"There are worse things than dying," he said. "And I will do them all to you, little sister, once you've drunk from the Cup.And you will like it."

-City of Lost Souls-

WARNING: Shits gunna get a little dark from here on in. I'd like to take this moment, since people sometimes like to be sensitive and easily offended, that I am in no way saying Clabastion/Clonathan are #RealtionshipGoals. Jonathan is a psychopath. His dad tortured him, his life was not super fun or full of love. Let's remember that when he couldn't kill Isabelle in the book he instead murdered the absolute fuck out of tiny, little Max, and then was like, pfft. Kids are gross. Who cares? He is not a good person.

That being said I'm still going to write this shameless, smutty incest story to my black, little heart's content. So take that as you will, and if you're down for the ride, then let's fuckin' GO!

Clary awoke to a dull thud beside her head. Her eyes sprung open, focusing slowly on the room around her. Dingy, stained walls, a ratty, brown carpeted floor. The room looked like a cheap apartment. There was little in the way of furniture, only a wooden coffee table and a torn blue couch pushed back against the wall. Her eyes focused quickly on the silver haired man perched on the armrest, black eyes fixed on her. Jonathan did not looked pleased. His expression was empty as he gazed steadily back at her, carefully concealed. One boot was propped on the edge of the table, and in his hand he was flipping a small throwing knife up into the air.

Clary tried to step away from the wall she was leaning against, but realized all too quickly that wouldn't be happening while her hands were cuffed together above her. It looked like he had pinned them to a stud in the wall with a screwdriver, driven deep into the wood between one of the handcuffs chain links. She tugged at the cuffs but the screwdriver didn't budge. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked next at the handle of a throwing knife, embedded into the wall beside her head. The one that had just woken her up. Eyes wide, she turned back to the demon watching her silently, just in time to see another knife hurdle through the air and peirce into the wall on her other side. This one was closer, only a couple inches away from her hip.

"What are you doing!" She hissed out, clenching her fists as Jonathan slid another blade from the strap across his chest and tossed it casually into the air.

"Hello sleeping beauty." The demon tilted his head slightly to the side, watching her shift uncomfortably between the two knives as he caught the third in the air. His voice was flat and cold, void of its usual mocking lilt. "I got tired of waiting. You owe me answers."

Clary yelped when he threw the next knife, letting it sail across the room and sink into the loose fabric of her teeshirt. She shifted to tear it free, but the blade was too deep in the wall. When she glared back up at Jonathan, he was freeing another knife, his face still blank and utterly calm. She didn't trust it. Somehow, the emptiness of his expression was more frightening then any fury she had expected.

"You nearly put that in my stomach!" She snapped, wishing her anger was enough to cover the slight waver in her voice. Jonathan simply lifted an eyebrow.

"Did I?" Another dagger shot toward her with a dull thud, sinking into the wall beside her left arm close enough to slice her just above the elbow. The warmth of her blood tickled down the side of her neck as it trailed lazily down from her arm.

"Stop!" Clary shouted. Fear was winning within the choas of her emotions. His aim was frighteningly accurate, and he was getting closer each time. The way he was watching her, pitiless, left no doubt that he would actually hit her. Jonathan sighed and withdrew another blade, tapping it idly against his bent knee. His black eyes narrowed slightly as he stared into her eyes from across the small room.

"Where did you hide the invalid Clarissa?"

Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she pressed her lips tightly together, refusing to answer. Jonathan flipped the knife in his hand, his black eyes moving around her in search of his next target.

"In the state I left her in, she couldn't have gotten anywhere on her own. We've searched the entire city, and the warehouse district where I found you, but Isabelle isn't there, so..." He caught the blade again and raised it slightly for his next throw. "Where did you hide her away?"

Clary scoffed this time, fixing him with a hateful glare. The short chain of her handcuffs clinked lightly against the screwdriver as she leaned forward and smirked.

"You're never going to see her again you fucking-" Her resentful growl was interrupted by a sharp scream when she felt the next dagger sink into her left thigh. Clary jerked back against the wall, snapping her head back into the plaster painfully, but that was nothing compared to the fiery pain that shot through her leg.

"And why is that?" Jonathan stood slowly, stepping around the coffee table to move steadily toward her. His face was still blank. There was no trace of guilt or regret for what he'd just done. As she gasped harshly and tried to breathe through the pain, Jonathan came to a stop just in front of her. Clary shrieked when he grabbed the handle of the knife and lifted it slightly, cutting deeper into her thigh.

"Clary," he spoke over her frightened panting in the same heartless, flat tone as before. "You are going to tell me where to find her before we leave this room." He shifted the knife again, watching her passively as she bit down against her next scream, shaking her head.

"I..c-can't."

His mouth turned down slightly in a frown, eyes narrowing again. The blade twisted into the meat of her thigh, tearing into muscle. Pain made her vision go white for just a moment before she sucked in an agonized sob, tugging frantically at her handcuffs. He didn't care how much he was hurting her. She could tell by his empty expression that he wasn't going to stop before he got what he wanted. Be it fury at her running away, or a cold determination to follow their father's wishes, the demon was not in a mood to show her mercy. Not even his obsession over her would keep her safe. Clary blinked away the tears brimming in her eyes and swallowed passed the lump in her throat to speak. Jonathan simply inclined his head to watch her expectantly.

