Starting next week I'll be going into final exams for a while. I want to keep posting chapters regularly, but I might get behind as I study, so please bear with me! I hope you enjoy the chapter.
The Master's Tools
"Max, you really should go to bed. I think Isabelle will be furious with me if she learns I let your stay up this late."
Max, who was seated in a large chair before the handsome fire in Jocelyn's study, glanced up and gave her the most forlorn look he could manage. "But, it's so cold up there.
Jocelyn eyed him closely. "I can put you in one of the rooms with a hearth and start a fire."
"I need to practice reading," Max said next, indicating the book on his lap. "Everyone else in school knows how and I could fall behind."
"You can hardly ready by firelight, Max, you'll hurt your eyes," Jocelyn said, but she could feel her will weakening.
"It's lonely upstairs," said Max reasonably.
Jocelyn raised one eyebrow and peered closely at the boy. For so long she had lived alone, not needed, and unloved, but here was a little boy, hardly old enough to know of war and demons, and she could feel that warmth she used to get every time she looked into Clary or Jonathan's eyes stirring in her. Carefully, she placed down the map of Idris she had been studying and smiled up at Max.
"I could go with you, then," Jocelyn said softly.
Max looked uncertain, recalling Clary's immediate dislike of this woman. "Would you…read me a story?"
"I could," Jocelyn offered. "But, you'd have to pick it out, as I'm not too familiar with the stories young children like to hear nowadays. Would you like that?"
"Can I have warm milk?" Max asked next.
"Yes," Jocelyn said.
"With bread?"
Save me, Angel, I can't say no to this little boy, thought Jocelyn ruefully. "Of course."
"Well, okay then," Max sniffed. "But you have to read to me until I fall asleep. That's what Clary and Isabelle used to do."
Jocelyn smiled tiredly. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Head upstairs and wash off while I get your milk ready."
As Max padded out of the room, a spring in his step, Jocelyn rose and closed her books, set aside her lists of numbers, and brushed the pencils and quills into a drawer. Outside her window, the city was in its usual nighttime darkness, almost completely perfectly black but for the eerie green lights that were mounted on the walls. She wondered for a moment where Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus were, and if they had been successful in summoning the demon yet. For a moment, she was terrified that something had gone horribly wrong and they were all dead. She knew, of course, that without a thought she would have taken Max in, but she didn't know if Max would take her.
He loved Clary so much, and she despised me. Jocelyn shivered a bit, thinking of that fateful day when she ordered Clary to hide in the cellar. She couldn't forget the look of betrayal in her daughter's eyes. Does he know how much she hated me? Does he blame me? Jocelyn caught her reflection in the glass and cringed; she looked drawn and tired, with a pale, pasty face, dull eyes, and lank, stringy hair. Does it matter?
After a moment of consideration, Jocelyn went and closed the doors on the fire, darkening the room until she could only see the faint light coming from the next room. In the kitchen, she poured milk in a pot and placed it over the wood stove, watching it simmer. She had a memory of heating milk for Clary and Jonathan on cold, wet days, and smiled sadly at the pot. As an afterthought, she found honey and added a few spoonfuls. As the milk heated, she found a loaf of bread and cut a few thick slices for Max, slapping butter on them.
With strange care, she poured the milk and honey into a large, thick mug, and balanced a plate of bread on her arm before heading upstairs. The lights were all out but for the light from the room where Max was waiting. When she entered, Max was standing on a chair he had pushed to the window, and was looking out. In the window reflection, Jocelyn saw how nervous he looked.
"Max, come away from the window, it's cold," Jocelyn said kindly, and he turned to face her.
"When are Isabelle and Alec coming back?"
Jocelyn bit her lip. "I don't know. They had to leave the city to summon the demon, and I don't know how far beyond the boarder they went." When Max's eyes widened in fear, she quickly added, "But I would think it was quite a distance they had to walk. I wouldn't be surprised if they were gone the entire night. Don't worry, Max."
Max sat down on the chair, touched his toes to the ground, and slipped off it before coming to his bed and climbing under the covers. "Do you think they're going to find out how to free Jace and Clary?"
Jocelyn had to look down before she answered. "I hope so."
"Do you think Jace and Clary are alright?" Max asked, thinking of all the things Jace had promised him, all the days he was supposed to have to learn and play. "I want them to come back."
"As do I," said Jocelyn sadly. "But there is still hope."
