A/N: Set after City of Heavenly Fire. Disregards a lot of Clockwork Princess, seeing as it was planned before it was released. Spoilers for all of Cassandra Clare's books.

(New York, Manhattan, 2008.)

The moment he walked into the Institute, he was reminded of a ghost town. All of the furniture was covered in white sheets, reminding him far too much of a funeral, and the windows were barricaded shut, only small slivers of light coming through. The dust seemed to hang in the air, motionless despite his entry, as if it were trapped in time. It felt as if he was walking into a house that had been abandoned for hundreds of years, rather than one that had just been uninhabited for six months. Suddenly, he was pushed forcefully inside, only just stopping himself from falling over.

"Hey," he said sharply, rubbing at his back. "Ok, firstly, your technique is terrible, and secondly, that isn't even how you break down a door – which I am not, by the way. I am a person."

"You remind me more of a dog than a person, to be quite honest," Cecily replied, rolling her shoulder from where she bashed into him.

"And you were clogging up the hallway," said Margaret as she came in, placing her suitcases in a corner of the room before placing her hands on her hips. "Well."

"Oh, lovely, the décor matches the glamour outside," Jessie said, entering the hallway. David was following closely behind her with the last of the bags. "Fabulous. So glad we moved from Idris to here."

"It looks haunted," Cecily added.

"It was for a promotion," Margaret concluded, letting out a small sigh. "And Maryse assured me that everything was in perfect condition. I'm sure once we set up all of our things it will be…warm and comforting."

"Sweetheart, it is a cathedral," said David. "But a very lovely one," he added, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously as he shifted under her glare.

"When she said everything was in perfect condition, did she include the dead angel –"

"Will!" Margaret shouted. "We will not be having any of that. This is a new place, and I, at least, would appreciate a new start."

"Why would you be worrying about a dead angel anyway," Cecily said. "Half of the Lightwood family died here. What you should be worrying about are ghosts." Her eyes lit up at the last word.

"Christ, it's like I gave birth to Edgar Allan Poe. Twice," Margaret moaned. "For the final time, my dear Cecily, most of the Lightwood family is alive and the only one that did die died in Idris."

"Lots of people died in Idris," Jessie said nonchalantly.

"I believe that is why we moved," David muttered. He looked over at his wife, offering a small smile, which she attempted to return before wincing a pressing her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes as the volume of her children's horror stories grew.

"Enough," she said finally, still not opening her eyes. Slowly, the noise lessened until Will and Cecily had turned to face Margaret, though they were still trying to elbow each other in the ribs discreetly. Jessie, meanwhile, had sat herself down on one of the chairs with a huff, folding her arms over her chest and giving each of them a bored eye roll. "Ok," Margaret continued. "You have successfully given me a headache in the ten minutes we've been here. So, go unpack your things, and be down here in an hour for dinner. Be gone." She waved a hand at them, ushering them away.

Already Jessie was hurrying over to the elevator, suitcase in hand, calling out, "I get the bedroom with the window."

It had been little more than half an hour when Will heard the sound of his mother calling him. While his suitcase was open, he had spent most of the time changing into his training gear before wandering off down the hall and into his sister's rooms. To his slight disappointment, all of the rooms were the same. However, while his wardrobe and desk were both bare, Jessie's were practically overflowing; the wardrobe with all her dresses and the desk covered in different assortments of perfumes and make-up. The smell of perfume had also engulfed him as soon as he entered the threshold, which had allowed her time to push him further inside and force (or "coerce", as she liked to put it) him to help her put up some paper lanterns she'd bought on the way.

He had hoped to find some sanctuary in Cecily's room, but instead she too had dragged him inside, slamming the door behind him, and had used him, as essentially, a human coatrack, as she attempted to accurately colour code her wardrobe. Seeing as she barely wore colour, he didn't see the necessity of it at all, but he did appreciate the fact that he could breathe freely in her room. Things had started to look up once she'd found the take-away menu she'd grabbed on the way, but as fortune would have it, their mother's voice had started to call for them.

"Seen any ghosts yet?" Cecily asked as she and Will joined up with Jessie, who was plaiting her hair into a braid as she walked.

"No, today would have been much more eventful if I had," replied Jessie. "That reminds me, next time we go on a mission, tell me to bring me pink knife. I haven't had a chance to use it yet."

