Chapter Three

Jocelyn

Bright morning light struck Jocelyn's face, but she rolled over, unwilling to greet the day. She drew the blankets up to cover her face and groaned when she remembered where the blankets came from. Jocelyn peeked over the frilly edge, surveying the room around her, scared of seeing Valentine there.

He's not there, check behind you, careful…don't let him know you're awake! Jocelyn stretched out her hand, feeling behind her, but there was nothing. He's gone, she thought with relief.

It had only been a day since she and Valentine has reconciled, but it had seemed a waking nightmare. When she had woken from the first night in his bed, the early morning light glancing off his pale blond hair and she felt a deep sense of confusion. Part of her, distantly, had begun to dream of another man, a man with dark, curling hair, sometimes unkempt scruff, and a pair of bright eyes behind thoughtful glasses. She had wondered what it might be like to begin again with that man who loved her for all her light and all her dark.

Luke…It had been too painful and Jocelyn had cringed away from it.

Stretching, she sat up and glanced around and tossed the blankets aside. The room she and Valentine shared was spacious and richly furnished, with its own hand molded hearth surrounded by a small collection of chairs and a couch, walls covered in bookshelves, many thick rugs, and a private bath. Jocelyn swung her legs around and her toes grazed the wooden floor. Jocelyn felt oddly empty, staring around the vast apartments and seeing no one and nothing that brought her joy.

Where's he put Clary? she wondered, and it brought such a sharp jolt of pain and of fear that Jocelyn was almost doubled over. I just want my daughter, I just want Clary.

"Clary," she whispered softly, and her voice echoed around the room.

She rose and dug around the room for clothes. Valentine had explained that he wanted their lives to pick up where they left off, and he had financed that life for the last ten years. Jocelyn, who was fond of jeans and tee shirts, suddenly found closets full of designer dresses, pants, and blouses. She was uncomfortable in them all, and had taken to wandering around their house in her bed clothes.

She passed out of the room and into the hall, considering the many rooms before her. She wondered what Valentine had planned for all those other bedrooms. Surely Jonathan only needed one room? And if he brought Clary in, there were still at least two spare bedrooms. She shook her head tiredly and crept down the stairs and into the living room, also empty, but ready for guests with a sitting area, a bay window, many book cases, a chess table, and an old-fashioned radio. Jocelyn frowned and went to the kitchen.

Like most homes in Idris, the antique feel didn't extend to the kitchen. It took Jocelyn maybe five minutes to have eggs in a frying pan. As she cooked, she thought back to all the times she had made breakfast for Clary, and she had that fleeting vision of her and Clary in this kitchen, cooking together, but she pushed that thought away. If Clary were here, Valentine would be training her, and that alone would be a nightmare. Still, Jocelyn longed to be a normal mother again.

"You're up late," said a voice behind her.

Jocelyn spun around, her breath hitching in her throat. "Valentine, I didn't hear you coming in."

Valentine smiled at Jocelyn, that charming, handsome smile that had won her so many years ago. He joined her beside the stove but didn't touch her. "I didn't want to disturb you, Jocelyn; you looked so peaceful. What were you thinking of?"

"Cooking with Clary," she said without thinking.

"Is that what you want?" Valentine asked, truly curious.

Jocelyn shrugged. "I'd like to have my children with me, and I'd like the chance to be the mother I never really got to be. I was always so busy, and Clary was never at home, and Jonathan-" She cut off. "I'm just daydreaming."

"Nothing wrong with that," said Valentine, and he finally reached out a hand and caressed Jocelyn's cheek. "I've been working, trying to make a few arrangements, and I'm pleased to say I think I've worked a few problems out."

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. "Problems?"

"I told you I would give you back your son," vowed Valentine, and he saw Jocelyn's eyes widen. "I would think that by dinner tonight, you might have a son."

"Valentine, you don't need to-"

"Yes, I do," said Valentine firmly, and then he brought Jocelyn's lips to his and kissed her chastely. Though her outward appearance was neutral, beneath her skin, Jocelyn was screaming. "I will be gone for most of the day, so do not look for me, but I'll be back in time for dinner. I'm sorry to leave you alone again, Jocelyn, but I must work fast if I want to organize the Clave correctly."

"Will Jonathan be home?" asked Jocelyn carefully.

"I don't think so," Valentine said. "He'll be with me most of the time."

