Hello again, everyone, just a few things. First, this chapter is a bit graphic, and I'm sorry if it offends anyone. Second, because for the next week and half I'll be taking exams, the next chapter might be posted a bit late; I'm going to try to stay on track, but I can't take time away from studying to write. So, if next saturday, this isn't updated, that's the reason. Thanks for reading!

The Great Goddess

There was silence in the hall suddenly at Jonathan's words and Clary was aware that more than a hundred demons were staring at her, and the only thing stopping them attacking her was Jonathan's good graces. His eyes burned brightly, scouring her, and Clary forced herself to continue holding his gaze, but she felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. A small hiss of a breath escaped the nearest demon and Clary's breath rattled out of her.

"Good morning, Jonathan," she said confidently. "It was kind of you to hold your meal for me."

Jonathan didn't smile. "Well, since we missed your at breakfast, it seemed the only polite thing to do."

"How very gracious of you," Clary demurred, but she sensed a sharpness about Jonathan that seemed very dangerous.

Jonathan watched while Clary climbed the stairs to the platform where her seat was waiting, beside Jonathan. When she sat she saw that Jonathan was still standing, staring down on her. "It's a pity you came so late."

"Why?" Clary asked quizzically. "I hope I didn't upset anyone's stomachs."

"Well," said Jonathan, sitting, "had you come when I'd called, we could have had our breakfast, and left for the day. However, you found yourself incapable, and so we must eat lunch."

"Is it so horrible today?" Clary joked, trying to raise a smile.

"We'll be dining with the court today," he said darkly.

"Do they pick their teeth with their knives?" Clary laughed.

Jonathan's face was blank. "No."

He's in a dark mood, Clary thought worriedly. "Well, then, I suppose it can't be horrible."

Jonathan smirked and waved a servant over, a man with a tray of food for them. He served Clary first, placing a bowl of steaming stew before her and a glass of wine. Clary eyed the dark red liquid carefully and stirred her stew. Beside her, Jonathan was looking out on the silent court, his eyes glancing from side to side; after a moment, he stood.

"Well, now that we are all here and accounted for, I think we can begin our meal, yes?" Jonathan looking around and few of the demons nodded their heads. "Excellent, I hope you're all hungry."

Clary, who had been keeping her eyes down heard a strange note in Jonathan's voice and looked up. He was smiling broadly now, and it seemed oddly crooked. What's he got planned?

Clary didn't have to wait long to find out what Jonathan seemed so suspiciously pleased about. The door that would have normally led to the kitchen opened a small group of people emerged, villagers by the look of them. Their eyes moved around in wonder, alighting on the polished floor, the grand fire place, the splendor of the lords and ladies clothes, and finally on Jonathan. Clary narrowed her eyes as a man stepped forward, bowed to Jonathan, and spoke.

"It was so kind of you, my lord, to bring us here and honor us by-"

Jonathan held up his hand. "You and your people have shown loyalty to the Great Goddess and have made the sacrifices every month as was commanded."

Made the sacrifices? Clary wondered in horror, thinking of the small boy she'd seen skinning the mouse while it was alive. What have you done to them, Jonathan?

"We serve the Great Goddess, she who refused to be made a blind slave to the Angel and his get." Behind him, a few women looked about smugly, and small children pressed forward, eyes glowing. "We have made the greatest of all sacrifices, my wife and I."

The men gestured behind him and a young woman came forward. She was painfully thin, with lank hair, and purple shadows under her eyes. In her arm, she held a small bundle, which she carried before her. "The Eternal Mother, she who protects the children, came to me in a vision and I offer her my child so that she might take him and raise him."

The Eternal Mother? Clary's eyes widened when the small bundle wriggled. "What is that?" she whispered.

"Silence!" Jonathan snarled softly. "You wish the Great Goddess to rescue your child?"

The woman sank into a bow. "She came to me in a dream and told me that my child could be great, if only I would give him to her. She said she would take him away and he would be made a lord among men, a great warrior, he would be free as she was when she broke her bond to the Angel."

Clary felt her hand constrict on her spoon. Take him away-

"The Great Goddess is gracious to you," Jonathan said simply. "You must give your child to the Goddess for him to be free. Then, she will set your people free as well."

