And so here is chapter three. I've gotta say that this chapter was really tough to write. But I'm really happy with the end result. I particularly like Jocelyn's dream. Tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: All characters and world belong to the almighty powerful Cassandra Clare.

Dreams of blackness, of the stars dying as the light of the world was smothered, filled Jocelyn's mind as she dreamt. Within these visions stood Jonathan, older then she knew him to be, and the cruel smirk on his face horrified her. She had left him alone, and he had turned into that.

"What's the matter, Mother?" he sneered the word. "Is your little boy upsetting you? Well sorry. I guess I'll always be a disappointment."

"No!" she begged. "Don't do this Jonathan. You're good. The Angel made you—"

"What Angel," he asked, "can interfere with demonic blood? They are opposites. Or maybe," he paused. "You just didn't love me enough to save me. You abandoned me. I was all alone when Valentine came because you weren't strong enough to fight off a few Shadowhunters." She noticed the rage in his eyes couldn't mask that they appeared to be watering with his words. "You let this happen to me!" roared Jonathan. "If you had tried harder than you could have been there to stop Valentine from taking me! But you weren't," he broke off, turning his head. "You weren't there."

"Jonathan," she whispered. "I tried. I tried to be there for you. But I couldn't. There were too many of them for me to fight off. They came to fast for me to fight. There was nothing I could have done."

"You actually believe that don't you," he demanded. "You really have convinced yourself that there was nothing you could have done. Well, let me tell you that there's always something you could have done. It's just people like you that tell themselves different that stops the world from being a better place."

She looked at her son. Eyes black and hair white, he looked like of her that had been in him was drained out and all that was left was Valentine. Only the vulnerability, the vengeful grief, looked like it came from her.

"I am so sorry," Jocelyn pleaded. "Please forgive me."

Jonathan looked at her. There was a confusion to his gaze that gave her hope that she might be getting through to him. Slowly, never taking his eyes from her, he said "Say it."

Jocelyn thought she understood. She had upset him. He needed to hear her.

"I'm sorry."

Jonathan looked at her, eyes hardening. The tears spilled from his eyes and his lips rose into a snarl. His head shot away to look at the ground and the vision faded to blackness.

Jocelyn let out a little gasp as her eyes shot open. Her cheeks were wet and her gasps erratic as she tried to take in her surroundings. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness she noticed that the ceiling for the room she was in had a motif of clouds and cherubs painted into it.

She had grown up believing that this was God's way of welcoming those dying in sickrooms into heaven. The idea was very possible, he father would say. Little things like the pattern on the ceiling that showed God was watching over his people.

As she grew up, Jocelyn lost that naïve sense of guidance and love. She began to realize that, if you wanted someone safe, you had to protect them on your own. No one else could be trusted to do it right.

"Hey," a light, chirpy voice said from next to her. Jocelyn let out a sharp gasp as her head snapped around to see a woman with well-tended to blond curls framing a heart-shaped face. Blue eyes looked kindly down on Jocelyn and she recognized the face.

"Jonathan," she said urgently, her voice cracking as she realized how dry it was.

The blond nodded. "Don't worry," she assured, handing Jocelyn a cup of water. "I talked to Lucian. He's bringing Jonathan here as we speak. It should only be a couple more hours."

"Thank you," Jocelyn replied, sipping her water. The cool liquid ran down her throat and revitalized her sore and chapped throat while cooling down her mouth. "How long was I out?"

Annamarie shrugged. "Hard to say," she speculated. "I found you a day and a half ago. But you were nearly catatonic when I did. You could have been unconscious for a lot longer before I found you."

"Anna," Jocelyn said, using her childhood nickname. "Thanks for finding me."

Naturally, Annamarie scoffed. "Of course I would find you," thinking otherwise was ridiculous. "We're best friends. Parabatai. Sisters. Nothing will ever change that."

"I know," Jocelyn confirmed. "So tell me, what's been happening since I left after the Uprising?"

Annamarie paused. What had been happening? Her worry over Jocelyn had left her blind to the world for several days. Ever since she found out that Jocelyn wasn't at the Accords Hall during the battle but knowing she was still alive made Annamarie a bit frantic. Still, she did remembers several events from after the battle.

