Chapter 4

Luke woke the next morning. He had slept soundly, so soundly that as he woke up, he couldn't remember what it was he had to do that day, though he remembered there was something. Then it came back.

He had given Valentine a time that was far enough away as to tell Jocelyn about his appearance and prepare himself for seeing him again, but not too far away as to make Valentine frustrated. Valentine was not patient man.

Luke got up and made himself breakfast. As he sat waiting for the coffee to brew, he thought of last evening. His and Jocelyn's actions had been done in haste. He still did not know which was the best course of action, so it wasn't that he disagreed with Jocelyn about the particular decisions of last night. It was not the same as the last time they had parted ways, when he had truly disagreed, but he had a cold feeling in his chest nonetheless. Would he ever see Jocelyn and Clary again?

It was different that time, in that Clary had not yet been born. He had grieved not being with her, but he had never met her face to face. This time he said goodbye to a nearly adult woman.

As a young man, he had thought often of himself and Jocelyn raising children of their own. Then he had offered to marry Jocelyn and raise Clary as his own. Though neither of those scenarios played out, he hadn't been as far off the mark as he thought. He had raised a child with Jocelyn, only not as her spouse or as the father of that child.

He'd been honored the first time Jocelyn had asked if he would watch Clary while she went away on business, knowing how fiercely protective she was of her. He worried Clary would be agitated without Jocelyn. Why was she being left with Luke, who showed up out of the blue?

The first few times Luke stayed with Clary at their apartment, sleeping on the couch. When that went well, and Jocelyn needed to travel more, Luke converted a room at his house into a bedroom for Clary and she started spending the whole time Jocelyn was away at his place.

She liked exploring the stacks of the book shop. He had an almost endless supply of books to read to her at night. He'd been cooking for himself long enough that making her food didn't intimidate him, and Clary could entertain herself with her paper and colored pencils at the kitchen table when he really needed to take care of something.

It was difficult to not think of Clary now; he could see the door to her bedroom from where he was sitting. He could only hope that she would be back soon, that Valentine was telling the truth. In the past he thought he would be angry if he saw Valentine, and certainly Valentine resurfacing had caused a major disruption, but for better or for worse, he was one of the most important people in his life, and what he more felt was a sense of anticipation, and that this meeting was inevitable.

It was time to open the shop. His shop wasn't large, but he did a good business. The room was packed with bookshelves upon bookshelves, and held the strong scent of paper. The front was lined with windows, but further back was dimly light, just enough that people could see the books. The floors were wood, and so were the shelves. He had gray carpet runners lining the aisles. The walls, the ones that could be seen were a light gray as well. There was a peaceful quality to the place.

Work went as usual: greeting customers, talking with regulars, giving book suggestions when asked. He had already tidied up the shelves of books last night. Often he just sat at the front desk, meditating.

When closing time came around, he found he was too tense to eat. He was glad he had not put off this meeting any longer. He turned the shop sign to closed and locked up the cash box. Then, when the time came he went outside to wait for Valentine.

He didn't know if Valentine would want to come inside, but Luke had decided he would suggest it. He'd been thinking of what he wanted to ask and those questions weren't something he wanted to talk about in a cafe or restaurant, and he was still afraid of a fight breaking out and hurting Mundanes. He concealed a weapon, the Morgenstern blade that Valentine had given to him that terrible day.

Valentine arrived promptly at nine o'clock. Again impeccably dressed, again with a magnetism that gave passerby pause.

"Lucian." Valentine had been a skilled orator when they were in Idris. His voice was commanding with a rich undertone. If people had not paid him attention from his bearing and manner, they almost certainly did after they heard the sound of his voice.

"Valentine."

"I saw that Jocelyn and Clarissa left the city."

Luke tensed. He assumed Valentine would know this, but it was still jarring.

"Yes, I told her I spoke with you."

"I assumed you would. I am not displeased."

"There are many things I want to ask you, but I don't want to ask them here. Would you be willing to come inside?"

Valentine's eyes widened slightly. "You are truly willing to invite me in? You believe I do not intend to harm you?"

"You haven't yet and the questions I want to ask you, I don't want to ask in public."

Valentine seemed satisfied with that. He gave a slight smile. "Let us go inside then."

Luke unlocked the shop door and led the way, through the store and to the door that led to his living quarters. Valentine followed a few paces behind. When they got to the kitchen, Luke gestured at the table for Valentine to take a seat, and then sat down across from him.

