Chapter One: A Night to Remember

The gag in Clary's mouth tasted like hate, degradation, and…fear. She wriggled around on the sandy bank, eyes never straying from the man at the lake shore. The monster that was minutes away from destroying everything they'd worked so hard to stop. Valentine. Her father.

He was muttering strange words, dipping the blood-tipped sword into Lake Lyn. Clary watched in horror as the reflective water in the lake began to bubble and froth. Valentine was chanting then, ordering something into existence that shouldn't have been there. The air was tinged with power, the sky was churning, vomit threatened to inch up Clary's throat. She tossed and turned, trying to break the bonds on her hands and legs, but it was utterly hopeless.

In the distance, on the other side of the lake, miles away, the glow of a fierce battle was painting the dark sky a bloody red. Clary's stomach fell out when she realized that her mother was down there, Luke was there, the Lightwoods, Simon, everyone she cared for. All down there, neck deep in demon muck and blood…and it was all for nothing.

At least, she thought, trying to cling to some desperate hope, Jace isn't down there.

In the back of her mind, a cruel voice told her she shouldn't hope for anything like that. Valentine's taunting had given her one answer. Jace was with Jonathan, and that wasn't any better. Jonathan hated Jace, despised Jace, wanted him to die a slow terrible death. And she knew better than to hope that Jace could kill Jonathan; she remembered the way he fought.

A tear slithered down her cheek, then another and another.

Please, Jonathan, don't kill him! Clary begged silently. She'd just gotten Jace back, just learned she could keep him, and now she was going to lose him. Bring him back to Valentine, take him prisoner, just don't kill him!

When she looked up again, Clary saw Valentine throw the sword into the lake, and Lake Lyn exploded into a ferocious storm. She knew what was coming seconds before the eerie light rose from the angry depths. She felt the surge of power and the descending of ultimate energy. An angel. Raziel.

Clary had to look away from the light, but when she looked back, the angel was hovering before Valentine, speaking, and Clary was ashamed because all she could think of was Jace. Clary forced herself back to Valentine and Raziel, and she saw Valentine was making gestures with is hands, pointing to the binding circle around the angel. Raziel, the glorious angel, narrowed his golden eyes but nodded in consent.

No, no! Clary thought desperately. Don't give him what he wants, Raziel. Don't let him enslave your people. Help us fight him. For single moment, the angel seemed to hear her pleas and looked to Clary, but she knew already that it was pointless to fight anymore.

Valentine bowed his head as Raziel began to glow with a golden light. There was a burst of light so powerful it burned, and Clary felt a tingle in her wrist and at her throat where Valentine had Marked her. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Something else inside her crumpled, though. Clary felt a cold, unstoppable will pressing her down, bending her to its command. She couldn't fight it, and she slipped into a grey area between dreams and consciousness.

When Clary came back to her proper senses, Valentine was alone on the lake shore. He was laughing, marveling at his own hands, praising the angel. He turned back and gazed around him like a king assessing his land. For a few minutes, he simply looked, wondering at what was now his. And then his dark eyes fell on Clary.

"Ah, dear daughter," he said with a sickly smile. "What do you think of your father now?" Clary lashed out with all her will, and was disgusted when Valentine only laughed at her display. "Come now, answer me fully." He knelt and ran a hand over the mark on her throat. Clary shivered when she felt his fingers touch her, untie the gag, and then gently tub her sore neck. "Speak."

The order sent a shudder up her spine. She clenched her teeth, fighting with all her strength, but something stronger was holding her in check. "You bastard!" Valentine didn't even flinch. "I hope you burn in hell."

"Clarissa, I am your father, and I expect to be treated with that respect." He inspected her, shaking his head sadly. "I'm afraid I will have to begin your training immediately if I have any hope of making a proper shadowhunter out of you."

"I'll never listen to you-"

"Of course you will, Clary. You don't have that choice anymore." Valentine ran a hand through her hair lovingly. The touch made Clary want to vomit again. "From now on, I'd like you to call me Father, Clarissa."

"And I'd like you to drown in the lake over there, but neither of us seems to be getting our wish today, do they?" she snapped, well aware it could be her last words.

Valentine pondered this for a moment, and then his face lost all traces of enjoyment. "You are bound by the angel to do my will, but I'll see to it that you never disobey me again, Clarissa."

"Never."

"Then I'll kill Jace, and I'll make you watch."

Valentine was quite pleased to see Clary's mouth snap shut at that. Her eyes widened until Valentine thought they might pop out of her head. He smiled victoriously when he saw the tears unveiled in her green eyes. He stood and stretched his long legs, staring back into the distance where the fight was still underway.

"I have very little patience left for you, Clarissa. I will not let it be known that my own daughter would disobey me, and so you have forced my hand." His face was emotionless, devoid of thought or care for the boy he'd once called his son. "You will do as I say, or I'll kill him the moment he gets here. And let everyone know whose fault it is that Jace is dead."

