Hello,everyone, sorry this is late, but I hope it's worth it! Thanks for reading!

High and Dry

Isabelle leaned back against the tree in Magnus's back yard and tried to relax her sore muscles. She hurt everywhere: in her legs, in her arms, in her back, in places she didn't even know could hurt. A muscle in her calf cramped suddenly, and her toes twisted into uncomfortable shapes. She panted while she massaged the sore spot, trying to remind herself firmly why she was putting herself through her paces.

You want to help Jace and Clary, you want to help your friends, you want to be a better person, she said to herself. It was like her personal mantra: be a better person, be a better person, be a better person. You want to be a better person-who's not a human, she added privately, thinking of Simon.

Ever since her experience with Simon a week prior, she had been haunted by his last words he cried as he'd ran from the room. Isabelle had stared after him, feeling profoundly confused by him. By the time she'd risen up and gone after him, Simon had left the house. She had wanted to follow him out into the street, but Luke had snatched her back, while she shouted after Simon. The next day, she'd hoped he would come back and she might talk to him, but Simon didn't show. She waited another day, and still, Simon didn't make an appearance; Isabelle asked after him from Magnus, who shook his head hopelessly. Isabelle spoke to Alec, pleading with him to go speak to Simon for her, but he said that when's he'd gone to his old house, Simon had refused him on the grounds he was too busy. Isabelle had gone as far to ask Jocelyn if Simon had spoken to her, but Jocelyn hadn't heard from him. At a complete loss, Isabelle had thrown herself into training for her upcoming Ascension.

It doesn't help much, does it? she asked herself, rubbing her legs. You're getting better with the blade, but it doesn't make Simon go away. Or come back.

Isabelle leaned her head back and stared up at the leaves the tree and then further, into the perpetual darkness. Of all the things she'd come to miss while hiding in Alicante, it was the sky; the beautiful, infinite blue of day or the blanket of black, dotted with thousands of stars. Instead, she tried to picture them now.

"How is your training going?"

Isabelle jumped a little and glanced around. Luke was padding toward her, smiling his usual tired smile. "I haven't been this sore since my first week in the palace."

Luke laughed. "Yes, well, it doesn't get much better, mind you. The practices are more often, the lessons harder, and the instructors less forgiving."

"Don't remind me," Isabelle growled. "I keep thinking that once I'm a shadowhunter, I just get to mark myself up and be powerful and graceful and strong, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

"So much more," Luke said, and then nodded to the space beside her. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead," said Isabelle politely, and scooted over a little for him.

Luke sank down and gave himself a shake, tossing hair out of his face. It was gestures like that that really reminded Isabelle Luke wasn't human. She had a difficult time believing this kind, gentle, well-read man could be the monstrous dog that had been guarding Clary for years, and usually, Luke kept up good appearances. Sometimes, though, he'd do things so clearly wolf like she had to pause to let it sink in.

He's a werewolf, not just a man, said Isabelle. He's a man but he's a werewolf, too. He's both… "Luke, I have a question," she said suddenly.

"I might have an answer," Luke said kindly.

"It's about Simon, something he said."

Luke looked sympathetic. "Have you not spoken with him since that night?"

Isabelle stared down at her hands. "No," she admitted. "I've tried, but…"

Luke didn't push her further. "Simon is facing a challenging time in his life, Isabelle. Everything he's ever known, his family, his past, his home, it's gone. He's very alone, I think, and very confused."

"But what did I do?" Isabelle asked suddenly.

She was surprised when Luke laughed. "Isabelle, it's not about you. Simon has just gone through a very life shattering experience, and he's trying to come to terms with it. This problem isn't you, Isabelle, it's him; it's his struggle to deal with the fact that he's a vampire now."

"He said it's because I'm too human," Isabelle argued. "He said that!"

"You are human," he reminded her. "You're very much human, and he's very much not. I'm sure he was afraid he was going to hurt you."

