I had this just sitting in my library collecting dust. What the heck past self how hard was it to upload a chapter?

Anyways, enjoy this superhero au of your favorite shadowhunters!

Chapter 1: Pilot, Part 1: Initium

Then

"Jace, you need to wake up . . . Immediately." from the door, Hodge beckoned again toward the drowsy figure, who was still moaning about the lack of sleep his trainer allowed him.

"I'm not in the mood . . ." came Jace's muffled reply from underneath the pillow, "For another stupid drill. . ."

"This isn't a training exercise, Jonathan, now get up!"

Jace peered at him over his pillow, his vision still blurred and eyes sticking together. The use of his full name jolted him a little out of his sleepy haze. Hodge only used that name when he meant business . . . Or perhaps it was just Hodge manipulating him into making him attend yet another early morning drill. Either way, Jace decided, he wasn't getting up, and yanked the covers his head.

"It's 3 AM, Hodge. Go to sleep. I think your age is finally affecting your brain." Jace joked half heartedly, his words slurring together. But in a matter of seconds, Jace felt his back suddenly roll off his mattress and collide with the floor, his blanket ripped out of his arms.

"Are you trying to ruin my life, Hodge?" he groaned, slowly moving into a sitting position.

"I'm not trying to ruin it; I'm trying to save it. Now get up, before I leave without you." Jace stared at Hodge in shock as he opened the door to the small, steel room. "I'll be back in five minutes. Pack the necessities - remember the tonic! Don't forget it!"

And with that the door slammed shut, leaving behind an utterly confused Jace sitting alone on the cold floor.

Now

" . . . murder of millionaire Amatis Herondale." the woman looked gravely into the camera, her makeup flawless, "Police officer Imogen Herondale, the victim's mother-in-law, reports it to be a robbery on the estate, and nothing to do with her own status."

"No suspects have been reported, but Officers promise a report tonight outside of the Herondale Mansion- "

He switched the small TV off, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Jace couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a proper night of sleep. The extensive amount of training Hodge made him undergo earlier that day, along with this sudden news, and his girlfriend's party the night after next . . . It didn't bode well for Jace's sleeping schedule.

The Institute's basement door opened and slammed shut, Hodge walking in. Jace barely glanced up from rummaging through their supplies drawer. "You almost done? I need to talk over some things with you."

"Yeah, sure." Jace grimaced and nodded, his fingers finally grasping onto a cold, small cylinder after having to push aside countless bandages, small chakrams, and empty steles. "Found it!" Jace held it up in triumph. He used to take the "angelos auree sanguinem" through injection when he was younger, but since he'd been freed, the pen-like stele had replaced it. He pressed it against his skin, glancing back at Hodge before drawing. Jace inhaled sharply as the chemical soaked into his skin in the shape of ancient runes, marking his bicep ink black. The tonic would eventually wear away in a few hours, but the extra boost was needed that night.

Hodge, frowning, came up to Jace, watching as the lines swirled. Jace remembered countless lessons memorizing the ancient symbols from Hodge, learning how to draw them and what they meant to the people who had used them. The two particular runes Jace finished on his arm was meant to give the bearer Strength and Clarity. It didn't give any kind of extra power, but it was perhaps the only thing Jace could show on paper (or skin) of his 21 years of learning. Plus it just didn't look as cool if there were random lines and squiggles covering his chest and arms.

His mentor looked at him worriedly, finally blurting out, "I don't want you to go after Amatis's murderer."

Jace blinked and swiveled a 180 to face him. "What?" Not go after them? How could that even be a question? "Why not?"

"I thought you'd be opposed." Hodge merely smiled weakly, shuffling his hands awkwardly together. "I don't think you should investigate."

"I heard what you said the first time. I just don't understand." Jace said, staring blankly at Hodge. "She was our friend. Your friend. You said you knew her for a long time!"

"I know." Hodge replied uncomfortably. "But the cops are already investigating it thoroughly -" (Jace snorted) "-especially since the Chief of Police was her only living relative left. And the fact that she did know us, only proves the point that we shouldn't involve ourselves further!"