"She...she's gone. They must have taken her."

"The rebels?" He asked softly. When she didn't respond he twisted the knife again and watched her scream with a empty stare. His patience was nonexistent. Clary gave a jerky nod, turning her head away as she sobbed out a shaky yes. He forced her to look back at him by grabbing her jaw. His fingers dug uncomfortably into her skin, nails biting the flesh, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing pain in her thigh. That was fire down to her bone, liquid magma bleeding out into her leg.

"Why would they take her, and leave you?"

"Too d-dangerous," she gasped harshly. Jonathan clicked his tongue in disbelief.

"Your idiot friends would never leave you behind." The blade twisted again and her knees gave out, leaving her to dangle from the metal cuffs above her. They cut into her wrists, but she was too distracted by the pain in her leg to care. Jonathan leaned in closer, his warm breath spilling over her face as his voice dropped down into a threatening octave.

"Lie to me again and I will make sure you never walk the same, do you understand? Where did you hide Isabelle Lightwood?"

"No..." she shook her head with what little motion she could with him holding her jaw so tightly. Her words were a breathless pant, her teeth clenched in pain. "N-not...a lie! They...they must have taken her."

"Then why are you still here?" He growled, finally breaking the cold, even tone to show some of the simmering fury behind his black eyes. She screamed when the knife twisted again, squeezing her eyes closed.

"Because they don't trust me anymore!" She shouted the words, chest clenching in misery. For just a moment the pain in her leg was forgotten for the cold stab in her heart. She hated to admit it to him, hated that it hurt so much to even think about. Clary had been truly abandoned, just as Jonathan had promised, as Valentine taunted. They both knew she clung to the hope that she would escape one day and return to her friends. She wanted nothing more than to return to her real family, but it was too late. She was the enemy now. How had her life taken such a crippling turn?

The demon blinked. The surprise on his face lasted only a moment before it was replaced with a blaze of anger. She shrieked when he wrenched the knife from her thigh, flinching when he stabbed it into the wall just beside her cheek.

"Bullshit," he seethed. She found herself truly terrified of those heartless, black eyes, of the true fury directed at her. She had made him angry in the past sure, but this was something else. This was the monster the other Shadowhunters feared, the beast that downworlders whispered about in dark corners as a bogeyman, the Morning Star. She'd never been subjected to this part of him, and she realized all too suddenly just how privileged she'd been to avoid it thus far. It was hard to meet his eyes, harder still to hold them. She found her fear twisting back around into anger the longer she stared back at him. Anger for making her feel so small, for hurting her without conscious, and finally for taking away the last shred of hope she had clung to for escape.

"You did it," she growled back. All her misery and hatred spilled out into her tone. "You won, you fucking monster. You convinced them I'm with Valentine by choice. They think I drank from the cup, or that I'm one of his loyal puppets. They wouldn't save Izzy unless I agreed to stay away."

"Bullshit," he repeated, but there was doubt in his eyes now. Clary tugged at her captured wrists in frustration. It would have been so satisfying to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze, but the damn things wouldn't budge.

"Why else would I have stayed behind? You know I wouldn't have abandoned Izzy. I only gave them time to save her, but I'm not welcome with them anymore. Thanks to you and Valentine, they don't trust me."

For a long moment, Jonathan was still and quiet. He stared back at her, searching her eyes for a hint of a lie, but he was too good at reading her. He saw the truth in her hateful glare and suddenly the grim line of his mouth split into a mocking grin. The demon took a step back and laughter broke the otherwise silence. Her stomach clenched in fiery anger but she managed to bite back her response. Jonathan ran a hand back through his silvery hair and shook his head.

"They abandoned you? Honestly? Even after you saved Isabelle? The precious Clary Fairchild is left to the wolves." His voice broke into mocking laughter. "Those cheeky bastards. I didn't think they had that kind of cruelty in them. I've been ready to peel your skin off like an apple, but now...you have boosted my mood considerably."

"Glad to see you're delighting in my misery," she snapped back. The demon just chuckled and leaned back in to search her tear stained face.

"What did you expect Clary?" He released her jaw to plant his hand against the wall beside her, caging her in his arms. It brought them close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body spilling over to hers. Honestly she hadn't realized she'd gotten so cold until he was too close. Maybe she was going into shock. Her thigh still throbbed with pain and she could feel the blood soaking into her pant leg. She was shaking and sweating against the wall, doing her best to keep weight off her injured leg while pressing herself back into the wall.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've put me through in the last few days? How many downworlders I had to put down searching for you? Hell, how many incompetent Shadowhunters? Our father is furious. You have to know he'll demand I hurt you when we return." Jonathan tilted his head to the side, brushing his lips against her cheek in a kiss before she jerked away from him in disgust. "I've been struggling to figure out how I'll do it. Every hour that passed when you ran, I came up with a new idea. I've hurt you in my head so many times now I've lost count. Now you're telling me your precious friends have been torturing you for me? What is it, my birthday?"

"Fuck you Jonathan."

