The Two of Them (But Really Many More)

by CrystalHeartZyx

Sequel to "The Five of Them (But Really Only Two)." Follows The Dark Artifices. Things get crazy as Finnegan and Fionn's story continues, but there are things about Fionn's lost past that come to haunt him. By the time all is said and done, he might never be the person any of them had known ever again.

2. You Make Me Smile, Even Just For a While

Daylight savings is a thing. Life is also a thing. My response?

UUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH

Would you believe that the hardest part of this story is finding the songs to use for the chapter titles? Because it is. I'm like, "I need to save the dramatic songs for later and even the good ones about being in love I wanna use later, so what else is left?!" I mean, I want songs with dramatic and catchy lyrics that I don't find annoying, but unfortunately, the most popular songs these days are either so good I want to save them for later or they make so little sense that all I can hear when they sing is "Ahhooohwaaaahblaaah" with electronic editing. Here's a tip: if I can't understand the lyrics of at least 75% of your song without having to look up the flipping lyrics online and I don't even come close with my best guess, you are NOT DOING IT RIGHT.

Enjoy! :P

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Emma hit the training mat hard, rolling quickly so that Cortana (her family's heirloom and her most prized possession), still strapped to her back, wouldn't be damaged - or damage her. In the early years of her training, she'd inflicted more injuries on herself by accident with Cortana's sharp edges than any exercises had, thanks to her stubborn refusal to take it off. Cortana was her father's and her father's father's. She considered herself and Cortana the last of the Carstairs family. She never left the blade behind when she went to fight, even if they planned to use daggers or holy water or fire. Therefore she needed to know how to fight with it strapped to her in every conceivable circumstance.

Finn jumped down next from the same height, rolling to his feet and continuing forward a few more steps to show that he was ready to use his inertia to continue running if necessary. He had the bow of his violin in his hand, grabbed from his back during the roll, ready to strike at anything he needed to hit. Selina was beside him, drawing her bow (the weapon one, not the instrument one) as well as an arrow in the air and rolling to one knee on her landing, ready to fire by the time she'd come to a stop. The arrows in her quiver were locked in for any acrobatics that might occur and would only come loose when she pulled one with enough force. With the push of a button, she could lock them in the quiver for storage so that no one but she could use the quiver or the arrows inside.

"Are you all right?"

Cristina hit the mat beside Emma more lightly than Emma had done. She wasn't armed and was wearing only her training clothes, so she didn't have to worry about any sharp weaponry. Cristina had sense.

Emma sat up and rubbed her sore shoulder and then stood to shake out the kinks in her muscles. "Fine. One more time."

"I'm ready for more," Finn announced. "Let's go, Carstairs."

"This is so boring though," Selina whined, slipping her arrow back into her quiver and slinging her bow over her shoulder. "Just jumping, jumping, jumping. Sergei had us jumping for a solid month during our training. A month! I'm getting flashbacks."

"Well prove that you learned something from that month," Finn suggested, already following Emma up the rope ladder. "Or can you not keep up with the best Shadowhunters out there?"

"In your dreams, Finnegan."

She rushed over to climb after them. The medal around Cristina's throat gleamed decorously as she craned her neck back, watching the three of them shinny back up the rope ladder. Dark gold sunlight was pouring through the windows - it was late afternoon. They'd been training for hours, and before that they'd been busy bringing the contents of Emma's Wall of Crazy (though Cristina insisted on calling it the Wall of Proof since Emma wasn't crazy. Sorta) into the computer room so Livvy and Ty could scan it all. Livvy was still promising to come train with them, though she'd clearly been absorbed into the online search for clues.

"You can stop there," Cristina called when Emma was halfway up, but Emma ignored her and kept going until her head was nearly bumping the ceiling, Finn and Selina right behind her. Emma looked down. Cristina was shaking her head, managing to look both composed and disapproving at the same time. "You can't jump from such a height! Emma-!"

Emma let go and dropped like a stone. She hit the mat, rolled, and sprang up into a crouch, reaching back over her shoulder for Cortana. Her hand closed on empty air. She shot upright, only to find Cristina holding the blade. She'd slipped it from Emma's scabbard as she was rising to her feet.

"Bomb's away!" Finn called, having climbed up to Emma's previous position and dropping down to roll and end up on his feet beside Emma and Cristina, standing at attention casually like he'd been there all along and hadn't just fallen from the ceiling of the training room. "Sup?"

"Showoff!" Selina called, mimicking Finn except she whacked him on the back of his head when she rolled to her feet beside him.

"There is more to fighting than jumping the highest and falling the farthest," Cristina said, handing Cortana back to Emma.

Emma rose and took the blade back with a grudging smile. "You sound like Jules."

"Maybe he has a point. Have you always been this careless about your safety?"

"More since the Dark War," she admitted.

Emma slipped Cortana back into its scabbard. She drew the stiletto blade from her boots and handed one to Cristina before turning to face the targets painted on the opposite wall. Finn and Selina produced their own daggers and waited their turn as Cristina moved to Emma's side and raised the blade in her hand, sighting down along the line of her arm. None of them had thrown knives with Cristina before, but they were surprised to see that Cristina's posture and grip on the knife - her thumb parallel to the blade - were perfect.

"Sometimes I regret that I knew little of the war. I was in hiding in Mexico. My uncle Tomás was convinced Idris would not be safe."

Finn tried not to remember Idris back during the war. He, Selina, and Merida had still been teenagers, but they had fought with everything they had. The three of them went from Institute to Institute, using a warlock's help (Lock, actually, but Merida and Selina didn't know him at the time) to fight their way through every Institute they could think of. It was fight after fight, loss after loss. They liberated a good deal of Institutes from the invading forces, hunted the Endarkened down with a vengeance, but there was always a cost. They couldn't be everywhere at once, at any moment they could be felled by one moment of bad luck, and so many had already suffered before the three of them could make it to help. Idris was the last place they visited, and the beautiful heart of the Nephilim culture had been set ablaze. The streets ran red with blood, bodies were stacked like kindling in the Accords Hall.

Finn didn't know about his sister and his parabatai, but he had been in a daze at the time. Stop the enemy, identify the survivors. He used any weapon that he could get his hands on, particularly melee weapons that didn't need reloading. He stayed moving, his brain working at full capacity for the fight. He had been so focused on surviving, destroying the invaders, and saving the helpless, he had been so fatigued and tired as he pushed himself beyond his limits, that he hadn't fully taken in the situation for what it really was. He hadn't allowed room for his emotions, he didn't have the strength to. When the fighting had stopped, Finn hadn't realized it at first. It took Merida and Selina working together to get him to release his sword - a broken sword that he had snapped during the fight. He must've gone through a dozen swords alone during that battle. His hands had been trembling, gripping the hilt like a lifeline as he nearly stabbed his sister when she startled him, calling out his name five times and shaking his shoulder before he responded. Finn remembered dropping the broken sword, hearing it clang to the ground at his feet. It was like a starting bell - or maybe an ending one - that cut through the daze he'd been in.

A moment later, Finn had fallen to the ground sobbing with his two best friends by his side. A lot of people had hailed him as some sort of hero that day, talking about him as though he, his sister, and Selina had done something good and saved them all. But they hadn't. All they'd done was fight just like everyone else. They liberated dozens of Institutes; there had to have been hundreds of Shadowhunters that had thanked them. But Finn didn't hear any of them. He just thought about the hundreds that he hadn't saved. He only saw the dead bodies that had to be collected in the clean up of Idris and the rebuilding that had to be done on the Institutes. He, Merida, and Selina had volunteered to help rebuild as many as they could.

Finn had received honors, just like so many others, but it didn't mean much to him. He couldn't quite understand it at the time. He hadn't saved the world, he hadn't stopped Valentine or Sebastian (or Jonathan, or whatever his name was. The Morgensterns, let's just call it that). He wasn't a hero. All he saw were those who lived and those who died. He had lived, so many others had died. The congratulations had died down within the week. His father had just nodded at him, as though he was acknowledging Finn's survival but he hadn't cared either way. There was no proud father-son moment, and Finn hadn't expected one in the first place.

He had sat in a daze for some time, though he wasn't sure how long. He remembered going to the meeting grounds, crying when he saw that all his friends were still alive. Wolf had a few new scars, Pyre had a dark look in her eyes to show she had seen things she'd rather not see, and Lock had healed up good as new. But it was Fae that had surprised him most. Fae had been terrifyingly calm, but without words, he had fully understood. Finn had stuttered through his sobs as Fae hugged him tightly, trying to explain the images that had refused to leave his mind, and Fae had somehow known. He had fallen asleep at the meeting grounds, but he suddenly felt better the next day, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, like a fog had been lifted from his mind. He had never asked Fae what he had done, but Finn could still look back on his memories of the war with pain. It just didn't debilitate him like it once had. That didn't make it any less painful though, seeing the images of the gore and horror flash through his head like needles striking through his brain.

"Your uncle was right," Finn declared sharply.

Finn chucked his knife without first aiming, using his left hand since he was practicing with left today (he alternated in order to teach himself to be ambidextrous). The knife flipped through the air, making a small curve in its trajectory to hit the target dead center.

"He died in the war, so I suppose he was," Cristina responded simply. She released her blade as well; it flew through the air and thumped into the central ring of the target. "My mother owned a house in San Miguel de Allende. We went there, because the Institute was not safe. I always feel a coward when I think about it."

