The valley seemed like a good place for her to die. It was a lovely place, illuminated by the moon. The little river that cut through the valley floor seemed serene. Maybe she would float away in it.
In its loveliness, there was her despair.
And there, she thought wistfully, is home.
It was where it always had been. The cottage, small and tucked under a willow tree.
She was thankful for the jacket, drawing it close as another cool breeze washed over them.
"Come on." Jace got down from the horse and he gently pulled her down. He tied the horse to a tree. She watched him repeat the tracking rune on his hand, tightly holding the bloody thread in his fist. His eyes opened with frustration and he did it again, only with his left hand. "Damn it." He muttered.
She raised her eyebrows. "What is it?"
"I can't see anything. Only darkness."
How fitting, she thought, Jonathan is the darkness.
He waved his arm in the air angrily, his fist flying open. They watched as the breeze picked the thread from his open hand and carried it away.
"Great." Jace growled. "Just great. Now what are we going to do?"
"Jace." She said his name softly, her word lost in the breeze. "I know where we are."
He looked over at her, confused and maybe a little surprised. "You do?"
She nodded, just once. "The cottage where I grew up?" She looked back over the valley, her eyes immediately finding the small house. "That's it."
His hand found hers. He squeezed it lightly. "If you want, I can go look around. You don't have to go in."
"Yeah, I do." She resigned. She had hoped that she would never have to step foot in that place again, not after the last time. "I had just hoped you'd never have to see it."
He let her hand go, producing his 'borrowed' stele once again. "I'll do you if you do me." Even in the darkness, she saw the glimmer in his eyes. They took turns Marking each other, agreeing which temporary runes would be most useful. In the end, they had Marked for swiftness, silence, and sure-footing.
Jace pocketed Alec's stele and she put her own back in the little band around her bicep. They made their way in silence. The way down the ridge was painful and steep. Both of them fell countless times. Her hands were soon riddled with scrapes from the loose gravel of the ridge.
They both knelt at the edge of the river, washing their hands. She looked at him, the moonlight casting a fair glow over his golden curls. There was the possibility that Jonathan was inside the cottage. There was the possibility that she'd have to tell Jace the truth. However, Valentine could be the one waiting for them. Her death could be on the other side of the door.
Maybe a part of her had always known she would die in the cottage. The part of her that had wanted to die within the Malachi Configuration.
"Ready?" Jace was standing, looking back at the house with ill-regard.
She didn't reply, she only got to her feet and started walking towards the house. Grey and white stone blended together. The blue paint on the shutters had long since began to peel.
She looked over. Jace was peering through one of the windows. A movement above distracted her and she looked up.
A raven was stretched out in the sky. Dread filled her stomach.
Hugin.
She grabbed Jace and pulled him under the security of the willow tree. She put a finger to her lips and motioned for him to look up. Above them, Hugin was flying around, searching. No doubt, he had already spotted them.
"We're being watched." She whispered. "Hugin has always been Father's spy."
They watched the raven flew down and perched onto one of the windowsills. After a few moments, Hugin called out and flew off.
"Good. He can lead us to him." Jace said. Before she could protest, Jace had grabbed her hand and was pulling her into the night.
"Do you think Luke's plan worked?" She asked Jace quietly.
Hugin flew above them, wavering through the sky in lazy circles. Sometimes, he would pass over the moon and cast a shadow over them.
At least it isn't Munin, she reassured herself.
"I hope it did, but you and I both know how the Clave can be. They would rather surrender than fight alongside Downworlders."
She agreed. "I just wished they would realize that they hate Valentine more than they distrust Downworlders. And that if they hand our future over to him, he'll kill us all." They didn't dare speak above a low whisper, in fear of Hugin hearing them.
Next to them, the small river that cut through the valley bed ran quietly. Hugin, wherever he was going, was following the path of the river. She watched the raven disappear into crevice in the wall of the valley.
By the time they made it to the edge of the valley, she was covered in sweat and her knees ached from half-crouching her way through.
