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Chapter 3: The Errors of Our Fathers
When Stephen opened his eyes again, the sky was just begging to lighten. Somewhere, in the house, a baby was screaming. Stephen climbed from his bed, found some pants, pulled them on, and left the room. He went downstairs, searching for the baby, but ended up in the kitchen. He drank three glasses of water, to quench his thirst and clear his mind.
"By the Angel," Someone whispered. Stephen spun around. Jocelyn was sitting at the kitchen table, holding a mug of tea, dressed in pajamas. Her shirt strained against her stomach, which had grown since the night before.
"I didn't see you there," Stephen said. "I needed water…"
"Last month it was Michael who Valentine brought back here, covered in blood and near death," Jocelyn said. "Are you alright?" Stephen looked down to see his chest covered with purple, slowly healing bruises.
"I'm fine," Stephen said. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I couldn't sleep," Jocelyn said. She sipped her tea and looked down at the floor. "Once in a while I wake up to the sound of a baby screaming and crying. Try as I may, I can't seem to find it… to comfort it. You can hear it to." Jocelyn looked up into Stephen's eyes as the baby's cries took on a higher pitch.
"Hear what? I don't hear anything!" Stephen snapped.
"You hear something," Jocelyn said. "Come with me." She stood up and left the kitchen. Stephen followed her down the hallway and into a room filled with bookshelves and a desk. She closed the door behind them and lit a candle, then stepped so close to Stephen, he could smell the honeysuckle soap she used. Behind her, the candle flickered, casting imposing shadows on the walls. "There's something in the basement. Valentine won't let me go down there, but every night, I hear the baby crying. You hear it to."
"I don't," Stephen mumbled. There was no use denying it. "Who would put a baby in the basement?"
"I don't know," Jocelyn said. She ran her hands through her hair. "Valentine was normal when we married. Now… he's not right, Stephen! He's been doing things to me, to my baby." Stephen recalled Celine saying that Jocelyn was going a bit crazy.
"Why would your husband want to do things to your baby?" Stephen asked.
"I don't know," Jocelyn said. "Look at this. Would a normal baby be able to do this to its mother?" Jocelyn pulled her shirt up to show several dark bruises across her stomach. At the moment, the baby was kicking her repetitively, in the same spot, forming another bruise.
"Why would Valentine want to harm you?" Stephen asked.
"I don't know!" Jocelyn exclaimed. The ceiling above them creaked. Stephen looked up, straining his ears to hear, but heard nothing else. Jocelyn stepped closer and lowered her voice. "He's dosing me with something, I know it. He wants this baby to be powerful. He's trying to breed a race of superior Shadowhunters. Stephen…" Jocelyn placed her hands on Stephen's jaw, holding his head stationary. "You're a good boy, Stephen. Run. Tell someone. None of this can possibly be right." Jocelyn's green eyes filled with tears. "Please, Stephen. Stop him."
Stephen wanted to believe Jocelyn. After all, he had seen Valentine in full, crazy, action. Valentine harmed Stephen, and then put him in harm's way by tempting two vampires to feed on his blood. Killing the vampires for no reason was unjustified, but when they came to attack, Stephen had to defend himself. All Downworlders were volatile. Today, there were two less vampires the Shadowhunters had to worry about.
"Jocelyn, darling, I think you need to go back to sleep," Stephen said. "Valentine would never do anything to hurt you or the baby. Come along, now." He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door.
"You have to believe me!" Jocelyn cried. "He likes you, Stephen! He's been watching you since you were just a boy. He wants to build an army and he wants your help. You can stop this. No one should have to die for what only he believes is right."
"No one is going to die," Stephen said easily. "Come along, Jocelyn. You raving like this isn't good for the baby."
"He's gotten to you already!" Jocelyn exclaimed. "What can he give you that you don't already have? You don't need this life. Run, Stephen. Run away from this."
"Jocelyn?" A voice asked from the door. This certainly didn't look good, what with Stephen half dressed and Jocelyn in her nightgown in a dark room, never mind what they were discussing. Jocelyn gave Stephen a panicked look. He darted across the room and crawled beneath the desk as the door creaked open. "Jocelyn, honey, come back to bed. You raving like this isn't good for the baby." Stephen bit his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. He wondered how long Valentine stood outside the door, and how much he heard.