Jocelyn tried to smile for him, and Valentine ran a hand through her hair. "Then I suppose I'll see you for dinner."

"I look forward to it," Valentine said gently, and kissed her cheek before turning and leaving.

Jocelyn listened for the sound of Valentine calling out for Jonathan, and then the click of the door closing. The moment they were gone, Jocelyn sank to the floor shaking. The cool tile felt good against her skin, but it didn't stop horrible thoughts and feelings racing through her mind.

By dinner tonight you might have a son…Jocelyn wondered what Valentine had meant by that. It's not possible, it's just not possible; Jonathan is gone, long gone. But the thought of having Jonathan back, of having the son she had thought dead, woke in her confusing emotions. She wanted her baby back, but she had learned to hate the man he had become.

Nothing makes sense anymore, this whole world doesn't make sense anymore.

Alec

It was the longest night of Alec's life, sitting in that cell beside Jace, feeling like his world was falling apart around him. It had taken hours for Jace to finally face the Lightwoods, but when he did, his eyes were glazed and his face blank. He said and saw nothing, and when Alec tried to talk to him, tried to wake him from his sleep, he saw nothing. It hurt Alec physically to be separated from his parabatai, and even though he still had that overwhelming sense of being connected to Jace, he wondered vaguely what if would be like to be truly and finally separated.

"Jace," he said softly, but Jace didn't respond. "Jace, please, talk to me; we don't have time for you to be like this."

This seemed to urge Jace on and he looked up at Alec; there was a stirring in his eyes, like something fighting for life. "Time?"

"Valentine is splitting our family up in the morning," said Alec, his eyes darting to his parents. They had fallen asleep perhaps an hour before, not long after Maryse had given up trying to coax Jace out of his silence. It had been a miserable sight, Alec thought, watching Maryse drop to her knees and plead with Jace to just speak, to listen to her, to believe that they would make it better. "By this time tomorrow you'll be off with Valentine and Isabelle and I will be in a foster home."

Jace shook his head slowly. "And so?"

"So," said Alec, trying to keep the frustration from his voice, "I think you and I need to talk a little about what's going to happen soon."

"There's nothing to talk about," Jace murmured, eyeing a sleeping Isabelle at his side.

"Yes, there is, because I'm not going to just be pulled off to another life and leave you with Valentine and Jonathan."

The mention of Jonathan brought Jace around; Alec saw a muscle working in Jace's jaw. "It seems we have very little choice, doesn't it?"

"Jace, please…" Alec began, but Jace was looking oddly amused.

"There's nothing for it, Alec; I'm going to be bound to Jonathan." Jace turned his face away, but Alec could feel the tension as a physical thing. He reached out a hand and placed it on Jace's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry for what I did," Alec finally said. "I meant to die, I really did; if you had just let me go…I shouldn't have let him scare me."

Jace sighed. "It's not you, Alec, it's me. I didn't want you to die, and maybe I should have let you. It's what you wanted; it wasn't my right to take it away from you."

"It didn't want to die," Alec admitted after a moment of silence. "I knew it was the only way to protect you, but I didn't want to. I guess I'm glad you stopped him, but now, after everything, I wish I could have been brave enough."

"There nothing wrong with not wanting to die," Jace said, and turned to face Alec; he looked resigned. "I don't hold anything against you, you should know that."

Alec was quiet a long time, thinking over what was to come, what he was about to lose. Jace was looking down at his hands, but he seemed more open to conversation; Alec could feel Jace's presence, at least. "What do you think it's going to be like, after Valentine…?"

"I don't know," Jace whispered. "Some books say it hurts, it can drive people crazy, but I don't think it will kill us."

"You've been my parabatai for seven years," Alec said, "I can't imagine what it'll be like to not have you there. I don't know if you understand-"

"I do," Jace said stiffly. "I don't want to be Jonathan's-Jonathan's-" Jace cut off, and clenched his fists. "I hate him. I hate everything about that man. He killed my brother, he ruined my family, and he's forcing me to tie myself to a monster."

Naturally, Alec shifted so he was leaning up against Jace; Jace allowed the contact, and, after a minute, relaxed against him. "Just because we're not parabatai anymore doesn't mean we're not family, and it doesn't make Jonathan your brother. Isabelle and I will find you, and, well, at least you'll be able to find Clary."

