Author's Note: This chapter contains mentions of torture, captivity, abuse, nonconsensual sexual touching, mentions of rape, mentions of incest, and Sebastian.

Chapter Nine

Food was delivered to Clary's room by Endarkened soldiers over her past three wakings. Three days? Maybe more. Maybe less. As tempting as it was to doze in and out of sleep at all times with nothing else to do, she had decided she would try to stay awake as long as felt right before letting herself sleep, hoping her body would follow a natural sleep pattern and she would be able to keep track of the days, but it hadn't helped with her lost sense of time.

The food was amazing each time, the small round trays always overflowing with fresh, ripe fruits, small bites of meat and bread. She hadn't touched any of it, though her stomach strongly disagreed with her decision. The food was just too rich and beautiful to not be drugged or poisoned. So, she sat and stared at the floor, her hunger beginning to rival the pain in her throbbing back.

She was given water as well, though after a few tempting hours of the cool liquid sitting alone on the floor, she couldn't bear the dryness in her mouth and throat any longer, and figured it couldn't hurt to at least drink water. If there was any chance it wasn't drugged, she would need the strength it would give her to think clearly, and she decided it was worth the risk. Clary had downed the glass, which then, to her surprise, immediately refilled itself.

Since the water never ran out, Clary poured large amounts over the half open lashes on her back. It didn't do too much, but she thought it might keep the gashes from becoming overly stiff or infected. The iratze had stopped the bleeding and closed the cuts enough, but the fact that it couldn't heal them all the way let Clary know the weapon had been enhanced in some way.

She couldn't see the marks of course, but she could feel the thick scabs forming, and had to be careful about the way she moved and slept. Twisting too quickly or in the wrong direction would bust the wounds, but not moving at all left her muscles stiff and aching. The water, at least, provided momentary relief, when it ran down her back. She would then use a piece of torn bedding to dry it off as gently as possible, before slipping Sebastian's shirt back over her head. As much as she hated it, it was all she had.

She was doing fine with this routine and just the water, the three trays of food abandoned to the corner of the room, until Sebastian returned. She could tell, now, that he was nearing the edge of his patience with her stubborn refusals.

"Eat your food, Clary," he demanded, for the hundredth time. Sebastian sat next to her on the floor, shoving the tray into her lap. "Eat," he repeated, when she didn't look away from the wall.

"I don't want your food." She at last turned to him, eyes hardening.

Her brother shifted closer to her, and she saw the muscles coil in his shoulder as he raised a hand. She flinched back before she could stop herself, the silver tray clattering on her knees as she tried to back away, but he only picked a lock of hair from in front of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She winced inwardly at the submissiveness in her reaction, but Sebastian seemed neither upset nor content with it.

"You haven't eaten in a week. You must be starving," he said simply, and today his voice was soft and gravelly, like he'd been up all night working on something. His eyes softened with his voice, and Clary despised the way his expression could shift from viscous to loving within seconds. As much as he tried to portray it in his gaze, Clary wasn't fooled: he did not love her.

"Eat. I don't want you to die before we have time to properly be together."

"I bet Jace is starving. Did you give him food?" she snapped, trying to push down a shudder as she untucked the curl Sebastian had moved. His black eyes searched her face before he answered. "I did," he said curtly, ending the discussion there. "Now eat up." He pushed the tray toward her again, and she made the mistake of looking down at the food, fresh and plentiful. She really was hungry….

"Eat."

Deciding she couldn't take another punishment so soon, Clary hesitantly picked up a piece of fruit and ate it with her fingers. It may have been the best thing she'd ever tasted, and though she tried not to scarf it down, she felt like she blinked and the tray was empty. The food eased the raw cramping of her stomach instantly, and for a split, involuntary second, she was grateful.

And then came a swell of anger, because she wasn't thankful for this, for being starved, and then fed when it suited this demon. Clary felt like a dog, a plaything, rewarded when she was good and docile, and it made her face burn red. "Happy?" she hissed, slamming the tray down and shoving away from him. He seemed unphased by the outburst.

"Quite. The food was enhanced, so it should make up for the week of nutrients you lost," he mused contentedly, and instead of moving closer to her again, he leaned back against the wall opposite her, crossing one arm behind his head as the other slipped a dagger from his weapons belt. He blew a few strands of silvery hair from his brow before tossing the knife into the air lazily, and it flipped blade over handle before falling back to his palm.

He appeared relaxed and calm, as if the last time he saw her he hadn't shredded her back, and it took a moment to work up her courage before speaking again.

"Please, Jonathan. Let him go," she whispered, figuring it was worth a shot if he was in a good mood, or at the very least, worth reminding him she wasn't going to forget about Jace any time soon.

Sebastian cocked his head, but said nothing.

"I know…I know you want me, but he has nothing to do with this. Just let him go. Please," she added, trying to sound understanding—polite, even. She wanted to believe that he possessed some capacity to care, to show compassion, and for an instant, she thought he might, as he caught the hilt of his dagger and twisted it contemplatively, his face knitted in thought, as if genuinely considering her request.

But then his features warped, and a dark teasing tone ran through his words. "It's cute how both of you beg for each other's freedom," he drawled, and Clary's fists clenched at her side.