"You were a kid," Emma said. "They were right to send you where you would be safe."

"Maybe," Cristina muttered, looking downcast.

"Really. I'm not just saying that," Emma insisted. "I mean, how does Perfect Diego feel about it? Does he feel like a coward?"

Cristina made a face. "I doubt it."

"Of course not. He's totally well-adjusted about everything. We should all be more like Perfect Diego."

"I don't think I even wanna know," Selina sighed, a hand on her forehead.

"Hello!"

A greeting rang through the room. It was Livvy, in practice gear, heading towards them. She paused to pet her saber, which was hanging on the wall near the door with the other fencing swords. Livvy had chosen the saber for her weapon when she was about twelve years old and had practiced tenaciously ever since. She could discourse on types of saber, wooden grips versus rubber or leather ones, tangs and pommels, and it was better not to get her started on pistol grips. Merida would like her, Finn thought to himself.

"I missed you," Livvy crooned to the saber. "I love you so much."

"That was heartfelt," Emma said. "If you'd said that to me when you got back, I would have cried."

Livvy abandoned the saber and bounced over toward them. She commandeered a mat and began to stretch her muscles. She could fold herself easily in half, tucking her fingers under her toes. Finn snorted. Girls always had it easier when it came to flexibility. He had to train for ages before he could match the girls (when not using runes, of course, since they did their training without runes to be prepared for situations when they weren't available).

"I did miss you," Livvy said, voice muffled. "It was boring in England and there were no cute boys."

"Is that really the only thing that teenage girls think of?" Finn asked.

"No. We think of cute girls too," Selina said.

"Uh, depends on the person," Livvy interjected.

"Julian said there were no humans for miles," Emma said. "Anyway, it's not like you missed anything here."

"Well, aside from the serial killings," she corrected, moving across the room to take up two throwing knives. The four of them moved out of the way as she lined herself up across from a target. "And I bet you dated Cameron Ashdown again, then dumped him."

"She did," Cristina piped up.

Emma shot her a look that said 'TRAITOR' in big bold letters, all caps, italicized, and underlined.

"Ha!" Livvy's knife went wide of the target. She turned around, her braid bouncing on her shoulders. "Emma goes out with him, like, every four months, then dumps him."

"Even we know about that," Selina drawled, tossing a throwing knife between her hands. "Everyone in California knows about Emma's reputation with him. See, this is why I don't do dating." She tossed her knife a few inches up, caught it, and then chucked it at the target to hit her blade right beside Finn's. "I don't get why you date someone just to break up with them, then do it all over again. What did Einstein say the definition of insanity was?"

Cristina cut a glance towards Emma. "Why has he been singled out for this special torture?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Emma groaned. "It wasn't serious."

"Not to you," Livvy said. "Bet it was to him."

"As a guy, I can tell you that we feel emotions just like you girls," Finn commented. "Our kind has pride and can have reputations about not being serious about relationships, but guess what? Some of us actually do dating because we really love someone. It's just cruel to think that you date him knowing that it isn't serious to you."

The four of them all shook their heads in disappointment.

"Ugh, you all are ganging up on me now?" Emma said. "Is this how you treat your friends? Huh?"

"Well, that's one way faeries are superior to Shadowhunters," Selina said. "They take love seriously, believe in complete and total fidelity of the heart."

"They have their…flaws," Finn admitted. "But, I mean, it's gotten them this far in the world. Not to say they don't need improvement like everything always does, but hey, at least they've succeeded - mostly - in the love category."

"Done a lot of thinking about this?" Emma asked.

Finn shrugged. "Sure. Helen and Aline's wedding hopefully got a lot of people thinking - for the better, of course."

Livvy held out her second knife to Cristina. "Wanna try?"

Cristina took the knife and moved into Livvy's position.

"Who's Perfect Diego?" Livvy asked.

Cristina had been frowning at the knife; now she turned around and gaped at Livvy.

"I heard you," Livvy said cheerfully. "Before I came in. Who is he? Why's he so perfect? Why is there a perfect boy in the world and no one's told me?"

"Hey, what about me?" Finn protested.

"Oh, you poor, almost innocent, sweet child," Selina sighed, patting him on the shoulder.

"Diego is the boy Cristina's mother wants her to marry," Emma told Livvy. Now it was Cristina's turn to look betrayed. "It's not an arranged marriage, that would be gross; it's just that her mother loves him, his mother carried the Roasles name-"

"He's related to you?" Livvy asked Cristina. "Isn't that a problem? I mean, I know Clary Fairchild and Jace Herondale are a famous love story, but they weren't actually brother and sister. Otherwise, I think it would probably be a…"

"Less famous love story," Emma finished with a grin.

Cristina threw her knife, hitting close to the target's center. "His full name is Diego Rocio Rosales - Rocio is his father's last name, and Rosales his mother's, just like my mother's last name is Rosales. But that doesn't mean we're even cousins. The Rosaleses are a huge Shadowhunting family."

"Like FDR and Eleanor Roosevelt!" Finn jumped in. "Both descendants of Teddy Roosevelt but one of them was from a line that was twice removed or something."

"My mother just thinks he's perfect," Cristina continued. "So handsome, so smart, such a Shadowhunter, perfect, perfect, perfect-"

"And now you know how he got his nickname," Emma said, going to retrieve the knives from the wall.

"Is he perfect?" Livvy asked.

"No," Cristina said firmly.

Finn had noticed that when Cristina got upset, she didn't get angry - she just stopped talking. She was doing that now, staring at the target painted on the wall.

Emma spun the knives she'd retrieved in her hands. "We'll protect you from Perfect Diego. If he comes here, I'll impale him."

"Emma's a master of the impalement arts," Livvy agreed.

Emma moved toward the throwing line.

"You'd be better off impaling my mother," Cristina muttered. "All right, flaquita, impress me. Let's see you throw two at a time."

"Flaquita?" Finn whispered to Selina. "Never learned that one."

"Skinny," Selina whispered back.

A knife in each hand, Emma took a step back from the throwing line. She had taught herself to throw two knives at once over the course of a year, throwing again and again, the sound of the blades splitting the wood a balm to shattered nerves. She was left-handed, so normally she would have taken a step back and to the right, but she'd forced herself to be nearly ambidextrous. Her step back was direct, not diagonal. Her arms went back and then forward; she opened her hands and the knives flew like falcons whose jesses had been cut. They soared toward the target and thudded, one after the other, into its heart.

Cristina whistled. "I see why Cameron Ashdown keeps coming back. He's afraid not to." She went to retrieve the knives, including her own. "Now I'm going to try again. I see that I am far behind where I should be."

Emma laughed. "No, I was cheating. I practiced that move for years."

"Still, if you ever change your mind and decide you don't like me, I'd better be able to defend myself."

Emma and Livvy retreated back in a whispered conversation near the rack of gloves and protective gear. Cristina paced back and forth at the throwing line while Selina watched attentively, but Finn increased his hearing to listen to what Emma and Livvy were talking about.

"Did you get anywhere with Ty? And the parabatai thing?" Emma asked with dread peeking through her tone.

"He still says no," Livvy said sadly. "It's the only thing we've ever disagreed about."

"I'm sorry."

Livvy and Ty seemed like a close a pair as ever, being twins and all. Brother and sisters becoming parabatai wasn't unheard of, even if it was a bit unusual. Ty refusing the sister that he seemed willing to walk to the edge of the world for was surprising to Finn.

Cristina's first blade slammed home, just at the rim of the target's inside circle. Emma cheered from across the room while Finn clapped. He wondered why that was cheer-worthy, but he supposed that his father was getting to him. Finn's father had never found Finn's actions enough, so when he got to the highest height possible, the best response that he got was his father saying nothing. Throwing a knife at a target like Cristina was at twice the length of the target line was expected of him as the basics.

"I think Perfect Diego might've broken her heart," Livvy said quietly to Emma.

"He did something," Emma said guardedly. "That much I've guessed."

"So I think we should set her up with Julian."

Emma stumbled and nearly overturned the rack she was leaning on. "What?"

Livvy shrugged. "She's pretty, and she seems really nice, and she's going to be living with us. And Jules hasn't ever had a girlfriend - you know why." Emma said nothing. "I mean, it's our fault - mine and Ty's, and Dru's and Tavvy's. Raising four kids, you don't exactly have a lot of time to date. So since we sorta took having a girlfriend away from him…"

"You wanna set him up," Emma said blankly. "I mean, it doesn't work like that, Livvy. They'd have to like each other…"

"I think they could. If we gave them a chance. What do you say?"

Something in Emma's tone, the way she paused and how Finn could see her when he snuck a couple glances, Emma was very uncomfortable with the idea of her parabatai entering the deadly world of dating. She opened her mouth to say something, but she didn't seem to have her thoughts together yet.

Cristina's second knife slammed into the wall so hard that the wood seemed to crack.

Livvy clapped her hands. "Awesome!"

She shot Emma a triumphant look as if to say, 'See? She's perfect.'

Cristina walked over to retrieve her knives, having to tug hard from how deep they were embedded.

She handed the two over to Finn. "So, as the Shadowhunter in competition with Emma for the next Jace Herondale, think you can best us?"

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Watch me. That two-knife trick was nothing, Emma Carstairs."

"Oh?" Emma smirked in challenge. "What have you got?"

