Jace bent his knees slightly as his feet hit the forest floor, the impact making the blades at his waist bump together and clink like delicate sounding wind chimes. He looked over his shoulder at his father, who was straightening the cuffs of his jacket with a look of cold superiority on his face. Jace ignored the annoyance that stung at him; it would be better if he just kind of faded into the background while his father talked to the warlock.
Valentine strode past his son to the warlock's house and knocked loudly on the wooden door. Jace followed behind him, schooling his expression into a stone like indifference.
The door opened a second later to reveal a stumped little man with graying hair and wide yellow eyes.
"Ah, Master Morgenstern! I was worried something had happened that would cause today's session to be cancelled." Valentine looked down at the warlock, and Jace could see the subtle distaste that tightened his mouth as he spoke to the Downworlder.
"Of course not. We just had a little…" he looked over at Jace with cold eyes, "Delay." Jace looked back at his father, meeting his cold gaze without fear.
Out the corner of his eye, Jace saw the warlock shiver slightly, as if relieved that Valentine was not looking at him like that. Valentine narrowed his eyes in amusement and turned back to him. "I'm sure you understand Feltman. Boys can be difficult." The warlock nodded eagerly.
"Why yes, Master Morgenstern, why I remember…" Jace tuned out as the warlock led them through his small cabin and out into the back field, where a large black pentagram was burned into the ground.
Jace stopped and watched as the warlock began setting up his summoning spell, wondering why he suddenly had such a horrified look on his face.
"…because cutting of their heads with an angelic blade is the only real way to put them down. Now if you want to have some fun with the fang, get them to talk, or even just put them in their place, you can always submerge them in holy water. Of course that does take longer and it requires some patience."
"What do you mean, 'their place?'" the warlock asked with a certain stiffness. Jace groaned inwardly. Valentine smiled.
"Their place below Shadowhunters of course. Vampires need to learn where they stand…as do all the degenerate races." Jace's eyes volleyed back to the warlock and he prayed that the old fool would have enough self preservation left in him to remain silent. Shut up shut up shut up shut up…..
"'Degenerate races'? Do you mean all Downworlders? If you do, I'm afraid I find that incredibly offensive." Oh you idiot…
Valentine's eyes glittered maliciously and his voice dropped to the dangerous tone that Jace was more familiar with than his own reflection.
"Yes. I do in fact mean all Downworlders. Your rightful place is beneath the whims and feet of Shadowhunters. And it's my belief that any Downworlder who cannot remember their place should be put down because they are as good as rabid. Isn't that right, Jace?" The warlock turned to look at him, his face lined with horror and fear.
"Yes, Father. You're absolutely right." Jace said tonelessly. The warlock sputtered and looked between the two of them, as if he couldn't decide which of them he was more afraid of.
Jace took pity on him and decided to take his father's attention off of him.
He took a few steps forward, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his seraph blade. Jace stared down at the warlock, who had stepped back away from him.
"I strongly suggest that you remember your place before my father decides to…" he let his voice trail off before he smiled at him charmingly, "Cancel... our business transaction." The warlock visibly swallowed and backed away, mumbling something about 'devils with angel faces'.
Valentine chuckled and looked over at Jace, his eyes alight with pride and humor.
"You've become quite the little bully, Jace. I do believe you'll give him the most spectacular nightmares."
Jace cast his eyes down as he felt a pang of guilt run through him like a current. His father's pride was a strange and confusing concept to him. While he wanted to please Valentine, a bigger part of him wanted to disappoint him. And yet there was still that insistent small part that wanted his father's pride and seemed to grow like a virus every time he received it.
Jace absolutely loathed admitting it and would do whatever it took to change it…but Jonathan was right; he did want his father's acceptance, even though he knew it was tainted. He did want Valentine to be proud of him, and even as he got exactly what he wanted, he hated it.
The truth of it was staring him in the face: his father's paternal pride was poison, and like all the best poisons that made you feel good, it was addictive and a slow killer with the worst intent.
Jace raised his face and felt his eyes darken with the angst and anger that he felt.
"Oh well." he said to Valentine. "He was wasting my time. I could've killed three demons by now." Valentine smiled.
"Now now, Jace. No need to be modest. You could have killed five by now." he said arrogantly. Jace pulled a seraph blade out of his belt, named it, and stared at the angelic glow before flicking his eyes back to his father.
"Well why don't I go see if I can persuade our warlock to summon a bit faster? That way I can kill seven." Valentine chuckled as his eyes glittered blackly.
"And there's the ruthless killer that I raised, I was wondering when he'd come back." He placed his hand on the back of Jace's neck and pulled his ear towards him while staring at the warlock that had barely begun the summoning ritual. "Go get 'em."
After Jace had killed all the various demons Feltman had summoned for him, Valentine tossed the warlock a bag full of coins. He barely caught it, fumbling with it as Valentine sneered.
"I trust next time our transaction will go a bit smoother?"
The warlock's yellow eyes darted over to Jace, who was cleaning ichor off one of his blades. All throughout Jace's session, the warlock seemed particularly jumpy, as if afraid Jace would go after him next. Feltman nodded as Jace looked up, sensing that he was being watched. The Downworlder hastily looked away and Valentine chuckled mockingly.
"You think he's bad? Be grateful that I take my other son to a warlock with a bit more sense than you." Feltman stared up at him, his eyes wide.
"I'm sure you've fathered some magnificent and feared soldiers." Valentine smiled.
"You've no idea."
Jace's hand tightened, making the rag slip. He felt warmth on his palm and looked down at it. The cut on his palm sizzled and Jace inhaled a quiet breath through his teeth as he reached for his stele. His skin had begun to bubble gently around the cut before Jace had finished the iratze. Seraph blades did odd things to human skin.
Now that he had a chance to work off all of his pent up rage, hate, and frustration, Jace was feeling a bit more relaxed even though his muscles ached with exhaustion. However, he knew his serenity was fickle and likely to last only until his father was bored again. He still cherished his training sessions because it was the only time he could take his blades to the evil things of this world. It was really too bad that he couldn't take them to the evil things of his life…
Jace looked up when his father loudly snapped his fingers at him.
"Come, Jace."
Jace couldn't stop the glare that he threw at him in response. He stood up and walked over to his father, slipping his stele and blade back into his belt as he approached him.
"I'm not a dog." Valentine looked at him.
"Then why do I always feel the need to muzzle you?"
Jace saw the warlock returning with the spell book for their portal home and refrained from saying anything back, knowing that his father would be all the more furious with his disobedience while in the presence of someone he considered to be scum. Instead, he just gave him a baleful look and held his tongue.
Valentine, who had not missed Jace's struggle to keep quiet, smiled condescendingly and patted him hard on the cheek a couple times.
"That's a good boy. Already learning to watch that mouth aren't you?" Jace stared back at him with undisguised hate, which seemed to amuse Valentine greatly.
"Your portal is ready, Master Morgenstern."
Valentine slapped Jace on the back so hard he swore he felt his lungs rattle. "Now that's what I call speedy service. Good work son. Let's go home."
With a sick feeling in his stomach, Jace followed his father to the shimmering portal, wishing that it would take them anywhere but the fancy prison that he had to call home.