Isabelle blinked. That's ridiculous, completely ridiculous; I was the one who grew up in the country, making a living off the land, struggling to survive. "Hurt me?"

"I know it seems odd-"

"It's absurd! How could he possibly hurt me? Simon is some lord's son, just some prim, pompous, proper…" Isabelle kept muttering to herself, but she sensed Luke's amusement more than anything, and she hated being laughed at. "It's the truth. Simon has never known anything but his pampered life, and he thinks he can hurt me?"

"He can," Luke said softly. "Simon does a good job playing the proper lord, a good job being a gentleman, but he's very dangerous. Vampires are strong, fast, hunters; they have an impeccable sense of smell, too, and the young ones have a hard time controlling their instincts. Why do you think Jocelyn was so scared for Clary when Simon turned?"

"Because she doesn't trust him," Isabelle said, determined not to accept the truth.

"No, because Jocelyn knows the risks of a new born vampire." Luke ran a hand through his hair. "Simon is trying to navigate the waters of his vampirism, and it's going to be difficult enough without the added temptation of your blood."

"It was my blood?" Isabelle asked, surprised. "I thought-well, I thought it was my…behavior." She looked down, blushing furiously.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "While I'm sure your behavior would have made even the best of men give pause, it was your blood that pushed him past his limit. I don't know if you can understand just how intoxicating blood is to a vampire, especially a newborn. Simon probably felt sick just being around you."

"So it was me," Isabelle sighed.

"You can't think like that," Luke said quickly. "These things will pass, and Simon will grow stronger, but for now, I'm sure he's afraid that he'll hurt you if he spends too much time in your company."

"But, he won't," said Isabelle swiftly. "He's a good man, and he wouldn't hurt me."

"He might not be able to help it," Luke said. "Young vampires can sometimes be completely consumed by their blood lust, and Simon must recognize that. He's just doing what he can to keep you safe."

"I'm not afraid of him, Luke, I'm not afraid he's going to hurt me. I trust him."

Luke shrugged. "Perhaps he doesn't trust himself?"

Isabelle looked away, off into the trees behind Magnus's house, and she wished fervently that she could just walk out into them and somehow come out in her home in the country, away from the demons and shadowhunters and handsome vampire men. "I wish he would. Did he ever think that maybe it's hurting me?"

"Emotional pain is far more bearable, I think, than physical," he chuckled, and tried to raise a smile from her. "I think Simon will come around shortly; I think he's just adjusting and it's a constant struggle. He would be fool, though, if he never saw your face again."

"As soon as I'm a shadowhunter I'm going to march over to his home and make him speak with me," said Isabelle firmly. "He can't hurt me then."

Luke nodded. "Are you ready for it?"

Isabelle bit her lip. "I haven't really thought of it, to be honest. I know I'm going to be a shadowhunter, and I know I'm going to carry a new weight on my shoulders, but I just don't realize what it all means. I can never go back, and sometimes it scares me, but then I want it even more."

"Yes, it can seem that way before your first permanent Marks. I was shaking like a leaf on a tree when they marched me up to the Gard." Luke smiled faintly and Isabelle saw something in his eyes, some memory that was both wonderful and painful.

"Was your family there?"

"Oh, yes, and Valentine and Jocelyn, too," Luke said. "I don't think I could have gone through with it if it weren't for those two."

"Valentine?" Isabelle spat. "You and he were friends?"

Luke stared at her. "Friends? Isabelle, Valentine and I were parabatai."

"I don't know…"

"Warriors bonded together, closer than brothers," Luke explained. "He was my best friend when I was at school, and a constant source of encouragement for me. I was a poor student, if truth be told, and rather timid, but Valentine drew me out. Besides, I had Jocelyn."

"You knew Jocelyn before?" Isabelle thought of the queen she had known growing up and the woman she had recently met. "What was she like?"

Luke laughed. "Jocelyn and I had grown up close. My family kept a small plantation out by the Fairchild Manor; we met as young children and spent out summers together. She was a wonderful person, a fair bit like Clary: strong-tempered, determined, but sweet."

