A/N: It seems like this story is a little more popular than a lot of my other stories, so I'm thanking those of you who reviewed but I'm a little peeved at those of you who didn't. If any of you could, I would like it if someone gave me some constructive criticism. No flames are allowed, but CC is allowed, even encouraged!

Okay, so here's the third chapter.

Chapter 3

Poetry Night

They got to Eric's poetry night in the middle of someone else speaking on the microphone. But Eric was standing next to the stage, looking like he was half scared to death. Of course, as soon as he got onto the stage, he would be perfectly fine spewing whatever crap he had come up with. "I don't know if I was in full control of my body when I told you that I'd come to this." Jace leaned over and whispered to Blake.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with amusement. "Well, it was either this or stay at your house for that screaming match between you and your mom. Which would you prefer?" He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, a sure sign that the subject wasn't a good one. "What the hell did your mom do now?"

With a sigh, he began explaining everything that had happened, from the night before to what had happened before he had left. "Don't worry your little head about it. Your mom gets like that sometimes–like when she breathes in and out." With a laugh, the tension between the two decreased and Blake went to get the two of them some coffee.

Jace looked all around the room, finding it to be the exact same as the last time they had been here, besides the people. But, sometimes (especially lately) it seemed like Jace was seeing strange people entering and leaving the place. Some had all kinds of strange decorations, others had sharp teeth like vampires, and others sometimes had claws.

But tonight, not one of those strange people were there. Everyone there that night was normal, or at least as normal as a bunch of poetry geeks. But there was one guy, dark haired and green eyed, that was staring at Jace, one that nearly made him want to look away in discomfort. "Hey," Jace looked to the guy and saw that he was talking to him. "Is that girl you're hanging with, does she have a boyfriend or something?"

And, with a laugh, he shook his head. "Nah; she's single. Why, you interested?" The boy shrugged and quickly turned away as Jace sensed Blake coming back, the coffee smelling great. "You see that guy over there?" Jace asked her before taking a sip, pointing to the brunette haired as he smirked. "The guy thinks you're cute. Maybe you should go talk to him."

Blake rolled her eyes and shook her head as she leaned into the couch Jace had chosen for their seats. "It wouldn't be fair to the guy if I talked to him. I'd get his hopes up for nothing," Blake replied, wincing as she took a sip of hot coffee. "Besides. I like someone else."

Jace felt his eyebrows hit the ceiling; the words a surprise that stunned even him. "That's new. Mind explaining?" Jace asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as Blake playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"Oh screw you Jonathon Fray. If you must know, he's on the football team, junior varsity, and varsity baseball. That should keep you guessing for a while," She replied, smug as she looked to the small stage where Eric was now standing. The two of them, along with the majority of people in there, winced from the feedback as he tapped on the mic. "Oh joy, here we go."

The terrible poetry lasted way too long, Jace thought absentmindedly as his eyes strayed from the stage and around the café. Which was when he heard the giggle and he looked behind him to find the red head from last night, a smirk on her lips as she surveyed him and Blake. She waved in their direction before sending a 'come hither' gesture to him.

It only took a moment when Jace looked down at Blake then back that Clary disappeared, as if she hadn't been there in the first place. "Jace?" He looked down at Blake, half preoccupied with wanting to chase after that girl. "Your phone's been ringing for a while now. How about you answer it before your mom gets even more pissed than usual," She said, pointing at his pocket.

"Oh, yeah. Hey, I gotta go Blake. I'll talk to you later," He said, throwing his coffee cup into the garbage on his way out of the little café.

He checked his calls and found that his mom had called him almost twenty times in the past hour and a half, which meant she was seriously worried about something. "Hey," A voice called from the alley. Jace looked up and found her sitting on one of the metal trashcans, her long white dress now traded for a sleeveless mens under armour shirt that, Jace noticed absently, showed off what chest she had. And for pants he was surprised to find her wearing tight, black leather with a belt resting on her hips and boots that reminded Jace of the military.

Jace took one look at her before going back to his phone, dialing his mom's number and holding it up to his ear. "Really, you're going to ignore me? You better feel lucky that I don't have anything better to do," Clary grumbled, crossing her arms as she waited impatiently.

It barely took the first ring and Jocelyn Fray was on the phone, speaking quickly and her words a jumble for Jace to comprehend. "Mom, if you're pissed I'll just head home but I'm not going to give in—"

"NO! You can't come home Jace! Go to Blake's or one of the guys, go to Luke's! Just don't come home!" Jocelyn cried into the phone hysterically. "Jace, I mean it! Don't go home!"

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Jace yelled into the phone, feeling the curious eyes of Clary getting more and more intense as the conversation went on. "What's wrong at the house?"

"It doesn't matter Jace!" She said, her voice no louder than a whisper now. Jace had to listen carefully just to hear her. "Just listen to me and don't come home. And please remember that I love you. Just please don't come home. It's too dangerous right now," She said, a thud coming through the phone, like something trying to get through a door. "I love you Jace."

The line went dead and Jace was left standing there, stupidly staring at his cell phone. "Jace?" The quiet, calm voice of Clary snapped him out of his stupor. It just sounded so different that he found himself drawn to it. "What happened? Can you tell me what happened to your mom. What did she say?"

