"You're holding it too tightly."
Clary frowned and glanced down at the sword in her hand. "What do you mean too tightly? It's heavy, I'll drop it."
Jonathan sighed and shook his head. They were standing in the only room she hadn't spent much time in within the apartment. The training room seemed to double as weapons storage, or perhaps Valentine had just wanted to display all his methods of murder. It was a large square room with a hard wood floor and white plaster walls. Every inch of plaster was covered in swords, axes, and various other weapons, each supported by pegs on the wall. There was an impressive collection of daggers in styles from across the world behind her. Whips of different styles and sizes were coiled against the wall opposite her, but Clary intentionally ignored them. Instead she focused on Jonathan, dressed in casual work out clothes, sweatpants and a black teeshirt. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him this dressed down, but unfortunately the casual clothing did not reflect his attitude.
For the last three hours, Clary had been subjected to his form of training, or more accurately, Valentine's. It was like he'd been possessed by a drill sergeant. He corrected every movement she made, criticized her lack of technique, berated her when she made a mistake that allowed him to win their sparring matches. Honestly she wasn't sure if she was more surprised to find out he was a hardass when it came to training, or that he'd managed to get through three hours of hand to hand combat and pinning her to the ground without even one flirtatious look or touch. He was so focused on teaching her to defend herself that he hadn't even commented on her workout clothes. The skintight, green yoga pants and sleeveless, grey teeshirt had seemed so ominous when she first tried them on. She'd been sure this would devolve into his usual wickedness before she learned anything. Now here she was, exhausted and a little irritated by a serious, focused Jonathan, wondering if she was a bit disappointed that it hadn't.
"It's a sword, Clary. Of course it's heavy." Jonathan pointed with the tip of his own sword at her outstretched weapon. She didn't much care for his sharp tone. "If you hold it like that, you're sacrificing your mobility and grip."
"How does holding something tighter sacrifice my grip?" She scowled. "What kind of backwards logic is-"
He cut her off by striking the flat side of her sword with the blade of his. It sparked, clanging loudly in the open space. The vibration of the blow was so intense as it traveled up her arm, that she felt her muscles spasm and nearly dropped the sword. Jonathan arched an eyebrow as she begrudgingly readjusted her grip and mumbled a curse down at the floor.
"Too tight and your muscles are too tense," he continued on with his annoying lesson, using his sword to adjust hers upwards when she held it out again. "You won't be able to move or adjust your angle quickly enough. The sword should feel like an extension of your arm."
"Like eyepatches are extensions of pirates, or peg legs." She shrugged. The brief frown he flashed her was worth it for her stupid throw away comment. It irritated him that she wasn't taking this as seriously as he was anymore, and she was too tired to come up with anything better.
"Clary, life then wasn't Treasure Island. Peg legs weren't as common as I think you imagine."
"What about the eyepatches?" She grinned to tease him further. "Lots of one eyed sailors on the high seas?"
"No," he sighed. "Just men with enough sense to keep one eye constantly adjusted to the dark when they had lower decks without reliable lighting."
She frowned, her sword falling just a bit. "Seriously? Why do you even know that?"
"Because I read Clary. You should try it." Jonathan smacked her sword with his again and she cursed, scrambling to keep it in hand. "Focus. You're grip is too loose now. How did you ever survive in that antique shop?"
Clary narrowed her eyes and slashed at him with her blade, but he irritatingly parried the blow. He wasn't even moving that quickly. It seemed like such a lazy, easy motion that she sort of hated him for it.
"For starters, the demons weren't berating me while I fought them." She snapped back.
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not berating you, drama queen. I'm making sure you know what you're doing."
"I'm not completely inept, Jonathan. I held my own in that shop. I saved your ass didn't I?"
Jonathan's blade snapped out almost too quickly for her to block it. She jumped back a step, managing to keep her sword up and ready. He followed with lazer focus as he twisted his wrist in a quick, sharp circle. The tip of his blade scraped around her own in a tight arc that bent her grip so awkwardly her sword clattered to the ground. He stood there with and arched eyebrow, sword tip pointed at her throat.
"Well now you're dead. Shitty grip. Try again."
She scowled and bent to grab her sword when he stepped back, grumbling under her breath. "Just because you move like lightning..."
"I'm not moving any faster than you can. Why bother when you're so slow?"