"Where'd he go?" Jace's voice was barely audible.
She looked up. If they lost Hugin, they were screwed. For a moment, the sky was clear. All she saw was the moon hanging high in the sky. Hugin appeared once more, a large darkness crossing in front of the moon. The raven flew down, disappearing into a hole in the rocky wall.
Jace's hand closed around hers and he took off running after the bird. It took her a second to catch up to his pace. They stopped as they got to the wall. Beyond the hole, it expanded out into what seemed like a cove.
Jace took out his witchlight stone. With an assuring squeeze to her hand, they stepped in. Just a couple feet inside the mouth, the light extinguished and the only source of light was the faint whitish glow of Jace's witchlight stone.
She wondered just for a second if stepping through the wall had actually brought them to the other side of the valley and not into a small cove. Something above them glittered wondrously, she had never seen the stars shine so bright before. It took a second look to realize that it wasn't the stars of the night sky, rather it was mica deposits sparkling within the rocks.
"Beautiful." She breathed. She looked over at Jace, surprised to see he was already looking at her. "What?" She murmured.
Something glinted in his eyes, but he said nothing. He had opened his mouth, as if there were words he wanted to say, but then closed it promptly and looked ahead of them.
The entrance to what seemed like the cove had led them to a narrow space within the wall. Ahead of them were two tunnels, both shrouded in darkness.
"Which one?" Jace asked her.
Neither of them had seen which tunnel Hugin had chosen. She let her hand fall from his and stepped forward until she was standing in front of the tunnel furthest right. Jace chose the tunnel furthest left.
From her tunnel, she heard nothing. If darkness had a sound, she had heard it from her own. "Voices." Jace said, pointed to his tunnel.
"Out of the dark we came and into the dark we go." She mimicked her own words from so long ago.
Half a smile graced his face. "Haggard, really?"
She smiled back, taking the steps to join him at the mouth of his tunnel. "I found it fitting for our situation."
Jace dimmed his witchlight stone to the point where it only provided the lowest necessary lighting they needed. "We aren't yet in my idea of a situation."
"Give it time." She retorted.
Together, they stepped once more into the dark.
Her head felt like it was spinning. Between the twists and curves of the tunnel and the raw stench of the area, nausea had been rolling around her stomach.
She didn't know how long she and Jace had spent crawling in the tunnel until it opened into a chamber. Stalactites grew from the ceiling, hanging down on them like swords. Opposite, stalagmites grew up from the smoothed floor, almost in a circular pattern around the edge of the chamber. Patterns were carved into the stone of the floor.
A huge quartz stalagmite was in the center of the chamber. The outer sides of the growth were translucent and the middle of the stalagmite was tinged red from…something. There was something moving within the stalagmite.
Her stomach rolled.
Light filtered down into the chamber from a hole in the ceiling. Somewhere, she heard Hugin's caw.
Jace ducked to the left and she to the right, both hiding behind stalagmites. She saw Jace extinguish his witchlight. She lifted her head, peering around the stalagmite in time to see two tall figures come from the shadows across the chamber. They seemed to be engaged in a quiet conversation, walking to the middle of the chamber.
Her stomach dropped and she ducked back down.
Her brother and father.
Valentine had not changed. He was still large and broad. Black gear covered his body, the Angel's Sword on his back. Weapons were strung on a belt along his waist. Some of them, she realized, were not proper Shadowhunter weapons. Knives used for hunting and skinning things. Knowing the things she knew, she wasn't surprised. Only disgusted.
Jonathan looked like his true self, the way she remembered him. He looked slim and small standing next to their father, dressed in his own gear. His hair was no longer the dyed black he had used to impersonate Sebastian. It was the same fair blonde, almost white, as her own hair. A sword hung at his side and she instinctively reached back to make sure Eosphoros was still with her.
If Jace hadn't recognized the resemblance before, surely he would then. Jonathan and Eliza were clearly twins. There were too many similarities between them. The hair, the eye shape, the nose, the cheekbones.
