Mortal Instruments 1. Chapter 1

It was nearing midnight and through the glass walls of the greenhouse, Manhattan was shining neon, lit up by millions of lives far below. But Clary didn't notice, didn't care about those millions of lives right now, because those lights illuminating the whole city were nothing compared to the familiar flecks of golden light she could see in Jace's eyes. She loved looking at him, his glowing, fire lit eyes. His full lips and strong jaw. he was the most beautiful sight in the whole of Manhattan. and it wasn't just her who thought this, of course. Jace attracted attention wherever he went, especial the female kind. a pang of jealousy shot through Clary and she wondered, not for the first time, why her? why had he, this angelic looking, fierce and beautiful boy... no, she corrected herself, man. for Jace was a man now. he had turned eighteen just last week. of course he had always looked strong and older and more experienced to Clary. his broad, muscular shape and height had given him this demeanour. Clary however, despite being 17 now, still had the proportions of a child. small hips, flat chest and scrawny, freckled face. although, she thought consolingly, she had developed some curves in the past year. she could at least now say she has a waist, even if it barely showed.  
"you're staring at me." Jace said, his eyes not moving from the beautiful city scene below them.  
Clary flushed and looked away, down to her lap where her hands had been fidgeting. She always marvelled at Jace's ability to keep so still, and yet be able to move in an instant with a deadly lightning strike, should need be. Clary always felt nervous and bare without her beaten up old notepad and pencil. Before she could apologise, or think of something witty to respond, the way Isabelle always would, Jace's hand slid between her own. she looked back at him, unable to help herself, only to be faced with Jace's burning intense gaze. he looked thoughtful, and relaxed, in a way she only ever saw him when they were alone.  
"I didn't say you had to stop. He murmured, a smile forming on his perfect mouth. his smile revealed his one, chipped incisor. she had known Jace for over a year now, and had never thought to ask him how it had happened. she opened her mouth, ready to poise her question when he leant forward and kissed her on her lips. It was just as it had been the first time, here, in this place, with the city and the plants and the buzzing of wild, exotic insects. and just the two of them, as one. but the kiss was not the same. this time, Jace was not holding back, his mouth, once hard and unyielding, now sunk into hers, merging and moving as if his very life depended on kissing her, on being with her. with her. with HER. oh...  
She could feel his chest rising and falling fast, laboured and his heart pouncing in his ribcage, matching a rhythm beating away in herself. His arms wrapped around her and before she could move her own arms into his golden hair he rolled over, pulling her with him so she lay, on top of him, still connected in a wild, frenzied embrace. He grinned up at her and she felt her heart swell with everything she had ever felt for him at once. When he smiled, all the care, the hardness and violence melted away from him, and he was young, and beautiful, and, in love? Clary thought. she hoped so, for she was certain that she was.  
"I brought food?" he said, and Clary was drawn out of her bubble of thought, of hopes.  
food? she thought.  
"I'm not hungry." she said breathlessly.  
"Me neither." Jace said and he leant up to kiss her again.  
As they continued Clary realised, that was Jace's way of asking her if she wanted to stop, before...oh... did she? did she want to stop? of course she knew the answer before she had even thought of the question. Of course not. When it came to Jace, she never wanted it to stop, that was her problem. Maybe Jace had sensed her train of thought, or maybe he simply needed to break for air but he drew his lips back from hers and propped himself up on his elbows. Above him, Clary felt his abs tense. It was very distracting. He frowned at her, his eyes now darker and full of concern.  
"Is this ok?" he asked, and the sound of his voice, soft but secure, reassuring that even if her answer was no, it would be ok. But was her answer no? No. Or was it? She bit her lip and leant back, so that she sat, straddling his knees.  
"If you want to stop...if its too much?"  
"No!" She exclaimed, a little louder than she had intended. A brightly coloured bird fluttered away from a nearby tree indignantly. Jace grinned and chuckled softly.  
"Aright, if you feel so strongly about it. I myself am really not too bothered, I mean-"  
Clary cut him off with a indignant glare and he continued to laugh softly. She could feel his myrth vibrating through him beneath her, like the buzzing of life itself.  
"I just-" Clary began, then faltered. What was she going to say? That she was inexperienced? that seemed like a mild way to put it, she was non-experienced, especially compared to Jace. she sagged miserably and let out a shaky breath. She suddenly felt soft fingers under her chin as Jace pushed her head up and brought her lips to his.  
"I understand." He murmured. and he did, she knew he did. Except he didn't want him to "understand". She just wanted him. But not here, amidst the bee's and tree's, with the huge glass walls that made it feel like the world was watching. She wanted him all to herself, and damn the world as far as she cared at this moment.  
"Not here." She whispered against his lips, and was surprised by the steadiness of her voice. She felt him draw back, and saw his left eyebrow shoot up in surprise.  
"Downstairs." She said, almost pleading with him. Apparently pleading was unnecessary, Jace seemed all too happy to oblige, pulling her up as he stood quickly and placing one muscular arm behind her legs, scooping her into him, her head against his chest. he smelled like warm sunlight, the way he always did, and to her- safety. Around Jace she seemed not only to feel protected, but stronger herself, braver. She giggled and wiggled her legs, which dangled over his forearm.  
"now now, Fray" Jace reprimanded her playfully.  
"No wiggling!" And as he said it he slung her over he shoulder without even a grunt of effort. He strode easily through the botany and reached the elevator, pressing the ground floor button with urgency, desire. Whilst they waited Clary, who was still dangling over Jace's strong shoulder looked down and noticed that from here, she had a perfect view of Jace's... shall we say... derrière.  
"I can see your bum from here" Clary giggled in her giddy excitement, then clapped her hand over her mouth, instantly regretting how childish she had sounded. But Jace simply quaked with laughter and said between chuckles  
"Lucky you, plenty of artists would kill for that view." Although she couldn't see his face, Clary could imagine the playful grin that always painted his face when he came out with something particularly witty. Which, Clary noted, was pretty much all the time.  
The lift doors dinged and opened, revealing Church looking harassed and grumpy.  
"BRRRRRGH!"  
Church made a rumbling noise in his through to show the pair he was clearly displeased and had been asleep in the elevator.  
"Sorry church!" Clary said, suppressing more giggles.  
"Hh screw that!" said Jace with conviction. He shooed Church out and before Clary could take a breath swung her down lightly into the elevator and allowed the doors to close on them, leaving a very disgruntled cat behind.  
Clary turned to face Jace, and looked at him with a reproachfulness that didn't quite reach her eyes.  
"Poor Church, he was-" but the rest of her protest was cut of as Jace pushed her to the wall of the lift and kissed her again, burning with heat and desire. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on tip-toes to reach him. He grabbed at the backs of her thighs and pulled her up, so that her thing legs wrapped around his waist. He pushed her harder into the wall and pressed himself against her, as if trying to physically push himself into her very being, until they truly were just one person.  
DING  
The doors swung open and Jace, still not breaking their contact, pulled Clary from the wall and held her to him. She nuzzled into his chest, her shallow breathing against his collarbone. She felt him tense, was she doing that? Or was it just the strain of carrying her? probably that, she thought, disappointedly.  
"Your place, or mine?" Jace spoke softly, and with a slight jilt of amusement that was clearly covering up his shaking voice, wrung tight with anticipation.  
"Yours" Clary said instinctively. Not because it was where she wanted to be more, she didn't care where she was now, as long as Jace was there too. She simply said it because that was what she was.  
Yours. she thought, absolutely yours. Jace didn't waste any more time, pacing swiftly towards his room, still holding her to him, arms wrapped protectively around her. Perhaps he thought she was his too, Clary thought. She liked that idea.  
Jace reached his door and set her down, albeit reluctantly. He began fumbling with the mahogany handle wildly. Was he shaking? Clary thought. Jace's hands, always steady, ready to throw a Seraph blade 20 metres straight into the heart of what ever hell sent demon happened to appear, shaking? She could do that to him? Suddenly she felt more powerful, more in control of her own fate that ever before.  
The door clicked open and without warning Clary pushed it fiercely open and grabbed Jace's shoulders, pushing him through before her. He began to stumble backwards, rapidly losing balance from surprise at Clary's forceful movement. However, soon he found his footing and allowed himself to be steered towards the bed, where he fell back, and she toppled on to him.  
"Very eager there, Fray!" Jace murmured, but no protest formed on his lips.  