"The Circle lost," she said, happy that Jocelyn hiccupped a laugh at the obvious answer. "Most were killed or captured. Those that got away will be tracked down eventually I'm sure. The Inquisitor was killed. The woman that tor—tortured you," she stuttered over the phrase. "Was Imogen Herondale. She was named Inquisitor upon the old guy's death."

"Wait," Jocelyn interrupted. "I was tortured by the Inquisitor? What the hell?"

"I know," Annamarie assured her friend. "I know. But don't worry. She and Malachi were apprehended and are awaiting trial as we speak."

"Malachi?" Jocelyn exclaimed, her voice cracking. "The Consul was the other guy torturing me? What is it with these Clave officials?"

Annamarie mulled over the question for a moment. "Insanity," she decided. "That and sadistic tendencies."

Jocelyn laughed at the answer to her rhetorical question. "Anything else?"

"The Circle," Annamarie confessed. "They've been captured but none of them are talking. They are so loyal to a dead man that they refuse to say anything. If this keeps up then they'll all be cursed." She paused for a moment, considering. "Not that they won't be anyway. For what they did I'm sure that there'll be some serious penalties. The only ones that might escape that kind of fate are the Lightwoods and Hodge Starkweather. They surrendered. They should receive clemency for that."

Jocelyn nodded, telling herself that she would visit the Lightwoods and Hodge to tell them to cooperate. Maybe they would listen to her, another member of the Circle. It was the least she could do for not telling them about the Uprising.

Luke's village was a rural place with farmers being the vast majority of people. The villagers only knew of one wealthy family in a ten mile radius—the Fairchilds. Jocelyn's family was wealthy, the only known direct descendants of Jonathan Shadowhunter, and their estate just happened to be located not far from the village.

Luke and Elodie drove swiftly down the dirt roads of Idris. They had been driving for several hours and, to the relief of the both of them, they had almost reached the village limits.

"Lucian," Elodie asked. "What if your parents aren't here?"

Luke shrugged. "Then we're screwed."

Thankfully, that wasn't the case. As they drove up to his house, Luke saw his mother and father in the sitting room window, talking and laughing with their back to him. As he pulled the car to a stop, he told Elodie that they had arrived.

With a knock on the door, Luke and Elodie, Jonathan in her arms, waited. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Thomas Graymark. His brown hair was scattered with quite a bit of grey hair and his cheerful smile widened as he saw Luke standing there.

"Luke!" he exclaimed, pulling his son into a one armed hug. "How are ya buddy?"

"Hey dad," he replied. "I'm good. This is Elodie Verlac and we need your help."

Thomas nodded immediately. "Of course. Come on in the both of you."

He led them into the sitting room where he said "Evelyn. Look who decided to drop by for a visit."

Luke's mother was a very pretty woman with blond hair and blue eyes. She was in her fifties and her bright smile widened to reveal deeply set laugh lines as she saw her son. "Luke!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her son. "Sweetie it's so good to see you."

"Hi mom," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "It's great to see you, too." He turned around to face Elodie. "Mom, Dad. This is Elodie Verlac. She runs that Paris Institute and, when Jocelyn was kidnapped she helped me—"

"Jocelyn was kidnapped?" Evelyn screeched. "Why didn't anyone tell us?"

"Well," Luke started. "It turns out Malachi and the new Inquisitor orchestrated it as revenge for her marrying Valentine. I just got a letter from Annamarie asking me to bring Jonathan to Alicante."

"Jonathan?" Thomas asked. "I take it that's this little fellow." He smiled, rubbing Jonathan's reddish hair.

"Yep," Luke confirmed. "This is Jocelyn's son. She's been anxious to see him so we were bringing him."

"Alright," Evelyn agreed. "What do you need?"

"The carriage," Luke replied. "We can't take the car to Alicante so we need a carria—"

"Say no more," Thomas replied. "But we insist that you stay for lunch."

"Thanks dad," Luke replied gratefully. "And lunch would be great. We've been on the road for hours."

