EDITED

Chapter One

"I'm never doing that again," said Jace. Clary had a right mind to agree with him.

Clary climbed to her feet, disorientated, a headache began pounding away at her temples. She glanced around. They were in an arched walkway, all cobblestones and brick, dark reds and greys blended together. A sudden odour hit her: a cross between damp and the stench of sewers, combined with cigarette smoke.

Isabelle, Jace and Alec stood in a huddle beside her, each as rumbled as the next. Isabelle muttered to Alec about the smell. Jace laid a hand resting on Clary's shoulder, the warmth of his touch an anchor that she very much needed. She began treading carefully towards the light at the end of the alley, her footsteps echoing loudly in her ears. She glanced down at herself; her clothes were damp from where she'd landed, and grime coated her bare knees, where a hole in her jeans could be seen. Something tickled the back of her mind like a familiar sense was trying to float to the surface and it wasn't until she'd made it out under the sky and smelled the fresh air, that it really developed. Behind her, she gestured for the others to follow, but each was as hesitant as she probably should have been.

"I think we're in hell, " Jace said, and then turned to Alec. "Your stupid Warlock of a boyfriend sent us to Hell. I hope you're happy."

"Guys, shut up a second," Clary held up a hand but no one seemed to notice. There lay a small grass area in front of them, a couple of benches bordered it and people were sitting, some with umbrellas unfolded, and some with hats. Men, women, children.

Beautiful horses, of all shades of black and white, pulled along carriages. Children ran across the street wearing all variations of clothes, some mere rags, others slightly smarter shirts and trousers. There was a store with a sign outside it advertising sweets. In the centre of the garden they faced, was a statue of a man who she didn't recognise. At the far end of the square was a church, a giant clock face at the top proclaiming it to be just past seven in the evening. Despite the time, the sky was still fairly light and she could see the sun beginning to set behind faint orange clouds.

Clary thought she could see a sign to the West End from where she stood, but the air around them was foggy and like something in her had clicked into place, she knew where they were.

A drop of water hit her face and as she looked up, grey clouds covered them.

"Guys," Clary said, dazed. She had her back to them, but she knew they were listening. "I think we're in London."

"Indeed you are," said a mild voice, the sound of the English accent hit her with finality and she spun around to see who had spoken.

The figure shadowed in the alley from where they'd just come was a young man, not much older or taller than Jace or Alec. Dark, almost black, hair framed his face in a disarray very much like Jace when he just woke up.

He looked at them with hooded eyes, and in one hand he held an umbrella, balancing it like a walking stick. In his other hand, he held a silver dagger, and Clary gasped suddenly.

"Who are you?" asked Clary. She dared take a step closer, bridging the gap between them, but Jace quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.

The boy frowned as the rain began to come down harder. Clary shivered, wrapping her arms around herself from the cold.

"I said," The boy repeated. "That you are in London, but maybe I wasn't speaking English enough for you." He smirked, tilting his head a fraction as though curious. "And... you can see me?" It seemed to catch him off guard, this realisation, and Clary felt a Pang of recognition.

"Are you supposed to-" started Isabelle, while Clary said, "You're a shadow hunter?"

The boy smiled, though a shadow of doubt flickered in his eyes. She pulled herself free of Jace, who didn't appear to like whatever was going on. "Bugger!" He checked something on his wrist, glancing at them all now and again. "Blasted thing isn't working right. I'm not supposed to be seen by mundanes."

"Who are you calling mundane, mundane?" growled Jace, who was in front of the boy in all of three steps.

This made Alec groan and step forward to join him.

"Jace, don't antagonise the first person that might actually be able to help us!" Clary snapped. There were only a few feet between them and the new boy, and she didn't want to cause the stranger a reason to use the knife. Not that Jace couldn't defend himself if he had to.

"Why would I want to help a bunch of..." The boy dropped his sinister smile and frowned, obviously stuck for words. He gave them all a wondrous look up and down and raised an eyebrow, "What are you, exactly?"

Clary put out a warning hand, trying to calm him. "It's complicated."

"Understatement of the century," Isabelle muttered. "Can we go somewhere it's not raining, please?"

"Well, you could come with me. I'm sure you'd be welcome to dry yourselves. The angel knows we don't get many guests."

"This is amazing," Clary turned to the others. "You know what this means?"

Alec raised two eyebrows. "That we're stuck in London with no money and no passport?"

"Ugh. No. Alec, wake up! This boy is a shadowhunter…"

"So…? So are we."

"She means, dumbass. That if he's like us, then there must be an institute nearby. We can call-" Isabelle stopped, horrified. "Oh no. If the Clave find out, Magnus will get arrested. Or…hell. We'll be arrested." She met Clary's gaze. "Clary, we can't go with him."

Clary lifted her shoulders in a half-assed shrug. "Unless you know some time-travel expert hidden up your sleeve, then we don't have much choice." She glanced at the boy who looked confused. "Can you help us?"

"If you say 'take us to your leader' I'm gone," Jace said. Clary shot him a glare.

The boy blinked. "Forgive me, but I haven't the faintest idea what you're all talking about."

"My name is Clary," said Clary. "And this is Jace, Alec and his sister Isabelle." She pointed to each in turn. "We just need contact with the Clave, if that's possible."

"Ah, so you're like me, too? Well, that answers that question." He smirked. "I suppose I can help you, but I suggest you hurry because it can get mighty dangerous at night."

Clary smiled, relief flooding her veins. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The boy smiled again and lightly bowed his head under the umbrella.

He shrugged, and it seemed to animate his whole body. "My name is William Herondale," he said, coming toward them. It was then that Clary saw how blue his eyes were and how much older he appeared than on first appearance. "Welcome to London. And, uh, mind the ducks. They tend to wander."