"You have. More than once. What would your old friends think of that?" He tilted his head to catch her eyes again when she refused to look at him. She didn't want to think about the look on Izzy's face, the pity. "Is that why you ran away from me?"

Clary grit her teeth and growled back. "I ran away to save Izzy. I couldn't leave her to die with either of you monsters."

"And did you decide to save her before or after I fucked you against your bedroom wall?"

Her chest tightened, face going hot with rage. She tried to kick him with her good leg, but Jonathan shifted out of the way and grabbed her thigh, squeezing down around the wound. Clary yelped, arching her back in pain and slamming back against the wall as if she could break through it and escape him.

"See, I think you ran away because you didn't want to admit what we both know to be true." His fingers slid up around her throat when she tried to look away again, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "There is something between us. I can make you cum, and you hate yourself for that, don't you?"

"You're sick," she hissed up at him but it only made him chuckle.

"You're right there with me, Clary. Why can't you just admit it?"

"Because it isn't true!" Fresh tears were blurring her vision, but she couldn't be sure if they were from the pain he'd just caused her, or the cold fear settling deep in her chest. Fear she didn't want to put a name to. Couldn't even begin to think about. Fear that he was right.

Jonathan brushed away the wayward red curls that had fallen across her face, leaning closer to speak softly into her ear.

"Should I prove you wrong again?" The fingers around her throat trailed down her dirty teeshirt to hook into the front of her jeans. When she jerked back, she just hit the wall again. She couldn't move to the sides because the knives around her formed a cage of metal. There was nowhere to escape as he popped the button of her jeans loose and nipped at her throat. "How quickly do you think I can make you cum for me?"

"Stop," her voice was breathless. "Stop it Jonathan!"

"You fled our home, released a valuable prisoner, and made me chase you across New York for days. Tormenting you is the least of your punishments." Her zipper went down with a tug and his hand slipped down the front of her pants to cup her over her panties. Clary bit down on her lip as he pulled back to search her face with a small smile.

"Look how red you are. You don't have to be so embarrassed." He smirked at the tiny sound she made when he started to stroke her through the cotton. "You're stuck with us now, Clary. Your little friends have written you off, but I won't. Why make it so hard on yourself? Just tell me what you'd like me to do to you."

"I want you to stop."

He scoffed circling her clit with a fingertip. It made her jump, fight to push herself onto her toes to escape him until the pain in her leg sent her slumping back down.

"You know I can always tell when you're lying. Just admit you want me too. Admit that it's the reason you ran away."

"Fuck you Jonathan."

"Would you like to?" He grinned and his finger slipped beaneath the cotton, pushing inside of her. "Right against this wall? You liked it so much the last time."

"No! I...god damnit Jonathan, why are you doing this to me?" Her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. She didn't want him to see the tears streaming down her face, nor the flush in her cheeks. She tried again to shift away from him, but the pain in her leg made her knees weak and she had nowhere to go. How the hell had they even gotten here? Moments ago he was using her for target practice. How could his mood shift so quickly? "Aren't you angry?"

He chuckled into her hair. "Of course I am. You tried to run from me. The thing is, I enjoy torturing you with more than pain. You are so ashamed of this thing between us, so of course I'll exploit that shame. If nothing else, I'll remind you that you're mine, and that you can not run from me."

Another finger slipped inside of her and she bit down on his shoulder when he began to slowly pump them in and out.

"It won't happen again, will it?"

When she didn't respond, his free hand tangled in her hair and forced it back. His black eyes searched her own, his smile once again lost to a cold, empty stare.

"Will it?"

"No," Clary breathed in defeat, blinking away more tears. Warmth tingled pointedly in her abdomen as he teased her clit, wicked and traitorous. She wanted to hide her face again, but Jonathan's fingers tightened in her hair when she tried.

"Say it again."

Her breath came out on a shudder, her eyes falling closed. "I won't run away."

"Where would you run to now anyway? Poor, abandoned angel."

She was about to respond when a loud knock brought both of their attention to the door. Jonathan sighed, pulling his hand from her pants and glancing briefly at the slickness coating his fingers. When she looked away, he snickered softly, pushing them into her mouth.

"Come in," he called, frowning when she bit down on the digits and narrowed her eyes. He withdrew them quickly, but didn't move away from her even when the door swung open and a young woman stepped inside. Panic made Clary's heart pound as the woman paused just inside the door, taking in their intimate positions. She cleared her throat when Jonathan continued to watch Clary, clearly enjoying her humiliation.

The woman was vaguely familiar, but she wasn't a Shadowhunter. She was tall and slender, with skin the color of caramel and bright, unnaturally green eyes, the color of antifreeze. When she crossed her arms over her chest, her skin seemed to shimmer under the light as if she'd been brushed in gold. This was a witch, and worse, she didn't seem entirely shocked by the scene she'd just walked in on, which made Clary's stomach turn.

"Having fun?" She arched an eyebrow as Jonathan finally stepped away grinning.

"Jealous?" He asked, making Clary suck in a quick, distressed breath. The witch scoffed, her eyes sliding to Clary and the knives embedded around her, lowering briefly to the open zipper of her jeans. At that moment, Clary would have loved for the floor to open up and swallow her. What the hell was he playing at? He had murdered three of their family's servants when one had spotted him touching her. What had changed? Who the hell was this woman?

