"Thank you for what you did for Tessa," said Jem. Will could not look at Jem; he looked at the wall, where their shadows blended together in relief, so that one could not tell where one boy ended and the other began. "Thank you for watching Brother Enoch pull shards of metal out of my back afterward," he said.

Jem laughed. "What else are parabatai for?"

XXX

Will threw his head back, gratefully gulping down the chilly night air. His chest still burned, and he doubted a bit of fresh air would do him any good. Yet this was infinitely more pleasant than being inside the Institute. Anywhere inside there would be uncomfortably smothering after tonight.

He looked around, hoping no one was around to see him in this pitiful state. Once he was satisfied no one was watching, he walked briskly for the Institute's gate. His hand didn't hesitate to throw them open, and he trudged out onto the bleak grey streets.

Everything seemed to be bleached of color as he walked aimlessly down the streets. Like his grief has leaked out and spilled everywhere , alerting anyone wandering past that he was not in the mood to engage in any kind of frivolity.

He had buried his grief as far down as he could, and sealed everything behind the most emotionless expression he could summon up. Though he feared that if someone were to look close enough, they might be able to distinguish the hollowness of his eyes. And he found himself hoping that no one would get that close ever again.

He continued his trudge down the road, head bent down against the wind.

It had been impossible for him to stay with Jem any longer. With every passing moment, he found himself more and more disgusted with the fact that he even considered asking Jem to give up Tessa. If anyone deserved a happy ending it was undoubtedly Jem.

Will hated to admit it, but after everything that he had put her through, he had no right to Tessa's affections at all. The thought cut him deep. He knew better than anyone that Jem had a fixed amount of time left, and that he deserved to spend every second of it happy.

Rain began to fall lightly on him as he stopped at a corner outside a mundane alehouse. He made a move to cross the road, but halted himself mid-step. Why not?

He had promised not to indulge in warlock powders, but they had said nothing of alcohol consumption.

Steeling his resolve to drink himself senseless, he turned and pushed his way inside. The smell of cheap ale, cigar smoke, and various other substances crushed him like a wave. This was definitely one of the more shady establishments, as these people looked more like the street scum than the common respectable local.

But it mattered not, Will was confident that he was more than capable of taking care of himself even if he was drunk as a drowned mouse. He resisted the urge to crinkle his nose as he made his way around the various billiard, darts, and card games to get to the bar.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked as Will settled into a stool.

"Something strong," Will replied glumly.

"Rough day?" the man asked as he fetched a bottle from beneath the counter.

Will nodded numbly, hoping to get the point across that he wished to be left alone. The bartender seemed to take the hint, and left to refill a pint farther down the bar, leaving Will to stare down at his small glass of clear liquid.

In a fit of boldness, or sheer idiocy, Will downed the glass in a single swig. This proved unwise as the liquid carved a trial of fire down his throat and into his chest, bringing some temporary feeling to his numb body. He hung his head, trying to hide his watering eyes and stifle his coughs. The drunks on the streets swallowed this like it was merely water, yet a single mouthful had almost brought him to his knees.

When he looked back up, his glass was full again.

He decided to take it slower this time, and sipped only half the glass. The fire burned less this time, yet his thoughts were still far from muddled. He could still see everything far too clearly for his liking.

Jem and Tessa…married…

Feeling his chest constrict, he took another sip of the clear liquid. The burning sensation rolled over him again, but his thoughts were still coherent. Just how much of this stuff did he need to consume to rid the visions of gold wedding dresses from his head?

Jem was indeed a lucky bastard, having won over Tessa's affections is such a short time. It killed him to think about how he knew Jem would have been the one to shield Tessa from the explosion if he had been able.

Jem would shield Tessa from anything. But he wasn't the only one.

Self-loathing beat itself down on him as he finished off his second glass.

Why had he just accepted the fact that he was cursed without knowing anything about the Shadow world? Why had he not done some research on the nature of demon curses? If only he had done something from the moment he arrived at the Institute, would he be the one Tessa was engaged to right now? Unable to stand the thought of what ifs, Will decided he was in need of something stronger than mundane taverns could provide.

He left some money on the counter next to his empty glass and stalked off.

Jem and Tessa said nothing about warlock ales after all.

The splitting hairs was a weak excuse and he knew it. But more than anything, he wanted the bliss that came from his dream courtesy of the powders. It had been the happiest he had felt in a long time.

He wandered the bleak streets, heading in the direction of the Ifrit dens. He kept assuring himself that this was different. They said nothing about drinks.

Just as he was passing a dingy alley, he was sidetracked by the sounds of a brawl. He glanced over, mildly curious. It was interesting watching how mundanes went about fighting, so he case a quick glamor over himself and strode into the dim alley to observe.

There was a group of seven or so men, all crowded around a much smaller figure. They looked like the typical mundane addicts; unkept hair, muddy and tattered clothes, and they reeked of cheap ale, cigar smoke, and something extra that Will suspected was Opium.

The smaller figure looked like a normal boy. He was dressed in black trousers and a sturdy pair of boots, a white shirt, and a grey weather beaten traveling cloak. A shadow was cast by his cap, covering most of his face. Though from the part that was showing, he looked young.

"Damn kid," one of the larger men spat. "Cough up the money you stole from us!"

