Just wanted to let you guys know that the story is primarily told from Hazel's point of view, but on occasion we'll see it from other characters. Also, we're not meant to discover what Hazel is right away-the story is meant to keep you guessing! I know it's a tad confusing, but the characters are just as confused as you are right now so don't feel bad ;) Read and Review please!

*Jamie POV*


The last enchanted lock had barely snapped shut at the top of the Institute's front door when Ella tugged at the bottom of my black T-Shirt. I raised an arm and looked underneath it into her big green eyes, her wild red curls flying around her tiny round face.

"Excuse me sir, did the magic troll fairies forget to tell you that you needed a password to get in?" she chimed, her voice ringing like bells through the hall. I frowned in mock disappointment, too often I played along with her fairytale games...which I'd found ironic, considering she didn't know a damn thing about the world we truly lived in.

"Why no my Little Princess, they did not!"

"Well," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "There is one."

"Is it...Ella?"

"No!" she giggled as I wiggled my fingers at her in a threat to tickle.

"Is it...Little Shadowhunter?!"

"No!" she squealed, giggling as she fell to the floor. My fingers wriggled around her little tummy as she flashed a brilliant set of teeth, her eyes squeezed shut in joy.

"What about...JAMIE IS THE BEST BROTHER OF ALL TIME?!"

"OKAY! OKAY OKAY! That's the password!" she cried, pushing my hands away. I stared at her as she sat up. Even at only ten years old, she looked astoundingly similar to our Mother.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked quietly, smiling.

"You're always in trouble," she said matter-of-factly, pushing a curl away from her face lazily. "Mom and Daddy want to see you."

"Uh oh." I grinned, standing and helping her to her tiny feet.

I sighed as she lead me down the marble halls of the Institute, her hair bouncing along as she ran. The little ringlets reminded me of Maia's. Only an hour ago, I'd finally found her. The Clave had been searching for nearly 17 years, according to Mom and Dad at least. There wasn't supposed to be anything like her, and now I knew why. When I'd first seen her, I was...disappointed, to say the least. She'd looked so normal. Not only that, but she'd looked like a damn spoiled brat and acted like it, too. At least she was cute...I thought idly, turning a corner. Simon hadn't been lying when he said she'd look exactly like Maia. Even though she was only an infant when he'd last seen her, he'd always said "he had a hunch." Simon always had "hunches."

Her skin was the color of caramel and thick honey, and even though I'd only ever seen a few mixed girls in my life, she was beautiful, and so I'd had to assume that the rest of them in the world were beautiful, too. Simon had once told me something about one of her parents being mixed and the other being fully white or Italian or something- I'd never paid much attention when he talked anyways. The only thing bigger than her hair was probably her attitude, or her big, nearly black eyes. Those weren't Maia's, I'd known that from the pictures, but still...Hazel had a way of staring at you that would either freeze you to your core or melt the skin off your bones, and I wasn't sure yet which one I'd preferred.

My rambling thoughts came to a halt as I swung through the large double-doors of the Library. Mom was in her usual corner, perched on a tiny stool, an ink pen in her hand as she scrawled across the easel in front of her. Dad turned, the usual look of irritation holding his expression as he lazily shut the cover of a book and tossed it on the table, crossing his arms as he faced me. I scratched the back of my neck nervously as he raised an eyebrow, Mom turning to look at me pointedly. Even after three kids she was smaller than a 37 year old woman should've been, her dark red hair up in a knot at the back of her head.

"You're Father isn't happy with you." she said quietly, watching me.

"When is he ever happy with me?"

"Now is not the time to be a smart ass." Dad barked, seething. I narrowed my eyes at him, disbelief flooding my expression.

"Funny you say that considering everyone on this planet says I get it from you."

"I am your Father and you deliberately disobeyed me."

"It wouldn't be the first time, now would it?"

"Do you not understand what's at stake here? Your Mother was up ALL night worrying about you."

