"I can't believe that little bastard got away," Jace grumbled, closing the front door of the Institute behind him. Alec, who had been walking in front of him, glared at Jasmine.

"If Amsterdam here hadn't stopped us, he wouldn't have," he spat, and Jasmine flinched.

"It's not her fault," Jace sighed, but he didn't sound too sure.

"Sure it is," Isabelle said. "She believed the thing when he said he knew where Valentine was. Kind of stupid, if you ask me—"

"No one did," Jasmine whispered to herself. Isabelle whipped around and eyed her.

"What did you say?"

"Isabelle," Jasmine started desperately, "I said I was sorry. I just—why would he mention Valentine if he died sixteen years ago?"

"Because he wanted us to spare him, which we—thanks to you—did," said Alec. Jasmine ruffled her hair, which had come out of its high ponytail (the rubber band had snapped, thanks to the thickness of her hair), and shrugged of her gear jacket.

"I feel really bad, but if there is any chance Valentine is alive, then we did the right thing by keeping the demon alive. We had to know for sure," Jasmine defended.

"They found his bones—Valentine's bones—a long time ago," said Jace, not unkindly.

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Isabelle snapped. "We didn't get to kill that damn demon because you're too freaking naïve."

"I'm sorry!"

"Good." With that, Alec stormed off. Isabelle looked hesitant, but eventually followed her brother. Jasmine miserably slid down the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest.

Jace stared down at her. "So you're really going to sit here and sulk?"

Jasmine glared. "I'm not sulking," she said. "I'm just frustrated."

"You're sulking." Jace gave her the ghost of a smile and sat down next to her.

"It was one demon," Jasmine said.

"I know, and we'll get him. Or maybe not. But Izzy and Alec will get over it," Jace said. "I promise."

Jasmine felt the nagging need to lay her head on Jace's shoulder and it startled her, because while she did trust people easily, she never felt comfortable enough with them to do that. To leave herself vulnerable. It usually took some time to get there, as well, and she'd only do it if the other person did it first.

She quickly got to her feet, picked up her jacket and thanked him, before heading up to her room. She threw herself down on the bed, trying not to think about Jace's side profile, or the fierce look on his face when they'd cornered that demon from before. Whenever she closed her eyes, though, she saw some part of him, whether that'd be his jawline, long eyelashes, or tawny hair. Was he really as perfect as he seemed? He was conceited, sure, but somehow that seemed to add to his perfection. And whenever he looked down at her through half-lidded eyes—

Bzzzzzzzzzz

Jasmine sat up and rummaged through her duffel bag, which she still hadn't completely unpacked, and got out her flip phone. It vibrated in her hand, and Jasmine felt her stomach twist.

She had seventeen missed calls, and all from her father. And now he was calling her again for the eighteenth time. She wondered if he knew she was gone, but she was sure that if she hung up on him, he'd suspect something. Not that seventeen missed calls weren't enough to worry a parent.

When she picked up, she got an earful.

"To maloom hast kojai?!"

(Translated)

Jasmine flinched at her father's booming voice. He probably knew she was gone. "I'm sorry I didn't pick up, I just—I was busy."

"Don't give me that, I've been calling you since yesterday!" Amir hollered into the phone. "Where the hell have you been?! That damn tutor of yours didn't know either."

"I was out. With friends. I'm sorry."

"Where are you now?"

Jasmine bit her lip. "At the Institute." She didn't say which Institute. "I'm fine. I'm safe. Don't worry about me."

"That's not the point, child. I am not just anyone—I'm your father. I raised you, sacrificed so much for you. When I call, you pick up. Understood?" Amir asked. There was no warmth in his voice, not one bit.

"Yes, sir." Jasmine's voice wavered.

"Good. I'll talk to you later." And he hung up.

Jasmine breathed out, grateful that she'd never lied to her father before. If she had, he wouldn't have believed her when she'd said that she was at the Institute. He'd have called Marielle, her tutor, to check.

She thought about her tutor, who was supposed to teach her about the Shadow World, to train her mentally, but who also kept her company while she trained. She was a nice lady in her sixties with short, white hair and wrinkly skin. Jasmine wasn't training full-time anymore (that ended when she turned fifteen), but her father still wanted her to keep practicing, because he felt that she wasn't good enough to stop completely and focus on killing demons.

Part of that was that Noella Trueblood, Jasmine's late mother, hadn't allowed Amir to start training her before she died. Not intensely anyway. Not the way Amir had wanted to train their daughter.

