So just saw the trailer for Shadowhunters Season 2! What do you all think? I see that they haven't gotten rid of Jace's ridiculous haircut, but that's just one girl's opinion. And let's all take a moment to thank the stars that Clary's hair isn't ridiculously curled. Anyway, here's the next installment in this story! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10

"Clary? Clary?" an out-of-breath Simon yelled, coming up the stairs. He turned the corner and stopped short, staring at Jace and me locked in an embrace. I suddenly felt embarrassed by my compromising position. I quickly pushed Jace away. He looked shocked at first, and his arms hovered around invisible air. But he composed himself and shoved his fists in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face.

What Simon was going to say, I'm not sure. Instead, he asked, "What's going on here?"

"Uh, we were just..." I glanced helplessly at Jace. His lips curled into a smirk, as he watched me flail for an answer. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Two guys broke into my apartment."

Jace's smirk dropped.

"What?" Simon and Jace said at the exact time. They quickly glanced at each other and then back at me.

"Did you see their faces?" Simon asked, stepping closer.

"No," I started to say.

"Does this mean I'm in the clear?" Jace asked, interrupting me.

Now it was my turn to ask "what." Jace gave a slight shrug, his hands still in his pockets.

"Well the police couldn't figure out if the attacker was after you or me. And will this... this kinda proves they're after you."

"And how does it prove that?" I asked, shocked. My stomach twisted. I had protection and a place to live because Jace's family believed the attack was after him. If this proved that I was the original victim, I'd be alone in this whole ordeal.

Jace scoffed. "Come on, you don't see anyone trying to break into the Lightwood Manor."

I folded my arms and rolled my eyes. "Yeah they only broke into Idris. Whose hotel is that again? Oh right! Yours."

Jace met my defensive stance.

"A hotel is different than an apartment."

"What a line of logic," I said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean! If they were targeting me, they wouldn't have come to your apartment."

"Maybe they thought you'd be there," I challenged.

"As if," he sneered. I ignored the way his vehement denial pierced me.

"That's enough," Simon said, interrupting. It was probably a good thing because I was after blood. "These are questions for the police, i.e. me should be asking." Jace and I continued to glare at each other. "Clary, did you notice anything about the men?"

I tore my gaze from Jace's piercing golden eyes and looked at Simon. He had a familiar look of determination in his eyes. He had the same look when he was making the key in our competition. It also reminded me of how much he was putting on the line to help me out. I immediately felt guilty.

"Sorry, Simon. Uh... they said something about having enough for their boss? I'm not really sure. It all happened so quickly." I let out an involuntary shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself and couldn't help but notice how warmer it was in Jace's embrace. Simon put a hand on my arm.

"We'll find them, Clary." He said it with so much confidence that I didn't doubt he believed it. However, I had my own doubts. Valentine's corporation wasn't going to be taken down by a junior detective.

After putting on latex gloves, Simon carefully inspected the door. "No sign of forced entry." He tried the knob. It was unlocked. "Either they used a lock pick or they have a copy of your key. We'll take a look inside and get an inventory of anything missing. Maybe we can get an idea what they wanted this 'boss' to know."

I cringed. Both options made me want to vomit. These men violated the safe space I've had for years. And even though Simon didn't say it, I could tell what he was thinking. If Valentine wanted to know this is where I was living, he'd send people to find evidence.

"Okay, Kindergarten Cop. When are the real police coming?" Jace asked with some asperity.

"Well, since any of this getting out will affect you getting your precious inheritance, we've had to limit the number of people involved. So like it or not, you're stuck with me." Simon snapped.

I was surprised at Simon's hostility. Usually, he was more reserved.

"Fine if you want to play detective go ahead. But, I'm out of here," Jace said.

"No one's stopping you," Simon responded, with a tight smile.

Jace shot me a look as if he wanted me to say something. I had Simon. I didn't need Jace. Or that's at least what I tried to tell myself. But as soon as he started to walk away, I couldn't help the words that came out of my mouth.

"Don't you need protection? Those goons could be heading to your place as we speak."

Jace turned back around. A look of surprise crossed his face, before his expression settled into smugness.

"It doesn't seem like I'm the one who needs protection," he said, as he nodded to my apartment door.