"Yes, my lord," the woman said, and she placed the squirming bundle on the ground before her.

Clary saw the small child's face, red cheeks and glowing eyes, and she swallowed hard. Around her, she suddenly noticed that the demons were standing up, leaning over the table, eyeing the baby. "What are you doing?" Clary asked louder, and Jonathan's hand came up and caught her across the face; she fell back clutching her cheek. The woman looked to her husband expectantly, and he reached into his cloak and removed a stone, carved into the shape of a small figure. The wife took it and cradled it close to her, whispering a prayer to the thing. Clary blinked away tears and stood, but Jonathan grabbed her arm, forcing her to sit. Her eyes moved unerringly to the woman and she felt terror wake in her as the woman lifted the statue high above her. "No, wait, stop!" Clary cried, but it was too late.

The woman brought the small statue down with unnatural force, onto the baby's skull with a sickening thud. The baby's coos were abruptly cut off, and Clary screamed, but no one heard her. The moment the blood had been spilled, a horrible snarling went up around the room and the lord and ladies were revealed for what they were. The demons fell upon the unsuspecting group of villagers, their jaws unhinged and their fangs out; a few of the humans must have noticed that they were about to be torn apart and tried to run, but their desperate screams went unheard as they were torn apart by clawed hands and vicious teeth.

Clary was still screaming, still trying to stop the mother trying to kill her baby, still trying to close out the sounds of screams. Jonathan was holding her tightly, and when she pulled away, he jerked her into his arms. "I told you, Clary, that you didn't want to see the court eat, but you just had to have your little moment with Jace, didn't you?"

"Stop it, Jonathan," Clary begged, "please, Jonathan, have some mercy."

"I have none," Jonathan said absently. "Perhaps, had you been here, you might have been merciful enough for the both of us."

Clary fought vainly against Jonathan's grip, but he was like iron. She eventually slouched in his hands, forced to watch the slaughter before her. Her eyes moved unerringly to the small bundle on the ground, the baby, in its pool of blood. She heaved a dry sob.

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't help you, she thought. This is because of me that you had to die…because I was so selfish. Almost as soon as she'd thought it, a tingling sensation raced up her arm and she felt a gentle presence in the back of her mind, pushing against her terror. Jace, Jace I know you're there. Maybe Clary imagined it, but for a moment, she felt something soft brush her arm, like long fingers rubbing life back into her limbs.

"Jonathan, please, I can't watch this anymore," Clary rasped, the sounds of demon snarls almost drowning out her words.

Jonathan was quiet a long time, considering her word. "I will take you down to the river for the fresh air, but you won't go back to your room. You'll stay with me."

"Anything," Clary whispered, nodding her head reverently; the smell of blood and rotting flesh was threatening her stomach.

"Come then," Jonathan grumbled, and he led her away. There was an awful moment when Jonathan pulled her down onto the main floor and she was surrounded on all sides by beasts, but Jonathan just dragged her along, out through the doors, and to the nearest exit. Clary donned a simple cloak and allowed Jonathan to lead her out of doors, into the frozen garden.

The moment the chill air touched her, Clary could feel life stirring in her again. Her mind cleared and she could focus again on something that wasn't screams of terror and bones crunching. "Jonathan…I'm sorry."

Jonathan shot her a dark look. "Are you really? For who?"

Clary bowed her head. "For you, for that stupid woman…for her poor baby."

"Don't be," sniffed Jonathan, taking Clary's hand and strolling along the bushes. "The woman died for what she believed, her baby too."

That's the demon, it has to be the demon; the real Jonathan wouldn't say that! Clary thought desperately. "How could you say that? How can you think-think it's okay-"

"I didn't say it was okay," Jonathan said quickly. "I said she died believing in something, and you shouldn't feel sorry for her."

"That's a horrible thing to say," Clary whispered, uncertain of how Jonathan would react. "She murdered her own child."

"Parents murder their children, whether it's literally or figuratively, and they do it for the best of reasons." Jonathan's dark eyes burned with a sudden, desperate gleam. "Don't you think Valentine was a bit hard on us, Clary?"

The demon blood… Clary thought distantly. He's means the poison Father gave him as a boy. "If he was, it was just because he wanted us to succeed. He wanted us to be the best."