The thought of Clary worked a change on Jace, Alec thought. Jace drew a very deep breath and closed his eyes. It had been so long since he'd been able to relax, and Alec felt warmth spread out through him. The two remained that way, side by side, until the sun finally peeked over the horizon and lit the Lightwoods' cell. With the light came the realization that it was over; Valentine had won and they were going to face their doom. Isabelle woke first, she saw Alec and Jace together, and then took Jace's hand in hers. When Robert and Maryse rose, they saw their children seated together and tried to find the strength to promise them it would be okay.

Minutes ticked by and they could hear the sound of cells being opened and closed, coming closer to them. Alec tried to focus on his heart beat, thumping along in time with Jace's. There was a horrible clanking before their door, the sound of the lock being turned, and they all looked up. The door swung to and a small group of figures was crowded there, readying to escort the Lightwoods.

It wasn't like Aline, it wasn't a desperate, last-ditch attempt to free themselves, it wasn't even real. They were taken from their cell and they were each made to cross their wrists and be marked with binding runes, like the Inquisitor had Jace. From there, they were escorted in a line from their dank cell, down a long, stone hall, and up a flight of stairs into the Gard.

The Gard was frighteningly empty, and Alec was reminded of a cave. It was dark with only the witch-light stones to hold back the black, and they did a poor job of that. As they walked, Alec kept looking back at Jace, wondering if his heart was thumping as madly as his. These were the last minutes they would be bound together, the last memories they would share as one. Once, Jace's eyes lifted up to his, and there was such pain in them that Alec couldn't bear it.

This is how it ends? Alec wondered. This is where Jace and I part ways? After so many years together, after so many memories, after all the oaths and promises, this is how we end? Somewhere, Alec knew he had always pictured him and Jace being separated by death-probably his since Jace was far too skilled-not some horrible ceremony like this. I never thought it would end like this.

Before Alec could consider this anymore, they were being brought before a pair of large double doors. Alec, who had visited the Gard once, knew that behind these doors was the chamber where the Clave would convene. He had a fleeting image of all the shadowhunters being there, as if waiting for the Lightwoods. Had Valentine filled it with his followers? Or all the demons he had summoned to him?

The doors were opened and they were pushed through, but the room was empty. Completely bare of everything but Valentine and Jonathan, waiting at the end of the hall with the Cup. Upon seeing Jonathan, Alec's heart lurched and he felt that urge to attack the smirking boy. Their handlers pushed them into the room, and behind them, the door shut with a deep grunt. As they approached the two men, Alec felt that unnatural terror that he was about to lose a part of himself.

"Lightwoods, Jace," said Valentine, and even the sound of Jace's name on Valentine's lips angered Alec, "I'm pleased to see you here. I'm glad you didn't make a scene; you were always so stoic, so collected."

"Do not make this into a production," grunted Robert. "You've brought us here to take our children."

"I do not have to take them," Valentine said politely. "If you would but swear to serve me, take the runes, and join my Clave, you may keep your children. I will give you a home, a position, and power; just give me your word."

Alec's eyes moved to his parents, and he wondered if they would recant, if they would give into Valentine to protect their children, but Robert lifted his chin. "No, we will not serve you."

"Then I'm not doing anything against your will," answered Valentine simply. "Come forward and drink from the Cup."

Maryse and Robert pulled themselves free of their handlers and stepped up fearlessly. They would go to their end as they had gone through their lives: brave and willful. When they rose up to meet him, Jonathan's eyes shot from Isabelle, to Jace, to Alec, and he was grinning openly. Maryse moved up to Valentine and he gestured to the ground; she sank onto her knees, but her eyes were steely.

"Drink, Maryse," he ordered, and placed the cup to her lips. She didn't shy away from it, and Alec was proud.

Maryse fell back onto the ground on her back, and she made gasping sound, as if they air were being sucked out of her, and then her body slumped. While she lay there, drawing heavy breaths, Valentine ordered Robert forward, and he, too drank from the Cup. The Lightwood children watched their parents wither on the ground, and none of them could quite suppress the fear that they too would be reduced to helpless victims. After almost a minute of watching them, Valentine looked up to the men behind them and pointed to Maryse and Robert.

"Please take them back to their cell, and have their runes removed." Valentine looked on coldly as the Lightwoods were lifted like rag dolls and taken from his sight. His eye suddenly moved up to the children. "Would any of you three like to step forward first?"