"What does that even mean? How can you be so insensitive!" Jace nearly shouted at his mentor, unsuccessfully swallowing back his annoyance and anger. The grip on the stele tightened. Amatis was the first woman Jace had ever befriended. His first introduction to the real world, to society, had been violently ripped away from him. "She helped us when we needed it, and we weren't there to help her when she needed us. We can't just forget about her."

"And we won't forget about her. But you're obviously emotionally connected to her, as am I." Hodge explained carefully. "We won't be able to think properly, and only make things worse."

"But what has all this practice been for? What has all these hours worked toward?" Jace paced the room, exaggerating his point. "We've started talking about it, but when would the opportune time be to start? What was going to push us? It's this Hodge! I can feel it. With my abilities, I can finally do what I've meant to do since birth: what I was created for . . . helping people." Jace finished, looking pointedly at Hodge. "That was its purpose, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Hodge sighed, sounding almost near defeat as he leaned against the computer desk. "That is its purpose - "

"Then why can't I go?" even to his own ears, Jace thought he sounded like he was a little child again, whining to Hodge when he was hungry, or when he accidently scorched the face of his favorite plush teddy bear.

"It's just . . ." Hodge sighed, running a hand through his thinning and graying hair. "I don't want you to get hurt in the process. Especially if your help isn't needed."

"Hey," Jace grinned easily, "I learned from the best. What could go wrong?"

Only shaking his head, Hodge didn't argue, but neither did he agree. "Do what you want, Jace. Just be careful and don't hurt yourself."

Then

"Down this last hall . . " Hodge huffed, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a suitcase in one hand. Jace obeyed quietly, his breathing even. He was the fittest he'd ever been and Hodge . . . well Hodge most definitely was not.

Jace looked at the hallway in front of him and saw himself round the corners. The mirror walls reflected everything back. Before, Jace had used it to inspect himself, check that everything was perfect and in place for the Inquisitor, whom he never did see during the evaluations. Now, he stared at the reflection in search of an answer from Hodge's strained face as they stealthily passed another "Dorm" area. It was identical to Jace's living space, and he always wondered who lived inside whenever he was escorted past it to the training room by Hodge. Never had he come across another like him in the entire building, or anyone for that matter . . . except, of course, Hodge.

So Jace felt at lost for words as they hit a staircase, the man in front of him practically jumping down the steps. What was so urgent for them to run so sudden, so secretively? Shouldn't the Inquisitor and the rest of the Consul be told of their leaving? Was the Tower under attack?

"Hodge," Jace's voice was uneven as he stepped onto each stair, "Is everything alright?"

"No." Hodge answered shortly and out of breath. "Nothing is alright."

Now

Jace's breath billowed out from his mouth, forming tiny white clouds in the dark. The chill didn't affect him, though. It never had. Luckily, it was one less thing to worry about, as Jace crept his way through the grounds of the police station quietly.

Jace crouched, eyeing the squat, official building, only a hundred feet away from him and at least a dozen cameras. Getting inside would be difficult, but not impossible. He took a deep breath, pulling the black ski mask over his face. Almost automatically, Jace could feel it stirring lazily inside the pit of his stomach, like a sleepy dragon waking up from a long nap. His head began to buzz and his ears ring. Just the anticipation of what Jace was hoping to do, to achieve tonight, had it begging for him to ignite, to lose control, and set everything around ablaze . . . but Jace couldn't let it. Wouldn't let it.

His heart beat also quickened from the excitement and tension; the fast pace felt like a hammer slamming against his chest. Jace leaned back against the large, decorative boulder near a small, frozen pond in front of the building and tried willing himself to just calm down.

Once his heart beat didn't resemble a squirrel during mating season, Jace began to form a distraction in his mind. Perhaps one that would draw the attention of the cops inside. There shouldn't be as many people on duty inside anyway with how late the night was. His breath was steaming out of him in short puffs. Jace could feel the palms of his hands heat up against the rock, the handprint red and staying when Jace removed them from the large stone. Cupping his hands into a ball, Jace breathed into them, feeling the rapid pulsating sensation in his hands, in his skin. Jace could almost see through his flesh, the whites of his bones showing. And it was only increasing in strength, in intensity.