"I'm not into knife play," the witch sighed dismissively, nodding toward Clary's leg. "She's bleeding."

"Observant," Jonathan replied, just as casually. Clary watched him move to the couch across the room, dropping down into the cushions with a sigh. He patted his thigh in invitation but the witch leaned back against the armrest instead. With a soft laugh, Jonathan snaked an arm around her waist to tug her down across his lap. Against her better sense, Clary felt the slightest twinge in her chest at the sight.

"I take it you haven't found the cripple yet?"

The witch frowned, trailing a finger along the collar of his black shirt. "It's unlikely we will. Valentine sent word that a portal had been opened near the place you found that one." She nodded at Clary then went back to playing with his shirt. "The rebels must have a powerful witch on their side. Someone who knows secrets not even Magnus was privy to. They managed to hide the destination of the portal. We can't track them any further. In all likelihood, Isabelle Lightwood has escaped."

"Annoying." Jonathan scowled, looking down at the floor in thought until Clary let slip a small laugh. His black eyes cut back up to her, brow arched in question. "Something funny Clarissa?"

She shrugged as best she could with her arms above her. "I told you you wouldn't find her."

"I still have more throwing knives," he threated softly, but there was no real anger in his voice. His rage had dissipated once he'd learned she was rejected by her friends.

"Great. I can bleed to death quicker then."

"I think she's mad at you." The witch smirked behind her slender fingers. Her unnatural green eyes moved pointedly to Clary's open jeans before returning to her face. "Or maybe it's just frustration."

"Who the hell are you?" Clary snapped, feeling that same shameful twist in her gut. Why was the witch so calm about this? Why did Jonathan allow her to know when he'd been so careful before? Why did she seem so comfortable with it?

"This," Jonathan interjected with a pat against the witch's thigh. "Is Kesi. I met her on a job in Prague. She knew Valentine had sent me to kill her and tried to take me out first. Once I saw her talent however, I realized that would only be a waste. Turns out we have a lot in common, so we came to an arrangement. Her life for her service."

"You're one of the collared witches?" Clary frowned, but Kesi laughed and waved it away.

"Jonathan didn't have to magically subjugate me. I was happy enough with the sex."

Clary didn't know how to respond to that. She certainly didn't like the way Jonathan was watching her either. The self satisfied smirk made her face hot with anger, and she couldn't entirely understand why. It certainly wasn't jealousy, she told herself. That would have been disgusting. When it was clear she wouldn't be asking anymore questions, the demon bounced his witch on his knee.

"Speaking of service, did you bring everything we'll need?"

Kesi nodded tracing his mouth with the tip of her finger and giggling when he nipped at it. All in all the display was making Clary uncomfortable.

"It's all at the apartment."

"And you're strong enough to complete it?"

Kesi smiled darkly, and Clary was struck by just how much it reminded her of Jonathan's evil smile.

"Thanks to a pretty fairy boy. His sacrifice will give me the boost I need."

Jonathan grinned and stood up, lifting her into his arms as he did. Kesi giggled happily when he gave her a quick kiss and set her down. "You never disappoint. Remind me to reward you once we finish with Clary."

"What the hell does that mean?" Clary snapped. The pair of them ignored her at first. Kesi was busy whispering something into his ear that made Jonathan chuckle before his eyes slid back to Clary. She didn't like the look on his face. It was wickedly eager, and that couldn't mean anything good for her. The witch pressed something small and metallic into his palm, but Clary didn't get a good look before he'd tucked it into the pocket of his leather pants. He murmured something into her long, brown hair and smacked her ass lightly as she moved for the door. Kesi sauntered to the door with a giggle and a wave of her fingers. When he turned his attention back to Clary she scowled back at him as he crossed the room to her.

"Don't be jealous," he smiled as Kesi left the room. "She helps me pass the time when you're being too much of a brat."

Clary rolled her eyes. "I don't care who you fool around with, so long as it isn't me."

"Such a liar," he laughed softly and reached above her to grab the handle of the screwdriver pinning her to the wall. When he jerked it free, Clary felt a wash of relief. At least until the weight on her wounded leg caused her knees to buckle and she slumped down. Jonathan caught her easily, scooping her up into his arms.

"Take these stupid cuffs off."

"Not happening," he scoffed. "You're still in trouble."

"Ruining my leg wasn't enough?"

"Stop whining, I'll stitch you up when we get to the apartment."

Clary's chest tightened in a flash of fear. If he wasn't taking her back to Valentine then where the hell were they going? "You can't just kidnap me. Valentine will-"

"Valentine will get over it," he cut her off, pausing to dig into his pocket. "Cheering me up with your sad little abandonment story doesn't make up for running away. That will require begging, or at the very least, shameless fornication."

"That's not going to happen."

He glanced down at her with a smirk before he tossed the small metal coin Kesi had given him into the room in front of them. The hairs on the back of her neck rose with the charge of static in the air and a moment later a portal opened up in front of them. Clary heard someone shout outside the door, but as it opened Jonathan stepped through the portal and the room was swallowed in a swirl of light and color. Her stomach turned as they were pulled through space and it took her several moments to open her eyes when the world settled into place again.