"You would be too, if you were seeing what I am." She whispered back. He opened his mouth, ready to form a smarmy response but before he could say anything more she straddled him, this time around his hips and slide her arms over his sculpted pectoral muscles.  
He moaned, almost involuntarily as her cool fingertips traced he tiny scars by his collarbones.  
"Well" Clary said, boldly "I think this needs to come off, don't you?" She tapped at his lightly coloured cotton shirt and he obediently grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head.  
Clary struggled to suppress a sigh of longing as his shook his hair out of his face, lifting his arm to push straggling golden strands out of the way. Her fingers itched to run her hands through it.  
"Your turn." He grinned and placed his firm hands on the sides of her arms.  
Suddenly, a wave of nervous fear washed over her and she felt the colourful blush that had filled her cheeks sink out of her. Her heart was heavy again, and suddenly she was aware of where she was, and what she was doing.  
"Clary? Clary, what's wrong?" Jace's voice was strained and panicked, as if he was... afraid? But not of her, surely.  
"I'm not Isabelle." Clary blurted, before she could stop herself.  
At this, Jace sat up abruptly, accidentally causing her to lose her balance and topple on to the floor.  
"OUCH!" Clary bellowed, most ungracefully.  
Jace swore and helped her up.  
"I gathered that, you know. Isabelles the tall, dark haired-"  
"Perfect one." Clary finished for him bitterly, accepting his hand and perching on the side of the bed gingerly.  
Jace sighed exasperatedly "You're perfect. Of course I don't think you're Isabelle, I don't want Isabelle. I want you." He touched her cheek and tilted her head up, but he didn't kiss her this time. He seemed wary. She hated the idea that she had done that to him. Instead he looked into her eyes, and she saw it. The truth, he wanted her. He wanted her.  
"You are beautiful." He said simply, and on any other day, she wouldn't have believed him. In any other moment she would have shaken the compliment off. But all she could see was his eyes, earnest and filled with...love?  
He loved her, and she loved him. She wanted this.  
She kissed him, softly, and the wild blinding passion returned in an instant, as if when their lips touched sparks flew, infecting them both with fire. Lighting them up untill everything else seemed dark and unimportant. She moved on top of his once again and slowly, pulling her light green tank top over her head, revealing her plain white bra. she moved her head hastily out of it, and opened her mouth, to apologise for her flat, pale chest, or else to cross her arms over herself and curl up with embarrassment at her child-like physique. But Jace's face stopped her. He was staring at her in awe. As if he, Jace, who had had any girl he ever desired, could never, ever have anything as beautiful...as her.  
She hooked her hands into the tops of his jeans and pulled them down , lifting herself slowly so as to ease them off him. suddenly she realised that the only piece of clothing left on Jace was his plain, black boxers, and it still was too much.  
Jace took her movements as license to respond with his own, he wrapped his arms around her now almost bare torso and she felt herself shiver at his warm, tingling touch. If he noticed, he didn't stop, he laced his hands behind her and gently unhooked her bra. She felt the soft fabric release and before she knew it he was sliding it down her arms, leaving her exposed to his piercing eyes. Though she didn't feel exposed. after all her apprehension, her fear and jitters, this felt...natural.  
Jace had busied himself sliding her own soft cotton trousers down, revealing her plain underwear. Now they were both left with just one piece of clothing each, and the Morgenstern ring which hung on a delicate chain from Clary's neck and dangled between them. But the name Morgenstern would never stand between them again, nothing would.  
"This is it." Jace said gently, and his voice was full of yearning for her.  
"This is it." Clary agreed, and her hands and his hands slid in unison, to one another's underwear, pulling them away, stripping them bare to one another, the way Clary had always made Jace feel, bare, as if he was vulnerable. Never had any girl made him feel this way, and he had had many, many girls. But Clary wasn't just a girl, she was the girl. He knew it now, as he looked up at her, completely bare. She was the only girl there was ever, and would ever be now. He had wanted her from the moment he saw her, and even now, when he was so close to having her, the wanting still burnt inside him.  
A lack of forbidden he thought with mirth, remembering her words to him on that night what seemed like so long ago, would never be a problem. Clary being forbidden was the hardest thing he had ever faced.  
Clary's fast, laboured breathing against his chest roused him from the memory of his time without her. He placed his hands on her sides, as if reassuring himself she were real, she was there, with him. She was saying something.  
"Ready?" she asked breathily.  
Jace answered by lifting her up easily around the waist and placing her over his throbbing groin.  
"Ready." he said and released her.  
She sunk on to him and as he watched her, he saw her mouth form a perfect "o". A slight, soft scream escaped her lips that hovered somewhere between pain and...pleasure?  
He had never had a virgin before, and that made Clary all the more special. She was pure. She was his, and his only his, he thought selfishly and as he thought this his arms moved around her protectively, encasing her in his own body.  
"Is this ok?" he asked, his torso pressed against hers. He could feel her breathing, and as he pressed harder into her she made another noise, that sounded a little like yes.  
This was good enough for Jace, who took the noise as a green light and rolled over, pulling her with him, still buried inside her, so that now he was on top, he was in control.  
Jace held himself over Clary, and she felt his muscles tense on either side of her as he supported his weight upon them. He began easing out, and as he moved she felt how perfectly they fit together, like two pieces of an eternal puzzle, that was finally, perfectly fitting at last. He rolled his hips back and forth, settling into a rhythm as she gazed at him above her, his eyes twinkling with possession...of her.  
His breath was strained and is muscles all tensed and writhing with hers. After what seemed like eternity of their eyes locked together she tilted her hips up, very gently at first to meet his.  
She felt the motion grind their hips together, and apparently so did he as he let out a strained, passion filled moan. Deciding she rather liked that noise, she began to build up speed in her movements, and Jace responded with equal measure.  
Soon they were writhing, pushing and straining against each other, his hair falling down, protecting them in a curtain of golden strands. His arms reached up around his back, feeling the sweat that had built up from their exertions.  
Jace's hips pushed urgently, and Clary whimpered with pleasure and the noise itself almost sent Jace over the edge, but he grunted in his determination to hold on, to wait until she was ready. they would explode together. And that was what they did. He erupted into her just as she convulsed around him, both crying out in ecstasy.  
Jace's arms gave way and he dropped, his full weight falling on to Clary for a moment, pressing her into the mattress. Somewhere beyond the peaceful joy that now filled him he felt the ring dig into his chest, and realised it must be paining Clary. He rolled off her, sliding out of her softly. He felt her moan rather than heard it as he moved out of her.  
He lay on his back, next to her and thought of every moment he had ever spent with Clary, and how despite there wonder, none was better than here, now.  
How everything was better when she was here, how she made him better. When Clary was around, Jace forgot how he had been raised by a killer, how he was no better that that killer, was he? He forgot how he had never known his mother. Clary made him kind. Kind, which he had once mistaken to mean weak. strangely, as he lay there, his fathers, no, Valentines. Valentines words.  
To love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be destroyed.  
If this is what destruction feels like, then let then end begin. He thought contentedly.  
He turned his head to look at Clary. A halo of red curls was spread around her, tousled and damp with sweat. Her pale, lily white skin, flecked with freckles that he loved. He wished he could kiss every one until she realised her beauty like everyone else did. Her green eyes, rou nd and perfect, honest and untainted. Despite the loss of her virginity, her eyes still seemed pure and unspoilt. Perhaps there was something inside clar that he could never ruin, never spoil. The idea reassured him that perhaps she was not as breakable as he feared. Her rose pink lips, moving, forming silent words.  
He roused himself from his daydream.  
"Huh?" Jace murmured throatily, his usual eloquence had deserted him as he felt her bare chest against his abdomen as she rolled on top of him.  
"Jace." she whispered, her words tickling his collarbone gently. "I really wish you would stop desperately trying to grab my attention like this, its getting embarrassing." He could see her smiling face, glowing, framed by her curly red hair which spread across his chest like a shield. He smiled in memory of those words he had said to her when they were only strangers.  
"Sarcasm" he replied, continuing with the memory "Is the refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt."  
She eased herself up and grinned at him, her hands exploring his chest. Did she want... more?  
"Oh? So its imagination you want?" She asked teasingly, sliding her hands downwards as his eyes widened in surprise. She did want more.  
Well, who was here not to grant a ladies wishes...


