Authors Note

Hi, my name is Cariadglynnis, and my friends (Wanderlust100 and sc858) and I decided one day that we wanted to write a story about a group of downworlders dealing with the continual struggle of discrimination and social darwinism. It is completely our own, except we are using Cassandra Clare's world of Shadowhunters and Downworlders. If you have read her books everything will make a lot more sense.

Anyways we are all writing this, one chapter per person, rotating perspectives. Just so you know.

There will be

Psyche: Cariadglynnis

Fey: Wanderlust100

Scarlet: sc858

We hope you like it, follow, like, and especially review! Thanks!

p.s

we have all made polyvore accounts for this so you can check it out to see outfits and other stuff

The sun was setting in the west, turning the sky into a fantasia of colour. It glowed deep red and flaming orange, casting strange and magnificent shadows on the earth below. A brisk wind danced through the streets, the temperature dropping quickly in preparation for nightfall. Despite the chill in the air, everything seemed to have a warm glow to it. Twilight was my favourite time of day for exactly these reasons. The ordinary world became a wonderwall of magic and illusion, if only for a short while.

I got one last glimpse at the sun as I climbed the steps of a townhouse in downtown Seattle before I knocked on the heavy metal door. I could feel the bass from the song being currently play vibrating in my chest and sighed inwardly. Malachi enjoyed having parties and despite their regularity, he always got carried away. They usually ended in brawls or some sort of law infraction. His parties were well known throughout the city and only the best of the best were invited. The old warlock chose his company carefully. Carefully choosing to spend his time with the dangerous and rogue downworlders. Like me, for example.

When the door opened, a stream of music poured out. It was fast and frantic, inside the open space was filled with bodies dancing and grinding along to the beat. I pushed my way in, not acknowledging whoever opened the door for me. Purposefully sidestepping the dance floor, I made my way over to where I knew Malachi would be.

Several people recognized me, and tried to pull me on the dance floor or offered to get me a drink, but I had to stay focused. Tonight was strictly for business. I kept my head down as I passed through the kitchen and slipped behind the drapes and up the secret staircase. If anyone found out about the hidden passageway to the upstairs where Malachi spent the majority of his time, he would be furious. And if he found out it was me who gave it away, he would be furious and have a dead body.

When I closed the door behind me, I waited at the bottom for a few moments to make sure no one had followed me. When I was sure I was alone, I continued. Malachi spent most of parties upstairs with a few select people, doing various activities. I was showed the third floor because Malachi has a 'thing' for Young Bloods. And what's better than a dangerous Young Blood with extraordinary power.

Unfortunately for him, the hooking up with an extraordinarily powerful warlock didn't work out as well as he planned. When he tried to make a move, I sort of panicked and ran out, leaving him paralyzed within a spell. His ego was damaged slightly, but he wasn't too angry and I received an invitation to his next gathering. I think he keeps me around because he's got the hots for me- scratch that, I know he does. He told me so himself.

Don't get the wrong idea though, I'm not all that pretty. But with downworlders, it's not a matter of beauty. Its power they like. And I've got plenty of that.

The air was thicker at the top of the stairs. When I opened the door, I walked into a haze of smoke and there was the sickly sweet smell of opium. It was a useless drug that would waste you away. Curling patterns of smoke led me to where I would find Malachi and his special guests.

They were at the end of the hall in the master bedroom. I entered to find five altogether, sitting in a cloud of smoke. On the bed, with an arm draped over a vampire girl and a pipe in the other, was Malachi. He hadn't changed at all since the last time I'd seen him. Well obviously, he hadn't changed, I mean he's immortal. But he was in the same place as when I left his last party a few months ago. Except with a different girl. The pig.

When he saw me, his eyes lit up. They were brighter than usual due to the drug, and there was an odd airiness to him. He wore a filthy smirk as he came over to greet me.

"Psyche," he snaked his arm around my waist.

"Malachi," I said as I curtly removed his hand. "A pleasure as always."