Alec felt it was his duty, but Jace had already taken the step forward. "I won't have you hurt my brother and sister."

"I'm not hurting them, Jace, I'm helping them." He smiled at Jace all the same, and beckoned him forward. "Come, Jace, drink from the cup and receive my marks." When Jace hesitated Valentine laughed. "I'm not going to surprise you and tear you apart from Alec."

Jace released a pent up breath and stepped up to meet Valentine, but Valentine placed his palms on Jace's shoulders and pushed him down until he was kneeling before him. Isabelle and Alec drew together and watched, wondering how well Jace was going to take the drink. Valentine reached down and lifted Jace's chin up; Alec thought the way Valentine held Jace's chin was like a father: lovingly. He tipped the Cup up and Jace drank from it.

Jace held himself much better than either Robert or Maryse. He did jerk back, and his hands tensed, as if he were chocking on something, but then the runes binding his hands flared up and he threw them down. Jace coughed, gagged, and tried to roll away, but Valentine reached down suddenly and grasped Jace by the shoulder as if to stop his fall. Jace was forced to lurch forward and cough and gasp, his head resting against Valentine's knees and Valentine rubbing his back. Alec saw Jonathan's face turn very ugly at the sight of his father comforting his arch rival, but then it was wiped away. When Jace pulled back, his face was a shade paler, but he seemed alright. Before he really had time recover, Valentine withdrew a stele and whispered words over it. It glowed bright white, blindingly white, and then he tore Jace's shirt up the middle and bent him over so he could mark him on his lower back, right-hand side. The moment he'd marked Jace, he jerked him to a standing position.

"Welcome back, Jace," he said kindly, and though Jace had taken a step back, Valentine tossed him aside, right into Jonathan's arms. "Ms. Isabelle, if you would be so kind?"

Isabelle looked mutinous, and Alec wanted to step before her, just to protect her from Valentine's gaze. But, Isabelle tossed her hair back and went to meet him. Like Jace, she was forced to drink from the Cup, and she gagged and sputtered and gasped, but unlike Jace, Valentine offered her no help. She ended up, lying at his feet, gasping for her breath. The moment she regained a sense of self, Valentine pulled her up just enough so he didn't have to kneel. Like Jace, he tore her shirt, and though Isabelle slapped her hand at him, as if trying to shoo a fly away, he ignored her and marked her. She pushed herself back from him, eyes burning, and gathered up the remains of her shirt. Jace was looking at Isabelle with a mixture of sympathy and fear; if Isabelle's tempter got the better of her, who knew what Valentine might do.

Finally, Valentine turned his eyes on Alec. "Alexander, would you please join me?"

Before Alec went to drink from the Cup, he peeled his shirt off and handed it to Isabelle who hurried into it, blushing a bit. His mouth was dry, his mind blank as he went before Valentine and dropped to his knees without order. His eyes once met Jace's, but then he lifted his icy blue stare to Valentine who raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"You are certainly a Lightwood, Alexander," Valentine said conversationally as he refilled the Cup. "Such composure is to be commemorated." Alec only tilted his head in response, and then lifted his chin and drank.

It burned. There was no other way to describe the drink as it passed down his throat and into his stomach. He covered his mouth to stop himself from coughing up the drink, and he did everything in his power to not make a fool of himself in front of Valentine. It hurt, it hurt a lot more than he thought it could, but still he kept himself on his knees and his back up right.

"What's this?" asked Valentine, chuckling over at Jace. "Jonathan told me your parabatai was a coward, and yet here he is, demonstrating that Lightwood backbone."

Jace ground his teeth together. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," he answered, and then marked Alec just like Isabelle and Jace.

There was a long pause while Jace tried to twist himself free of Jonathan to comfort Alec, and Alec was catching his breath. Once the mark's light had faded and Alec was able to breathe, Valentine motioned for Jonathan to bring Jace forward and he pulled Alec up to his feet.

This is it, Alec thought. This is how it's going to end. Whatever you feel, whatever it does, remember who you are.

"Don't do this, please," Jace whispered just loud enough for the four of them to hear. "Please, Valentine."

"I'm sorry, Jace, because I know how close you two are, but I can't allow this partnership to continue," Valentine said, and he sounded like he meant it. "Jonathan, hold Jace still, I suspect this might hurt them both a little."