Jonathan laughed. "That's rich-and a lie. You know as well as I that he ruined us, and he didn't think twice about doing it."

Oh, he thought about it, thought about it every day since our mother left him. It's why he let you do as you pleased, why he indulged you. He was sorry. "It doesn't mean you have to go along with it. We're free now, aren't we? With Father gone and you king, we can do as we please, you and I."

"Not quite," Jonathan said with a smile in his voice. "Not quite."

"Who could oppose us?" Clary asked, hoping he might share a bit of information.

"Well, the shadowhunters for one," Jonathan mused. "But, I'll destroy them soon, no, they're hardly worth the worry."

"Then who?" Clary pressed.

Jonathan slowed their pace, grinning to himself, and he turned to look at Clary with a crooked smile. "Parents, you know, there's always two of them."

"So, is this what you do every day?" asked Jace, watching Aline carefully pick up books off the mantle of the fire and scrub the spotless surface with a rag. "Not that it isn't good to have something to fill your time with, but…" Aline was staring at Jace with a sad, empty look, and he regretted almost at once that he had made the joke in the first place. "Do you want help cleaning?"

"No," Aline said blankly. "No, I like doing this, I like…" Her face crumbled then and she dropped the rag, heaving a dry sob. "I –I like it…"

Jace rushed to her side, but she pulled away from him, leaning against the stone hearth for support instead. He held up his hands, showing them purposefully to her face, but Aline seemed far away. "Aline, why don't you come sit with me a while? The couch is comfortable and the tea you made is perfect on a cold day like this."

"No, I need to clean." She stared at the rag on the ground, but Jace snatched it up.

"I'll take care of it."

"Clary will ask-"

"And I will answer her, Aline," Jace promised, and he drew another step closer, one hand reaching out for her. "I'm her husband, after all, I think I'm allowed to get away with a few things."

"But it was my job-"

"And I'm saying it was completed." Jace took her hand in his and she flinched away. "Aline, please, I'm awfully bored, sitting over there all by myself with a history book. Come and sit with me and tell me about yourself. You used to speak so much, and you had so many good stories as I recall."

Aline blinked, as if recalling from another world her past. "I can't remember."

"Then I'll tell you stories, because I've got my fill," Jace chuckled, and he squeezed Aline's hand a little harder. She didn't flinch this time, but she did frown at him, uncertain what he wanted. "I grew up in the country, you know, out in the wild lands. You grew up in the country, didn't you?"

"Yes," she murmured and Jace gently tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow like he would a proper lady. "Yes, my father, mother, and I. We had a little farm with fields and cows…"

Jace smiled encouragingly. "Do you want me to tell you about the first time I ever tried to milk a cow? It was nightmare, a complete nightmare. I'm sure you've never had such difficulties as I did." The corners of Aline's lips turned up just a little. "There's a smile."

"Maybe you scared them?" she offered, and Jace led her to the couch.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he said as he shook out a blanket and wrapped Aline up in it, poured her a cup of tea, and buttered a few slices of bread. "You need to eat more, Aline, you're hardly a stick; Clary would never forgive me if I let you go on like this. She'll think I'm eating all the food. Now, where was I…the cow? Yes, well, I was a little boy then, and I had a nasty temper."

Aline's mouth opened a little. "Didn't you get in trouble?"

"Well, I was very good at hiding it." Jace winked. "I messed my hair so it looked like a lion's mane, and I smeared soot all over my face, and then I crept up on the cow, and while it was eating, I jumped out!" Jace laughed aloud and Aline looked down, hiding a small smile. "Well, the cow panicked-if cows can panic-kicked a bucket over, almost stomped me in the process, and lowed so loudly my mother heard the commotion."

"Was she angry?"

Jace smiled narrowly. "I told you, I was a charming young boy then, nothing like I am now. I told my mother it was the house cat chasing rats."

"Did she believe you?"

"Well," he said, "she did, but, the cow knew better. She kicked me the moment I went for her udders. So, of course, when I went back to the house, I had a great big bruise and no milk, Mother knew at once…"

"I suppose you were punished?" asked Aline curiously.