Clary's jaw clenched and she slashed at him again with renewed focus. The first strike, he parried with a quick smack of his blade. The second he simply stepped away from. She decided to play dirty and kicked out at him instead. When he dodged it she was already bringing her sword across from the other side. The blades sparked as they clanged together and bounced back apart, and Jonathan smirked.
"See, that wasn't bad. I mean, it was, you telegraph your moves, but it was a step in the right direction."
"I wasn't conditioned like an assassin since I was a child," she snapped. "Maybe give me a bit of a break here. I'm tired Jonathan."
He ignored her jab at Valentine's style of parenting, and fixed his black eyes on her intently. "The demons don't care if you're tired Clary."
"Obviously," she shot him a pointed scowl and watched his eyes narrow. The demon in front of her didn't much like the comparison. In two strides he was invading her space, his blade striking out to stab her. She danced back, twisting to avoid it and swung back at him in response. Jonathan blocked the blow and swung at her in two easy motions, but she was luckily prepared. She managed to dodge him, then yelped in surprise when he spun and arced his blade around to slash at her throat. She felt the sting of the tip pass across the side of her neck as she stumbled away. Clary slapped a hand up to the wound, her fingers coming away smudged in blood when she held them back out in front of her.
"You actually cut me!" She cried, heart pounding with a sudden spike of adrenaline. Jonathan simply smirked, his blade pointing at her so steadily, it didn't even waiver.
"Still tired?"
"Asshole!" Clary shouted, charging to attack him. She wasn't out to kill him, but she certainly wanted to make them even. The irritatingly fast jerk laughed as they moved across the hardwood floor in a flurry of swinging limbs and clammering metal. It was the first he'd smiled like that since they started training, but now she was too annoyed to appreciate the change because it just made her want to hurt him more. She couldn't believe he'd actually cut her, and on her neck! She didn't give a damn how good he was with a sword, he wasn't going to be doing that again. Clary fought with focus, slashing and blocking with furious strikes. Jonathan looked like he could have been reading a newspaper in his free hand while he matched her, which only pissed her off more. When she resorted to more jabs and kicks between the strikes of her blade, he laughed again.
"Good!" He grinned. "You're getting it."
She struck out to stab him but he twisted out of the way and stepped into her space in the same motion. Holding his blade downward, he smacked it against hers to knock it out of the way and grabbed her arm. With a tug, he had her locked up against his chest with one arm, while her sword hand was trapped under his other, stiff and outstretched. She couldn't bend it because he had trapped it down at the elbow against his side. All she could do was lean back in his arms and stare angrily up at him.
"Don't let them get too close. Once I'm inside the range of your arms, it's too late." Before she could say anything, he let her go and raised his sword again. "Try again, but focus on keeping our distance."
Clary attempted a new attack, but in only a handful of moments, Jonathan was back inside the circle of her space and grabbing her. This time, he locked her back against his chest and held her there with his sword resting across her neck.
"Better," he sighed, sending a puff of warm breath across the other side of her neck. She shivered, already breathless from the exertion.
"I think you're just getting off on beating me."
Jonathan chuckled softly. The arm that wrapped around her waist tightened a bit. He spoke softly, just against her ear.
"Winning in a fight with you is not the part that turns me on."
"Really?" She asked skeptically.
"Where's the sport in it when you suck so badly? Though, there is something to be said about you writhing about beneath me."
Clary tried to elbow him but was trapped between his arm and the sword. He laughed again and nuzzled down into her throat. His tongue swept out before she knew what he was doing and she felt the faintest sting when he licked her wound. He dodged her next elbow by stepping suddenly back, laughing all the way. Clearly his mood was much improved.
"What it wrong with you?" She demanded as she covered the spot with her hand. Her cheeks went hot and red. Jonathan grinned merrily back at her.
"A lot, I expect. You can't really be surprised at this point."
"You licked my...what are you a vampire?"
"No," he shrugged. "But I knew one once that loved to party. Blood sports can be fun." His smile grew sharp, his black eyes dancing with amusement. "Would you like me to show you?"
"Are you crazy?" Clary laughed harshly. To make the point that she would absolutely not be participating in his freaky, dangerous kinks, she struck out with her sword. "No way!"
Jonathan laughed as he blocked her next few strikes. He knocked her blade aside with a slash, snapping his own back down her front. She froze at the sudden closeness of the blade, sucking in a breath as it cut cleanly down the front of her shirt. She looked down at the damage and her now exposed bra before her eyes snapped back to him.