Jasmine hadn't trained in a while. Maybe three, four days. She was getting a little stiff, despite all of the walking and fighting of the past two days. Maybe the walking and the fighting had made her stiff. Her muscles were sore and she was tired. She didn't like training one bit, but she knew that she needed it. Knew that it kept her healthy.

And so she got up, braided her hair out of her face and went to find the training room, her fingers around the hilt of one of her seraph blades. She found it, in the attic. Jasmine was pleased to find nobody was there, so she could run around freely without having to worry about embarrassing herself. She felt really bad about Alec and Isabelle being mad at her, and the sound of her father's voice still bounced around in her head.

She took her daggers out and aimed them at the dummy in the corner, which had an arrow sticking out of its chest and was generally just beaten up, hitting its face first and then its neck. Jasmine would have been impressed with herself at any other time, but at that moment she just felt worn out. Worn out and sad.

She looked around and saw a thing she didn't know the English name of, holding a bunch of spears. Was it a rack? She shrugged and lifted one spear, weighing it in her hands. It was heavier than the ones she was used to—not that she was very good at throwing those, either.

She looked down at the rune on her right hand, the one that was supposed to help her handle weapons better. It had never done its job right for some reason.

Jasmine took hold of the spear and threw it at the dummy, watching it sink into its leg. At least she'd hit the damn thing. Though that didn't make her happy at all. She sank to the floor, crossing her legs. She put her head in her hands.

"Done already?" a voice said, startling her enough to get a yelp out of her. She spun on her behind, turning to face Jace, leaning against the doorway. He did that a lot, Jasmine thought.

"Did you follow me up here?" she asked.

"I was curious," Jace said.

"Well, there you have it. World's worst Shadowhunter, right here." Jasmine sounded miserable, even to her own ears.

"I wouldn't say that. Stand up for a second." Jace walked over as she got to her feet. "You rely too much on your arms. It's not enough." He took her seraph blade from her belt and made her hold it. He adjusted her elbows, knees and shoulders, and told her to relax her muscles. "It's like you're training for the first time," he said.

"It's the first time I'm training without somebody breathing down my throat."

"Neck." Jace stood back and said, "Keep your eyes on the target. Don't think about failing. It'll come naturally. We don't have runes for nothing."

Jasmine did what he'd told her: she took a breath to relax her muscles, looked at the dummy's chest, and—

"This is embarrassing," she said with a sigh.

"You can't worry about that," Jace said seriously. "Don't. It doesn't matter. Just focus."

Jasmine swallowed. "All right." She ran for the dummy, her sword held next to her torso and not in front of it—her father had taught her that—and penetrated the doll's chest with her blade, her mind on nothing but the task at hand.

"See? You're a natural," Jace said with a grin. Jasmine smiled politely, very aware of the fact that Jace hadn't meant that. He just wanted her to feel better. "Want to do some flips now?"

She looked at the beams in the room, each about twenty feet high. "No way," she said.

"Why not? It's fun."

"I'm afraid of heights," Jasmine said, and knew that it was childish to say and so un-Shadowhunterlike, but she couldn't help it. "I know that I'll get dizzy up there, and I'll fall."

"Not on the ground, you won't. I'll go get us a rope. Be back in five minutes—don't go anywhere," he added when he saw her expression.

o000o

"Come on, Jasmine. Jump," said Jace. He stood at the foot of the beam she was standing on, his hand fisted in his hair. He was patient with her, though. More patient than Amir had ever been with her. Jasmine saw double when she looked down, her stomach twisting and turning. She hated this. She hated all of it.

"You don't have to help me train," she said in an attempt to get out of jumping.

"It's not like I have anything else to do right now, " Jace pointed out. "Jump. Now, Jasmine." There was something in his voice—something like a gentle seriousness—that made her want to try it. She'd done this maybe twice or three times before, but had refused to pursue any kind of training that was even an inch above the floor.

She breathed in sharply, squeezed her eyes shut and jumped. She felt herself falling, and then doing a kind of twist-but-not-really in the air. She lost control and found herself dangling in the air, five feet above Jace's head.

"That wasn't terrible, was it?" he asked, staring up at her.

"No, just bad," Jasmine said, trying not to look down from there. "I'm telling you, I can't do it."

"You just did."

"No, I mean for real. Like actually doing a kick-flip thing I see other Shadowhunters do all the time," Jasmine said. "Help me get down from here."

Jace jumped, grabbed the rope she was attached to, and released her. She gasped, afraid that she'd fall, but Jace caught her between his legs before she could close her eyes. She, shakily, grabbed his booted feet and climbed down. She was only a few inches off the ground when she let go, but she still fell on her butt. Jace jumped down and offered her a hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he helped her up. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine. Just… not a big fan of heights."