She was about to protest his brushing off the matter, when he was suddenly moving. He threw the knife before she had time to jump, and she gasped as it landed in the wall, a foot from Clary's side. She was about to curse him, shout at him for almost hitting her, but she stopped herself, knowing that if he had wished the dagger to land in her skin, it would have.

Instead, she looked closer at where the knife had dug into the wall, and saw that beneath the thin tip of the blade, a large housefly's wing was pinned. She hadn't even noticed it buzzing around the room earlier, attracted by the remnants of food on the tray next to her. It fluttered weakly, stuck with one wing free, the other crushed under metal. How Sebastian had managed to catch only one wing, Clary didn't know.

"I hate insects."

Now Clary jumped, too focused on the fly to have noticed Sebastian had stood until his voice came from above her. She glared at him from the floor, resisting the urge to back further into the wall, if only to keep from irritating her back further. He bent to snatch the satchel he'd brought with him into the room off the floor.

"Here. I thought you might want to change. Of course, you look amazing in my shirt, but I'm sure you'd like to be out of blood stained clothes, hmm?" He reached into the bag and tossed a pile of neatly folded clothing to her, and she stared down at the fabric in horror. It was a black night dress, all silk with lace trim, expensive and shimmering. Folded into the dress was matching lace underwear, fancier and more provocative than anything she'd ever owned.

"I am not wearing this," she declared, throwing the clothes at his feet, glaring at them in disgust. "I'd rather be naked," she added, immediately regretting saying so as a crooked, lustful smile split her brother's face. "That would be just fine with me," he laughed, eyes darkening as they slipped down her form, as if imagining the sight.

Shuddering, Clary got to her feet, dragging a hand up the wall for support, and stood frozen, looking down at the lingerie as if it might bite her.

"C'mon, dearest. You don't want me to have to encourage you to do as I say, do you…?" Sebastian let the question hang in the air, voice twisting, gentle and mock pitying, and she heard the threat beneath the pleasantries clear as day. She wished it didn't make her throat cinch and her legs tremble, but it did, and she thought that of all the orders to obey, this would be the one. She'd rather dress herself than have Sebastian forcefully change her.

"Turn around," she growled, scooping up the clothes.

"Good girl," he praised, smile widening, and he turned and faced the door. Clary's cheeks flushed angrily, and she blinked back tears as she turned away from him to begin peeling off Sebastian's shirt and the little, black shorts. She grabbed the nearly see-through, lacy bra next, sliding it up her arms and noting the odd, little bows that held the straps together at the top of her shoulders, before carefully clasping it behind her back. At the very least, she was thankful to have one after the other was whipped to pieces and she was left topless on the floor.

As she stretched her arms above her head, she winced and bit down a gasp, and the dress slipped smoothly over her head to fall down her back. She quickly switched into the lacy underwear, before balling up the dirty clothes and chucking them at the back of her brother's head. He clucked disapprovingly, and turned as he gathered the bloody clothes and underwear.

Clary pulled anxiously at the tight clothing. The dress came to midthigh and clung snugly to her slim frame, accentuating what little curves she had. The top of the gown had a perfectly fitting, lacey neckline that plunged too low for her comfort, and the scoop on the back was even lower, leaving her wounds visible for all to see. At least she didn't have to worry about the tight fabric chafing the scabs.

"I do hope you can at least try to trust me now. Perhaps I can even let you out of this room, if you are good for me," he said, his voice muffled, and she looked up to see him holding his shirt to his lower face, inhaling slowly. The image of him smelling her blood and sweat struck her surprisingly hard, and she felt tears come to her eyes again.

"This is a prison cell, not a room," she managed to choke out. "And what about Jace, huh? Are you just going to leave him to rot?"

Sebastian hummed consideringly, and stuffed the shirt in the bag with the rest of the clothes. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind, but it is a fair idea," he replied.

"And how am I supposed to trust you when you nearly whipped me to death?!" She shrieked, nails digging into her palms until it stung. "I will have those scars forever because of you."

"Those scars make you mine—"

"It hurts to walk. It hurts to breathe. Most of all, it hurts to look at you. I can't stand that I have a brother who's as monstrous and worthless as you!" Clary was out of breath with how enraged she was, and she was screaming in Sebastian's face before she realized she should have been backing away, not moving closer. But it was too late to run now, as his hand shot out to wrap around her throat, holding her in place.

His eyes flared, glinting like deadly shards of ice, piercing her and locking up her stomach with fear. Clary sputtered as he drove her against the wall by her neck.

"Maybe I should let you and Jace see each other. I know you would cry so pretty seeing what I've done to him," he snarled, his fingers tightening until her mouth opened in a gasp, her hands scrabbling at his wrist. "And I know it would just kill him to see what I've done to you, sister." His free hand snaked around her side, palm pressing harshly to the lacerations on her back until she cried out in pain and tried to jerk her back away from his hand.

"...And what I'm going to do to you," Sebastian whispered, hand crawling back around to her hip, then to her thigh, before pressing upward, where a brother should never be, the skirt of the dress riding up his arm.

