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CHAPTER NINE:
The Malevolent Spirit's Mother

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Yes! It's finally here! I sincerely apologize for the delay. I got sidetracked with other stories and totally forget. Like I always say, this is why you have to review. So I don't forget. Also, the deleted sex scene from last chapter is on my LJ if you're in the mood for lemony fun.

Oh! And, the official playlist to City of Ink can now be found (complete with lyrics) in my LiveJournal. Link's on my profile. I've gone back and added the songs to the beginning of each chapter.

This chapter's song: Melt into the Wall by Pilate. Enjoy.

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"She's on bed rest," said Luke, fighting back a small smile that nobody seemed to understand. They'd just walked into this other world, not realizing these people weren't governed by the petty problems of Clary and Jace.

"Bed rest?" echoed Clary, turning to Magnus. "Do you think she's got the same thing I do?"

Luke's eyes snapped up off his feet onto Clary's tiny form. "You better not have what she has! She's pregnant."

Jace took a step back from Clary and threw his arms up in the air. "Whoa whoa whoa. Nobody's pregnant on this end. Don't scare me, man!"

Clary just stared, mouth agape, at Luke. Her eyes were accusing but her heart was aflutter with happiness. "She's pregnant? How?!"

Magnus chuckled behind her and answered, "I could draw you a diagram but, for Jace, we might need sock puppets and laser pointers."

Clary shook her head, ignoring Magnus completely. "Is it yours?" she corrected herself. "You two aren't even married! Was it an accident?"

"Clary!" scolded Luke. "What sort of question is that?"

"Was it?" she shouted.

He sighed. "No, it wasn't an accident at all," he said with a shrug, his hands deep in his pockets. He didn't want to explain his and Jocelyn's desire for a child or the marriage laws in Alicante. As progressive as they were, he was still a monster and they didn't want monsters mixing with their womenfolk. "She's just seven weeks along but the warlocks say it's a girl. They put her on bed rest since there's a chance she might be born—you know."

"A werewolf?" finished Alec with hidden disgust. It was obvious to the others but not to Luke, Simon, and Clary. Jace cleared his throat, signaling for Alec to shut the hell up.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and pushed past the others. Alec called after her but she just kept walking through the city. "I'm going to see her and getting her to call off this whole mess before she kills someone."

"What mess?" shouted Luke after her, his wild eyes turning to Jace and Clary for an explanation. "Somebody tell me what the hell is going on!"

"I'm dying!" spat Clary. "Sebastian is alive somewhere and Mom knows where. We have to stop him before he kills me and starts going after her. Understand?"

He turned and, without a single complaint, led them to their home.

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They could see the house in the distance, a great manor hidden by hills and a long entryway framed in white roses. They had asked Clary if she'd wanted to come live with them but she never imagined her mother living a place like this. She was used to her little brownstone, her small room and her table for four, not forty. This place looked like it could house a small army.

Magnus whistled, taken in by its grandeur. "Swanky," he whispered into Alec's ear.

They were otherwise silent the whole way. They slipped through the living room to a short hallway leading to a large set of double doors. Luke opened them slowly and everyone could see she was asleep. They shared looks across the way and let Clary and Jace step forward. It felt like this confrontation should be private and, no matter how much they fought, they had already begun to see Clary and Jace as a single person. An item in its purest form.

Clary neared the bed with trepidation. Seeing her mother sleeping like that, so peaceful and quiet, reminded her of those months she spent in a coma. It nearly broke her down in tears so she reached for Jace's hand to steady herself. He understood because he had once seen Jocelyn as his mother and it had hurt him just as much to watch her in pain. Most of all, he saw how much it hurt Clary to see her and clutched her hand extra hard to keep her strong.

"Mom?" she whispered, stepping forward and clearing her throat. Luke closed the door behind him, leaving Simon, Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus alone in the long living room. "Mom, wake up."

Jocelyn opened her eyes slowly and everyone could see Clary's shoulders drop in relaxation. "Clary? Jace? What are you doing here?"

Jace and Luke looked to Clary to ask but she was frozen, staring at her mother. She couldn't believe, especially after seeing the gentle smile on Jocelyn's face, that her mother could be behind all this pain.

So, Jace stepped in and confronted her himself. "We need to know what you did with Sebastian," he said, as straightforward and emotionless as possible. This was business. This was serious.