Selina laughed out loud, doubling over as she struggled to gather herself enough to speak straight. "Girl, you're looking at the guy who juggles knives when he's having a panic attack in order to keep himself grounded. Finnegan is the best knife handler I know. His main weapons are knives of all kinds. His father's a strict guy. If you can't throw at least three knives at a time at moving targets, you're getting a lecture on responsibility."

"Three at a time?" Cristina repeated.

"I can go up to ten," Finn bragged. "If we're limiting ourselves to using only my hands."

"He can kick knives with accuracy too," Selina explained.

"Oh really?" Livvy crooned.

"Stand back, ladies," Finn smirked.

The Shadowhunters stepped back, but Selina pulled them just a little further away. Finn backed up as far as he could to the opposite end of the room. It was far from his maximum range, but it was still a hard shot. Gravity and wind resistance had to be taken into account, though the wind resistance when indoors was a lot easier than when outdoors and especially easier than in harsh weather. It was all about feeling the direction that the knife - or any projectile really - was going to go based on the forces applied, feeling where it was going even after it was soaring through the air and away from the thrower. It wasn't something that could be taught with words. It was experience with all weights, all aerodynamics, all lengths, and external conditions.

Finn took three knives into his hand, tossed them up once to get their weight and assess all the factors he could (after all, sometimes you only had a few split seconds to test what you were throwing before you needed to throw it), and then chucked them high into the air all at once. He purposefully put a slight bit of spin into the weapons so that they would go at the ark he needed and come down so that he kicked the handles and not the blades (because that would be bad, especially if he didn't have the right shoes on). He jumped up, spun in the air and then kicked the blades with the largest arc he could manage with his leg, accounting for his lack of runes to aid him.

In a split second, like bullets, the knives were in the arc of his throw and then they were suddenly in the target. But Finn wasn't done. The moment he landed, he spun and twisted his body so that he could fling another three knives at once toward a second target all at once which he pulled from his collection. He threw the first three backhand, but then he threw five at a time with his other arm over hand, using the same spin to build momentum for all of them. The five didn't land in the same place, but they were evenly spaced out across the target, since the only reason he'd ever need to use five knives at once would be for multiple targets spaced out. If anything, it was hard to hold himself back for such a small range with all five knives.

Livvy clapped, Cristina stared, Emma squinted in annoyance at being bested.

"In your defense, girl, Finnegan is specifically trained in knife throwing," Selina said, patting Emma on the shoulder. "And polearm throwing - so javelins, spears, etc. And he's not too shabby with a bow and arrow."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm terrible with greatswords," Finn said. "Maces, hammers, heavy stuff like that. I'm good at being quick with light weapons."

"So does that mean you're up for that sparring match?" Livvy asked eagerly.

"Sure. I wanna see how you use that saber."

"You're asking for it, Finnegan!"

She rushed over eagerly to snatch up her prized weapon. The two of them lined up on the training floor with Emma and Cristina far back. Selina stood between the two as a referee of sorts while Livvy swung her weapon around to get herself ready. Finn simply smiled with his arms crossed, waiting to begin.

Selina shook her head with a sigh. "Remember ladies, Iratze exists, but try to avoid dismemberment and decapitation. Striking with lethal force is important, but striking to debilitate and not kill is just as, if not more important. It's easy to strike your enemy down, it's hard to preserve them will still being victorious."

"First one to injure their opponent so they can't move?" Livvy asked.

"Um, how about no?" Finn said. "Julian would kill me if he found out I paralyzed you, training match or not."

"Fair point, but maybe you're just scared of what I can do to you."

"In your dreams, Livia. I've seen much worse than you. In a real fight, I'd turn all of your surroundings against you, probably hold your family hostage, and then make them watch as I used your own saber to cut you open while keeping you alive."

"He wasn't this violent before, I swear," Selina sighed, her hand on her forehead. "He was a timid child. Really."

"Ha, I'd like to see you try," Livvy responded, undeterred. "So, what's your weapon of choice?"

"Simple."

He pulled the bow of his violin off his back and flicked it in challenge, fast and elegant for a male like he was dancing. Then again, wasn't a lot of sword fighting just a dance - a little more deadly, but a dance, nonetheless? His bow was maybe a third the size of Livvy's saber and much lighter, but it had a noticeable sharp point at the end and the structure of the bow itself was sturdy and sharpened.

"You can't be serious."

He held up the bow. "Adamas with enchanted hairs. It's near indestructible. I assure you, I'm deathly serious."

Livvy smiled. "Well then, let's see what you got."

Selina took a step back and raised her hand. "We go until a lethal shot might have been made, but do not completely follow through. I mean it, both of you."

Finn shrugged. "Come on, Seels. Don't you trust me?"

"We're parabatai. Of course I don't trust you."

"Fair enough."

"How does that work?" Livvy asked.

"I know him well enough to know that he's not making any promises," Selina explained. "Just look at the smirk on his face, the evil leer in his eyes."

"Gee, thanks parasista," Finn muttered.

"No prob, parabro."

Livvy sighed. She held up her weapon eagerly. "Let's just get on with it already!"

Selina sighed. "I give up. You know the rules. Kill my parabatai and I kill you, Livia Blackthorn. Beyond that…have at it." She raised her arm and then threw it down, taking a large step back. "Begin!"

Livvy was fast. Finnegan matched her speed. There was a clash of weapons, Finn's smaller and lighter bow holding up to Livvy's saber easily. There was a flurry of motion, the two dancing around each other as they were both offensive and defensive at the same time, blocking the other's attacks while attempting to strike with their own. There was a clanging of metal as their weapons clashed back and forth. Livvy was concentrating hard, enjoying the challenge, while Finn was studying Livvy's moves calmly. He wasn't putting in his full effort, Selina knew, but then again, neither was Livvy.

Livvy smiled and pushed forward, taking the offensive in their clash of equal powers to try and take the lead. Finn almost seemed excited to have to suddenly go on the defensive, which he probably was. He had something planned. He took a few steps back as Livvy advanced forward, their weapons constantly clashing faster and faster. To the untrained eye, their weapons might be completely untraceable, but the two of them were paying close attention to look for openings and block all attacks that came their way. Livvy seemed surprised that Finn was keeping up with her surge of speed and concentration, but rolled with it. They danced around each other with an increasing rhythm, and both seemed invigorated at having an equal opponent.

Finally, it was Livvy who made a strike at Finn's opening, striking her saber forward at the base of his neck. Her weapon stopped just as the tip came close to his skin. But it wasn't because she had stopped herself. Her saber had gone through his bow, right between the bow stick and the hair, but he had twisted it so that her weapon came to a stop without her consent. The bow was slightly shaking from the force required to hold her back at that angle, but he was doing it with relative ease and smiling. It was the freaking bow of a violin, after all, holding back a saber.

He twisted his bow and pulled Livvy's weapon right out of her hand, spinning around and releasing his bow off the end of the saber as he grabbed the handle and elbowed Livvy to the training mats below them in her shock. In one circular motion, he turned her own saber against her, pointing it down at the base of her neck where she'd been pointing it at him only moments before.

"So, are you considered defeated yet?"

She blinked. "I concede. Wow, that was awesome."

He lowered the saber, but didn't lower his guard. Even after conceding, it was common for his sparring partner to get the jump on him despite the match being over. Weren't friends just great like that? Finn sheathed his bow onto his back and then offered his hand to Livvy. She stared at it and took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He handed her the saber, weary of a possible attack, but Livvy wasn't tense and still in a battle position. Still, a good Shadowhunter new what their enemies were looking for and how to fake it.

"I can see why you and Emma are at odds. You've got skill, I admit. But I'm still rooting for Emma."

Finn chuckled. "I'm fine with that. Emma deserves the title of 'The next Jace Herondale' more than me. I don't wanna be the next Herondale - or be compared to one, at least. I wanna be the first me. Being famous isn't in my game plan."

"Humble too? Aw, you and Emma would be great together. It's clear you can keep up with her, and no boy but Julian's ever been able to do that."

He laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

She glanced at her watch. "Okay, I have to go help Ty some more. Yell for me if anything awesomely exciting happens. It's been nice sparring with you, Finnegan!"

Livvy danced away to hang up her weapons and head for the library.

"Did Livvy say something?" Emma asked.

"Oh, nothing," Finn shrugged. "Just a congrats and some praise and going back to help Ty."

"Oh."

Emma still looked shaken, lost in her own thoughts. Finn was going to ask, but then a commotion burst out from downstairs. They all heard the sound of someone pounding on the front door, following by running feet.

Instinctively, the Shadowhunters dashed out the door in a flash.

-TTOT-

When Lock arrived at the spot Fae had told him that he'd be, he was surprised to find that it was an Institute - the L.A. Institute no less. What was even more surprising was that a portal appeared and out popped a tall, pale-haired man, wearing tight black pants and a shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, a plaid jacket hanging from his shoulders.

"Malcolm!" Veon called.

The warlock turned. "Oh! Zytaveon! I wasn't expecting you here."

"You sound so disappointed. Am I that ugly?!" he swooned dramatically, pretending to be as hurt as possible.

"Why yes," Malcolm said, mimicking Veon's tone. "It's just your face, why it pains me so! Your very presence is making me lightheaded. Watch it, I might throw up!"

"My face is excellent, excuse you."

Veon flipped his shaggy hair. Perhaps he should cut it soon; it was gonna reach his shoulders at this rate.