He threw his head back as he laughed, like a pretty boy who knew that he was beautiful. Truth of the matter was Malachi was alright looking-nothing special but he was old. He only looked twenty five but he must have been close to three hundred. But he was powerful and had connections. So even thought he was a prick, I stuck around. He was a good ally to have and I liked the people he would introduce me to.

"I didn't know you would be joining us. Here," he said offering me his pipe.

"No thanks. I'm here on business. You have something I need."

"You?" he grinned. "Last time I checked you've never worked for anyone. Not that you need to."

"I've had occasional costumers." I replied coolly. "Powerful ones. I like to stay in a positive light in their eyes. When the time comes, they will remember me."

"Oh you needn't worry about that. I'm sure everyone will remember you already." It sounded almost as if he were jealous.

I stifled a laugh at Malachi's petty emotion. For one so old, he was so foolish. As if there was any reason to be jealous of me. I was one of the most hated downworlders in Seattle. The only way I stayed alive was through pure power and natural talent. But there's a down side to power. Ancient warlocks cannot measure to the ability I have which creates quite a few enemies.

"So are you going to help me or not?" I slipped out of his grip and walked over to the vanity. I picked up a small box and turned it over in my fingers. It looked exotic and expensive. "I don't have forever." I said as slipped the box into my pocket unnoticed.

I actually did have forever, being immortal and all, but I found the mundane saying to be quite funny and used it frequently. Malachi rolled his eyes. "What can I do for you Psyche?"

"I need Yewaugh leaves."

"That makes a very powerful drug, you know."

"That's one use for it I suppose," I replied.

Malachi grumbled something about Young Bloods and left to retrieve the Yewaugh for me. I turned around and was startled by the four pairs of expectant eyes meeting mine. Malachi's guests had been so silent I almost forgot they were there.

One of them cleared their throat and I just smiled, unsure what to say.

"So you're the famous Psyche," one of them said from across the room. I glanced at the man who spoke. He was barely a man, appearing no older than me, but it was impossible to tell his true age. He looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and distain.

"Yes, and you are..?"

"Jules Alabaster of Nevada." I rolled my eyes at his formality. "You're not quite as I expected."

I cocked my head to a side. "And what exactly did you expect Mr. Alabaster?"

"Is it true that you brought the destruction of Casimir's clan as a child?" The vampire on the bed piped up.

"Yes." I said still looking at Jules. He remained silent and we fell into an awkward silence.

We all stayed like that for a few moments before another vampire girl sitting on the dresser broke the silence. "I like your jacket."

I pulled my favourite jean jacket -with the buffalo hand-painted on the back- tighter around me. I was about to thank her when a door down the hall slammed. There were heavy footsteps and low shouts. My first thought was that the party goers had discovered the door behind the drapes. But when I heard a holy angel's name shouted in exuberance, I knew it was much, much worse. Shadowhunters.

I'd never actually met a Shadowhunter face to face, but I've seen them in combat and I've heard stories. I know that they are fierce, powerful, and dangerous creatures. Humans with angel blood that gives them their abilities. They don't seem to have a weakness except their arrogance. But I'm not sure if that gives us an upper hand when they are the law we abide to.

Because I'm a Young Blood, I never knew when times were dangerous and difficult in the shadow world. A time when there was no peace between shadowhunters and downworlders. When there needn't be any reason kill someone and the ruthless and merciless ruled.

When the most recent Accords were signed a few years ago it brought peace. There were still tensions but we managed.

There was a crash and tinkle of something shattering. I heard Malachi scream in agony. He's gotten in plenty of bar fights with dangerous downworlders and has his fair share of scars from them but I've never heard him cry out like that.

Everyone in the master bedroom stood frozen in silence. Shock and fear held us all in place. I forced myself to calm down and used the silence to my advantage. There is always an advantage to every situation, and I had a knack for finding it.

I listened to what was happening outside, for something to give me a clue as to what to do or expect. There was an order shouted for the shadowhunters to spread out and search each room. We were at the end of the hall so we would be last, but I didn't know how many of them there was or how long it would take.