"Mom is up worrying about me every night, it's her thing." I countered. "Sorry," I added, when she rolled her eyes at me. "You know I have a point."

"You have no point," she countered, raising from her seat and walking over to me, holding my face in her hands. "We had everyone out looking for you."

"Why?!" I demanded, pulling away from her. "I'm not twelve years old anymore! Dad, come on!" I cried, standing in front of him with my arms up. "I'm seventeen! You were the greatest Shadowhunter of your generation when you were my age and you've taught me everything I know. Even you said I could be the greatest of all ti-"

"Yes! I said you could be the greatest of all time, that is if you live long enough!"

"JACE!" Mom cried, throwing a book in his direction. He dodged it with each, picking it up from the floor and flipping through the pages.

"Hamlet," he murmured. "Not my favorite." I sighed and resisted the urge to hit something. This wasn't fair. I'd been doing this for years, sneaking out, making my way into the armory and taking whatever I could find, killing demons on the fly as if it were a sport. Although it was nothing compared to the way he was treated as a child, my Father was exceptionally hard on me, training every day for hours on end, sometimes the nights blending into mornings and mornings blending into afternoons without either of us realizing it, and because of this I'd turned out exactly how he hoped I hadn't: I'd turned out just like him. I was fast. More than fast, I was extremely fast, and strong, and because more blood than usual for our kind ran through my veins I was twice the Shadowhunter anyone on this Earth could ever HOPE to be. I was incredible, and here my parents were acting like I was Ella's age.

Mom rolled her eyes in extreme irritation.

"Shadowhunters die and go missing all the damn time," I grumbled. "I should be no different."

"But you are different," Dad growled firmly, crossing his arms again."You're a Lightwood."

"You're our son," Mom corrected, tugging at my arm so I'd look at her again. "Our only son, and we won't lose you. We love you."

"Which is why we're grounding you." Dad cut in.

"WHAT?!" I cried, watching as Mom strolled back to her seat. "This is BULLSHI-"

"Language!"

"Sorry Mom. Dad, come on!"

"There will be no cumming on anything-"

"Jace!"

"Sorry, Love, I couldn't help it," he laughed. "Anyways, it's your own fault. You shouldn't have been sneaking out past curfe-"

"CURFEW? SHADOWHUNTERS DON'T HAVE CURFEW."

"They do when they're underage!"

"Oh come on there is no such thing as underage in our world."

"Do you suppose we should let Ella stroll about the streets in search of the undead, then?" Mom piped up, focusing on her drawing once more. I rolled my eyes.

"That's different. She's ten. Besides," I countered, hopping over one of the many cluttered desks and into my Father's path as he tried to flee the scene, "I found her."

"Found who?" Mom asked, turning to look at us.

"Hazel. Hazel Roberts."

Dad nearly tripped over himself and Mom suddenly had a hard time keeping her balance on the stool...both of them looked like panicked geese.

"YOU WENT LOOKING FOR HER?!"

"Dad, I-"

"WE SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO GO NEAR HER!" Mom cried, charging over to me, her fury burning almost as red as her hair. Ella snickered in the background, delighted to see me getting chewed out as I backed away quickly with my hands raised.

"No, if you would just listen to me-"

"LISTENING?! WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT LISTENING?" Dad demanded.

"Apparently a Hell of a lot more than you!"

"To Hell with it," Dad cried, throwing a bunch of loose papers into the air and sinking into a leather chair. "Give up, Clary. Our son is an absolute madman."

"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree..." she grumbled.

"Would you guys just look!" I demanded, raising my shirtsleeve. Dad looked at me like I was retarded, not understanding what he was supposed to be staring at.

"He's lost his damn mind." he grumbled as Mom narrowed her eyes.

"Jamie," she said warily. "Where's your angelic rune? I drew it for you only a few days ago."

"Exactly." I breathed. "I have no idea."

Dad shot out of his seat and watched as Mom examined my entire bicep, searching for the mark that she'd never find.