Hugin swooped down from above and landed gracefully on Valentine's shoulder. Valentine regarding whatever Jonathan was saying, nodding thoughtfully while running his hand along Hugin's feathers.
"Has there been word from the city?" Jonathan asked. Hugin took off from Valentine's shoulder, circling into the air.
"Nothing of importance." Valentine replied. His voice was smooth and unbothered. He hadn't heard of surrender and he hadn't heard of a fight. They were still in the middle of a waiting game, thousands of lives at stake. "I do know that the Clave has begun to ally itself with whatever Downworlders Lucian has brought forth."
She and Jace looked at each other. Her heart surged. Finally, the Clave had made the right choice.
"Malachi assured us of otherwise." Jonathan stated. Something in his words felt forced. Valentine, his words growing agitated, said that Malachi had failed them. Jonathan reached, placing his hand on their father's shoulder. "You're upset." Jonathan observed. There was a range of closeness in his words that only he held with his father.
"Indeed." Valentine said. "The Clave is more corroded than I had realized. The corruption has spread from the Lightwoods, as I so feared. I had hoped that the Forsaken would keep the Lightwoods from returning to our country, but they yet again slipped through my grasp. And Lucian…they have given him a seat on the Council and his words have poisoned their mind." Valentine stood still, making no move to get away from his son. "I wanted to avoid battle, but I see no other option for us now."
Something like amusement flashed on Jonathan's face. "Think about it. Think of them, preparing for battle and hoping to win. Once they get to Brocelind Plain, they will realize that it has all been in vain. Imagine how they will look." A grin spread on his face. It was the same grin he had worn when ordering Hugin and Munin to tear training dummies to pieces. It was a foul smile he wore and it was one he wore too often.
"Jonathan." Their father sighed. She saw Jace tense, his back straightening. "This is not something to find amusement in. Battle is an ugly necessity, a necessity I wanted to avoid."
"I believe it's better that I enjoy my tasks." Jonathan responded in a cool voice. "After all, I enjoyed the time I spent in the Glass City. I expected less from the Lightwood family than what I received. I certainly had quite the time with their daughter, Isabelle." A breathy laugh escaped him. "And Clarissa, she wasn't at all what I expected. She is nothing like me. She is more like Eliza than I thought." There was an irritation in his voice she didn't like.
"Yes, as I warned you she would be. Clarissa is just like her mother. And as for Eliza, there is no hope for her any more. She is lost, better off to us dead, I believe." She was nothing, a secondary thought. The same thing she had always been to him. Nothing compared to his boys, always living in the shadow of them.
"On the contrary, I should think." Jonathan said. Valentine looked at him, an eyebrow arched. He asked what he meant. "I think that Clarissa will come around and as for Eliza…I believe there is hope for her yet. What you wished for her, for us, I've seen it in her eyes. With some convincing, we could have both of them." Valentine asked him to elaborate. "Tricking her, of course. It was the most fun I've had in a long time."
"That wasn't what I meant." Valentine snapped. "Besides, you weren't supposed to be off enjoying yourself. The task I gave you was to find out what she was searching for. And when she found it, you allowed her to put it in the hands of warlock scum. Not to mention that you were supposed to bring her with you when you left the city. I must say, you and Eliza have more in common than I originally thought. You have both failed me."
She sucked in a breath, fighting off a laugh. It must have been her brother's worst nightmare come to life, being aligned next to her in their father's eyes. He had always prided himself on being the favorite.
"I tried!" Jonathan growled. She half-expected him to stomp his foot on the ground. "They watch her like a hawk and I doubt even I could have pulled off kidnapping her right in the middle of the Hall of Accords." Always so sure of himself. "Anyway, I told you. She has absolutely no clue how to properly use her power. She doesn't seem to pose any true threat to us."
How wrong he was. If only he knew Clary a little better.
"She is at the very center of whatever the Clave has planned. Hugin has told me. He watched her, saw her stand before everyone in the Hall. If Clarissa has shown the Clave what she can do, she is a threat."
