an answer. He shrugged a shoulder.
"How much time do you have? Maybe you could take notes."
"Just take me to the land of booze please, and stop trying to flirt with me."
"I can promise one of those things," he laughed softly at her irritated groan and they moved out of the park to get a cab.
Clary had never been to a club outside of NYC. Part of her had expected it to be different in some obvious way, but other than the architecture, nothing really changed. They arrived a little after sunset to a line that stretched the length of the sidewalk. For a moment Clary felt chest fallen at the idea of waiting in the line for what might be hours. That wasn't her idea of worth it. Jonathan however surprised her by avoiding the line entirely. He lead her straight passed the stream of people, ignoring the irritated looks they were getting along the way. When they reached the bouncer, Clary felt a small spike of anxiety at the thought of so blatantly cutting in front of all those people. It seemed like such a typically selfish American thing to do. Yet when Jonathan leaned in to speak to the bouncer over the thump of bass coming from inside, the man smiled and clapped his hand with the young man's in a less than subtle exchange. Jonathan grinned back at her, slipping his arm around the small of her back to usher her inside.
"Did you just pay that guy off?" She asked, raising her voice over the music as they moved down a dimly lit hallway that grew louder with each step.
"What, have you never gone clubbing in New York? That's how it works." He laughed, then waved it off. "Don't worry. He only thinks I did."
Clary was supremely confused by this statement. "Thinks?" She questioned with a slight frown. Jonathan shrugged.
"Little trick I learned from the Fae queen. Nothing fancy."
The name drop was not lost on her, nor the implication that he was close enough to that terrifying creature for her to show him magic. Then of course there was the idea that he was doing fairy magic at all, an alarming and nearly unbelievable concept in itself. A thousand new questions rose in her mind, but before she could begin the interrogation, they stepped into the main room of the club and she was briefly drown in the swell of music.
Heavy bass pulsed throughout the large room and a swell of bodies bobbed and writhed to the music. The lights were dim, replaced by colorful lasers that swirled and danced along with the beat. Jonathan's hand pressed gently against the small of her back again and she was guided quickly through the throng of dancers to the colorfully lit bar. Several bartenders hurried around, filling orders as quickly as they could for those gathered close. This time, Jonathan pulled out a real bill and waved it to get one of their attentions.
"So what are you having?" He asked over the music. It wasn't so loud in here that they couldn't hear over the music, but they had to raise their voices just below a shout. Clary scanned the back wall of shelves and bottles, realizing she actually had no idea.
"Any suggestions?"
"Sweet or burning?" He asked with a smirk.
"Is there a both option?"
He laughed, nearly drown out by the next pulse of bass and leaned in to speak to the bartender standing in front of them. The man glanced at her briefly, then shrugged and turned to grab a glass and a couple of shot glasses. He poured something amber into the glass, sliding it to Jonathan then grabbed another bottle with a blue liquid and filled the shots. As he passed them over Clary eyed it in suspicion.
"Why is it glowing like that?"
Jonathan leaned in, his shoulder pressing against hers and replied in her ear. She could hear him better, but the brief contact made her shoulder warm and a spark of something strange traveled down to swirl into her stomach. She ignored the sensation pointedly.
"Couple of downworlders work here. Ask the right questions and they give you the special stuff."
Her eyes moved along the bar to each employee and she leaned in toward Jonathan.
"Aren't they going to be nervous if they find out what we are?" She hadn't seen a downworlder of any kind in New York. Part of her was surprised they would be willing to show themselves anywhere with the reign of Valentine so widely spread. It was a dangerous time to be anything other than mundane these days. Jonathan shrugged, sipping at his amber drink. which by the strong smell she guessed was bourbon, and waved away her fear.
"Valentine hasn't taken everything yet. There are still some parts of the world where downworlders can roam free of fear. I'm not sure how much longer that will last at the rate he's going, but for now they have nothing to worry about." He downed the rest of his drink, pushing the glass back across the bartop and nodded pointedly to her untouched shot, grabbing the other. "So princess? You're the one who wanted to get drunk. Have at it."
Clary frowned at him and snatched the shot. "I'm not a princess," she grumbled and downed it. The moment the faintly glowing liquid touched her tongue, she sputtered, shaking her head. Beside her Jonathan laughed again and took his own, seemingly unaffected by the surprisingly strong taste. She'd expected something fruity, but the stuff tasted like sweetened flowers and straight grain alcohol. It burned its way down her chest in a pleasant enough way, settling as a warmth that spread through her almost instantly. While Jonathan pushed the shot glasses back across the bar, the man who'd served them returned with another glass. This time it was something red that looked relatively normal. He passed it to her and took the empty glasses.