…

Nah.

"Anyway, in all seriousness, why you at the Shadowhunter Institute?"

"I have a brew to give to the Head," Malcolm said casually. "What about you, crocodile? Southern California is my territory."

Malcolm always called Veon 'crocodile' ever since Veon had shared the story of how he had been the source of that whole rumor about crocodiles in the sewers thanks to his scales and his origin story about being thrown away as a child when his mother found out he was a demon's child - his scaled patches of skin being a dead giveaway. He had become an unexplainable monster to the mundanes, so of course they had turned it into a legend.

Malcolm Fade was the High Warlock of Los Angeles and overall had a great deal of influence over the southern half of California in general. By contrast, as the High Warlock of San Francisco, Veon had influence over the northern half of California. The two were already good friends in general and knew the warlock community well, sharing the burden as some of the older warlocks of the coastal state and therefore in charge of basically everything Shadow World related. Malcolm had only been the High Warlock of Los Angeles for a few years, but it hadn't been hard for him to get the job title with his power and skill.

It had been Malcolm and Veon that had first found out about the capturing of Magnus and the rest of the Downworld Council representatives by Sebastian, going first to Caterina and then to the rest of the Downworld to aid and unite them in the fight.

Veon had to admit that Malcolm was weird, obsessed with romance and happy endings - especially when it came to helping some of his clients in the film industry - but Veon found it amusing. He was a warlock that hadn't given up on the idea of true love, even as an immortal. Long ago, Malcolm had told Veon the story of how he had once fallen in love with a Shadowhunter, but she had left to become an Iron Sister. During a private meeting, Malcolm had admitted that he wasn't okay with her decision, though he had wanted to be fully supportive of her choice. Malcolm had said he wondered if it was really her choice, or if her family had pressured her into the choice. It would be just like the Shadowhunters to do such a thing, choose a life for their people without really asking for their opinion. At the time, Veon had already seen what the Nephilim had done to the Shadowhunter boy that he'd helped, taking away his passion in order to make him a better Shadowhunter - or whatever crap they had spouted to justify their sick ways. It was one of the only times that Malcolm ever showed how the weight of his long life was beginning to get to him, and a time when Veon and Malcolm had really bonded. After that, their partnership over California was set.

Warlocks, being the offspring of human beings and demons, were immortal, and stopped aging at different points in their lives, depending on their demon parents. Magnus, for example, stopped aging at about 19, Veon in his early twenties, and Malcolm looked as if he'd stopped aging at about 27, though he claimed to have been born in 1850. Thinking about how a warlock's parents met was far too complicated, and Malcolm himself didn't seem inclined to share. All Veon knew was that he'd been born in England, and he still retained traces of the accent.

Malcolm came off as serious and scary, though he was really an absent-minded professor type. He had been forgetting important things for almost two hundred years. He was a dork on the inside, goofy around his friends, but he was a powerful warlock nonetheless. He had an…eccentric style, which was expected since Magnus liked him. Veon could rarely tell if Malcolm intended to look the way he did sometimes or if he just made some kind of mistake getting ready in the morning. For example, today Veon couldn't tell if Malcolm was purposefully trying to look cool with his shirt half-buttoned up, or if he had literally just forgotten to do the rest of the buttons before he had left the house. Both were definitely possibilities with Malcolm Fade. If Veon wasn't mistaken, Malcolm's shoelaces were also tied together, but Veon didn't want to be rude and properly check.

"I was supposed to meet a friend at this location, but I hadn't realized it would be an Institute. Not to mention this Institute rather than the one in Frisco. I have something for them."

"Ah, so we're both making house calls." Malcolm shook his head. "What a shame, the High Warlocks of California reduced to delivery boys."

"Warlocks do business to survive. Besides, what else are we gonna do with our immortal existences?"

He shrugged. "Point. Being lazy can only be so amusing."

Malcolm rapped on the door to the Institute, pounding it hard enough to make the building echo with the booming sound.

"Just a minute!" a faint voice called from inside.

Malcolm stopped his assault of the door, satisfied at his work. A moment later, the door swung open to reveal Julian Blackthorn, looking surprised at Malcolm's appearance and processing his presence all at once.

"You look like a strip-o-gram," he declared bluntly.

"You can mail someone a stripper?" Malcolm looked bemused, then glanced down at himself. "Sorry, I forgot to button my shirt before I left the house."

"Well, that answers that question," Veon muttered.

Julian looked to him and Veon could see the gears turning in his head. "Veon, right? High Warlock of San Francisco."

"Glad you remember me, Julian Blackthorn."

Malcolm took a step inside the Institute and instantly fell over, sprawling lengthwise on the tiles. Julian moved aside and Malcolm rolled onto his back, looking disgruntled. He peered down his long body to his feet.

"I seem to have also tied my shoelaces together."

Veon sighed in exasperation, but was laughing on the inside. These were the people he had to deal with, and they made his life so hilarious despite all the doom and gloom.

Julian looked slightly depressed at the fact that all the allies and friends in his life were either people he had to lie to, ridiculous, or both. Emma Carstairs came rushing down the staircase, Cortana in her hand. She was wearing jeans and a tank top, her damp hair pulled back in an elastic band and her tank top sticking to her skin. Julian averted his gaze upon seeing the sight for some reason. Veon would never understand how parabatai worked - especially those two. As Emma took in the situation, she slowed down and relaxed.

"Hey Malcolm. Why are you on the floor?"

"I tied my shoelaces together," he explained.

"Don't ask me how that happened," Veon said. "I don't even know anymore."

Emma had reached his side. She brought Cortana down, neatly severing Malcolm's shoelaces in half and freeing up his feet. "There you go."

Malcolm looked wearily at her. "She may be dangerous," he said to Julian. "Then again, all women are dangerous."

"Got that right," Selina called from the second floor. "Really, all people are dangerous." She jumped down and landed on her feet with a thud echoing across the marble room, right beside the group. "I assume this warlock is one of your friends?" she asked Veon.

"Why? Just because he's a warlock?" he accused.

"Because he walked in here with a shirt half unbuttoned and his shoelaces knotted together - which he didn't realize until he hit the floor."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying I have only idiot friends? I mean, you'd be right, but still."

"Hey! I take offense to that," Malcolm protested from the floor.

"Caterina isn't an idiot," Selina said. "I certainly don't count. We're the most competent people you've ever encountered in this lifetime."

"Aw, you're saying you're my friend?! How nice of you!" Veon crooned dramatically.

She rolled her eyes and shoved him. "Well, at least he's kinda cute. Clumsy, cute, magical, empathetic. You'd make a decent boyfriend if you manage not to tie your shoelaces together."

Veon snorted. "Yeah, if you're into that kind of thing."

"Most girls are. If I've probably studied human social cues correctly, oh mighty teacher."

"I assume he's here for you?" Finn asked, coming down the stairs.

"Well…sorta," Veon rolling his eyes and redirecting his attention. "I guess I could give this to you now, since I'm here. I didn't think this would be the Institute that you're at." He dug around his jacket pocket and pulled out a vial. "Careful. Once it takes effect you'll need my help for a counterspell. Otherwise, you'd need, like, nuclear levels of magic to break it."

"And if it doesn't work?" she asked, staring at the vial carefully.

"I'll be first on the chopping block, my lady. You can come kill me for my insolence, or whatever you'd blame me for."

"What's that for?" Emma asked.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with, Emma," Selina declared, slipping the vial in the small bag at her hip. "You have your illegal activities, I have mine. I say nothing of your affairs, you say nothing of mine."

Julian looked at Veon, but he held his hands up innocently. "I don't kiss and tell, sweetheart. Besides, it's nothing actually illegal. Just something you don't want the Clave knowing about. Let's just say she's got an issue that's more embarrassing than anything else."

"Is it a wart?" Malcolm asked.

"No! It's not a wart!" Selina snapped. "He meant that it's a weakness that shouldn't get out or it'll be used by my enemies. Now it's not a problem, so just shut up and stop talking about it. Ugh, you…people are so annoying."

"I'll try not to take offense from that," Malcolm said. "If she was saying what I think she was saying."

"Trust me, she probably wasn't," Veon commented.

"Oh, look at you with your Shadowhunter girlfriend. Why wasn't I informed of this before?"

"She's not my girlfriend." "I'm not his girlfriend."

Veon and Selina glared at each other.

"Aw, so adorable! You know I'm a sucker for a good love story. Why am I always the one left out on these things?"

"It's not a love story!" the two of them snapped, but Malcolm was undeterred.

"Sure, sure."

"Back to the subject," Julian announced. "Why are you here, Malcolm? Not that I'm not pleased to see you."

Malcolm staggered to his feet, buttoning his shirt. "Well, incidentally Veon and I had similar tasks, though the medicine I brought was for Arthur."

Julian tensed and Emma frowned. "Has Arthur not been feeling well?"

Malcolm, who had been reaching into his pocket, froze. Veon saw the realization dawn on his face that he'd said something he shouldn't and Veon internally sighed at Malcolm and his forgetfulness. He'd suffered from Malcolm's memory lapses in the past before and Malcolm had to have been cursed a thousand times for it. Though Veon didn't know why Arthur needing medicine was a bad thing, he knew that Malcolm had majorly screwed up, that was clear enough.

"Arthur told me last night he's been under the weather," Julian explained. "Just the usual stuff bothering him. It's chronic. Anyway, he was feeling low on energy."

