Keeping this short: I don't own the Mortal Instruments and all that jazz.

The driver took a hard left, throwing Clary against me and me against Jace. I hate sitting in the middle.

"Why are we taking Broadway, anyway?" Clary asked, struggling to get back her former posture.

"I'm starving and there's nothing at home except leftover Chinese and pizza."

"Cold pizza is a great breakfast food," I pointed out thoughtfully.

Jace made a face and fished his phone out of his pocket and held down a number on speed dial. I could just barely hear a disgruntled voice answer on the other end. "Alec! Wake up!" he shouted.

"I bet he appreciates that," I muttered to Clary. She widened her eyes in agreement.

"Met us at Taki's. Breakfast. Yeah, you heard me. Breakfast. What? It's only a few blocks away. Get going." He hung up without saying goodbye. How rude. "Stop! Right here!"

The driver pulled over quickly and Jace handed him some cash before scrambling out of the cab like it was on fire. Clary and I followed a bit more calmly.

"Welcome to the greatest restaurant in New York," Jace announced.

I stared blankly at the depressed looking building… Maybe if I turned my head to the side… Nope. Still looked like a dump. But from that angle the flickering neon sign was straight. Two men stood on either side of the doorway, like tired security guards.

"It looks like a prison," stated Clary.

"But in prison could you order a spaghetti fra diavolo that makes you want to kiss your fingers? I don't think so."

"So spaghetti is breakfast food, but pizza isn't?" I asked.

"I don't want spaghetti," Clary said. "I want to know what a Magnus Bane is."

Jace laughed. "It's not a what, it's a who. It's a name."

"Do you know who he is?"

"He's a warlock," Jace said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Only a warlock could have put a block in your mind like that. Or maybe one of the Silent Brothers, but clearly it wasn't them."

"Is he a warlock you've heard of?" Clary demanded, growing tired of Jace. I couldn't help but smile at the picture. Jace, standing there looking both calm and deadly being yelled at by tiny Clary who had her fists clenched as though she was going to hit him.

"The name does sound familiar-"

"Hey!" Alec called, jogging up the sidewalk towards us. His hair was messy but it looked alright on him. If he just developed some confidence, I was certain Alec could pull anything off he wanted to. Not that he really seemed to care about clothing… "Izzy's on her way," he said. "She's bringing the mundane."

"Simon?" I asked.

"Where did he come from?" Jace asked.

"He showed up first thing this morning. Couldn't stay away from Izzy, I guess. Pathetic," Alec said almost happily. "Anyway, are we going in or what? I'm starving."

"Me too. I could really go for some fried mouse tails," Jace said.

Clary balked. "Some what?"

"Relax," he said. "It's just a diner."

I glanced up at the building. "Doesn't look like much of a diner."

"Looks can be deceiving," Jace commented.

At the door, one of the security-like guys stopped us. I stared shamelessly at his red skin with honest curiosity. Beside me, Clary stiffened, on edge. The man nodded and allowed us to pass.

"Jace," Clary hissed as soon as we were through the door. "Who was that?"

"You mean Clancy?" he asked, looking around the restaurant. It took me by surprise that the interior was bright and cozy, not at all what I'd been expecting. I saw the waitress wave at Jace and saw him smile slightly in response. "Clancy keeps out undesireables." He then led us to a booth.

"He's a demon," Clary hissed again.

A few people turned to look at her and I felt an urge to walk faster and distance myself from Clary.

"Seriously Clary, do you think we'd be eating somewhere with demon security?" I said quietly.

"He's an ifrit," Jace said as he slid into a booth. Clary attempted to sit beside him, but Alec beat her to it. Instead she had to settle for the open spot next to me, across from Alec. "They're warlocks with no magic. Half demons who can't cast spells for whatever reason."

"Poor bastards," Alec said and picked up a menu. I leaned over Clary's shoulder to read hers seeing as there were only two at the table. I wrinkled my nose at the different platters of raw meats and different types of blood.

"Who eats whole raw fish?" Clary asked.

"Kelpies," answered Alec. "Selkies. Maybe the occasional nixie."

"Don't order any of the faerie food," Jace warned. "It tends to make humans a little crazy. One minute you're munching a faerie plum, the next minute you're running naked down Madison Avenue with antlers on your head. Not, that this has ever happened to me."

My eyes widened and I stared at him. "That was you?"

I was rewarded with seeing him turn a delicate pink and splutter over his words. Alec laughed at his reaction.

"I'm just kidding," I said. And then, "Or am I?" Alec stifled another laugh. "You decide."

Still smiling, Alec launched into some story about people I'd never heard of and words I didn't know the meanings of. I attempted to pay attention, but it was obvious Alec only cared if Jace was listening. And he wasn't. I shot the blonde boy a kick under the table. Jace glanced up at me and I nodded discretely towards Alec.

Instead Jace looked at the waitress. "Are we ever going to get any coffee?"

