Luke carried a box of doughnuts. Doughnuts wouldn't solve anything but they'd make it a little easier to bear. He was happy Jocelyn approved, when she smiled at the sight of them.
"Let's step out into the hall for a moment," she said, wearing a pair of denim shorts she had painted on, with a peasant top blouse. When he first arrived in New York, he'd learned some of Jocelyn's artist friends nicknamed her Jolene. When he asked her about it later, she'd laughed it off, told him it was in reference to a song. Luke listened later, and found it fitting:
Her beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locks of auburn hair
With ivory skin, and eyes of emerald green
Many had called Jocelyn a beauty, but she'd never seen herself that way. She was devoted to her art, which lined the hallway, itself painted in a series of jewel tones. She had Clary sponge paint the door. He was already missing them.
"I've made my plans, and I've packed bags for myself and Clary. She will just need to put some clothes in hers. I also wanted to tell you ahead of time, I'm going to tell her about her brother. That her father… disappeared with him." Jocelyn's face started to crumble, and Luke braced her with a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go tell her then. I'll say he was my friend too. That his behavior got erratic. Let her know there is a real danger with him."
Jocelyn took a deep breath. "Simon is still here and I think it would be good if he hears this too, that way he won't think Clary disappeared, and maybe he can convince her to follow my lead if we fail."
Luke smiled at that. "Clary will have to convince herself. She has a strong will."
"Really, it's like dealing with myself." Jocelyn shook her head, then turned to open the apartment door. The inside was a bold mishmash of styles, of things salvaged from the street – Luke's pickup came in handy often to haul the larger finds, and Jocelyn was supernaturally stronger than her petite frame would suggest. And strewn about it all were the minutiae of their daily lives: hair ties, handwritten notes, half-finished sketches.
The four of them sat down, the box of doughnuts open. Clary and Simon were pleased with the interruption to their school work. Luke doubted that would last long.
"Unfortunately kids, Luke isn't here just to bring you doughnuts," Jocelyn started.
"Really? Aww, now my feelings are hurt," pouted Simon, already looking young, large brown eyes behind round lens, in a baggy t-shirt and gym shorts.
"We're not kids, Mom," Clary declared, going for the exact opposite effect, defiant with red hair aflame, green eyes sharp as cut gemstones, in a camo print top and cargo shorts.
Jocelyn tensed, then forfeited. "You're right. I apologize."
"So, why did you come by Luke?" Clary moved on.
"Luke had an unexpected meeting today with someone from our past," Jocelyn answered for him.
"Oh? You never talk about your past. How past are we talking?" Clary asked.
"Before you were born," said Jocelyn.
"You two have been friends that long? I hope we're like that, Clary!" Simon enthused.
"Of course we will be, Simon, but what's so unfortunate about this?"
Jocelyn clasped her hands and looked her daughter in the eye. "This is going to come as a great shock but please, let me explain myself. Know that Luke has wanted me to tell you this for years. He has not because I asked him not to."
"Okay…" – Clary moved back in her chair – "you're starting to scare me here."
"I lied to you about your father. He is not the man in the photograph, and in fact he is very much alive."
"What?" Clary uttered, dumbfounded. "I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you correctly. You lied and told me my father died?! What–? How–?"
Luke reached over and took her hand in his own. "I know this is hard, but for now to listen to your mother."
"Okay, okay," she replied, momentarily soothed. "Keep going, Mom."
"Your father's name is Valentine. I met him when I was young, in my teens. He was handsome and charming and we married as soon as I came of age. I was very happy for a time, but he had a dark side. He became manipulative, deceitful, unpredictable. I knew I needed to get away from him, and I needed to take you away from him permanently. So I did."
There was a pause at the table. Jocelyn gathered her thoughts. "I told you he was dead because I was told and I hoped that he was dead."
"Huh? But wait, who's the J.C. on the box, whose hair is that? I know that crying was real."