Valentine looked out of place sitting in his kitchen, and not just because of their falling out. He had grown up in a grand manor home, and it suited him, while Luke's kitchen was fine but ordinary. White laminate countertops, wood cupboards, a small apartment size refrigerator. The table they were now sitting at was a small round one he purchased at an estate sale. He used to sell antiques as well, but he decided to use the retail space solely for books a few years ago. He still had a mishmash of items around the house from those sales; artwork, decorative items. All the furniture he had either picked up off the street and restored or purchased secondhand. He kept things clean enough, partly motivated by Clary's frequent visits, and he was able to keep up with household repairs, but the house was by no means glamorous, not the way the Valentine's family home had been.

He and Amatis had lived in a small, modestly furnished cottage in one of the smaller villages surrounding Idris. They struggled after his father's death, and even more so when his mother left. They had enough for food, and what they needed for their education was provided to them, but they didn't have much else. In their earliest winters alone, he and Amatis had slept in a huddle by the fireplace to stay warm. He knew that others weren't doing this, and told no one.

Jocelyn and he became friends after his mother's departure. She came over one day when Amatis was struggling to mend one of Luke's shirts. After that, the Fairchild's started sending them care packages regularly. Luke shook his head; seeing Valentine was bringing up all sorts of memories.

"Is Jonathan alive?" Luke asked, after Valentine sat down. This was Luke's highest priority question, and he led quickly with it.

"Yes, he is. I have cared for him."

"Why did you run with him?"

"That decision was made in a fit of madness. My plans had failed, my wife betrayed me. I considered our marriage over. I knew Jocelyn was terrified of Jonathan, and I did not know what the Clave would do with him if they discovered he had demon blood. I would rather kidnap him than allow him to be harmed. By the time I regained my composure, Jocelyn was gone."

Luke was surprised Valentine had answered him so easily.

"And Clary, you know she is your daughter?" said Luke, continuing with his most pressing questions.

"Yes, though I was not aware she existed until recently." Valentine looked somewhat frustrated at this.

"How long have you known?"

"For a year or so. Jocelyn's efforts were not for naught. She hid from me for most of this time."

These answers, though revealing were terse. Luke wasn't sure if Valentine would answer further questions about his children. He decided to ask about something Valentine had revealed on his own.

"You said you were not pleased with what have you done. What did you mean?"" asked Luke.

Valentine sat back in his chair. "Do you remember how much we enjoyed the story of Robin Hood?" replied Valentine.

Luke nodded. He did remember, but he chose to stay silent and let Valentine continue.

"It seemed so simple. The rich, the powerful are corrupt, so let us steal from them. Let us create our own band of Merry Men. I have since thought how the early days of the Circle resembled that, especially when Jocelyn – my own Maid Marian – and I moved into her family's estate. All of us together, far from the city. Robin Hood was so convinced he was correct he overlooked all consequences, and he did die in the end, because of his actions. At the time, that seemed noble, just.

"I was much like that. I believed the Clave was unjustly keeping the riches – the Cup – from the masses. That I could steal it and give it back. I too ignored all consequences – the casualties of the Uprising, the fallout for those who allied with me, the Mundanes who would not survive drinking from the Cup. I believed it was necessary though, to fight off the demons and their spawn.

"I said the world would be safer if they were all destroyed, that the potential of them causing harm – though to me at the time it was more than that, I believed they would inevitably cause harm - was justification enough for killing them. The reality was more complex. Grief over my father and fallen comrades who had been killed by Downworlders. Also, my own jealousy of them: their speed, strength, improved senses, immortality.

"They were all part demon one way or another, and we Nephilim were charged with hunting demons, or so I interpreted it, to rationalize my hatred. The demon blood would always taint Downworlders. Unless, of course, the one who had the demon blood was my child. How easily I changed my beliefs. He would be able to master the demon blood and use it to his advantage, do only good.

"I will tell you that was not true. Jonathan is challenging. He does not have any standard sense of right or wrong, and he absolutely has a lust for violence. When I saw he could not truly temper himself, I taught him to channel it in the most appropriate way I could think of; killing demons."

Valentine paused for a moment, seemingly to gather his thoughts. "Did I prove my point, you may be wondering? The demon blood did change him, but he is my son and I love him dearly. I have concluded that though danger exists, each individual still has a right to make his or her own choices. To judge that one will do harm before one has actually done so and then punish for that – is a choice that is not mine to make. I can see the divine in my son, with the demon blood. The human and the angelic that I chose not to see in Downworlders before, I see it now."

Luke was suspicious. This was so different from the last times he had spoken with Valentine. This is what he had hoped Valentine would someday believe, back before Luke had been changed, when he and Jocelyn had tried to temper his hatred.

"You truly mean that? Mean all of this?" asked Luke.

"I do."