I took a breath and crept to the door. With a wave of my hand on the lights instantly shut off plunging us into darkness. Mutters of confusion came from each room. I sprinted down the hall, my hands up on either side of me, closing the doors to every room as I passed. The satisfying sound of a click as they locked. There were shouts from inside the rooms as the knobs rattled but didn't not give.

The white sparks that flew from my hands as I did my magic provided my only source of illumination. When I came to the crumpled shadow at the end I fell to my knees. A few feet away was a broken pot with what I assumed the Yewaugh plant but it was hard to tell what anything was in the darkness. With a snap of my fingers a spark ignited and I held a flame in my hand.

"Malachi," I whispered, and brought my flame towards him. He was lying face down and there was a dark stain spreading on his back, soaking through his shirt. I touched his back ever so slightly, bringing my hand back warm, and sticky with blood, the metallic smell making me sick to my stomach.

There was something wrong, besides the fact that he was bleeding possibly to death. No there was something else.

Then I realized- His mark, his warlock mark was gone.

Each warlock had something to identify themselves as magical beings. Mine were wings. Malachi had flat disk-like spikes protruding from his back where each spine vertebrae would be, but they were gone now. Ripped out somehow. I didn't know what this would mean for him or his powers. I raked my hands through my hair in frustration. How did I still know so god damn little?! After all these years in the shadow world and I know nothing.

I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, I needed to stop the bleeding. Unwilling to close the wounds in case we could get his osteoderms back into place. I wove a cloth from my fingertips and tied it tightly around his abdomen, turning him over onto his back to tie it.

He coughed and sputtered then ever so quietly whispered my name. Reaching up to cup my cheek with his hand, I grabbed hold of his wrist.

"What did they do? Are you…? I trailed off unsure how to phrase it. It was so awkward and uncomfortable. Not the kind of dramatic moment I had expected to be in if I held someone dying in my arms.

He managed a weak laugh. "No death hasn't got me yet. I heal fast you know."

"Malachi." I said worriedly.

"But," he croaked looking up at me with wide eyes and a hint of a grin, "if I do go, a good-bye kiss would be nice."

"You're disgusting," I said dropping his arm.

Just then, one of the doors down the hall swung open and out came a shadowhunter swearing profoundly. Light spilled into the hall from what I could tell to be a rock in his hand. The shadowhunter boy whirled around, pulling out a glowing blade from his weapons belt, spotted us huddled on the ground.

Before he could move, I grabbed the little plant, creating a protective sphere around it as I stood, then tucked it into my jacket. Lifting my hand to the closest door, it exploded inward, bits of wood ripping and splintering from the invisible impact. I sprinted through, knowing the other boy was not far behind.

Thankfully this room was empty. I spun around, but seeing no other way out, went to the window. I touched my forefinger to the glass, shattering the pane so fine it was almost sand. Climbing into the sill, I sat crouched adjusting my footing when the shadowhunter came in.

We both froze, staring at each other for a moment. My heartbeat thundered in my chest. An icy wind blew in from the night, whipping my hair around my face. It was like everything stopped, time slowing to a crawl and we were frozen in that moment.

Time to go, a part of me nudged. That was all it took to break me away.

I let go of the window frame and fell back. Wind whistled in my ears as I free fell. Turning in the air the short three stories until I became upright, I was still knocked off my feet when I hit the ground. I heard a loud tear as I rolled. When the momentum slowed I stood up and inspected the damage. I was fine but there was a huge rip in the shoulder of my jacket. My favourite jean jacket!

"Fucking Nephelim!" I yelled up at the townhouse furiously. "Shit," I hissed, fingering the torn material but there was no time to mend the tear. I broke out into a run, turning down an alley. I didn't stop running as I created a portal in my hands and threw it at the side of concrete building. I didn't stop running as I jumped through. I didn't stop running because I already knew where I was going.