	2. Chapter 2

The occasional rays of morning light shone through the thin, red fabric of the curtains that was artistically draped over the windows in Magnus's flat, filling parts of the room with a strange red glow. Magnus rolled and stretched, entwined in the various covers and draped that decorated the regal four poster bed that took pride of place in the centre of the room. The carvings that decorated the headboard had been taken from the surviving remnants of the titanic itself. Magnus would know, he had seen them when they had decorated the glorious dance halls and dining rooms. He had also seen the bodies, floating, pale and lifeless on the surface of the black water. He had seen their faces lighting up, almost opaque from the flickering flames of the sinking ship. Their expressions blank and their eyes unseeing. Magnus had lived for over 800 years, and had seen more death than he cared to remember. It was funny, he thought, how even an immortal life did not take away the fear nor pain of death. Magnus rolled again, shaking such thoughts from his head and felt Alec beside him, his breathing stead and his strong, muscular body relaxed. slowly and very gently so as not to wake him, Magnus propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Alec's face. In sleep, all Alec's Caution, apprehension, concern...it was all gone. his delicate features were calm and serene, and his skin was smooth and untroubled. He seemed so...still. Except his eyes, beneath closed lids they swivelled and flicked, like pinballs in their sockets. Magnus wondered what he was dreaming about, and selfishly hoped it was him. He liked the idea that he could bring that look to Alec's face, even if it was only in a dream.  
As Magnus stared down at Alec, he remembered the shy, mysterious shadowhunter boy who had lurked behind the others. But Magnus had noticed him immediately, all dark haired and tall, with those piercing blue eyes. These were the things that had attracted Magnus to Alec. His protectiveness and yet not envy, his bravery and yet not pride. The unassuming way he shrugged his shoulders when Magnus flirted with him. They were the things Magnus had fallen in love with.  
And then here was the way Alec lined the mugs up in the cupboards, and insisted that the forks be separate to the knives and the toothbrushes each have their own holder, they were the little things that kept Magnus in love with him. All those habits, all those thoughts and feelings, everything that made up the man Magnus had fallen in love with was written across Alec's face, and it glowed out of him so brightly Magnus felt even looking at him for too long would cause sunspots to dance across his eyes.  
It troubled Magnus that this humanity that he so loved about Alec would one day be their destruction. There was no escaping Alec's mortality. Their relationship was sand in an hourglass, slipping through Magnus's fingers day by perfect day. He had lived through a thousand centuries looking this way, and would live through a thousand more without ageing a day. Alec, however would wither and...die. He would live a normal life, waking up with more lines appearing on his now smooth face every day, and his bones would begin to ache and tire, even his crystalline blue eyes would cloud and grow faint. The idea filled Magnus with panic, and he realised with a sickening jolt that his hands were sweating and his hands had furled into fists, screwing up clumps of bed-sheets. Alec stirred and the movement and Magnus stopped abruptly. He didn't want Alec to wake, to see him like this. when Alec mentioned his mortality to Magnus he kept a cool exterior, as if the idea did not bother him, as if it were natural. the truth was Magnus couldn't imagine anything more unnatural than living without Alec, like living without something vital, without which he would surely fade.  
Magnus dragged his thoughts painfully away from the future and turned away from Alec's still slumbering figure. He slid out of bed gently, being careful not to rouse Alec. He padded barefoot across the Persian rug he had... acquired from the antique store on 6th avenue.  
He scooped up his violet silk dressing gown from where it lay, crumpled beside the dresser. as he straightened up and pulled it over his bare chest his eyes fell upon Alec's neatly folded t-shirt and jeans. Normally his shoes would have lay beside, but Magnus had refused to let him inside the flat whilst wearing them. Him and Jace had ventured into some sewers in pursuit of what Alec assured him was a very dangerous demon. In return, Magnus had assured him he would not be sleeping in the garage if he did not leave them outside.  
A smile curled across Magnus's lips at the memory and he tiptoed to the bathroom to check his unchanging reflection. A schoolgirl smile decorated Magnus's lips and he shook his head at his reflection, the way one would at a naughty child. over half a millennia old and he was grinning like a Cheshire cat all over a memory. But memories were all Magnus had, most of everything he had ever known was a memory now, and soon Alec would be no different.  
No.  
He would not keep thinking like that. His time with Alec was precious enough and he would not waste it on morbid thoughts. He turned his attention to his reflection once again. The foolish grin had slid off his face and without his glitter and make-up he seemed resoundingly plain. forgettable. His dark hair hung just above his shoulders in soft waves, slightly tousled from the night before.  
The night before.  
Magnus remembered in a flutter of butterflies that had risen from his chest. It seemed Alec's own youth brought out the young boy in Magnus too. with Alec it felt like everything he did was for the first time. Living forever could make everything seem like an old re-run, but not Alec. Alec lit up life like a ray of sun. Like the rays of sun that now lit up the entire room behind him. Magnus wondered absently what time it was. his stomach rumbled in response to the thought.  
Breakfast time.  
Magnus thought, and turned away from the mirror without bothering to study his reflection any longer. he headed downstairs towards the kitchen, his mind set deliberately on food, and yet not far from any lingering thoughts of mortality.

Alec awoke with a start to a strange pressure against his lips. The feeling was not unpleasant, but it startled him enough to wake him. his eyelids fluttered open and he blinked and drew back in surprise. There, leaning over him, his bright green cat eyes sparkling with mirth, was Magnus.  
"Our very own sleeping beauty everybody!" He bowed to an imaginary audience, that in reality consisted of Chairman Meow, who stirred lazily on his pouffe, but did not bother to open his eyes.  
Alec smiled and pulled the tassel on Magnus's green silk robe, pulling him down to Alec's level once again. He pulled him close and kissed him, intensely, almost instinctively on the lips. Magnus made a small noise of surprise but, unlike Alec, did not draw back. Instead he wrapped his arms around Alec's neck, intensifying the kiss. Suddenly, Alec broke the kiss and pulled Magnus onto the bed, rolling over him so he lay on to, arms still around his neck.  
"Now that" said Magnus, a little breathless "Is a wake up call." He grinned and Alec moved in, pressing his lips against Magnus's own and...  
A ring cut through the Intensity of the moment like a knife. Alec drew back again, frowning irritably at the side table, where his phone lay, Buzzing. A total mood looked at Magnus questioningly, and Magnus replied with a resigned shrug, before sliding out of bed with a wistful sigh. He got off the bed with what was clearly intended to be a dignified silence and marched across the room, murmuring something that sounded something like  
"You're loss."  
Alec sighed, his eyes lingering for a moment where Magnus had disappeared downstairs, before the repeating ring cut through his wandering thought of what might have been. Irritably, he reached for his phone. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and stretched as he sat up, his hand retrieving his phone from the wooden table. Alec's eyes focused on the overly bright screen and he winced as his eyes adjusted. As he focused, he read the name beneath the caller symbol. Jace. Man, did he have a sense of timing.  
Why would Jace be calling him?  
There was a time when Alec wouldn't have thought twice about picking up the phone, and scampering off on whatever ridiculous and fool hardy adventure Jace had suggested, but that was when there was nowhere else he'd rather have been. It was different now, Alec was exactly where he wanted to be. But this was Jace, and he couldn't just ignore his friends because he had found something better. He allowed himself a moment to scold himself before pressing the receive call button and saying  
"Jace? What'sup? If you've found another stupid demon I swear I'll-"  
It was the silence that made him stop, the absence of the smooth, cocky, familiar voice Alec knew so well.  
"Jace? Hello? Are you even there?"  
When Jace finally spoke, it was a strangled, desperate noise. His voice was broken and hoarse, as if he had been shouting. He spoke spoke slowly, so much so it almost felt dangerous, in a way only Jace could. Two words, just two words that Jace could say that would explain, and Alec knew what they were before he even uttered a word.  
"She's gone"  
Jace's voice crackled down the line,  
"She's gone, Alec"  
He repeated, desperately, almost searchingly.  
"Clary's gone."


