As Black As Hell

CHAPTER 1: Outside of logic

"NIGHTMARES EXIST OUTSIDE OF LOGIC, AND THERE'S LITTLE FUN TO BE HAD IN EXPLANATIONS; THEY'RE ANTITHETICAL TO THE POETRY OF FEAR."

-STEPHEN KING

"It was just a dream." Soothed Alec, rubbing Jonathan's back. "It wasn't real."

Jonathan pushed his sweat-pasted hair back from his forehead. "It looked real. It felt real." He looked up at Alec, despairing. "Why did she do it?" he demanded for the thousandth time. "How many times am I going to have to watch her—to watch her—" he dropped his head into his hands. "I can't do this anymore. I need to find out why. It's the only way to stop these dreams."

Alec tutted. "Nonsense. It was years ago. You don't even know if she's still alive—" He cut himself off, but not before he felt Jonathan tense, as he always did when they spoke of his sister. Alec was the only person in the institute that knew what had happened to Jonathan's family: his mother and father, Jocelyn Fairchild and Valentine Morgenstern had been brutally murdered by their daughter, Clarissa. Jocelyn's best friend, and Valentine's parabatai, Lucian Graymark, had been turned into a werewolf and, 4 years later, presumed dead. The rest of the Circle of Raziel had disbanded and spread to Institutes around the world, including Alec's own family, who had taken leadership of the New York Institute.

That had been when Alec was 14-years-old. They seldom returned to Idris, the shadowhunter homeland, save for special occasions, such as Christmas. If he closed his eyes, Alec could still see the magnificent pines of Brocelind forest, could still taste the bittersweet berries that grew in the grounds of Lightwood manor, could still feel the morning fog settle on his pale skin like a cool blanket. He wondered if the rest of the Circle's children felt the same. Then again, he only knew of a few: Jonathan's sister, who hadn't been seen for 4 years, Michael Wayland's son, Stephen Herondale's son, though he'd never been born—his mother, Celine, had died whilst pregnant— and Hodge Starkweather's son, who Alec was fairly sure was adopted.

Then again, neither Hodge nor his son had been seen for years. 4 years, in fact. The clave didn't know who'd killed Jonathan's parents, so Hodge's disappearance meant that he was the main suspect.

Jonathan gave Alec a funny look. "Are you okay? You look as if you're miles away."

"Sorry, I was just thinking." He looked at Jonathan. He'd already calmed down, though Alec wasn't surprised. It was all fairly routine by now: the nightmares, the sweating and shaking, the demands for answers that would never come. It happened 3, maybe 4, times a night and Alec was ready each and every time it happened; he'd even taken to sleeping on the floor of Jonathan's room (Jonathan had offered to let him share the bed, but Alec had refused, though he hadn't told him why, and possibly never would).

Alec had grown accustomed to the routine by now: Jonathan would allow himself a minute longer, then excuse himself under the pretence of getting a glass of water. Alec wasn't sure why he did it; it was obvious to both of them that he was lying. But he knew that if Jonathan wanted to tell him the truth, he would, so he didn't press the matter.

Sure enough, Jonathan stood up after a minute and smiled at Alec. "Just getting a drink." He slipped out of the room, leaving Alec seated on the edge of the bed. Tugging on the sleeves of his sweater, he edged back on the bed, so he was leaning against the wall. It wasn't actually his sweater, it was Jonathan's, but they were the same size, despite Alec being older. They often borrowed each other's clothes; each boy's wardrobe was like an extension of the other's. He yawned and, when he lifted his hands to rub his eyes, he could smell Jonathan's aftershave on the sweater, lingering faintly.

It was like sunshine and hope, intermingling forever and always.

                                                                                              ***