Chapter Three

A/N: Thank you to Alicia Mirza for reviewing the last chapter.

Despite the anguish the Mortal War had unleashed on the city of Alicante, it still managed to seem as serene and breathtaking as it was the first time Jocelyn came here, when she had started training at the Academy at the age of twelve. The crystal towers glowed a thousand shades of gold as the sun gave its final burst of light before retreating and Jocelyn knew that they would turn from vibrant fire to stunning ice when the moon rose to take its place. There was something magical about Alicante that she had always loved, and yet there was something dark lingering here that she had fled across the continents to escape.

'That darkness was my doing as much as Valentine's.' she told herself, and suddenly her mind went blank with shock. Since the War had ended, she had forbidden herself from thinking of her demonic son, Jonathan. Each time she did, all she could see was the vibrant green of his eyes staring back at her as he lay in her arms, and the glaze that covered them once he had breathed his last. Once again, guilt overwhelmed her. She had passed over the chance of attending the boy's funeral and now was beginning to regret not taking the time to let go of him properly, as fiend and firstborn both. Perhaps if she had done, she would feel less like a demon herself.

"Jocelyn?" asked Luke, cutting through his wife's thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Never one to admit to her weaknesses, the lie slipped easily from Jocelyn's lips, like the well-rehearsed lines of a play. All the world's a stage, she vaguely recalled a Mundane playwright saying, an insightful observation for someone who had a whole world hidden from their eyes. However, it was not so insightful for her to assume that Luke did not know her well enough to tell the difference between fact and falsehood. A simple look was enough to tell her he did not believe a word she was saying.

"It's not easy for any of us to come back here, after all that's happened." Luke began, taking one of her hands in his, but still looking out across the landscape of the glistening city. "But Idris is our natural home, Jocelyn. We were born here, we grew up here, we've spent over half our lives here. We can't just abandon years of good memories for the sake of a few weeks of bad ones. If we do, then we'll live in fear and regret for the rest of our lives, and nothing will ever change."

Despite the pain still left behind her eyes, Jocelyn found herself chuckling. "Spoken like a true politician."

"Well, I do need the practice." Luke commented in return, smirking in a way that reminded Jocelyn strongly of their daughter, Clary, whom he had probably taught the gesture to, for she had only begun to use it soon after he had arrived. "If I'm going to represent the interests of all werewolves, I might as well sound like a second-rate amateur poet while I do it."

Jocelyn laughed once more, clinging to the smile before it faded from her face, for she knew that such moments of happiness would be few and far between in the coming months. The Mortal War had left the Nephilim lying in a pile of rubble and almost every one knew someone who would not rise again. They were shakily pulling themselves to their feet, but one day they would stand strong once more, finally free from the threats that had plagued them for the past two decades.

The vibration of her mobile phone brought Jocelyn back into the moment, and she retrieved it from the pocket of her jeans to find a new message from Clary.

Coming home for dinner tonight after training. Be there about seven. See you then.
C x

It gave Jocelyn a little comfort to know that her daughter would be joining them in Alicante soon. Although she had learnt a great deal over the past few months about the damage she could do by trying to keep Clary close, she still liked to know what the girl was doing, to know that she was safe.

It had taken a great deal of persuading, by Luke and many others, for Jocelyn to agree to Clary training with Jace Herondale, but after having seen how much the boy truly cared for her daughter, she had acquiesced, as long as Clary came home every night and tried to stay out of trouble. Now, she found herself taking a shine to Jace, who was in fact as much like Valentine as Jonathan had been like her. 'And he makes her happy,' she told herself. 'That's what really matters.'

Clary arrived at half past six that evening, with Jace in tow as usual, but Jocelyn did not mind, for she was simply glad to see her daughter safe and well. After all the time during the War she had spent worrying about her, it was enough now to have her safe in her arms every evening, even if her boyfriend was required to be with her at all times as well. She has someone else to look out for her now, Luke had told her when she had voiced the issue. So do I, she had replied, planting a kiss on his cheek.

They discussed a great number of things around the dinner table, topics of conversation appearing endlessly, as if they had not seen each other for months. They talked mainly of the repairs to Alicante, although they were treated to a few anecdotes about Magnus and Alec's new kitten, Pharoah Cleocatra I, which left the group in stitches once they reached the part about the cat all but bathing herself in glitter, much to Alec's horror and his partner's delight.

However, their happiness was short-lived, as it always seemed to be, as a knock sounded loudly on the door. Luke went to answer it, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, but on his return, his face was so grim that they could well have been tears of despair.

"A message has appeared in the rubble of the Gard." he announced to the silent room. "A message in blood."

A/N: Who wrote the message, do you think, and who for? Please review!