"Enjoy," he said simply before disappearing again. Clary turned the glass to inspect it a moment before looking at Jonathan in question. He smirked, leaning in to speak to her again.
"It's smoother than the other. Better for sipping."
She gave it one last hard look before taking an experimental sip. Shockingly he was right. It tasted like berries with only the hint of an aftertaste. Clary released a soft sound of approval then took another sip. Beside her Jonathan was still smiling, watching her drink so she looked out over the crowd and tilted her head.
"Now what?"
"Now you order whatever else you want while I run to the men's room. Not a lot of places to pee in old churches." He looked briefly out over the throng of dancers before bending back in to speak to her again. "After that I guess you can decide whether you're up for dancing or you want to grab a table." He motioned to the outer walls along the large room. Every few feet there was an alcove with a table, shielded mostly from the rest of the room by darkness. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and slipped off into the crowd, disappearing almost as quickly as he left.
Clary eyed the wave of dancers. As curious as she was to see the demon dancing, she wasn't entirely sure it was the best of ideas. The others in the crowd all writhed and swayed together in a thumping mass. If she decided on that, it was more than likely that she'd be pressed against him too close for comfort. She wasn't about to bump and grind against a demon that wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of such a situation. Neither was she particularly thrilled by the idea of slipping into one of the darkened alcoves with the same perverted creature. Best to stay here at the bar as long as possible, where she was relatively safe from any advances he might plan on making. She sighed at the thought, figuring the dance floor would be safest in the long run and hailed the bartender again. Jonathan had started a tab, she was informed, and she quickly ordered two more of the same blue shots he'd gotten earlier, downing them both before she returned to her red drink and turned to watch the dancers.
"It's the artist from America!"
The sudden voice made her jump, turning to find the dark haired waiter from the cafe. Her eyes moved briskly across the room for signs of blond hair, but when she saw nothing, she gave the man a tentative wave as he moved up beside her. He'd abandoned the waiting uniform for a crisp, brown shirt and pale jeans. She was pleasantly surprised by how much better he looked outside of the cafe, but that could have just as easily been the dim lights, or more than likely the alcohol.
"Generally I go by Clary," she smiled, sipping at her drink. Sadly it was almost gone. The waiter held up a placating hand and smiled brightly.
"My apologies Clary. Since we didn't get the chance before, my name is Matteo. It's nice to officially meet you."
She smiled back finishing off her drink and pushing it across the bar top. Matteo watched it a moment before leaning his elbows against the edge of the bar beside her.
"So where's your angry friend?"
"Around." She gestured vaguely at the room. "He'll be back at some point." Making that clear seemed to be a good idea, for his safety as much as anything. The waiter only grinned.
"He left you alone? Not such a good guide after all hmm?"
Clary shrugged. The warmth of the alcohol had started the spread a little faster. She wondered at the strength of Jonathan's mysterious blue shots, but decided not to care. She'd wanted to be drunk. Besides, she was suddenly distracted by the blueness of Matteo's eyes.
"He was surprisingly knowledgeable actually. Plus, you know, booze." She nodded to her empty glass as the bartender came to collect it and Matteo chuckled. He motioned to the man briefly, pointing at Clary and himself, then the glass she had just emptied. The man paused only briefly, glancing between them before his eyes settled on Clary. He seemed to be asking if he should be serving this mundane the strange liquor, but she shrugged. At the moment, she was happy enough to drink more, even if her head was slightly fuzzy around the edges. Whatever the stuff was, it kicked in quickly. The bartender shrugged back, going to fix their drinks and bring them over. Beside her, Matteo shifted to rest his hip against the bar, facing her and none too subtly moving just a hair closer. He said something as she grabbed her newest drink, but she didn't catch it.
"What's that?"
He leaned in, much the way Jonathan had and spoke closer to her ear. "So while you're waiting for your friend, do you want to dance?"
She laughed softly over the rim of her cup, raising her eyebrows. "You're not afraid to go for it are you?"
He shrugged with a laugh of his own, leaning just a breath closer until she could smell the scent of his cologne. It was a nice smell, if a little strong.
"Beautiful artists from America don't come to Milano every day. I figure I might as well take the chance while you're here, before your friend sweeps you away."