Valentine was calm as he was saying all this. Luke didn't have the feeling he was trying to convince him of anything. Luke had seen Valentine's powers of persuasion many times in Idris. He would often take positions in debates that he himself didn't believe, to test his abilities, and he was still able to get the last word in. Only afterward would he confide to Luke he didn't believe any of it. Luke eventually learned to tell the difference between his rhetoric versus his true beliefs. Valentine would appear somewhat amused when he was faking it, he was serious when he was not. To the best of his abilities, he believed Valentine was sincere.

There was another question Luke had wanted to ask Valentine, one he had wondered about for many years. "Did you turn me on purpose? Jocelyn suspected you had, to get me out of the way, after she had confided her fears about the baby to me."

Valentine looked briefly puzzled. "Did I pay the werewolves to turn you? I did not."

There were precedents for that; Shadowhunters hiring werewolves and vampires to turn someone they had a grudge against. That was not what he had meant, but now that he was asking Valentine, this theory seemed less plausible. If Valentine had wanted him out of the way, he would be out of the way. Still, he asked. "No, did you hear about the werewolf pack location, and hope I would be turned or killed during the raid?"

Valentine paused. Luke had the feeling he was studying him, though he didn't know what he could be looking for.

"You have thought that all these years? No, I was not hoping that would happen, though I can see why Jocelyn suspected me. My actions were becoming more and more tyrannical. Yes, I was disturbed by Jocelyn's doubts in me, that she confided in you first. I knew you were both trying to pacify me. That disturbed me as well, but I believed you would both eventually side with me.

"I actually hoped we could bridge the gap that night, going on the raid together. You would see the threat the Downworlders posed, see the pack that had killed my father, and we would see eye to eye, but as I said, I was disturbed. This next piece is truly contemptible.

"My vendetta against Downworlders, taking the Cup, even the demon blood administered to Jonathan and Jocelyn – I truly believed I was right at the time I did those things. It was only later I would come to see the error of my ways.

"That night you were bit, Lucian, I knew right then I had made an error. I took us into battle knowing there was distance between us. I was careless, and I did not look out for you as Nephilim should, much less as parabatai should. I was more focused on my other plans; I thought this mission could be a quick fix to my problems with you, even a quick fix to my grief about my father. At the very least a satisfying strike against werewolves.

"As I said, I knew I was at fault, but I did not want to face it. You becoming something I hated, in part because of my negligence. I had broken my vow to you. Even with the experiment during Jocelyn's pregnancy, I didn't see that at the time as a failure of my marriage vows. I thought I was being a good father, and in turn a good husband, by making our child strong.

"I wanted the problem to disappear. By giving you my family blade and telling you to dispose of yourself – though I told you it was to protect your own honor – I would get rid of any reminder of my wrongdoing and continue on with my mission. I would not have to question my belief that all Downworlders should be destroyed. In fact, it only added to my rightousness; now Downworlders had taken my parabatai."

Luke had been listening with a growing sense of unease. He did believe Valentine, what he was saying now, but now he had to change his history to accommodate these new truths. Though he had not enjoyed believing Valentine had betrayed him, by turning him that night, he had been able to find some purpose from it. It had given him the motivation to work against and eventually fight Valentine at the Accords that night in Idris.

To find out that Luke's being turned was the problem, and that was a problem only because it got in the way of Valentine's beliefs about himself and the world, that was a shock. That that was enough to give Luke the blade, the same blade that Luke had at this moment pressing up against his back. That betrayal hurt so much more.

Luke had the quick thought he would have preferred not to know. He then thought about Jocelyn's choice to lie to Clary, or as she said to spare her the truth. He had always been against it, but now he felt he may have reached the limit of how much truth he wanted, and he could empathize more, why Jocelyn did what she did. Did knowing this help him?

Luke was interrupted from that line of thought by a full body shudder. His focus grew very narrow. It had been a long time since he had last involuntarily started to change, but it was happening now. His eyesight sharpened, his fingers were lengthening. He tried and failed to return to his human body. He spared a glance at Valentine, who was alert but not aggressive.

"It would be best if you go now." said Luke, slightly garbled because his teeth had started morphing, as he rose from the table, and nodded towards his back door.

"Understood." said Valentine succinctly, as he swiftly rose and walked away from the table and out the door.

After Luke heard the door latch, he took off the Morgenstern blade and left it on the kitchen table. He then went to the door Valentine had just left from, locked it, quickly made his way to the basement door and descended the stairs. He continued to the room he used for his transformations, hitting the timer switch that would lock the door for a preset time and then locking himself in. He had manacles in here and he was able to to get one around his right ankle before he felt another full body jolt, and then he lost awareness.