Hello! Sorry about the wait for this chapter. I've got something else I'm working on, and it's doing quite a bit better than this story so far. I'll try to update this one as much as I can. Anyway, this chapter is a bit short. Expect the beginning chapters to have a slow pace, but I promise that there is some action approaching. Thank you for reading, following, favorite-ing, and reviewing! More reviews would be splendid! :)

Someone knocked on the door but I didn't bother to mute the TV. I glanced over and saw Jem poke his head into my room. He crept inside without an invitation. I raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the TV. He strode up to the side of the bed, hands shoved casually in his pockets. I stayed where I was, reclined against a mountain of pillows with my arm tucked behind my head.

"What are you watching?" he asked, peering at the TV.

I lifted the remote and turned up the volume pointedly. Jem, however, didn't take the hint.

"Can I speak with you?" he asked, voice raised to keep it afloat over the television.

"I'm busy," I said shortly.

Jem sauntered over to the TV and pressed the power button. The screen flashed to darkness. I immediately pushed the power button on the remote, flaring the screen back to life. Much to my agitation, Jem manually turned the TV off again and stood in front of the screen, arms folded across his chest.

"Isn't there someone else you can bother?" I asked dryly.

"I'm not here to bother you." Jem moved his arms to clasp his hands behind his back. His posture was tall and straight, uncommon for people our age. "I feel as though there is an unwarranted tension between us, Will. I was not sent here to tell you what you can and can't do; I'm here to protect you. This situation doesn't have to be all bad."

"You want to be my friend, James?"

"I'd like that, yes."

"I don't need any friends," I hissed, sitting up. "Nor do I want any."

Jem's silver eyes narrowed. "I know what you're doing."

"Do enlighten me," I said, my voice dripping with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"You're afraid, Will."

I slid from the bed and stalked toward the other Shadowhunter, my movements measured and smooth, predatory. Jem held his ground, unflinching.

"You loved Gideon and Gabriel," he continued. "You saw them murdered, just like your family before them. You're afraid to feel grief's pain again, so you're deliberately trying to push me away. Isolating yourself from everyone around you will not make death any easier to bear; it'll only make you feel more alone."

"I am not afraid," I countered with a threatening calmness. "I'm being smart. Marbas will always find a way to use the people I care about against me. Devastation makes me weak, it makes us all weak. By isolating myself, the chances of me or anyone around me getting hurt are minimal. I'm barricading myself so you can do your damn job and kill that bloody demon without wearing yourself thin trying to protect me and my friends. No friends equals less work, so you're welcome."

"Friends make loyal allies."

"Friends also make great bait or spies of the enemy. It takes just one to give Marbas the foothold he needs to lure me out into the open so he can finish me off."

Despite the dark mood of our conversation, Jem grinned. "You're paranoid."

Insulted and rapidly losing control of my temper, I snarled, "Get out of my room."

"I want to help you, Will."

Spinning on my heel, I hurried over to the side of my bed and ripped a dagger out from under the pillows. The deadly weight was a comfort, perfectly fitted to the curve of my palm. Jem drew himself up taller and shifted from foot to foot but his face remained composed.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I spat. "Now get out."

"Anger stems from the roots of pain. I understand the hurt that makes holding that dagger feel so good."

I launched myself across the room. Jem raised his hands at the last moment to fend me off. He grappled me, pushing me backward with the force of his body. I let the dagger fall from my right hand and, wrenching my left wrist free, caught it in the air and made a slash for Jem's belly. He instantly released my right hand and jumped back out of the dagger's path. His hand slipped behind him briefly and reappeared, his own dagger nestled in his clenched fingers.

Low to the ground, I rushed forward and caught Jem around the waist. He let out a grunt as I slammed him to the floor but wasted no time in rolling free and lurching to his feet. My arm curled back and unfurled like the crack of a whip. The dagger flew out of my hand and sailed, end over end, toward Jem. He dropped to the floor out of its trajectory. Like a feral, wild cat I pounced. My fist caught the Shadowhunter's jaw. His hips bucked off the floor but I pressed all my weight onto him, pinning him down. His hand pushed at my chest as I grabbed a fistful of his hair and poised my other fist to strike his face.

For a split second I thought I saw something flicker in Jem's eyes. The rings of silver surrounding his irises flashed to a pale green, though it could have been a trick of the light. There was movement in the corner of my eye and I sucked in a breath through my teeth as pain ignited in my bicep. I released Jem's hair and looked down to see a slash in arm. Trails of dark blood snaked down to my wrist.

Jem thrashed and knocked me off balance. Wriggling out from under me, he pushed me to the floor and pinned me on my back. I flinched as his dagger slammed down into the floorboard beside my head. Jem stared down at me, panting hard, his fingers still gripping the weapon.

