Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments and contents (c) Cassandra Clare
Prologue
Washington DC, November 22nd, 1963
Emilia walked along the edge of the Reflecting Pool. The area was devoid of people. News of President Kennedy's death had spread like wildfire, having happened only four hours ago, and the country was in mourning. Emilia herself was even a bit down. Shadowhunters didn't normally involve themselves in mundane politics, but the Kennedys had been a breath of fresh air even for them.
She saw a glimpse of grey out of the corner of her eye. Her prey had made itself known. She dashed in its direction, knowing it would never be fast enough to outrun her. In typical vetis demon fashion, it stopped, distracted by something lying in the grass. She was only meters away now. Suddenly she collided with something, a person, and they both crashed to the ground. When she got a better glimpse at them, she saw it was boy, about seventeen as she was.
"I'm sorry," she heard him say as she struggled out from under him. Wait, he was apologizing? "Really, I am." His thick-rimmed glasses lay crooked on his nose.
"Wait, you can see me?" she said as she got into a kneeling position.
"What? Of course I can see—" he began to say, but Emilia was already back on her feet and again pursuing the demon, which had been frightened when she and the boy had collided. "Hey wait!" he called after her.
Emilia ascended the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in pursuit of her target. The vetis was trapped between her and the statue of Lincoln now. "Kemeul" she called, and her seraph blade roared to life. She swung at the creature, but it managed to leap over her, sending her crashing to the ground. She sprung back up and began to descend the steps of the Memorial, but stopped when she saw what the demon had been headed for. The boy from before.
When the demon reached him, he managed to grab hold of it. Emilia continued to descend the steps, and when she reached the boy, she swung at the demon with the seraph blade, sending it back to whatever dimension it had come from.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Emilia's voice was at a borderline scream. He may have helped her kill the demon, a demon that she was a bit disappointed in herself that could not kill it herself, but he was a mundane. A mundane that could see through her glamour.
"Well, you looked like you needed help." He answered. "I should be the one asking questions. What was that thing?"
Emilia checked the mendelin rune on her arm to see if it had faded. It was still there, meaning that this boy could see through her glamour.
"It was a demon," she said. Might as well be blunt. He had already seen more than the normal mundane.
"A de—"
"Shouldn't you be at home mourning or something?" Emilia cut him off.
"I was taking a walk, trying to clear my head."
"So you walked to the Lincoln Memorial to clear your head?"
"Yes." There was silence, and then he bombarded her with another question. "What are those marks on your skin?"
"It's hard to explain, so just go on home and forget this ever happened." She said and turned away. She didn't have to tell anyone back at the Institute about this mundane. If only he'd leave her alone. He grabbed her arm and turned her back to him.
"You're not doing a very good job at getting me uninterested."
"Well then, if you must know, your walk is going to be a lot longer than you intended."
He smiled. "Very well. Jack Carlyle." He held out his hand.
Emilia hesitated for a moment, and then shook his hand. "Emilia Fairchild."