All this happened within a few seconds, and then the fire was there, in his hands. Jace examined the area, his eyes catching on a bush, about a stone's throw away- or in this case - a fireball. Jace lifted the fire, biting his lip as he released it. The fire left behind a trail of smoke and ash, the path quickly disappearing and Jace focused, like everything was in slow motion, as it hit the shrub, almost immediately igniting the plant. Jace was reminded of The Burning Bush, from his biblical studies with Hodge, and the white brilliance of it.

But this was a golden blaze of fire, the flame shooting high up in the air like a flare. Almost immediately, Jace heard a door slamming shut, and several footsteps pounding against concrete. It was Jace's small opening that he had hoped for.

The cameras turned to the bush-on-fire; Jace darted forward then, almost slamming into the gray stone wall from his momentum. Four policemen were already near the burning bush, speaking quickly.

Jace inched his way along the wall, ignoring the commotion behind him. At the corner of the wall, he grasped onto the hilt of his sheathed sword, barely peeking around the edge.

Clear.

The side entrance that Jace had seen was for the janitor, who had a small closet that led to the rest of station. Jace ran to the glass sliding doors, swearing when they were locked. He tugged on the handle again, growing more and more frustrated when it wouldn't budge. Heart beating faster, Jace yanked at the handle . . . and frowned when suddenly, the handle melted in his hands, much to Jace's exasperation. He shook off the liquid metal, frustrated that he was being outwitted by a stupid sliding door.

Hoping he didn't have to make a loud entrance, Jace slammed his palm into the glass. As he was expecting, Jace lurched forward, his hand melting immediately through the thick, bullet-proof glass. He reached back inside the smoldering hole, yanking at the handle from the inside. Despite the awkward position, Jace succeeded in opening the door.

He paused for a moment, holding his breath. Illuminated just barely, Jace squinted into the small storage room, looking around for the source of the dim light.

Much to his surprise-but really he should've expected it, considering the amount of times it had happened-he found that the source of the light was coming from him, because his ski mask was partially on fire. Sighing in annoyance, Jace yanked it off, the light flaring up when the fabric touched his hands. In a matter of seconds, the mask was nothing but smoking ashes. Jace shoved the pile underneath one of the shelves and left it, along with the notion of discrepancy, behind him. He wasn't going to be sloppy, of course, but Jace wouldn't be crestfallen if someone saw him. Perhaps it was time for Idris to know of him.

Then

Jace was asking questions again after he took down the first five guards they'd encountered. The first time was instinct; an unidentified person coming past the next corner, Jace acted on instant reflex. But when the two had crept up behind an unknowing guard, Jace had hesitated, looking to Hodge for instructions. When the nod came, Jace frowned, wondering why on earth he was attacking people who had always protected him.

Hodge noticed his hesitation and came up behind the guard himself, quickly grabbing the man's head and slamming it into the wall before he could even react. "We don't have time to get sentimental. They certainly won't be sentimental toward you when they kill you."

"But they weren't-"

"I'll explain later, I promise. We need to get out first."

It was sufficient at first, but then the nagging feeling made everything feel wrong, like his world was tilted and it wouldn't right itself out. Why would The Clave kill him? Hodge had always told him that he was perfect, that no one else was as promising as he was. So why have him conceived and brought up if they were to just kill him anyway?

"Did I do something wrong?" Jace finally asked worriedly.

Hodge sighed heavily, stopping his fast pace to look back at Jace, trying to sound as patient as possible. "No, it's me. I've done some things that . . .they didn't like. You know I've always seen you as a son, and I couldn't bare to be parted with you. The Clave will think that I've told you something, and then put even more restrictions on your life. They might never trust you to leave."

"What do you mean? I don't have - "

"Yes, you do have restrictions, Jace. Do not believe that this life is normal."

And with that, Hodge had started up again, running down the next mirrored hallway. Jace only sighed; he'd hound him for answers once they'd gotten out of there.

Jace only waited for another five minutes to ask the next question: "How long till we get out then?"

What came out sounded close to chuckle, or a wheezing cough - Jace couldn't tell which - and then: "Soon."