"I would have looked for something at the Shadow Market if I'd known," Emma said, sitting down on the bottom step of the staircase and stretching out her long legs.

"In all honesty, the Shadow Market's probably a more reliable option than Malcolm," Veon sighed.

"Hey!"

The Shadow Market was known for being a sketchy place, especially for Shadowhunters during these times, and going to a High Warlock they trusted was definitely a better option for anything magical, so Finn and Selina were smiling at Veon's accusation.

"Cayenne pepper and dragon's blood," Malcolm declared, retrieving a vial from his pocket and proffering it to Julian. "Should wake him right up."

"That would wake the dead up," Emma said.

"Necromancy is illegal, Emma Carstairs," scolded Malcolm.

"What are you, a faerie?" Finn asked.

"Are all warlocks so literal?" Selina agreed. "By the angel, you can't talk to anyone in the Shadow World with sarcasm."

"Sarcasm is more fun when you can take hyperbole literally," Veon said.

Julian pocketed the vial, keeping his gaze fixed on Malcolm and clearly begging him not to say anything.

"When did you have a chance to tell Malcolm that your uncle wasn't feeling well, Jules?" Emma inquired. "I saw you last night and you didn't say anything."

Julian, facing away from Emma, paled.

"I talked to him last night," Finn volunteered. "Julian was so exhausted after the trip and I asked him if I could help out. Believe it or not, I'm not that useless. So he said to contact the High Warlock and ask him for some medicine for Arthur. I demanded that Julian go and get some rest, practically had to hold him at knifepoint to get him to go to sleep."

Julian started to slowly relax.

Emma nodded. "So that's why you didn't come to my room last night."

"Sorry," Finn said. "But if you had something to say to him, it could wait until the morning."

She shook her head. "It's fine. You were right, he needed the rest. Thanks for looking out for him."

"Parabatai have to look after other parabatai. I mean, being bonded to a pain-in-the-ass best friend gets tiring sometimes."

Selina shoved him. "Love you too, parabro."

Finn rubbed his arm when she'd made contact. "See? I get more bruises from her than I do any demon attack."

"Vampire pizza," Malcolm said randomly, out of the blue.

"What?" Emma asked.

"Nightshade's opened up an Italian place on Cross Creek Road," Malcolm said. "Best pizza for miles, and they deliver."

"Oh, a friend of mine told me about that!" Veon exclaimed. "I hear she's working there. Who would've thought that this is where vampires would end up?"

"Don't you worry about what's in the sauce?" Emma asked. "Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "That reminds me, Malcolm. I was wondering if there was something you'd look at."

"Is it a wart?" Malcolm asked, almost eagerly. "I can cure that, but it'll cost you."

"Why does everyone always think it's a wart? What is it with you and warts?" Emma pulled her phone out and in a few seconds was showing him the photos of the body she'd found at the Sepulchre Bar. "There were these white markings here and there. They look like graffiti, not paint but chalk or something like that…"

"First, gross," Malcolm said. "Please don't show me pictures of dead bodies without a warning." He peered closer. "Second, those look like remnants of a ceremonial circle. Some sort of ritual."

"Told you I knew what I was doing," Selina muttered.

"Someone drew a protective ring on the ground," Veon agreed. "Maybe to protect themselves while they were casting whatever nasty spell killed this guy."

"He was burned," Emma said. "And drowned, I think. At least, his clothes were wet and he smelled like salt water."

She was frowning, her eyes dark. Ever since her parents were found, their corpses left in the ocean, Emma had a fear of the sea. She could force herself into it, sick and shaking, but it was terrifying just to watch the strong Emma torn to shreds by the terror of something so primal and nameless she couldn't explain it even to herself. Julian, ever the loving parabatai, wanted to kill things, destroy things to keep her safe, even though she could keep herself safe, even though she was the bravest person he knew.

"Forward me the photos," Malcolm was saying. "I'll look them over more closely and let you know."

"We'll see if there's anything that matches these marks," Veon agreed.

"I can do this alone," Malcolm protested.

"Too bad. I'm invested now. Don't worry, I won't say anything. Mutual secrets, right?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Fine, but don't expect me to welcome you into my home without a favor, Veon."

"I will watch one movie of your choice."

"Three."

"Two."

"Deal."

"Hey!" Livvy appeared at the top of the stairs, having changed out of her training gear. "Ty found something. About the killings."

Malcolm looked puzzled.

"On the computer," Livvy elaborated. "You know, the one we're not supposed to have. Oh, hi Malcolm, Veon." She waved vigorously. "You guys should come upstairs."

"Would you two stay?" Emma asked, scrambling to her feet. "We could use your help."

"That depends," Malcolm said. "Does the computer play movies?"

"It can play movies," Julian confirmed cautiously.

Malcolm looked pleased. "Can we watch 'Notting Hill?'"

"What's that?" Finn asked.

"Romantic comedy, British," Veon explained. "Very Malcolm."

"We can watch anything, if you're willing to help," Emma said. She glanced at Julian. "And we can find out what Ty discovered. You're coming, right?"

Julian looked like he was silently cursing Malcolm's love of romantic movies. He wished he could head to his studio and paint, but he couldn't exactly avoid Ty or abandon Malcolm.

"I could get snacks from the kitchen," Emma suggested, sounding hopeful.

After all, for years it had been their habit to watch old movies on their witchlight-powered TV, eating popcorn by the flickering illumination.

Julian shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Emma sighed. A moment later she disappeared after Livvy, up the stairs.

"Does this Institute have better tech than us?" Selina wondered. "It took us ages to find a way to connect to the internet and hide the tech from everyone else in the Institute, but after that, Finn got obsessed with YouTube and video games and music videos. It's a miracle he hasn't encountered the dangers of social media yet."

"Only one way to find out," Finn said.

The two of them hurried up the stairs to follow the others. Veon sighed and shook his head but made his way after then, his hands in his pockets as he ascended the stairs. Julian made as if to follow them, but Malcolm stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's gotten worse, hasn't it?" he said.

Veon stopped before he turned a corner to be out of sight. He didn't mean to eavesdrop (okay, so he kinda did) but he found himself listening intently.

"Uncle Arthur?" Julian asked, sounding caught off guard. "I don't think so. I mean, it's not great that I haven't been here, but if we'd kept refusing to go to England, someone would have gotten suspicious."

"Not Arthur. You. Does she know about you?"

"Does who know what?"

"Don't be dense. Emma. Does she know?"

Julian paused for a long time, and when he finally spoke, he sounded like Malcolm had punched him in the gut with betrayal. "Stop."

"I won't. I like happy endings."

Julian spoke through gritted teeth. "Malcolm, this is not a love story."

"Every story is a love story."

Julian made his way to the stairs and Veon nearly left to avoid getting caught, but then Malcolm called his name and Julian turned back.

"Laws are meaningless, child," Malcolm said, his voice low. "There is nothing more important than love. And no law higher."

---

Technically, no Institute was supposed to have a computer in it. The Clave resisted the advent of modernity, but even more so any engagement with mundane culture.

But that had never stopped Tiberius.

He started asking for a computer at the age of ten so that he could keep up to date on violent mundane crimes, and when they'd come back from Idris, after the Dark War, Julian had given him one. Ty had lost his mother and father, his brother and sister, Julian had said at the time, sitting on the floor amid a tangle of wires, trying to figure out how to plug the computer into one of the few electrical outlets they had (almost everything in the Institute ran on witchlight). Ty deserved this, Julian had said. It had been Finnegan and Selina that had hooked him up with a computer and taught him how to use it. They had long since gone against their parents' orders before, managing to raise money to buy Finn a guitar, and when Finn wanted to learn new songs made by the mundanes, Selina had decided it was time for an upgrade.

"You plug it in right here," Selina showed Julian all those years ago. "The three prongs go into the three holes right there."

"Thanks for doing this."

"You deserve it," Selina said, using a witchlight-infused tablet of her own making to divert the witchlight into the electrical outlet. "Ty deserves it. Your whole family does, Julian Blackthorn."

It was a miracle that they'd even been able to find the outlet, but Selina knew how to activate it thanks to experience from her own Institute. As far as anyone else was concerned, the computer was running on witchlight just like the rest of the Institute.

Now, Ty was indeed in love with the computer. He'd named it Watson and had spent hours teaching himself how to use it (Selina offered to come over every day to help him learn, but Ty was impatient). Julian told him not to do anything illegal and Arthur, locked away in his study, didn't notice anything. Livvy, ever dedicated to her sibling, had also learned how to use it. Together they were a formidable team.

Dru had spread maps all over the floor; Tavvy was standing by a whiteboard with a blue dry-erase marker, making possibly helpful notations, if they could ever be translated out of seven-year-old; Ty was seated at the swivel chair in front of the computer, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard; Livvy was perched on the desk, as she often was, while Ty worked around her, completely aware of where she was while at the same time focusing on the task at hand. In essence, they looked to have been busy.

"So, you found something?" Julian asked as they came in.

"Yes, just a second." Ty held up his hand imperiously. "You can talk to each other if you like."

Julian grinned. "That's very kind."

Cristina came hurrying in, braiding her damp, dark hair. She'd clearly showered and re-dressed, in jeans and a flowered blouse.

"Livvy told me-"

"Shh," Emma interrupted.