Max watched Jocelyn as she crossed the room and settled on the bed. "I don't think Jonathan would have killed them."
Jocelyn hand jerked against her will and the bread on the plate slid sharply. "W-why do you say that?"
Max shrugged. "I don't know, but I don't think he would go to such lengths to search for her if he didn't want her alive. I think they're alive."
I guess sometimes it takes a child's hope, Jocelyn thought weakly. "Hopefully, Max, this will all be over soon. Once Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus discover the nature of the demoness controlling Jonathan-"
"What's going to happen to Jonathan?" Max cut across her quickly, looking closely at her.
"How do you mean?"
Max squirmed. "He was never good to me, and I never liked him, but if-if he really is being controlled by some demon, what's going to happen to him?"
An image of a small boy the same size as Max but with hair as white as snow and eyes a lovely green, flashed by her. "I don't think there is much that can be done for Jonathan now. He's been poisoned for too long, his soul too consumed by the darkness; I do not think there is a way to save him now."
"Clary wanted to," Max said.
"Clary is a dreamer," sighed Jocelyn. "I just hope it doesn't get her hurt."
Max smiled suddenly up at Jocelyn. "It won't, she's brave and smart. And besides, she has Jace with her."
"Yes, yes she has Jace with her, that's true," Jocelyn agreed softly and then handed him the glass of milk. "Now, drink your milk Max, or we'll be up all night, you and I."
"I'm fine with that," Max said excitedly.
Jocelyn chuckled warmly. "Yes, well I can't say I am. Now, come, here's the milk and the bread. Which book have you chosen?"
Max held the large mug with both hands and had to jerk his chin instead to a volume on the nightstand. Jocelyn reached across Max for the book. She smiled. "Do you even know what this says?"
Max peeped up over the rim of his glass. "No."
"It's Spanish, Max, do you know what that is?"
"No, but the writing looked pretty," Max observed, glancing again at the loopy letters and accent marks. "What does it say?"
Jocelyn chuckled. "This is the language of a country called Spain, somewhere far to the south of Idris. This is a famous text, Don Quixote."
"Have you been to Spain?" Max asked curiously.
"Once…a long time ago." Jocelyn ran her hand lovingly over the cover of the book. "When I fled from Valentine, I didn't immediately come here. I didn't know that Alicante was still inhabited at first so I wandered far in my travels. I saw so many places beyond our own, but they were all the same somehow."
"Did everyone know about shadowhunters and demons and werewolves and vampires and such?" Max asked excitedly.
"No, and that was the odd thing," Jocelyn said, while Max sipped his milk. "No one knew about demons, but they got on all the same. I suppose it's only knowing that makes the demons real."
"Were the other places the same as here?" Max took a large bite of bread.
"Yes and no," Jocelyn said thoughtfully. "Spain was warm and bright, the houses were every color of the rainbow and the people wore clothing in much the same shades. There was dancing and singing and such music that I wondered how I hadn't heard it all the way in Idris."
"And the other places?" Max pressed, sitting back against his pillows.
"England…it was so cold but so majestic. The architecture, the history, and such lovely plays. I've never seen such acting before, it was like being part of the plays, part of the stories." She smiled faintly at the memory and Max stretched under the blankets, resting his head on the pillow. "And then there was France…"
"What was France like?" Max asked, blinking up at Jocelyn.
"It was…absolutely beautiful." The memory left a look on her face that Max couldn't mistake for anything else but raw longing. "I would go back there if I could, but I don't think I'll be free to travel for a long time."
"I want to travel," Max said sleepily, thinking of all the places that were suddenly open to him. "Clary does too, she said so."
Jocelyn leaned back against the head board. "Well, there may come a time when the shadowhunters leave Idris and make homes around the world, but we must first end this war with Jonathan."
"Magnus has traveled, too, hasn't he?" Max asked. "I bet Alec, Isabelle, and I could go with him."
"Magnus has traveled far and wide," agreed Jocelyn, and she pulled her legs up onto the bed. "He wasn't born in this land, but far away in the east."
"I always thought he looked different…"Max yawned and finished off another piece of bread. "Will you read now?"
Jocelyn felt a warm smile soften her face and Max snuggled into the blankets. "Now, I'm only going to read to you till you fall asleep, you remember our deal?" Max nodded and Jocelyn winked. "It'll take me a moment to translate from one language to another, so forgive me." She cleared her throat and opened the book. "Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing…"
Jocelyn read for maybe under an hour before she glanced down and saw that Max had fallen into a deep sleep. She placed the book down on the nightstand and drew the blankets up tight around him, tucking him in as she went. The fire had burned low and she placed a few more logs on it, listening to the cracking and popping, before she turned for the door. As she reached it, though, Max turned in bed, making a soft, whining noise.