Clary struggled for a little while with the anger and desperation bubbling inside her, but she already knew what choice she was going to make. Clary dipped her head so Valentine wouldn't see the last of her tears fall, and then she faced him, biting her lips and trying so hard not to scream. He towered above Clary, waiting for the words that would condemn her.

"Don't hurt him," murmured Clary, keeping her eyes locked on Valentine's.

Her father shook his head sadly. "I don't take orders from children, Clary."

"Please," Clary emphasized the word, "don't hurt him."

Still, Valentine just stared and pressed his lips together. When Clary didn't continue, he sighed loudly and tapped his foot in the sand. "Please don't hurt him what?"

Bastard, sadistic bastard. "Please, don't hurt him, Father."

With a satisfied nod of the head, Valentine turned from her, speaking conversationally. "It's not that I enjoy this, Clarissa, but I need you to respect me. You can ask Jace what it's like…that is, if Jace lives long enough." He caught her eye over his shoulder. "That all depends on you. So, do you want Jace to live?"

Clary couldn't speak any more. The very thought of losing Jace, of not seeing his devilish smile, those golden eyes, hearing his warm voice, was too much for her to bear. Her throat constricted and tightened until Clary thought she might not be able to breathe. She tried to form words, but nothing came out of her mouth but gasps.

In the end, Clary just nodded and tried to rasp the word yes.

"Excellent. I have no intention of Marking my own child with an obedience rune. Just understand that Jace's life is your responsibility." Before Clary could find her voice to answer, Valentine vanished into the bushes on the shore. He returned with a horse, whinnying and stomping the sand. "Once Jonathan arrives, we will head to Brocelind for your mother, and, of course, to spare those shadowhunters who would join me."

"Does-does Jonathan have Jace?" Clary couldn't keep fear out of her voice.

Valentine checked his pack on the horse and chuckled. "I certainly hope so, or else the boy got away, and I dearly wish to speak with my stepson. There is so much to explain."

"Don't call him that!" snarled Clary.

"Boy?"

"Stepson," growled Clary. "Don't call Jace your stepson."

"Why? He is." He laughed louder than before. "Oh that! Don't worry about that, Clarissa, it's not an incestuous disgrace, your feelings. Jace isn't your brother; you're free to…moon after him."

"I'm not mooning after him-"

"I think you are, and that's all you're going to do until I say otherwise. I told you I wanted more of a say in the company you keep." He patted the horse's nose and looked into the distance behind the trees.

"And you have a problem with Jace?"

"I didn't say that, Clarissa." He brought the horse nearer and then heaved her to her feet. "Maybe I think Jace has a reputation."

Clary struggled wildly, tossing her red hair around until Valentine released her. She stumbled back into the horse, which reared back. Clary panicked and dropped to the ground, dodging the horse's hooves. Above her, Valentine was calming the horse, whispering to it, holding it back from stomping his daughter to death.

"Will you do as you're told, for once?" he bellowed, and then took a hank of her hair and tugged until she stood before him.

"You're hurting me!" cried Clary. "Stop!"

"Good," Valentine snorted. He jerked her hair again, driving the point home. "Up on the horse, dear."

Valentine shoved her back against the horse, then lifted her swiftly onto it. Clary was just settled on the saddle when her father swung himself up behind her, wrapping both his arms around her and gripped the reins. He pulled the horse around, and Clary leaned as far over the saddle as she could, hating the feel of her father behind her.

"Lean the way I lean," he ordered. Clary threw herself away from her father, trying to unseat herself. Better on the ground hurt, than with the monster behind her. "I said, lean the way-"

"Clarissa has absolutely no idea how to ride a horse, Father."

Clary spun in the saddle and pushed against her father's chest. He grunted when her slight form cut him in half, and cursed when she overbalanced and started to fall. He scooped his arm under her waist and pulled her back into the saddle. Clary punched him as hard as she could in his belly and lunged for the ground.

"Clarissa!" bellowed Valentine. His hand snaked out and slithered around her throat, cutting off her air. "Do you remember what I told you?"

"What did you do to Jace?" gasped Clary between little puffs of air. Valentine tightened his grip and Clary couldn't breathe.

"Where is Jace, Jonathan?" Her father's eyes scanned Jonathan's horse, alighting on a lump on the back of the saddle.

Jonathan's dark eyes flashed angrily at the name. His lips curled and his hands tightened on the reins. "Jace," he spat the name, "took a little fall."

"No!" cried Clary, ripping her father's hand away. He's not dead, he can't be dead. For the love of god, not Jace.

"Silence!" ordered Valentine, and he pulled his horse up with Jonathan's. "You didn't kill him, Jonathan?"

"No, Father," answered Jonathan at once, smirking at Clary. He readjusted his seating to reveal a lifeless corpse, tossed carelessly over the back of the saddle. Clary spotted the familiar golden hair, now stained with blood. She saw his hands bound with thick rope and tight knots. A cloth gag shoved so deep in his mouth that Clary was surprised he hadn't choked on it.