"I can't really see it," Isabelle admitted.

"Yes, it's hard to believe," Luke said contemplatively. "Before she met Valentine, before she knew just how amazing a shadowhunter she was, before she understood how beautiful a woman, she was, she was just a girl with freckles and red hair."

"Then Valentine came along," Isabelle muttered. "Does that man ruin everything he touches? Jocelyn, Jonathan, and Clary, thank the Angel, Jace came along when he did."

"It wasn't always that way, Isabelle." Luke shifted uncomfortably. "You must understand, Valentine wasn't always so horrible. He was charismatic, talented, charming; everyone loved him, and to be around him was like standing in his glow. He was amazing, and when you were around him, so were you."

"But, the things he did…"

"Yes, but by the time we realized what he wanted, it was too late." Luke shook his head. "And then, when I confronted him about attack on Alicante, and the night I was bitten…things just went wrong."

Isabelle nodded her head though she might not have understood. "Not that it matters much anymore, since he's dead."

"Perhaps," Luke said, "but the consequences of his life and actions have brought us to this. Think on it, Isabelle, where would you be if not for Valentine Morgenstern?"

With my family on my farm, she thought, and realized that her life now was some strange, insane mix of unbearable sadness and magnificent joy. She had lost her mother and father, had watched her home burn, and had been forced into slavery, but she had met Clary and Jace, and she found this amazing city, and was on the verge of becoming a shadowhunter. Life is surely a strange mix of pain and pleasure, and I suppose it's just about finding the happy medium.

"Why is nothing in this library written in a language no more recent than Latin?" Jace grumbled, squinting at a page. "It never makes sense."

Aline was seated across from Jace, and when he looked up at her, she jumped and nodded her head. "I can barely read as is; it must be dreadful, translating."

Jace smiled wanly. "I'll teach you to read, if you'd like," he offered and Aline fingered the edge of a book. "Do you want to learn to read?"

"I…I'm not sure," Aline said softly. "If I read, I'll have to learn the religious texts, and then I'll have to read about her."

At least we're getting somewhere. Since Aline's first breakdown at the mention of the strange new goddess, Jace had been very gentle with her, speaking just enough of the issue to encourage her to speak, but not enough to push her to the breaking point. It had been a little over the week, and she had conceded to referring to the goddess as 'her'. Jace couldn't quite quash the feeling of sympathy he had for Aline, and had been urging Clary to treat her tenderly.

"No you won't," said Jace with a quick smile. "There're plenty of books to read, plenty of stories about other places and other times."

"Maybe," Aline hedged, and then pointed to the book Jace had before him. "Will I have to read that?"

"Oh, no," said Jace, flipping through the pages with his thumb. "Latin is a dead language, and absolutely pointless for the majority of the population. You'd do better with English as it is."

"That's good, because I'm not sure I wanted to help you with the reading," she said, and Jace was surprised to see the smallest smile on her face and the barest glimmer in her eyes. She was trying to laugh, trying to joke with him.

"You don't think this," said Jace, indicating the book, "is not a life-fulfilling, satisfying endeavor? Why, Aline, I'm appalled."

Aline bit her lip. "Well…no."

Jace pushed the book aside. "Yes, I completely agree. How about I find you a nice book of pictures of the country while I keep digging through this mess?"

"I'd like that," she said and looked around the room.

Jace rose and carefully began scouring the bookshelves. Valentine's private study had gone untouched during Jonathan's acquisition, and Jace sensed just as Clary had, that this place had a feeling of abandonment and loss. He could picture this place, this library, in ruins, the books molded by time and dust, the shelves rotted and decayed. He ran his fingers over the shelves, considering the texts before him. Most of Valentine's private books were war texts, history texts, books for shadowhunters, demonologies, stories of the Angel, but nothing that seemed suitable for Aline just then.

"What do you like?" Jace asked, considering an atlas.

"I don't know," Aline answered, watching Jace with careful eyes.