"She's right," Simon said, as he sighed in resignation. My words weren't meant to scare Jace. They were meant to remind Simon of his duty to protect. "You can't leave without a security detail."

Jace let out a noise of indignation. "Fine. I'll call mine right now."

"Then Hodge will know you left home without one. Bet he wouldn't like that," I said, a smile forming on my face. We got him. He couldn't leave without fear of being exposed to Hodge and Mayrse.

Instead of being upset, he simply smiled. "If you wanted me around so bad, Ginger, you could've just asked." Before I could respond, he sauntered past me, brushing against my shoulder, and headed through the open door. I ignored the way a current shot down my arm and followed him. Simon came in last, clearly annoyed by the outcome of the situation.

I was first met with the familiar smell of eucalyptus and vanilla. The living room was covered with candles. It had started out as an anxiety reducer, but then turned into an art experiment. I melted candles into certain shapes. I glanced over at Jace who was studying an angel I had made out of melted wax. I watched as he took out a lighter and lit the wick. He observed the way the wax slipped down the candle like angel tears. He met my gaze and held it. I felt drawn to Jace at that moment. I saw in his eyes that he knew what my art was about. He understood. He, like me, had felt desolate. He knew that desperate feeling of loss.

"Is anything missing, Clary?" Simon asked. I tore my gaze from Jace, who in return blew out the candle and that moment of connection.

"Um..." I stalled for a moment, as my heart rate slowed down. I was too distracted by the pain in Jace's expression as he watched the wax drip down the angel. What had he lost? What was the cause of his pain?

"Clary?" Simon promoted me from my reverie.

I looked around. Everything seemed to be in place: the purple duvet draped against the soft leather couch, my un-made queen bed that was against the exposed brick, and, most importantly, my mom's artwork that hung all over the apartment (the one thing I thought Valentine would be sadistic enough to take).

"I don't think so?" I said. Even the box of records I owned (which Jace was ruffling through) hadn't been touched. "What did they want?"

Simon walked to my "bedroom" portion of the studio apartment. He looked at the collage of photos I had hanging like clothes across a line above my bed. They were all photos I had taken in my hipster-photographer phase. A lot were of Simon doing funny things like having a rootbeer float mustache or wearing a Dracula costume. Some were of things I found beautiful and intriguing like vines growing on urban buildings or pigeons stealing fries. And my favorite: pictures of my mom when she was healthy and when she was sick. Some of those pictures were cut at odd angles to remove the parasitical Valentine. But the one picture Simon kept staring at wasn't a member of any of those categories. And when I saw the picture, I gasped in surprise. And unfortunately, that alerted Jace to what was going on. He immediately came to Simon's side.

"Wow, Ginger, I didn't know you were this big of fan." He smirked as he looked at the picture of himself that hung between one of Simon shaking maracas and one of my mom with paint-covered hands.

I had forgotten about the picture, but as soon as I saw it I remembered why I fell in love with it in the first place. A paparazzi must have caught the picture, but it was of Jace waving down a taxi. It had appeared in some magazine that I forgot the name of. But when I first saw the picture, I remembered being obsessed with it. And not just because the subject was the famous heartthrob, Jace Wayland. But because of the expression Jace wore in it. He was smiling—and not the smile that caused girls to melt. But a real smile. There was this kind of happiness that radiated from him, and I knew I had to have it (it was during the time when I was afraid to leave my apartment). Because every time I saw it, it would remind me that the level of happiness was attainable. Here was this boy, who while doing something mundane, had achieved the level of ecstasy that usually only drugs could bring you to. And I knew that even in my darkest moments, I could at least be reminded of the chance of that kind of happiness.

But instead of elaborating on that, I grabbed to photo and shoved it into my bag.

"I just liked the way the light refracted across your face," I lied, hoping I wasn't red as a tomato.

"Sure, Ginger." Jace had a wide grin across his face. But it couldn't hold a flame to the smile in my bag.

Simon's mood was even more glum than before.

"So is there anything actually missing? Or was this all for nothing?"

His words twisted in my stomach. I didn't want Simon to be wasting his time. And unfortunately that promoted me to realize what was missing.

"There's a picture of Jace that's missing."

Oooh so maybe we don't know who's the original victim after all? What do you guys think of Simon? What do you think of Jace? Review because I love to hear what readers' think!