Jace pressed his lips into a soft line. "My mother thought I was very sneaky and a very reckless boy, and then she sent me to my room without lunch. But," Jace winked at Aline, "she still gave me a glass of warm, fresh milk at dinner."

Aline smiled wistfully. "Your mother must have been a good woman."

"Yes," Jace agreed. "Yes, she was a kind, gentlewomen. And very beautiful too."

"Do you miss her much?" asked Aline, oddly interested.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "I suppose so, yes; my father was away so often during my childhood that I spent much of it with her. She was very gentle, very loving, and she always wanted me to take time from my lessons to be with her."

"What a kind lady," Aline said as an after thought. "And your father, he was a good man, too?"

Jace's face was in shadow. "I didn't know my father that well; he was away at court often and I didn't want to go with him. I was happy enough with my mother and tutors."

"And did you know the princess then?" Aline asked.

Jace paused, considering the woman he had grown to know and love more than himself. "I was told of my engagement to her when I was young, and I didn't like the idea…I thought the princess would be a spoiled, pampered, mean brat. I was wrong, obviously."

Aline fell silent at that and watched Jace carefully from her place beside him. Slowly, she sipped the warm tea and felt a rush of heat. It had been so long since she'd been in the presence of other humans, it was hard to remember what was expected of a conversation. "Then you are happy with her?"

"By the Angel, yes," Jace said incredulously.

"Not the Angel," Aline whispered, and then took a long drink of her tea.

"Excuse me?" asked Jace, frowning.

"The Angel," Aline explained, and she was nervous with Jace's golden eyes digging into her. "No one prays to the Angel anymore, not since Jonathan took the throne…"

"Then who do they pray to?" Jace asked gently, not wanting to scare her.

Aline shook her head frantically, terror clear in her eyes. "I-I can't. I don't want her to see me, if she sees you-if she sees you, she calls you to her…"

"Whatever do you mean?" Jace placed his hand on her thin arm, rubbing gently. "She sees you?"

"The Great Goddess," Aline whispered in a harsh, possessed rasp. "If you think of her, if you speak of her, she will turn her eye on you, and then she will call you to her and if she calls-if she calls-" Aline was shivering, and she kept shaking her head vigorously.

"Aline, tell me."

"No, no, please, don't make me…" She snatched his hand and tightened her grip, pleading uselessly. "Please, I don't want to go to her. She'll call me, she'll want me, and then, and then…"

"And then what, Aline, what?" Jace allowed her to keep wringing his hand, but he took her chin and held her firmly. "Speak quickly, and she won't know."

"She'll know! She always knows!" Aline tore her chin away. "She sees, always sees, her eyes are always watching, and once she has you in her eye you can't escape. She'll wrap you up in her darkness and power and-"

This sounds like possession, Jace thought uncomfortably. What has Jonathan released into this world? "Aline, I can protect you, I'm a shadowhunter, a warrior; if you speak to me, I will guard you against her darkness."

Aline scrambled out of Jace's reach and threw herself to rug before the hearth, covering her face and muttering a string of prayers and curses. "No, no, no! Not me, please, not me. Don't make me speak, don't make me tell…"

"Aline?"

"Don't make me tell!" she shrieked, and began pulling at her hair listlessly. As if it didn't bother her, Aline tore at her roots, pulling out clumps of dirty, dark hair; Jace rushed to her side, tugging her wrists away from her hair.

"Aline, stop it, stop this madness," Jace ordered, but she was squirming violently, trying to break his grasp. "Aline!"

"You can't make me!" she cried, and threw all her weight backward, freeing herself. She returned at once to her hair, petting it soothingly.

"I won't, Aline, I won't make you say anything," Jace said desperately, watching a few more clumps come out, some with blood on the ends. "I won't make you do anything!"

"Don't ask me, don't ask me," she repeated, meeting his eyes with her wide, confused gaze.