"Really?" Clary didn't wait for his response. She was focused on an earlier lesson in disarming an opponent. Her blade clanged against his, but rather then drawing back to slash again, she scraped her sword down along his and angled the tip toward his hand over the simple, barred hilt. He was faced with the choice to keep his grip and sacrifice his fighting hand, or drop the sword to avoid her blade. He chose the latter, but as his sword clattered to the floor, his other palm struck against her wrist. Fingers suddenly numb, Clary's sword clattered down to the floor with his. She cursed, balling a fist to swing at him and instantly regretting it when he caught her wrist and swept her legs out from under her with a kick. They both went down on the wooden floor, Jonathan straddling her thighs. She shoved at him once, but the glint of metal in his hand caught her attention and she went still when he pressed a dagger down across her throat. The look on his face said he was far too pleased with himself.
"Where did that even come from?"
He snickered softly as he gazed down at her in a predatory way that made her skin flush with heat. "I always have a knife. I thought we covered this. If you did the same I probably wouldn't be able to do what I'm about to."
She felt her heart hammering faster as she gazed up at him. "Which is?"
His blade moved to the slash across the front of her shirt, the blade slipping in between the torn edges. With a flick of his wrist, he cut up through her collar, tearing it completely, and knicking her collarbone as he went. Clary hissed, attempting to shove him back, and then froze when the blade pressed back into her throat.
"Ah ah," he chided mockingly. "Don't move."
"Jonathan..." His name came out harsh with her next breath.
"Don't move," he repeated and leaned down over her with a smirk. "In this scenario, I didn't win the fight to kill you."
Clary sucked in a breath when he kissed the cut he'd made. Once again, his tongue traced over the wound and the hand she had fisted in the shoulder of his teeshirt trembled and tightened.
"Stop it," she breathed. She didn't know what to make of this sensation. The cuts he'd given her weren't deep, but they stung uncomfortably. On the other hand his mouth and tongue made her skin vibrate like a live current and she was left in a confused state of panic and strange excitement. "I told you, no weird blood games."
His breath tickled her breast as he laughed softly, kissing a trail up the side of her neck. She would have liked it more if his blade wasn't tracing down her abdomen.
"If you had won the fight, you'd have a say in that."
"Don't you dare-" He cut off her protest with a kiss. Clary struggled only a moment before the heat of him and the softest of his lips had her kissing him back. It was a languid, hot, almost lazy kind of melding. Slow and teasing, the way he'd kissed her in the alley. He nipped at her bottom lip, making her momentarily forget about the knife between them. He parted her lips with his own, his tongue gliding like velvet against hers, and Clary let out a shuttering breath between them. Admittedly, this side of Jonathan was better than the drill sergeant, but the prick of the blade made her freeze again.
The demon drew back enough to search her eyes. She blinked, staring up at him anxiously. When she opened her mouth to speak however, he hushed her softly.
"Shh, don't panic. It only hurts a little. You're the one who wanted a training break."
"This is not what I meant."
He grinned impishly and ran the tip of his knife back up between her breasts, tracing it along the lace that decorated the cup of her bra.
"Come on Clary," he teased. "Be adventurous."
"This is way beyond adven-ah!" Her shout echoed mockingly back at her in the large room when he flicked a cut across the top of her breast. Pain flashed through her, followed by a rush of endorphins that made her shudder beneath him, like the area had been flooded in cool water. Clary watched him lower his smiling lips to the small cut and shivered when he sucked at the sensitive flesh. His black eyes locked on hers, holding her in his stare, as he traced the wound with the tip of his tongue and sucked at her skin again.
"Oh god," she breathed, half in panic, half in a swell of arousal she couldn't explain. It hurt a little, but when he looked at her like that, teasing her with his mouth, something stirred in the pit of her stomach that made her skin tingle beneath his attention.
