Chapter Thirty-One

Simon

There were voices in the living room of Magnus's apartment, soft voices, not the usual growls or shouts or generally outspoken voices that belonged the Luke's pack, and it was enough rouse Simon's interest. He shifted his weight carefully, doing his best not to wake Isabelle, who was dozing on his left arm; he doubted whether she would appreciate being woken so early in the morning, especially after the night they'd had. His eyes moved irrevocably up her face, to the small, red line that curved along her cheek, the only testament to the scuffle they'd been involved in earlier that night.

Simon, Isabelle, and Alec, after pleading and begging Magnus and Luke, had been allowed out of the apartment to go get dinner. Isabelle had explained, rather politely, Simon thought, that Magnus's form of cooking, which was to magically steal someone else's cooking, was getting a bit boring, and they needed a break from it. Though Magnus had agreed with the stipulation they bring him back something, Luke had taken more persuasion.

They'd gone happily, hoping to find a deli for fresh sandwiches, and spent a nice hour strolling along the streets of New York City again. Simon had loved it; he had thought, more than he cared to admit, while locked in the cell in Alicante, that he would never see his mother again, that he'd never see the city again, but there it was. After finding the deli and getting a fair share of ham, turkey, cheeses, and fresh vegetables, they turned for home.

As they were rounding the corner of Magnus's street, Simon spotted a lone figure, and though he couldn't place why, he seemed out of place. He nudged Isabelle, who paused and eyed the man from her distance. She reached carefully for the only weapon she now had, a knife barrowed from Magnus's kitchen, and then pricked her brother's sleeve with the hope he'd see too. As they came nearer the man, it hit Simon what had been so out of place about the man: his scent. He smelled, as Simon had once told Clary, like sunshine.

Shadowhunter, Simon thought, but it hardly mattered. The man had already lunged for them.

Usually, Simon wouldn't have thought twice about this fight. He would have watched Isabelle and Alec thoroughly beat the man, but he hadn't counted on the fact that they were mostly unarmed, Isabelle was out of practice, and Alec was still recovering from his split from Jace. As it was, things escalated rather quickly.

The shadowhunter was well trained, quick with his many knives, and stronger than Isabelle or Alec. When he rammed his shoulder in Alec's chest, the boy fell back, and Isabelle was left unprotected. The man moved for her next, and she sliced the knife through the air before him; it didn't seem to faze the man either, because he dodged her reach and made to grab her by her long hair. It was at that moment that Simon decided he had better act. Forgetting everything he'd ever told himself about being an innocent bystander, about being non-violent, about being a good vampire, he launched himself at the man with unparalleled speed and sent him stumbling into the wall of the building, but not before landing a glancing blow off Isabelle's cheek with his knife.

"Run!" Alec ordered, grabbing his sister who was shocked to see blood dribbling down her face. "Quick, go!"

It was lucky the man was dazed from his fall into the wall, or else he would have seen all three of them sprinting up the street for Magnus's apartment. They crashed through the door in their hurry, barely pausing to shut and lock it before taking the stairs two at a time to warn Luke and Magnus.

Neither werewolf nor warlock was pleased. Luke was worried that Valentine would move on them now that he had the general idea of where they might be hiding; Magnus was furious about his door he said had been "practically knocked off the hinges." Either way, it was with a grim air that the five sat down to discuss and eat. Not long after, Isabelle had asked Alec to fix her wound and then had padded off to bed with the hope of sleep. Simon had followed soon after, tired of listening to Luke's circular debates about moving their base.

Now, sleep having evaded him, Simon was more than interested to hear who had come so early in the morning for a conversation with Luke. He managed to free himself from Isabelle's sleeping frame, a little regretfully, and slink to the door to his room. Peeking out, he saw Luke seated on the couch, looking up at someone who was speaking. Simon paused, listening for the voices.

"…sure we have to move?"

"The shadowhunter knew the pack was there, I'm sure of it." It was the other voice, soft but familiar. "I saw him, no one believes me, of course, but I saw him. He was snooping around, trying to find a way into the old pizza house."

"We're running out of places to relocate," Luke said. "The pack's on better footing now, though. We could just go straight to Idris and camp out in the forests."

"Won't we be in more danger if we're near the city?" asked the voice, and Simon recognized it as Maia.

Luke laughed darkly. "I don't think Valentine suspects I'm going to camp on his front doorstep; he'll be expecting me to go into hiding."

"How do you figure that? He's got Jocelyn and Clary, and he knows how you feel about them." Maia sounded skeptical and Simon wondered why she was here. Wasn't there another higher ranking member of the pack?