"Well, do you like pictures of magic things, or country sides, or big bustling cities?" Jace opened the atlas and frowned; it only contained images of Idris.

"I like things like home." Aline stood and plodded over to Jace's side. "Farms, and trees, and flowers."

No idea where I'm going to find that, Jace thought. No one in this castle has painted like that since Jocelyn lived here.

"I've got it," Jace said suddenly, smiling at her. "Aline, you stay here, I'll be right back."

"But you can't go," Aline said quickly. "The king said we were to stay-"

"What's the worst that will happen?" Jace threw over his shoulder as he left.

The journey from the north tower down to the main part of the castle was eerily silent. When Clary had escorted Jace there, he had, as usual, been more concerned with her and what she was saying, and hadn't noticed the quiet. Now, as he went down by himself, Jace was hyperaware of his surroundings and the lack of life there. He hurried his pace.

As the bottom of the stairs, Jace peered quickly out the window of the castle, onto the back lawns. He saw, to his discomfort, that the court and Jonathan and Clary were out on the green, playing bowls on the frosty grass. Even from his distance, Jace could see Clary's flaming red hair caught in a breeze, and he also saw Jonathan, lurking close by her side, whispering conversation in her ear. He saw the tender gestures he made toward her, the way he kept her arm tucked in his, his fingers sweeping back stray hairs.

It's wrong, it's so wrong for him to be like that, Jace thought with disgust. He's her brother and he's touching her like he was her lover.

Jace bared his teeth in a silent snarl and clenched his hands together. He had thought when he'd met Simon Lewis, he'd known jealously over Clary. After all, they had been friends for so long, and Clary had simply fallen into friendship with him after so many months apart. He had watched Clary laughing with him, speaking to him, worrying over him, and he's been irked to no end. But, even then, he had known that Clary was his. Jace was not fool enough to think Clary would leave him for Simon. He wasn't foolish enough not to see how well suited he and Clary were to each other, and, on a much more personal level, how compatible they were.

This is was different, though. Jonathan wasn't just some foolish lord's son with money and land, he was a trained shadowhunter, and, what was more, he was the most powerful force in their lives right now. Jonathan had made very clear from the first that he didn't view him and Clary as siblings, and he had shown how his power had driven the land to madness. Natural order didn't matter anymore when you were all-powerful; Jonathan could make the world to his desire, and his desire was Clary.

The only consolation Jace had was the knowledge that he was bound permanently to Clary, and that to kill him, Jonathan would have to kill her. So long as he lived, Jace would protect her, and he would live as long as her. Still, he didn't doubt that Jonathan was trying to find a way to break the bond formed between them; he just hoped Clary's skill with rune making was strong enough, and, even if Jonathan couldn't kill him, he certainly had plenty of ways of getting what he wanted. Jace's greatest fear was Clary's selflessness. She would go to any lengths to protect him, and Jonathan would surely demand sacrifice from her soon.

I won't let him have it, Jace thought fiercely. I won't let that monster touch her.

Unable to bear the sight of Jonathan with his wife, he left the window and hurried to Clary's old rooms. The doors were unlocked, the windows left open. There was sign that someone else was inhabiting the rooms in the glowing embers in the fire and the mussed bed, but aside from that, the room seemed unchanged.

Demons take little, Jace observed, curious against his better judgment. It only needs the bed so that the human body is uses doesn't decompose.

He moved silently through the place, paused before the fire place, and ran his fingers along the mantle. As he had expected, the art book was still there, undamaged by time or new owners. Jace flicked through it quickly before leaving the room, chased by the silence and his own memories of the place. When he returned to the library, Aline was seated on the window embrasure, letting a cool breeze stroke her face and hair.

Jace studied her from his vantage point. She was still thin, but her belly wasn't bloated anymore and a few more weeks of proper meals would have her looking like herself again. Her hair, Clary had insisted be washed daily, and brushed and held back in a serviceable bun; Aline had stopped running her fingers through it, tears pieces out, and it wasn't reminiscent of a rat's nest anymore. In the proper light, Jace saw that her face wasn't so pale anymore, at least not deathly, at any rate. The human companionship must have been doing her good.

