Hey guys- both newbies to the story and followers from the start....and we can't forget you in-betweeners. :) Been caught up with school but I am finally updating. Yay! Just a quick note also- If you don't get why there is such an aversion and dirty look upon the Downworlders from Jace and Clary, it's just cause of the attitude, moral and values they were brought up with.

Disclaimer- Do I have to say what has already been said a milliion times before?

Previously...*cue the dry ice smoke*

Clary and Isabelle are called down to the Hunter's Moon, where Jace and Alec have met up with a foreign wolf pack.

The front wolf turned its great ochre head and nodded to the chocolate wolf directly to his right. It took a step forward to phase.

Within moments, a boy as tall as Alec with silky brown hair and brown, caring eyes stood before them. Clary's mouth fell open.

"Zac?"

And on with the story.

"Clary," Zac said, with a sigh of relief. He started towards her but Jace cut him off.

"Who are you?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Zac Darklight and you, I presume, are Jace Wayland," Zac said, a smug look plastered all over his face. Jace, looking obviously confused, took out a dagger and held it to Zac's throat. The tawny wolf at the front growled with distaste.

"How do you know who we are?" he said.

Zac smiled. "Clary and I are, uh, well acquainted you could say, hey Clary?"

Jace's brotherly protection kicked in. "Don't you dare talk to her, dog!"

This comment brought the pack into an uproar. Even Isabelle had a look of shock upon her face. Clary guessed that they weren't used to this kind of attitude towards the Downworlders. They were obviously deluded of how filthy these half-breeds were. But this was Zac and he was a... different case.

"Jace, it's okay," she said softly, stepping beside her brother. She placed her hand slowly over Jace's holding the dagger to Zac's throat, and persuaded his arm to relinquish. A slight trickle of blood had run down Zac's throat, staining the blade of the silvery knife.

"What are you doing here Zac?" she hissed softly, not a foot away from him.

"I came for you," he whispered. Clary's stern look melted. He raised a hand to touch her cheek but her lightning reflexes stopped him before he could.

"Don't," she said, her fingers tightening around his wrist. A confused expression crossed his face.

"What's wrong Clary?" he asked, clearly not remembering her family's aversion to Downworlders. Hadn't he just seen Jace's reaction just to Zac knowing his and Clary's name?

"You have to leave. Now," she said back, keeping her mouth in a stiff line. "I can't go back to Idris."

"Why not?" he murmured, shuffling forward slightly. Clary conscious of other watching on, took a step back.

"Because, I don't want to go back there. I have a new regime in life now, and you have no part in it," she said harshly, stepping back to Jace. Taking that as the sign that their conversation was over, Jace stepped between them.

"You don't belong here," he said in a low voice, "Go back home if you know what's good for you."

The leader of the pack snarled. Zac shot him a glance, frowning.

"Elijah says that you have no right to tell us what to do, demon hunter," Zac spat at Jace. At this, Alec stepped forward.

"Your business here is done," Alec said, "Go before we make you."

The pack growled in unison while Zac shook his head.

"Fine, we'll go quietly now. But don't expect our peace to last," he said.

"Zac-" Clary started towards him, but he turned quickly and phased, joining the rest of the pack. The circling crowd made way for the exiting pack of foreign werewolves. As eager as they were for a fight, they weren't about to get in their way.

Zac's dark brown head turned back to give a sympathetic eyed glance to Clary once more, and then he was gone. The pack had run off into the shadows embracing the end of the street.

She sighed. She hadn't expected this to happen.

Jace grabbed my forearm before I could hide.

"What the hell was that about?" He said, menacingly.

"Let go of me Jace!" she said, trying to wiggle out of his grip. But his handhold stayed firm.

"Tell me how you know him first! Father would be furious knowing you had just talked to one!"

"It was nothing! I only talked to him once back home. Now let me GO!" She shouted.

"Jace, let her go," Alec said. Isabelle came up behind Clary and put a hand on her shoulder. Finally Jace let out a sigh and let Clary's wrist go, looking ashamed as he saw the red marks his grip had left on his sister's arm.

"Clary..."he began softly, but he couldn't seem to continue as he saw her backing away slightly, a nervous and pained look in her eyes. Clary knew what he was like when he got angry and it was best she got out of his way.

"Jace, don't. I'll explain everything later, I promise. Right now, I just need to sort myself out," Clary said, slightly whispering. Isabelle seemed to know what was going on and slung her arm around the girl's shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Let's just get home," Isabelle said.