Now

Somehow, Jace made it past two out of the three office blocks in the building. So far, Jace hadn't hit any rough patches, and he planned to keep it that way. And as far as he knew, no one had an inkling that an intruder may be lurking about the Department. Even though Jace wasn't too worried about being caught, he also didn't want to have to injure the good guys.

Creeping low against one of the desks, Jace ignored the red EXIT sign, silently and meticulously moving from desk to desk, swiftly opening each of the drawers and inspecting the files within.

About to make his way to the back of the last office block, Jace nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the door behind him creak open, followed immediately with a man's voice.

" . . . oddest thing I think I've seen on night watch. A drug bust is more normal than that."

A woman laughed, saying something Jace assumed was witty, but couldn't particularly pay attention to anything but the fact that he had just barely made it underneath a desk before they had a chance of seeing him. His heart was beating irregularly fast, and Jace feared that his breathing was too loud, and that maybe he was glowing again. But the two cops passed him without notice, and Jace found some relief that he didn't have to have a showdown in the middle of the police station.

Once the two had left the room, Jace jumped quickly to action. Choosing the police station over a trip to the morgue, Jace finished up searching the desks, sure that with such a demanding case, anyone could have it lying askew on their desk. He opened up the drawers, quickly fingering through the tan files, and then moved onto the next desk.

Then

"This is far enough," Hodge stopped at the corner of the fifth floor, the glass wall, displaying downtown Alicante. Large buildings blocked most of the horizon, but Jace could see the large white moon, hanging low in the sky, where it would slowly be replaced by the sun. If Jace was correct by the position, dawn would break in less than 3 hours.

"Why are we stopping?" Jace asked shakily, trying to regain his breath. "Don't we have to - "

"My biggest job is to make sure you are safe; it is the same for everyone I care for." Hodge nodded to Jace, gasping for air.

"Then why have we stopped?" Jace repeated the question impatiently. Wasn't Hodge the one stressing the fact that they had to get out of the Tower ASAP? Why was Hodge trying to express small sentiments with him that Jace already knew? "What has this got to do with anything?"

"I'm just reminding you . . ." Hodge inhaled deeply, finally catching his breath, glancing over Jace's shoulder to check for any intruders, "that you need to trust me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Jace asked, curious now.

Hodge trained his gray eyes on Jace with full seriousness and sincerity. "I need you to jump out the window."

Now

Luke Garroway, Raphael Santiago, The Silent Brothers . . . Jace slammed shut the fifth desk drawer. The sound was louder than expected, and Jace flinched at the BANG. Staring over his shoulder, Jace remained frozen in his ducked position for well over a minute. He dared for someone to come out, to yell for help, for a gun to be pointed at him. Jace would prefer it really, more than this agonizing wait.

His back ached, and his heart was pounding, yet again, and he could feel small tingles shoot through his abdomen as his power wanted to, yet again, let loose. But after staring at the door, and no one making an appearance, Jace slowly straightened up. Either the two policemen had dismissed the sound, or not heard it at all.

It seemed that every officer had similar crime cases except for the one on Amatis Herondale. Jace guessed that someone had to have the case file not under lock and key. It didn't make sense; the Chief of Police's last relative was murdered, and she wasn't trying to find the murderer? He pivoted the room, looking about dazedly; if there was nothing in here, Jace woul-

And then he saw it. He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He headed toward the back of the room, shoving aside whiteboards and smiling when he found what he'd been looking for. Splayed all over with multicolored magnets holding everything up, was the entire case on a white board. It was more than what Jace had been hoping for; not only were there pictures of the scene and inside the house, it also had several pictures of their leads, forensics report, and an analyzed list of mostly everything in the entire mansion. Apparently Imogen liked her things to be organized and easily seen for all. He took out his phone from his pocket and snapped a photo of each square of the board. With this help from the police, he concluded that it would be enough to go off of by himself, especially if Hodge had decided to refuse the help Jace needed of late.

Snapping the last section of the board, Jace squinted at some of the pictures. In one room of Amatis' house, he recognized her kitchen. On the table two wine glasses sat empty, with dishes in the sink. Jace averted to the next picture, shuddering a step back. He closed his eyes at the image, but it seemed of no use; the picture was seared into his memory.