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken Alec less that ten minutes to get from Magnus's apartment to the institute, but by the look on Jace's face when he burst through the great carved doors of mahogany and steel, he may as well have been a century. Jace looked like he had lived a thousand years since yesterday, and all traces of the nimble young man full of vitality that he had seen just yesterday were gone, replaced by haze of desperate anxiety and... nails were already bitten to the quicks, and his hair, usually silken and smooth was knotted and tousled.  
He looks destroyed, and as he thought it he remembered One of Jace's sayings, an old one that he hadn't heard in a long time.  
"To love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be the one destroyed."  
He had never truly understood what Jace had meant, but seeing him, gaunt and pale, his golden eyes full of pain and a kind of veiled rage, the true meaning of the words washed over him like an unwanted tidal wave of understanding.  
He rose immediately from where he had been sitting, hunched in a particularly regal looking chair. It was intricately carved with glorious looking angelic figures with flowing hair and strong, muscular torso's. Even from where he stood, Alec could see how even their faces had been meticulously perfected, with high, angular cheekbones and strong, beautiful faces.  
But Alec's eyes were fixed not upon the faces of the still, wooden angels, but the contorted, strained, and yet still no less beautiful Face of his friend. He watched warily, unsure whether he dared speak. Something in Jace's eyes warned him it would be unwise to choose the wrong words here, a dangerous sparkle flickering in the golden flecks around his iris. Eventually, after a ringing Silence, Jace spoke.  
"I woke up" He said, and his voice was soft and full of self loathing. "and she was gone, she wasn't with me so I called out for her, looked everywhere and I found this" He held up his hand, and in it was the Morgenstern right, the chain broken, as if it had been torn from the wearers neck.  
"Next to me."  
Alec stared at it in confusion, and without thinking said  
"But why would she be next to-"  
oh.  
Oh. Alec realised with a jolt what Jace had meant by "With me".  
He flushed Scarlett and felt his cheeks begin to burn. Luckily, Jace seemed too full of his own spiralling thoughts to notice. He was staring at the ring in blatant, undisguised horror. It was one of the rare times Alec saw Jace as he was, genuine. It brought him no pleasure to see him in this state, but some small part of him acknowledged that he, Alec, had been he first person Jace had thought to call. This part of him was swiftly crushed, however, as a door at the far end of the entrance hall swung open, revealing His sister, Isabelle, clad in a skimpy pyjama set, her hair pulled into a scruffy bun. Alec noted with some disapproval that those shorts were very short. He would have protested, but seeing as it was only him and Jace present, it hardly matter-  
And then the door swung open again, and the vampire walked through. His hair was ruffled and he was wrapped in an old robe and what appeared to be nothing else. Alec's Jaw dropped open as he stared from Isabelle to Simon and back again. The thought of Jace and Clary flew from his mind, replaced with a strong desire to punch simon repeatedly in the face.  
"What is he doing here?!" He heard a voice say, realising only a split second later that it it was in fact his own voice. It sounded strangely high pitched to his ears, and left a ringing silence echoing around the high ceiling, in which Isabelle, Jace and Simon all stared at him. One of Isabelle's dark, meticulously perfected eyebrows was raised in a high ark and behind her simon had frozen, a distinctly horrified look on his face as he stood, mouth hanging slightly open, at Alec. He looked quite gormless.  
"Seriously Alec, only bats could understand that. Bring it down a couple of decibels, its not even eleven yet." Isabelle's tone was light but her eyes flicked from Alec to simon, as if calculating how fast she would have to be if Alec decided to go for simon.  
Not fast enough. Alec thought with malice, but before he could act on this thought Jace moved, quick as a cat, blocking Simon from Alec's view. Alec moved his eyes up to meet with Jace's incredulously. Isabelle was practically Jace's sister too, surely he felt the same way, surely he too wanted to rip him limb from-  
And then he met Jaces distraught gaze, and he remembered.  
Clary.  
Alec was by no means done with that vampire, but as much as it pained him to admit it, there were bigger things at stake here.  
"I thought you were at Magnus's?" Isabelle said, almost apologetically to Alec.  
"He was." Said Jace, before Alec could respond. "I called him here. It's Clary-" Jace broke off mid-sentence and Alec took up the rest  
"Clary's gone missing." Alec said, then immediatly regretted it. He had never had Jace's eloquence, and the way he had said it made it sound as casual as if she had gone for jaunt to central park.  
There was a long, shocked silence, and to Alec's suprise it was Simon who broke it.  
"She's gone?" He asked, and his voice sounded almost as broken as Jace's  
"But, I mean- You must have some Idea where she is? Who was she with, when did she go, what was-" Simon began to blurt questions and his voice was becoming panicked and desperate.  
Jace cut through his monologue, his tone flat and resigned  
"Me." he said simply, his voice full of self loathing. "She was with me."  
Issabelle stared at Jace, and her huge brown eyes were glistening as the light from the stained windows shone across her face. Tears began to roll gently down her face and she moved towards him, her arms outstretched.  
"Oh, Jace" she said softly, bringing him into her in an embrace.  
Jace stood rigidly, not acknowledging Isabelle at all.  
Simon was now in clear view of Alec, and Alec purposefully avoided looking at him, he didn't think his big brotherly restraint stretched that far.  
"What happened?" Simon asked, looking at Jace's hollow expression.  
"I don't know." Jace said flatly.  
Simon stared at him for the longest time, and when he spoke his voice was loud full of incredulity.  
"What do you mean you don't know! Did she just spontaneously vanish or was it a gradual transition to invisibility? How couldn't you have noticed? Having a nap, were we?!" His voice had risen to an accusatory shout, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting down on Jace like shards of glass. Jace turned to simon and his golden eyes focused for the first time.  
"Yes, actually." He said coldly.  
Isabelle let go of Jace and rounded on Simon, her dark eyebrows knotted in anger.  
"Simon!" reprimanded him, her voice matching his tone.  
Simon stared at her, then at Jace, and then finally, to Alec. His dark eyes were full of fear and anger. Alec noticed that his hands were bunched into shaking fists, and he seemed to be restraining from launching himself onto Jace. Jace probably wouldn't have stopped him if he had, the state he was in. But Alec would. Some small part of him was hoping Simon would lose it and give Alec and excuse to ram his fist-  
But that was a selfish part of him, and he could deal with his sister frivolous activities later, right now it was Jace who needed help.  
"Simon" said Alec, and despite his calm voice, there was a tone that promised violence would ensue if Simon did not listen . "Perhaps you should go cool down, let the family talk?"  
Simon stared at Alec, eyes blazing. For a moment he considered refusing, considered fighting Alec, considered ripping his skin and drinking his fresh, warm-  
Simon moved without realising, and before he knew it he was on top of alec, his teeth needle sharp and bearing down over Alec's exposed neck. Simon could see blood pulsing beneath Alec's pale skin. and then he felt a pang of pain, like an electric shock, and he was thrown off Alec and across the room, Isabelle's golden whip wrapped around his torso.  
Simon blinked and his stomach rumbled. He looked around him and saw what must have happened. He had attacked Alec. Alec, his friend. Simon opened his mouth, to apologise or to cry out in pain he wasn't sure. All too late he remembered his pointed teeth and as he opened his mouth Isabelle drew back her whip and prepared to strike again. It was Alec who moved this time, throwing himself in front of Izzy and murmuring something to her. After a moment he moved and simon could see she had lowered the weapon. simon wondered vaguely where she had been hiding that, she certainly hadn't had it on her earlier-  
and then he noticed her face. It was contorted in a look of disgust.  
Hatred  
Simon realised with a sickening jolt. S  
he hated him. He didn't blame her, For what he had done, he deserved it. For what he was, he deserved it.  
"Izzy I-" Simon started pleadingly, his voice a moan of pain.  
But Isabelle cut him off before he could finish his plea.  
What was he going to say anyway  
Sorry I got the munchies for your brother?  
"Get out." she said, her voice shaking with barely contained rage.  
"Get out you filthy Downworlder, and never come near me or my family again or I swear I will shove a stake through your unbeating heart." She put extra emphasis on the word "Downworlder", as if it were something filthy and unclean, as if he wasn't simon, her friend.  
He knew he had to get away, he wasn't safe, not when he was this hungry. He had to remember to feed, it was his own fault. He wouldn't accept his loss of humanity and as a result he was becoming a monster. He had to get away from the accusatory glares of the Lightwoods, had to clear his head, had to feed. He got shakily to his feet and moved towards the door. When he reached the great wooden door he paused. he could feel their eyes upon him, trusting, fearful. Without looking back, he moved through the door and vanished from view.  
Jace, who had not spoken during the entire event turned to face Alec. His eyes were focused now, pupils dilated with adrenaline. He no longer looked empty, or shocked or even afraid. His mouth was a grim slash and his eyes twinkled with something unidentifiable, more than the adrenaline. He looked determined, and very, very dangerous. When he spoke his voice was a low, steady growl.  
"I know where she is."


	4. Chapter 4

Simon had moved on instinct after leaving the institute, heading straight for the apartment. His hands were shaking as he slid the key into the silver lock and his breath was ragged. he had had to keep his mouth clamped tightly shut to hide his needle like teeth. When he was this hungry, there was no hiding what he truly was. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth with a salty tang as the teeth cut into his lip like razors. His throat was dry as he pushed his way into the apartment. It was silent inside, apparently Maia and Jordan were out somewhere.  
Simon moved towards the fridge with lightning speed, uncapping a bottle of chilled blood and pouring it into his mouth in a desperate frenzy. He gulped the bottle down in a matter of seconds and reached for another. The rich taste was nowhere near as satisfying as Isabelle's had been, _as Alec's would have-_  
Simon cut the train of thought before it could venture into regions he desperately wanted to avoid. He licked his lips, catching the last traces of blood from his lips as he turned towards his bedroom. He threw the bottles into the bin as he passed and moved towards the door covered in various posters. He pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Clothes were strewn across the floor and the sheets were crumpled at the end of the bed. He bent to pick them up and as he straightened up his eyes caught his reflection in the small mirror that hung on his wall. A gaunt, pale face stared back at him. His eyes were shadowed by rings and although he no longer felt the sharp pangs in his stomach his brow was crumpled and his face seemed pained.  
He had to find a way to help Clary.  
Even if Jace and the others wouldn't take him with them, he had to do something. He couldn't just sit here quietly waiting for them to come up with a plan. But what could he do? A single, untrained vampire. He no longer bore the mark of Cain, his single weapon was gone. He had never thought he would miss the curse Clary had emblazoned on to his forehead what seemed like years ago. But he had to confess It would have come in handy for what he planned to do next.  
He needed help, he needed a plan. He couldn't go to Jocelyn, the last thing he needed was a hysterical mother on his hands. I already have one of those. He thought bitterly. No, running to parents would not help at all. So that rules out Maryis. Simon silently thanked his lucky stars. Maryis seemed like a good person, and she must have been a good mother to have raised Alec and Izzy, but Simon couldn't prevent the nervous somersaults that materialised every time he saw her severe features in his minds eyes. He imagined how she would react if he, a Downworlder strolled into the institute.  
_Hey, you don't know me very well but I'm the vampire who's dating your daughter, also I attacked your son and drank your adopted sons blood once, any chance of a hand?_  
Simon shuddered at the thought. So that left only one option. He could not call on the werewolves-Luke would find out immediately and then it would be a straight game over. That ruled out Jordan and Maia too, the last thing he needed was the Praetor snooping around. So that only left one option. Jace wasn't going to like it, that was for sure. Simon wasn't too keen himself, but he had no other choice. Nowhere else to turn. Just like Raphael had warned him. Without stopping to think Simon grabbed his jacket from where it hung on the chair and with a surge of regret realised it was one of the ones Isabelle had picked out for him. He ignored the feeling and pulled it on over his crumpled shirt before turning to leave the apartment. He would find Raphael. He would save Clary, no matter what the cost.

Isabelle dressed at high speed, pulling a hairbrush through her long dark hair and smoothing it into a tight pony tail that ended halfway down her back. Clad in her black Shadowhunter gear with her huge dark eyes and inky hair she looked beautiful, and lethal. Of course Isabelle always had a deadly kind of beauty about her. She marvelled and Clary's soft curls and gentle smile. She was so tiny and delicate that femininity simply radiated out of her. Isabelle however was all defined, as if someone had switched from a sepia lens to high definition. Everything from the curve of her waist to the line of her nose was sharp and clear. Of course, she knew she was stunning, but she had never possessed the gentle beauty that was associated with most girls. No one had ever made Izzy feel precious, or protected, the way Jace guarded Clary, as if she were his prised possession, as if she were so very breakable and strong at the same time. No one except Simon.  
Simon treated Isabelle as if she were breakable. He saw the cracks in her façade of strength , and he guarded them, keeping her safe in his own way. And then Isabelle remembered the razor like shards of teeth inches from Alec's neck. The snarling hiss as he moved in to tear his neck open. The warm glow she had began to feel of the thought of simon drained out of her, sending shivers down her spine. She turned to her dressing table to reach for her whip. As she picked it up, something pink and fluffy fell from the side and shattered onto the floor. Izzy cursed colourfully and bent to pick it up. As she moved closer she saw what it was. A picture of Simon and herself from a few months ago. Simon sat reading one of his dorky cartoon books whilst Izzy lay, head of his lap with her huge brown eyes staring up at him. She stared at the dorky smile on simon's familiarly pale face. His glasses askew and his hand rested gently and yet somehow possessive on the top of her leg. She felt her eyes begin to burn with tears and before she could begin crying she turned around and strode back out into the corridor without looking back.