*****

"Anya!" Tatiana's voice was getting closer by the minute so she huddled up against the cold window where she was hidden by the curtain. Olga, Tatiana, Maria and Alexei had been looking for her for most of the night now only on their mother's orders. They probably wanted to go back to the dance.

"Where is she?" A loud voice could be heard over her siblings' calling for her to come out of her hiding spot. But being the stubborn thirteen year old she was, she was not about to give herself away- not even for her father.

She waited until the voices had faded into the distance hum of the crowd in the great hall. She peeked out from behind the tick velvet curtain, and upon checking that the coast was clear, darted quickly up the hall for her room.

Fiddle sticks! She thought, as the layers of the dress she wore kept dragging on the ground, making more noise than intended. She hitched the dress up, bunching the heavy layers in her hands and continued running. Her dark red ringlets bounced against her bare shoulders and her long, unconnected sleeves blew behind her as she ran down the hall.

She flashed a quick look behind her as she rounded the next hall, but before she could look back to the front, she toppled right into a boy, whose face was hidden by an abnormal sized pile of washing. They fell to the floor, the boy beneath her and the towels and such scattered around them, one falling onto her head, knocking her tiara to the floor.

The boy looked around clearly startled; he looked even more shocked when he saw who was on top of him.

"P-P-Princess, I'm so sorry! I didn't realise-"

She cut him off with a shush. "They'll hear you if you keep stammering your apologies so loud."

"Sorry Princess," he said, lowering his gaze.

"Puh-lease," she said, rolling her eyes and flicking the towel off her head, "Call me Anastasia. And seeming I'm on top of you, you better tell me who you are."

The boy smirked, his brown eyes full of humour, "Dimitri."

Anastasia rolled off the boy and onto her stomach beside him. "I'm gussing you're one of the kitchen boys then?"

"Yeah, I was running an errand for the head maid when you ran into me."

Anya's stubbornness kicked in again. "Did not. You weren't watching where you were going."

"I had a giant pile of washing in front of my face, what was your excuse?"

"Uh I was distracted."

Dimitri sat up. "Why were you running in the first place?"

"I didn't want to go the ball tonight so I've been hiding all night."

Realisation dawned on him. "Oh so you were running away from your brother and sisters. "

She nodded. "Yup. I just didn't feel like going tonight."

"Is it because that prince from France is here?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Possibly."

Dimitri smiled, obviously delighted to be getting along the Grand Duchess of Russia. He looked around at the mess of towels and mats. "This is going to take ages to fold again."

"I'll help," Anya said, "It was kinda my fault anyway that they're like this."

Dimitri smiled as she pulled the towel closest to her into her lap and began to fold. He shook his head, as if to break out of a trance of staring, and began to fold as well. Within ten minutes, the washing had been folded and stacked in a pile in front of the two young teenagers.

"Thanks for your help," Dimitri said, giving Anastasia a small smile.

"No worries. Now I really gotta get going before someone catches me," she said, standing up and bunching up her skirts again. "See you round, Dimitri."

She started to run down the hall but Dimitri called out her name before she could round the next corner.

"What now?" She asked.

He ran up to her holding something between her hands. Of course! She had forgotten her tiara had fallen off and she'd left it on the floor where she had fallen.

"May I?" Dimitri said. Anya took the hint and bowed her head slightly, so that he could slip the tiara into her hair once more. His fingers brushed her face as her withdrew his hand from her hair; they were warm and sent tingles down her spine. She could feel a faint blush on her cheeks coming on.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem," he replied quietly, looking at the ground.

"Night Dimtri."

"Your Highness," he said. And I turned and skipped down the hall once more. Only this time she wasn't so lucky at evading her family.

"Anastasia! There you are!" Her father said loudly from the other end of the hall.

Anya let out a sigh. She had almost made it. She walked toward her father in the graceful manner she only used when she was being watched by criticising eyes.

"Father," she said, smiling falsely.

"Nastya, you should be out there with us, not heading back to your bookshelf or your plans to make trouble," he said with only that gentleness that a daughter could bring out of her father.

"But Dad-"

"No buts! You're coming with me. I want a dance with my beautiful, stubborn daughter."