She didn't recognize the dark living room they had portaled into. It was nicely furnished, spacious, and decorated much like the styles their father enjoyed. Dark woods and leather.

"Where are we?"

Jonathan smiled, walking her through a tall doorway and down a long hall. He kicked open a door to their left and carried her into the bathroom beyond, settling her against the marble counter.

"This is one of Valentine's little hideaways. It moves around so it's hard to find unless you know how to look, or you have a key."

"Won't he be able to find us then?" She couldn't help the hopeful note in her voice, but Jonathan was quick to squash it.

"Kesi is making sure that won't happen. She'll tell those idiots back at that rat trap that I have you. Valentine will be pissed, but even if he looks for us, he wont be getting through the wards Kesi has been throwing up over the last few days. They were created by powerful new friend."

She yelped when he reached out to tug her jeans down her thighs, hissing as the fabric peeled off of her wound. Jonathan sighed softly, inspecting the damage with a light prod. When she cursed and shoved at his shoulder, he smacked away her hand and grabbed her around the waist. She was lifted up onto the counter before he stripped away her jeans entirely and bent to open the cabinet beneath them, rooting around.

"Don't be a brat. It's not even that bad."

"You stabbed me, you asshole!"

He stood straight with a white basket filled with gauze and tools. A chuckle echoed in the large bathroom as he leaned over to the medicine cabinet beside them and pulled out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol.

"You pissed me off."

"How is that an excuse?" She demanded hotly, watching him rip open a small packet of sterilized cloth with his teeth. Jonathan shrugged and began cleaning away the blood on her arm before moving on to her thigh.

"You should know better by now."

"Screw you Jonathan," she snapped. "You're a sadist."

Clary let out an alarmed cry when his finger pushed briefly into her wound, forcing out more blood. His black eyes were on her face when she glared up at him, expression carefully blank.

"And you're response to that is to push my buttons. Maybe you're a masochist."

"I don't enjoy pain."

"Not yet," he smirked, unscrewing the cap to the alcohol. "I'll fix that."

"You sick fu-AGH!" Clary screamed as the alcohol spilled over her wound, burning like he'd just set her on fire. Her fingers clamped around the chain connecting her handcuffs so tightly her knuckles turned white. Jonathan watched this passively as he pulled a curved needle from the basket, giving her a moment to get herself under control. She watched him splash alcohol over it, then thread it with a long spool of black, wirey thread. When he moved to pierce it into the flesh of her thigh however, she jerked back against the mirror.

"Aren't you going to give me something for the pain?"

"Why would I do that?" He smirked. "You're in trouble, remember?"

"Jonathan wait-"

The needle princked into her torn flesh with a spike of hot pain. She jerked back again, knocking the basket into the sink beside her. The demon only sighed, glancing up at her through his silvery hair.

"Don't move. It won't take long."

That was easy for him to say but Clary had to put every ounce of restraint into keeping still as he stitched her thigh. He worked quickly, the stitches neat and tidy. Clearly he'd done this enough times to know what he was doing. She couldn't imagine he would bother helping one of his fellow Shadowhunters with such a task, so she had to wonder if he'd done it to himself. How many of Valentine's missions had ended in open wounds for Jonathan? She remembered the many scars that crisscrossed his arms and chest in the dungeon, but quickly pushed the thought away. Something close to pity swirled through her chest at the thought, and she didn't want to entertain it. Instead she bit her lip, trying to keep her breathing steady while he worked. One particularly rough stab of the needle sent her hands flying up to grip the black material of his shirt before his dark eyes shifted up to her and she released him again. He tied off the last stitch, snipping its end with a small pair of scissors and tossing them back into the basket.

"You're welcome," he said pointedly when it was done, bracing his arms on the counter around her legs. She narrowed her eyes, but begrudgingly thanked him. Jonathan nodded to a small bottle of brown liquid sitting beside the basket.

"Drink that. It will help you heal faster. Runes won't be enough."

Clary eyed the contents of the bottle suspiciously a moment before she picked it up. "What is it?"

"A present from a friend," he shrugged. When Clary only stared at him he sighed. "It won't hurt you Clary, so unless you'd like to keep your limp..."

"Fine." She popped the cork and tossed back the contents, almost immediately coughing at the bitter taste. The demon chuckled as she wiped her mouth and scowled in distaste.

"It's a bitch, but it works. Lil-" he cut himself off, pushing himself away the counter. "My friend knows what she's doing."

Clary watched him a moment frowning, but he didn't say more. She was sure he had almost spoken a name. It was strange for him to be so secretive, but she didn't push the subject. Instead she arched a brow.

"You have friends?"

Jonathan's black eyes cut up to her and he gave a short, dry laugh. "Hilarious." When he moved to scoop her off the counter, she instinctively pulled back against the mirror. The demon paused, watching her.

"We're going back to the living room. If I don't carry you, you'll have to put weight on that leg."

"Then I'll limp. Screw it."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, scooping her up into his arms anyway. "Don't be such a brat."

