He could see himself smiling in the grimy mirror over the bar.
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He knew the way it lit up his face, made him almost irresistible. His father had trained him for years to smile like that, like a human being. Jonathan smiled wider and turned his right hand over to show the Voyance rune on the back of it. The breath went out of Sebastian in relief and he beamed with delighted recognition: as if any Shadowhunter was a comrade and a potential friend.
Protecting the innocent, he projected to the world and Sebastian in particular. A fine old family. See the sights. He was certain he would have no problem answering to an assumed name: he never did. His real name was Jonathan, but he had never felt particularly attached to it: perhaps because he had always known that it was not his name alone.
The other Jonathan, being raised not so far away, in a house just like his, visited by his father. My lucky day. Sebastian smiled and took a last swallow from his glass, setting it down on the bar. Jonathan nodded, and tried to look as if he was very focused on searching the room for demons. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, like brother warriors. Who trusted other people like that? Wanted to be their friend so easily? He had never played nicely with others.
Of course, he had not ever been given the opportunity: his father had kept him and the other Jonathan apart. A child with demon blood and a child with angel blood: raise both boys as yours and see who makes daddy proud. The other boy had failed a test when he was younger, and been sent away. Jonathan knew that much. He had passed every test their father had ever set for him. Maybe he had passed them all a little too well, too flawlessly, unfazed by the isolation chamber and the animals, the whip or the hunt.
Though what did he have to be grieved over? Why should he doubt? Was Jonathan not the perfect warrior? Was he not everything his father had created him to be? Jonathan had never liked the idea of the other Jonathan, of Father having another boy, one who made Father smile sometimes at the thought of him without a shadow in his eyes. Jonathan had cut one of his practise dummies off at the knees once, and spent a pleasant day strangling it and disembowelling it, slitting it from neck to navel. I have four brothers and three sisters. Jonathan had a blood sister, too, although they had never met.
Father had told him about his mother running off when Jonathan was a baby she was pregnant again, inexplicably weepy and miserable because she had some sort of objection to her child being improved.
Sebastian Bergne – Cyrcus
Only a few weeks ago, Father had met Clarissa for the first time, and on their second encounter Clarissa had proven she knew how to use her power as well. Once he and Father had taken down and transformed the Shadowhunters, laid waste to their pride and their city, Father said that Mother, the other Jonathan and Clarissa would be coming to live with them.
Clarissa had never chosen to leave him. She had been taken away and been forced to grow up in the midst of mundanes, of all disgusting things. She must have always known she was made of different stuff from everyone around her, meant for utterly different things, power and strangeness crackling beneath her skin. She had angel in her, like the other Jonathan, not the infernal blood that ran through his veins. She might not be very different from Jonathan himself. The thought excited him in a way he had never been excited before.
Becoming Sebastian: An outtake from City of Glass
Clarissa was his sister; she belonged to no one else. The emperor ordered Sebastian shot through with arrows, condemned to die for his Christian faith. The emotional richness of the sculpture and virtuoso carving of this exotic material are characteristic of the style of the artist known as the Master of the Furies, named after an ivory statuette of a vengeful Fury in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.
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