Wow. Okay, this'll sound really retarded, but I didn't realize I actually published the first chapter until yesterday. So...yeah.

She was late

Jace sighed, raking his slim fingers through his messy hair, trying to think of how he'd gotten himself into this.

Flashback

Jace shut the library door softly behind him, trying to appear relaxed, even as he felt his foster mother's cold stare on his tense back.

"Jace." Her voice was emotionless, flat. He turned unwillingly to look at her, refusing to flinch away from the look she was giving him. Distaste and scorn.

He jerked his head at her, cursing himself for being such a coward about this. Recently being in a fight with Clary, he felt more vulnerable than usual.

"Sit."

He shrugged. "I'd rather stand." He liked to pretend he had more authority if she was seated and he was standing.

Resentment flashed in her steely eyes, but her expression didn't change. "Very well," she said in a businesslike voice. "I'd like to talk to you about your sister."

Jace frowned. "What about Isabelle?"

Maryse exhaled sharply, in annoyance. "I'm talking about Clarissa, Jonathon. You're blood sibling."

If she saw Jace's flinch, she didn't awknowledge it, simply saying, "She needs training if she's going to be apart of this world."

Jace scowled. "Then train her," he snapped. "I don't see how this has anything to do with me."

Maryse gave him a bone-chilling smile. A cold one she used when she spoke of Downworlders. Except for it was directed at him.

"Oh, but Jonathon," she simpered in a sickly sweet tone. "It has EVERYTHING to do with you."

Jace didn't say anything. Instread he stood there, arms crossed as he waited for her to explain.

"You see," she sneered. "Since you were raised by Valentine, I thought you could teach her some of those moves your father taught you. After all," she leaned forward. "You were raised to kill and destroy, am I right?"

Seething, Jace whipped out an emerald studded dagger out and flung it at his foster mother's head with such force it made a humming noise.

Maryse, caught off guard, barely had time to duck as the dagger sliced into the bookcase behind her, stabbing a book.

She raised her head to yell and apologize to Jace, only to realize that he was gone.

End of Flashback

Jace rubbed the heel of his hand against his lids, exhaustion running through him. He hadn't been getting enough sleep lately, always awoken with nightmares are just unable to sleep at all.

It'd been five freakin' minutes. Christ. She was worse than Isabelle, who always was thirty minutes late, blaming it on cramps, makeup, right clothes...Girls.

Jace started. What if she was captured by Valentine or one of his demons on her way down? What if she'd fallen and broken her ankle? Dammit, Wayland-Morgenstern, chill, he ordered himself. She could walk even before you met her.

That left Valentine.

He ran out of the training room, panic starting to swallow him whole.

He paused, sniffing with bewilderment. Angel Perfume? What was Isabelle doing here?

Jace frowned, and jogged, following the strong smell of Isabelle's Angel Perfume. And was shocked to see Clary instead of the raven-haired Shadowhunter.

He immediataly felt angry at himself for worrying. Of course she was alright. But you knew that, moron, he cursed himself. You were just worried because you thought she was going to Simon's.

Whatever.

"You're late," he snapped in a quiet, scornful tone.

She jumped at his voice, spinning around.

Jace blinked. He'd seen crazy shit before, but nothing prepared him for what Clary looked like at the moment.

She looked like the fuckin' Joker.

She wore smeared fire engine red lipstick, white stage makeup caked her face, with the faintest hints of pink blush on her cheekbones. Her eyeliner went to her temple, and she had green eyeshadow.

Jace, trying to swallow his laugh, ended up choking and coughing.

Clary glared at him. "What's so funny, douchebag?"

He snorted. "Your face."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Nice. But that expired years ago."

Poor girl. "No," he choked out as he struggled not to laugh at her clown-like face. "I mean your face."

A horrified look crossed over her makeup, and Clary darted over to one of the floor length mirrors in the hallway.

Jace snickered. Clary's eyes popped out at her reflection, and her mouth dropped. "Not cool," she muttered under her breath.

Jace bit his tongue, but it came out anyway: "Don't worry about it. I always had a fetish for Batman."

Dodging Clary's fist, he walked quickly down the halls, knowing she wouldn't be able to catch him with those short legs, even running.

"It's time for training."

Clary refused to wash the crap off her face. Jace could laugh, but she would get a chance to kick his butt during training.

He was standing in the middle of the training room, arms crossed over his chest.

"Alright, Joker," he said in a cheerful voice, ignoring the glare she threw at him. "Down to business. I want you to pretend to be spiderman."

Ookay. "Is that Shadowhunter Code for something?"

Jace rolled his eyes. "No," he told her in a 'duh' tone. "First off, we don't have 'Shadowhunter Codes' except for our weapons' names. Second, Spiderman means I want you to climb up the wall, with out falling, and then backflip down. And land on your feet," he added.

Either I'd be dead or in a wheelchair by the time this lesson was over, she thought sighing.

"JACE."

Clary's short nails were digging into the wall as she awkwardly tried to scramble up the steep wall.

Jace ignored the concern that was nagging at his brain. Which was weird, because if it had been Izzy, he'd be laughing at her, and telling her to take off her damn French Tips.

But it was disconcerting watching Clary try to climb up to the ceiling. She was halfway up,and since it was the first day, he'd let her take the corner.

"You assclown!" she growled, hitching her foot up a ittle higher. "This is abuse!"

Jace lost her on assclown, his eyes wondering to the shorts that hugged her thighs...

"My face is up here, dumbass."

Jace's eyes snapped up at a scowling Clary. "Don't look down," he warned her, but it was too late.

Clary's eyes fell on him, and her eyes widened with a gasp, as she lost her footing and careened down to the ground.

Hah. Guess makeup's not Clary's thing...

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