"See?" He smirked and kissed the cut sgain. He mouthed her wound to distract her as the blade slipped into her bra, but it didn't work. She made a soft sound of alarm as it passed over her nipple and dragged the cup of her bra down below her breast. His kisses moved slowly over the swell of flushed skin, drawing her nipple between his lips while the knife traced down along her uppermost ribs. Clary arched into the wet suction of his mouth, moaning softly when he pinched her nipple between his teeth and rolled his tongue around the throbbing bud after. It pulsed with her heartbeat, pulsed like the tingling place between her thighs. God this was wrong, and frightening, but hell if it wasn't oddly exciting as well. Her legs shifted beneath him, squeezing together to quell the ache steadily building there. Jonathan chuckled softly into her skin, his mouth pulling away from her nipple with a wet pop. He was still watching her, kissing a slow path down her breast to the place where the blade still rested. He paused only a moment in warning. Her shaking inhale was too loud in the echoing training room as she realized what it meant. It mocked her excitement as surely as his dark, knowing stare. The blade cut slowly across her rib. The pain made her gasp, but this time she didn't really mind it. She was too distracted by his tongue as it gathered the thin trail of blood. His black, fathomless eyes somehow smoldering with heat enough to melt her to her core.
The knife was moving again as he nipped and kissed her. It trailed lightly down her side, almost unnoticed through his other distraction until it slipped between her legs and she let out a high pitched sound of alarm. Clary went very still, her eyes wide. The flat side of the knife ran down between her legs and she opened them instinctively to avoid being cut. Jonathan smirked against her skin, watching the swirl of emotions pass across her face when he rubbed at her clit through her yoga pants with the flat tip of the blade. The thin material provided little in the way of protection. She felt it as if he was touching her bare skin and her heart jumped up into her throat. He was careful not to cut her, but the sharp sensation of the blade's tip moving across her clit was more than enough to make her flinch and gasp at once. A twining of fear and anticipation had her fist trembling against her grip on his shirt.
"Seriously, what the fuck is with you two and knives?"
The sudden voice made them both flinch. Jonathan's eyes snapped up to the door a few feet away and Clary followed them in a wide, deer-in-headlights stare. She froze at the sight of the woman watching them, shaking a bouncing halo of tight, dark curls.
"Kesi." Jonathan said in greeting, though he didn't sound particularly pleased with her appearance. Clary had to agree.
Kesi tapped the toe of a black, heeled boot onto the hardwood. She was still annoyingly beautiful, Clary noted. Even in the simple jeans and rose colored teeshirt, her caramel colored skin shone under the light as if she'd been brushed in gold. Clary wondered if the effect was natural, or if she just covered herself in body glitter like Magnus. Her strange, pale green eyes moved between the pair on the floor before settling on Jonathan with an arched eyebrow.
"Is this some sort of weird Shadowhunter thing? Like, you all have a fetish for blades since you use them to fight?"
Jonathan sat up straight while Clary hurried to fix her bra and clamp the pieces of her shirt together. What was with this warlock and walking in on them like it was just your average day? It really only made Clary dislike her more.
"How did you guess?" Jonathan asked sarcastically. Kesi just rolled her eyes.
"I don't even want to know how you all feel about leather then. Whenever you're done being kinky, I really need to talk to you."
"I'm thinking you ruined the kinky mood." Jonathan sighed and jumped up to his feet, offering Clary a hand to tug her up to her own. Her eyes moved to the floor in embarrassment and she kept herself slightly behind Jonathan. He made a nice human shield for her shame. She heard Kesi scoff before her heels clicked soberingly down the hallway. Jonathan was right, the moment of strange, dangerous foreplay was over. Now she sort of just wanted to hide in his bedroom.
Jonathan made a soft sound of irritation at the back of his throat, turning to look at Clary as he raked his fingers back through his white blonde hair. She must have looked as shocked as she felt because his face softened with a small smile and he reached out to touch her cheek.
"I'm sorry Clary. I didn't know she was coming."
She clutched her shirt a little tighter and scowled. "Her timing is shit."
He paused just a moment and then a wicked little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Clearly he thought she was upset by the interruption, but not because the warlock caught them in yet another compromising situation. His fingers slipped around the back of her neck, pulling her gently into a kiss. With the warlock out of the room, she let him.
"Don't worry," he murmured against her lips. "I'll play with you again after she's gone."
Blushing hotly, Clary mumbled about changing her shirt and hurried out of the room to the sound of his soft laughter. She raced to his room and shut the door behind her. For just a moment she focused on slowing her breathing. She had to tell herself that Kesi obviously didn't care what they were doing together, but that did little to make her feel better. Instead Clary quickly found a replacement shirt from her drawer in Jonathan's dresser and tried not to have a panic attack as she changed into it. It took a few more moments of quiet, slow breathing before she worked up the nerve to leave the room and follow the sounds of arguing into the living room.