"You have to get rid of that fear," Jace said.

"I know, I know," said Jasmine, tucking a couple loose strands of hair behind her ears. "I don't know how, though. Jumping doesn't help. My dad tried to help me get rid of it by pushing me out the highest window with only a rope to hold onto." She laughed at the memory, even though she didn't think it was funny at all. She just thought it was unbelievable how abusive her father actually was.

When Jace didn't look horrified, or even surprised, Jasmine wondered if he'd been brought up the same way. "Well, I'm going to help you get rid of it now."

"How?"

Jace grinned wickedly. "By making it fun."

o000o

Isabelle sat in front of her vanity, gripping the bottom of her chair painfully as Alec's fingers worked on a lock of hair that had gotten caught on the zipper of her gear jacket. "It's not letting go, Iz. Maybe we should just cut it—"

"No, are you insane?" said Isabelle indignantly. They were definitely not cutting her hair. It was her pride and joy.

"Well, it's either that or rip it out of your head," Alec said, tugging hard enough for Isabelle to yelp.

"I should've braided it or something," Isabelle groaned through clenched teeth. "Do you think Jasmine could—" She didn't get to finish her sentence, because a shriek cut across her words. Isabelle turned to look at her brother. "Did you hear that?"

"Of course I heard that," said Alec.

Another scream was heard, and the sound that followed was either a laugh or sobbing, and Isabelle didn't think the person who was screaming was having much fun.

Isabelle and Alec bolted towards the door, Isabelle's head cocked so that her jacket didn't pull at her hair. She cussed inwardly. They followed the sound of the sobbing and reached the attic, where Jace hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth, his arms tightly wrapped around Jasmine's torso. She looked like a rag doll with her back pressed to Jace's chest and legs flying freely. She was screeching and… laughing. She wasn't crying, she was laughing her head off. She was looking pale though, the color completely gone from her face.

Isabelle looked at Alec, who was glaring at the pair. He left before they could see him.

"What's going on in here?" Isabelle said loudly.

Jasmine bit her lip. "Jace is just… helping me get the hang of this somersault thing."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You did not just make that pun."

"I didn't mean to," said Jasmine with a sheepish grin. She looked up at Jace, who was grinning as well. "You can let me down now."

"Jump," Jace told her. "I'll lower you and—"

"What? No, I can't—"

"We've just established that you can do more than you think. So jump. Onto the floor mat."

Jasmine pursed her lips, closed her eyes and squealed when Jace loosened his grasp on her. She fell until Jace's knees were where his arms had been. She kicked out both of her legs, and when she was ready to jump, Jace let go of her. She landed perfectly, the way a frog would, in a crouched position.

Jasmine looked up in surprise, and Jace turned his attention to Isabelle.

"What happened to your neck?" he asked.

"My hair—it's stuck," Isabelle said.

Jasmine grimaced. "Ooh, I know the feeling. Here, I'll help you," she said. Isabelle was relieved when she got to straighten her neck again. Jasmine tugged twice, twisted the lock and got most of it free, spare for a few hairs that couldn't be saved.

"Wow, that was quick. It took Alec twenty minutes to get about a tenth out," said Isabelle, rubbing her sore scalp.

Jasmine grinned. "My hair is one big bird's nest. I've had my fair share of… what do you call them?"

"Tangles?" Isabelle tried.

"I was looking for a more clever term," Jasmine said sheepishly. "Anyway, I meant to say that I've gotten good at getting the tangles out."

Isabelle could see why guys would be attracted to Jasmine. Despite the fact that she was obviously pretty, her personality was cute. She was obnoxiously dense sometimes, but she was humble and meant well. She was a nice girl.

Isabelle had never been able to stand delicate-looking girls. The kind with the soft faces, dimples and bright eyes like a child's in a candy store. For some reason, though, she liked Jasmine. Sort of. Maybe it was just her blood talking. They were cousins, after all.

Isabelle turned to Jace, who was still dangling mid-air. She wondered if he was going to get down from there anytime soon, but found that she didn't care enough to ask.

"All right, I'm going to take a shower," she said. Jasmine didn't look like she'd heard her. She was staring at Jace admiringly. Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I take it you two are going to keep practicing flips?"

"For now," said Jace.

"Mhm," Jasmine agreed.

"Have fun," Isabelle said monotonously, strutting out of the training room. Before showering, she decided, she had to find Alec. Make sure he was all right. He probably was, though. Maybe a little annoyed, but it wasn't anything a night's sleep couldn't fix. She hoped.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think 3