There it was again: the miniscule change in Jem's features. I saw a quick moment of confusion before the burst of clarity. Jem released the dagger and rolled off me.

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "Are you all right? Let me see—"

I sat up and twisted so my back was to him. Warmth spread through my fingers as I placed my hand over the wound in my arm. The cut was relatively deep but the pain had not yet become unbearable.

"Get out," I murmured.

Jem was momentarily silent before I heard him get to his feet and shuffle over to the door. I felt his gaze on me but I did not turn until the door closed. My breathing was ragged and shaky as I pulled my hand away to inspect the damage to my arm. Gushes of blood spilled too quickly for me to get a clear view, though I thought I saw hints of tissue and muscle. Reaching into my back pocket, I withdrew my stele and placed it against my skin. I welcomed the familiar burn as I drew an iratze, letting out a sigh as the area numbed and began to stitch itself back together.

As my wound healed, I looked over to find Jem's dagger still sticking up out of the floor. Slowly, almost cautiously, I reached over and yanked it out. Holding it between my fingers, I studied the intricate markings on the blade and handle. My blood coated part of the gleaming blade. What looked like vines had been engraved into the blade, and the handle appeared as though it had been made out of scales. I thought of Marbas's skin and cringed.

Never before had I felt so inclined to attack one of my protectors, and never had any of them dared to lay a finger on me. I'd had my rough patches with Gabriel and Gideon, times where we'd annoyed each other and pushed each other to our limits. And of course they'd trained me to the best of their abilities, which meant there had been no shortage of sparring, wrestling, defensive and offensive maneuvers. But neither Gabriel nor Gideon had ever cut open my skin on purpose. Not even when I'd lashed out at them, overcome with emotion. Not even when I'd begged them to hit me back.

I'd had a couple protectors in the month between the Lightwood brothers and Jem. All of them were just temps, barely sticking around long enough for me to memorize their names. The Clave, it seemed, was running low on Shadowhunters to spare. They'd always assured me that I was their top priority, but I was lucky if the Clave managed to send two protectors to guard me at once. I'd wondered if the number of Shadowhunters had really diminished or if the Clave had just run out of volunteers who were willing to deal with a surly, damaged, teenager. Those that had stepped forward had barely spoken to me, let alone raised a dagger to me.

I flipped the dagger and watched as my blood inched from one edge to the other. It was clear that James Carstairs was not like my other guardians. There was something different about him, and I'd caught a glimpse of it in the flicker of his eyes, in the change of his expression. I wanted— needed —to know more about him. James Carstairs was obviously more dangerous than he led on, which should have been alarming, but I was only intrigued.

My back was propped up against my door as I listened for any sounds in the hallway. It had been completely quiet for the past half an hour. Bored, I tossed Jem's dagger into the air and snatched it again before it could hit the ground.

At last, I heard the clacking off heels echoing down the hall. They stopped just past my door and there were three knocks against Jem's door. I turned my head, straining to hear what was going on. The blonde woman asked Jem to join her downstairs. Jem, polite as ever, agreed, and I heard two sets of footsteps amble down the hall toward the stairs. When I was sure they were gone, I got up and crept out of my room. My bare feet made no sounds against the floorboards. I reached for the doorknob and turned it quietly, pushing the door open a crack.

"What are you doing?"

My hand froze on the door handle. I looked over my shoulder to see Jem standing behind me, his arms folded across his chest. I hadn't heard him come back up the stairs. His narrowed silver eyes were inquisitive, but I did not miss when they flitted to the faded scar on my bicep.

Calmly, I let go of the doorknob and raised my other hand, which held Jem's dagger. "Thought I'd return this to you."

"Your stealth suggests you're trying not to be seen, as opposed to trying to find me."

The lie rolled off my tongue, "You might have been sleeping. Wouldn't want to wake you."

"How considerate of you." Jem held out his hand, palm up.

"Then again," I dropped the dagger into his palm, "you might be a little too riled up to sleep. Maybe you were contemplating the oath you took to protect me. Maybe you don't really have it in you."

Jem sheathed the weapon behind him. "I am sorry for what I did to you, Will, but it was self-defense. I had to protect myself so I can protect you. I can't do my job with a busted face."

"The gouge in my floorboard suggests you took it a little farther than self-defense."

Smiling and completely at ease, Jem stepped forward and pulled his door closed. He withdrew a key from his pocket and locked the door. He tucked the key away and headed for the staircase.

"Something in there you don't want me to see?" I called out to him.

Without turning around he answered, "I don't want you looting through my stuff. You seem like the kind of guy who would steal my money and my Maxim magazines."

I laughed under my breath. I tried the door just for the hell of it, but it was securely locked. As I trudged back to my room, I wondered what secrets Jem had locked inside his room. Furthermore, I wondered what secrets James Carstairs had locked inside himself.