Kesi was pouring herself a generous glass of bourbon when Clary made it into the room. She took a deep drink and topped it off again before turning a glare on Jonathan.
"Why the hell would I return to him after the stunt you pulled in New York? You know he already hates me just for being a warlock. Doubly for my involvement with you. He thinks I seduced you, or some stupid shit, to save myself." She motioned wildly with her glass before downing the rest of the contents. "Now I'm helping you hide in one of his favorite moving apartments, so he's not exactly in a forgiving mood. I mean shit Jonathan, it's been almost three months!"
"So you just ran off and hid with your downworld friends?" Jonathan was leaning against the back of the couch with his arms crossed. Clary glanced between them and slid down into the seat. His black eyes shifted to her, still glinting with irritation, but it softened when he saw her face. His hand moved to her shoulder, squeezing it briefly. She didn't move, simply watched the heated pair as they frowned at one another.
"He will kill me Jonathan!" Kesi exclaimed as she slammed down her glass. "He'll torture me to get to you, and then he'll kill me out of spite. He's been waiting for an excuse for a year. What did you expect me to do?"
"What I asked you to, for starters."
"I passed on your message!" Kesi turned back to the crystal decanter and poured another heavy drink. Clearly she was in need of something to settle her nerves.
"I told that giant idiot what you told me to say, he passed it to Valentine. I wasn't going to deliver it personally. How stupid do you think I am?"
Jonathan arched a brow. "At the moment?"
Kesi turned a glare back on him and took a swig of bourbon. "Very funny, but I don't have a death wish. He got your message, I got the fuck out of dodge. Now he has people out looking for me. They trashed my apartment!"
"Why would you go back there if you're so afraid of him?"
"Because I needed some things from it," she snapped back. "I don't have nifty little hideaways packed with supplies like some people."
To that, Jonathan scoffed. "I fail to see how that's my fault."
Kesi looked like she was about to explode. "You got me into this mess! I was in the clear. As long as I did odd jobs for you, Valentine left me alone. Now I'm back on his shit list and he's going to kill me!"
"He's not going to kill you Kesi."
She slung her glass back onto the bar with a sound of frustration and moved to the opposite side of the couch from Clary, slumping down into it.
"Right. He'll just slap one of those pain inducing bracelets on my wrist to mute my power, and torture me until I tell him how to get into this place. I'm fucked. I'm so fucked."
Jonathan sighed as he rounded the couch. He sank down onto the edge of the coffee table facing them and ran his fingers back through his white hair.
"We knew he would figure out where I was. All you have to do is keep your head down. Stay out of sight."
"You don't think I'm doing that?" Kesi threw up her hands. "The longer you stay away, the more furious he gets. People are talking about how he lost his golden boy and his rebel daughter in one go. Everyone is wondering what you're up to, and he's just fuming that you'd dare it at all."
"Well, that would piss him off. His narcissism can't abide people whispering that he failed at anything."
"This is not a joke Jonathan." Kesi sat forward and jabbed at him with a pointed finger. "You pulled me into a way bigger shitstorm than you made it out to be and now you're asking for more favors. I'm not doing shit for you if you can't promise me some kind of safety."
The room was quiet a moment as they stared at one another. Kesi was frantic. Jonathan just seemed irritated. He had that calculating look on his face that Clary knew meant trouble, but she wasn't sure if Kesi recognized it. Then again, for whatever reason, she didn't seem to be as intimidated by Jonathan as most other people. Maybe she knew the look, but didn't care.
"This is my life, Jonathan. I'm not going to risk it so you can play grabass with your sister in a magical safehouse."
Clary went very still on the couch, her chest tightening unpleasantly. Jonathan spared her a brief glance before his black eyes snapped back to the warlock.
"Kesi." The sharp tone of his voice made the girl in question deflate a bit. The warning in it had her sitting back in her seat to watch him. Maybe she was smart enough to know not to push him after all. "I think it's time you got to whatever point you came here to make."
Clary saw her jaw tighten in anger, but it all melted away as she sat forward to rest her head in her hands.
"I'm scared Jonathan. You're dad is insane, and not the fun kind that you are. He's militant and fixated on destroying everyone like me. Pissing him off, when he's already gobbled up half the world, is not something I signed up for."
"You signed up for not dying." Jonathan snapped out the response, but when she flinched he let out a sigh and softened his tone. "I won't let him hurt you Kesi."