"Valentine thinks all Downworlders are cowards," Luke answered easily. "He won't think I'd have the nerve to get all my pack together and move on him. That's not something cowardly Downworlders do."

"Then when are we leaving? I might as well tell the pack when I get back?"

Simon slipped through the door and into the hall, creeping silently toward the living room and the voices.

"Tomorrow morning," sighed Luke after a moment of thought. "We've been in hiding for far too long."

"Almost three weeks now, Luke." Maia sounded anxious. "Don't you think we should have moved sooner? By now I'm sure Valentine has strengthened his defenses."

"If we could have, it probably wouldn't have served us anyway. He thinks we're in hiding now, which is all the better."

Maia paused thoughtfully. "I heard about the Lightwoods and Simon. How are they doing?"

"I don't think Isabelle took it very well," Luke said. "She doesn't like being attacked by her own people. Alec was alright, he was probably expecting it."

"And Simon?" Maia pressed, and Simon was fleetingly grateful that she remembered him at all.

"He's better than I thought," Luke admitted. "I didn't know how he'd adjust to all this, being a vampire, the shadowhunters, this world….but he seems to be measuring up to it."

"That's good." Maia sounded truly glad. "Are they coming with us?"

This time, Luke paused, and it seemed ominous to Simon. "I want them to, and Magnus and I both planned on it, but after this, I don't know how good an idea it would be. They're both out of practice, and they could get hurt."

Simon's eyes widened and he almost burst into the room. Isabelle is going to kill Luke if he leaves her behind, not to mention Alec might go crazy if you keep him and Jace apart much longer. It took Simon a moment to remember that he, too, was a part of this and would be expected to have an opinion. I suppose I would want to go, just to make sure Clary's okay, but I wouldn't fight.

It sounded like a cop-out, even to Simon. Of course if he went he would be expected to fight, and he would have to if he wanted to get to Clary, but there was still a part of him that abhorred the war. Why did it have to come down to fighting? Why couldn't the Clave ever solve their problems with diplomacy?

Because this isn't the Clave doing this, it's Valentine. Simon felt a blooming renewed anger for Valentine. He was a man of action, a man of violence; he didn't consider what the consequences of his actions might be, because he would answer them with more action. It's always onward and upward for Valentine, isn't it?

Regardless, Simon knew he would be going to that fight, and he knew he'd be going after Clary. Isabelle is going to kill me if I don't tell her she's being left behind, though.

He crept back to his room as Maia said goodbye to Luke and closed the door silently. Isabelle had rolled over and was curled up in the blankets. In sleep, she seemed much less dangerous, much less stern and powerful, and much more like a young woman of sixteen. Sometimes, Simon forgot he and Isabelle were the same age, and it always took him by surprise when he remembered that they shared anything in common. He sat on the bed, thinking fast to himself before gently shaking her awake.

"What is it?" Isabelle asked into her pillow. "Are we leaving?"

"Not yet," Simon hedged, "and I think we should talk about it."

Isabelle rolled back over and stretched, yawning wide. "Talk about what?"

"Our leaving," said Simon, and Isabelle eyes searched his face.

"What about it? Are we leaving soon? I would have thought, given our attack that Luke and Magnus would want to go." Isabelle peeked behind Simon and saw the door was still shut. "Not soon enough."

"Well, it's just that, Izzy," Simon said uncomfortably. "I think Luke and Magnus and the whole pack, really, want to leave tomorrow morning, but…but you and Alec look like you need more time."

Isabelle's mouth was a small o-shape. "You think, do you?"

"It's not me," said Simon, endeavoring to keep his voice even. "After what happened today. Oh, come on, you know you and Alec aren't on your game. Look what happened!" He pointed at the small scar on her cheek and Isabelle slapped his hand away.

"I'm not some helpless, little girl who needs your protection, Simon," Isabelle hissed. "I have more right than anybody to be fighting Valentine. He killed my brother and he took my parents."

"Well, what good is it going to do if you get kill?" Simon demanded, but Isabelle was already up and searching for her clothes.

"You stay here, if you think it's going to be too dangerous," she spat, glaring at him. "I'm going to go save my family."

Before Simon could stop her she'd kicked the door open and trudged out, her black hair swinging violently behind her. And who's supposed to save you? Simon thought dismally, wishing he hadn't spoken at all.

Jace

The manor house was swiftly becoming a small, private nightmare, one that neither he nor Clary could escape.

Or Jonathan, if you feel like including him.

