Author's Note: Hey, y'all! This chapter is a little bit darker than usual, though not much. To me, it's not bad at all, not even a little, because I know it's not real, it's just a story I've written, but I know some people are more easily disturbed so... Just a tiny warning! (: Please review, y'all!(:

Chapter Twelve

Everything is sharper than it has been in years.

Each drop of rain that spatters down from the dark clouds is beautiful, crystal clear. I smell the damp in the air, feel the cool water on my skin. I'm amazed by the lights of the city, the darkness of the sky, the old architecture of the buildings. Everything feels so new, so vibrant, I almost forget that Jace has a death grip on my arm as he pulls me down the streets.

Jace leads me to a museum, a great big hulking building that brims with majesty and old knowledge. We walk up the steps, and I see the hours of operation.

Confused, I say, "It's closed."

Jace gives me a dull look before knocking on one of the many tall glass doors. "No shit."

I ignore him, tilting my head back so that I can see the dizzyingly high ceiling above us, supported by thick grey columns. I'm in awe of everything because I see everything.

The door opens suddenly, and Jace is walking inside, yanking me along with him like a limp noodle.

I had thought the outside of the museum was stunning, but it is nothing compared to the interior. Despite most of the lights being off, despite the skylights above being blotted out by the night, it is breathtaking. High ceilings, shiny floors, beautiful architecture, history oozing out of each glass display.

I try to take it all in, and the task is too gargantuan to accomplish.

I'm dizzy.

"Jonathan?" a shaky, raspy voice enquires, awe in every quiver of his voice.

Jace and I both turn to see a thin rail of a man appearing from the shadows. He is in all black, but his skin is white, as is his hair, though his face is hardly lined with age. His large dark eyes are wide with reverence as he approaches slowly, timidly, but with barely restrained excitement.

"Valentine," Jace says, nodding his head to the man blandly.

"It really is you." Valentine seems to vibrate with rising elation. "I can't believe it. I've seen the paintings, the paintings of you and your family, but I never thought…never thought I'd see…"

I look to Jace in question, but he is staring at Valentine with a rather disgusted expression on his face. And then I hear a sharp gasp, and look back over to the shaky man as his eyes hone in on me, his lips parting.

"Cassia," he whispers.

I want to cringe back from the name, from the look in his eye, but I manage to stand strong.

"You found her," Valentine whispers, looking back to Jace. The man's bony hands clasp together in disturbingly odd glee. "How exciting!" He leans into me, his hand reaching out now. "May I touch you?"

I gasp and ready myself to slap him away, but Jace is already between us, his hand falling on the man's chest, pushing him back. "Ease up," Jace warns, his eyes flashing gold in the dim light.

"So protective of her," Valentine titters before letting out a strange little high-pitched laugh.

"She's the only one that can bust my siblings out of their own personal hell, so excuse me if I don't want your creepy-ass little hands grabbing all over her," Jace says, his eyes narrowing. "Do you have any information or were you just trying to arrange a meet? Because if you were lying…"

Jace doesn't have to finish the threat. It hands in the air like a physical thing.

But Valentine barely seems to notice. He simply beams and exclaims, "Yes, yes! Of course I have information. Follow me, please." The man's eyes dance manically between Jace and I a few more times before he titters again and scurries away, like an overactive rat.

I glance at Jace and arch my eyebrows. "This is your friend?"

He looks down at me briefly before watching Valentine's progress with a hint of repulsion in his eyes. "More like a means to an end. C'mon."

Jace pulls me after Valentine, past countless artifacts that I would love to inspect, and then, we are in a room that truly tops anything I've ever seen.

The room is circular and huge beyond anything, with a dome ceiling made of glass, so that I can see each raindrop stream down. There are books everywhere, made into the circular wall, level upon level, row upon row. So much knowledge, so must history. I itch at the chance to read something because that was a hobby I enjoyed before…before I did something bad and went to the hospital.

"Come, come!" Valentine chirps with alarming gaiety. He's fluttering about the room, running towards a huge desk piled with old tomes, some open and others stacked.

Jace drags me over.

"I've exhausted every resource I have," Valentine practically sings, glowing with delight. His eyes can't seem to get enough of Jace and myself. "And I've found a clue."

"Good. Tell me," Jace murmurs, peering down at the open books.