"What the hell took you so long!" Asked Jace Impatiently as Alec tuned to face her, stuffing something into his pocket hastily. Isabelle noted with surprise that whilst Alec was clad in the black leather of shadow-hunter gear, Jace had remained in his grey shirt and town jeans. Surely he didn't plan to go...wherever they were going in only that. She understood, possibly better than most, the death wish Jace seemed to have, but this seemed purely suicidal.  
"Here" Alec said, extending his arm and passing her a gold dagger which he appeared materialise from nowhere. Izzy took it and nodded her thanks, choosing to ignore Jace's angry outburst.  
Jace scowled at her lack of response and opened his mouth, probably to make another cutting comment.  
"If Jace is right" said Alec quickly, preventing a fight "and Sebastian has Clary, then there's only one way we can track him."  
Izzy looked from Alec to Jace, confused. There was no way to track Sebastian, the Clave had been trying for months and still nothing. How did three teenage Shadowhunters expect to succeed where and entire government had failed?  
Jace spoke softly, his eyes on Isabelle, his voice cautious, but with an unfamiliar flat monotone quality. He tapped his chest lightly as he said;  
"All we have to do, is reactivate the rune."


	5. Chapter 5

Before Clary even opened her eyes she could tell something was wrong. She could not feel Jace beside her, could not sense the familiar rise and fall of his chest whilst he slept. The soft, crisp sheets of the bed beneath her were gone, replaced with a heavy blanket that pressed her into the hard mattress and encased her in a musty smell. It was the smell of age and it was unfamiliar to her. She opened her eyes, still bleary from sleep and blinked. She could see nothing but pitch black. For a moment Clary began to panic, a rising sense of claustrophobia surged to her head and swirled around her mind, crushing all rational though. She forced her breathing to steady and closed her eyes, willing calm upon herself. She sat, slowing her heart and clearing her head for what could just have easily been second, minutes or hours. Clary opened her eyes again, and after a few moments of rapid blinking her eyes seemed to adjust to the darkness. She could make out the end of the bed, and the high frame that surrounded her and trapped her in its dark folds of material. She lay in a four poster bed that jutted out into a room of such grandeur that even in the desperate darkness clary was astounded by its decadence. There was a beautiful victorian stone fireplace that decorated the wall opposite her. It was all gold with spiralling intricacies carved painstakingly into the hard surface. Clary could not make out what the carvings depicted, and, as beautiful as this feature of her unfamiliar and potentially dangerous surroundings were, it was not her priority at the moment. She swung her legs out of the bed before remembering with a hot flush that she was not wearing anything after...last night. And the memories came surging back to her, unclouded by a sleepy haze now.  
Jace, her, the roof...  
But to her surprise, she found she was wearing a plain white cotton dress that stopped midcalf. Clary, however, was less concerned with clothing choice and much more with who had put her in this, and why? He stood and her feet made contact with the floor. It was cold stone, and Clary's feet tingled, protesting against the rapid change in temperature. She shivered but kept moving, her hands out before her cautiously in case of and unseen dangers. Her hands found the wall and as she ran her fingers over the walls searchingly she felt the rough, dry wallpaper beneath her fingertips. It crackled slightly under the pressure and even the slight noise in the silent room startled her. She steeled her nerves and continued to explore desperately for some kind of-  
aha  
She thought triumphantly. She had found a small switch that was at about eye level with her. she flicked it quickly, silently praying that it would bring some illumination to her pitch black prison.  
The lights flickered on, basking the previously darkened room in artificial light. Clary made a small noise of surprise as her eyes burned, once again adjusting reluctantly, this time to the brightness the sconces that hung on each wall, allowing the room to come into focus.  
It was a grand room, there was no doubt about it. It had a high ceiling and simply ooozed wealth and almost royality. It would not be right to say it had been decorated in the style of the victorian era, as by the look of the ancient mahogany furniture and cracked wallpaper-it really had been decorated last some hundred years earlier. Clary stared around her, combing the room in hope of some clue as to where she was and why.  
Nothing.  
An impressive looking wardrobe stood on the wall beside her, carved in much the same detail as the fireplace and, now clary looked, the bed. The red mahogany was detailed with leaves that appeared to be curling and tumbling. The rich wood reminded clary of autumn and the crisp leaves that fell around the grounds of the institute. She turned away, now was not the time to be admiring woodwork. She needed to get out. Her eyes caught a door on the far wall and with a exclamation she ran to it, her hands urgently curling around the crystal door knob. she turned and pulled ferociously in her panic, and perhaps she had not been expecting it to open, because as it swung open under her forceful hand she let out another noise of surprise. She tumbled head first out of the room and fell straight to the ground. The floor beneath her was hard and she connected with it face first. Her nose crushed into the ground and she felt blood begin to trickle down her face. She cursed colourfully and made to get up, before she felt cold hands on her, pulling her up and a soft, purring laugh.  
She would have recognised it anywhere. It echoed through her nightmares and crept its way into her waking hours. It was always with her, she would never forget, and she would never forgive.

"Graceful as ever, sister." It purred like a panther and hissed like a snake. Animalistic,wild, vicious.

Sebastian.

_  
Magnus stepped out the shower in a haze of sandalwood scented steam. He breathed deeply and wrapped a towel around his waist before swinging the bathroom door open and crossing to the spare room. Since Alec moved in, there had been no need for the second bedroom and so Magnus had set about deciding what was to be done with it. At first, he had intended it to be a joint decision-the first couple-y thing they would do together in their apartment, But Alec has protested to Magnus's suggestions of a room for chairman meow, a meditation foor and last but not least, a love nest-  
Magnus smiled as he recalled the look on Alec's face when he had suggested this.  
_"What the hell even is a love nest?!"_ Alec had demanded after choking out some coffee.  
Magnus had rolled his eyes at Alec's extreme reaction and said  
_"Well, you know. Its a nest...for...loving."_ Magnus had wiggled his eyebrows at that and Alec had shook his head, unable to prevent a small smile from playing on his lips.  
In the end they had decided simply to keep it as a spare room for guests-namely Simon and Izzy when they came to stay. This explained the presence of two single beds cramped tightly at either end of the small room. Alec had insisted on it, despite Magnus's protests that it would  
"_Spoil the dynamic of the room."_  
_"As long as thats the only thing getting spoiled."_ Alec had said with unbudgeable finality. Magnus forgot how forceful Alec cold be when he wanted to, and so here they were, two single beds pushed as far from one another as humanly-or even magically possible.  
It wasn't as if Magnus had completely lost out-He had been permitted to keep additional clothes in the dresser here, and so it was for this reason that he entered the room and pulled open the draws.  
He selected a plain white shirt and partnered in with a pair of shockingly tight leather pants, finishing the outfit off with a wave of body glitter and gelling his hair into shc=ocking spikes that stuck out rather like a demented hedgehog. He was on his way downstairs to the kitchen when his phone rang.  
He plucked it out from his breast pocket, for the trousers were far to tight to have pockets for phones creating anymore near obscene bulges and answered it  
"Magnus Bane, fair fine and fabulous High Warlock of Brooklyn. Also known for his perfect hair and dazzling-"  
"Magnus" Alec's voice cut him off. His voice was low and filled with danger. Magnus was instantly filled with a sense of foreboding. Whatever he was about to say, It wasn't going to be good.  
Alec quickly explained what had happened, giving a brief overview of the events that had occurred in the last hour. Magnus had been right, this was very, very bad.  
"I'll be there in ten." Magnus had said, and hung up. There was a time when he had resented running after Alec and his foolish group of nephilim, but now they were as much his friends as they were Alec's, well, maybe not Jace, but you can have everything. He emptied out a pot of very expensive caviar into chairman meows bowl and left the apartment, not even bothering for a second wave of glitter.


	6. Chapter 6

It had taken everything Jace had to convince Izzy and Alec to go through with what Isabelle described as  
"Just another of your stupid suicide missions."  
But Izzy and Alec were amongst those who knew him best, and the look in his eyes when he had told them he would do this, with or without their help had somehow convinced them.  
_Not_  
thought Jace with grim satisfaction  
_that they were happy about it._  
Izzy sat on the chair opposite him in the kitchen, arms crossed and scowling with a look that would make a ravenor demon think twice before approaching. Normally Jace would have tried to win her over with his signature wit, or else laughed her temper away. Instead he sat, quite still, his eye cast downwards, rolling the morgenstern ring between his calloused fingers.  
Clary would never have taken it off. She wore it so often that Jace could not picture her customary red curls and piercing emerald eyes without it.`He pictured her now, dancing with him on the night of Jocelyn's wedding in her coppery bridesmaid dress, the silver ring hanging delicately between her collarbones, rising and falling with her chest as she breathed. It was all so vivid. Every memory Jace had of Clary was clear and focused. Looking at her was like waking up, like golden fire in the sea of smoke that made up the rest of the world. When she was there, there was nothing but her. And now she was gone, and the nothing became all consuming, swallowing Jace up like darkness and cutting him like blades of ice.  
Alec's phone buzzed loudly-breaking through Jace's sea of thoughts.  
"Magnus?" Alec answered it urgently, his hand gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles went white.  
"Okay, I'll come and let you in." Alec hung up and stuffed the phone into his belt, not looking at Jace as he spoke.  
"He's here." He said curtly as he walked out, isabelle following closely behind him. Jace watched them go before getting to his feet. He tucked the ring into his jeans pocket, running his hand over it, reassuring himself it wa safe.  
_I will return it to her._

He thought, shutting off his thoughts before they could wander into his nightmares once again.