Jocelyn seemed honestly confused, looking to Clary for an explanation but finding only a blank, distant expression. She had no choice but to turn back to Jace. "Excuse me?"

"Sebastian. I mean, Jonathan. He's killing Clary as we speak. You need to tell us what you did and where he's hiding."

Jocelyn suddenly blanched and covered her eyes, unable to look at her daughter a second longer. "Oh god," she whispered and reached out for Luke who came to sit beside her on the bed. "He can't be doing this. It can't be him."

"Where is he?" insisted Jace through gritted teeth. Clary absentmindedly caressed his arm, silently telling him to calm down.

She gulped and, before Jocelyn could explain, she left Jace's hand behind and walked off towards the bedside table where a large sketchpad rested. She opened it and began sifting through the large pictures, all done in brilliant black ink. They were much like her own, just snapshots of a city. Alleys, skyscrapers, sidewalks… all cloaked in darkness.

"He's here, isn't he?" she whispered for the first time. "He's in the city."

"What?" said Luke and Jace at the same time. Jace walked over and pulled the pad from her hands. He sifted through the images quickly, looking for the monster's face, but finding only city.

"You trapped him in a drawing just like you hid the Mortal Cup," she said to herself more than anything. In her heart, she knew but she'd never before had the strength to say it aloud. Even with Jace on the other side of the room, she felt strong for the first time in months. And she realized she didn't need him here. Proximity to Sebastian was all she needed.

A few minutes had passed and nobody spoke, trying to wrap their heads around the situation. Jace was the first to shout out suddenly, "You hid him in a freakin' picture?!"

Luke stood and glared at him, warning him to calm down or leave. Clary threw the pad across the room, her nostrils flaring. "He isn't there! Those are sketches. Where is the real painting, Mom?"

Jocelyn sighed and Luke helped her to her feet. She was wearing a long, flowy white nightgown and her red hair was loose and curling down her back. Jace watched her move down the hallway, lingering behind to wonder if Clary would look like this in years to come. Would she age as gracefully? Would she bear her marks with the same pride? Would he be there for her the way Luke was for Jocelyn, by her side even if he could not have her?

Something in his heart was telling him to let go, to say goodbye, but he didn't know why or what.

"Follow me," said Jocelyn and everyone in the living room followed her to a set of double doors with the same elegant carvings on pale, almost white, wood.

Luke seemed intrigued as much as hurt, unsure of the door as though he'd never noticed it was there. Had she put a glamour on it? "Joce, why—"

"I'll explain it later, ok?" she answered him sweetly, giving him a tight smile.

They pushed in the door and, no matter the size of the room, everyone's eyes fell on the painting. It was a single panel and took up the entire back wall. "How did you have time to do this and get pregnant?" asked Alec before he realized how rude he sounded. Magnus nudged him in the arm and Clary got the sense that Alec was getting extremely tired of being told to shut up. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow but his eyes were fixed on the painting of the grand city that seemed to move before their eyes.

But, unlike the others, Clary's eyes were focused on a single spot, a tower in the distance. She reached up and touched the painting, smudging her fingers with black ink. "It's still wet?" she hissed, stepping back quickly.

"It never dries," said Jocelyn, shame smeared across her face. "I don't know why. It just never does."

Alec nudged Magnus and he stepped forward to inspect the painting. His attention flew to the symbols around the plain black frame in white. Those had dried months ago. He snapped at Izzy and pointed to the step ladder in the corner by the door. She brought them over without complaint, still trapped in the wonder of the painting's size.

"God, Mom," whispered Clary. "I feel like I can walk right into that thing. Why would you do this knowing everything he's done?"

Jocelyn put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, sweetheart, but he's my son. Even if he's part demon, I couldn't just let him die. After his body went, I trapped his soul here. I thought the demon in him would only exist in his blood. Kill that, spare the child. I didn't expect it'd be in his spirit too and I certainly didn't want you to suffer."

"I'm sorry Jocelyn but we're going to have to kill him," said Luke, standing a bit too far away for her comfort. She knew he would forgive her but it would take a lot more than ever before. He had gotten over his initial modesty now that they were "official" but he still didn't have it in him to be disappointed by her, this woman he had put on a pedestal for so many years.

She nodded twice and stepped back, going to sit near the cans of black paint against the far right wall. "I understand. Burn it."

"No can do," said Magnus, stepping back down. "He's tied to Clary now. By blood. His spirit's so strong he'd just cling to her, take her over completely even."