"Aline, I have a book for you, a special book," he said, holding it out like an offering. "It's only pictures, and they're nice, too. Just families and country sides and landscapes."

Aline looked at the book dubiously, but she snatched it quickly from Jace's hands and held it against her chest, looking hard at him. "Where did you get it?"

"It' belongs to Clary," Jace said kindly, and then added on a whim, "She thinks you'd like it."

This seemed to brighten Aline immensely, and she smiled nervously. "Does she really want me to see it?"

"She thinks you might like the pictures," Jace nodded. "Why don't you sit here by the window while I read some of these old books? You can see the green in the back gardens from here; tell me when you see the court coming in."

"If you insist," said Aline, but in reality, she was pleased to have an order that was a simple as watching the lords and ladies. She plopped down on the cushioned seat and opened the book slowly, taking her time as she went from picture to picture.

Jace watched her a little while, making sure she enjoyed the book, and then returned to his work. It was hard going, reading the ancient text; his Latin wasn't bad, but the partchment itself was old, and places seemed to have decayed. There seemed little though for him to go off of, and as he discarded one text and moved to the next, he sensed the mounting ask before him. There were thousands of demons, hundreds of greater demons, and to go through all of them, looking for a single one who had an affiliation for children was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Still, what's the alternative? Jace asked himself as he read a possible paragraph. Jonathan mentioned to Clary that he was preparing for victory, and that means he's going to need his strength with him. Do we just wait until he summons the demoness?

Jace tossed a parchment aside an hour later, sighing heavily. "By the Angel, this is impossible! Hundreds of greater demons, and they all want children."

Aline looked up and her lip trembled. "She's the Great Mother," she whispered, and then stuck her nose back in the pictures.

Great Mother? Jace wondered. He had heard of many demons, but none that went by that name. "Is the court still on the green?"

"Yes, but they seem to be tiring of their games and Jonathan is speaking to them. Perhaps they will return soon?"

"Excellent," Jace muttered. "A day wasted and nothing to show for it. We should go back to the room so you can help Clary dress."

Aline snapped the book shut and stood at once. "Of course, I forgot all about it!"

Well, at least she's happy about it, Jace thought tiredly, and then nodded to the door. The two see went quickly back to the room at wait. Jace had just leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed, when he heard an angry snarl like an animal and a sharp cry of distress. He jumped to his feet and shot through the door as Aline screamed and dropped the gown she was holding.

"…you lie!"

Jace arrived just in time to see Jonathan raise his hand and watch Clary dropped into a crouch to avoid his blow. "Stop!" Jace ordered, darting into the line of Jonathan's blow. Behind him, he felt Clary tremble at his feet. "What are you-"

Jonathan's blow fell anyway, and he struck Jace with enough force to send him tumbling to the side. "I don't take orders from worthless slaves," Jonathan spat, aiming a kick at Jace's side. "You should leave well enough alone."

"Jonathan, stop!" Clary cried, and lunged at his kicking foot. The force the Clary's jump overbalanced Jonathan and the two crumpled to the floor. "It's not his fault."

Jonathan kicked Clary once, and she rolled off him and then brought the back of his hand across her face. "Of course not, it could never be precious, little Jace's fault; no, it's all me, isn't it?"

"I didn't say that," Clary panted, holding her hand to her cheek. "Please, it's not what you think, Jonathan; you're my brother-"

"I don't want to hear," Jonathan snapped, rising slowly up and looking down at Clary furiously. "I have given you everything, Clary, and that's how you really feel? You could never feel for me that way?"

"Jonathan, I love you, but-"

"Liar!" Jonathan roared and then swung his foot back to kick her again. "Your feelings betray you, dear sister, you're disgusted by me. Admit it!"

"I don't," Clary cried, shaking her head. "I think you're sick and need help."