"I-I don't know," He said, his hand trembling as he went to hit redial—only to drop his phone, picking it up to find the screen in pieces and the buttons no longer working. "Shit! Do you have a phone or something?"

"The only thing I have on me is a sensor but—hey, it won't help you very much!" She yelled in annoyance as he took the little cell phone shaped object out of her hands and tried using it. But, like she said, it didn't help. There weren't any numbers. Instead, there were strange little symbols on the buttons. "Jace, don't try anything stupid. Whatever your mom was worried about you don't need to get in the middle of it."

But Jace was over listening to everyone else. So, instead of paying Clary any heed, he took off in the direction of his house.

The complex didn't look very different. It looked the same but there was something very…off about it. Maybe it was just a feeling from the phone call but Jace knew there was something wrong with the place. Something had happened and it wasn't exactly good.

He stalked towards the stairs, careful to avoid any kind of people the might be passing through. And he nearly made it to his floor until he reached Madame Dorothea's—the resident 'witch' of the complex. "Jonathon Fray, Luke told me a week ago that he'd come over and change this light bulb in the hallway. And tell your mom to keep it down; whatever she's doing she's making a racket and it's giving me a headache," Madame Dorothea said, opening her door just enough to reveal some of the witchery going on inside.

"I'll be sure to remind Luke, Madame Dorothea," Jace said, gritting his teeth to keep from telling off the elder woman. He didn't stay behind to listen to her rant on, instead heading up the stairs even as she called after him.

The door wasn't closed like it should've been. It was opened a crack, like someone had meant to slam it closed but hadn't made it that far. Going against was his entire body was screaming at him to do, Jace walked through the door—albeit quietly—to try and investigate. There wasn't a thing there; not a sound could be heard as he walked throughout the small house.

But someone had definitely been through there. Jace found almost everything overturned in their home, everything thrown around as if someone was looking for something. Even his own room was ransacked, his mattress laying feet from his bed frame and his computer lying lopsided on the opposite side of the room, screen cracked as if it had been thrown there.

The last place he checked was his mom's room and, to his surprise, the room was in perfect condition. Even the box on the side of the bed with Jace's dad's picture in it was still there, still with that lock of red hair and a ring.

That was when he heard the scraping and the sliding, like a snake across a hard floor. It was almost like he could hear the thing slithering, the hissing and scratching getting louder as it got closer to his mom's room. Absentmindedly, he picked up one of his old bats that Jocelyn kept in there for protection, although they'd never needed to use it.

The cracked door opened as something pushed it and in came something that reminded Jace of a cross between an alligator and a centipede, a hug stinger on the end of its tail that looked ready to kill. But that wasn't the thing that crossed his mind first. It was the fact that he could hear this thing speak. The hissing was like words, words that Jace wished he never had to hear again.

The thing clawed at the floor, trying to get him as he tried getting away. Jace tried hitting the thing with his bat once, twice, but the metal bat only bounced off of the thing as if it were hitting metal. And then the thing was on top of him, clawing at him and drooling onto his skin—the green slobber burned wherever it touched, like acid.

Only when those sharp teeth were inches from biting right through him did Jace remember the sensor he'd taken from Clary. It took some maneuvering but he'd managed to get to the pocket holding the damn thing and, when it went in for another bite, he shoved the sensor into the monster's mouth.

The monster paused long enough to give Jace a chance to escape, standing with his back against the door as he watched the thing twitch and claw. It was only when he was sure the thing wasn't going to attack him again that he took off, only to feel something catch him in the back of the neck, right below where his hair ended. He heard the thing's struggles but they got quieter and quieter as the edge of Jace's vision started getting darker and darker—until it went entirely black.

"Don't move too much," Jace heard a voice tell him, pulling him out of the darkness to stare straight into the green eyes of Clary. "The damn thing got you just as it was dying but it still managed to inject some venom. Dammit, we can't move with those demons on the lawn," She said and, from the red hair that was recognizable even in the dark, Jace knew it was Clary.

"Clary, we've gotta get the mundie out of here before the find us here. Try making a complete glamour rune or something so we can get out of here," Another voice, this one belonging to a guy. When he finally came into view Jace had the name on the tip of his tongue, something that started with an S he was sure.

"That would take care of us but what about him? I mean, he's dead whether or not we get out of here; it'll take a while to get out of here. While we're at it, we might as well give him an iratze or something," She said, and then her eyes lit up as if she had a great idea. "Simon, I think I've just figured out our plan. Hand me my stele, will you?"

Simon looked down at the two with distaste, reluctantly handing over the wooden handled stele, frowning disapprovingly. "Clary, I get what you're trying to do but if this doesn't work, do you know how much pain he's going to be in? Yeah, he'll die but it'll be ten times worse," He replied matter-of-factly, watching as she set to work.

"I get that but he's going to die with or without our help at this point if we don't use runes. So I'm willing to do this, if it'll keep him alive," She said, Jace watching her with some kind of interest as he felt something stinging his chest—he couldn't remember when his shirt had been taken. Before long, the stinging was gone and was replaced by a feeling of contentment. "Now come on and let me draw the rune on, so we can at least try to make it past the damn demons scouting out his house," Clary told Simon, leaving Jace on the ground as he began losing consciousness again.

The last thing he saw was Clary's eyes as she began working on the rune, her eyes focused on her job.