She put a finger to her lips and indicated Ty, staring intently at the computer's blue screen, lighting up his delicate features. She loved the moments when Ty was playing detective; he so clearly fell into the part, into the dream of being Sherlock Holmes, who always had the answers. Cristina nodded and sat down on the overstuffed loveseat beside Drusilla. Dru was nearly as tall as she was, despite being only thirteen, She was one of those girls whose body had grown up quickly: she had breasts and hips, was soft and curvy. It had led to some awkward moments with boys who thought she was seventeen or eighteen years old, and a few incidents were Emma had barely stopped Julian from murdering a mundane teenager.

"And who might you be?" Veon asked.

"I should ask you the same thing," Cristina said.

"Clearly not from California, then. Zytaveon, High Warlock of San Francisco - and Northern California in general - a personal friend of many things and people that the Clave does not approve of - including the Blackthorn family and their affairs - as well as the Malcolm of the San Francisco Institute, with Scion and Dalmasca over there."

"This is Cristina Rosales," Selina introduced. "Nice girl, wise."

"Cristina's from the Mexico City Institute," Emma explained. "She's come on her travel year and will be staying with us."

"Interested in ending the Cold Peace," Finn added.

"Ah, so a fellow person with sense!" Veon exclaimed. "Good to know you, my lady."

Veon bowed dramatically and Cristina smiled. "Nice to meet you, good sir."

She took his hand and shook it, but Veon brought it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Selina looked between them, a slightly nervous look in her eyes.

"Wow, never seen him so chivalrous," Finn muttered.

"He's chivalrous when he wants to be," Malcolm commented. "When he doesn't want to be? He's an asshole."

"Only to my dearest friends am I ever an asshole," Veon corrected.

"I can't tell if I should be honored or take offense," Finn muttered.

"So, why'd you come to Los Angeles of all places?" Veon asked.

"Well, like Finnegan said, I'm not a supporter of the Cold Peace," Cristina explained. "In all honesty, I wanted to come here because of Mark and Helen Blackthorn."

"A true lady, caring about people no matter their blood. There need to be more good apples like you in the world."

"Okay, enough with the flirting," Selina complained.

"Jealous?" Finn asked.

"No," she said calmly. "Are you?"

"Why would I be jealous?"

"I'm proving a point. I have about as much reason as you to be jealous right now as you do."

"Nice argument. For now."

Malcolm settled himself in a patched armchair. "Well, if we're waiting…" He began typing on his phone.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked.

"Ordering pizza from Nightshade's," said Malcolm. "There's an app."

"A what?" Dru asked.

"There is?" Veon exclaimed. "I gotta get that. But wait, Mal! Hold on, let me make a phone call." The scaled warlock pulled out his phone and hit a few buttons. "Hey…yeah, I know, but I have some friends who wanna make an order…if you come, I'll tip nicely. I'm 300 years old, honey. I tip well…yeah. Hold on." He moved his phone away from his mouth. "I've got a friend who'll give a discount. What'd you want?"

"Hold on, go back a few steps," Livvy interrupted. "Nightshade? The vampire?"

"He owns a pizza place," Malcolm explained. "The sauce is divine," he said, kissing his fingers.

"Aren't you worried what's in it?" Livvy asked.

"You Nephilim are so paranoid."

"You're just realizing this now?" Selina asked. "That's literally the definition of a Shadowhunter: paranoid, prejudice, and probably doing other useful too."

Ty cleared his throat, spinning his chair back around to face the room. Everyone had settled themselves on couches or chairs except Tavvy, who was sitting on the floor under the whiteboard.

"I've found some stuff," Ty announced. "There definitely have been bodies that fit Emma's description. Fingerprints sanded off, soaked in seawater, skin burned." He pulled up the front page of a newspaper on-screen. "Mundanes think it's satanic cult activity, because of the chalk markings found around the bodies."

"Mundanes think everything is satanic cult activity," Malcolm said. "Must cults are actually in service of completely different demons than Lucifer."

"He's quite famous and very hard to reach," Veon said. "It's like trying to get help for your wifi or something - put on hold for days! Rarely does favors for anyone. Really an unrewarding demon to worship. I once found these cultists that were worshiping my father. Ugh, ever had a cult worshiping your dad who get, like 90% of it wrong?"

"Sounds rough," Finn muttered. "My father's a demon too, but he's not in any cult. At least, I think so."

"Careful," Veon smirked. "I mean, it's not out of the realm of possibility…"

Selina knocked him on the back of the head. "Ignore him."

Emma and Julian exchanged looks of amusement. Ty clicked the computer mouse, and pictures flashed up on the screen. Faces - different ages, races, genders. All of them slack in death.

"There are only a few murders that match the profile." Ty seemed pleased to be using the word 'profile.' "There's been one every month for the past year. Twelve counting the one Emma found, like she said."

"But nothing before a year ago?" Emma clarified.

Ty shook his head.

"So, there was a gap of four years since my parents were killed. Whoever it was - if it was the same person - stopped and started up again."

"Something happening once per month might be related to the moon and/or the tides," Selina pointed out. "Trust me, I know them well."

"Is there anything that links all these people?" Julian asked. "Diana said some of the bodies were fey."

"Well, this is all mundane news," Livvy pointed out. "They wouldn't know, would they? They'd think the bodies were human, if they were gentry fey. As for anything linking them, none of them have been identified."

"That's where we can help," Finn announced. "My informant has given me a list of potential fey that have gone missing. There are no confirmations and the list of potentials were mostly made from rumors. They were faeries that no one but people close to them could ever miss, but there were a couple instances of a few gentry going missing, though it's been kept under wraps."

"So no connection between the rank of the faerie victimized?" Emma concluded.

"More like they began trying this thing on nobodies who wouldn't be missed, but they found that the gentry had something special about them," Selina corrected. "These victims are experiments, the caster doesn't know which person will beget a successful result and they're beginning to narrow their search. But why the four year gap?"

"Emma, your parents were the first victims, right?" Finn asked. She nodded. "That means something happened in the war that revealed the making of this ritual, your parents were probably the first experiments before the caster realized that they couldn't just sacrifice any old person. Imagine it: someone looking to do the impossible with magic suddenly finds an opportunity thanks to the chaos that the Dark War provided - maybe someone gave them a spell, maybe they found it by accident, or maybe they had been searching specifically for what they needed for a while and finally found it. They get excited, use the first people they see as the sacrifices, and then find out the hard way that it isn't so simple."

Emma's scowl deepened. "So my parents were just thrown away for nothing? Killed for no reason at all because this idiot got trigger happy?"

"I'm sorry, Emma. I can't put myself in your shoes, but I can say that it's hard not knowing what happened to someone you love who…left you."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. But now we need to avenge them more than ever."

"This stuff is dark magic, but the only things that would require sacrifices are necromancy - basically a life for a life - the summoning of demons, the gaining of power from the culmination of multiple people's energy, etc.," Selina explained. "There are limited possibilities, but plenty nonetheless. From these pictures alone, it could be anything, but it's bad, that's for sure. If I could just get my hands on one of them…"

"The Clave will get suspicious if we reveal that we're interested in this," Finn said. "Directly asking to see the body won't work."

"Ugh, if only I had been the one to find it. Just one moment and I would've gotten so much info…"

"What about blood?" Dru suggested. "In movies they can identify people using blood and DTR."

"DNA," Ty corrected. "Well, according to the newspapers none of the bodies were identified. It could have been that whatever spells were done on them altered their blood. Or they could have decayed fast, like Emma's parents did. That would have limited what the coroners could have found out."

"There is something else, though," Livvy said. "The stories all reported where the bodies were found, and we mapped them. They have one thing in common."

Ty had taken one of his hand toys out of his pocket, a mass of intermingled pipe cleaners, and was untangling it. Ty had one of the fastest-working minds of anyone else Finn had ever seen, and it calmed him to have a way to use his hands to diffuse some of that quickness and intensity. There was probably some fancy name made of a few letters that described it - ADD, ADHD, OCD, or something like that. The Blackthorns seemed to have whatever it was under control, so Finn didn't prod.

"The bodies have all been dumped at ley lines. All of them," Ty explained, and they could hear the excitement in his voice.

"Ley lines?" Dru furrowed her brow.

"There's a network, circling the world, of ancient magical pathways," Malcolm explained. "They amplify magic, so for centuries, Downworlders have used them to create entrances into Faerie, that sort of thing."

"Alicante is built on a convergence of ley lines," Veon continued. "They're invisible, but some can train themselves to sense them."

Malcolm frowned, staring at the computer screen, where one of the images Cristina had taken of the dead body at the Sepulchre was displayed. "Can you do that thing? You know, where you make the picture bigger?"

"Zoom in," Finn translated.

Before Malcolm could answer, the doorbell of the Institute rang. It was no ordinary, shrilling doorbell. It sounded like a gong being struck through the building, shivering the glass and stone and plaster.

"Yay! It's here!" Veon announced. "One of you Nephilim come with me! I need one of you idiots to open the door!"

He rushed out of the room.

"I'll go," Emma volunteered quickly.

She sprinted after Veon and hurried downstairs, even as Julian half-rose from his seat to follow her.