Clary, as untrained as she was, was much stronger than anyone originally believed her to be. On numerous counts, she had risen to the occasion. Eliza felt a strong surge of pride in being able to call Clary her little sister.
"That means they will fight. Isn't that what we want?" Jonathan asked. "And Clarissa doesn't matter. The battle matters." Valentine stated that Jonathan was clearly underestimating her. "I don't think so." Jonathan told him. "I spent a considerable amount of time with her. If she truly knew how to harness her power, she would have used it to get that bloodsucker of hers out of prison. Perhaps she could have even used it to save Starkweather from his untimely demise."
Annoyance flashed across their father's face. "Jonathan, you might want to consider reigning yourself in when it comes to Hodge Starkweather's death, considering you were the cause."
Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "He was about to reveal to them information on the Angel. I was forced to kill him."
Valentine let out a crisp laugh. "Forced? That's new. You wanted the kill, much as you always have." He pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and stretched them over his hands. "There is no way to know what Hodge would have revealed to them, especially not now. Hodge was one of the very few people I trusted with my secret, one of the few who had the knowledge that there was more than one boy. And as for his betrayal, he was always too weak for that."
"No one cares about Hodge." Jonathan said dismissively. "Are you about to leave for the lake?" He asked. Valentine nodded curtly, asking if Jonathan was clear of his instructions. He nodded his head towards Jonathan's sword. "Be sure to use that. It's demonic enough for your task."
"Why can I not go with you to the lake? We should release our force upon them now." Jonathan seemed to be almost whining. He had never liked not getting his way.
"I said midnight and I'll honor my word. They still have time to make the right choice and surrender." Jonathan began to speak but Valentine cut him off. "At midnight, if you haven't heard from Malachi, open the gate." Jonathan stared back at him. "You have to do this, Jonathan. I cannot stand back and wait. I must be at the lake by midnight and I refuse to let the battle last long enough to wait on me getting there. It is imperative for the future generations of Shadowhunters to see how quickly the Clave fell against us."
The petulant look on Jonathan's face vanished. It was replaced by something forlorn, but she saw the malice that lingered underneath. "I'm sorry to miss the summoning, then. I'd hoped to see it, but I see now that this is more important."
The hairs on the back of her neck rose when Valentine placed his hand on Jonathan's cheek. It was a tender touch, one wasted on his son. Neither of them spoke as Valentine began walking away from him, back to where they had come in. "I promise you, Jonathan, one day you shall see the Angel himself. When I have passed on, you will inherit the Mortal Instruments and have the power to summon him yourself."
"Thank you." Was all Jonathan said as Valentine disappeared back into the shadows. It only took a few moments for the malice to fully extend itself on his face once their father had gone. "I know you're here, Jace. Come on out."
Eliza looked at Jace, her eyes wide. Jace moved fast, jumping to his feet and launching himself towards the tunnel. Jonathan was faster, much faster than him. He had stretched himself, blocking access to the tunnel. "Surely you didn't believe you were faster than me."
Jace jerked to a stop. "I am better than you, at everything." He replied.
"Is she here with you? Eliza, I mean. The two of you are…inseparable." He sneered. She cursed under her breath. She stood, emerging from her hiding spot. "Ah, there you are. I'm sure Valentine would have been so glad to know you were here. He could have given a message to the leech you love so much."
Her heart seemed to slow down. "Simon?" Jace asked.
Jonathan's eyes darkened. "Oh no." He grinned. He looked right at her. "I believe his name is Declan? Valentine has plans for his death tonight."
Maybe her heart stopped. She lunged for him, but Jace got to her first. He grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her back.
"How do you know all this?" Jace asked him. "Is it because you're dating our dad?"
He was standing between her and Jonathan, half shielding her, half holding her back.
Magnus, is Declan in Alicante? She hoped he knew. He was close with Declan, they had been friends for a long time.
Yes, little dove. We both are. Where are you?