Amatis lay in her own pool of blood, her throat slit horribly. Her hands were no longer present, and lay separate from her body by her feet. At the wrist were just cleanly cut nubs with purplish black skin surrounding it. As much as Jace was disturbed by the photo, he inspected it further, the knife marks unlike any he had seen.

" . . .but I didn't have time to pull my own gun out on . . . " one officer was saying to the other, before breaking off mid sentence. The door slammed shut; Jace had been too distracted to notice it opening.

He froze, muscles taut. Silence remained on the other side of the room, so Jace waited for the officers to make their approach.

"Don't move." said the female, the voice considerably closer and louder, the cock clicking into place,the sound amplified in the quiet room. Jace put his hands up, feeling like the air around him was electrified and pulsing with energy. "Now turn around . . . slowly."

Jace grimaced; he wasn't about to show them his features. As much as he wanted Alicante to know about him, identity was everything now. And Jace had one of those faces that one didn't normally forget.

"Do it . . .now." the firm voice added.

Frowning, Jace sighed. He had no intention of inflicting pain on others, nor had he plan on vandalism that night, but nevertheless . . . there was nothing else he could could resort to.

A shout of surprise was louder than the large WHOOSH of Jace's first fireball. He had made sure the path of destruction was no where near the two officers, so he didn't even check behind his shoulder as he bolted towards the doorway. A loud BANG stopped him in his tracks however, as his ears began to ring, and his vision suddenly became unfocused.

It looked like the fire had only bewildered the officers; unlike what Jace was hoping for, they were not even impaired or disabled by shock from the random spurts of fire that erupted from tendrils of Jace's own hair. If anything, Jace was in worse shape, while he tried to overcome the disorientation of the loud gunshot. As Jace ducked behind a desk, slowly regaining some of his hearing and balance, Jace could make out the slam of a door, and shouting voices. Jace patted the flames out of his hair, ash dusting his hands. It was a dead giveaway of where he was in the room.

Jace clasped his hands together, sure that if he touched anything, it would burst into flames. In the heat of the moment (no pun intended), Jace still wasn't sure he could control the fire. Sometimes it seemed as if his own body wanted to betray itself, leaving his power somewhat of a mystery throughout his entire life.

Because of this, Jace wasn't completely sure if the entire building wouldn't go up in flames in the next three minutes. Nor could he ensure the safety of the people inside. Jace took a deep breath, peeking out over the desk. The two officers were split up, inspecting different sides of the room. Jace would soon line up with the man's general sweeping of the area. Racking his brain for what to do, Jace tried to recall anything from Hodge's countless lessons in strategy. Nothing came to mind, blood pounding into his head as the male officer grew closer and closer. He decided to take the male, urban tactic - Jace prepared to jump the guy at the soonest hint that he had spotted Jace crouched . . .

"Wha-"

Jace tackled the man, easily dodging an ill thrown punch towards Jace's head, and avoided the gun swinging around wildly in the man's hand. Jace swiped the pistol, sending the gun spinning away behind the two still struggling on the floor. The man tried a chokehold on Jace, which he easily used to his advantage. Using the man's momentum, Jace sprang upwards, flipping over his back and twisting the officer's arm behind his back.

Jace had barely regained his breath before he heard a voice command, "Let go of him."

His first instinct, of course, was to grip tighter, making the man wince. The female officer had her gun pointed squarely at Jace, dark eyes glancing worriedly at her partner. Jace backed up into the shadows, keeping his face hidden when she glanced back at him.

"Let him go and I won't shoot." her brown eyes were hard with determination, her hands clenching harder onto the pistol.

"He's all yours." Jace shoved the man roughly toward the woman, glad to see them both fall over from the force. Jace turned around, and before either of the officers had time to react, or get up for that matter, had leapt through the window, glass shattering everywhere.

Then

Glass shattered everywhere, shards of it raining down with Jace as he fell. His stomach flew up to his throat and rolled and flip flopped. Cold air whooshed past his ears and out of his lungs, creating goosebumps that crawled their way throughout his entire body. It was exhilarating, the fifty feet jump, until Jace saw the ground coming closer and closer. He swore loudly . . . well screamed it really as he tried to flap his arms in a sad attempt to fly. Why couldn't he have the power to fly? It would be much more convenient . . . Jace squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see himself become one with the pavement as it was nearing 20 feet . . . 10 feet . . . and then . . .