Which I don't, Jace answered himself angrily as he dabbed some blood off Clary's forehead. Her eyelids fluttered but she didn't wake, and Jace took a moment to caress her cheek and try and coax her back to sleep. She relaxed and Jace returned to cleaning some dried blood off a gash by her hairline and examined the wound itself. It wasn't deep, a lot of blood, but no damage to her skull.

Since Valentine had left them, Jace had been spending the majority of his time keeping Clary occupied and trying to keep the three of them from starving. Jonathan only deigned to joined them when he felt like making Clary miserable, demanding displays of fighting skills she couldn't possibly have and then snapping rude comments about it. She didn't seem to mind much, since he seemed more preoccupied with whatever he did in his study, but Jace always shivered just a little when he heard his angry shout or dangerous purr directed at Clary, and it had him constantly going to her aid. This time, he had just been a few minutes late, and she had the wound to show for it.

"Maybe next time, when I tell her to shut up, she will," observed a wry voice from the door to their room. Jace whipped around and saw Jonathan there, looking angry and bored all at once, like he'd been furious for so long now it hardly suited him anymore. "It's her fault we haven't got any food tonight."

"I said I'd go hunting," Jace snapped, tossing the rag he'd been using to clean the wound aside. "You were supposed to be teaching her hand to hand combat; I can't really see how that has anything to do with hunting deer."

Jonathan smiled, enjoying Jace's anger. "I was tired of trying to teach her and watching her fail. Maybe she's better suited to hunting."

"Maybe you're face is better suited to my fist," Jace growled and Jonathan laughed.

"Careful, little brother, we can't be going at each other's throats, can we?" Jonathan entered the room, looking around scrunching his nose at the small accommodations. "So long as we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together, it won't do to have any animosity between us."

Jace regarded Jonathan's smiling face darkly. "You have no intention of staying here."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not, but as long as I'm here-"

"Why don't you just leave now?" Jace demanded, watching Jonathan as he flicked aimlessly through a book Jace had been reading. "What are you waiting for?"

This time, Jace knew he had unsettled Jonathan, because the other boy slammed the book cover and glared up at Jace. "I'm not ready to leave yet. Why so anxious to get rid of me?"

Jace narrowed his eyes at the other boy. "Because you're a monster."

"That's not very nice," Jonathan observed, his eyes glinting. "I don't think you ever called Alexander Lightwood a monster, and the Angel knows, he was one."

"Alec isn't a monster," Jace said through clenched teeth, hating when Jonathan mentioned Alec because he didn't have the right.

"So you say," Jonathan replied snidely. "Besides who's to say I haven't changed my mind? Maybe I've decided to take you and dear Clarissa with me."

This brought Jace up short, whose next retort caught in his throat. He stared for a long moment, stopping only when Clary moaned softly from her place on the bed and rolled over in her sleep. Jonathan was smirking slightly, but there was confusion in his eyes, like he didn't completely know what he himself meant.

"Why would you do that, seeing as you hate us?" Jace asked simply.

This time, Jonathan hit the book off the desk. "It's your fault," he growled, and his confusion was replaced by anger. "If you weren't my parabatai I would have killed you two already and been on my way, but you're…." He trailed off, and Jace knew that he was feeling that same confusion their connection brought: a mixture of exhilaration and fury. "This is your fault."

"I didn't bind us together," Jace pointed out. "That was Valentine, and you just stood there and let him."

"If I hadn't, Jocelyn would never have left me alone," Jonathan answered sharply. "Trust me, I was more than happy to let her gush her pathetic feelings on you, but now that we're here, why bother?"

"You've got a bone to pick with Valentine, not me," Jace shrugged.

"Well, when I'm free, he'll be the first to hear from me," Jonathan said contemplatively.

Jace felt his breath catch. Jonathan wants to stop Valentine; he wants to kill Valentine. It hit him then, that though they were certainly not friends, they could be allies, united in their hatred of Valentine. He wondered if Clary would agree to it, if she could reconcile herself with her brother's demon nature just long enough to escape.

"We can help you," said Jace at once. His eyes moved quickly to Clary and then back to Jonathan, who saw his glance and smiled condescendingly. "I'm serious, Jonathan, let Clary and I help you. The three of us will work better than just you."

"I highly doubt my sister will agree to such an arrangement." Jonathan drew a step nearer, so that they were level now. "If I escape, and bring you two with me, it won't be for your help."

"Then why?" Jace demanded, sensing something dark and foreboding stirring in Jonathan. "What could you possibly want with Clary and I if we're not going to help you stop Valentine?"

