Jonathan was panicked though his face showed no emotion. Father had taught him too well for that, but where was father? "It's nothing. It doesn't matter. Don't you dare panic Jonathan. He is coming. It's nothing. Calm down." Jonathan whispered, letting no emotion color his words. He began to give himself reasons, "Maybe he was held up? Maybe he is testing you?" Yes thought Jace. This was a test. He had a Seraph blade up his sleeve and two more at his belt. He drew one at his belt now, "Ithuriel!" It lit like a blue candle. Jonathan was not afraid, he was not nervous, he was excited. Tests were always exciting. Once, Jonathan had climbed a burning tree to save his 'paraboti.'
Jonathan slowly walked to the door of the library, put his hand and head on the door and paused, listening. There was a strange noise, like someone was scratching a desk. "Oh, forget it," Jonathan said, "It's the demon." He took a step back to open the door and then he heard it. Jonathan's head jerked in alarm. There was a keening noise, like a scream that never ended, emanating from the entrance hall. Jonathan was shocked, father never screamed; never yelled; never spoke above a contained tone, even when he was angry with Jonathan. Never. Not when Jonathan had carved marks all over himself, not when Jonathan ditched an ancient Greek lesson. Not even when Jonathan had read from the forbidden shelf. God, not even when he was eight and ran away from that Draco demon, and his father had whipped the mark for fear into his back with his belt. Never. It may have been the memory of the whip on his shoulders after that particular encounter that pulled Jonathan out of his revere and back into the present. Jonathan was not afraid. He was not nervous, he was sure. Sure of father's need. Sure of himself. And sure that he would win.