"Satisfied, little Clary?" asked Valentine, twisting his fingers in Jace's blond hair and pulling up on it. His face, streaked with sweat and blood, stared back at Clary. She nodded shortly, and was horrified to see Jonathan grinning widely at Jace's limp body.

"You're not going to struggle anymore, are you?" Valentine took Clary's chin in his hands and forced her to look at him. "Not even when we get to Brocelind?"

"I hate you," she hissed between her clenched teeth.

Valentine seemed to consider this and his fingers squeezed her chin, threatening to break her jaw. "Jonathan," he said suddenly, never looking away from Clary's face, "we need to teach your sister a lesson. Cut off Jace's ear."

"Stop, please, no!" Clary broke free of Valentine's grip. "No, don't do it! I won't fight, I promise."

Jonathan had a knife in hand, and he placed it gently against the back of Jace's ear. He pressed down and started to saw back and forth. When Clary saw a trickle of blood gush down the side of his face, she grabbed her father's hand and squeezed it until he had to look at her.

"F-father, please, I won't speak, I won't fight." Valentine held up a hand and Jonathan paused, fingers twitching to get back to chopping off his stepbrother's ear. "I'll be…good."

"Why do I doubt that?" laughed Valentine, but he shook his head and Jonathan regretfully put his knife away. "I'll hold you to those words, Clarissa. One toe out of line, one breath, and Jonathan will finish the job. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Clary took a long moment to stare at Jace. She'd never seen him look so helpless, and it scared her. Jace was always supposed to be in charge of things, no one ever got the better of him, but Jonathan had. And so it stood to reason, in Clary's mind, that her entire world was upside down. She couldn't comprehend anything, couldn't understand what was being said and done to her.

"Yes, Father."

After that, Valentine forced Clary to sit straight in the saddle, holding her against him. The world seemed to fade in and out of focus, and Clary was aware only of the malignant shadow behind her. She would try to twist around once in a while to see Jace, but Valentine refused her even that luxury.

The darkness finally ended when they broke cover and emerged on Brocelind Plain. Clary couldn't help but withdraw into her father when the sight met her eyes. Valentine offered no warmth or protection, but he didn't push her away either, just accepted her presence and urged the horse onward.

Seated a few feet in the air didn't help Clary when she saw the piles of rotting bodies, both shadowhunter and Downworlder. A fetid smell rose, threatening to gag her, and flies already swarmed the bodies. Spread far and wide across the plains was crackling fires. Their flickering lights casts shivering shadows on the already dark land. Clary didn't make a sound, though every part of her wanted to cry out, whimper, weep. She forced herself to keep looking, bear it without emotion…until she saw the pools of warm blood.

Like tiny rivulets, blood surged across the plain, and dark, smoky figures were there, nursing at its banks.

A scream was ripped from Clary's throat, and she started to thrash wildly in the saddle. That blood could be Alec's, or Luke's, or Simon's, or even her mother's. What if it was? What if one of them had died. What if they'd all died? She wouldn't be alone in this, she wouldn't spend the rest of her life facing Valentine alone. She needed them alive to help her.

She was still screaming when a hand clamped down on her mouth. "Silent mourning; these men and women had their chance." It was only that order that got across. If she didn't stop, Jace would be mutilated, killed. "Don't fear, many survived."

And many had. They crested a hill, and trapped in a small valley was the army of shadowhunters and Downworlders. None of them were fighting, though the Downworlders growled or snarled occasionally. The shadowhunters, Clary saw, were slumped weakly on the ground, struggling for air. Valentine nudged the horse forward until they were before the ground.

He didn't say a word, just dropped from the saddle with a command for Clary to stay there, and then swerved though the crowd. It was deathly silent as he went, the night air pressing down on them all. Clary could hear her heart beat irregularly, could hear Jonathan growl, and Jace breath.

Valentine broke through the crowd, carrying a withering Jocelyn. She struggled weakly with her husband, but couldn't fight him off when he forced something down her throat. Clary wanted so bad just to jump off the horse and run to her mother's arms, but she just couldn't make her legs work.

And then, the world split open. Jace coughed and came to life with a sputter, Maryse and Robert came darting forward, screaming his name, the demons roared and sprang at the shadowhunters, Downworlders and shadowhunters broke into cries of defeat and fear, and Valentine was bellowing orders.

The sky cracked…the stars twirled and fell…and Clary was screaming…

"Jace!" her voice was hoarse from disuse. "Jace!"

"Jace isn't here right now," drawled a silky voice. "But I can help you, little sister. Let me chase aware the nightmares."

Jonathan swooped down on Clary's bed, one hand clapping over her mouth. She didn't even struggle with him then. A month of fighting him off had taught her one thing: he was stronger. She stopped screaming, wishing her cries would have carried to the subject of her screams. Instead, they were trapped in her bedroom, locked behind the closed door, echoing in all of Idris but in Jace's cell.

"It was only a nightmare," cooed Jonathan, tugging on her hair with a wicked glint in his eye.

No, Clary thought weakly as she pushed her brother away and he struck her. The nightmare's just begun.