Clary cursed softly, wrapping her cuffed hands around his neck to keep herself upright. She didn't like him holding her, but if she was honest, she was grateful to spare her leg. They moved back down the dark hallway quickly and when he made it to the leather couch, he was careful to set her down without touching her leg. After the events in that shabby apartment, the odd show of kindness was a little jarring.

"Why did you bring me here?" She asked when the room sat in uncomfortable silence for too long. Jonathan busied himself with rifling through a small cabinet, pulling out a crystal tumbler and a bottle of something brown she could only assume was liquor. He glanced back at her as he poured himself a drink, closing the cabinet with a soft click.

"I want you alone for a while. Before Valentine decides to lock you up. I imagine he'll have a list of jobs for me to clean up your mess when we return."

Her gut twisted at the thought, her fingers tightening in the material of her shirt to pull it further down her waist.

"You're going to look for Izzy, aren't you?"

"You haven't given me much choice," he sighed, taking a sip of his bourbon and swirling the liquid around in the glass.

"Please...don't hurt her." Even as she said it, she knew it was a wasted sentiment. The look he gave her made that clear. If he ever managed to find Isabelle, the most likely outcome would be that he killed her. She didn't imagine he would do so quickly after she had run off. In fact, he might torture her to punish Clary. She could only hope that wherever the others had taken her, they would remain there safe and secluded.

Jonathan finished the contents of his tumbler, setting it down on top of the wooden cabinet. He cracked his neck, tugging at the strap that secured his knife belt across his chest, and lay that on the cabinet as well.

"You ask a lot of me, after what you've done."

"I had to save Izzy," Clary mumbled softly, looking down at the floor.

"Don't start that again. You didn't run away for Isabelle. She spent two days in our dungeon before you tried to escape. You didn't try to run until after the night we had sex again."

Her fingers closed into fists, and she glared down at the hardwood floor, unable to look at him. "Maybe I just wanted to get away from you."

"And maybe you wanted to get away from the feelings you have for me, because they frighten you."

"I do not-" Clary began to shout, but her voice trailed away when she looked up to find him right in front of her. When she met his dark stare she found herself shrinking back into the couch. Her eyes narrowed despite her unease. "You disgust me Jonathan."

"You mispronounced excite me."

"Is this the part where you molest me on this couch?" She grit the words out but he didn't rise to the bait. His expression remained placid and cold. She really hated that look.

"No Clarissa. This is the part where I make sure you can never run away from me again."

"By hobbling my other leg?" She snapped curtly only to watch him fight a soft smile.

"Not quite." She didn't like the sound of that, but before she could demand an explanation Kesi flounced into the living room from the kitchen holding a large duffel bag.

"When did you get here?" Clary asked confused. Jonathan shot the witch a smirk as she set the bag on the other end of the couch and shrugged a shoulder.

"While you were in the bathroom. Figured you two needed a moment." Her attention went pointedly to Jonathan and she rested a manicured hand on her hip. "Unfortunately I don't have much time to waste since I get to be the messenger to your dick dad. Can I reiterate how much I'm not fond of that part?"

Jonathan smirked, kissing her cheek as he passed her to grab the bag. "You'll be fine. Just tell him I forced you. He'll believe it."

"And when he asks where you've run off to?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Tell him you don't know."

"Just like that?" She scoffed. "Like he'll believe me?"

"Tell him I threatened you."

"But-" Kesi started to complain but was cut off when Jonathan's fingers whipped out to close around her throat. Her strange, green eyes widened as he pulled her close and fixed her with a heavy stare.

"If you'd like, I can give you some convincing bruises."

The witch shook her head, holding up her hands in surrender. "No, I...ok." She pulled in a trembling breath when he released her, stiffly adjusting the collar of her olive colored blouse. "I'll figure it out. Can we just get this over with?"

The demon nodded once, watching her move to the fireplace across the room. She whispered something into the small pit and blue flames erupted within it quickly after. Jonathan moved beside her, opening the bag and handing her a long metal staff with a strange symbol welded at its farthest end. Kesi thanked him softly and stuck the end with the symbol into the fire, resting the staff against the grate. It took a few moments, but eventually Clary realized it was a branding iron. Her stomach did a flip as she pushed herself up against the arm of the couch, cursing hotly at the pain in her leg that had her falling right back down.

"What the hell is that for?" She demanded, but they were ignoring her. Jonathan looked through the contents of the bag a moment, making a soft sound of approval at the back of his throat, before he dropped it beside the fireplace.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked the pouting witch. She was clearly still sore at having been grabbed. Maybe their relationship wasn't quite as close as it had initially seemed. That or she wasn't used to being at the brunt of Jonathan's temper. Clary might have pitied her if she weren't planning something so vile.

"Hold her down," Kesi sighed. "Everything else is already prepared. It's a crude ritual, but she made it simple enough. Short chant, brand, and Bob's your uncle."

"You are NOT branding me." Clary tried to stand again, gritting her way through the pain. She managed to limp her way around the couch before Jonathan finally turned to look at her. She had to lean heavily against the back of the couch to stay upright, but at least there was space between them.

"If you want to beat me Jonathan, go right ahead. I hurt you're feelings. I get it, you're pissed, but this is...what the fuck is wrong with you?"

