I lounged in the booth, my black boots propped up on the table. I picked at my nails, pretending to be busy. In reality I was taking in the diner. Coast Diner wasn't just any retro-styled diner a hundred miles from the sea. No, it catered to Downworlders. None of which were paying any attention to me.

There were about a dozen, counting in the faerie cook back in the kitchen. Vampires, werewolves and faeries, all living in harmony or some crap like that. That's something that Finn had said at one point. I hadn't been listening, not really. I had been more focused on his lips than the words coming out of them.

The door jangled open. Finally, I thought. The entire ensemble was here, the regulars for a weekday night at the diner. My boots slammed on the floor as I stood from my booth. And by my booth I mean my booth. I'd etched my name underneath the table years ago.

I walked towards the door like I was leaving but then I stopped and turned the lock on the door. I turned and saw that now everyone was staring at me, my runes clearly seen in the diner light. I felt the seraph blade in my jacket but I knew that I wouldn't need it. "Nobody leaves until someone tells me where Brady is."

One of the vampires threw his head back in laughter, his fangs catching the light. "You think we're going to give up one of our own?" His red hair matched the red stain of blood around his mouth. Probably lamb's blood. Probably.

"Brady isn't one of you, he hasn't been for a long time." Years ago I remember that he had. He was one of the regular customers at Coast Diner. Blood-lust changed all that.

"The fact remains that you aren't either," the red-headed vampire pointed out. "Nephilim." He stat the word with such hatred that he barred his fangs at me.

I just stared at him. "I don't get it. Are you trying to scare me? You look more like a chihuahua than a vampire."

The vampire let out a growl as a stood up from his booth. "You'll regret that." He was on me in vampire speed. But I was ready for him. My hand was around his throat faster than he could even show his teeth. My nails dug into his skin. That wasn't something I'd learnt from anything Shadowhunter.

"You really want to do this, Dylan? Again? Last time I beat your ass I heard you went and cried to Maverick, like he would do anything to me." I pushed Dylan away with such force that he landed on the ground.

Dylan rose up on his elbows, growling at me again. "The hotel on 12th street," someone from the other side of the room finally spoke.

The vampire whipped his head around and glared at him. "Seth!"

The old man shrugged. He wasn't actually a downworlder. Was just a mundane, a mundane with the Sight. Instead of being scared of the things he saw in the dark he embraced them. "Why do you care about Brady? He's been a pain in our neck for ages. It's about time someone takes care of him."

"I don't care about Brady, I care about her," Dylan spat. "She's Nephilim, our enemy and you're all just so ready to let her walk all over you like she owns the place."

I unlocked the door, but I looked behind me before I left. "Thanks, Seth." The old man always came through for me. He always came through for everyone. He was the downworlders' personal grandpa. I stared the walk out the door and then stopped. "By the way, Dylan- I acted like I owned the place long before I even got my first rune. And I still kicked your ass then."

No one stopped me as I left the diner. I found my motorcycle where I had left it, in the same spot that it always was. I put on my helmet out of habit. I didn't really need one, given my blood and runes I'd probably walk away from an accident but I'd worn one since I was a kid so it was second nature.

I pulled off down the old road that hadn't been paved in ten or so years. The area looked like where you would find drug dens and murderers. That wasn't exactly far from the truth.

As I drove I considered calling for backup. It wasn't that late but I instantly decided against it. Brady was mine.

When I pulled into the alley behind the hotel I realized that I didn't have the room number Brady was in. I shrugged, it shouldn't be to hard to follow the blood and carnage. I quickly runed and glamoured myself, not wanting to deal with mundanes.

I walked through the hotel, unseen. The lobby was normal, the reception and bell hoppers unaware of what was going on upstairs.

I took the stairwell, checking each floor for the scent of blood and death. Finally, on the tenth floor I heard loud music banging in the suite. Taking the stake out of my jacket I knew this was the room.

I kicked the door open, unwilling to wait for someone to open it. Unwilling to let Brady make it seem like this was just a normal party.

No, I found him sitting on the couch, an innocent girl in his grasp. He was sucking the life out of her. "Sydney!" He exclaimed tearing his fangs from her neck. Fear was in his eyes, he knew he had been caught. He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve and stood up. "To what do I owe the peasure?" he tried.

"Condolences for the cell in hell you're going to rot in." Before I was even done speaking the stake was flying through the air, impaling Brady in the chest. I was done being lienant.

Glancing at the girl, now unconscious, I knew she'd be fine. Brady never drank enough to kill, except when he went off the rails, like two weeks prior.

I pressed the emergency button on the hotel phone and let it hang before walking out of the room. Glamoured, I walked out of the hotel unseen and I only deglamoured myself when I hopped on my motorcycle. The last thing this city needed was to see a motorcycle riding itself.

I took off into the night.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the prologue of this story so far! I have the next few chapters finished, they just need to be edited and then I'll upload! Don't forget to vote and comment!