"Izzy." Alec called as he rounded the corridor. It was easy to get lost in the Institute, with so many hallways, and bedrooms hidden away in what the mundane world thought was just an abandoned church. "Let's go."

Isabelle forced a smile as she exited her room. "Hey there, big bro."

He gave her the once over, shaking his head in annoyance as he took in the matching leather shirt and skirt, her too-high high heels, and the wig, balanced carefully on her right hand.

"Really?"

"What can I say? Demons dig blondes."

"Of course they do." He grumbled.

He hated the thought of anyone, let alone a disgusting, miserable demon lusting after his sister, but that was Isabelle, confident, and comfortable with her body.

He would never try to change her.

Alec pointed to the false hair. "That's white."

"Platinum." Isabelle corrected. "And they don't exactly like Shakespeare, okay, Alec?"

"You're plenty distracting on your own."

"So, be yourself." She said, raising an eye brow. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

He waved her away. "Never mind. Looking good, let's go. We're ready, Jace."

His parabatai turned to face him, his expression more relaxed than it had been earlier. There was no tension between the brothers, they had just needed time to cool off.

"Nice choice, Izzy." Jace nodded in approval. "Demons dig blondes."

Isabelle grinned at him smugly. "Told you."

"It's platinum." Alec insisted.

Jace gestured to the screen in front of him, already bored of the conversation. "All right, guys, for some reason our demon friends are killing mundanes and draining their blood."

"Why do they want blood? Isn't that vampire territory?"

"I don't know, Alec, lazy vampires, maybe?" He sighed. "There must be something special about their blood."

The eldest Lightwood scoffed. "What could be special about mundane blood?"

"You get me a sample and I'll tell you exactly what they're looking for."

Jace let his shoulders drop in an uninterested shrug. "We'll have more answers when we figure out exactly who the demons are working for."

"So, you don't think they're acting on their own?"

"No. They're not exactly creative thinkers, they're shapeshifters." He pointed to the screen. "This is what our target looks like."

Isabelle brushed a finger across the cool silver of her whip. "For now."