I am so sorry this took so long. I had a MAJOR case of writer's block after I finished Clockwork Angel (which was awesome). I still am not quite happy with it, but you guys deserve another chapter, so here you go. Sorry if the characters are OOC. I really had difficulty with this chapter. . .

Chapter Four: Confusion

Simon stared at the phone sitting on the table before him. He hadn't moved for over forty-five minutes, and had the feeling he would be there for a lot longer. Though, on the outside he appeared to be a statue, inside, Simon was experiencing a hailstorm of confusion and indecision.

Isabelle had, once again, turned his world upside down and left him dangling from the edge.

He knew if he had any sort of courage at all, he would pick up the phone, and call her, demand to know what was going on. He knew if he was really brave, he would head straight to the Institute and wait outside until Izzy had to come out. And a large part of him wanted to. He needed answers that only Isabelle could give him. And maybe her answers could help him sort out his tangled emotions.

The only problem was, Simon wasn't feeling very brave.

How was it that he had faced a coven of angry vampires crying for his blood, let Clary put the mark of Cain on him knowing full well it could destroy his life, and enter into a massive battle against hordes of demons under the command of a man who wanted more than anything for Downworlders like him to become extinct, but he couldn't even pick up the phone and call Isabelle Lightwood.

He gripped his hair in his hands, gritting his teeth together.

Because she's a girl, that's why, he thought, somewhat savagely. Seriously, though. Was it their singular purpose to mess up as many guys lives as they could? Did Isabelle enjoy doing this to him? She had done the same thing in Alicante. They had spent a very, very long time in liplock, before Simon's logical side had reared up and broken it off so he could actually make her feel better. And they had connected. He had held her the entire night, whispering reassurances, telling her it wasn't her fault. But afterwards, in the days that followed - nothing. There was nothing. Sure, maybe she had flirted slightly at the celebration, but she had also drank way too much faerie beverages, and had ended up in the lap of some warlock who had pointy teeth and creepy green eyes. And now this.

He shook his head, rubbing a hand across his forehead. His fingers paused as they contacted the Mark of Cain. It wasn't that he could feel the mark; his skin was just as smooth there as on the rest of his forehead. But there was something when he passed his hand over it, a sort of - power that shot through him. It left him feeling slightly numb, and definitely wary.

So far, he hadn't felt anything from the mark. He had thought it would affect him as soon as he got home. He didn't exactly know what he had been expecting. Maybe a sudden compulsion that sent him wandering over the earth for the rest of his eternal life, as Cain had. Maybe, the voice of God commanding him that he should leave this life behind. But nothing of the sort had happened. It hadn't even twinged.

Did that comfort him any? No. It made him even more nervous, because he knew with his luck, if he thought for even a second, everything would be okay, it suddenly wouldn't be.

He was terrified he would have to leave New York and everything it held. He had never lived anywhere else. Most of his best and worst moments had played out in the city. Meeting Clary. Starting his band. The night he spent as a rat. Becoming a vampire. His life was written in the stone that made up New York's sidewalks, and he loved it. Ever since Valentine had slit Simon's throat and wrists, nearly ending his immortal life, he had taken a new perspective on life. He realized that, for all its flaws, he loved it, and he never wanted to let any part of it go. The thought of being forced to leave everything behind hurt him in unimaginable ways.

And he didn't even have the release of death.

"Not again," he muttered sourly, letting his hand drop to his knees. He was not getting caught up in thoughts of eternity today.

His phone buzzed, causing Simon's stomach to lurch in anticipation. His hand reached out faster than he thought possible, snagging the small device and nearly crushing it in his haste.

"Isabelle?" he couldn't help but ask as soon as his finger had hit the talk button.

There was a pause. "Uh, no, but I'd love to hear more about her."

Simon felt his shoulders slump as he recognized Eric's voice. He leaned against his chair, closing his eyes. "What is it, Eric?"

"You sound moody," Eric observed. There was a crash of a symbol that nearly deafened Simon, followed by a bout of laughter, and a muffled curse. "What the hell is wrong with you!" Eric shouted, and even though he was obviously covering the mouth piece, Simon had to hold the phone away. How he loved vampire hearing. "I'm on the phone, you idiot!"

"Hey, tell that jackass to get over here," Simon heard Matt shout.

"Matt says-,"

"Yeah, I heard," Simon snapped, gripping the edge of the table. "Is that why you called me?"

"Hey, hey," Eric said. "Whatcha talkin' like that for? I was just filled with concern for my dear friend. Is that not allowed these days?"

Simon didn't answer, idly tracing a pattern on the table with his pinkie.