She laughed again. Honestly she was starting to feel a little giggley, not that she minded. She took another sip of her drink and looked him over once more. He was handsome, she thought. Perhaps not in that unearthly way Jonathan was, but still handsome. She liked his eyes. And why did it matter that Jonathan was attractive? She scolded herself internally for the comparison. It was nice to be flirted with by a regular man. Nice to feel wanted without the guilt and shame. Nice to feel safe and right in flirting back. So Jonathan would be irritated that she disappeared from the bar. He didn't own her, and he certainly wasn't supposed to have a say in the men in her life. This wasn't the middle ages where older siblings controlled the lives of the younger. And wasn't this supposed to be her day to enjoy herself? Her day to forget her troubles? Clary smiled back at the pretty waiter and downed the rest of her drink in two gulps, nodding to the dance floor. Matteo finished his just as quickly, grinning from ear to ear.
They made their way into the throng of dancers, finding a relatively open place where they weren't smashed together completely. By now Clary felt warm and giddy. The troubles of her life could wait a few more hours. Matteo's hands found her hips without hesitation, pulling her flush against his body in a shockingly warm embrace. She stilled for only a moment before a giggle bubbled up out of her chest and she let her hands rest on his shoulders. As they moved to the pounding beat she found herself slipping her arm around the back of his neck, as much for balance as to keep up with him. Her thigh protested only slightly now, but she bet that was the alcohol. God she'd missed dancing. Missed simple pleasures. She laughed happily, enjoying the pulses of bass that thumped through her body, the bubbling joy that came from her strange drinks, the warmth of a body she could touch without hating herself. So they danced and Clary found that she couldn't bring herself to care about the world around her, not now. Not when his eyes were so blue and she was so desperate for companionship, she hadn't even realized she needed this.
She didn't know how many songs passed, but she laughed and danced and held on to the dark haired man that couldn't know how complicated her life was. She danced until he went still, his eyes shifting up over her shoulder for a few moments. She couldn't quite make out his expression in the dark, but his brows seemed to tug down slightly before all too suddenly he stepped back.
"I'm going to go get another drink. Meet you here?" He smiled slightly, glancing over her shoulder again, but before she could answer he'd slipped back into the sea of people. Even in her drunken state, she realized he wasn't heading in the direction of the bar. Frowning, she turned to look behind her, searching for whatever had chased him away and went still when she spotted the platinum blond hair, shifting colors with the lazer show. Clary cursed inwardly, determined to ignore whatever ridiculous jealousy Jonathan approached with, except he wasn't walking towards her. Instead she watched him shifting through the crowd as if he didn't even see her. She frowned as he passed, too far away and separated by too many people to get his attention. That was on something else.
Something twisted in her gut, a feeling of dread she couldn't quite name until the haze of her drunkenness ebbed just long enough to recognize the way he was moving. Quick and boneless as a snake, shifting through the mass of bodies almost as easily as one would through water. His expression was an impassive mask, detatched almost, but lazer focused on something further along in the crowd. Again her gut twisted and she turned immediately to search for the dark haired man who had just been holding her. God she was stupid. God this alcohol was strong.
Clary pushed her way deeper into the crowd. She didn't care that she was knocking into others, nor did she apologize as she raced toward the demon stalking the other man. The predatory way he moved filled her with dread and she knew in her gut that if she didn't make it to him first things could get very ugly. Unfortunately Jonathan made moving through the crowd seem much easier than it actually was. It took what felt like ever to push her way across the crowded club, longer to find the blond head she was searching for once she'd made it. She caught sight of him only briefly, a flash of pale hair as it disappeared behind a swinging door. Clary cursed and raced toward the side exit, wishing suddenly that she hadn't drank so much. Her body felt sluggish and uncoordinated. Her thigh was protesting at such extreme use. It took too long to make to to the exit, but she barreled through the door after another minute. Her heart was in her throat now, the blood rushing through her ears so loudly she almost couldn't make out the words echoing down the alley she'd exploded into. She heard the distinctive sound of flesh connecting with solid flesh and turned to find them further down the alley. Matteo had his hands up, lip bleeding, and backing away from the demon that watched him with an emptiness that made even Clary's heart pound.
"It was just dancing man. What are you crazy?" Matteo closed his fist swinging toward the man that stalked him deeper into the alley. That was a mistake. Jonathan dodged the blow, catching his wrist and twisting it until Matteo cursed in Italian. Clary knew that word at least. She dashed toward the pair with a curse of her own as Matteo tried to claw at Jonathan with his other hand. It was batted away and the demon's hand flashed out in the next second to close around his throat, slamming him back against the orange painted plaster of the alley wall so hard Matteo went momentarily limp.
"Stop!" Clary cried, still too far to catch him. Both men ignored her and Matteo let out another curse.
"Jesus man, it's not my fault you're girlfriend's a slut!"