"I've stolen nothing from you," the boy answered calmly. "I won fairly. I've noticed that luck has a peculiar habit of favoring those who don't depend on it. So how 'bout the next time you gamble, you make sure you are capable of thinking clearly. Or find an opponent that's actually simple enough to fall for all your cheap tricks, you filthy kanurd."

The brawny man knotted his fists in the boy's shirt front and lifted him a few good feet off the ground. The boy's back was slammed into the grimy alley wall, and his lips parted ever so slightly as the air was knocked from his lungs.

"Yer the simple one if y'think yer getting away with that," the man growled, his face flushed with fury.

He slammed the boy against the wall again, and the cap fell from the boy's head, spilling a long black braid from its confines.

"Oi boss…" one man trailed off. "He's a girl."

"I can see that y'lunkhead!" the brawny man spat back.

He lowered the girl down slightly until they were eye level. She looked a bit shaken from having the air slammed out of her, but was recovering quicker than Will expected her to. She held his gaze with a searing glare. If she was in any way frightened by their suddenly hungry looks, she did a good job of hiding it.

"So a girl went an' stole our money now, did she?" the brawny man drawled as he gave her a leering once over. "She may be chicken-breasted, but there are other ways she can repay us lads."

"How rude," the girl snapped. "Did your mother not teach you to be polite to ladies?"

"I see no lady here," the man replied. "Only a cockish wench."

There was a sudden howl of pain and the girl was dropped to the dirty alley floor. The big brawny man was brought to his knees on the floor next to her, clutching his groin and tearing at the eyes. He wasn't even watching as the girl scrambled to her feet and grabbed a discarded piece of ply wood and brought it down over his head with a nice thud.

He fell of the floor, and she kicked him aside before she glanced over to the rest of her stupefied tormenters.

"Anyone else want to give it a go? Or can we all call it a night and go home happily?"

The men recovered from their initial shock and rushed her all at once. And she in turn led them into a rather violent dance. She spun, ducked, and dodged with incredible speed and agility. Almost too incredible for her to be merely human.

Will watched in slight amusement as she pulled legs out from under the men who dwarfed her so with little difficulty. Her elbows were boney and sharp and she made good use of them, jamming them ruthlessly into stomachs and the backs of knees. She seemed to be enjoying herself almost a little too much, watching as they dropped like stones, and forgot to guard her back.

There was a sharp cry of pain as one man grabbed a hold of her braid and reeled her in by it. She clawed at his beefy hand with her nails desperately trying to get him to release her. The last man still standing pulled a switchblade from his ratty coat pocket and advanced towards the two of them.

"What good is a little dollymop without her pretty face?" he sneered as he griped her face his hand.

Her eyes blazed in fury as she maneuvered her face down and bit the web of skin between the man's thumb and pointer finger. He howled and punched her before cradling his hand to his chest.

"As if I would need to sink that low," the girl spat. "I have already proven that kanurds such as yourself are an excellent source of income."

"Carve the bitch up already," the other man growled as he pulled her closer to the man's switchblade.

"Gladly."

Fear sparked through the girl's eyes as the tip of the blade pressed lightly at the part of her cheek that was already purpling and swelling from the punch.

Will was about to step in when the girl rammed her heel into the shin of the man holding onto her hair, putting all her weight into scraping her foot down the front of his leg and slamming the arch of her foot onto the top of his foot.

He howled like a dog and fell to the ground, clutching his foot.

The man with the switchblade hesitated for a moment, and in that moment she had her hands on it. They wrestled for it, and she got him to release it by digging the blade into the web of skin she had bitten earlier.

The man staggered back, and she was behind him in an instant. She gave him final blow that had him out cold before he hit the ground.

She sighed heavily as she retracted the blade and stuck it into the pocket of her traveling cloak. Her breathing became labored as she made her way towards the mouth of the alley. She collapsed a few steps in front of Will, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back against the filthy wall without a second thought.

Her hair was spilling out her braid, due to the assault dealt towards it, and the locks cast deep shadows on her pale face. There was a deep flush high in her cheeks, and sweat glinting in the dingy light from the gas lamps. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal a pair bright olive green irises that were framed by long dark lashes.

At the moment she looked up, looking right through him. Will got that fleeting feeling of annoyance. It still irritated him to be looked at like he wasn't there, even if he wasn't supposed to be there. He wondered if he would ever be able to get over it.

Well the girl was obviously able to take care of herself, so there was no need to stick around.

"Were you just planning on standing there while they carved me up like a Christmas ham?"

Will froze.

"No need to act so surprised. I was simply curious if this is a hobby of yours. Watching people get cut up."

"So you have the Sight?" he replied.

"Not quite," she sighed.

"Shadowhunter?"

"Not quite."

"Well then what are you?"

"I have the blood and the training," she muttered as she pulled herself to her feet. "But my parents left the Clave, so I've had no rune ceremony."

Her face was a good head lower than his own, but she stared up at him in a way that made her seem taller than she was. He was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable as her staring continued. But in a moment, her skepticism melted away and a smile broke out across her lips.

"What a pleasure to see you again Will Herondale."

His eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in towards him. He almost felt a need to take a step back.

"If you do not remember me I am not offended," she pressed on.

"Should I have remembered?" Will asked.

"We've only met once. A rather long time ago."

"Then how is it you seem to remember me?"

Then, to his surprise, she reached out, gently brushing his hair away from his forehead. Her fingers barely touched his skin, but he felt chills from her touch.

"I could never forget those eyes."