"Yes, you will." Kesi's voice wavered as she glanced up at him. "If I'm not useful, you'll let him have me, and you won't think twice about it. I know you well enough for that."
Clary drew in a soft breath when Jonathan smiled. The expression was cold, his black eyes fixed on Kesi. He reached out to tilt up her chin with a finger.
"Then maybe you should do your best not to disappoint me again."
A tear slid down the girl's cheek, her eyes closing a moment in misery. Clary found herself oddly disturbed by the exchange. She almost pitied the other girl. She'd gotten herself into bed with a demon and now she was out of options. Jonathan had been oddly sweet to Clary, in his own way, while they were here. It was a bit of a jolt to remember that kindness was such a rare thing, she might be the only one to benefit from it. Kesi was a tool he used from time to time, and perhaps they slept together, but that wasn't going to save her in the long run. If he couldn't use her for his ends, she couldn't hide beneath the umbrella of his protection. That was simply that.
Kesi took a slow, shaking breath as they stared at one another. She wiped away the tear when Jonathan's hand fell away from her face and sat up straight against the couch. Her pale eyes went to the floor. She knew she had no choice.
"Alright. Fuck, you're a cold bastard. I'll raise the bitch."
"Manners," he warned and she sighed.
"The Lady," she corrected herself, non too enthusiastically. "I'll raise the Lady of Edom."
Clary felt her stomach flutter at the name. She recognized part of it. Edom, the demon dimension. Jonathan wanted to raise a demon.
"What is she talking about?" Clary asked. Jonathan turned his attention back to her, but his expression was carefully blank.
"Ok, so don't freak out."
"The lady of Edom? That sounds like a greater demon." Clary gripped the seat of the couch at her sides, glaring at him. Was he absolutely insane? She thought about it and then decided it was pretty likely, to be honest. "What the hell are you doing summoning demons like that?"
"I need her help Clary. She's the only one willing to give it at the moment."
"Oh right, I forgot. Demons are known for their unparalleled trustworthiness. Oh wait..."
"She won't turn on me Clary." He sighed, rolling his eyes as if she was the one being a complete idiot.
"She's a demon!" Clary exclaimed. "That's what they do. I don't care what she promised you."
Kesi looked between them and stood slowly. "Yeah, I'm just gunna let you two talk..."
Clary ignored her as she left. Her attention was fixed on the brain dead idiot in front of her. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"She doesn't want me dead. She's pretty adamant that I live, actually."
"Why would she possibly-"
"Because she's my mother."
The sentence swallowed the room into utter silence. Kesi, who was leaning up against the bar with another full glass of bourbon met Clary's eyes only briefly before she looked pointedly into her glass. This was not news to her, and frankly that made it all the worse to swallow.
"I don't understand," Clary looked back at Jonathan and shook her head. "Jocelyn is your mother."
Jonathan's face hardened, his eyes going flat and cold. "Jocelyn is the woman who abandoned me as a baby because I didn't cry enough. She said I was evil before I spoke my first word. Lillith has watched over me my entire life. Her blood runs in my veins. She is more of a mother to me than that woman ever could be."
Passing over his extreme disregard for their mother, Clary took a slow breath. "Her blood? She...she is the demon Valentine used to experiment on you."
He gave her a grim smile. "Lucky me."
It was taking a lot to absorb this. Honestly Clary felt a little sick. She'd known what Valentine did to them both for a long time now. He was a sick, heartless bastard. The shock came from the fact that Jonathan knew the demon who had provided his enhancements. He seemed to know her well enough to ask for favors. Her thoughts went to their first night in the apartment, the helpful friend Jonathan has hesitated to name.
"She's the one who gave you the branding iron and that salve."
He nodded once, watching her closely. He seemed to be waiting for her to start freaking out. She wanted to, she felt a little lightheaded, but for some reason she found herself sighing instead. What was the point in arguing about something neither one of them could change? He seemed just as surprised by her acceptance as she did.
"So how many favors does she owe you exactly?"
"Well," Jonathan glanced over at Kesi then gave Clary a shrug. "I don't know. She simply wants to help me succeed."
"At what?"
"She wants to help me take down Valentine."
This time, Clary went very still, her stomach twisting. Her fists clenched in her lap and her eyes locked with his. "You have got to be kidding me."
"I mean, it makes sense." Kesi interjected from the bar. "He's no friend to demons. He summons them for his ends and has them destroy themselves when he's done. Lillith can't be a fan."
