The Soul in the Shadows (Shadowhunters ff)

Chapter 5 - Shadow Between Us

The dream settled in slowly, like fog filling a quiet street. At first, Clary was barely aware of where she was, just a lingering feeling of wrongness prickling at the back of her mind. It was the faint smell that came first—an ashy, metallic scent that stirred something in her memory. Then the dim light, casting long shadows over the lavish yet eerie decor. Tall, wrought-iron candelabras and wall sconces glowed faintly, their flames reflecting off gold-toned walls, yet failing to warm the chilling space. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, dripping with crystals that caught the candlelight. In front of her, a grand dining table stretched across the room, set with intricate, antique dinnerware, but appearing unused, as if frozen in time.

It hit her in a wave, the realization: Lilith's apartment.

The room was exactly as she remembered it, every detail meticulously etched in place, down to the stained windows that never let in quite enough light and the faint stains on the threadbare carpet. She hadn't been here since... since she was with Jonathan. Since they'd spent those twisted days together.

Her pulse quickened, her instincts urging her to turn and leave. But her feet felt rooted, locked in place by some invisible force. Clary took a shaky breath, looking around the room as if expecting it to change under her gaze, to shift into something less familiar, less painful. But it remained the same, an inescapable relic of her past.

A soft, familiar sound echoed from the corner—a chair scraping across the floor.

Clary spun around, her breath catching in her throat. And there he was, sitting in the shadowy corner, watching her with that unnerving calmness that always seemed to make him both enticing and dangerous. Jonathan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his piercing gaze locking onto her as a slow, almost mocking smile spread across his lips.

"Miss me?" he asked, his voice soft but with an edge that made her skin crawl.

She wanted to scoff, to roll her eyes, to meet his casual confidence with the same indifference. But all she could feel was the sick, tightening grip of fear mixed with something else—a pang of memories she'd buried and burned. The days they had spent together in this apartment, like brother and sister. The moments when she'd thought she could reach him, save him from himself.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Clary forced herself to straighten, meeting his gaze with as much strength as she could muster. "What are you doing here, Jonathan? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

His eyes gleamed with a dark amusement as he shrugged, the movement almost lazy. "You tell me, Clary. Isn't this your dream?"

She clenched her fists, feeling a flicker of anger rise to the surface. "Go away," she snapped. "I want nothing to do with you, Jonathan."

Jonathan's smile only widened. He stood, crossing the room in slow, deliberate steps, stopping just inches from her. She could feel his presence, the suffocating darkness radiating from him, tugging at her resolve. He leaned close, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing her ear as he spoke.

"Funny, then, that you're here... with me," he murmured. "Because I don't think you can let go of me. Not really."

Clary's stomach churned, the words slipping under her skin, wrapping around her thoughts. No matter how much she tried to fight it, the truth was painfully clear: a part of her, no matter how small, had held on to him. Whether it was guilt, pity, or a twisted sense of responsibility, she didn't know. But the thought made her sick.

She took a step back, putting distance between them, her voice low and steady. "I'm not afraid of you, Jonathan."

He chuckled, shaking his head slowly, his gaze almost pitying. "Maybe. But you're afraid of something, Clary. I can see it... like blood in the water."