"Seriously, though," Eric said after waiting for an answer for half a minute. "What's going on with you, man? You haven't shown up for school since Monday, and you've missed two band practices. You never miss band practices, and you especially never leave your brothers hanging with no phone call."

Simon felt a sharp pang of guilt as he thought back to all the text messages his fellow band members had sent that he had deleted with barely a glance at them. He realized he hadn't seen the guys in forever. Forever. He had been so caught up with Valentine, and demons, and the Shadow world that he had forgotten about his old world. A world he had loved just as much - wait, hold that thought, a world he had loved more than this one. He missed the days he had spent lounging in Eric's basement, fooling around, arguing over the hottest celebrities, and girls at school. It had been so normal, and safe without crazed killers, and complicating women, and vampires.

"I know," he heard himself saying. "I just- things have been kind of crazy in my life right now."

He hadn't gone to school from Monday to Wednesday because he had been too busy wallowing in a deep pool of self-pity and loneliness. He had come very close to eating icecream out of the bucket, and watching Titanic. He hadn't gone to school that morning, because he was too busy wallowing in a deep pool of confusion and Isabelle.

"Crazy," Eric repeated.

Simon heard him get up and close a door behind him. Hopefully he had just entered the storage room, or else Simon was talking to him while he was in the bathroom. He did not want to hear that.

"Crazy how? Wait, does this have anything to do with Clary?" he asked with exasperation. "Dude, I'm telling you, you gotta move on. You could have some seriously hot chicks if you let yourself." Eric paused for a few beats. "Hey, whatever happened to Clary anyway. I haven't seen her around either. Is everything okay?"

Simon had almost forgotten what a good friend Eric really was. Yeah, he could act like a total jerk, but in the end he was always there for you. And he did genuinely care, even if he was incapable of expressing it.

"She -um-." Simon hadn't even thought up an excuse for why Clary wasn't at school. What was she telling people? "She transferred to some private school." He was surprised at how easily the lie came.

"Private school." Eric snorted. "No kidding. So, what, she stop hanging out with you or something?"

The question hit Simon harder than he would have thought. That's exactly what had happened when she had started taking Shadowhunter lessons. She just didn't have time for him anymore, and yeah, he missed her. She was his best friend. Some part of him was still jealous about Jace's presence in her life. How was it that a boy she had hardly even met had dragged her away from Simon, the one who had known her and loved her since she was a little girl? What right did Jace have?

He ran his fingers through his untidy hair, holding back a resigned sigh. These thoughts didn't do anything for him. Jace was a part of Clary's life now, and judging by the way he looked at her, he wasn't leaving any time soon.

"It's not just Clary," Simon heard himself say in a slightly overwhelmed voice. "It's a lot of things."

Eric was quiet for a minute, save for the scuffing of a shoe against the floor beneath him. Once again, Simon sincerely hoped it was not the bathroom floor.

"Who's Isabelle?" Eric asked suddenly.

Simon blinked in surprise. "A girl I know," he replied lamely.

"Where'd you meet her?" Eric paused, and Simon could practically see him wiggling his eyebrows. "She hot?"

Simon felt a surprising wave of anger wash through him at the last question. He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself, relaxing his hand from the death grip it had on the table. "She's just a girl I know," he repeated in a mutter. "Why do you care?"

"'Cause you're my buddy, and if my buddy has a chance to hook up with a hot babe, I'm there to coach him through it."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Eric, only the stupidest man on this planet would listen to your advice on picking up women. And they would fail. Miserably."

"Hey, that is not-,"

But Simon didn't hear what is wasn't, because at that moment he heard a rap against the front door. He sighed, getting out of the chair. He was surprised by the stiffness in his joints as he walked to the front room. How long had he been sitting there?

The front room looked ghostly in the pale. The pictures on the mantle piece were drained of colour, leaving the grinning faces in them looking like corpses. He shivered, turning his back to them, and gently pushing aside a curtain to peer at the front door.

"Maia," he said aloud, interrupting the rant he had thrown Eric into. He was surprised by the amount of happiness her presence brought him. He had missed her.

"Wait, who's Maia?" Eric asked. "Who are all these girls?"

"I have to go," said Simon, quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"But-!"

Simon hung up on him, jogging to the front door and pulling it open. He felt a big, goofy grin plastered across his face as he saw the werewolf girl. She looked up at him with just as big a smile on her face, her pretty, dark eyes sparkling.

"Well, well," she said, placing her hands on her curvy hips. "Look who survived without me."

"Barely," Simon allowed, stepping back so she could come in. She sprung across the door, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. "When did you guys get back? I thought you were going to be gone a few more weeks at least."