The demon sighed, glancing at Kesi as she inspected the branding iron in the fire. Within the blue flames it was already glowing red. When he took a step toward Clary she sucked down a breath of fear, gripping the couch tighter.

"This isn't about hurting you Clary." He moved to the couch and watched her stumble further down its side, nearly collapsing as her thigh protested the weight. Clearly her face was full of disbelief because he gave a soft chuckle.

"Ok, maybe a little. You're right, I'm angry, but this is about making sure you can't leave again."

"I won't!" She cried as he rounded the side of the couch to approach her. He was moving slowly, knowing she couldn't run. "I promise. I won't run away. Lock me in the dungeon, do whatever you want but don't-"

"That's not good enough," he cut her off, snatching up her wrist when she stumbled and nearly fell to the floor trying to avoid him. He tugged her roughly against his chest, wrapping his arms around her to trap her cuffed hands between them. "It won't be good enough for Valentine either. Once this mark is on your skin we will be able to track you wherever you go. If you try to escape, or your friends take you away, I will be able to find you. Valentine will be satisfied that you can't escape again."

"Get off me!" Clary shrieked as he dragged her back around the couch toward the fireplace. Her thigh was screaming in protest now, and as she kicked and struggled, she was more than certain she popped a few of her stitches, but she didn't care. She had to get away from him, somehow, any way she could. The bastard was too strong however. He lifted her off her feet and carried her kicking and screaming toward the witch. Kesi was speaking into the fire, intoning strange words Clary had never heard over the iron.

"No! Get off! Fuck you, you bastard! Let go of me!"

Jonathan ignored her continued litany of insults, wrestling her to the floor on her stomach and sitting on top of her to keep her there. She felt him tug at her shirt, felt the cloth tear apart to reveal her back and her eyes pricked with tears. She tried to pushed her trapped arms against the floor, and when she couldn't throw him off her legs she tried to claw her way out from under him. The demon sighed heavily above her, shifting to roll her onto her side long enough to drag her arms down infront of her before he sat back down to trap them there beneath her hips. Clary shrieked, writhing furiously, but the awkward position of her cuffed hands made it impossible to escape. When she felt him unclasping her bra she couldn't help herself, she began to sob.

"Please!" She moaned desperately. "Please don't do this Jonathan. I'll do anything! Anything you say, I promise!"

"I wish I could believe that," he spoke evenly above her, tearing the shirt and bra out from under her to toss it across the floor. "I lied before when I told you Valentine would only imprison you. You don't understand how furious he is. If I return with you, without Isabelle, I wont be able to save you. He will kill you Clary. You've been too much of a nuisance, and you've made it clear he can't control your power. Short of forcing you to drink from the cup, this is the only way I know how to save you."

"I'll do it!" She sobbed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her thoughts racing. Anything was better than this, even if it meant losing her free will. "I'll drink it."

"It would change you," the demon shook his head. "I don't want you to become one of those mindless creatures. I don't want you to die if it rejects you."

"I don't care what you want!" She screamed, thrashing until he had to grab her shoulders to pin her down into the hardwood floor.

"It's ready." Kesi's soft voice came from above her and Clary watched her lift the branding iron out of the fire. For just a moment her expression was surprisingly tight. Pity danced in her inhuman, green eyes until Jonathan nodded and she hid the look behind a blank mask of determination. Kesi knelt down beside them, passing the branding iron to Jonathan and pressing Clary's shoulders down into the floor. They couldn't keep her entirely still, but it was enough to stop her escaping.

"Please!" Clary screamed again, kicking her legs as if that might help her. "Jonathan please!"

"I don't have a choice Clary. You should take a deep breath. This will be deeply unpleasant."

"Fuck you!" She shrieked in response. "Fuck you, you twisted fucking-"

The world melted into a blinding white burst of agony. For just a moment all the air rushed out of her lungs and she couldn't even scream, couldn't think beyond the sensation of a thousand crawling creatures dancing between her shoulder blades. For just a moment, the brand felt almost cold, so hot her nerves didn't know how to respond. The crawling sensation bled away quickly, and then there was only pain. Her next breath was a desperate gasp that wrenched its way back out of her throat in a scream that filled the entire room.

She felt the the brand lift away, tugging briefly at her flesh as the melted skin was pulled from the metal. She heard someone speak, but she couldn't make sense of the words. She could barely think beyond the pain and her desperate, racking sobs. The pressure on her shoulders left, but Clary couldn't bring herself to look at Kesi. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room. The acrid stench turned her stomach, and if she hadn't already been sobbing it would have made her eyes water. She heard the witch mumble something to Jonathan, but the distinct clank of metal was what got her attention. Clary turned to look at the fire and the iron resting back on the metal rack and lost it.

"No!" She screamed roughly, her voice ragged and hoarse. Her body felt weak, leaden and stiff with exhaustion, but she nearly toppled Jonathan over when she bucked upwards. "Don't do it again!"

The demon shifted off of her, letting her scramble up onto her knees before he dragged her by the link on her cuffs into his arms.

"It's over," he hushed her, but she could barely hear him. She tore her eyes away from the iron in the fire to look up at him, grabbing him by the front of the shirt with both hands.

"Don't do it again! Please!"