She whipped around but saw that he was still fast asleep, just twitching from some nightmare. For a moment, she thought to leave him and go down to wait for the Lightwoods and Magnus, but, wrapped in blankets, nestled down in the bed, so small and delicate, Max looked like nothing so much as her own sleeping son. Instinctively, Jocelyn went to sit on the side of the bed, running her hand through Max's hair in a motherly manner. Max stopped moaning after a few minutes, and Jocelyn found she didn't want to leave.
This is why it matters, Jocelyn said to herself, remembering her thoughts from earlier. All the lives, all the families, all the days and nights that this world has left shouldn't be covered in darkness. For too long we have hidden in shadows, but he have to step out into the light. Max rolled over and curled up against Jocelyn's side, and she settled back against the headboard and watched the fire in the hearth leap and dance, slipping into sleep.
When Isabelle came through the door, her face pasty and pale and dark purple shadows under eyes, her first instinct was to wonder where Jocelyn and her brother was. The room was dark and the fire had gone out. She placed her hands carefully on the hilt of the dagger in her belt and crept forward.
"Jocelyn?" she called out softly. "Jocelyn, we're back."
Still no answer.
Hell, Isabelle thought and darted like a ghost from dark room to dark room. She counted it lucky that it was still in the very early hours of morning and the witch-lights in the city hadn't been lit yet. She listened carefully, wondering where her brother might be, and heard the faint but distinct sound of a crackling fire.
Isabelle stalked up the stairs, her eyes alight for any danger, but when she reached the landing, there was nothing. Down the hall, she saw the open door a frail, yellow light. "Jocelyn! Max!"
No one answered and Isabelle, her heart beating erratically now, covered the space between herself and the door and threw it wide. The scene before her would have been touching had Isabelle not been bursting with news. Jocelyn had clearly fallen asleep watching Max sleep, and was now, slumped against the headboard, her face, for once, relaxed and carefree.
"Jocelyn," Isabelle hissed, coming up and giving her a gentle shake. "Jocelyn, wake up. We need to talk."
Jocelyn's eyes flew open the moment Isabelle had touched her, and her hand closed around the mug on the table, ready to smash an intruder. When she saw Isabelle before her, she relaxed, but there was a wary look in her eyes. "We wondered when you might return."
"Yes, well I'm here now and we have news. Magnus has gone to get Luke, he'll need to hear this." Isabelle cast her sleeping brother a look. "Let's go down to the kitchen."
"These impromptu war councils are beginning to take a toll on my mead supply," Jocelyn yawned, but her eyes were alive and ready.
The two women left Max for the kitchen where Jocelyn stoked a fire up and lit come candles. As they waited she found some mead and poured it into a pot to heat, while she prepared a strong cup of tea for Isabelle. Isabelle took the cup gratefully and slouched into a chair at the table; when she placed a plate of bread and butter and cheese before her, Isabelle fell on it ravenously.
"Was it that bad?"
"Magnus is going to be worse," Isabelle warned. "If you've got any meat left, get it out. Alec practically had to carry him back, he was so drained of energy."
Jocelyn frowned. "I thought you were summoning a lesser demon?"
"He did, but…well, I think what it had to say was bad." Isabelle bit her lip. "I don't know what it meant, but Magnus did and he looked sick."
"What did the demon say?" Jocelyn found a hunk of fresh chicken and another pot for water. As she made soup, Isabelle spoke.
"The same as usual. Called the demoness a mother and blabbed on about her power, but it must have meant something to Magnus because he said he understood and sent it away before it had time to get out any good threats." Isabelle recalled the look on Magnus's face. "I don't know how bad demons are, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say whatever Valentine summoned, it was pretty horrible."
"I would expect nothing less of him," Jocelyn said darkly. "If it's as bad as Magnus thinks, I don't know how we're going to fight it." Jocelyn sat at the table while the soup simmered. "Did Magnus mention the name?"
"No, just told us we had to warn you," Isabelle said. "When we got back he insisted that he and Alec go get Luke and sent me here to wake you. They should be here shortly."
