There was a place in the New York Institute Jace Wayland could go for peace and tranquility. Not his room, because no matter what he would say or do, Alec or Isabelle or Max would always come in for some reason. Clary was with Simon –just thinking that made him frown unhappily- and Maryse and Robert Lightwood were at a meeting for the Clave. The institute's only guests were Jace, Alec, Isabelle, Max, and Church, the Institute's cat. Max and Church could still interrupt Jace's peace, but Max was busy with the computer, and Church was dozing lazily.

Jace strutted up the steps to the greenhouse.

Alec and Isabelle didn't know Jace had gotten up, and probably wouldn't be happy once they found out. The whole past week the Lightwood children had been ordering Jace around like worrisome mother hens. "Eat this!", "Get some rest!", "What do you think you're doing out of bed?", and "We told you you'd get sick if you stayed out in the rain, didn't we?" were popular among them. It annoyed the hell out of Jace.

Alec and Isabelle's allergies to the greenhouse kept them from entering, and since everyone else was busy, Jace had the whole greenhouse to himself. It offered Jace as close to a sanctuary as he could get in New York. It was a nice feeling, really, knowing there was somewhere that practically belonged to Jace himself. He strolled through the gardens and sat upon a marble bench, which was conveniently placed in front of a small pond, where tiny minnows darted in. Next to Jace, a dull colored, limping flower sat, but Jace knew in the dead of the night, they would stand straight and glow like flashlights. There were a couple lining the path through the greenhouse, making sure any late-nighters wouldn't trip and fall.

Jace let his breath out for the first time in days. His shoulders' stiff posture fell and he let himself slouch, but in all honesty, he was never one hundred percent relaxed. Even if he did look it nearly twenty-four-seven.

Once he relaxed, or as much as he could, his mind pivoted back to the events in the past week. Jace groaned, head in hands, guilt fogging his system. His first thought was this:

I lied to Alec and Isabelle.

It was true. He, in fact, did remember what happened that night. He just didn't have the heart to tell them.

He didn't usually lie for the sake of others- or even for himself. But there was once or twice he would feel compelled to lie. That feeling had increased since Clary had gotten involved in the Shadowhunting career. But this lie was worse, because the information hidden was actually important…

An angry Jace was bad. A tired, upset Jace was worse. An exhausted, perturbed, violent Jace was something else entirely- beyond comparison.

Jace stalked through the park, angry, upset, and violent, as said before. His footsteps echoed in the night like thunder.

How had Clary known he was at Central Park was a mystery to him. He wondered if Alec and Isabelle had come looking for him already. He hoped not. Or maybe he wanted someone to come and take him back to where he belonged. Maybe.

A sharp strike to his back told him all of three things:

One: Someone had snuck up on him without him realizing it at all, which was highly unusual.

Two: It was either a gang member with a knife, or a demon with a sharp claw.

Three: As he went down, he hit his head on the concrete, and most likely caused a concussion.

Not good.

He jumped up and twirled, facing his attacker, and gasping once he realized it was not a gangster, but a demon. And not only was the demon large and fierce-looking, but a tall, white haired man stood a few feet behind the demon.

"V…" Jace's world spun- a side effect of a concussion. He couldn't form the word.

"My son," Valentine nearly purred, looking as worried as a man like Valentine could.

Jace's mouth opened, and he forced the words out, trying his best to ignore the pounding in his head. "You…. What are you… doing here…?"

"I came to visit you."

"Like… this?"

"This isn't how I planned it, no." Valentine shrugged. His eyes flitted toward the demon momentarily before back to Jace. "This is a new kind of demon, Jonathan. I apologize for the injury, but as I said, it's a new breed, thus thinks it has control." Valentine, to prove his displeasure, glared at the beast and with a jerk of his hand, disembodied it. It folded in and vanished. Jace's breathing increased.

"If you want to join me, then you must do it now, Jonathan." Valentine said, after a moment of silence. Join him? Jace frowned through his muddled mind. Why would he want to do that? As if reading his mind, Valentine sighed. "This new breed is one of hundreds. More powerful, more dangerous, and more evil. You won't be able to defeat them as easily as the other demons in the past."

"Don't… even try… convincing me, Valentine." Jace hissed.

Valentine sucked in his breath sharply. "'Father'." He scolded angrily. "You will not address me using me first name. That's disrespectful, Jonathan." He turned on his heel. "I'll visit you sometime soon, and I don't care for your answer. You'll come with me, Jonathan. It's the best choice."

"Why… do you think I… would go with… the likes of you?"

"Because I'll kill Alexander and Isabelle Lightwood if you don't."

Jace was shocked into silence. Valentine's stiff posture relaxed a fraction, knowing from the silence he had Jace in his palm.

"I'll see you soon, my son. At the moment, I need to make sure you don't follow me. Forgive me, son." Valentine summoned a demon- the same demon from before- and left the park. Jace wanted to follow, but the beast was already advancing. Its massive claw slammed Jace into a tree trunk, and swung back for seconds. It slashed his leg, only grazing it because Jace swiftly rolled sideways. He stood, feeling the heavy regret of not bringing any weapons, and lunged, slamming his leg into the beasts head. He had to jump high, because the best had to have been all of ten or fifteen feet tall with an ogre-like complexion. It had goo oozing from its pores and its eyes' irises were filled with –surprisingly enough- dead, weak demons. It was frightening enough to be fighting a new breed, but to have it look this gory was just cruel.

Jace, having gotten lost in his observation and mind-fogged by the concussion, was stricken back, slammed into the tree once more. He felt his consciousness slipping and thought shit. He knew, from many experiences, that falling asleep with a concussion was fatal. He might never wake up.

That was his last thought –last worry- before helplessly fading. The last thing he saw was the best staring happily at the beaten up Jace and hobbling away with an almost humane smugness.

Jace groaned again. He knew he should tell them. He knew he should warn them. But it was him Valentine wanted. Him Valentine had confronted. Him Valentine was willing to take the lives of two innocent teenagers for.

That was another thing. Valentine hadn't ever threatened to kill someone he loved. He'd offered Jace to come home, as any father coaxing an angry teen would. He'd promised to keep his friends and –kind of- family safe. Never ever had he swore to murder one of his loved. Jace growled suddenly, slamming his hand into the marble. He blinked and looked down. He'd left… a dent. A dent! Not even he thought he could dent marble. Shaking his blond fringe, he stood shakily. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling the tremor through his whole body.

"Jace!" He heard Alec, at the bottom of the stairs, calling up furiously. "JACE! Get down here, you idiot!"

Isabelle added her voice to the fume. "JACE WAYLAND! Get your ass down here, bastard!"

"Coming." Jace whispered, and then shook his head again. He took a deep breath and hoped his voice would sound at least a bit steady. "I'm coming! Quiet down, you're waking all of America!" It didn't sound steady at all.