She felt her heart drop, falling to her feet. He was going to kill them. Both he and Jonathan had promised her that Magnus and Declan would die. And now they would. With both her father and brother in the same vicinity as two of the Downworlders she cared most about, it was sure to happen.
"You think…?" Jonathan's voice trailed into quiet and empty laughter. It only lasted a few seconds before he regained himself, staring back at Jace. "There have been several times when you've crossed my mind." He sighed, his dark eyes glinting. There was, though, an admitting softness in his voice. "Sometimes, you almost seem to possess some amount of intelligence. Much more than the dim-wits you consider your adoptive family." It was Eliza who had to hold Jace back this time. Standing behind him, she held tightly to his biceps to keep him in place. "However, I see it has been a façade, only the way you carry yourself and not at all a true glimpse of yourself. You've proven to be just as ridiculous as everyone else, no matter your upbringing."
"What the hell do you know about my upbringing?" Jace demanded.
"Jace." She said his name softly, fervently.
Jonathan's eyes slid over to her. In them she recognized a coldness. It was taunting and humored. "Oh, my." Jonathan murmured. "If you must know, the same man who raised you, also raised me. Yet, he didn't discard me like an unwanted dog after ten years."
She heard Jace suck in a breath. "I don't understand." Jace whispered. He turned his head, looking back at Eliza.
In that moment, her web of lies had unraveled. It was done, over. She felt lighter, Atlas with the world finally lifted from his shoulders.
And it all came barreling back down.
Jace said nothing to her. Either he truly didn't see what was so plainly in front of him or he did and was wrought with denial. He had so firmly planted his belief in being Valentine's son, in being her brother, that the truth was not his truth.
"Valentine is your father." He said dully, staring back at Jonathan. "You're my brother."
Jonathan moved just as fast, maybe faster. He had his sword out. Leveled not towards Jace, but Eliza. "Look what you've done, Eliza." He clucked his tongue.
"Let her go." Jace ordered.
A terrible smile graced her brother's face. "She brought it on herself. She'll pay for what she's done. One way or another." He brought the sword down, slamming the butt of it against her head.
When she awoke, she was bound. Her back was pressed against one of the stalagmites, her hands bound behind her. Her head throbbed and she vaguely remembered Jonathan hitting her with his sword.
Just a few feet away, Jace was in the same position she was, unconscious. Jonathan stood away from them, a long piece of rope in his hands.
"Is he dead?" She rasped, calling his attention.
"No. I made sure to stop before he could die." He was telling the truth, she could feel it. "Was it your idea or his to find me?"
She leaned her head against the stone. "His. But I didn't object. You did try to kill us all."
Jace stirred, coughing. She looked over at him. There was a stain of blood on the corner of his mouth. "Little brother is awake." Jonathan simpered. He knelt down in front of Jace, toying with the rope.
Jace spit blood to the ground. "Why didn't you kill me?" He asked. "Waiting for something special like Christmas?"
Jonathan cut his eyes. "Where did you get your smart mouth from? Definitely not Father. I also see that he didn't teach you to fight much either, or you would be more of an opponent for me." Jonathan grew closer to Jace. "When I was nine, I didn't receive a material gift from my father from my birthday. Instead, he taught me a lesson. He showed me a special place on a man's back. If you get the blade just right, sinking it through that place can strike the heart as well as sever the spine." He grinned. "What did he give you, his sweet angel son? Another spaghetti bath? A cake?"
The corner of Jace's mouth twitched and he swallowed. "Where was he hiding you? I don't recall you hanging around the manor and Liz didn't seem to know you either."
Jonathan looked over at her. She closed her eyes briefly, not wanting to open them again. "Our sister is quite the liar, one might call it a preordained gift." He moved to kneel in front of her. He reached, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear delicately. "She fooled you once, making you believe she was related to that fool Hodge Starkweather. When she's caught up in one of her webs, she turns into quite the actress. She did pretend that we were strangers perfectly."