Jocelyn tried to pry more information from Isabelle, but she was too tired and too confused to be much use. After about ten minutes, they heard panting and low voices, and the front door to Jocelyn's house opened. Alec came in first, supporting Magnus, and Luke followed, looking tired but worried.
"Food on the table already?" Magnus asked. "Lovely."
Alec got Magnus to the table and Jocelyn ladled a very full bowl of soup out and passed it to the warlock. He spooned out mouthfuls while Jocelyn poured a very large mug of mulled mead and placed it before him. While he ate, Luke came and drew Jocelyn aside a moment, holding her carefully by her waist.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"I've no clue, Isabelle said Magnus knows who the demoness is, but…" she looked to Magnus, whose color wasn't really returning. "He's got a bit of recovering to do."
"We haven't got time for a recovery," Luke said in a low voice, but Magnus heard him.
"You can say that again!" Magnus said loudly. "If I thought it was bad before, I was mistaken. I never thought Valentine even could summon her…Where he learned how I'll never know."
"Care to let us in on secret?" Luke pressed.
Magnus took a long drawn on the mead, finished the last of soup with a hunk of bread, and sat back in his seat. "Everyone kept calling her the Mother and the Great Goddess, I thought it was just one of those ridiculous religious things. You know," he said when he saw Jocelyn's eyebrow raised, "how some people call a god the Father?"
"I never really bought into that," Jocelyn said dismissively.
"Well, humans do," Magnus continued, "and that's what I thought they were going on about the whole time. Well, I was wrong."
"How wrong?" Luke asked.
"Very wrong." Magnus glanced about at the grim faces. "When those demons said the Great Mother, they actually meant their mother. You know, the mother of all demons, the first demon, the mother of warlocks."
"You don't mean-" Luke began, but Magnus cut him off.
"Lilith? I do," said Magnus heavily.
His statement had a strange effect on both Jocelyn and Luke who paled and seemed to lose balance. "That's not possible," Jocelyn said swiftly. "Valentine couldn't summon her, not even warlocks summon her! How could he have convinced a demon that powerful to do his bidding?"
"I have a theory about that," Magnus said, "and it makes sense. It also means Jonathan is a much bigger problem than we have been giving him credit for."
"Yes, I would say so," Luke said loudly. "If Lilith is giving him her blessing, we have an enormous problem."
"Not that I don't love melodramatic conversations about the end of world," said Isabelle sharply "but who is Lilith?"
Jocelyn shot her a quick dismissive look, but Luke took pity on her. "If you care to believe in such things, Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but she refused to obey him, and so god punished her by casting her out of the Garden and cursing her with barrenness." Luke shivered. "As she wandered in her loneliness, she came across a fallen angel, Samael, and the two…fell in love I suppose. She became pregnant with his children, but cursed as she was, they were all born dead."
"The first demons," Alec said in horror.
"Lilith is indeed the mother of demons," Luke intoned grimly. "She was the first true demon, and she bore the race that we now face."
Isabelle felt herself shivering, but Magnus looked sadly over at Alec. "Lilith is also the mother of warlocks, since we are born of a demon and human. I highly doubt our strength will be much use in this war now."
"How do you mean?" Alec asked.
"Lilith is as much my mother as the demons." Magnus looked sick. "A warlock can't fight her."
"But you can still fight demons," Alec said, sensing Magnus's self-loathing. "And you can still fight Jonathan. Jonathan isn't Lilith."
"Valentine dosed him with Lilith's blood," Jocelyn said in an empty voice. "It's corrosive, poisonous…" Jocelyn gave a sudden painful cry, like someone had struck her. "My poor, little boy…" She collapsed and Luke caught her, gathering her up in his arms and holding her tightly. She sobbed into his chest, and he kissed her hair, whispering comforting words to her.
Alec, uncomfortable with Jocelyn's pain, turned to Magnus. "But how? If Lilith is as powerful as you all say she is, how did Valentine summon her and get her blood in the first place?"
Luke, though absorbed with Jocelyn, glanced over, curious himself. "Well," Magnus said slowly, "I've thought about it, and I think I have an idea. Valentine obviously couldn't have forced Lilith to come, that's almost the same as forcing the Angel to come and obey your will. I'm not saying it's impossible, as we know, just very improbable."
"Well, then how?" Alec pressed.
"I think Valentine made a deal with her," Magnus said darkly. "I think he offered Lilith something she couldn't refuse, and she was inclined to help him."
Luke growled in the back of this throat. "I never thought he really would make a deal with the devil."