I do the same, and they are written in a language I don't understand. Yet there's something familiar about the words, about the strange spellings and odd pictures drawn in the margins. The voices stir in the recesses of my mind, curious, too.

What is it? they ask.
I don't know, I reply.

Yes, you do, they say. And then they go dangerously quiet, plotting.

"Hodge knew everything that Cassia does," Valentine says. "You know this much."

"Yes," Jace says impatiently.

"He was chosen by Cassia and her grandfather for the sole purpose of keeping the secret, of finding Cassia when she is reborn and taking care of her. He passes the knowledge down from generation to generation—a standard that has been upheld for centuries." Valentine is vibrating again.

"Your point?" Jace snaps, arching his brows.

"One of the Starkweathers let something slip!" Valentine explodes triumphantly. "In 1973, Luke Starkweather fell in love with a woman named Jocelyn. Jocelyn was a witch, and Luke, lonely from his life of babysitting Cassia, began to tell Jocelyn trade secrets, thinking that she loved him. She was deceiving him, of course, because she wanted the knowledge for a bargaining chip."

"A bargaining chip for what?" Jace asks slowly.

"Immortality, like the likes of you and your siblings."

"Why not simply find one of our pets and let them Turn her?" Jace inquires deadly, but there's a seething curiosity underneath, a curiosity that seems dangerous.

"Well, we both know that being Turned by someone that is not one of the Original Four is not as majestic. You get immortality, but the powers are weakened," Valentine says.

My mind whirls. Turned?

What's that?
I don't remember.

"So this Jocelyn wants to give me the spell to unlock the door, in return for myself Turning her?" There's something calculating in Jace's voice now.

"Exactly!" Valentine cheers. "Of course, you still know that Cassia is the key—without her, the spell cannot be done."

"But if I know the spell, then I can surely gain Cassia's cooperation in some way or the other," Jace murmurs, looking over at me and running a hot finger down my cheek with a small smile.

I jerk away from him.

Valentine watches all of this with the elation of a child.

"You have Jocelyn's phone number?" Jace asks calmly. Something in him has shifted. His mind has been made up on some matter, and I feel the danger rolling off him in waves.

I back up slightly.

"Yes, yes," Valentine says, digging in his pocket and producing a white slip of paper. "She's living in Maine, now, but I think she will be most willing to join you here."

Jace eyes the paper for a moment before safely tucking it in his pocket. "This is very good information, Valentine. I'm obliged."

He beams.

"You have turned the cameras in the museum off, correct?" Jace inquires, glancing over the old tomes in front of us once more.

"Yes, of course! I know you do not want to be seen." Valentine bounces on his toes a little, his hands wringing together in exuberance.

"And you told no one of this meeting?" Jace looks up at the man across from us, eyebrows raised. "This is very important."

Valentine shakes his head as solemnly as he can in his over-excited state. "No, no. I've followed your instructions to a T. No one knows."

"Wonderful." Jace rolls his shoulders back, tilting his neck back and forth. His limbs seem to shake slightly, as if he's restraining himself from chasing after something. He's in front of Valentine in a flash of movement that's too quick to follow.

Valentine jumps and makes a slight sound of nervous merriment.

Jace rests his hands on Valentine's vibrating shoulders. "You've done well."

Valentine glows again, but he's becoming less and less excited, more and more fearful. But he doesn't make a move to run. He's like a curious, excited kitten drawing close to something dangerous, unable to let it go. "T-thank you."

Jace smiles, but the smile is all wrong. It makes me feel sick. "You're very welcome." And then, he snaps Valentine's neck.

The snap booms through the room.

Valentine's body slumps to the floor, and Jace rolls his shoulders back again, his eyes flashing gold once in the excitement of the kill.

When he looks over at me, I have horrified tears in my eyes, my lips parted as if to speak. But what can I say? There is nothing to say.

Murderer.

Monster.

Evil.

He has no remorse in his eyes, only a slight look of dissatisfaction that I can never understand. He sighs and then jerks his chin at me. "Let's go."

And I'm too stunned to fight him.

Not too bad, right? Poor Valentine. I feel kinda bad for him. He was creepy, but he didn't deserve to die! Anyway, I hope y'all liked my weird, nerdy, now very dead, version of Valentine.