The door closed. Stephen waited a least an hour, then crept from beneath the desk and went back upstairs. As soon as he got back to his room, he heard the crying again, as if an infant was entombed in the very walls of the manor house. Stephen crawled into bed, covered his ears, and lay there until Celine finally called him to breakfast.
For all that occurred the night before, breakfast was a seemingly normal affair. When Stephen walked into the kitchen, Celine was cutting fresh strawberries as she cooked some crepes. Her blond hair was pulled back into a loose updo, with wispy stands framing her face. She was wearing a short green dress that skimmed the tops of her knees, and was barefoot.
Valentine was sitting at the table with Jocelyn. Whereas Celine seemed beautiful and put together, Jocelyn was falling apart at the seams. Her hair was tangled and her eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles beneath them. Jocelyn looked the way Stephen felt.
Valentine looked up at Stephen and gave him a smile.
"Stephen, honey, how did you sleep?" Celine asked. Stephen blushed and avoided Valentine's eyes. Everyone that happened last night played through his mind on an endless loop. Stephen committed murder last night. Then, Celine saw him naked, and moreover, she made him want her.
"Fine," Stephen said. He sat down at the table and winced as the bruises on his back throbbed. Valentine slid a cup over to Stephen.
"It's just a little something to restore your strength," Valentine said. Jocelyn looked up from the table, fixing her eyes on Stephen. Stephen lifted the cup and drank it all.
"Excuse me," Jocelyn said. She put a hand over her mouth, stood up, and hurried away.
"She's had such a difficult pregnancy," Valentine mumbled. "Tea?"
Breakfast proceeded from there. Celine served everyone crepes, bacon, sausage, and toast. They discussed the weather and Stephen's education at the Academy. Eventually, Jocelyn came back to finish her cup of tea, though she never joined the conversation. After the meal, Celine cleaned up, Jocelyn disappeared into another part of the house, and Valentine called Stephen outside to the patio, where they sat in chairs overlooking the lake.
"Another scorcher today. One of the last," Valentine remarked. "I've always been partial to fall, myself. How about you, Stephen? What's your favorite season?"
Stephen looked over at Valentine, remembering the insane look in Valentine's dark eyes last night. Last night, Valentine sliced Stephen's arm open and threw him to two hungry fledgling vampires. Today, he wanted to make small talk.
"I like spring," Stephen said. "There's so much new life. The weather isn't so bad either. Everything dies in the fall. All of the beauty and majesty of the season can't make up for that." Valentine turned to Stephen, regarding him carefully.
"You seem upset about something," Valentine said. "What's the matter, son?"
"I'm not your son." The words came out nastier than Stephen intended. He bit his lip in the same place he made it bleed before.
"I know you're not," Valentine said. He leaned closer to Stephen and laid a hand on Stephen's arm, tracing his fingers over the scar his dagger left behind. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
"Your sister showed up in my room last night. She said you sent her," Stephen said.
"You were covered in blood and nearly unconscious. I saw nothing wrong with having Celine put you back to rights. I thought you would be comfortable with her," Valentine said. "Were you… comfortable with her, Stephen?"
Stephen's face burned bright red. He wanted to be angry about what happened between Celine, but the only person he had to be angry with was himself. Celine only wanted him because he wanted her. Valentine glanced inside, then moved closer to Stephen.
"Did something happen between you and Celine?" Valentine asked. "Something…. intimate?"
"NO!" Stephen exclaimed. "No. Nothing happened. Nothing at all." Valentine nodded as his mouth curved into a slight smile.
"I remember being your age. I would fuck anyone, given the chance. Why, I went through half of the girls in my class at the Academy before spring break," Valentine said. "Celine is a beautiful girl. You're allowed to feel something for her. You're married, not dead."
"I'm married," Stephen said. He was learning that some men knew what that meant, and some men only thought they did. "Nothing happened." Valentine sighed.
"I know last night was hard on you," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You violated the Accords," Stephen whispered. Every fiber in his being was screaming for him to run from this place the way Jocelyn told him to. Everything felt wrong in the harsh light of day.