You're Alec Lightwood…

Valentine ran his hand over Alec's arm and his fingers grazed the rune that he and Jace shared. His eyes landed on it, and then moved up to Alec's eyes, and then over to Jace's left arm where the other half of the rune was. He lifted the stele he had used to mark them permanently, and the entire blade glowed. He angled it against Alec's arm, just above the rune.

You're Alec Lightwood and your parabatai is Jace Lightwood.

"This is going to hurt," Valentine warned, but Alec realized he was speaking to Jace, not him.

Jace Lightwood was your first friend, your most trusted companion, and your brother.

Valentine brought the blade down, and it was like he was peeling an apple. The edge of the knife seemed to slice between skin and rune, and it took a second for Alec to feel it. The moment he looked down and saw his arm bare of the rune, a shot of pain laced from his arm and down his spine. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees and then doubled over; he couldn't breathe, he couldn't make a sound, he couldn't even see.

…Jace is your parabatai…It felt as if a wall had come down around him, and there was no way to breech it. He was alone, desperately alone and cold. He is…he's your other half, he's always there. You can feel him. But Alec couldn't feel him anymore, he couldn't sense Jace as that constant reminder in the back of his mind. You know him.

Alec lifted his gaze to Jace, and he saw that Jace was sagging in Jonathan's arms, his face was covered in sweat, and he looked ready to vomit. Their eyes met in that instant, and Alec realized he didn't know the boy who was looking back him. He knew it was Jace, and he knew Jace was his step-brother, and he knew they had been friends since they were small children, but he couldn't feel Jace anymore.

I'm alone, Alec thought, and then he gave into the darkness and knew nothing more.

Clary

"I have good news, my dear."

It was Valentine, and he was seated beside Clary's mattress, staring down on her dispassionately. Seeing his face swimming into sight before her urged Clary into life: she strained against the bonding that held her wrists and ankles and tried to spit at her father. This was the man who had torn her world apart at the seams, this was the man who had taken her friends, her mother, the boy she loved, and dangled them in her face. She stared up into his cold, grey eyes and wanted nothing more than to scratch them out.

"You still seem to have a bit of fire in you," Valentine observed. "The result of Jocelyn raising you as a Mundane, no doubt. I assure you, Clarissa, that I will change that; I won't have a daughter who flouts my authority." Clary tried to speak, but her throat was as dry as paper. "Some water, sweet heart?" he asked sardonically.

Valentine held up a glass of water, a pink straw poking out of the top. He held it to her lips and though Clary wanted to turn her face away, she was parched. Deciding it was better to accept what little favors her father gave her was better than angering him. She sucked on the straw and the feeling of water rushing over his throat was like heaven.

Whatever he says, don't listen, she thought firmly. He's just going to taunt you, tease you, torture you.

"Now, I said I have good news, Clarissa," Valentine said kindly, still giving her water. "Your mother has forgiven me, and, this means I can bring you back into the family."

Clary coughed on the water. No! That's not possible, she wouldn't have, she couldn't have; my mother wouldn't forgive him after everything he did to her. He's lying, he lying!

"Yes, I have given her what she wanted: her son back." He smiled victoriously down at her. "You are no longer the center of her universe, which, I think, is very good for you. She's quite ready to love a family, not a daughter."

Clary shook her head, knocking the water from Valentine's hand. The glass shattered and the water spread out over the floor. "…Liar…" Clary rasped.

"Do you think so, Clarissa?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "It doesn't matter; I'll come for you in a few days, after you've had time for this…temper tantrum. When you rejoin the family you'll see how right I am." He saw reached down and dabbed his fingers in the pool of water, and then rubbed her face, scrubbing some of the dirt off. Clary flinched away from his touch, but she couldn't move. "Gosh you are a mess, aren't you? I'm actually quite horrified to have you walking around the house; we'll have to do a bit of work before your ready to see your mother."

Clary snapped her face around and turned her burning eyes on him; she hoped he could see just how much she hated him. Valentine, however, only laughed. "That's not going to last, Clarissa, that attitude. Your mother loves me, and she'll allow me to do with you what I like; you would do well to remember that, too. Think of your life outside this room, like it is in it. The only one who can feed you, water you, clothe you, heal you, or even give you the freedom to move, is me. You belong to me, now, Clarissa."