"This is the most painful part. As I said, Valentine is very charming. I didn't realize the danger until it was too late. J.C. stands for Jonathan Christopher. He is my firstborn, your brother."
Clary blanched. "Oh, God. What happened to him, Mom?"
"Your father found out I was going to leave and take Jonathan with me. So he took Jonathan, and made it look like he killed himself and the baby."
"What do you mean 'made it look'?"
"He burned our house down."
"Oh, Mom."
"I don't know how he's done it, but he is alive. Luke… saw him today."
"Hey, if he's alive, could the baby be alive too? My brother."
"Yes… I suppose he could." Jocelyn began to cry and Clary got up and put her arms around her, while Simon made eye contact with Luke, pointed at himself, then the door, making a walking motion with his fingers. Luke shook his head no and mouthed, "Stay."
"Well, we need to find out! And we need to get this guy behind bars. He sounds nuts," Clary determined. Luke stayed quiet, letting Jocelyn lead. He would fill in some details later.
"Luke already called the police and they are searching for him now," Jocelyn said, though Luke wasn't thrilled with that story, "but they suggested we get out of town."
"Can't the police protect us?" asked Clary, and that was exactly why. This would be so much easier if Jocelyn told her the truth. She was almost of age.
"This is the best thing we can do for now," Jocelyn said instead.
"But this is serious! He's a murderer! Well, maybe he's a murderer. An arsonist, at least." Clary paused, frustrated. "This is weird, isn't it. But still!"
"I know, my dear, but things aren't always fair," Jocelyn attempted to close the subject. Clary unknowingly obliged, by asking, "Where was I in all this?"
"You hadn't been born yet. I was pregnant with you but I wasn't showing. Valentine didn't know."
"So what, this guy ruined your life, maybe killed my brother, or took off with him, and now we're going to run? Have our lives ruined again?" Clary for better or worse, had inherited all the fight and passion of both of her parents.
"Don't go too far ahead." Jocelyn applied the brakes. "Just for now, we're going to leave for a bit. To be safe. We'll leave it to the police."
Clary's curiosity however, continued. "Wait – Luke, you talked to him today? Why'd he come to you? Did he threaten you? Does he think that you and Mom are together?"
Luke exchanged a brief look with Jocelyn, who silently gave him the go-ahead to say what he saw fit. "No, Clary, he wasn't mad about that. I don't know why he came to me and not your mom but I knew Valentine too. I met him at school. I'm the one who introduced him to your mom."
"After the fire, I needed to get away from it all. That's why Luke wasn't around during your earliest years. We got in touch later and you know the rest," Jocelyn explained, and at least this part was a semblance of the truth.
"But Luke, what did he say? 'Hey, how are things?'" Clary questioned, and Luke fought laughter. "Along those lines. I wish I had answers for you but please, listen to your mother. Leave town for awhile. We'll get this sorted."
"Well, it's summer, so it's not so bad. I'll miss my art classes, though. I paid for them myself." Clary started to budge.
"I will reimburse you. So you'll go?" Jocelyn asked.
"I don't like it, but yes," Clary huffed. Then Simon spoke for the first time: "When will you be back?"
"I'm not sure but we'll be in touch. Either directly with you or through Luke." Jocelyn replied, attempting to comfort.
"Well, I better get packing. Come with me, Simon." Clary stood and by the looks of it, refrained from flipping the table. "I've got you a bag started, dear, grab it from my room," Jocelyn called after the two of them.
"Are you all ready, Jocelyn?" Luke whispered, after the door to Clary's room closed.
"Yes. We'll leave once Clary is done. Though she's going to get mad all over again when I tell her to leave her phone. I'm leaving mine, too. I'll mail you when I can, and you, and I'm sure Simon can walk us to the street. I'll call for a cab, but Luke, do be careful with Valentine."
"I'll be alright. Focus on yourself and Clary."
"Thank you, for going along with this. For not arguing with me. But remember what I said: it's easy, to want to trust someone you once loved. And no matter what happened between you two, I know you loved him. And further complicating things, I know he loved you, too."