"No, you violated the Accords," Valentine said. "All initiations are difficult. I just wanted to know if you could kill, not because it was the right thing to do at the time, but because it was the right thing to do in the grand scheme of things. Something wanted you dead, Stephen, yet you are still very much alive. The world is a better place because of you." Valentine laid his fingers over the pulse at Stephen's wrist.
Stephen looked out over the lake. Dragonflies flitted at its banks as bull frog croaked. A beautiful swan floated out near the other side of the lake. A small flock of grey herons circled overhead, and then dropped into the water, one by one.
"You have such a lovely home," Stephen said. "It's perfect."
"I owe it all to Jocelyn," Valentine replied. "I'm nothing without her. She believes in me, Stephen." Stephen nodded slowly. Valentine resumed running his fingers up Stephen's arm. "You broke your own horse, right?"
Stephen glanced over to the paddock to see Nicias grazing placidly. He was present at her birth when he was 14 years old. He weaned her from her mother, then, a year later, trained her to carry a rider. It had been a long and arduous month of being thrown off before Nicias would allow Stephen onto her back.
"In the beginning, she didn't want to carry a rider, but you broke her," Valentine said. "It wasn't pleasant, but in the end, you trained her from a wild creature to something of use. Right?" Stephen nodded. "I know you were scared last night, Stephen. You fought for your life, but in the end, you understood why I had to do that. I had to break you. I had to make sure you could suit my purposes. Do you understand? I meant you no harm."
"You only wanted me to do what you asked," Stephen said.
"You were very brave, Stephen. It took Michael an hour to do what you did in less than three minutes. You're strong. You can do great things," Valentine said. From his pocket, he brought out a silver amulet exactly like the one Celine wore and placed it on the table between them. "Last night never happened. If you want to walk away now, you're free to do so. Just ask yourself, before you go: Do you want to watch things happen, or do you want to make great things happen?"
Stephen picked up the amulet and dropped it over his head.
Stephen left for home soon after. He spent the hour long journey sitting listlessly on Nicias's back, allowing her to trot when she wanted to, and canter when she felt like it. Finally, they neared the necropolis just outside of Alicante, where some Shadowhunter families buried their dead. Stephen couldn't figure out why he felt the need to stop, but he had dismounted, tied up Nicias, and was halfway through the cemetery before he knew what he was doing.
His destination was a large mausoleum in the far corner of the graveyard. The mausoleum was made of marble, with the name "Herondale" written over the door and adorned with swooping birds. There was a large apple tree to the left of the mausoleum which shaded the building. Stephen sat down on the front step and laid his head back against the cool marble.
The mausoleum had been built by Stephen's namesake, Will. Like Stephen, Will grew up in the London Institute after coming there at the age of 12 from Wales, where the Herondale family was from originally. Will married an unremarkable Lightwood girl, had a family, and settled into the easy life of running the London Institute. He came to Idris every fifteen years to sign the Accords.
One year, Will came for the Accords and commissioned the Herondale Manor and Mausoleum to be built, the manor house as a vacation property, and the mausoleum as a place to bury the family's dead. Will wanted to be buried in the Silent City, but as the story went, he came to sign the Accords when he was 78 and died in Idris. His youngest son, Calvin, who was known even now as the black sheep of the family, chose to lay his father to rest in Idris instead of the Silent City. Three years later, Calvin joined his father in the Herondale mausoleum, and so it went. Every Herondale who died in Idris was placed in the family mausoleum.
Valentine spoke the truth regarding the Herondales. All of the boys were born with a desire to strike out on their own. Will ran away from home as a boy. Two of his sons, Jacob and Isaac, left home and were never heard from again. Calvin married young and stupid the way Stephen had and produced a son, Jonathan, who went to America, only to return home, penniless and broken spirited. Jonathan had four daughters with his wife and one son with his mistress. That son was Marcus, Stephen's father. Marcus took over the Institute when he was 22 and ran it until just last year. He was, possibly, the only upstanding Herondale left. Marcus didn't make waves. He stayed in London, did his job, and lived a monotonous life.