"A demon isn't going to care what colour your knife is, it's going to care how sharp it is," Will scoffed, flicking at a gas light on the wall.

"Well, mine is both," Jessie said. "So it's a win/win for me, quite frankly. And it goes with my boots." At that, she gave a haughty smile to Will, who poked his tongue out at her, before tossing her braid over her shoulder so it flicked him in the face.

"Ow."

"Baby."

"This is why people don't believe me when I say I'm the youngest," Cecily interjected, before climbing up the stairs two at a time. By the time they got to the library, both Will and Cecily were out of breath, fighting over who had won the race to the top of the stairs, while Jessie had glided past them, rolling her eyes as she went. As soon as Will entered the library, all thoughts of a feud were forgotten. Instead, all of his attention turned to the rows upon rows of books presented to him; the smell of leather and old paper overwhelming him. Mindlessly, he started to wander towards an empty part of the library, before the collar of his shirt was roughly grabbed and he was pulled backwards.

"You're hopeless," was all Cecily said. "Absolutely hopeless."

"It's Heaven," Will replied.

"It's a dead forest."

"Hea-ven."

"Children," Margaret said, giving them a tight smile when they finally reached her. She was leaning against a large desk placed in the centre of the room, David close by her. Next to her was a middle-aged man wearing casual clothes, and beside him was a young boy, dark hair flicked over his forehead so that it was almost covering his eyes. He held himself inwards, almost, as if not to disturb the air around him, and he was very, very still.

"Glad to see you took your time," Margaret continued. "Jessie, Will, Cecily, we have guests. This is – sorry, what were your names?"

"I am Elijah Yu, and this is my son, James," the man answered. At that, Margaret's eyes widened.

"You mean, Inquisitor Yu? Why, whatever are you doing here?" she asked.

"Coming to welcome you into the neighbourhood, of course. Though I can't say we'd be much help showing you around, seeing as we ourselves only moved here three days ago. And please, call me Elijah, at least for now. My duties don't begin until tomorrow, much like yours," he answered. "Besides, as I will be spending much of my time in Idris, it will be you that Jem shall be answering to." At this the boy offered a small smile, nodding his acknowledgement to Margaret.

"So, not old enough to travel with your or by himself, then? Much like my own?" said Margaret.

"I am turning eighteen next month," Jessie interrupted, indignant.

"Oh good, does that mean you'll be leaving us soon?" Will said.

"How could I, dear brother, when you still need me to be here for you? Why, even a night away and I come back to find you having a nightmare due to my absence."

"I have never," Will said, appalled. "Why I would be more than ha –"

"Will, why don't you and James go look around? You haven't had much time to explore the place, have you?" David suggested, looking uneasily at Margaret, whose hand had returned to her forehead. Will shrugged.

"Why not; come along, James," he said. James briefly looked at his father, who nodded, giving him a small smile, before following Will out of the library, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Where do you live?" asked Will.

"About a block from here," James said, regarding Will almost curiously. "It's just a house, nothing as grand as this."

"I'm not sure I'd call it grand," Will said. "After all, I've barely seen any of it."

"I think an elevator is a bit of a give away." Will felt himself smirk.

"Right this way," was all he said, though he had no idea where he was going. To his disappointment, all they found was mostly the same room over and over again, which was an exact replica of his, Cecily's, and Jessie's.

"You'd think, that with all the people this building must have housed, at least one of its guests must have been interesting," he said finally, going past another room. Suddenly, he stopped, James nearly bumping into him because of it, and peered into the room.

"James, is that a cat on the bed?" he asked.

"Yes, it looks like the same one that let us in," James answered, peering inside the room over Will's shoulder. "Isn't it your cat?"

"No, we don't own a cat," said Will. "What do you mean it let you in?"

"Well, we tried knocking, but no one heard us. So, then we came in and went up the elevator, and – there it was, waiting for us outside the elevator. It led us to your mother," James said. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, we didn't mean to break in and enter; we just wanted to say hi. We brought lasagne, too."

"Well, that's all right then," Will said, smiling at him. He glanced back at the cat quickly before turning a corner and walking down yet another corridor. He looked at the wallpaper with mild disgust.

"I may not be Jessie, but even I think this wallpaper is out-dated," he remarked.

"It looks Victorian," James said.

