Well, here is chapter 2! Huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read and especially those who reviewed! Thanks everyone. Hope you like this chapter- let me know what you think =]

Disclaimer- Yeah... Not mine...

Simon was becoming a master of deceit. He would get up each morning, pretending to rub imaginary sleep from his eyes and faking a yawn for the benefit of his innocent mother. It almost made him chuckle sardonically- imagine if his poor mother ever discovered what her precious son was?! A Downworlder, a Vampire, a Creature of the Night… a monster through and through. Even now, as he went to answer the door, he pretended to stumble as he passed his mother in the kitchen. As if a vampire would be that graceless. Hah!

The person on the other side of the door was practically pounding on it- not simply knocking once or twice and waiting, but banging again and again without stopping. It was like the incessant pounding of a pneumatic drill driving into a solid roadside. Simon rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself at the impatience of some Mundanes as he yanked open the barrier between him and a certain Shadowhunter.

"Jace?" A look of unmasked surprise crossed Simon's features. "Ehhh… how can I help you?" He sounded unsure of himself as he presented this offer of help.

The Shadowhunter looked dishevelled and preoccupied, his hair windswept due to the large motorbike currently parked outside Simon's home. "Let me see Clary. I don't know what she thinks she's playing at, but let me see her right now." Jace's tone was commanding and straight to the point as per usual, but his voice was tinged with anxiety.

"Look, I don't know why you think Clary is here, Jace. But-"

"No," growled the Shadowhunter. He grabbed Simon by the collar and shoved him up against the wall of his own home. The look in his bright eyes was terrifying, Jace was a warrior and a killer, and Simon had never exactly been the boy's best friend as it was- but now he felt truly threatened. "Don't give me that. Let me see her. Now, bloodsucker! Or so help me, I'll-"

"Jace," Simon choked out. "I don't know what the hell is going on but Clary is not here. Try Luke's place." Jace stared into his dark eyes as if trying to identify sincerity.

"And for God's sake," Simon hissed. "Let me down before my mother walks out here and tries to beat you with her handbag!"

Jace slowly lowered the Downworlder until his feet touched the tarmac once more. They glared at each other with silent animosity. "What is going on, Wayland?" Simon demanded, brushing off his clothes. He had become somewhat more confident since becoming a member of the living dead.

"Nothing," replied Jace. "Just wanted to drop in for a friendly cup of tea, but once I got here I decided it would be more fun to watch you being pinned to a wall. Don't bother that little undead heart of yours with worries about my family. Call me if you see her, Dracula."

Simon stood speechless as the Shadowhunter briskly sped away in a badass cliché of tight black clothes and loud motorbike revs, the light breeze teasing at his golden hair. "Just someone selling Bibles, Mum." he called in response to her question.

Yes, Simon was becoming quite the master of deceit. Laughing at the ridiculous image of Jace Wayland going from door to door selling Bibles, the vampire slunk back into his house to text his best friend who was apparently Missing In Action.

*****

Jace Wayland was in a bad way. He was turning into a mush of sappy human emotions and he detested it with every fibre of his being. Cruising over the city on his stolen motorcycle, he cast a sharp eye on all the Mundies and Downworlders alike below. The last time he had been on this particular bike, Clary's arms had been wrapped tightly around him as her long, red hair tickled the back of his neck. And now, Clary was nowhere to be found. She was not at the Institute, she was not at the bloodsucker's abode, she was not at the hospital and she was not at the Werewolf's flat either. Jace had no idea as to where else she could be.

Unwilling to let himself imagine the alternative- that Valentine had managed to get his filthy hands on her- Jace preferred to blame Clarissa herself. Surely this was just a silly ploy to get some attention, or a means of escape from this new life. How could she do this to him? Didn't she know how she affected him? No one else had ever held this kind of power over him, not Alec or Isabelle or their parents. Not even his father. Her father. Their father. By the Angel, how it cut him to pieces to say that. Jace Wayland did not open up to people, he did not let them become too close and he certainly never let them override his heart and his head like Clarissa Fray had.

She was his sister. The only reason he was so worried was because she was his sister, and all big brothers hated to see anything happen to their little sisters. He was supposed to be there to pick her up when she fell down, to size up boys like Simon and threaten to break their faces if they broke her heart. He wasn't supposed to love her himself, she wasn't supposed to break his heart. Jace Wayland- Jace Morgenstern- was not supposed to have a heart.

Yet, Clary's Jace was a different story altogether. No matter how hard he tried, the person he became around her was completely different. Jace Wayland lived for hunting, he lived for the fight, Jace Morgenstern was a masochist who lived for pain, Clary's Jace lived for Clary. It was a messed up arrangement, three people fighting for dominance in the one body; each breaking through at different intervals. The though of it alone made the Shadowhunter's head spin and ache.

Shutting down his tumultuous thoughts, Jace cut the engine and landed by the greenhouse at the Institute. He needed to stock up on a few things before he resumed his search for Miss Clarissa Fray. No matter how long it took, he would find her. If it killed him, he would find her.