The Hotel Dumort had not much improved since Simon's last visit. He recalled it with shuddering clarity. Teeth, claws and blood. Lots of blood. Simon wetted his lips nervously and drowned out the memory. The last thing he needed was to make himself more afraid, Vampires could smell fear like hounds. It pulsated of people, radiated out of their every pore.  
It smelt like salt and sweat and adrenaline.  
Simon shook his head, clearing it as he approached the darkened front door.

It swung open with an ominous creek that almost made Simon roll his eyes.  
Vampires He thought, with a lilt of amusement that did not suit the situation he was entering.  
Raphael had as good has threatened to murder him, and now, without the mark of Cain to protect him, he was playing a risky game. He only hoped Raphael needed what he had to offer as much as Simon was banking on.  
As the door swung open the scent of rotting flesh and blood filled his nostrils and he almost gagged as the foul odour hit the back of his throat. He recoiled, eyes watering, half choking on bile. After coughing up an unpleasant red tinted bile Simon straightened up. Something was wrong here. The hotel had never been the kind of place that would light up a jostick or even an occasional spray of air freshener, but it had never bee like this. As simon made his way up the stairs his eyes wandered around him, searching for some sign of skulduggery. Nothing-the place was empty. This was not normal. By now, Simon should be swarmed by hordes of hungry vampires.  
A low groan filled simons ear an he spun. The noise had come from behind him, just as he reached the top step. Sure enough, a door on the ground floor stood slightly ajar, a trail of red and scratches in the wood that looked like the path of fingernails. Simon hurried down the stairs and cautiously approached the room, eyes fixed on the door  
Another noise came now, closer and louder than before. It was strained and clearly in pain  
"_Mierda_" The voice cursed softly and Simon recognised it instantly.  
_Raphael._  
Simon pushed the door open urgently and moved inside. His mouth dropped open in horror as his eyes took in the scene before him. Raphael was lying on the floor, tied to posts with thick bloodstained rope. He lay in the centre of the room, light pouring down from the ceiling all over his body. His nut brown skin was covered in hideous red blisters, his handsome features contorted in pain.  
Why hadn't he burnt? Direct exposure to sunlight like this should have turned any vampire to a heap of steaming ashes in seconds. And then Simon noticed it- a thin sheet that stretched over the light, acting as a barrier between Raphael and the sunlight. Designed to prolong suffering-a torture designed specifically for vampires.  
Simon was frozen to the spot, unable to move, to help. He let out a small noise of horror Raphiael turned his head with clear effort, a groan escaping his cracked swollen lips. Bone dry. Simon remembered the searing pain of hunger against his throat. Raphael made a rasping noise as his eyes cloudy with pain focused on simon.  
"Daylighter."  
His voice was a horrible rasping sound that echoed through the room and brought Simon back to his senses. He blinked and moved towards Raphael, though he was unsure what he intended to do. On the one hand, freeing raphael meant releasing a danger to the streets of manhattan, but on the other, Simon doubted Raphael would be a danger to anyone in the state he was in. And Simon needed him, he was his only way to save Clary.  
Simon spun around, searching for something to cut the ropes and release raphael. Raphael moaned again, something that sounded like;  
Please  
Simon turned back to him desperately  
"How do I break it?!" Simon's voice sounded panicked and unfamiliar to his ears.  
"Use...your..teeth." Each word seemed to draw some unseen pain from the boys chest and here, now, Simon could almost see the 15 year old boy beneath the immortal curse. Simon blinked in surprise and moved towards him. He was unwary of the sunlight that shone down. He was a daylighter, and so even though the rays of sunlight did not fill him with the warmth he remembered, he was inwardly thankful for his powers.  
Simon moved over Raphael, and leant over him, his face inches from the ropes. He could smell charred flesh and the coppery tang of blood. His heightened senses tingled in revolution and he forced himself not to examine the ropes to closely. He allowed his second set of teeth to slice through his gums and bit down on the rope. The thin white razor blades cut through the ties holding Raphael to the ground. Simon moved to allow Raphael to pull his arms free.  
Raphael did not move, and for an awful moment, Simon felt sure he had lost him. Then he groaned again and Simon realised if he wanted raphiel to move, he would have to move him himself. Simon leant down and scooped the boy up in his arms. Raphael cried out an awful gurgling sound and Simon winced as he coughed blood into Simon's chest, splattering his jacket with blood.  
Isabelle will be distraught.  
Simon winced as the memory of her face came back to him. Her features swirled in his mind. Her radiant smile, her tinkling laugh, like bells. He remembered her face when he had told her that, how he loved to hear her laugh. And just for a moment, her eyes had gone wide with surprise, surprise and something else. Love? Before she could pass it off as a joke or punch his arm none-too-gently and moan about cliches he had kissed her. He remembered the warmth of her lips and the taste of roses and vanilla that he only associated with Izzy. He remembered running his fingers through her silky black hair and her body tensing against his in surprise. Kissing Izzy wasn't like kissing anyone else-It wasn't safe or familiar, but new and exciting and vibrant.  
Raphael muttered and Simon was brought out of his daydreams painfully. The look on Izzy's face at the institute flashed in his mind, full of hatred. He closed his eyes, composing himself before turning and carrying Raphael to the door.  
There was no way Simon could heal Raphael in this state, and the wounds were even beyond Raphael's natural powers. He needed Warlock action. His first thought was Magnus Bane, but if he involved Magnus he could bet that Alec and the others would soon follow, and angry shadowhunters were the last thing he needed.  
_No._  
There had to be other Warlocks in Manhattan. Simon would find one, and then he would find Clary.

Okay guys, What did you think?! Reviews wuld be amazing? Thankyou so much for reading and following, I promise to update soon :D x