His feet slammed onto the pavement and his legs give out underneath him and crack painfully. The air knocked out of him and he found that every muscle he moved nearly screamed in agony. Jace crumpled to the ground, moaning in pain. But he wasn't dead. That was always an upside. Jace blinked rapidly as a wet film covered his eyes. He gazed up at the now swirling tall, glass tower where he had been in just a minute before, when Hodge had pushed him out the window.

Jace was sure of many things: both of his legs were probably broken, Hodge would take another half hour at best without Jace with him, and that someone was going to see him very soon if he didn't move off of the sidewalk and crawl somewhere maybe The Clave couldn't see him.

But what if he did stay there? Jace entertained the idea. He could wait for someone to see him, and he could go back to his dorm, sleep in for a couple of hours, and train again. He looked around him; Jace didn't recognize anything. It was all foreign and strange and loud. Cars whizzed past, even at Midnight. Drivers irritably honked at each other. Somewhere in the distance, Jace could hear loud sirens, much like the sound of lock down drills in The Tower.

But if he returned and let himself be captured, it still wouldn't be the same. Even if Hodge had almost killed him with the window incident, Jace couldn't just leave him. There was no one else that Jace knew. He'd heard Hodge speak about others, like past friends and his own family, but never had Jace ever had that luxury.

So Jace pulled off his backpack, flinching as he did so, and rummaged through and found what he was looking for in an outside pocket. It was a dose of Angelos auree sanguinem, as Hodge named it officially. Jace better referred to it as simply "the tonic." The needle wasn't large, but it definitely wasn't small. He slammed one shot into the vein in his neck, wincing, and then sighing in relief as he squeezed the black chemical into his bloodstream. Jace found another and repeated the same process. He wasn't sure what would happen with two doses; he'd never taken two within a twenty four hour period, considering that the effects lasted for many hours. Of course, Jace had never had two broken limbs before, either.

Within a minute, it was so overwhelmingly stimulating. The buzzing in his ears, the sharpness of everything in bright colors, and the sensitive feeling in his gut that pulsed and tingled pleasantly were all attributes of the high he was currently riding. Jace gradually got off his knees, slowly testing out his legs. Surprisingly, Jace felt nothing. He might've been floating for all he knew. The overdose brought a feeling of weightlessness and euphoria he'd never experienced.

Jace straightened out fully and tried to focus. What was he to do while he waited for Hodge? He was definitely not going to stand there, but Hodge hadn't provided a list of instructions when he made the decision to push Jace out of the window. Think Jace, think . . .

He'd been trained by Hodge his entire life; what would he do? Jace racked his memory for any kind of strategy. Jace couldn't be out in the open any longer (he knew this for sure), but he couldn't just as well go wandering off and getting lost. He also needed to be in view of Hodge when he returned, so they could get a move on immediately. Jace stumbled forward, unsure if it was the euphoric drug spreading throughout his veins, or if it was the fact that his legs were broken and should be completely useless, and yet he was still up and walking.

All around him, towered huge buildings, making Jace feel as though they could sway and topple on top of him from the slightest gust of wind. Ridiculous, yes he knew, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was very, very small. Jace wanted to run, but there were too many directions too run to. So he stood there, frozen like an idiot, until he heard a large commotion come from inside The Tower. Jace recognized the drill sirens, except he knew that they weren't drills. The Clave had finally been alerted of the escapees, it seemed, and had Jace pacing anxiously on the sidewalk. Hodge needed to finish whatever was going on immediately, because getting out of The Tower was pointless if he was just going to get caught.

So Jace breathed, taking a small step onto the lawn near the pavement. A car stopped and then turned right, speeding away. Jace gulped, eyes wide and crossed the road. It felt like the hardest thing he'd done in his life.