She choked back a series of curses. She jerked her head away from Jonathan's hand, but he grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at Jace. His jaw was set firmly.
"Look at her. She's weak." Jonathan snarled. "So easily influenced by a simple threat. She lies and lies and lies, she'll never stop. If only she would have told you the truth, maybe little Max would still be alive. His blood is on her hands." She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears springing. She wished she were dead. She wanted him to kill her. When she opened them, the tears rolled down her cheeks. "See? She's even crying. She knows I'm right."
Jace stared back at her, tawny eyes wide.
She jerked, turning her face towards Jonathan's hand holding her hair. She lurched forward and opened her mouth. Her teeth sank into the soft flesh of his wrist. He jerked and shouted out, trying to yank his wrist away. With each movement, her teeth bit down further. She finally released, blood trickling down her lip and staining her teeth.
Eliza looked up at him, a satisfied smile on her face. "Bitch." He hissed. He reared his hand back and smacked her with an unholy amount of force.
Her face seared with pain.
"You're right." Jace said suddenly, drawing Jonathan's attention away. Both of them turned to him. "It's her fault. Everything wrong is because of her. Valentine got the Mortal Instruments because she failed to stop him. Max is dead because of her lies, whatever they are. She's weak and she's a failure."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Jace, sweet and guarded, who had just been saying wonderful things to her the night before, was verbally decimating her. And in her heart, she knew it was true. She knew she deserved it.
Jonathan grinned at Jace. "That's the spirit. Let me add to it for you. Did she tell you that she knew about you? Valentine loved to talk about you."
Jace shook his head. "She said that she knew about me. I think we covered the whole lying-about-knowing-you part already."
Her brother seemed entirely amused with Jace's newfound dislike of her. "Right, of course." Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. "You know some things, but not everything. Not yet." He stood up straight, looking down on Jace. "Watch carefully, my little brother. Watch and you shall see."
He took the sword from its sheath again, moving impossibly fast. She recognized its silver hilt and the pattern of falling stars that decorated the blade. Phaesphoros
Jonathan's cold laugh echoed through the room. With only the grace a Shadowhunter could have, Jonathan moved to the center of the chamber, standing next to the red colored stalagmite. She saw whatever was inside of it begin to move faster the nearer he was. He spoke something from a demonic language she didn't recognize and lifted the blade over his head. He swung down.
The top part of the stalagmite fell away to the ground. From inside, the black and red substance- smoke, she realized- flew up with a roar.
Her ears popped and her chest compressed. She struggled with her bindings, trying to get to air she couldn't reach.
The column of smoke swirled up towards the hole in the ceiling. "Keep watching!" Jonathan shouted at them. His hair flew back from the smoke's wind and his black eyes seemed unnaturally bright. "This is Valentine's army!"
Whatever he had said next, if there was anything, had been lost in the roar of the column of smoke coming from the stalagmite.
Demons. Those are the demons.
She heard howls and shrieks, the sounds of claws scraping and teeth clacking. From the void they came and into the night they went. Her nose burned raw from the awful stench of demons. Death in its purest form.
She looked away from the mass exodus of Valentine's demonic force. The sound subsided quickly and an eerily peaceful silence took over the chamber.
"They're gone." Jonathan told them.
She looked back. He was sitting over top Jace. "I don't think it's midnight yet." Jace croaked. "He said midnight."
Jonathan looked to the sky and then back at Jace. "I've found it more appealing to ask forgiveness rather than permission. They'll be to Brocelind Plain in about five minutes, give or take. Before Father will get to the lake, I'm certain. The Nephilim should shed blood for this. It's the least they can do, to die writhing in pain, overcome by demons."
There it was, his unquenchable need to inflict pain, cause harm, spill blood. It was never the cruel upbringing that had been the issue, it was the demon blood tarnishing his own. It had stripped his humanity completely and turned him into something horrible. Valentine had wanted a super-warrior, but he had gotten an abomination.
"You act as if they're utterly unprepared." Jace noted.