	7. Chapter 7

Clary fumbled as she was pulled back to her feet, she turned, spitting wild curls out of her mouth with a violent hissing noise.  
"Now, now, no need to act like that."  
Sebastian's voice was edged with amusement and layered with a triumphance that infuriated Clary even more.  
"We're Shadowhunters, Clary, not downworld werewolf muck."  
His hands were cool and as the righted herself and lingered far longer than necessary on the small of her back. She shuddered in revulsion and squirmed away, but the gesture seemed only to amuse Sebastian further as a smirk painted his pale face. Clary stared at him for the first time in three months. His face was unchanged, the same high cheekbones and cruel mouth. The same eyes like coal and ink, so black Clary could see her own dishevelled profile reflected in them. They twinkled as Clary realised she had been staring at him for over ten seconds. She blinked and looked down, then back up, breaking the intensity that had been building moments before.  
"Where am I, Johnathon?"  
Clary spoke calmly, though she felt nothing of the sort. Hysteria would not help her here. Sebastian was faster and stronger than her, the best thing she could do was gather information in the hope of finding some way out.  
Clary's words had certainly made some impact on Sebastian. His previously curled lip had twitched downwards in distaste, and his eyes had lost their twinkling mirth.  
"That is not my name. You know the name I go by now."  
"_Sebastian_"  
Clary spat, as if the name itself were a vile curse. And he was. He was the curse that had plagued her since the moment they had met in Idris. It seemed like years ago, when they had stood outside the Wayland Manor House, when he had kissed her. His hair had been dark and he had a different identity then, but it had still sickened her then just as it sickened her now, the feel of his body close to hers, his breath echoing in her ears.  
"Yes?" The vicious smile had reappeared at the sound of his name in his sisters soft tones.  
"Where am I? How did I get here? What are you-"  
"tsk-tsk" Sebastian tutted at her as if she were a petulant child.  
"So many questions."  
He purred as he moved closer to her, pressing her against the wood panelling of the corridor. The door of her room had closed behind her, leaving only a thin slither of light to illuminate her surroundings. She flattened her small frame against the wall, keeping herself from touching him. The smell of citrus and heavy cologne filled her nose and she breathed deeply, hoping to steady her heart which had begun beating a staccato rhythm against her chest once again. The sound of her blood rushing filled her ears and she blinked, trying to regain control.  
"Then answer one."  
Clary's voice sounded strained to her own ears, and apparently Sebastian heard it too, because his smirk turned to a predatory grin. She could see very little of him in the dark but his teeth stood out white in the black of the corridor, like a shark in murky waters.  
Sebastian opened his mouth, his lips forming words but before he could speak the lights flickered on, revealing the scene.  
"Mr Morgenstern."  
The voice was cut through the moment like a sword, and quick as lightning, Sebastian stepped back from where he had been standing moments before, obscenely close to Clary. His head spun in a whirl of silver white hair. Clary blinked and turned to look in the direction Sebastian's head was turned.  
The woman whom the voice had originated from was small, with plain brown hair and grey eyes. She had an ageless face that could have been 25 or 50. Her eyes, cold and calculating were fixed on Sebastian and shrewd expression.  
"Mrs Merrywright."  
Sebastian's voice was silky and composed, all traces of teasing gone. In the light she could study him closely for the first time. He was clad in a plain white shirt that was thin enough to show the dark lines of his marks below its fabric. His trousers were black and hung low on his hips, revealing a strip of pale skin and curling runes between the fabrics. The contrast between his casual dress and the women's formal buttoned up shirt and black skirt was almost comical. She looked as though she was off to work in an office rather than involved in the business of trapping young girls and fraternising with a half demon Shadowhunter with murderous tendencies. The woman's eyes flickered towards Clary and her brow furrowed, revealing lines that had not been there moments before.  
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to give Miss Morgenstern some of the attire we purchased for her, she can hardly meet the enclave in that." Her eyes raked Clary's thin dress critically but Clary was too busy deciphering the words she had uttered to be self conscious.  
The enclave. She thought back to her history lessons in the institute. And suddenly the memory surged upon her in a wave of realisation.  
The enclave was the london branch of the Clave. So that meant... She was in London? He mind spun in a panic. Miles away from home, Miles away from her mother, her friends, Jace.  
"Of course." Sebastian turned to her as the woman walked away down the seemingly never ending corridor. Her heels clicked against the stone floor like the ticking of a clock. Clary was entranced by its repetitive noise, the certainty of the next click was the only regular thing in her life at the moment, even her heart was beating unevenly.  
"Come on then, we've got a whole wardrobe for you. We've been preparing for a long time, you know. Everyone's waiting on the girl with the magic runes." He traced a vague shape in the air with a slender finger as he finished, his eyes mocking once again.  
Clary stood, rooted to the spot and after a moment Sebastian made an impatient noise and spoke again  
"You can come with me, or I can drag you kicking and screaming down this hallway address you myself. And you wont like that" His grin was wicked, eyes sparking with black flames. "But I just might."  
His sultry tones awoke a sense of foreboding in Clary and she focused on him for the first time in what felt like hours. She studied his face and knew he was not lying. She remembered how he had been that night, his hands on her, his lips against hers. Half demented with passion he had been unreachable. She reluctantly moved forward, indicating her compliance and as she moved she thought she saw a fleeting flicker of disappointment across his sharpened features. And then it was gone, as quickly as it had materialized. He stepped forward, taking the lead and moving with the natural grace of a shadowhunter. Clary hurried along behind him, her feet moving rapidly to keep up with Sebastian's long paces.  
Sebastian turned abruptly and navigated through the maze of passageways with the air of someone who had done it a does times before. Clary wondered inwardly how long he had been here, and why he was being protected by the enclave. Outwardly however, she had more pressing questions.  
"Why am I here, Sebastian? If the enclave wanted a meeting they could have arranged one. What are you even doing here, you belong in a cell in the Silent City."  
Sebastian simply laughed, his voice echoing back to her from where he walked, a few steps ahead. The noise has ghostly quality in the empty old passageways and sent a chill down her spine and as he spoke she shuddered under the thin nightdress.  
"The enclave could hardly call a meeting for what they intend to use you for. and as for the silent city, well I'm just far to valuable to be locked away in some dingy old cellar with only old zombies for company." At his his stopped abruptly, and Clary proceeded to walk into his back and stumble backwards and onto the floor. Sebastian made an irritated noise and turned to face her.  
"Really Clary, at my feet twice in ten minutes, this is getting ridiculous. Perhaps we shall have to do something about it." His eyes sparked as his hand flitted out towards her, outstretched towards her. She scowled the gesture and scrambled to her feet unaided. Sebastian rolled his eyes and turned back to the door at which he had stopped. It was much the same as all others, a plain wooden handle and mahogany detail etched into the door. Sebastian wrapped his hand around the handle and Clary saw with Morgenstern ring glint around his thin finger. Instinctively she brought her hand up to her own neck, where her own ring dangled, a gift from Jace. Her fingers sought out the comforting metal but found nothing but her own cold flesh. It had gone, her only tie to the world back home, with its familiar noise and the light of manhattan. The door swung open under Sebastian's hand and he stepped back, his arm outstretched gracefully, indicating her to enter. She quelled her tears and feeling of uncertainty and moved forward, too curious to be cautious, into the room. As she stepped into the room she gasped in suprise.  
This was certainly not what she had expected...

Sooo, what did you think? Reviews please?! thanks so much, I will update soon! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Seasons of love-

Okay Guys, first, thankyou for reading this so much! It's kind of in honour of the Cory Monteith episode of Glee. I'm not a Glee watcher but watched this episode and I heard a song I absolutely adored- "Season's of Love". This is based around that! I'll shush now and let you read, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing! thanks!

P.S Please REVIEW! That would be great to see what you think about where this piece is gong, and what you'd like to see!

The warm summer had gifted the tree's surrounding the institute with their yearly legacy of new green leaves, and now the autumn had come to reclaim its beauty, for the life it gave could only be loaned, never kept. It brought with it an unavoidable sense of loss that tainted even the summertime when the leaves and blossoms bloomed. Jace knew how this felt, understood the feeling of foreboding loss and yet the undeniable lure of something as sweet as summer, as sweet and the flowers and the tree's, and as sweet as Clary. Jace closed his eyes and allowed the seasons of his love to wash over him, the warmth of Clary's skin touching his as the summer fleeted through him, filling him with the undeniable feeling of strength she brought. The musical sound of her giggling laugh as light as the spring and eyes as green as grass. Her amber hair was the withered leaves, former pride of the tree's crunching as they crushed underfoot. And now the winter was here, and his memories of Clary had been burdened with a layer of frost, silencing his heart and wracking his body with aching pains of loss that penetrated his mind and shrouded it in an impermeable mist to which only Clary's presence could clear. He curled into himself on the soft grass and dug his strong, calloused fingers into the earth, pulling desperately at the blades of grass as if to anchor himself back to the word, back into his own body which seemed to have been possessed by his grief.

Slowly, tentatively he unfurled himself and got to his feet. Despite everything, his eyes were dry. The reminder that the remnants of a broken boy still existed inside him, clinging on to desperate tendrils of his past. The reminder that he was still, inspite of it all, Valentines son.

He composed himself, he had gone for a walk in the grounds whilst the others prepared for the process. Jace suspected the whole process took much less _"preparation_" than Magnus had made out and that they had decided that perhaps allowing him some time would change his mind. But Jace was determined he would not be moved nor swayed. He knew the rune would draw him to Sebastian, and therefore Clary. He could not explain the surety he felt, but some connection, some instinct burned inside him like the heavenly fire that had long since been extinguished by the silent brothers. When he had been bonded, Alec and Izzy could track him, and he would lead them straight to Clary.  
He let out a single shuddering breath and steadied himself. His hands were no longer shaking and his outward signs of weakness seemed to have been eradicated. He felt like the old Jace, before Clary, who hid himself away and projected only a steely outer shell to the rest of the world. Clary had been the only cure for him, and now she was gone and he felt himself slowly fading.

It was a strange sensation, to feel someone elses pain. Alec studied the feeling as if he were some omniscient being, a third party on a private moment of weakness only Jace could truly understand. He tried to ignore the feeling building in his gut and focused his attention instead on Magnus. His back was turned to Alec and he appeared to be rummaging through a large black case for something. Alec studied the familiar set of his shoulders, muscular but slender, with a slight jaunty lilt that allowed his head to sit proudly upon them. His hair was dark and gelled up at impressive ninety degree angles to his head and the particles of glitter shimmered in the sunlight that seeped through the windows. Magnus remembered his first kiss with Magnus, remembered how it had been swiftly followed by his second kiss with Magnus. He smiled privately to himself, but the expression felt wrong partnered with the pit of jaces emotions residing in his stomach. He thought of how many times Magnus had seen a sunrise, thought about how many he was yet to say. Infinite, there would never be the sense of panic, sense of urgency in Magnus that Alec so often found haunting his consciousness.

Before he could stop himself, word poured out of his mouth in a torrent of emotion. Who's emotion, Alec was unsure, but they filled the room nevertheless.

"Will you still love me when I'm old?"

The words sounded childish and horribly needy even to his own ears. He flushed as Magnus froze, back still turned. Alec watched him, his previously relaxed body now tense and apprehensive. He immediately regretted his words. He shouldn't ask questions he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer too.

Slowly, deliberately, Magnus turned to face Alec. His eyes, flecked with gold and green were full of some unnamed intensity as he stared at Alec unreadably. His hands hung from the belt loops of his tight trousers and they began to swing as he moved forwards. He walked silently towards Alec, who was frozen, rooted to the spot in anticipation. Magnus stopped, his chest inches from Alec's own, eyes fixed on his. up close he would see the exact pattern of the gold against the emerald of Magnus's eyes. Alec was about to speak, to break the agonising silence with a muttered apology but then Magnus had wrapped his strong arms around him and pulled him close.  
Their lips collided like shooting stars, and an explosive sensation spread across Alec like wildfire. He had never kissed like this before, never been kissed like this. Magnus's kisses usually filled him up with warmth and washed away his anxieties. This kiss sent them shattering violently into the moment, burning so bright Alec felt sure white spots of light had danced across his closed eyelids. This kiss felt like the beginning, it felt like the end and it felt like every part in between that he had ever spent even close to Magnus. The brush of their hands on their first date, the quirk of Magnus's lips when he smiled, the feel of his body beside him as he slept each night. He was too stunned to respond, too stunned to even process. Before he could run his fingers through Magnus's hair, feel his burning skin beneath his hardened fingertips Magnus broke the kiss.

The simple movement called the end to some stirring feeling inside Alec and he simply stood, with a sense of even more loss and grief than he had felt moments before. It had been like a drug, heightening everything, intensifying every movement the pair of them made, unifying it as if they were one being. And now he needed leaned close in again, but this time allowed his mouth to draw close to Alec's ear. he felt Magnus's warm hands on his neck, drawing his hair back deftly with expert fingers.