That was mistake number two. The impassive silence that Jonathan had been using to beat the poor guy slipped suddenly. His black eyes narrowed and the tension in his body tightened like a wire. Matteo gagged loudly, his eyes going wide as he was suddenly lifted off his feet by his neck, his shoes scraping the cobblestone beneath them. Jonathan was taller then him by only a couple inches, but it was enough to hold him up where the man couldn't reach the ground. She watched the fear in Matteo's eyes as he took in the strength of the demon pinning him to the wall and screamed again for Jonathan to stop as she stumbled to a stop beside him. All his focus was directed at the other man. It was like he couldn't even hear her. That or more likely he was ignoring her to vent his rage. Something flashed in the light at Jonathan's side and she saw with a newfound terror the blade he'd pulled from some unknown place into his free hand. Matteo saw it too and tried to pry the demon's fingers from his throat, but there was no stopping him. He was helpless as a child under Jonathan's superior inhuman strength.
"Jonathan no!" Clary cried grabbing the arm with the knife before it could fly forward into its mark. She barely managed to stop it and that she assumed was only because his black eyes finally turned to her. For just a moment, he seemed to look through her, but as recognition settled in, the hatred in his expression dimmed just a little and he glanced down at the arm she was grabbing at with both hands.
"What the hell are you doing?" She demanded in a winded rasp. His black eyes shifted back to the man dangling from his other hand.
"Removing a parasite," was all he said, but the hollow quality of his voice made her heart pound all the more furiously in her chest.
"Jonathan you can't just...why do you have a knife?"
"I always have a knife," he shrugged.
"Stop it! Please? You can't just kill a man for dancing with me!"
He tilted his head to regard the mundane that was swiftly turning blue against the wall. "What about for calling you a whore?"
"That either!" She cried, tugging again at the arm with the knife, but it was like trying to bend steel. "It's over ok? Just take me home. Please. Let him go and take me home. We'll never see him again."
He gave a cold smile, staring into Matteo's eyes. "That was the idea."
Clary didn't know what else to do. The rage consuming him made him illogical. She couldn't beat him off of the man without risking a snapped neck to the poor man or the blade finding its place somewhere in his person. She released his arm instead in a last ditch effort to press in closer to him, grabbing the sides of his face instead and turning it towards her. Her lips pressed desperately into his, until she felt the shock loosen his muscles just a breath. When she pulled back she searched his confused face a moment knowing she finally had his attention.
"Please just take me home, ok? Let him go before you do something I can never forgive you for."
Her heart hammered against her ribs in the silence that followed. Jonathan searched her eyes, his expression going cold again. His jaw clenched a moment and he cursed, but this time when she reached for the knife, he let it slip from his fingers. Matteo dropped to the cobblestone at Jonathan's feet choking loudly, and the demon stared hatefully down at him. Clary slipped the knife into the back of her jeans beneath her shirt as he spoke over the coughing man.
"She just saved your life," he grit out. "You should thank her."
Matteo's bloodshot blue eyes lifted to Clary and he rasped out a reply.
"Louder," Jonathan snapped and the terrified man repeated the words in a hoarse voice. Clary grabbed the demon's arm again, trying to tug him away from the abused man, but he didn't budge. Instead he slipped from her grasp to sink into a crouch. His hand flashing out to grab a fistful of brown hair and tug him closer. He bent in, speaking into his ear in a voice too quiet for Clary to make out. She watched Matteo go pale in the next moment and a tear slipped down from the corner of his eye to glint in the lamplit alley. Jonathan let him go then, standing up and taking a blessed step back, while Clary looked up and down the alley for any onlookers. Thankfully the commotion hadn't drawn any attention thus far, and she thanked the hard thump of bass filtering out through the doors out front. She was feeling much more sober now. Fear was a powerful thing, and she knew that Matteo would agree with her.
"We need to go," she insisted, thankful that Jonathan nodded, even if he was still staring down at the man like a piece of offensive trash. "Now."
The demon took a deep breath, nodded again and his arm slipped around her waist to tug her up against his side. She opened her mouth to speak but he whispered a strange couple of words, lifting his free hand up to gaze down at a silver ring around his middle finger. The word seemed to warp and in the next moment she felt herself shifting through that same weightless space that surrounded the apartment. When she blinked, they were inside the living room.
"What the hell was that?" She asked in shock, still clutching at him because the teleportation coupled with her buzz was making her head spin. Jonathan glanced down at the ring, waving his hand dismissively.
"A gift from our father." He said before his attention moved to her and he searched her face with and impassive stare that made her blood run cold. The arm he'd wrapped around her was still locked like a steel cage, though she tried to take a step back.
"Now," he said softly, looking into her eyes. His black stare was cold. "How are we going to deal with you?"