"Don't," Finn quickly said, grabbing Julian's arm. "She needs a moment alone to process all this. She's been pursuing this case for many years, but she's finally getting answers. Someone did these things, someone tortured and killed her parents, carved evil markings on their skin and dumped them in the ocean to rot. Someone took Emma's childhood, tore away the roof and walls of the house of her life, leaving her cold and exposed. You don't just brush that off. Emma's filled with revenge right now, it's surging through her veins, overtaking her. But it's not just the revenge. She needs to…she needs to learn how to breathe again, she feels revenge will give her the air back in her lungs. Revenge will help her think about her parents without a cold knot in her stomach, dream without seeing their drowned faces and hearing their voices cry out for her help. I know because I've been there. But I never learned the truth."

Julian stared at him, long and hard.

"Forget it," Finn said. "Look, Julian - no, all of you. You need to keep Emma from destroying herself with revenge. You think things'll get better once your vengeance has gone through, once you finally know the truth, you think this weight will be lifted off your shoulders. But nothing changes. The empty hole in your heart isn't just suddenly filled. Vengeance isn't the key to recovering; it's the vengeance itself that prevents you from recovering. But recovering is painful; it's a long, slow, insidious burn. We like to believe that revenge is a faster route to being okay again, but it's just a more flashy way of delaying the inevitable road of pain. Don't let her be lost. Having the hot head that she does will result in a lot of mistakes. No offense to Emma, but revenge makes you blind and stupid."

"Well, Jace Herondale is known for his stupid decisions," Selina muttered. "She really is destined to be the next Jace. But Finn? Now Finn's just himself. His crazy, weird, introverted, weird, bold, weird, dangerous, weird self."

"Don't forget weird, Selina," Finn deadpanned. "I thought you were supposed to be my parabatai. How dare you forget the weird part?"

There was a round of laughter among the others.

"I think you're fine as you are, Finnegan," Julian assured him. "I hope I can count on you to help out with Emma too. We've all got our scars, but Emma's got a lot of weight on her shoulders."

"No one ever listens to warnings about vengeance, so I guess she'll just have to find out herself."

"You know what I wanna find out?" Malcolm asked. "Why it's taking them so long to get us that pizza."

"Nevermind," Selina said. "Let's just compare notes about this case, Malcolm."

-TTOT-

The sun had just set, and so vampires were allowed to be out now. When Emma threw open the front door of the Institute, a glum vampire stood in the doorway, carrying several stacked boxes. He looked like a teenager with short brown hair and freckled skin, but that didn't mean much.

"Pizza delivery," he said in a tone that suggested that most of his closest relatives had just died.

"Seriously?" Emma said. "Malcolm wasn't making that up? You really deliver pizza?"

He looked at her blankly. "Why wouldn't I deliver pizza?"

Emma fumbled at the small table near the door for the cash they usually kept there. "I don't know. You're a vampire. I figured you'd have something better to do with your life. Your unlife. Whatever."

The vampire looked aggrieved. "You know how hard it is to get a job when your ID says you're a hundred and fifty years old and you can only go out at night?"

"No," Emma admitted, taking the boxes. "I hadn't considered that."

"Nephilim never do."

He tucked a fifty into his jeans.

"Believe it or not, hon, even vampires need money," Veon said. "Not sure why pizza was the go-to option for Nightshade, but hey, whatever works."

"Hey! Got the rest!" a voice piped up. Veon looked out the door to see Pyre holding another myriad of boxes of pizza. "Hey Ve. You promised a big tip. Pay up. Can I come in, Shadowhunter lady?"

"She's a friend of mine, it's okay," Veon said.

Pyre hopped through into the Institute with the boxes of pizza. "You can head back, Charlie. I got this."

"If you get in trouble, I better not be blamed," Charlie warned.

"As if. Lily put in a good word to Nightshade and all of the others can vouch for me. Also, pay up, Ve."

He dug around his pocket and passed over ten fifties that he just…had in his pocket. For some reason! Warlocks, man.

"Why did we have to pay for this again?" Emma demanded.

"Because you Nephilim have nothing better to do with your money, meanwhile I work hard for my fortune."

Pyre balanced her stack of pizzas in one hand while separating the bills in her hand. She stuck the bills in her pocket and then her hand came out with two fifties still in her grip.

She passed the money to Charlie. "If someone gives you shit, bribe 'em. If no one gives you shit, the money's yours. Deal?"

Charlie accepted the money and stuffed it in his pocket. Meanwhile, Emma noticed that he was wearing a gray T-shirt that said TMI across the front.

"Too much information?" she asked.

He brightened. "The Mortal Instruments. They're a band. From Brooklyn. You heard of them?"

"Yeah, I have a friend in New York that I visit and learned about them from," Veon answered.

Well, it was sorta true. Veon had many friends in New York, and Simon Lewis (now Lovelace) had been a part of The Mortal Instruments - he had named it in the first place during his memory loss and mundane-ness. Clary's best friend and parabatai had named the band after the three most holy objects in the Shadowhunter world. Fun. Veon had wondered how Simon felt about the band going on without him, about everything going on without him, now that he was a Shadowhunter.

As Veon and Pyre talked on their way back to the others, Emma's mind was lost with thoughts of Clary and the others in the New York Institute. Simon had been Clary's best friend for her whole life, like Jules had been Emma's. Then they had been parabatai, once Simon was a Shadowhunter. What had changed? Emma wondered. What did it feel like to go from best friend to parabatai without having always known you were going to do it, how was it different? And why didn't she know the answer to that herself?

When they arrived back in the room, Malcolm was standing near the desk, violet eyes snapping. "You see, it's not a protection circle at all."

"There are many options about what it could be," Selina said. "A summoning circle, a magical transfer rune - not a Shadowhunter rune, but a magical rune in general - or maybe an energy gathering symbol, or some secret code, or-"

"It's pizza!" Malcolm announced, having been distracted by Emma and Veon's return.

"It can't be pizza," Ty said, staring perplexedly at the screen.

His long fingers had nearly untangled all the pipe cleaners - when he was done, he'd tangle them back up and start again.

"All right, enough," Julian announced. "We're taking a break from killings and profiles for dinner." He took Emma's pizza boxes, shooting her a grateful look, and set them down on the coffee table. "I don't care what you all want to talk about, it just can't involve murder or blood. Any blood."

"But it's vampire pizza," Livvy pointed out.

"Immaterial," Julian declared. "Couch. Now."

"Can we watch a movie?" Malcolm piped up, sounding remarkably like Tavvy.

"We can watch a movie. Now, Malcolm, I don't care if you are the High Warlock of Los Angeles, sit your butt down."

"Finally, someone says it," Veon muttered. "Oh, by the way, this is Pyre, she's a vampire, deal with it."

"Hey all," Pyre greeted. "While we're having a slumber party, can I invite my friend Wolf?"

-TTOT-

"This is amazing," Selina exclaimed. "You sure there isn't anything sketchy in the sauce?"

"Who cares?" Finn said. "Mouse heads, stewed people parts, whatever. It's delicious."

It had crispy crust and just the right amount of fresh mozzarella. Emma sucked the cheese off her fingers and made faces at Julian, who had excellent table manners. Finn ate his pizza delicately, balancing the slices on his fingertips and trying to avoid getting anything on his fingers, while Selina was digging in without much care about what she got on herself. Hey, no one ever said that parabatai had to eat pizza the same way (oddly enough the boys were cautious while the girls were careless).

The film was much more puzzling. It appeared to be about a man who owned a bookstore and was in love with a famous woman, except they recognized none of them and weren't sure if they were supposed to. Only Veon had seen the movie before, and only because Malcolm had made him as well as their other warlock friends watch it - Cat had been supportive, Ragnor had read a book through the whole thing, Magnus had been distracted but had at least tried to focus on the movie, and Veon had sat on the couch upside down feeling bad for them when bad things happened and only ever flipping over rightside up when the two finally got together.

Pyre was sitting on Wolf's lap while the Wolf ate pizza and talked to Pyre, Cristina watched in large-eyed bafflement, Ty put his headphones on and closed his eyes, Veon was upside down on the couch again, Finn and Selina were sprawled on the floor, and Dru and Livvy sat on either side of Malcolm, patting him gently while he wept.

"Love is beautiful," he said while the man on screen ran through traffic.

"That's not love," Julian said, leaning back against the couch. The flickering light from the screen played over his skin, making it seem unfamiliar, adding frecklings of darkness to the smooth, pale places and lighting the shadows under his cheekbones, at the hollow of his throat. "That's movies."

"I came to Los Angeles to bring back love," Malcolm said, his dark violet eyes mournful. "All great movies are about love. Love lost, found, destroyed, regained, brought, sold, dying, and being born."

"You have a point," Finn admitted. "Hey, I'm a sucker for a good love story too. Everything is about love, and who doesn't wanna believe their love lives will work out?"

"I love movies, but they've forgotten what they're about. Explosions, effects, that wasn't what it meant when I first got here. It was about lighting cigarette smoke so it looked like heavenly fire and lighting women so they looked like angels." Malcolm sighed. "I came here to bring true love back from the dead."

"Oh, Malcolm," Drusilla said, bursting into tears. Livvy handed her a napkin from the pizza place. "Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"I'm straight," Malcolm said, looking surprised.

"It's amazing!" Veon exclaimed, throwing his hands up (which was actually down since he was lying upside down on the couch) in exasperation. "200 plus years and he's still straight! There'll be one day that you'll get bored with women and become bisexual like the rest of us, Malcolm. One day."