His breath was warm and Alec suppressed a shiver as the sensation rushed over him. He cleared his mind with a concerted effort. Words were forming in his head, and he realised it was Magnus's voice whispering to him. He focused on them, willing his head to make sense of them.

"That..." He drawled "Depends. Will you still have that stamina rune?" Alec felt Magnus grin a wickedly as he traced the exact place the rune was carved into Alec's flesh, just below the navel.

Alec couldn't help it, he laughed. The noise echoed through the room and at first it sounded out of place and alien, but as he continued he heard it joined by a second, more musical laugh.  
It was Magnus, beside him. His body quaked and rocked with mirth as the pair of them cracked up, smiles decorating both their faces. They laughed for what could have been hours, until their voices were hoarse and their bodies ached. And in the laughter all else was lost or forgotten. All the pain and hurt and fear and grief was set, if only temporarily at bay. eventually, the laughter subsided, and the two stood there silently, bodies close together. Close enough that when Magnus spoke next his whispered words could be heard barely by Alec.  
"I will always love you, Alexander Lightwood." The words were simple and honest and sent a tide of relief washing over Alec and settling him. Magnus pressed his forehead to Alec's, as if showing him how perfectly they fit. Alec closed his eyes soaked up the feeling of Magnus's skin upon his.

It was precisely then that the door swung open and Jace entered. The pair broke apart like a shattering glass as the crystalline pure moment was lost.  
Jace's face held an expression like thunder. His mouth was set in a grim slash and his brow creased above his golden eyes. He seemed totally unaware of the private moment he had just crushed with his presence.

"I'm ready" was all he said, and though he looked at Alec as he spoke, Alec felt his eyes pass through him, into some distant place only Jace could truly understand.


	9. Forget Me Not

Heya guys, sorry for the wait, super busy at school-Here's the next chapter-short I know but the next one will be coming up soon, and longer, I PROMISE! Review's would be awesome please? Thanks :D xx enjoy!

Simon surveyed his surroundings cautiously. He had found a warlock working on the corner street, distinguishable from the other young women offering various...services that he had found lingering eagerly on the street corners and dark alley ways of manhattan. He had told her about Raphael and she had agreed to help, for a price. Simon had wondered what kind of price she would demand. Money wasn't worth much to downworlders really, so it would have to be something more valuable.  
He was right. Just like Azazel, the warlock woman had wanted a memory from him. He had agreed out of desperations, and was clawing through his mind to find something worth her work.  
In the shadows he watched her spindly frame move, hearing the occasional clicking of her claws, deftly moving over Raphael's slumped figure. In the gloom simon could see only the occasional sparks of deeply coloured light illuminating the grimy surroundings. He had been waiting for nearly half an hour this way, and he was growing impatient. He had watched Magnus work before, mending injuries twice that were twice as severe three times as fast.  
"Isn't there anyway you an possibly, you know, hurry up?" Simon's echoed eerily through the hotel and the warlock froze, her body tensing.  
"I do not normally associate with your kind, nightcrawler, you should be thankful I am helping you at all." her voice was seedy and cold, and although her face and figure was young, her voice gave her age away.  
"Charming.2 Muttered Simon, and he fell back into silence, considering what memory he was prepared to give up.  
He thought about His childhood, how Clary and he had played together in the orchards by the lake. He thought about how he had loved her, the way he had felt about her for so long, the pain in her rejection. The memory still made him wince, but it was apart of him, and he would rather forget his own name than any precious moment around his best friend. So instead he turned his thoughts away from her soft laugh and freckles. The way the wind could bring out the red hue in her cheeks and the sun made her her look like spun gold. No, he didn't want to loose anything of her, not even her worst parts.  
He let his mind wander and it inevitably and most unwillingly fell to to Izzy. And suddenly her face was the most vivid thing in his mind. The only thing in his mind. He remembered her at the seelie court, her hair soaked and clothes plastered to her thin frame. The way the moonlight lit up behind her, giving her an eerily angelic glow, skin so pale it was almost translucent. Her chocolate brown eyes, huge and full of everything that made Isabelle the girl he loved.  
She was stronger than anyone he'd ever known, fiercely protective, fearlessly noble. A sister, a best friend, a daughter, a shadowhunter, a girl. The girl. No matter what she did, she believed in it. She was a book he had to open, had to read. She was excitement, not safe or warm or easy, but worthwhile. Isabelle Lightwood was better than anyone he had ever met, better than him, and that is what love was. Finding someone better than you, and holding on for dear life. And he loved her. He loved the way she laughed, the way she could cut you to ribbons with a single withering look. He loved the way she felt in his arms, not perfectly fit-but her own person. strong, unique, not made to fit his shape but to create a whole new one.  
Suddenly Simon felt a Rush of cold through him and he was jolted out of his thoughts. He blinked, disconcerted, his mind scattered. He drew himself up and took a deep breath, more out of reflex that necessity. Nevertheless it calmed him sufficiently and he turned. The warlock was facing him, her scaly claws wrapped around his shoulders and he suppressed a shudder of repulsion. Up close Simon could see her in more detail. She had thin, dark hair, matted with filth that stuck up at bizarre angles, as if she had been electrocuted. Her eyes were black rimmed and tired looking, sunken into her pale face and finished with a pinched nose. She might have been pretty once, but years of bad living and whatever it was that haunted her beetle black eyes had stolen it from her.  
"He will awake soon, but it will take time. I have done what I can"  
Simon nodded  
"Thank you."  
The warlock woman turned, her filthy ragged dress trailing behind her and she walked towards the door, not turning back.  
"Wait," Simon called after her "What about your memory?"  
By now The warlock had reached the entrance, and for a moment she paused on the threshold, he boot heel making an abrupt click on the wooden floor.  
She turned her head slightly and Simon could see her gaunt features had been pulled into a twisted grin, revealing a set of gnarled black stumps. Her laugh was stilted and croaky, but it brought Simon's skin out in involuntary goosebumps.  
And then she was gone, into the night.  
Simon stood, watching the spot where she had been moments before, considering this. Whatever she had taken, he would never know. Surely it couldn't have meant that much if he had allowed it to be taken? He threw the thought from his mind. He did not want to think about loss, not when he was so close to finding Clary.  
Raphael stirred, groaning as he awoke from his stupor. Simon moved to him like lightning, leaning over him. Whatever the warlock had done, it had worked. As raphaels eyelids fluttered open simon saw his eyes were no longer clouded with agony and his skin had regained its colour. well, what colour skin could have when no blood flowed through it.  
"Raphael?" Simon asked cautiously, willing the boy to reply.  
Raphaels mouth opened and he coughed violently. Blood and bile bubbled through his mouth and onto his filthy T-shirt. Simon moved back in repulsion, then steeled himself, moving closer and patting Raphaels back as he spewed out more of the thick, oozing crimson.  
After several minutes Raphael lifted his head and spoke hoarsely  
"Mierda, daylighter. What have you done to me?"  
"Me?" Simon asked incredulously. He cursed himself. If he wanted Raphael's help, he was going to have to play nice.  
"I saved you." Simon said bluntly.  
Raphaels laugh came halted and brought on another coughing fit.  
"You could not have done this. This is powerful healing magic." he slumped over his knees, curling into a ball like a small child, vulnerable.  
"I found you. You were tied down" Simon gestured to the ropes tied to the floor, still bloody from scored flesh.  
"I found a warlock, she healed you."  
Raphael watched him, processing this new information, his dark eyes watchful and contemptuous. Untrusting. Simon felt a surge of exasperation pulse through him. Vampires, he thought contemptuously, were possibly the least trusting race he had ever known, and that, partnered with a love for the dramatic, made them almost impossible to get along with. It was part of the reason Simon was so reluctant to join them. He still had people to live for, even if he was technically dead.  
"Why?" Raphael asked, his voice quiet.  
"I need your help" Simon began. Raphael looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an expansion. Simon took a deep breath and began to explain.  
Simon wasn't sure if it was due to his titillating story telling skills, or the simple fact that Raphael couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to, but he sat quietly, watching simon's lips move as he recalled the events of the day. Simon had never known the boy so quiet before, so when Simon finished and Raphael remained silent, Simon was unsettled. He was about to break the silence when Raphael spoke.  
"Mierdo, Daylighter. You should have a left me to burn."  
Simon stared at him incredulously, suddenly full of rage.  
"I saved you! I saved your worthless life you slimy little-"  
"I didn't say" Raphael spoke clearly, and with the smooth authority simon associated with Raphael. Somehow this dangerous tone set him more at ease that Raphaels broken, hoarse voice from moments before.  
"I wouldn't help you. I am bound now, you saved me daylighter, so I will help you."  
Simon breathed deeply and despite himself he grinned.  
"In return" Raphael started again in the same precise tones.  
"I want your help in taking down the new head of the clan. I hear she has somewhat of a soft spot for you." Raphael watched the grin slide from Simon's face and felt one spring onto his own features.  
"There's no accounting for taste." He finished, watching Simon intently.  
Simon considered the proposition. Whilst it was true he had known Marlene in her life. But then she had been a harmless 14 year old with a crush. Now she was a lethal vampire. Head of the new york clan. A murderer, trained by Camille herself.  
"It's a deal." Simon said, and held out his hand to Raphael.

Whaddya think? Any ideas where to go next? Thanks!


End file.