Gazing up at his home, Jace felt breathless. It was so tall, one the largest on the block in fact, that blocked his view of much else behind it. It was made up entirely of glass, the black night reflecting darkly against the building. Jace was sure it was even more beautiful during the day, when the blue sky was reflected. How had it been that large? Jace's area never seemed too big. Other than the training room, the rest of the living space was small . . .

Jace shook himself for getting distracted, yet again. Really, he needed to stop doing that. Jace glanced around him, a few pedestrians eyeing him weirdly and hurrying past. Jace merely shrugged, continuing to stumble/walk down the sidewalk.

Now

Jace collapsed against the computer chair, feeling more exhausted than he had in a very long time. His black get up was still smoldering with smoking holes and rips, evidence of Jace's dangerous escapade. It was nearing dawn, which meant Jace would have a mere 2 hours of sleep (if he was lucky) before heading off to work. He pushed himself up and took off his shirt, clenching the bunched up fabric in hand and willed it to burst into flame. It was sadistically satisfying; the destroyed shirt was the one thing he wanted his powers to disintegrate that night.

Looking back, Jace felt ashamed; he'd left heaping piles of evidence for the Clave - who else would be able to melt a steel door handle and bulletproof glass?

Plus the fire-balls. The might've been a dead give away, actually, if the two police officers reported on how Jace had unusual access to fire. The Clave would catch on eventually when they heard the headline on the news, "Freak Attack at the Police Department: Psychopath armed with Lethal Flamethrower."

Jace glanced around the small apartment. The kitchen, dining room, and the living area were all combined, with the his study crammed into the corner next to the bathroom. The only doorway leading somewhere was his bedroom, which was just as small and cramped as any other in the complex. He was luckier than most; Izzy had pulled some strings for him to get this apartment so near downtown. She'd of course insisted on furnishing everything for him, since she had more than enough money.

She'd even hinted at him staying in her condo when they'd been hunting around for a new place to stay (Hodge had urged him to move out of Amatis' as soon as possible and get out into the "real world" as he so eloquently put it). But he quickly declined the offer, making up an excuse. Jace could see the angry glare sent his way, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize to Izzy or sympathize, for that matter.

After all, he already devoted almost every day with her, and with her crazy birthday celebration coming up, Jace didn't think he could pity Izzy for not spending enough time with her boyfriend. Not that he didn't enjoy being with Izzy, but her . . . overbearing personality was a weary on the soul if he spent too much time with her. Jace assumed it was because his entire life, the only person he knew was Hodge, who was a pushover and a softy.

Jace leaned further back in his chair, pushing his hair back out of his face. Everything that went wrong that night, it had happened mostly because of his clothes. It wasn't like he could go running around naked (it would definitely give him the element of surprise; they'd never know what hit them), and lack of clothing would only leave him exposed, and too much clothing just created even more problems.

The one good thing that came out of the toils that night, were the pictures. Jace pulled out his phone, sliding through a few of them. He narrowed his eyes at the one of her body; the slices were unusually cut. In some places the gashes were uncommonly deep, and then thin cuts around the other part of her neck. Each deep gash was proportional and equally spaced between each other, the longest one where her jugular had been. It had been ripped out and Jace decided he didn't feel curious enough to find out where it had been taken.

It hadn't been a knife that ended Amatis's life. Peering even more, Jace studied her torn apart throat. The irregular lengths led him to believe it had been a kind of saw, or maybe some kind of ridged sword . . .

Eyes drooping, Jace heaved himself up and undressed, throwing the excess clothing on the floor carelessly. He would clean it up later. All that Jace could think of now was collapsing on his bed and sleeping for a very, very long time. The tonic was reaching a low right now, his muscles feeling like lead. Stretching and popping a few kinks in his neck, Jace plopped down on the mattress and the pillows.

Tomorrow would be better.

It was a nice thought, but Jace wasn't completely sure that it would be true. Nor did he have the energy to convince himself of that tonight. A sense of dread filled him for a moment, though he was unsure of why. He'd see Izzy tomorrow, and tell Hodge of the curious murder weapon, and eat something, and shower, and . . .

Jace's eyes closed for good, not opening them again until the morning, when he received a very angry phone call . . .

Don't yall worry Clace is coming sooner than you think. Izzy and Jace won't last too much longer ;)

-Laura