"Impossible." Dad said quietly. I shook my head.

"The second she touched me it's like we couldn't let go. We grabbed each other and she literally took my mark, it just disappeared and burned into her skin."

"That's impossible." Dad murmured again.

"What's impossible?" Anastasia asked, strolling into the library with her parents in tow. My cousin pulled her glossy black hair into a high ponytail on her head, the ends of it still brushing her ribcage because it was so long. Aunt Isabelle perched herself on top of one of the desks, Simon sitting in one of the chairs next to his daughter.

"Jamie's found someone who can burn runes," Mom murmured, looking over at Simon. "She took his mark. Literally took it! I've never even heard of something like that."

"I have," Simon shrugged. "I'm not quite sure what it's called, but it was said that those who drank the blood of Nathaniel held his ability control both the physical and spiritual aspects of Heavenly Fire."

"Nathaniel?"

"Angel of Flames." Izzy said matter-of-factly.

"But no one's ever drank the blood of Nathaniel," Anastasia argued, darting her dark brown eyes back and forth between all of us. Her small mouth was set in a firm pout. "I've never even heard of him."

"It's not often Outer Angels are called upon," Dad shrugged. "But it all makes perfect sense I suppose. It at least explains why she didn't die. A Downworlder couldn't bear a Mark, let alone a Rune, there's a possibility she's half Nephilim."

"No way, a Downworlder would die at the touch of an angel OR a Marking. It's nonsense...unless..."

"Unless she was given the blood before birth..." Isabelle murmured, looking horrified. "Did you see a Downworlder insignia anywhere on her body? They all carry one."

"If you're asking me to get her naked to find out, I support you one hundred percent and I am all for it." I grinned. Mom smacked me on the back of the head and Dad rolled his eyes.

"Who are we talking about again?" Simon asked, scratching his head. At the same time Mom said "No one." I said, "Hazel Roberts."

Simon froze, his eyes growing wide as every muscle in his body tightened. Isabelle clenched her jaw, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hazel? As in Maia's daughter?" she questioned, staring at him. Simon didn't answer, just sat there for a few moments before rubbing his face as if to wake himself up.

"I can't believe it," he murmured into his palms. "I just can't. I can't believe Maia really went through with it."

"She was desperate." Mom hissed, although I wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"We told you." Dad grumbled, looking at me. "We told you not to go looking for her."

"Why not?" I demanded, crossing my arms. "Why can't I go get her if she's driving everyone so crazy? The Clave have been hunting this girl for over a decade. I wanna know what's so damn important about her."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that she even exists?" Simon blurted out, his face bright red. I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. I'd never seen him so upset.

"Simon!" Mom hissed, eying him. He just kept shaking his head, running his fingers through his unruly mop of floppy curls.

"Now isn't the time to talk about this," Dad stated firmly, flickering his eyes between Anastasia and I. My cousin looked in my direction, crossing her arms and sticking her nose in the air the way she always did when she was about to lose her way. "We'll discuss this later on. Isabelle, I think it's about time we go see your Father."

I rolled my eyes as Isabelle and Simon rose from their seats, shoving past me as they followed my Mother up the tawny marble stairs that lead back to the double-doors. My Father paused, one hand resting on the door as he turned to look at me.

"Jamie," he called, looking down at me. "You are not to go near that girl again until we've got this all sorted out, do you understand me?" I didn't answer. "Jamie." he spoke louder, more firm. I glared at him from over my shoulder and he looked down, for a moment almost seeming as though he were saddened. "You are not to go after her again." he repeated. I turned back to my cousin as Dad slammed the large wooden door shut, leaving us with the quiet rustle of old pages and flittering dust in the musty air.

"You're going to find her again, aren't you?" Anastasia asked, a smile playing at her lips as she watched my expression. I smirked at her, shoving my hands in my pockets as mischief glittered in her dark eyes.

"Stasi," I started casually, rocking back and forth on my heels. "How do you feel about birthday parties?"