"He wants us to destroy the painting," said Clary, focusing on the white tarps along the floor. "I can feel it."

Jace pulled out his knives and slid on his I'm-going-hunting face. "Tell me how to fight him, Magnus, and I'll tear him to shreds."

Magnus laughed and jumped off the steps. "Calm down, Sparky. He has no body. The only way you can kill him is… well, in the painting."

Jace grimaced and turned to Jocelyn. "You heard him. Send me in," he commanded.

Simon, Izzy, Alec, and Magnus all shared dubious looks. They knew where this was leading. When Jace found his latest mission, especially involving Clary's safety, it was best to stay back or chain him up to the wall because there was no one who could talk sense into him.

"I'm not going to do this with you, Jace," said Izzy. Alec and Magnus nodded in agreement. Everyone turned to Simon who looked apologetically between Clary and Izzy. They all understood that if he chose to go with Jace and Clary into the painting, it would mean he was choosing to leave Isabelle behind in all sense of the word. She clutched his hand, silently begging him to stay with her. He took a step forward but she wouldn't let go.

"Come on, Iz. I have to," he pleaded. "It's not like I'm going to die. I'm already dead."

She gave him a cross look. "Don't be a smartass. You know damn well that normal rules don't apply in a painting. You'd be leaving your body behind."

He looked to Magnus, who nodded in confirmation. Jace repocketed his knives, feeling useless and impatient. "Look, we go now. No second options. If you want to stay here, Simon, fine. Stay. But—" He turned to Clary. "But you're staying too."

She gave a soft laugh. "Are we seriously going to have this argument again?"

He pretended to be confused. "What argument? There will be no argument. You're staying here."

She laughed again. "Jace… look at me. No way in Hell am I staying here, understand? I can fight. I can help you. I'm going. Last time he nearly killed you and you were in your element. We're going into his territory, his rules."

"You haven't trained in weeks, dear. YOU'RE WEAK! He has control over you and you're just leaving your body unattended. What if he possesses you completely?"

She scoffed and took a step closer till they were as close to eye to eye as possible. Her hand slowly slid up his arms, over the new muscles he'd built during the last few months. She smirked and, before he could even flinch, she had unbuckled the knives from their sheaths and were now aimed directly at his jugular.

"I'm going, dear," she said in a mocking tone. "And I'd like to see you stop me. I'm not as naive as before, Jace, and I'm not going to—"

Just as quickly as she'd unsheathed him, he'd stolen back the knives and was now aiming one at her waist and another against her cheek. She flinched at how cool they were against her bare skin but she didn't take her eyes from his, not even to massage her aching wrists. He'd been a little too forceful.

"Normally, I would tell you guys to whip them out and measure but that's obviously not possible here," said Magnus, laughing. "Look, Jocelyn and I have to set this thing up. You guys have five minutes and then we're ending this. Fin. Nada. Bye bye Mr. Evil Spirit. Got it? You have five minutes to figure this out or I'm leaving."

"Well, that's one way to rally the troops," muttered Simon to Alec.

Jace and Clary didn't move, locked in a staring contest. "You're not going to get her to stay," said Jocelyn out of the blue. Everyone jumped a foot off the ground at the sound of her voice. She and Luke had been locked in their own cross-room stare. "Just lower the knives."

Jace obeyed and watched as Clary walked away, feeling betrayed yet again. Defeated, he asked Magnus, "What do you need from us?"

"Just take off your shirt," said Jocelyn, standing. She wiped away the silent tears with the sleeve of her nightgown. "And I'll put an unbinding symbol on you to separate you from your body. Then, I'll paint you into the wall. Easy."

Jace scoffed and started unbuttoning his shirt. Magnus glared at Alec till he looked away, clearing his throat. Jocelyn grabbed a bucket of black paint and a large, rounded bristle paintbrush and gestured for Jace to sit down in one of the two oversized beige sofas against the wall.

She bent down and drew the symbol at the base of his throat. It dried quickly. His face didn't change, set and stern and determined, glaring at Clary almost daringly. She smirked and pulled off her own button-down shirt, revealing a simple low-neck tank top. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't move. He tried but he was stuck to the chair.

She sat down beside him, took his hand in hers defiantly, and nodded towards Jocelyn to proceed.

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Reviews are better than shirtless Jace getting painted on.