Jonathan waved the thought aside. "Were you here to spy or to have a family reunion? Have you no idea what my father plans to do?" He asked. Jace remained silent, only observing him with dark eyes. "You proved useful when you led me to Hodge at the Gard. Without you, I would never have uncovered that the Mortal Glass was actually Lake Lyn. Because of you, this night has become possible. Do you know how?" Again, Jace said nothing. Jonathan looked at Eliza, his eyebrows raised. "He isn't very bright." He told her. "But you, you know. You know what this means."
She wished she didn't. She had known for a long time, as long as she could remember. It was part of the mission, their father's mission. "The one who possesses the Cup and the Sword of the Angel can stand before the Mirror and summon from it our Angel Raziel. They are granted the power of which Jonathan Shadowhunter had. And when you summon the Angel, you are graced with the ability to ask of him one thing. An answer to a question, a task, a favor. Anything." She, without hesitation, repeated the words that Valentine had forever placed in her memory. A recitation every day for years had given the words permanent residence in her mind.
"So, what? Valentine is going to summon the Angel and ask him to make sure the Shadowhunters are defeated at Brocelind Plain?" Jace asked. "That seems anticlimactic."
Jonathan got up, moving away from him hastily. "Hardly. When my father summons the Angel, he will ask for one thing. He will ask that all Nephilim who have not sworn their allegiance to him, those who have not drunk from the Mortal Cup, be stripped of their angelic blessing. With that, they will no longer be Nephilim, yet they will still bear the Marks." His voice dropped low. Jonathan wore another smile. "Forsaken. The demons will tear them to pieces and the Downworlders will be destroyed."
The mass genocide of all Shadowhunters was never what Valentine had wanted. She knew that much. He only wanted to get rid of those who would never side with him. But from the conversation she had overheard, it seemed like everyone had decided to fight against him. There would be a very select few who were already on his side, those would be the ones to survive.
"He wouldn't." Jace said slowly. "He can't."
"He will. This has been my father's plan for so long. He will see it through." Jonathan insisted.
Jace looked up at him. "Our father." He corrected.
She saw the look Jonathan gave him. She felt bad for Jace in that moment, but was glad to once not be on the receiving end of it. "Excuse me?"
"You keep saying 'my' father, but he's our father."
Jonathan's face seemed to go blank, only for a fleeting moment. The corners of his mouth almost drew into another smile. "Oh, you little angel boy." Jonathan chided. "You are just as Father always said, a hopeless fool."
She rested her head against the stalagmite. Behind her, she worked her hands, hoping that some how she could slip a hand from the binding. If she could surprise him, she might be able to take him. Except, she was certain that she was only tearing the skin from her wrists and not actually getting anywhere.
"Why do you keep calling me 'little angel boy'? Are you hitting on me or something?"
She saw the brief flash of annoyance and anger cross her brother's face. "You are completely unaware of everything, aren't you? Has anyone ever told you the truth?" He looked at Eliza. "Well, for what it's worth, you can pull off your little lies and you do know how to keep your mouth shut."
"What if you were the one he was lying to?" Jace questioned him.
That seemed to hit Jonathan somewhere deep. "He wouldn't dare lie to me. I am his flesh and blood. His legacy. When he goes, I will take his place."
Father's favorite. The favorite son, the favorite child. "Are you sure that's something you want to boast about? Being his legacy and all."
"Always. I'm not disgusted or afraid that Father does what he must to save his people. I may not think that they deserve to be saved, but he does and he is willing to do what is necessary to do it. I don't have to ask him which of us is the better son, which he is more proud to claim. Wouldn't you too want the son who is proud of you over the one who is afraid of you?"
Jace swallowed. "I'm not afraid of him."
"And you're right not to be. But you should most definitely be afraid of me." Jonathan lowered his sword, resting the tip of it to Jace's throat.
Eliza stilled, watching them. "Stop." She said. Jonathan stared at Jace, that familiar evil in his eyes. "You promised me." She told him. "You promised me that you wouldn't hurt him."