Stephen could have had that life. He could have taken a wife, had a family, and got a job doing something to serve the Clave. He had a solid education and most anyone would hire him to do most anything. He could have stayed home with his parents and given his children all of the same opportunities he had growing up, but that wasn't living, that was going through the motions of life. Now, Stephen was sitting on the front steps of his family's mausoleum, the blood of two vampires on his hands. Was this living?
Midway through his six month session at the Academy, Stephen came to the manor house and told his father about the Circle. Marcus was opposed to it. Valentine said that they laws needed to be changed, while Marcus felt that the laws were in place for a reason and should remain unchanged. Stephen agreed with Valentine and felt that laws were meant to adapt to the times in which they were enforced. Marcus maintained Sed lex dura lex: "the law is hard, but it is the law."Stephen and Marcus fought long and hard over their beliefs. That had been six months ago. Now, they barely spoke.
Stephen's stomach grumbled and he lay a hand on it. All through the performance of breakfast, he barely ate. Now, his mind was fuzzy and his stomach felt sour, the way it did after he woke up in school after a night of drinking contraband liquor. The marble was cool against his aching head. Stephen could have just opened the door to the mausoleum and crawled inside to take a nap with his ancestors, if not for the complicated locking rune etched into the door. Stephen wanted to ride Nicias back to the Herondale manor, where, after a very long, hot shower, he would crawl into a huge bed and let his mother mollycoddle him in the way his father couldn't stand. Perhaps, after a long sleep, Stephen would wake up 16 again, back in a time when the pressures of being an adult were a far flung dream.
A mosquito buzzed at Stephen's ear, causing him to jump and thrash. When his eyes were accustomed to the brightness of midday, he saw that some time had passed. Stephen stood up, left the cemetery, and mounted Nicias for the short ride into town.
Stephen boarded Nicias at a small stable down the street from Stephen's house. Once Stephen got to the stable, he fed and gave water to the horse. Then, Stephen discovered brambles in her tail, so he groomed her, ears to feet, and sprayed her off so that her black hair gleamed. Then, he turned her out in a paddock with several other horses and watched as she went to roll in a puddle of dried mud. Stephen shook his head and turned around, nearly slamming into Luke.
"Where have you been?" Luke asked. "Amatis is worried sick."
"I was at Valentine's," Stephen mumbled. "She knew where I was, when I would be back… you're the one who's worried sick."
"I'm not worried sick," Luke said.
"You came looking for me, didn't you?" Stephen asked. Luke shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the ground. "Luke, I had no idea... I'm flattered." Luke glanced up, quickly. "I didn't know you felt so strongly for me. You've touched me, Lucian."
"I don't…" Luke began.
"Don't deny it, darling. I can see it all over your face," Stephen said. Luke's jaw dropped. Stephen smiled and pushed past him, heading back into the barn to clean up his supplies.
"So did you make it, or not?" Luke asked. He caught up with Stephen.
"Of course I made it," Stephen said. "Did you ever doubt me?" Luke shrugged.
"So you did the scavenger hunt?" he asked.
Stephen stopped walking. He took a deep breath and turned around slowly. "What do you mean, scavenger hunt?"
"For the Circle Initiation? Valentine had me go looking for something. It was a bit of a challenge. I was out all night, alone… but it wasn't difficult. More about the journey than the destination, I guess," Luke said. He shrugged. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Stephen said. "What did Michael have to do?"
"Michael? Valentine told him to climb to the top of a tree just to see if he would do it. Weird, I know," Luke said. "What did he make you do?"
Stephen remembered last night, when Jocelyn was talking to him and saying the craziest things but making perfect sense. Stephen could tell Luke what happened, but Luke would never believe him, and besides, he swore not to tell.
"There was a thing at the bottom of the lake. I had to retrieve it," Stephen said. "I need to get home. Amatis is probably wondering where I am. I'll see you around."
"Right. I'll see you around," Luke said. Stephen turned around, heading for the exit. "Oh, Stephen?" Stephen spun around quickly. "Welcome to the Circle." Stephen nodded, gave Luke a smile, and hurried for home.