She walked into the front room, her hands tapping against pockets in a steady rhythm. Simon felt himself freeze as he watched her eyes slowly look around the place. He couldn't help but conjure the image of Isabelle standing in that exact spot, doing the exact same thing. His stomach seemed to drop a few inches, but why, he wasn't sure. This wasn't Isabelle. Isabelle and Maia were as different as a walrus and a pigeon. Not that he was saying either one looked like either.

"We just got back last night," Maia answered his question, turning to look at him. She grinned. "You gonna close the door, or are you planning to freeze me to death. Not all of us are unaffected by the cold, vampire."

"Right," Simon muttered, swinging the door closed with more force than he intended, causing the walls to shake.

Maia laughed, rolling her eyes. "No need to show off, muscle man."

The corner of Simon's mouth quirked into a grin.

Maia walked over to the couch, and collapsed into its cushions, kicking her feet up as if she had lived there her whole life. Her eyes never left Simon as he took a seat on one of the armchairs by the front window.

"It's really good to see you, Maia," he said, after settling himself. And it was. He was surprised by the amount of pleasure her being there brought. He had hardly seen anyone since his return from Alicante, except for Izzy. And her visit hadn't done anything to bring down his stress levels. But Maia definitely wasn't Isabelle.

She grinned, her eyes glinting. "Don't be getting all mushy on me, Vampire, or I'm heading back out that door." But he could tell from her smile that his words had made her happy.

"I'll try to contain myself," Simon retorted sarcastically, absently picking at a string on one of the cushions. His eyes flicked back to hers. "So, I guess Luke found a decent replacement, since you're back."

She shrugged. "Yeah, some Russian wolf. He seemed decent. I hung out with one of his pack members a lot, Joseph." She grinned to herself, smoothing out a wrinkle in her jeans.

A rush of jealously poured through Simon, causing him to yank the string right out of the cushion. He didn't like Joseph.

"So, everything went smoothly?" Simon asked, trying hard to control his voice.

She glanced at him, her brow wrinkling in confusion, and he knew he hadn't done a very good job. He thought he saw a sparkle of pleasure light her eyes before it faded into an expression of worry.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Maia?"

She took a large breath, clasping her hands together. "Not everything went so smoothly."

"What do-,"

"The Gard was infiltrated," Maia spoke over him as if he hadn't even opened his mouth. She looked away, her braids swishing. "No one knows how it could have happened. The Shadowhunters were on such high alert. And I mean high alert. You couldn't chew a stick of gum without raising suspicion." She fell quiet, a shadow of worry highlighting her face.

"What do you mean by infiltrated?" A bad feeling was growing in the pit of the vampire's stomach. It was the same bad feeling he had experienced upon waking up in the bottom of Valentine's boat.

"It had to be someone in the Gard," Maia said, her dark eyes wide as she stared into the distance. "No one else could have done it."

"Done what!" Simon asked, his voice growing in panic.

Maia seemed to shake herself. Her eyes focused back on him, and it seemed like all the blood had drained from her face. "Someone murdered a Shadowhunter guard. They used his blood to write a message on one of the Gard's walls. 'Valentine's will shall be done'."

"Oh Go-," Simon choked, his face twisting in pain.

"Simon?" Maia looked slightly alarmed, half rising from her seat.

Simon waved for her to sit back down, swallowing down the rage that consumed him every time a sentence was stolen from him.

"I thought it was over," he growled when he had recovered.

"Me too." Maia's voice was very quiet as she looked down at her knees. "So many people already died. Shadowhunters, Downworlders. . . We almost died, Simon. More than once." She suddenly seemed to realize what she was saying, and rearranged her face back into one of practised toughness.

Simon couldn't come up with a response. It was so true. He had seen complete strangers' lives ripped away from them, had seen children orphaned, had felt cold metal pass through his own skin and his lifeblood drain away, staining the ground below him - all in the name of one brilliant and psychotic man named Valentine. It should have ended when Raziel sent Valentine to Hell.

"Who?" he managed to ask.

Maia shrugged her shoulders. "A few names have floated around, along with just about a million rumours." She snorted, tossing a braid over her shoulder. "Some people are even going as far as to say that Valentine isn't dead. I mean they watched his corpse burn, and yet they still are willing to believe he's alive." She shook her head in disgust.

Simon already knew the other name that people would be whispering. In his mind he saw the face of dark haired boy sitting in the Penhallow's living room, smiling, laughing. Jonathan Morgenstern.

Luckily, Jace made sure he'd never be able to do it again, Simon thought firmly. The guy got stabbed in the heart. He's gone.

A sudden panicked thought broke through Simon's ponderings. He stood up, his hand darting into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

"Maia, does Isabelle know what happened?" Simon's voice came out so fast that it sounded like one long slur.

Maia frowned, taking a second to sort out the question before answering. "Not that I know of. Unless her parents have told her. They're the only ones Luke told, them and Jocelyn."

Simon didn't relax any. The Lightwoods always had ways of finding out what they weren't supposed to know. Magnus must have heard, and that meant Alec had heard, and that meant both Jace and Isabelle would know. He knew that Isabelle would instantly think of Sebastian, Jonathan, whatever. He knew she would do something rash, something very Isabelle.

That night he had spent with her in Alicante, she had sworn she would murder Sebastian. She had looked up at him through the cocoon of his arms, crystal teardrops hanging from her eyelashes as her eyes lit with a savage, feral light, and she had told him that no matter what it took, she was going to put a knife right through the bastard's heart that had taken Max away from her forever.

"What I don't get-," Maia's voice interrupted his reeling train of thought, "- is what the message means. Which part of Valentine's will do they want to fulfill? The destroying all Downworlders part, or the destroying the Clave part."

She had a good point. Though Valentine had only really had one giant plan, there were two separate goals he wanted to accomplish. So, which had been more important to him? Destroying the Clave, or destroying the Downworlders? But things had changed since the battle in Alicante. The Clave was no longer solely made of Shadowhunters.

"Those two things are tangled now," he said, rubbing a finger over the keypad of his cell phone. He needed to call Isabelle. He needed to make sure that she was fine, and wasn't planning anything rash.

"I guess so," Maia answered.

Simon kept on forgetting that he was engaged in a conversation with Maia. His thoughts were almost solely resting on Isabelle now.

"I'm really sorry, Maia," Simon apologized, turning to the werewolf girl. "But I need some time to think. Maybe I should call Clary."

"No!" Maia sat up, shaking her head fiercely. "Luke made me promise that I wouldn't tell any of you. You can't tell Clary. I could get thrown out of the pack for disobeying Luke."

Simon frowned, confused. "Why did you tell me then?"

Maia sighed loudly, looking exasperated. She stood up, and walked over to him, shaking her head the entire time. He looked down at her. She was a full head shorter than him, but she never seemed it. Something about her filled the room. She had presence. Maybe it was her eyes; they spoke of a world of experiences that Simon couldn't even begin to guess at.

"Maybe I shouldn't have," she answered his question. She smirked. "But I'm always doing stupid stuff around you."

Simon blinked, thinking he should probably take a step backwards, but he was frozen in place. "I haven't noticed," he said, slightly stiffly.

She crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows. A tension filled silence fell between them. Her eyes weren't leaving his. The moment was dragging out too long, but he couldn't find any words to end it. Was she waiting for him to do something? Was he waiting for her to do something? What did he want her to do?

Maia tore her eyes away, shattering the moment into a thousand tiny pieces. "I'm going to go now before I do something else stupid." Her eyes flicked back to his, and they held a lot of implications.

Simon swallowed, nodding his head.

He trailed behind her as she walked to the door. Was it just him or was she swaying her hips a lot more than normal?

Why are you even noticing you creep?

A cool breeze swept through the room as she opened the door, catching Simon's shirt, and bringing the smell of the river into his living room. Maia breathed in deeply on his doorstep, briefly closing her eyes.

"It's good to be home," she murmured, a smile gracing her full lips. She opened her eyes, letting them land on Simon. "I'll see you later, Vampire."

She started walked down his lane, but stopped, turning around. An evil grin had replaced the angelic smile. "If you tell anyone what I told you, I'll kill you."

He had to laugh. "You can try, Maia. But with these vampire reflexes, I'm deadlier than a ninja." Maia shook her head, walking away. He thought he caught her murmur something akin to, "Why is he such a nerd?"

He grinned down at his shoes, but as soon as he shut the door, his grin faded into an expression of true confusion. He had come this close to kissing her. Maybe he had been too dumb to realize it when it was happening, but he had. He had wanted to kiss her, and he was pretty sure she had been waiting for him to.

"Ahh," he groaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. His cat wandered up beside him, sitting down and staring at him with hostile eyes. She looked like she was ready to attack him if he made even the slightest movement, but since she was his only companion, he decided to ask it the question running through his mind. "Why is my life so damn confusing?"

Her only answer was a hiss.

Okay, that's that. Please review with any opinions, or helpful suggestions, constructive criticism, you know, all those good things. I really appreciate it!