Author's Note: Hello everyone! I am posting this as an apology for not updating Twisted Fantasy. I meant to update forever ago, and again last night, and...ugh. Between school and extra curricular activities, my life is super hectic right now. I have more homework than I expected, which means less time to write.

In any case, Chapter Three WILL be up on Thursday. I will post it by then, no extending deadlines, no stalling, nothing. I'll have it posted.

So, to make it up to you guys, this weekend you'll get a chapter spam. I have Friday off of school this week, and I am going to the Catching Fire premiere (EEEPP!) so expect lots of updates and THG one-shots. Once again, I'm super supper sorry guys.

Anyway, this was the first fanfiction I ever wrote. I showed it to my beta, Starlight, and she insisted I post it. She taught me how to set up this account. This story is what brought me to ffn. But then I wrote the first chapter of Twisted Fantasy and showed it to her, and since then TF has been priority. So this is just something to tide you guys over while I work on TF. It's probably not that good and I don't plan on continuing it.

~Summer

Draconidae

Chapter One
Jace was going insane.
He could feel it, creeping into his skin, making his hairs raise, coursing through his bones, invading his mind. There was nothing worse than being stuck inside the Institute. Each day he was reminded of things better forgotten; the mirror on Isabelle's wall caused him to ache for Idris. He'd stare at the library and picture Hodge, slumped in his desk chair, Hugo perched on his shoulder, nose in a book. And when Jace would visit the greenhouse, he'd think about Clary...
Clary.
Sharp pain came with the thought of her. He'd feel hollow inside, an agonizing pain that only two people could inflict upon him: Clary and Valentine. No. He couldn't think about that.
Jace couldn't be here anymore. He had to be out there again, searching, hunting, destroying. His hands craved the cold metal of weapons. His legs yearned for the satisfying ache of exhaustion. It was odd and unnerving wearing clean clothes. He needed to be drenched in demon blood, needed the familiar feel of the hot liquid sticking his shirt to his chest.
Pacing back and forth in his room he thought. He needed to keep busy, needed a plan, something. His bedroom door slowly opened. Quicker than a bullet, Jace's head shot towards the intruder. It was Isabelle. She wore tight, jet black leggings and a very constricting, knee length top. Over it, she was sporting a very non-vegetarian leather jacket with gloves to match. Her whip hung from her belt. For the first time in a long while, Jace noticed she wasn't wearing any makeup. A nice change, Jace thought.
"Jace..." Isabelle's voice was pleading and full of concern. Jace pulled off his shirt and yanked a new one over his head. He played with his hair, fiddled with his hands, anything to keep him busy.
"C'mon Jace. Let's go do something. Let's-"
Jace turned on her. "Yeah. Yes! Let's go. Now. There are tons of demons running around the streets!"
Isabelle stared at him in horror. "Oh, Jace-"
But Jace was already out the door, shouting for Alec.
By the time the trio were dressed and equipped with weapons, the sun had set. Silently, Alec, Jace, and Isabelle snuck down the dark halls of the Institute. Soon enough, they came to the creaky old elevator. It groaned and stuttered, threatening to reveal the Shadowhuters. The elevator ground to a screeching halt and they jumped out and ran as fast as they could, until they were far from the Institute.
Under the cover of night, Jace, Alec, and Isabelle set out, in search of the unknown.

OoO

Sensor and seraph blade in hand, Jace jogged up ahead and took the lead. Adrenaline coursed through his body; he could have run for miles, for hours, he felt like he could fly. The polluted New York air inflated his lungs, so startlingly different from the clean air of Idris...
Jace urged his legs to move faster.

Isabelle fell back until she was running alongside her brother.
"Alec," she whispered, "I'm worried about Jace."
"You think I'm not?" Alec's voice was grave.
"He hasn't been the same since... You know. Clary."
"Clary! You'd think he'd be over her by now." He snapped, bitterness thick on his tone.
"Alec," Isabelle chided. "We have to humor him. He's hurting. Jace has always been our brother. But now he's someone else's brother; someone else's son. Imagine how he must be feeling. He's grown up listening to the horror stories about Valentine-"
"All the stories are true." Alec said somberly.
"Yes. So, just be sensitive to him, ok?"
Alec nodded. He missed the old Jace; proud Jace, confident Jace, sarcastic Jace, brave Jace, stupid Jace, vain Jace. All of those Jaces were better than weak and frightened Jace.
Jace yelled from a few miles up the street. The two Lightwoods exchanged worried looks and sprinted to catch up with him.

Jace loomed over a subway entrance, his golden hair shimmering in the moonlight. His sensor was alive with different beeps and clicks; demons were close. Anticipation surged through him; his thirst was quenched, his hunger ended.
Soon, Isabelle and Alec arrived at his side, panting heavily. "What... the... hell... Jace..." Alec doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
"Oh come on. You guys call yourselves Shadowhunters? Get in shape." Jace growled. He regretted it the moment the harsh words left his lips. He knew it wasn't fair to take out his frustrations on his siblings, but lately he'd been a grenade of emotions. Alec and Isabelle just happened to be the closest target, and they almost always got hurt. Watching his stepsiblings wince and shy away from him, a mixture of fear and concern in their eyes, he felt truly like he was his father's son. He opened his mouth to apologize, but then closed it and turned away, realizing the effort was futile.
Jace stared hard at the subway entrance. As most subway entrances in New York were, the stairs consisted of railings, advertisements, and steps. Lots and lots of steps. The railings were probably once black, but over time rust had swallowed up the bars. A wooden board, moldy and splintered, blocked up the entrance to the stairs. The wood was old and feeble, and Jace was able to crush it with the push of his foot. Witchlight stone grasped tightly, Jace descended down the steps.

The boys' seraph blades and witchlights were the only source of light in the dank stairwell. Isabelle had, quite stupidly, left her witchlight stone in the Institute; she clutched her whip tightly and held a seraph blade in her right hand (her weapon inventory also included four more seraph blades hanging from her belt, along with half a dozen daggers strapped to her bra, and a knife in each boot). The blade, however, was unnamed; Isabelle's mind worked sharpest in the dark. Each one of her senses had to become keener if one was impaired, and she preferred four sharp senses over five dull ones.
Isabelle realized, with a start, that her brothers were much farther ahead; she could only just make out a glowing rune on the back of Alec's neck.
"Uriel," she whispered, and as the seraph blade lit the dark, a thousand details sprung out at her. The stairs she stood on were damp and filthy. Thick puddles of sticky liquid dripped from the ceiling and collected on the steps. Roaches and rats scuttled across her feet, and it took all of her willpower not to screech. Give her a Greater Demon and Isabelle could kill it no problem; rats, however... She shuddered. Now THOSE were creatures that needed to be hunted.
An old billboard hung limply from the rotting wall, it was covered in dust and dirt, but Isabelle suspected it was once advertising a donut company.
Isabelle strode forward, tackling three steps at once. In no time at all, she had bypassed Alec and Jace and was taking the lead...