"Besides, teenage girls always love a homosexual love story between guys," Selina pointed out. "Mostly because guys rarely ever let their pride go with stuff like that. If they do, suddenly they're wimpy or less respectable. Girls? Well girls can be anything they want to, but a guy loving another guy? Unheard of! See this is why I like faeries. They don't give a damn about genders. Heterosexuals only exist to procreate. There's enough procreating in this world, and even with low Nephilim numbers, there's always that Ascension thing, right?"

"Girls are just as manly as guys," Finn said. "Especially in the Shadow World. In any case, people don't choose their sexuality, Ve."

"No, we don't," he admitted. "But with an immortal lifespan, sometimes opinions evolve. You live a couple hundred years and then you can lecture me on how sexuality isn't something we choose. Oh wait! You're already bi so that wouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks for announcing it to the entire Blackthorn family, Cristina, Pyre and Wolf, Malcolm, and probably a bunch of eavesdropping bugs. Hell, with our luck there's a hidden microphone in here and someone's posting this on YouTube right now."

"YouTube?" Emma asked.

"Finn is more cultured than someone," Selina crooned. "I'm so proud. Little boy's all grown up!"

He shoved her away.

"Well, all right, then a girlfriend," Dru continued. "Malcolm should find a nice Downworlder girl, maybe a vampire, so she'll live forever."

"Immortal-mortal relationships are hard," Wolf called.

"Hey, what about a Nephilim?" Finn protested.

"I find Magnus and Alec a cute pair," Veon agreed.

"Leave Malcolm's love life alone, Dru," Livvy said.

"True love is hard to find," Malcolm said, gesturing at the people kissing on screen.

"Movie love is hard to find," Julian corrected. "Because it's not real."

"What do you mean?" Cristina asked. "Are you saying there is no true love? I don't believe that."

"Love isn't chasing someone to the airport." He leaned forward, the edge of his parabatai Mark on his collarbone, escaping above the neck of his T-shirt. "Love means you see someone, that's all."

"You see them?" Ty echoed, sounding dubious.

He'd turned the music down on his player, but his headphones were still on, his black hair scrunched up around them.

"I get it," Finn said. "Love means you see someone for who they truly are, there's no lying or faking it. It means that you see the darkest sides of someone and still love them anyway. It means you would walk to the edge of the world for them, make compromises, be willing to do things for their sake. But it also means being brutally honest and admitting when you don't like something, it means disagreements and hardships. What matters is that you get past all that stuff, you love each other enough to be unafraid of hurting each other's feelings. It means that you fight for each other each and every day, you're with them even when you're not with them, and you apologize a million times for every little mistake but you're forgiven before you've even opened your mouth. You'll make mistakes, you'll totally screw up sometimes, and the world will try to tear you apart by any means necessary - bad luck, tough choices, peer pressure, time, danger, laws, and more. Sometimes it'll get hard, but true love means that none of it matters so long as you go forward together."

Julian took hold of the remote. The movie had ended; white credits scrolled across the screen. "When you love someone, they become a part of who you are. They're in everything you do. They're in the air you breathe and the water you drink and the blood in your veins. Their touch stays on your skin and their voice stays in your ears and their thoughts stay in your mind. You know their dreams because their nightmares pierce your heart and their good dreams are your dreams too. And you don't think they're perfect, but you know their flaws, the deep-down truth of them, and the shadows all their secrets, and they don't frighten you away; in fact you love them more for it, because you don't want perfect, you want them. You want-"

He broke off then, as if he realized everyone was looking at him

"You want what?" Dru asked with enormous eyes.

"Nothing," Julian dismissed. "I'm just talking." He shut off the TV and picked up the pizza boxes - which they had all miraculously finished. "I'm going to throw these away."

He left.

Dru watched him go. "When he falls in love, it's going to be like…wow."

"Of course then we'll probably never see him again," Livvy said. "Lucky girl, whoever she'll be."

Ty's brow drew together. "You're joking, right? You don't mean we'll actually never see him again?"

"Absolutely not," Selina declared. "No one, no matter how much Julian loved them, would ever tear him away from you guys."

When Ty was much younger, he'd been puzzled by the way people talked and the way they exaggerated to make a point. Phrases like 'raining cats and dogs' had caused him annoyance - and sometimes a small amount of betrayal, since he liked cats and dogs a great deal more than he liked rain. At one point, Julian had begun a series of silly drawings for him, showing the literal meaning of phrases and then the figurative ones. Ty had giggled at the illustrations of cats and dogs falling out of the sky and people having their socks knocked off, as well as the bubble pictures of animals and people explaining what the idioms really meant. After that, he was often to be found in the library, looking up expressions and their meanings, committing them to memory. Ty didn't mind having things explained to him, and he never forgot what he'd been taught, but he preferred teaching himself.

It reminded Finn of Fae, actually. The faerie, especially back when they'd first met, took everything literally and got genuinely confused when it came to hyperbolic statements. His confusion had made Finn laugh on more than one occasion, especially with Lock and his more…flippant mouth to contrast Fae. Even with all the progress he'd made, there were still times that he liked to be reassured that an exaggeration was an exaggeration, even if he was 90% sure of it.

Livvy, who knew better than anyone the anxiety that imprecise language could cause her brother, scrambled to her feet and went over to him. She put her arms around him, her chin against his shoulder. Ty leaned against her, his eyes half-lidded. Ty liked physical affection when he was in the mood for it, as long as it wasn't too intense - he liked having his hair ruffled and his back patted or scratched.

Sometimes, he reminded them of Church, Jem's cat who he'd left with Emma - and the Blackthorns by association - since she was a Carstairs like him. Jem had signed his note as Brother Zachariah, and they hadn't understood why a Silent Brother would have a cat, but Clary had confirmed it. Not to mention the cat was immortal thanks to some shenanigans, so yeah. He always seemed to know where everyone was at any time, once serving as a guide at the New York Institute. The cat was far more intelligent than he seemed, but since he still lacked the ability to talk in English, most were pretty confused by him. Church didn't stay where he was put, being immortal had to do that to you, and so he escaped the Institute for days and even weeks at a time, but he always came back, looking sleeker and more self-satisfied than ever. When Emma had turned fourteen, the cat had started to return with presents for her tied to his collar: shells and pieces of sea glass. Emma put the shells on her windowsill, while the sea glass had become Julian's good-luck bracelet. By then, Emma knew the presents were from Jem, but she had no way of reaching him to thank him. Instead, she did her best to take care of Church. There was always dry cat food left out for Church in the entryway, and clean drinking water. They were happy to see him when he showed up, and not worried when he didn't.

Light flared. Cristina had gotten up and flicked the witchlight back on. Brightness expanded to fill the room as Julian came back in and looked around. Whatever composure he'd lost was back.

"It's late. Bedtime. Especially for you, Tavvy."

"Hate bedtime," Tavvy declared, who was sitting in Malcolm's lap, playing with a toy the warlock had given him. It was square and purple and sent off bright sparks.

"That's the spirit of the revolution," Julian responded. "Malcolm, Veon, thanks. I'm sure we'll be needing your help again."

"I guess it's time to take our leave," Wolf said. "Nice seeing you, Shadowhunters."

Pyre grabbed Lock and whispered something into his ear that the others couldn't hear and probably didn't even notice. "Believe it or not, we came here for a reason…"

She whispered a message into Veon's ear quick as she could. After a few moments, Pyre pulled back and acted as though nothing had happened.

"Well, time to go!"

She pulled Wolf with her out the door, the two of them heading out.

Malcolm set Tavvy gently aside and stood up, brushing pizza dust from his rumpled clothes and picking up his discarded jacket before heading out into the hallway with Veon, Emma and Jules following him. "Well, you know where to find me," he said, zipping the jacket up. "I was going to talk to Diana tomorrow about-"

"Diana can't know," Emma interjected.

Malcolm looked puzzled. "Can't know about what?"

"That we're looking into this," Julian said, cutting Emma off. "She doesn't want us involved. Says it's dangerous."

Malcolm looked disgruntled. "You could have mentioned that before. I don't like keeping things from her."

"Sorry," he said, his expression smooth, fairly apologetic. Once again, Julian was both impressive and frightening with how well he could lie. He was an expert liar when he wanted to be, no shadow of what he really felt would touch his face. "We can't go much further with this without help from the Clave and the Silent Brothers anyway."

"All right." Malcolm looked at them both closely, Emma clearly trying to match Julian's poker face to the best of her ability. "As long as you talk to Diana about this tomorrow." He shoved his hands into his pockets, the light gleaming off his colorless hair. "There is one thing that I didn't get a chance to tell you. Those markings around the body that Emma found, they weren't for a protective spell."

Emma's brow furrowed. "But you said-"

"I changed my mind when Selina and I got a closer look. They're not protective runes, they're summoning runes. She was dead on the money with that hunch of hers. Someone's using the energy of the dead bodies to summon. These aren't failed experiments for the sacrifices though, each and every one of them is being put together for a single purpose, gathering the energy all together to summon something equal to the loss of life."

"To summon what?" Julian dared to ask.

Veon shook his head. "Something to this world. A demon, an angel, we're still unsure. We'll look at the photos more, ask around the Spiral Labyrinth discreetly."

"So if it was a summoning spell, was it successful or unsuccessful?" Emma asked.

"Well, Selina was right about that part. A spell like that? If it was successful, believe me, you'd know."

---

Chapter title: "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat