This chapter is a touch short, yes, and it's a bit of a teaser (you'll see why)! I'm trying to figure out just where I want this to go. I have an idea but... we'll see! Anywho, please review! And I hope you like it!

"Wayland?" I echoed, unable to really understand the word.

"There must have been one boy and one girl." Jace's voice sounded far away. "You must have a brother."

I stared at him. "'Separated irrevocably.'"

Jace's expression looked wary, as though he were afraid that I was a second away from a killing rampage. "Jaci…"

"He killed my family," I whispered, turning my attention to the poor imprisoned angel. "Didn't he?"

Ithuriel bowed his head slowly, all the confirmation I needed.

A surge of rage and a rush of words. The words felt hot in my throat and I knew I was speaking in Seraphtongue but I didn't consciously register just what I was saying.

As I spoke, the runes of imprisonment carved into the floor began to glow like irons left in the fire. Soon they began to appear blurred before disappearing altogether. Words were still rushing out, burning my throat, making me ears ring. There was nothing but Ithuriel and me. Was I setting the angel free or allowing him to die? Was there any difference?

Unbidden, memories of his encounter with Agramon, the demon of fear, flooded Jace's mind. As he stood in the basement of the Wayland estate, well, dungeon really, he was reminded of the stairway of Valentine's ship. Agramon had impersonated Jaci – a dying Jaci.

Clearly she was alive beside him but the air was cold and filled with the hum of magic, just as it had been that night only weeks ago.

She swayed dangerously. Jace reached out for her, afraid to touch her but unable to let her fall. Jaci felt too light in his arms. It was almost as if part of her was already –

No! Jace shook his head violently to physically clear away that train of thought. Jaci was completely fine, more or less. There was no use dwelling on fear when reality offered enough challenges as it was.

"Jaci," he said softly, giving her shoulder a gentle shake.

To his immense relief, her eyelids fluttered open and her hazel eyes gazed serenely up at him. "Jace."

He assisted her to a sitting position. "Are you all right?"

She brushed him aside, getting to her feet on her own. "I'm fine. Where's Ithuriel?"

For the first time, Jace noticed that the angel had somehow vanished. "Gone," he said with a shrug. Ithuriel was low on his priority list at the moment, Jaci's health was his main concern.

"But the house isn't collapsing," she pointed out, back to her mission.

"I suppose," he began, "that you didn't kill him and since you obliterated the runes, the part about the house being destroyed is also gone."

"Good." Her voice was crisp, businesslike. "We'll need a sort of basecamp. This will work well."

She had a very good point, he had to admit to himself. With the shielding wards on the house, the Clave wouldn't be able to find them. But Valentine would.

"No, it won't. Valentine can still find this place and I think he'll come looking here eventually. Sebastian will know we're both missing and report to Valentine, figuring that we're together. It's only a matter of time before Valentine finds us here."

He could tell from her slight pout that she knew he was right. Despite the fact that he was still cautious about her reaction to Ithuriel's revelations, he couldn't help smiling. An angry Jaci was a very adorable Jaci.

"Well, he won't come looking for us immediately," she declared at length. "Plus it's getting late. We're staying here tonight; it's a better choice than out in the open."

Before Jace could open his mouth to argue, she had marched off through the dungeon towards the stairs. What was it about her stubbornness that was so endearing? And, he wondered, would it still be endearing if that same stubbornness led them to their deaths?

The house was very quiet and not for the first time Isabelle found herself missing the sounds of New York. There, sound had signified that all was right with the world. Silence meant approaching demons, approaching death. Here in Alicante, quiet was the norm. She didn't like it.

Not to mention Jace's letter had her completely on edge. Jaci arrested? Escaped? On the run? What a shocker.

"Anything?" she snapped at her brother.

Alec shook his head. "The tracking rune isn't working. I can't find them."

"Then we stop waiting and head to the Wayland estate to meet them."

"Maybe," Alec hedged. "But I think I remember Jace mentioning misdirection wards. I don't think we'd be able to find it."

Isabelle was fuming. "So what do we do? Sit here helpless? Valentine's going to figure out Jaci still has the sword-"

"Had," Alec interrupted. "Jaci had the sword."

"But Valentine won't know it's past tense! He's going to go after her! I can't just wait while he hunts her! And Jace! They're our parabatai, Alec! We can't leave them!"

Alec frowned at her. "We aren't going to just leave them. We're going to come up with a plan that makes the most sense all around as soon as you calm down."

She snapped her mouth shut and folded her hands demurely in her lap. "I'm calm. Let's plan."

"Are you sure about this?" Jace asked, staring at the dusty but comfortable looking bed. "Shouldn't one of us keep watch?"

Jaci's eyes flashed as she shook out a slightly moth eaten blanket. "I'm certain. There are enough wards to protect us. Plus," she nodded towards the bedroom door, "I put a spell on the door. Nothing is going to surprise us."

Jace relented and went about the process of peeling off his rather dusty boots and finding ideal places for his weapons around the bed. They were staying in one of the mansion's guest bedrooms. It hadn't seemed right to Jace to take the Wayland's former room nor the one he'd grown up in or Valentine's chamber. They seemed haunted by ghosts, or memories. Was there really any difference? At least in the guest room the ghosts were impersonal and therefore less painful.

It worried him that Jaci was so quiet. She'd spoken only when necessary, ignoring his teasing and focusing so much that it was nearly frightening. She reminded him of a predator, preparing for the kill.

He paused for a minute to watch her as she carefully and deftly undid her braid, letting her glossy tresses fall free. The witchlight reflected ethereally off the waves and something about her appearance seemed so distant to him. Apparently satisfied with the reckless abandon her hair had taken on, she peeled off her outer layers, going so far as to remove most of her gear until she was left standing in only her underwear and a loose t-shirt. Jace felt a tug in his abdomen. Disheveled and dirty, Jaci was completely breathtaking. He wanted to explore every inch of her, doing whatever he could to prove to her how much she meant to him. He wanted to run his hands through that hair and to wake up tangled in her embrace. He wanted her to want the same things.

But, he turned resolutely away, he did not want to pressure her. So, instead, he kept his back to her as she crawled under the covers and doused the witchlight. Slowly, he swung his legs up on the bed and laid back, prepared to sleep off these overwhelming longings and emotions. So worried about his, ahem, enthusiasm making Jaci uncomfortable, Jace shied away from her touch and by sheer determination, drifted off to sleep still with his back to her.

Choose your own adventure! What would you like to see happen next?