"What?" Isabelle wondered.
"A child," Magnus said, and his eyes glanced to Jocelyn sympathetically. "The one thing Lilith can't have, the one thing she was cursed from, was a child. If Valentine offered her his son in exchange for her blood, I think she would be more than willing."
"But Jonathan isn't Lilith's son," Isabelle said. "Jocelyn carried him, Jocelyn gave birth to him, she is his mother." For some reason, the idea of a demon stealing children was too repulsive for Isabelle to bear.
"Lilith made Jonathan her son with the blood," Magnus said. "It's been slowly taking him over, growing in him, possessing him. I think over the years Jonathan has been consumed by Lilith's will. It explains why the demons obey him so completely; they see Jonathan as the son of their god, their leader, their prince."
Jocelyn sobbed harder than ever and Isabelle looked horrified. "It explains why Jonathan was in love with Clary, too. I mean," she said, looking around, "we thought it was because he had demon blood, but it's more than that. If he really believes he's Lilith's son, than he and Clary aren't even related."
"No!" Jocelyn finally snarled, her face turned to face them. She looked furious. "Jonathan and Clary and brother and sister. Jonathan is my son."
Isabelle blanched. "I-I didn't mean that he wasn't-"
"I hope you really feel that way, Jocelyn," said Magnus softly. She shot him a look and he shook his head. "I have no doubt Lilith has been feeding him lies since Valentine gave him the blood. She's convinced him he's her son, and you…well, you're just some woman who abandoned him."
"I'll kill her," Jocelyn rasped, and Luke felt her shaking in his grasp. "I will kill her for taking my son."
"That's not good enough, Jocelyn. You can't fight Lilith with the edge of your sword," Magnus sighed. "Lilith knows anger, hate, and vengeance, that's been the story of her life. You can't fight fire with fire." When Jocelyn stared at him he waved his hand. "You can't fight her hate with yours, she just feeds off it. You need something else."
"Mercy," Alec said so softly it almost went unheard. "If there comes a time when you have the chance to kill Jonathan, remember that he's not the man you see before you. He was stolen from you by Lilith, but he's not to blame."
Jocelyn blinked slowly "It may be too late."
"You can't think that way," said Alec bracingly. "You have to have hope that Jonathan's still there. You have to hope that you can make him better."
"Hope?" Jocelyn laughed. "I haven't hoped in a long time. But I swear on the Angel, I'll make Lilith rue the day she took my son from me."
Magnus lowered his eyes. We can't fight hate with hate, he thought miserably. Those are the master's tools. "Be careful, Jocelyn, what you swear."
Jocelyn shot him an unfriendly look. "I need to sleep."
"I'll help you," Luke said kindly, and he supported her up the stairs and to her room.
As soon as they were gone, Alec turned to Magnus, "Can we win, Magnus, if Lilith is helping Jonathan?"
Magnus laughed hollowly. "I don't know how. She's the oldest demon, Alec, and the strongest. And what's more, she wants this. Really wants this. If she wins this war she gets it all: the humans, the world, and the son she always wanted. She won't go easy."
"Will her army be stronger?" Isabelle asked.
"Every demon she can summon, she will," Magnus sighed. "It's a lot of demons, more than you can really understand."
"Do we have any hope, then?" Alec finally asked.
Magnus looked at Alec, at his handsome face and caring eyes, at the way he sat, so attentive and urgent. Part of Magnus wanted to run now, wanted to take Alec and Isabelle and Max, and run. Magnus had the power at his fingertips to hide them. They could be safe-for a while. But this isn't something you can really run from, he thought. Besides, Isabelle and Alec aren't going to abandon Jace and Clary.
But still, it seemed like too dark a prospect to consider. The shadowhunters could fight this war, and they would lose. They could go into hiding again while the world burned, but one day, the dark would find them. There was no weapon they could make that would hold back the dark, and no amount of anger and bitterness they could feel that would give them the strength to destroy Lilith.
The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house, Magnus thought again, and it was true. Their anger wasn't enough to conquer Lilith. We'll have to fight anger with forgiveness and hate with love to end this now. But where anyone will find love for Jonathan, I do not know.
Magnus looked back to Alec. "We have the hope we make for ourselves."
So, just an endnote, the line, Themaster's tools will never dismantle the master's house is from an essay by Audre Lorde. Also, the first lines of DonQuixote I got out of the book. Thanks for reading!