When he finally looked at her, he seemed almost dejected. "I never promised." He reminded her. "I only said I would hurt him if I had to. Luckily, I don't see the need. He poses no threat to me. He only bothers me, like an insect."
"If you don't think I'm a threat, untie my hands." Jace told him. "What are you afraid of?"
Jonathan was still. She didn't think he was even really breathing. He looked like a statue, regal and stone cold. "You can't bait me into a fight, I'm not stupid. Besides, I said I wouldn't hurt you. I never said I wouldn't kill you." She felt her heart stop. "I kept you alive so you could see the gloriousness of the demon force. Now, you may die and when you see your angels, tell them that they are no longer needed here. They have failed and now, we are saved by Valentine."
Jace raised his eyebrows. "You want to kill me so I can deliver a message to God? What the hell is going on in your head?"
She watched Jonathan press the blade deeper to Jace's throat. "Kill me. Kill me instead!" She thrashed against the bindings.
"Liz!" Jace gasped.
Jonathan gave her a look of perplexity she had never seen on him before. "Little sister."
She went still. "Kill me, Jonathan. I know you, I know that you're itching to kill something, anything. I feel it sometimes too. Jace hasn't done anything wrong to you. None of this is his fault, it's mine. You said so yourself." Her chest heaved. "You promised you'd kill me, remember? We were fourteen, we sparred, I won. You woke me up that night, a knife to my throat. You made me a promise that night. Make good on it now."
He didn't move. The sword stayed even, placed at the base of Jace's throat. "Your time will come, little sister, I swear to you. Father has special plans for you and I won't let him miss the fun in letting you suffer. Which, begins now."
No, no, no.
There had to be something she could do, anything. He couldn't kill Jace. Not Jace. She was ready to die, more than ready. Especially in the place of the person she loved most.
"Will you give our father a message for me?" Jace asked Jonathan. He hesitated but said that he would. Jace regarded him carefully. "No, you won't. You lied."
Jonathan said that was ridiculous. "You hesitated." Eliza told her brother. "Remember, I'm the liar between us."
"You wouldn't give him the message because you don't want him to know you killed me." Jace went on. "He didn't tell you to kill me and you know how displeased he'll be if you do."
He was right. Valentine, for whatever it was worth, liked to have Jace. She didn't know what exactly drew him to Jace, but she was fine with it so long as it kept Jace alive.
"You mean nothing to him." Jonathan hissed.
"You can't hide it from him, killing me. He'll know. You may be able to lie and tell him that I died during the battle, but he'll figure out what happened. He always does."
Jonathan shook his head. "You're wrong." His face was drawn together, his mouth a firm line.
"There are witnesses. Eliza will tell him."
"Then I'll kill her too!"
Jace was pressing buttons she didn't even know Jonathan had. How was it that she had spent seventeen years of her life with Jonathan but Jace seemed to know him better?
"I said witnesses. As in, multiple."
Jonathan's eyes widened with surprise. "Who else?"
Eliza smiled. "Hugin." She breathed. "You mean Hugin."
Jace nodded. "The raven has been here the whole time, lingering in the shadows. He'll tell Valentine everything, just like he always does."
Jonathan looked up. His dark eyes searched the shadows but seemed to find nothing. However, doubt was written all over his face when he looked back at Jace.
"I can hardly imagine the disgust he would feel towards you once he realized that you murdered me while I was defenseless, tied up and unable to fight back." Jace speculated. His voice dropped. "Valentine would never forgive you. Not for that." With those words, with his voice that way, he sounded exactly like him. Jonathan stared him down. His upper lip twitched and his eyes seemed darker than usual. "You know that it's the only way." Jace continued. "Untie me and fight me. Don't be a coward."
Jonathan's entire mouth twitched. His eyes narrowed and he raised his sword. The moonlight reflected against it, sending shards of light everywhere. His mouth curled into a snarl.
"NO!" She screamed as he brought the sword down, the blade whistling.