Forgetting the Past

Chapter Sixteen: Another Obstacle

Clary had spent another day (or what she thought was a day, since she mainly just slept when she got tired) sitting in the darkness. When she was finally exhausted by the steady and overwhelming flow of emotions, she crawled into bed and slept.

At first there were no visions, but then she saw him- walking swiftly down a dimly lit corridor and running his hand against the rough stone. His white hair gleamed in the cold light, the black suit he wore drinking in all the darkness. There was a glimmer at each of Sebastian's wrists where the silver bracelets were clasped.
He whistled an eerie tune, striding loosely yet purposefully. After turning a corner, Sebastian pressed his palms against the wall, fingers splayed. There were no doorways in the hall, but suddenly one appeared. Then the dream was cut off.

And suddenly Clary's body was jolted awake. Looming over the foot of her small bed was Sebastian, grinning slyly down at her. He had opened the door to her cell.
Immediately, her heart picked up pace and her eyes went wide. Clary tried to speak, but the words came out as a choked garble of noises. She sat straight up and, clearing her throat, and said, "What do you want?"
He chuckled. Chuckled. Burning rage rose up in Clary, and she shouted at him. "Don't just stand there you bastard! Say something! Let me out of here!!"
His laughter was cut short and replaced by a curious yet chastising look. He tilted his head fractionally, clicking his tongue at her thrice. "Clary, Clary. You really haven't changed, have you? Still don't know when to keep your mouth shut."
"I'll show you who's keeping their mouth shut..." She began to grumble, rising from underneath the gray sheets. She stood on the chilly floor, blinking in the only light she'd seen in days. Breathing hard, she took a step back and then lunged at Sebastian. What else is there to do? she thought.
Suddenly time slowed around her. It was like she was stuck in a cube of Jello. Sebastian watched her with mild amusement for a moment, then inspected his fingernails while Clary ran in excruciatingly slow motion. He glanced back up at her, and with a flick of his wrist, sent her flying into the solid wall behind her at full speed.
Lungs devoid of breath, she sank to the ground and glared up at him. Sebastian's mouth was tipped up mischievously at the corners, one eyebrow arching high over the other. "Done yet, sister?" He asked nonchalantly.
She snarled at him. He chuckled once more, the laughter fading softly into silence. His expression became darker, more focused.
Striding in front of Clary, he placed his hands on her elbows and drew her up to her feet. She flinched as he reached for her, and struggled to get free from his stone-cold grasp. But she felt herself relaxing, being forced to relax...
She knew he was inside her mind. Using his powers to get the reaction he wanted from her. But what did he want? Could it really be that bad?
Stop, she told herself, he's doing this to you. You have to push him out. But her muscles did nothing in response to her brain's panicked commands.
"Now, Clary," he breathed low and smoothly into her ear, "are you going to be a good girl?"
Her mouth was moving before she even realized it. "Have I ever been?"
But the words weren't malicious; they were almost seductive. She hadn't meant to say them that way; she hadn't meant to say them at all, but they were her words. He had drawn them out of her, from whatever part of her brain words like that originated. And she hated him even more for that.
His grin was like a razor sharp blade- and a lust-filled one at that. Her stomach churned as his freezing-cold hands slid up her bare arms, over her shoulders, and around to her shoulder blades. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad once in a while," he whispered, his black eyes burning into her own green ones. She tried to remember why she should push him away. His hair was like fine white feathers falling down over his forehead, his light eyelashes casting shadows over his pale skin. She couldn't help but notice how sharp and defined his face looked in the dim light; the planes if his cheekbones, the smooth slant of his jawline-
Stop, she commanded herself. Don't let him get into your head.
Sebastian must've seen her face change, because he pulled her back under his influence with thought and touch. The invisible force in her mind silenced the fight, and his fingers slid down her body to her waist. He didn't break eye contact. "But will you please, Clarissa, promise to listen to me every now and then?" He whispered, his cold breath sending shudders down her back. She realized he was enjoying this; manipulating her mind to enjoy his touch, then torturing her with the suspense of dangling pleasure just out of reach. Despite how much it sickened her to be sucked into his twisted game, she wanted to have control over him, not the other way around.
"If you're lucky," she whispered.
His grin deepened, and his hands slid down to her hips. She shivered, not sure whether it was from the chill air, the cold wall she was pressed up against, or his icy hands on her. In one swift motion, Sebastian drew one hand away from her hip and trapped her chin between his finger and thumb. "Perhaps that will have to do," he answered, and brought his mouth down on hers.
It hurt. Not only because he was forcing her lips down on hers with such bruising pressure, but because something about being this close to a demon as powerful as him sent off every alarm in her angelic blood. And as she fought to regain her mind from his possession, the pain only grew worse.
Without her consent, her hands tangled around behind his head and combed through the hair at the nape of his neck. She struggled to find her thoughts, remember why it was wrong-
Sebastian parted her lips, gasping in air before cupping his hand around the back of her neck. Her hands slid down his solid chest of their own accord, undoing the single button on his suit coat and reaching beneath. He kissed her frantically now, trying to drink in every second of it. She put her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her, and his tongue darted into her mouth. She breathed hard, trying to kiss him back harder, trying to remember why she shouldn't be doing this...
Her hands found the bottoms on the front of his white shirt and swiftly undid a few of them. Slipping her fingers under the fabric, she found that his skin was cold and smooth, soft and etched with ancient runes. Running her hands up his body, he drew a sharp breath of both surprise and pleasure.
The haze in her mind cleared. He's your brother, idiot! He's a demon! He wants to use you! It was as if the conscious part of her brain had finally snapped awake, and everything came flooding back to Clary. She pulled herself back with a sharp breath, pressing her back and palms into the icy wall behind her and panting. She scowled up at Sebastian with rediscovered hatred, and he swore under his breath. She realized that in his haste, his grip on her mind had loosened. He might've been a pretty good demon, but he was still very new to the job.
The look in his eyes reflected hunger, and he looked rumpled and flushed. His face had a pink color, heated from the kissing and what not, and his hair was disarranged. It stuck up in odd places. She also noted that his suit coat was askew, not to mention that the lower half of his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned. Boiling anger towards him bubbled up inside of Clary.
"What the hell was that for, you bastard?" She hissed.
"You're more fun that way," he replied lightly, looking slightly annoyed that she had pulled free of his influence.
She drew in a breath, opening her mouth to speak, when a dark figure standing in the doorway interrupted her. "Your speech begins in fifteen minutes, sir," the man droned, as if he were a machine. He was dressed in a black button down shirt and matching pants, with shiny shoes the color of oil. He looked like an Italian waiter, with dark but bland features, but he spoke with no accent or emotion.
Sebastian didn't say a word to the man, but dismissed him with the wave of his hand. He looked back at Clary, who he was still only millimeters from. His chest brushed hers when he inhaled. The feeling made her skin crawl.
"We should be going," he said to her, buttoning his shirt and jacket once again. He reached for Clary, circling his slim fingers around her bicep. She cringed away from him, but let him pull her out the door.
"For what? Who was that?" She demanded.
"One question at a time, sister," he said with a dry smile. "I have a speech, like he said. And that was a soul damned to hell. I can't remember his name. I choose the human for servants; the demons... They leave something to be desired," he finished with a wry grin.
She scoffed at him silently, and wondered what part she had in this upcoming event. Because as soon as she figured that out, she would be sure to do everything she could to stop it.