Jonathan looked almost shocked before he glanced at the fire and shook his head. "I won't," he said quickly. "Clary, it's over. Ok? It's done. Kesi, put out the fire."

She felt like she would hyperventilate, her panicked, ragged sobs shaking her whole body. She gripped his shirt so tightly her fingers were going numb, until the witch muttered something unintelligible and the flames were snuffed out. At the sight, Clary's body went limp, like a puppet with its string cut. She collapsed against Jonathan's chest, sobbing harshly into his shirt. She barely even registered his hands as he rubbed them up and down her arms, carefully avoiding her back.

Clary wasn't sure how long they sat there on the floor. Her back was aching, throbbing with a stinging pain that didn't seem to lessen. It itched and hurt all at once, but she didn't dare touch the brand. She didn't do much more than cry. After a long time Jonathan took a deep breath.

"I'm going to pick you up now, alright?"

She sniffed pathetically into his shirt, giving a jerky nod. She was shaking so hard she feared she might rattle apart against him. The demon gently pried her fingers from his shirt, lifting her up as he stood. Her thigh twinged, making her gasp harshly before he scooped her up against his shoulder, carrying her like one might a toddler, braced against his hip. Clary simply curled around him, her face buried in her hands against the curve of his neck. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her body shaking with sobs and from the shock. She didn't open them again until she felt him lower her unto something soft.

The bedroom she found herself in was larger than she would have expected. Clearly apartment meant something different outside of New York city. She stared blankly at the dark blue comforter and the high, wooden posts at the end of the bed. She felt numb to all but the pain in her back, so tired she could simply slip away.

"Lay down on your stomach Clary." Jonathan's voice was soft and gentle. Feeling like her limbs were made of lead, she obeyed, shifting to flop down onto the mattress with a quiet sound of misery. The mattress dipped at her side as Jonathan sat down beside her, brushing her hair away from her sweat drenched forehead. She flinched when his fingers trailed down to her shoulder and dangerously close to the brand.

"Dont!" Clary gasped in panic. "Don't touch it."

"I have to put a salve on the brand. The medicine I gave you before will help it heal but I don't want to risk infection."

She let out another sob, burying her face in the mattress. Jonathan called for Kesi, leaning down to speak gently again.

"Do you want me to take off the handcuffs?"

She nodded slightly, pushing her hands slowly up above her head until the motion pulled at her ruined flesh and she went stiff, crying out.

"It's ok Clary," Jonathan murmured. "I've got it." She felt him reach beneath her, fiddling with the cuffs a moment until each clicked open and he tossed them onto the bedside table. Shuffling footsteps announced Kesi's entrance into the room. Clary turned her head slightly to peek at the bitch holding the duffle bag to her chest awkwardly beside the bed. If the world was fair, the hatred in her eyes would have been enough to melt the witch on the spot. Unfortunately she remained still and not on fire. The pity in her expression did nothing to quiet Clary's resentment. She decided that it would be impossible to ever care about this woman. No matter what Jonathan did to her, she would deserve it.

"Kesi," Jonathan snapped when the witch remained frozen. "Give me the damn salve."

Moving jerkily, Kesi hurried over to the side of the bed and dug into the bag. She pulled a squat jar from inside and handed it over.

"Be careful," she said meekly, wringing her hands in front of her jacket as she watched them.

"Fuck off," Clary snapped into the mattress. She wasn't even sure why she was angry at the attempt to be kind, but she hated the witch with everything inside of herself. She just wanted her to leave. Kesi's lips thinned, her eyes moving to Jonathan who gave a slow sigh.

"Get back to Valentine. Give him whatever story you have to."

"Right," she mumbled, backing slowly from the room. Clary turned her face back into the mattress to sniff miserably, clenching her fists in the comforter at her sides. She didn't move again until Jonathan's fingers gently prodded at the edge of her brand, making her flinch violently.

"Don't move," he murmured and despite herself, she went utterly still. The moment the salve touched her brand she was shocked by the cool sensation. It sank into her skin, and slowly the pain receded, going almost numb. Clary let out a long breath, hearing Jonathan chuckle above her softly.

"Better?"

"Mmhm," she mumbled into the blankets. "What is it?"

"Another gift," he answered simply.

"Some friend," Clary sighed. The pain was nearly gone now, she could almost stop trembling. Jonathan hummed a laugh above her, finishing his work on her brand.

"You have no idea."

"Another girlfriend?" She wasn't sure why she asked. After everything, she was feeling almost loopy, like the world was packed in cotton and her brain was nestled deep inside it.

"More like...family I suppose. It doesn't matter. No more questions alright? You should get some sleep."

She wanted to ask who this mystery woman was, but the moment he suggested it, she realized how utterly exhausted she was. It swept over her in a warm wave, her eyes drifting closed. A slow sigh spilled out of her mouth, her fists going limp in the blanket, and like a switch being thrown, Clary dropped into unconsciousness.

I'm not sure why, but I get this weird little giggle out of the thought of Jonathan having a side piece...so that.

Also kids, don't play with fire or branding irons. That shit hurts like a motherfuck and can potentially lead to terrible infections. Play safe out there. Pain can be fun, but let's not send ourselves to the hospital.