It was nearly two in the morning when Clary heard the knock at her door. She didn't respond of course. There were only so many people it could be, none of which she had any desire to speak to. But the door opened anyway and Jonathan sauntered in.
Clary sat straight on her bed, quick as she could manage. There was no reason to give him ideas. The sick bastard already had enough of them. She watched him closely as he locked the door behind him and slid his steele into his boot.
"I've brought you something." He said it with a smile, pausing to check on the painting of Jace she had been working on for weeks. Since the night Jonathan had tortured her with his image, she'd nearly finished it. It was one thing she could grudgingly thank him for. She could now remember every detail of her beloved's face, and had rushed to capture it before the image slipped away again.
"You were running low on supplies," he said, tossing her a bag. "Now you may paint all of him that you can stand. Perhaps I'll even commission a work of me."
Clary didn't respond, but dropped the bag of paints onto the floor beside her bed. The message was clear.
Don't count on it.
Jonathan was only pushed further by her obvious rejection. With a grin, he indicated the canvas. "It could be dark, thrilling. An image of the corpses of Idris's fallen. A throne of bodies, and at its peek I would ravage you for all of them to see."
The image he evoked sent a shudder of revulsion through her and she scowled at him as he approached.
"Don't you have someone else you can annoy. Maybe some female friend who actually wants you?" She cut him a scathing look as he sank down onto her bed beside her, resting his head back in his arms. Jonathan's smile pulled into the wicked curl of a thing that meant he was thinking about something terrible.
"Oh, but the chase is so much fun. It amuses me to push you, knowing one day you will give into me. And you will." His eyes slid down her legs and back to her face very slowly, and she didn't bother to hide the shudder of her disgust.
"I do have other suitors, if that is what you meant." He shrugged. "After all, I am very attractive. You thought so."
She rolled her eyes, and Jonathan sighed wistfully.
"Isabelle was something else, I must admit. I would have loved to get inside that one. Perhaps when we've caught the Lightwoods, I will."
"You don't have to be crude." Clary scowled. Silently she prayed that her friends would remain in whatever hole they had hidden in for so long.
"Oh, but I'm so good at it." He smirked, sitting back up. When she refused to look at him, Jonathan chuckled and rolled over on top of her before Clary could anticipate the movement. His fingers slid under her chin, forcing it up so that he could search her eyes.
"Don't be jealous, sweet sister. She would only be a fling." He stroked her cheek lightly. "She never had your fire." He chuckled. "She would have never fought as hard as you do."
His forefinger stroked the line of her lower lip, dipping into her mouth until she snapped down, fully intending to bite it off. Unfortunately he managed to snatch it away before she could. There were days when Jonathan didn't even pretend not to want her. He was a disgustingly forward thing, and it was clear that their blood relation had zero impact on his interest in her.
"Get out of my room," she hissed, pushing at him until he caught both her wrists and pinned them together above her head with one hand. The other he used to trace the line of her shirt with a sly grin.
"We have unfinished business, you and I."
"Does Valentine know you're here?" Clary asked, trying to ignore the warm brush of his fingers as they slid up beneath her shirt.
"Do you think he would care if he did?" The way he looked at her, she knew there was a good chance that, no, he wouldn't, but she wasn't just going to sit here and let this demon have his way.
"I think he would care that his children are fornicating, whether he likes the pair of them or not." She replied, "He has a strict moral code now, as you know. I'm sure incest is not part of it."
Jonathan frowned, his hand had reached her breast and took little time to force up the protective padding of her bra to grasp it. "Incest is such a strong word." He said slowly. "After all, we are hardly even the same species, Clary."
"You're still my brother," she said, hoping to stop him. Hoping for anything really.
"No." He smiled faintly, eyes going distant a moment. "I am a demon, remember? Besides, isn't this what demons do?"
She hissed in a breath when he leaned forward, kissing her throat and biting down on it painfully. Her skin was so pale that she would have a bruise in the morning, but something told her that he intended it. Like a mark, a claim. He acted like some feral beast now, and despite the obvious factors part of her was unable to deny that she did feel something. Be it hatred or revulsion or whatever else, she felt it. After so long in her frozen numbness the change was almost welcome, but she couldn't admit that to him.
God, she missed Jace. She needed him now, to protect her and to hold her. Not Jonathan, who was too rough and cold as ice. Not with a monster. What did this make her that she could not fight such an attack? What terrible creature was she, that she would let her brother do such disgusting things to her?
Was his evil rubbing off on her? Was she changing into something heartless and empty like him? It had only been a matter of time, she supposed. After losing so much, how could she not seek comfort in the first thing available?
When God had abandoned her, how could she not take comfort from the Devil?
Still, Clary knew she couldn't do this. Regardless of their blood relation, he was a terrible, soulless thing and to let him touch her was like spitting on the memory of Jace. It was not worth her desperate need for comfort.
"Get off of me." She cried, bucking her hips up to throw him to the side. Caught off guard, the demon rolled, releasing her long enough that she could scramble away off the bed and grab the first thing closest to a weapon.
Jonathan recovered quickly, pushing himself to his feet on the opposite side of the bed with a sigh of irritation.
"Must you be so difficult?" he asked, arching a brow when she brandished her thickest paintbrush like a dagger.
"Get out." She replied flatly. He needed to leave, before the swirling emptiness inside of her chest forgot why she was fighting again. Loneliness was a much more powerful thing than she had ever realized. She pictured Jace and held to that image, the sadness it conjured, if only to keep Jonathan from her thoughts. He was like a sickness, melting its way beneath her skin. One for which she knew there was no cure.
"Clarissa…" he began but she shook her head.
"Get out."
Jonathan watched her a moment, glancing down at the paintbrush, probably knowing it would be easy to take from her, but he didn't move. After an endless moment, he rolled his eyes and the tension in him melted away. He ran his fingers back through his hair and chuckled.
"Very well. I suppose I'll find my pleasures elsewhere tonight." With that, and one last look that spoke too clearly of exactly what he had planned to do with her, he turned and left her room, locking her in.
The moment his footsteps had receded down the hall, Clary callapsed onto the floor, breathing like she'd been held under water.
Too close. She thought, Saying no was becoming far too difficult now.
She wondered how much longer she could do it. She wonder more what that said about the person she was becoming under his influence.
And again with the depravity, but I seem to be good with it so maybe it's a good thing.
Probably not. I probably need help. o.O
Anyway, this seems to be not so much a story as brief snippets into their life now. It's more of a glance at the significant things, but I'm alright with that. Maybe it's for the best since I honestly don't have the time for a full novel on this fandom.
Maybe one day, once the next books are out and the world is fresh in my mind, I'll write something substantial, until then, I can only offer you this disgusting(HA!) little ficlet.
Enjoy, if you're so inclined.
I know I am.