"Shut up," Clary snapped at the same time that Jonathan said, "Don't help me."
Kesi grumbled something under her breath and took a sip of her bourbon.
"You can't go after Valentine," Clary shook her head. "He has an army that stretches across the world."
"Which isn't exactly ideal..."
"He has the mortal instruments."
"Raziel made it clear he would not be summoned again after he denied Valentine's request to destroy all Downworlders and unloyal Shadowhunters. The angel is not his ally. You were at the lake, you saw how much he disliked him."
"Stop it," she snapped angrily. "You can not fight him Jonathan. Think! How the hell would you beat him? And say you did. What about the thousands of Shadowhunters out there still loyal to him?"
"Most of them hate him as much as we do, Clary. The only reason they don't show it is because they are afraid."
"They should be afraid! That means they're smart."
"It means," he sighed in irritation. "That should he die, very few of them will seek revenge. Hell. They would even follow you if it meant the old bastard was in the ground."
Her eyes narrowed on him. "Is that what you want then? To take him place?"
Jonathan sat forward, bracing his elbows against his knees. He took her hand and clasped it firmly between his own, searching her face. The look in his dark eyes was entreating. He wanted her on his side more than anything else.
"Don't you want him gone Clary? Have you even thought about it? We could be free, of him and all the bullshit he's created since he destroyed the Clave. We could have our own lives." When she tried to pull her hand from his, he tightened his grip and leaned in closer. His black eyes seemed to burn from within as he held her in them. He believed in whatnhe was saying. He really thought they had a chance. Clary remained unconvinced.
"If Valentine is gone, we get to make our own path. Your friends would be safe. You would be safe. Isn't that worth it? Don't you want to put an end to all of this?"
"You're talking about killing our father. Our father, Jonathan."
The barest of smiles tugged at the corner of his mouth. The knowing look he gave her was enough to make her go still.
"I think we can both agree there are worse evils. He is evil."
"And what would that make us?"
He grinned. "Heroes."
She pushed herself from the couch, moving away from him. Jonathan watched her cross the room to the bar, pointedly ignoring the silent warlock sipping booze beside it. Clary poured herself a glass and took a swig before she spoke. Perhaps the annoying other woman had the right idea. This was crazy, suicidal even. Valentine was not just well armed. He was smart, devious, far too well informed. How could they ever hope to put an end to a man who had crumbled an entire society through sheer force of will?
"So, let me get this straight." She motioned with her glass at Jonathan and felt herself smiling. The expression bubbled up from a place of panic and the look on his face said that he knew it. "You plan to kill Valentine with the help of a demon."
"In part," he shrugged.
"And his army?"
"I'm working on that too. There are plenty of downworlders out there who would be willing to fight if it meant an end to his single-minded slaughter."
"The same downworlders that call you the devil."
"That is the part I'm working on."
She laughed without humor, setting down her empty glass. "Right."
"Clary-" he stood, moving toward her, but she held up a hand.
"I need to think," she sighed. "Just...just give me the night ok? Let me process this, because right now you sound insane."
"Is it really so crazy to want him gone?"
She didn't have an answer for that. Clary had wanted him gone for years. Since the first time she met him and he manipulated Jace and dismissed her without a care in the world. He had left her to die, nearly killed her himself more than once. If she had never shown him her gift on that boat, he probably would have finished her off with the rest of the Clave. Yes, she wanted him gone. Yes, she wanted to be free. Yes, she wanted her friends to be safe, but did any of that matter? Was it worth it to try if he held the world in his fist? Clary had no doubt Jonathan was smart and capable, but this was so much bigger than anything he had done before. Was it worth it to trust that he could pull this off? Was it worth it to allow herself to hope for that, even for a moment? She didn't know if she could take the disappointment should he fail. Assuming of course they lived through such a betrayal, and let's face it, that wasn't likely.
"I need to sleep." She didn't know if she was talking to him or the worries floating around in her head. Jonathan nodded solemnly, remaining still as she walked toward the hallway.
"Just think about it Clary. Please." His voice followed her on her way to the bedroom. "Think about what it would mean for everyone if he was gone."
"I will," she promised without looking back.
xx
"You seriously never told her any of this?" Kesi moved back to the couch, brushing Jonathan's arm as she sank down into the leather cushions. "What does she think you've been doing all this time?"
"I've kept her distracted," he sighed slumping down beside her. "Getting her to trust me was the first step before dumping all of this in her lap."