When Stephen unlocked the front door of the canal house and opened the door, he found Amatis napping on the couch. She was dressed in one of his white button up shirts, and nothing else. There was a book lying on the floor which must have fallen from her fingers. The book was made of green leather adorned with gold leaf. It was The Green Book, a powerful spell book written by warlocks several hundred years before. Only three copies existed in the world. Stephen shouldn't have even owned a copy, but somehow, it remained in the Herondale family. Valentine would have killed for the book.
Stephen picked the book up off the floor and locked it into a cedar chest, praying Amatis would never ask where the book went.
"Where the hell have you been?" Amatis asked. Stephen turned to see her sitting up on the couch. "It's nearly… late afternoon." Stephen felt at a complete loss for words. So many things happened since he left the house the day before. There were so many things he couldn't talk about.
"I made it," Stephen said. He crossed the living room, knelt before her, and pulled the amulet out from beneath his shirt. "I'm in."
"You're in!" Amatis exclaimed. "I knew you would make it! I'm so proud of you!" She placed her hands on his cheeks as she kissed him. Stephen laid his hands on her thighs and kissed back, moving his tongue against hers.
"I missed you last night. I love you so much," Stephen mumbled. He moved his hands up higher slipped them beneath the hem of her shirt, no, his shirt she was filling out quite nicely. He found the waist band of her panties and tugged on it, then, thought better of it. Stephen stood up, and then moved his hands beneath Amatis's thighs. He lifted her from the couch.
"Stephen! What are you… I just want to talk…"
Stephen kissed her again, then carried her up the narrow stairway to their bedroom. He lay her down on their bed and kissed her once more.
"Stay here. Don't move. I'll be right back," Stephen said. He hurried into the bathroom, stripped naked and took the fastest shower of his life.
Amatis was still on the bed when Stephen walked back in. He tossed his towel on the floor, and leapt onto the bed. He started unbuttoning her shirt, then gave up and pulled it over her head. Stephen kissed her neck, licked across her collar bones, down to her collarbones and breasts. He gave equal attention to them before kissing down the center of her stomach.
Amatis's body seemed to have blossomed since the last time he saw her this way. Suddenly, her hips seemed wider and her breasts were bigger. There were curves where there were none before.
"Why do you want me so badly?" Amatis asked as Stephen ran his fingers down the inside of her right thigh, causing her to open her legs for him.
"Can't I just want you?" Stephen asked. He kissed her lips again as he lightly caressed her breasts. Amatis's eyes flickered closed as she blushed. Stephen licked the tight skin between her hips, and moved his head lower, prepared to kiss her in the place she loved to be kissed.
"Stephen, no," Amatis said. "Come up here."
"I want," Stephen mumbled. "I want you, Amatis." He was feeling desperate now, but was unsure of what he was so desperate for. He wanted to push himself inside of Amatis and to feel her body move with his. Nothing awful could happen when they were making love. Stephen wouldn't have to think about the sins of the night before. Amatis could help him to forget.
"I know you want," Amatis said. Stephen sucked hard on her neck as he ran his hands across her breasts. His body felt painfully ablaze, as if one wrong touch from Amatis would send him over the edge. "Stephen, what is this?"
Stephen snapped open his eyes to see Amatis holding his left hand. The healing runes did their work, and even Celine did her best, but there was still a long, thin scar running down his forearm, wrist to elbow.
"It's nothing," Stephen said.
"Nothing?" Amatis asked. "Your wrist was slit open and it's nothing? What the hell happened last night, Stephen?"
"I'm in the Circle," Stephen said. He kissed her lips. "I did what I had to do. I'm in."
"Who did this to you? What did you have to do to get into the Circle? What happened, Stephen? If someone harmed you…"
"I can't talk about it," Stephen said. "I swore by the Angel. Last night never happened." Last night was last night. It was necessary to forget all of last night, otherwise, Stephen was unsure if he could live with himself. "I can't tell you, Amatis. I wish I could…" He was lying.
"You never kept secrets from me before," Amatis said, "Why are you now?"
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"I need to talk to you," Stephen said. He pulled Magnus into another room and closed the door. "What are you doing in Idris?"