"I won't," said Jace quickly. "I'll tell you a story, alright; you'd like that, wouldn't you? A story?" Aline made a strange whining noise and rocked back and forth. "Right, I'll tell you a story I read as a boy, my favorite, about a great warrior who was brave and cunning and defended the helpless. You'd like that?" Without waiting for Aline to answer, Jace continued:

"Rage-Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles,

Murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,

Hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,"

Jace continued in this vein for a long time, recalling the story with an impeccable memory, and gradually, Aline began to relax. She dropped her hands from her hair and instead drew her knees up to her chest and held onto them. Her rocking stopped eventually, and the small whining noises that had been escaping her ceased. As Jace came to the close of the story, Aline was watching him closely, her eyes no longer glassy and confused, but with some small spark of life. Jace finished with a sigh and gave her an uncertain smile.

"Did you like it?" Aline bit her lip and Jace guessed that Aline hadn't really heard a word of it, but that the sound of his voice, the presence of another human, was far better than some story. "It's my favorite."

She clamped her teeth together and ground them. "Favorite."

"Yes," Jace said. "Yes, it is. Would you like some more tea? I'll warm it up for us."

Jace rose without her answer had picked up the pot when the door flew open and Clary hurled herself forward in a swirl of skirts. She saw Jace, heaved a dry sob, and rushed to him. "Jace!"

"What is it?" He wrapped both his arms about Clary, and she wept into his chest. "What happened?"

"Jonathan, he did something horrible, and he said it was for some goddess-"

"Quiet!" Jace said loudly, his eyes going to Aline who had stood in Clary's presence.

"W-what?" Clary stuttered.

Jace's eyes moved to Aline, who was looking like a ragged mess, and back to her meaningfully. "Why don't you ask Aline to run you a bath?" he suggested.

Clary's eyes widened with understanding. "Yes, yes…Aline, would you like to run me a hot bath? And make me fresh tea. And lay out my bed things."

Aline dipped into a bow. "Yes, princess."

As soon as she was gone, Clary turned to Jace. "What happened? What's wrong with her?"

Jace told her about the Great Goddess and her panic attack. "I don't know what the Great Goddess is, and I don't know how it came to be here, but Aline is terrified. Do you think Jonathan had anything to do with it?"

"Yes." Clary shuddered and then told Jace of the woman and her baby and the demons. "She killed her own baby, Jace, she-she just bashed it's head and-"

"Stop," said Jace, his face pale. "Don't say anymore. I don't want to hear it."

"This certainly explains the village we passed through, doesn't it? Whoever this goddess is, she's replaced the religion of the Angel throughout Idris, and Jonathan's using her name to commit his atrocities."

Jace sat down, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not so sure it's Jonathan doing this, Clary."

"How do you mean?"

"Aline spoke of the goddess as if she were alive, as if she were here. She kept saying the goddess could see her and she would call Aline to her. And the woman you saw today, she said the goddess had sent her a vision and summoned her and her child. This seems to me more like possession."

"Possession?" Clary gasped. "You-you think Jonathan is being possessed by this goddess?"

"I can't say for sure what's going on, Clary," Jace sighed. "But it sounds as if this goddess is a real person, at least in a physical sense, and that her powers are great enough that she knows the minds of the others and can control them."

"Like Jonathan."

"Perhaps," Jace agreed. "Perhaps the demon whose blood Valentine took was this goddess. It would have to be one the most powerful of greater demons to poison a shadowhunter like it did Jonathan, and this goddess seems right up his alley."

Clary sat beside Jace, allowing him to hold her. "Oh, Jace, that poor baby."

Jace kissed her hair. "It wanted the baby," he mused. "It told the mother to sacrifice the baby to her. Why?"

"Don't demons want life? I suppose the more evil the demon the more horrible its tastes," Clary shrugged.

"Is there a library around here somewhere?" Jace asked after a moment. "With histories and demonologies?"

"My father kept a personal library, yes, in the north tower. Why?"

"Can you get Jonathan to let me and Aline go there during the days?" asked Jace.

She thought of the small bundle of baby, gurgling at its mother just before the woman thrashed the life from it. Slowly, Clary's eyes roved out to the window, even now, in the early evening, it was pitch black out. "What days, Jace? This demon, this thing, she'll kill us all."

"Can you get me to the library, Clary?" Jace asked again, kissing her cold lips.

"Yes, I'll convince Jonathan," she murmured.

"Then I'll see what I can't find about some mother demoness," Jace said decidedly. "Now, go take a bath and come to bed. I tire of this day and everything in it."