She smiled. "Fine," she said, as Nicholas led her out to the ball room. Anya looked around at the many swirling colours of the women's gowns, the light reflecting off their jewels and patterns. Her father twirled her into the crowd with ease and soon her dress was gracefully spinning off the ground like the women's around her. When their eyes caught hers however, they looked pointedly at the ground.

As much as it was a sign of respect, Anya didn't like it. But this was a part of her life and she let the irritation go. It suddenly reminded her of Dimitri and she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

*****

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Clary sat up in bad and ran a hand through her hand. What was with these dreams that plagued her with Russian royalty? She looked out the window, only to see it was still night time. Groaning, she flopped back onto her pillow, hoping that sleep might befall her once again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Must be raining, she thought as she rolled over, restlessly.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. CRACK.

Clary sat up again and looked at the window. That was defiantly not rain because rain did not break windows. She threw off the covers and crept to the window; her pyjama pants brushing against the carpet was the only sound in the silent room. She traced the crack in the glass with her finger. What would have caused such a crack as this? She soon found out as another wave of taps hit the window.

Someone was throwing stones at her window.

Clary slid the window open after the shower of rocks had finished pelting against the glass and stuck her head out the outside. The cool night air whipped through her hair as she looked down to the pavement a few stories below her. A dark figure stood at the entrance gate to the Institute, their hand raised ready to let another shower of stones loose.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing!?" Clary hissed.

The figure lowered its hand and the sound of rocks hitting the concrete floated up to Clary's ears.

"Who are you?" She hissed again, demanding to know who woke her up in the early hours of the morning. The lights of the city still gleamed brightly considering the time though.

"Clary, it's me," a male voice barely whispered. But Clary knew who it was before her extra sensory hearing picked up his voice.

"Zac, please, just leave me alone okay?" She went to shut the window, but he started whispering again.

"Look, that wasn't me this afternoon. Elijah was there and he was pressuring me-"

Clary raised an eyebrow that he couldn't see, "Elijah?"

Zac swallowed. "Look he was just trying to help you and your brother-"

"We don't need your help. We are fine here by ourselves."

"But we came to bring you home."

"And you served as an expected reminder of what I wanted to forget."

There was an audible pause before he continued. "You wanted to forget me?"

Clary sighed. This wasn't a subject she really wanted to approach. "Look, Zac, I like you and everything but-"

"But what?"

"I can't deal with the commitment right now. Plus do you know how my brother would react if he knew?"

"Come with me."

Clary smacked her forehead with her palm. "Didn't I just say I wasn't going home?"

"No, I mean, do you want to go out with me?"

Clary's jaw dropped but he picked up the innuendo before she could say anything.

"No I don't mean like that, like girlfriend boyfriend stuff. I mean like do you want to come out tonight with me? I want to show you something," he said. Clary could just imagine him standing with his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels.

She sighed again. What was the harm in going out one last time with Zac? Anyway, she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now.

"Fine, I'll come." But then a thought struck her. "I can't get out though- the elevator will wake everyone up."

"Jump," he said, unperturbed.

"Are you crazy?" Clary hissed gripping the window sill.

"I'll catch you, I promise," Zac said, calmly.

Clary gritted her teeth. "Let me think that crazy stunt over as I get dressed."

"I'll be waiting," came the reply.

Clary turned away from the window and quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and a hoodie over her singlet she had slept in and made her way back over to the window. She looked down and gulped. It was a lot further after he had asked her to jump.

"Ready?" Zac said, standing under her window, three stories below.

"What the hell, I'm coming," Clary said. And she launched herself out the window into the cold night air. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see her oncoming death. She waited for the crack of pain to shoot up her body and for her vision to go black- but it never came. She only felt a slight scooping motion and a gentle thud as Zac's feet hit the ground.

Clary hesitantly opened one eye and saw Zac's ears retracting. "Is it over?" She asked.

He nodded and set her down on her feet. Clary looked up from where she had come. She felt proud; she had jumped from there without killing herself and with only minimal help on the landing. Her expression fell as an obvious thought popped into her head.

"Great," she muttered.

"What?" Zac said, looking around the grounds, nervously.

Clary pointed back up to her window.

"How am I going to get back in, genius?"

Like where it's going? Love it? Or just generally hate all thats good and pure in the world? Lemme know by review. Even if you love to hate the world and all its sugariness, I'd love to hear from you. Maybe I could arrange help. :) lol. You know I think you guys are awesome right?! Tata for now! B.