His smile was a like a razor. "I think you and I get along so well, don't we, Jace? We've made quite the nice pair so far, fighting. As for Clary, she's just an added entertainment. Besides, that werewolf mutt of yours will come looking, and it will be easier to keep him at bay if I've got her."

"You're as bad as Valentine," said Jace, ignoring the comment about their connection. "He's using Jocelyn to control Clary and you're going to using Clary to control Luke. You like being like Valentine? You always want to grow up to be just like dad?"

Jonathan's eyes darkened and his hand snapped up, catching a hank of Jace's hair and jerking him to his knees. His breath came out in a sharp gasp, and for a moment, Jace thought he might strike him not unlike how he'd hit Clary, but instead, his other hand came up and took Jace's chin. He forced Jace to look up into his very black eyes, his pale, handsome face, and his snarling mouth. "And have you looked in a mirror recently, Jace? Who do you see when you catch a glimpse of yourself? Is it your real father?" Here, Jonathan smirked, a fake pitying smile. "But you don't know your real father, do you? He never told you."

Jace strained a little against his hold, but didn't speak. Jonathan was waiting for him to admit he wanted to know.

"Maybe I can tell you," said Jonathan softly, twisting Jace's face from side to side. "Would you like to know about your parents?"

"Are you going to take Clary and I with you?" Jace asked instead, and Jonathan's finger's constricted.

"Will you help me, Jace? I don't really need Clary's help, she's practically useless. But you and I…we work well together." Jonathan considered Jace's burning eyes. "Valentine is no friend of yours, you wouldn't care if he was dead. We can do it."

"And after his death? Am I to expect you'll just give control of the Clave back to the shadowhunters and we'll go on our way?"

"Well, I don't know about that, but I know you two fair better with me in charge." Jonathan loosened his grip on Jace's skin. "You especially, parabatai."

"You're not my parabatai," said Jace automatically. "Alec is."

"Not what the runes say," Jonathan chuckled. "Come on, Jace, come with me, I'll make sure you're rewarded for it."

"And Clary?" Jace wouldn't let the matter drop.

Jonathan's gaze flickered. "She's more than welcome to come along. I must keep my parabatai happy if we're going to burn the world down together."

Jace considered the prospect of convincing Clary that they were going to help Jonathan. The few times she had mentioned him of her own volition, it had been with disgust or revulsion, not to mention how often he hit her. "She won't be happy."

"You told Valentine you could control her," said Jonathan with a smirk. "I expect that you can do the same for me."

Clary

"You can't be serious," said Clary, staring at Jace. "You want to help Jonathan?"

"Clary, stay put a moment, I want to disinfect the cut." Jace reached out for Clary, who was standing by the desk, but she swayed on the spot on and Jace dragged her back to the bed where he sat her down and began dabbing her forehead with a sterile cloth. "If Jonathan can escape, I don't see why we need to stay locked here. If we go with him, we have the chance to stop Valentine."

"And put Jonathan in power," Clary pointed out, swatting Jace's hand away. "You said yourself you'd rather have Valentine than Jonathan."

"I'm not going to actually help him take over the Clave," Jace said, incredulous. "I'm sure in the disarray that will ensue, we'll have the chance to stop Jonathan."

Clary shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "He'll be planning on us to betray him."

"Well, then, it won't matter what we do," Jace reasoned. He saw Clary's uncertainly and said, "There's no other way out of here. If we go with Jonathan we'll have a chance of getting back to Alicante and your mother."

"But, Jace, he's a demon," Clary whispered, and Jace tried to push her back onto the bed to rest her head. "What if he…well, what if he gets angry at us before we reach Alicante. Or what if he decides he doesn't want to go and makes us go with him. Or-"

"Clary." Jace placed two of his fingers on her lips, effectively silencing her. "What other way is there out of here? If something happens along the way, we'll leave and go our own way, but I can't see the point in remaining here."

Though Clary wanted to leave, though she wanted to get back to Alicante and her mother, she couldn't see going with Jonathan as a solution. He was bound to Jace, but that didn't mean he owed her anything. The few times he had been around her under his own will, he had attacked her, and she didn't really like the idea of a trip with Jonathan who was apparently unbound by her father's will.

"If Jonathan can get us out of here, you can break the bonds between Jonathan and I and we won't owe him anything." Jace's eyes were gleaming with excitement, and Clary wondered if a small part of him was excited on Jonathan's behalf, and this, of course, brought on a worse thought.

What if Jace is actually a good influence on Jonathan? What if the reason he has agreed to help us is because he feels Jace's more gentle nature? She saw his hope mingling with his desire to escape. If I separate them, do I ruin my brother? If I leave them bound, do I condemn Jace?