For whom the bell trolls

Acheronta movebo

There is a fine line between death and life. Now you are here, breathing, talking, moving, thinking - living - in a blink of an eye you could be counting how many breaths you are away from losing everything.

It is incredible how just a few hours earlier Jonathan was at the Penhallow manor with all of them; his sister, Jace and the Lightwoods. No one really knew who he was. Sebastian Verlac, he went by that name to get close to them and enter Idris without anyone suspecting a thing. Jonathan was on a mission given to him by his father. Valentine wants Alicante's wards down and Jonathan is his only hope. In order not to get caught, Jonathan had to play along. He had to take the role of Sebastian Verlac.

But as soon as the night fell, the chaos began. Wards were down, demons were entering the place where they have never set a foot before and Jonathan's mask had finally fallen. Crying, screaming, begging - music for Jonathan's ears.

Jonathan made his way back to the Penhallow manor while demons were raging through the City of Glass. Death of Shadowhunters. If Valentine was here he would probably wear a satisfied smile. Not Jonathan, he did not really know what to feel. Other Shadowhunters were overwhelmed with feelings such as terror, anger and many other Jonathan could not assimilate to. On the other side, Valentine was feeling victory, pride and power. Jonathan felt neither. Death is death.

"You... you are the one I saw climbing on the towers.", the soft voice of a child trembled behind Jonathan's back. He saw Max as soon as he entered the house and who was pointing a finger at Jonathan. "You deactivated the wards!" With a newly gained strength, the child yelled at him in accusing tone, almost like he's scolding him.

"What are you going to do about that?", Jonathan asked with a sardonic chuckle. He did not come here to play games with children but rather to get his hands dirty. Death of the older Lightwood is what Jonathan was yearning for.

Reckless and stupid was the child. Nothing less expected. Max tried to kick him but he was way too slow and ignorant for Jonathan who grabbed the hem of the child's shirt and effortlessly picked his tiny body off the ground.

"Put him down." The voice came from across the room. It was Isabelle Lightwood. The tone of her voice was stern, demanding.

For safety measures, Jonathan brought his seraph blade to the boy's neck. Max stopped squirming when he felt the cold matter on the skin of his neck. "I was expecting to meet you here. Thank you for not disappointing me, Isabelle Lightwood." Miraculously, excitement was evident in Jonathan's voice when he noticed the female holding her whip. She was ready to use it at any time. "Now, throw your whip away or watch his pretty little head roll down to the floor."

No matter how much she tried to hide the fear behind fearlessness, it was all so clear. One thing that cannot be hidden from Jonathan is fear, he senses and absorbs it. Fear makes the blood in his veins boil. Isabelle was hesitating. He wondered if her heart is already vigorously pumping against her chest. He wanted to stab her and count down her last heartbeats. Ultimately, she did a wrong move by throwing the whip. How stupid.

Max was thrown away and, in the speed of lightning, Jonathan launched himself onto the brunette. She could not have done anything to prevent herself from crashing her back against the wall and landing face-first to the floor. Jonathan tucked his blade in the belt around his waist while circling around her body. Grabbing a handful of Isabelle's hair, he yanked her to stand on her feet. The smirk on his face grew bigger and more vicious when he heard Isabelle groaning in pain. "I expected more of you."

Amusement broke across his sharp facial features at the sight of pure hate in her eyes when their gazes met. Isabelle's slender arm lifted in an effort to hit his face with an elbow. Jonathan saw it coming and managed to wrap his long digits around her wrist and twist her arm behind her back. Once again, he knocked her into the wall. This time he also slamming her head against it. Feeling her body languishing at the caused pain, Jonathan lowered in order to whisper in her ear. "You are hot. Too bad you have to die before I got a chance to-"

In the middle of his sentence, Isabelle gave her head a jolt and hit him right across the face. He released her and backed away, hand flying to cover his nose. A thick line of red liquid slid over his lips. Regaining her strength, Isabelle's fist collided with his abdomen. Rage fluttered throughout Jonathan's body. Next thing he knew was that he attacked the Lightwood girl without restraint. Few punches were delivered to her face which led to tackling her to the ground and sitting on top of her. His pale fingers gripped on Isabelle's neck.

"Leave my sister alone!" Max's body crushed against Jonathan's back in order to wrap his tiny arms around his neck. Jonathan pushed the kid which then bumped into the bookshelf. Isabelle parted her lips and tried to say something, but she was too weak to do so. When one of the books hit the back of Jonathan's head, he swore under his breath and finally stood up.

Not hesitating even a bit, Jonathan clasped the sharp pointy end of a blade that Max previously found on the ground and hauled on it. Jonathan was not aware of the strength he used to do that because Max flew forward, banging his forehead vigorously against the angular verge of the table. His body was not moving anymore. For a moment Jonathan was plainly staring at Max's motionless body with eyes wide open. He did not realize he was holding his breath until he moved forward to check the boy's pulse. But there was no pulse. That was not supposed to happen. Jonathan never meant to take Max's life. And, oddly enough, he was upset because of it.

Followed by Isabelle's screeches and threats, Jonathan left the house. Just another murder in a row. It did not mean much to Jonathan. After all, everyone must die and then become just a story from the past. It gets old, insignificant and eventually forgotten.