"Oh, yes, that must be it." Jonathan circled around her. Jace rolled over, shaking the blackness out of his eyes. He saw the way Clary was covering her face protectively, and clambered over to her. Jonathan's eyes darted to him, and Jace was horrified to see that Jonathan's eyes were black, very black, so black that even the whites of his eyes were gone.

What are you? Jace wondered.

"You're my brother."

"Not anymore," Jonathan shot. "If you will not love me the way I deserve, then I shall not treat you the way you deserve. If you wish to love a slave, than you may live as a slave."

"Jonathan, please, let me help you," Clary pleaded.

"I don't need your help," he laughed, and then reached down, catching her hair and tugging at it, tearing the precious jeweled combs out. "I need nothing from you, and want only one thing."

Jace lurched forward, trying to stop Jonathan before he hurt Clary. She managed to loosen his grip enough so that she could crawl to Jace, but Jonathan grabbed the hem of her beautiful gown and tugged it, tearing it up the skirt and to her waist. She screamed in absolute terror and Jace knew she was reliving her worst nightmares.

"Jonathan, stop it!" he ordered again, and grabbed Clary and pulled her into his arms.

"Jace, he's gone mad, Jace," she panted, hiding her face in chest.

"Quit hiding in you precious lover's arms and face me, Clary!" Jonathan roared and tore the skirt again, ripping it up to the bodice. "These find things I have given you, I take them back! The position I have appointed you, I take back! The respect my court has given you, I take it all back! You will have nothing! Nothing, you worthless, filthy whore, and you will regret having ever shunned me."

"Leave her alone!" Jace cried over Jonathan's wild snarls, and he tried to swat the other's boy's hands away. "Have you gone mad?"

No sooner had Jace said it then Jonathan threw his hand back and cackled like a hyena. Jace thought that maybe he was imagining things, but he was almost sure that Jonathan's face was contorted, like the bones beneath his skin were trying to push themselves out of his flesh. His eyes were larger than before, and black and glassy; when he smiled, his mouth opened wider than usual and his teeth were startlingly white.

"I can be whatever I want, you whelp!" Jonathan crowed and Clary whined against Jace. "I am King of Idris, and soon, I'll be King of this World, and when that day comes, you will tremble at my feet, united in your slavery to me."

"Yes, yes, whatever you want," Jace said quickly, watching Jonathan's face bend oddly. "Just leave us here now and I will bring Clary to her senses."

Jonathan's eyes alighted on Jace and he licked his lips. "Yes, yes, little, Jace, you can make Clary see reason, make her see what she has done to herself in her rejection of my love. You two can live as my slaves until Clary accepts my terms."

"Yes," Jace agreed. "Yes, we will, but just leave her to me." Jace could feel Clary's small body, and she had stopped trembling, but had reached that point where she stopped feeling at all. She was nestled against him, staring at her hands with wide, unseeing eyes. "Please, Jonathan, I can help you, Clary and I are bound together, remember? She will hear me out, she will believe me if I tell her to. Let me help!"

Jonathan pulled back, and Jace saw that his face was devoid of all human emotion, and was darkly contemplative, hungry in a terrible way. "Yes, yes, you can be of use to me…" He laughed to himself again and then stormed into Clary's room.

Aline came scrambling out like a bat out of hell, shrieking in her terror and tripping over her feet into the floor by the fire place. She curled up there, muttering and rubbing her arms until they were red. The sound of destruction and devastation echoed from the rooms, but Jace Held onto Clary through it all. Jonathan emerged, looking more human, but still furious.

"Aline!" he shouted, and she yelped. "From now on, Clarissa and Jace are to join you in servitude to me. Clary and Jace have a new position: entertainment in my court; you will prepare them for that tomorrow. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," Aline shuddered and then curled up tighter.

Jonathan stalked past and paused at the sight of Clary and Jace sprawled on the floor. "I will see you two tomorrow." He laughed once more and left, leaving Jace with a sobbing Aline and an empty Clary.

This is surely madness.