"And," Elodie interrupted. "Someone forgot the cooler of food."

Luke mock sighed. They had been having this discussion for hours. "I said I was sorry. I wanted to get to the city."

"Oh I know," Elodie answered, innocence in her gaze. "Just be glad I had Jonathan's pack or he wouldn't have any baby formula."

Luke's parents watched the two banter, amusement on their faces. They glanced at one another before Evelyn went off to prepare their lunch. She even said that she would make extra for them to take on the road to make up for her son's terrible memory.

They sat around the table, a nice glazed ham in front of them that Evelyn said she had been saving for dinner but insisted that they have for lunch. Jonathan sat in a high chair that Evelyn had kept from Luke's sister's baby days and was gripping his bottle in both hands to drink.

"So," Evelyn asked. "When did you two meet?"

"Well," Elodie began. "I run the Paris Institute. When Lucian and Jocelyn came with baby Jonathan, asking for help, I let them in. I contacted the Clave as procedure went, and the next day Jocelyn was kidnapped. The two of us have been working to find her for the past two weeks. It was a relief to get that letter from Annamarie Highsmith saying that Jocelyn was in Alicante.

"I decided to go with Lucian because I wasn't sure if someone would try to attack them while on the road. Jocelyn had already been taken under my watch so I decided that it would be best if another Shadowhunter was with him if only to take care of Jonathan on the road."

"So who took her?" Thomas asked.

Luke's hands clenched on the table as he thought back to what he had heard. "Apparently, Consul Dieudonne and Inquisitor Herondale thought that the only way to punish Valentine would be to torture his family."

"Wait," Evelyn interrupted. "The Clave allowed that?"

Elodie shook her head. "No," she denied vehemently. "They were acting without the Clave's knowledge. I just thought that there might be some people that agreed with them around so it made sense to have an extra guard going into the city."

The remainder of their dinner consisted of small talk about how life on the farm was for Evelyn and Thomas while comparing it to the city life the Elodie led. Luke tried to remain attentive while his parents talked but he couldn't get the image of Jocelyn, bloodied and carried off, out of his head. Finally dinner ended and the two set off.

"Thanks again Mom," Luke said for the tenth time, pulling his mother into another hug. Her eyes had tears in them as she watched him set off back to the carriage.

"I know you have to go Sweetie," Evelyn confessed. "But it seems like I just got you back. First there was the Circle. Then lycanthropy. Now you're back and I don't want you to go."

"Mom," Luke sighed, pulling her into another hug. "I promise to keep in touch. I'll be back by the end of the month, I promise. And hopefully Jocelyn will be with me."

Evelyn nodded, separating from her son. Thomas wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close as they watched Luke head over to the carriage, helping Elodie up while she held Jonathan in her arm.

"He'll be alright," Thomas assured Evelyn, looking at his son with pride.

Evelyn nodded, letting the tears run free as she watched her son set off in the carriage. "I know he will."

Imogen sat against the cold wall of the Gard prison like a bag of flour thrown carelessly to the ground. The darkness masked the source of dripping water that rang in her ears and echoed off the icy walls of her cell.

She pushed a strand of her pale blonde hair out of her face as she stared at the door. It was unsurprising that she ended up in here after that tramp Annamarie found her questioning Morgenstern. The bitch always did have a way of driving all authority figures up walls. Imogen was no different, she supposed.

The iron door of her cell had a strange look to it. An ominous feel that the Clave clearly used to intimidate those that were held within its walls. Despite that, Imogen refused to feel fear. She was a Herondale, for the Angel's sake. One of the most influential families in the Clave. There were plenty of contacts for her to use to get herself out of the mess she had been tricked in to. No harm would be done to her.

The strange CLUMP! CLUMP! of footsteps on stone alerted Imogen of another presence. The footsteps grew steadily louder and she felt in her bones that something monumental was about to happen.

Not feeling the least bit worried, Imogen stared up at the door, looking to see who would be visiting her. Perhaps the new Consul? Or maybe guards coming to free her? Either scenario was fine with Imogen. She would be free soon enough and to pass the time she began tapping her fingers against the stone ground, the rhythmic beat echoing off the chamber walls in sync with the patter of water.