Clary coughed, bucking back into the wall, nowhere to go, no way to escape his sickening touch. The grip around her throat loosened, and she gasped for air, shaking her head. "You're going to kill him," she cried, breath short and wobbling.

Sebastian laughed. "Oh, no. I'm just going to slowly suck the life out of him, bit by bit, until he begs me to kill him."

A sob tore from her chest as he spoke before derailing into panicked whines as his fingers worked over the new underwear. She shook her head desperately, tears streaming down her face now. "Please," she wept, "please, don't," and she wasn't sure if she was begging him to remove his hand, or to free Jace.

"His life is as much mine as yours is. And he has it coming, what with daring to try and keep you from me. It's the only way, Clarissa," he hissed, voice dropping as his gaze became frantic, crazed in his need for her to understand his warped reality, as he removed his hand from between her legs to wipe at her tears. "The only way you can see that you truly love me. That we belong together—"

"I will never love you!" Clary spit the words like a curse, began kicking and flailing, fists fueled by pain and fear and anger and disgust. But Sebastian only pressed his palm down again, fingers crushing around her neck, nails biting in under her jaw, before he lifted her off her feet as easily as if she weighed no more than a paper weight. Clary again tried to suck in air to no avail, eyes going wide.

And then the door opened behind Sebastian.

"Sir, there's been—"

"I'm busy," Sebastian snarled at the shadowhunter in the doorway, black eyes never leaving Clary's.

"Yes, Sir, but they're here."

Clary's eyes darted to the doorway as she scratched and pried at Sebastian's fingers. The figure in red fidgeting nervously and her brother turned his furious gaze to his subordinate. "What? Who?"

"The, um, the Lightwood children. Along with a warlock, a vampire, and a wolf, Sir."

In an instant, Clary was released and dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping, too oxygen deprived to fully take in the news. Alec and Isabelle were here?

"Impossible!" She heard Sebastian shout, and he started toward the door.

"Sir, they have already found the boy."

Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks, and without another word, he was grabbing Clary by the wrist and tugging her up and out of the room. She had never seen the hallways, and the whiteness of them surprised her, disorienting after the cold, dusty stone of the room she was in. The halls felt darkly clean and sterile, like some secret government facility, whiter even than Sebastian's silver blonde locks.

Sebastian dragged her to the left, his nails digging into her, and it was then that her mind caught up, her lungs finally pulling in air. It was then that she realized. They had come for her and Jace. They already had Jace. She could get away.

Clary urgently dug her heels into the floor and pulled back against her brother, but he was wholly unaffected, only pulling her more forcefully forward, letting her bare feet stumble on the slick floors. She cried out in frustration and began kicking and flailing, scratching and digging at Sebastian's hand on her for the second time today. She could hear a commotion in the distance, behind them, or below them, maybe—she couldn't tell.

When all of her attempts to escape failed, she threw herself to the floor in an attempt to slow him down. If she could just give her friends enough time to find her, she had a chance to get away.

"Let me go!" She demanded, and at last Sebastian turned to acknowledge her, exasperated and cold, his upper lip curling in his aggravation. The commotion behind them grew louder, distinct sounds of weapons clashing and voices shouting; Sebastian glanced briefly over her head and down the hallway before seeming to decide something, and then he was bending down to grab at her. "Honestly, Clarissa, stop acting like a child."

"No–no, stop!" She cried as he yanked her off the floor and tossed her over his shoulder. She twisted and kicked, beating her fists on his back as he continued onward, further away from her rescue. A swell of panic twisted her guts, and she looked around desperately, hoping to see someone rushing around the corner, but no one showed. Then, she looked down, and saw Sebastian's steele, tucked in its sheath in his belt.

"Stop squirming," Sebastian ordered, a hand tightening on her leg, and she did the exact opposite, in hopes he wouldn't feel her slipping the adamas from its case, but just as she reached for it, he growled in annoyance and set her down on the floor. As soon as her feet touched, she was being spun around, her hands pulled behind her and wrenched upward until her forearms were folded over each other and tied together by rope Sebastian had drawn from his weapons stash.

She tugged at the ropes regardless of knowing they'd be too tight and too expertly tied for her to free herself, still struggling to pull away from her captor. Still, what little she had managed to slow them down had given the others time to push on, and she could hear the snarling of a wolf around the pristine, white corner, and Endarkened speaking in tongues and barking orders.

Clary was about to try and jam her heel into Sebastian's shin, when she felt the tip of a blade press a centimeter into the flesh of her aching back, and she stumbled forward with a shocked scream.

"Walk, or you'll have more scars to remember me by." His voice was cool, and he kept the blade digging into her back as he pushed her forward, but she could hear the frantic edge to his tone. After what he'd done to her, she was almost certain he would stab her before letting her escape, and she forced her shaking legs to carry her further down the hall, Sebastian right on her heels.

When she tripped over her own feet and Sebastian's knife cut open one of the lashes near her spine, she cried out again and scrambled to continue walking, terrified he might impale her in his rush to get out.

And then came a familiar voice from down the hall, like an echo of her own pained cry, shouting over the sounds of battle.

"Clary!"