It was getting worse.

She couldn't control it anymore, couldn't hide it.

She knew what she was: a freak. And a class A one at that.

She pressed the buzzer hard and turned up the collar on her coat. The rain was coming down hard now, pelting her like bullets.

There was no answer.

She punched the button again, leaning on it for a minute. The action had its desired effect. An annoyed sounding voice answered.

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."

"Is this Magnus Bane?" she asked, ignoring him.

"What's it to you?"

"Obviously something or I wouldn't be asking, would I?" There was silence on the other end. She leaned on the button again.

"ALRIGHT!" he shouted, and she heard the door click open. She smiled to herself and bit her lip before opening the door and climbing the stairs. As she reached the second landing she saw the door swing open and a figure plant himself firmly in the doorway. She couldn't tell if it was the dim light or the fact that she was wearing her darkest sunglasses, but he seemed sparkly.

"What do you want?" he said, leaning against the door frame.

"I need help."

"So go to the Clave, you're obviously one of theirs," he said, turning. "I'm done helping Shadowhunters."

"The Clave can't help me."

"And what makes you think I can?"

She pushed her sunglasses up into the ebony of her hair. Magnus's eyes widened as he took in the thin, pale face and the strange, pupil-less blue eyes. She gave him a strange, sad look. Her eyes seemed to swim like stormy kaleidoscopes, ever swirling and changing.

Without a word he moved aside and she stepped inside the apartment.

They were sitting in his living room, which was a carefully articulated mess of color. She balanced tentatively on the edge of a magenta couch as Magnus snapped his fingers.

"Coffee?" he asked, offering her a steaming mug.

"No thanks," she said looking down at her hands. She tugged nervously at her leather gloves as he surveyed her. Then she pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes. They made her feel safe.

Magnus, however, did not like this happening and reached over and tugged them from her face. She didn't say anything, merely looked back down at her wringing hands.

"Look up," he said, placing a hand under her chin. She did, though she couldn't look at him. Instead her eyes roved madly around the room, her hands shaking worse than ever.

"Just, hold still for a moment," he said impatiently. "And just look at me. Look AT me."

She did, though she shook like a leaf. She stared into his eyes, yellow-green with pupils like a cat's. Then she turned away abruptly.

"How long have you known?" Magnus asked, sitting back.

"Since I was eight," she said quietly.

"It took you that long? With those eyes?"

"I thought perhaps I might've been part-Faye," she said, looking up at him. "You know how the blood of the Fair Folk works its magic. That was until-" She removed one of her black gloves and held up a hand. Purple flames dripped down her hand.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Now explain what this has to do with me."

She faltered, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I don't know what to do- What this means-"

"So go back to doing whatever you've been doing for the past eight, nine years."

"You mean traveling from Institute to Institute, getting kicked out of one school after the next?"

"Why don't you go back home?" Magnus suggested, looking bored.

"Because my mother tried to kill me last time I went there."

Magnus turned away. He didn't like this girl. She was strangely unsettling like something tame that had gone feral. She reminded him of himself.

He felt the pair of glasses being pulled from his hands and turned back to her. Her eyes were far away and swirling slowly, like the churning waters of the East River. She gasped, her mouth opening. The glasses fell from her hand as her eyes started whirling faster and faster. The blue of her eyes turned lighter and lighter and her hands twisted into unnatural shapes.

Her irises flashed white and she fell to the floor, convulsing uncontrollably. Magnus dropped to his knees and turned the girl over onto her back. Her eyes where completely white, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

She arched her back, mouth wide in a silent scream. Then she dropped to the ground, limp as a broken doll, her head lolling awkwardly to the side.

"Jonathan," she said suddenly in a hoarse voice.

"What?" Magnus asked.

"He is here, in New York. He has returned for his blood. It will all end in blood. The blood of the Angel and that of the Devil will flow in the street and it will choke the life from all who remain. He is here. He is coming."

Her eyes fluttered open, still snowy white. She tried to get up but fell.

"Take my hand," Magnus said, extending it towards her. She looked blindly around.

"I can't see," she breathed, reaching out a hand. Tears ran down her face. Tears like black watercolors.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her gently back onto the couch. She shook terribly. Magnus sighed and pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair.

"Shhh, it's going to be ok. We're going to figure this out."

"It's getting worse. I can't make it stop. Not since-" she broke off, reaching into her coat. She drew out a what looked like a bundle of white sticks which she quickly unfolded into a cane and dropped to her knees, searching for her glasses.

"I should go, I'm sorry," she said quickly, scooping them up and hiding her unearthly eyes.

"No, wait," Magnus said, following her as she strode towards the door. "What you said about Jonathan-"

"He's here," she said quietly. "I can see him. I can hear him sometimes." She tripped on the rug and Magnus caught her. "I must be going crazy, right? It can't be real. But I saw him; I've seen him before with another blonde boy and a red haired girl. And I saw you fight him and I knew you were real because I saw you in Alicante. Sometimes I wonder if he'll be the last thing I ever see."

"Why? That doesn't make sense-"

"This blindness, it doesn't just go away in an hour or two. It was two weeks until I could see after I saw you fighting him at the door. I just want it to go away. I want it all to end."

Magnus stared at her for a moment. She was still shaking, her black coat rippling around her. He knew he had vowed to stay out of this whole war, to stay the hell away from Shadowhunters once and for all- but he could feel his resolve wavering. He ground his teeth as she fumbled for the door handle, her lithe fingers splayed.

"Where are you staying?" he asked through his teeth.

"I don't know," she said honestly. Magnus sighed and shook his head.

"Give me a second, I'll get my coat," he said.

"Why?"

"So you don't get abducted by some crackhead trafficker," he said rolling his eyes.

"I'm fine, I don't need your pity," she said, her hand tightening on the cane.

"It isn't pity. Truth is, we need your freaky powers babycakes. And I know someone who will be more than happy to house you for a few days."