The latch of the door was opened and through it Imogen could see dark eyes like tunnels. They gazed at her with cruel delight and she knew that those eyes would never hold any sort of genuine kindness, preferring to show dry amusement to the world. The face was partially shrouded in darkness but Imogen needed no light to identify the man.

"You," she breathed, glare intensifying a hundredfold at the sight of the man that took her son from her and destroyed her family.

With a deep bass chuckle, the man replied. "Me. It is lovely to see you again, my dear Imogen. It really has been far too long."

"What do you want?" she demanded, looking at him with hate filled eyes.

One white blonde eyebrow rose at her question. "Want?" he asked. "Why, to tell you all about your lovely grandson Jonathan."

At his words, Imogen's blood ran cold. "My grandson died," she snarled. "Because of you! His father was killed and his mother took his life before he was even born! All of this happened because you destroyed my family. You took Stephen from me! It is YOUR FAULT!"

"Oh Imogen," Valentine said softly. "You understand so little. Now let me enlighten you."

"So," Jia said for the tenth time. "You were in Paris when you went to the bedroom to check on the Mortal Cup."

With a nod, Jocelyn replied "Yes. I needed to check up on it. How could I be sure that Valentine didn't have spies sneaking around my room?"

One hand held the Mortal Sword, this time taken of her own free will, and the other was tenderly held by Annamarie. The blonde sat in a chair next to Jocelyn's bed and kept shooting warning glances at the questioner whenever Jocelyn so much as flinched at a question.

Jia paced around the infirmary of Gard, staunchly ignoring the glares she was receiving from the blonde haired woman. "But why take the Cup to begin with?" she asked effortlessly. "If you were so worried about Valentine hurting your second child then why would you take something that you knew he would be targeting should he ever make another bid for power?"

Shrugging, Jocelyn shook her head. "I didn't see it that way," she confessed. "I saw it as stopping him from using the Cup to kill hundreds of children and thousands of Downworlders."

Annamarie sat by Jocelyn's side, squeezing her hands when the difficult parts of the story needed to be told. Her friend had been so good through everything and Jocelyn couldn't have been more grateful. Not once had Annamarie left her side and she had someone that would listen to her troubles despite them being silly and her dreams horrific.

"I don't mean to repeat this," Jia apologized. "But I need to get all the facts of the story. You found out about the Uprising. Okay. You plotted to stop him. In fear of Valentine's wrath you fled. The Angel Raziel came to you, and you know that that's going to be extremely difficult to get through the Clave, and gave you your son back from Valentine's clutches while curing a werewolf of the disease. You went to the Institute and were kidnapped by Shadowhunters on the former Inquisitor and Consul's orders and taken to Alicante where you were tortured. And through all of that you have no idea what happened to the Mortal Cup after you were taken?"

Jocelyn sighed and looked pleadingly at Jia. I know that this is difficult to believe, but it's the truth. I had only just managed to hide the Cup when my door was busted down. It could still be there or someone could have stolen it. I don't know."

Thankfully, her honestly could not be questioned at all. The Sword's power made her words, the truth, flow like honey down a spile. The Mortal Sword seemed much less antagonistic in her hands now that she was holding it willingly. Without the dark of dungeons to cast menacing shadows on the blade, Jocelyn could only describe it as magnificent.

"I just have one more question," Jia said, interrupting her thoughts. "What makes you so sure that Valentine's alive?"

That stopped Jocelyn's answer. What made her think it? How could she know? All she knew was that he did indeed survive the battle and the fire. He had to have.

"Because," she said, drawing out her answer. "Valentine won't die until the cause he's striving for dies. So long as people hate Downworlders, her or others like him will always exist."

And there it is. I really loved the whole Valentine confronting/taunting Imogen bit. Talk about, I think, in character. Can't you just see him going to a woman he hates and mocking her with her grandson. Plus, entering the Gard without getting caught, a total display of power. Tell me how awesome it was in a couple of reviews.