Kesi watched him with a smirk over the rim of her glass. After Clary had destroyed the others, he'd replaced them with the plain, glass backups from Valentine's study.
"From what I saw in that room, she trusts you more than I do."
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jonathan sighed and leaned his head back against the couch to glare at the ceiling. This hadn't gone entirely as planned, but at least Clary wasn't throwing things. It seemed like a step in the right direction, at least.
"Now is not the time to tease me Kesidorma."
The young witch made a soft sound of amusement and nudged at his hip with the toe of her boot.
"Come on, you could use a little teasing. You're far too tense."
He didn't look at her. He wasn't in the mood. "The Romanian werewolves refused my offer."
To that she let out a soft sigh. "I'm assuming you didn't leave any alive to tattle afterwards."
"Obviously."
"So move on," she shrugged and shifted to rest her chin on his shoulder, watching him with a smile. "They aren't the only wolves in the world, and they certainly aren't the only downworlders. Isn't the Seelie queen one of your little groupies?"
He glaced at her from the corner of his eyes and scowled. "I wouldn't say groupie."
"Fan, whatever. She's addicted to what your dick did. Same dif."
"Was I not threatening enough when I told you not to tease me?"
Kesi laughed softly and sat back up straight when he turned to her. "I'm just saying she's likely to lend a hand in all this. The fair folk are no fans of nephilim, that goes triple for Valentine. If you plan to overthrow him, she'll likely jump at the chance to help if she thinks you'll show her special treatment afterwards."
"I know Kesi. I'm counting on that already."
"Good," she grinned and finished off her bourbon. He was willing to bet the amount she had downed since arriving was the reason for her suddenly chipper attitude. Not that she wasn't oddly chipper for one with a heart so dark. It was one of things that had initially interested him when they met. She could kill with a smile, she kept things fun. When Kesi had learned of her demonic parentage at a young age, she hadn't balked at it as many warlocks did. She reveled in her power, and the knowledge she'd been gifted by the lesser demon that was her father. Jonathan respected that. In many ways they were very alike, and another time he would have welcomed her attempt to distract him. Tonight however, with plans to be made and a red head to manage, he was not in the mood for chipper distractions.
"What about the vampires?" She continued on as if he weren't clearly irritable. "The new york clan is under Valentine's thumb, but they aren't going to complain if you promise to free them from it. And if they won't, you ask one of the other clans."
"Gee. Thanks for the tip." He didn't hide his sarcasm, but she didn't seem to mind.
"Can I make a tiny suggestion?"
"Is it going to annoy me?"
Kesi smirked and set her glass down on the coffee table. When she leaned back against the couch beside him, her fingers moved to the thin material of his teeshirt. He let her play with his sleeve as she spoke, watching her closely.
"When you do find some more downworlders to join you, maybe you should try to do it without killing most of them. It's hard to trust a guy that's covered in the blood of your closest friends."
"Sage advice," he deadpanned to her soft laughter. Her fingers trailed back around his neck to play with the soft hair there.
"Just putting it out there," she shrugged and her eyes moved to his mouth pointedly. "And speaking of putting out..."
Jonathan grabbed the hand that was touching him, holding it stiffly between them.
"You can sleep in the guest room Kesi."
She pouted, but didn't argue. "Fine," she sighed dramatically and stood from the couch. "But if you decide you'd like to get rid of a bit of that tension, you know where to find me."
She winked at him before sauntering off toward the hallway. In the past, he would have followed, happy enough to pass the time with her. Now he had Clary in the other room. If she was frustrated with him now, rolling around with his favorite warlock down the hall was not going to win him any favors. Better to ignore temptation and let the red head cool off. He wouldn't risk chasing her away, not when she had finally come around to his way of thinking.
"Jonathan." He was pulled from the gathering worries of what was soon to come by Kesi's soft voice. When he turned, she was leaning against the wall just inside the hallway. He arched a brow, but she only smiled back at him.
"It's going to work," she insisted softly. The way she looked at him, her pale green eyes glimmering with excitement, let him know just how much she believed it. Believed in him. He would haved loved to see that same look in Clary's eyes. He hoped to soon.
"Goodnight Kesi."
The warlock smirked, wiggling her fingers in a wave of goodbye as she turned.
"Hail to the king," she said as she disappeared down the hall. It was only then, that he felt himself smile.
The king indeed.