"They really don't redecorate here, do they?" Will asked. He continued walking until finally he came across an open door. "Ah, finally, some variety," he said. In front of him was a music room, which included a grand piano and a small stack of shelves nearby it, presumably filled with music books. He turned to make another comment, but instead closed his mouth shut. At the sight of the music room, James' face had softened, his eyes wide and bright with wonder. Will leaned back against the doorframe, allowing James to have a better view of the place.

"Do you play?" he asked, noticing the way James seemed to wake out of a dream at the sound of his voice.

"Yes, the violin and the piano, though we don't have a piano at our house. We used to, in Idris," he replied. "Do you?" Will shook his head.

"Come on," he said, walking into the room and taking a seat next to the piano. "Show me what you can do." James looked at him hesitantly, before walking over and sitting at the piano, giving Will a slight smile before he began to play.

"They seem nice. I mean, I only saw the boy for about a minute, but Elijah was lovely. Particularly when you take his job into account," Margaret said, stabbing at her lasagne.

"And he can cook," Cecily added.

"How long has it been since we've had a nice Inquisitor?" said David. "What, a hundred years? It's about time the Council changed its protocol. Though, of course, it would take two wars and countless deaths for the message to finally get into their thick heads. Please don't tell the Clave I said that."

"Well at least now that half the population is dead different people can have a go now," Will said. "I mean, are there even any Waylands left anymore?"

"This is why I don't like political talk at the dinner table," said Margaret, giving David a stern look. "Will, you spent some time with James. How was he?"

"Jem? Nice. Lovely piano player. Helped me find the training room. Very good at knife throwing," Will replied.

"Jem? You met him for an hour and you've already given him a nickname?" asked Jessie. "Is your mouth really that lazy that you have to condense a five letter name into a three letter one?"

"Well, I'm glad you liked him, particularly as he'll be tutoring with you from now on," Margaret interrupted.

"Oh, good, we need some more testosterone in this house," Will responded. "Wait a minute, I move into a different country and I still have to be tutored? What about Cecily and Jessie?"

"Yes, they do too," she replied exasperatedly. "They are just much more tolerable with each other than they are with you," Margaret replied. "And yes, that does mean that you and Jem will be tutored separately to them. Now, I know it's exciting having a boy your own age in the house – "

"I'm sixteen, not six."

"However, if you dare distract that boy from his schoolwork I will force you to clean every room in this house every single week. Do you understand me? Jem being tutored is specifically what Elijah asked for and it's the least we could do for him," Margaret finished.

"What do you mean, 'the least we could do for him'?" Cecily asked.

"His wife died year, and I believe there's only been one of her friends helping both him and James out ever since," David replied, his mouth turning down slightly. "My, what a bloody stupid war that was."

"Then why did his dad accept the position of Inquisitor? He's leaving Jem alone and that job is notorious for ending in gruesome deaths. What would happen to Jem if – "

"Will, this really is turning into quite a morbid discussion. We did just eat," his mother said, her face paler than before. "Secondly, it is safer now. We and everyone else in the Council is making sure of that."

"She has a point," said Cecily. "I mean, how many demon armies can you raise?"

"Isn't Hell supposed to be a bottomless pit?" asked Will.

"Surely people get sick of raising demon armies," David said. "It takes a lot of effort, after all. And, I mean, it never works. I would've thought they'd gotten the hint."

"You, clearly, haven't looked at the Accords in a while, sweetheart. Because they don't. They are quite creative, though," Margaret said thoughtfully.

"Can we please stop talking about politics?" said Jessie. Before giving anyone time to answer, she continued, "In actually interesting news, I found out that this place has a greenhouse. Isn't that lovely? We could grow our own flowers, and there are some different plants I want to try and grow too. I found a book in the library that was talking about plants with different healing qualities and –"

"Mother, make her stop, she sounds like a faerie," Will groaned.

"Well then don't come me if you're dying and you want a cure, because you won't be getting any help from me," Jessie sneered. "And I don't even know why you think faerie is such an insult anyway, they're quite lovely."

"They lie and they have pretentious names."

"They're not able to lie, moron," said Cecily.

"How do you know that isn't a lie, huh?"

"Ok, time for all of you to go. Go to bed, explore the place, I don't care, just don't do it near me," Margaret said finally. "And I especially don't want to hear about it. If you get lost then it can wait until morning."

"Bye, mother," they all said in unison, before rushing away from the dinner table, leaving all of their empty plates. She rolled her eyes.