Alec stopped, midsentence looking like a little kid who had just dropped their snow cone.

"What's all the raw meat for?" Clary asked, holding up the menu.

"Werewolves," Jace answered, returning his attention to his menu. "Though I don't mind a bloody steak myself every once in a while. Human food is on the back."

Clary flipped the menu over and I leaned in closer to read it all.

"Oo, hot chocolate," I said.

"They have smoothies here?" Clary asked as though smoothies were a very rare and unusual thing.

"There's this apricot-plum smoothie with wildflower honey that's simply divine," Isabelle said, appearing at the booth with Simone just behind her. "Shove over." Clary smushed up to me to make room Isabelle, Simon had to sit next to Alec (neither one of them looked happy about the situation). "You should have one," Isabelle said to me.

"Smoothies? For breakfast?" I asked.

She nodded seriously. "They're delicious. So how did it go in the Bone City? Did you find out what's in Clary's head?"

"Yeah," Jace said with a snide smile. "Nothing."

I glared at him. "What he means is they couldn't remove the block but we did get a name. Magnus-"

Someone kicked me in the shin. "Ouch!"

"Shut up," Alec hissed.

"You kicked me!"

"What's your problem, Alec?" Jace asked.

"This place is full of Downworlders. You know that. I think you should try to keep the details of our investigation secret."

"Investigation?" Isabelle asked, incredulously. "Now we're detectives? Maybe we should all have code names."

"Good idea," Jace agreed. "I shall be Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein."

I moved me leg experimentally. Alec could kick. "I'm gonna have a bruise," I said finally.

"Sorry," Alec apologized into his water.

"It's alright. It's not like I've never bruised my shin before."

"You have?" Jace asked. "How?"

"Oh wouldn't you like to know," I said evasively.

Clary sighed in exasperation. "She plays basketball."

The waitress arrived to take our order. She was pretty with long, shiny blonde hair. But her eyes were solidly blue. I wondered briefly how the world looked to her. "Know what you're having?" she asked.

Jace tossed his menu into the middle of the table, not looking at the waitress. "The usual."

"Me too," Alec added.

"Two apricot-plum smoothies," Isabelle said. "Jaci, you want anything else?"

"What?" Isabelle had ordered for me? Weird. "No, that's fine."

"I'll just have coffee," Simon said.

Clary glanced at the menu one last time. "I'll have a large coffee and coconut pancakes."

The waitress promised our food would be ready soon and walked away.

"Is she an ifrit too?" asked Clary.

"Kaelie? No. Part-fey I think," Jace said.

"She's got nixie eyes," Isabelle pointed out.

"You really don't know what she is?" Simon asked.

"I respect her privacy," Jace said. "Do you ask every single person you meet their ethnicity?"

"Yes, I do. It leads to simulating conversation," Simon answered.

Jace shook his head. "I doubt anyone finds conversation with you stimulating."

I noticed Clary was staring at something and looked to see it was the cook with furry ears poking out of holes cut in his hat. He glanced up and made eye contact with me, flashing me a smile of sharp teeth.

"What's the cook?" I asked. "Do you think?"

Isabelle considered him. "I'm not sure… but I like his ears."

Kaelie reappeared with our food then and distributed it. I cautiously took a sip of my smoothie. It was fantastic.

"Told you," Isabelle said, seeing my expression.

"I told you it was the greatest restaurant in Manhattan," Jace said, popping a couple fries in his mouth.

"Really? French fries for breakfast? And you turned down cold pizza." I shook my head at the sadness of the situation.

Jace wriggled grease-covered fingers in my face. "You know you're jealous."

I batted his hand away. "Someday those things will give you…" I trailed off remembering Simon. His dad had died from a heart attack. "Heartburn," I finished lamely.

Jace grinned. "Bring it on."

"I don't get it," Clary said. "The whole Downworlder thing. You don't hunt them because they aren't exactly demons, but they're not exactly people either. Vampires kill, they drink blood-"

"Only rogue vampires drink human blood from living people. And those, we're allowed to kill," Alec interrupted, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

"And werewolves are what? Just overgrown puppies?"

"They kill demons," Isabelle said, sipping on her straw. "So if they don't bother us, we don't bother them."

"So they're good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you – but not really good enough?" Clary asked. "I mean, not as good as people."

"Different from people," Jace corrected.

"Better than mundanes?" Simon asked his coffee dully.

"No," Isabelle said. "You could turn a mundane into a Shadowhunter. I mean, we came from mundanes. But you could never turn a Downworlder into one of the Clave. They can't withstand the runes."

"So they're weak?" Clary asked loudly.

"I wouldn't say that," Jace warned. "At least not with a peri, a djinn, an ifrit, and God knows what else listening in. But it's not one way. We may not always like Downworlders, but they don't always like us, either. A few hundred years of Accords can't wipe out a thousand years of hostility."

Isabelle stirred her smoothie idly. "I'm sure she doesn't know what the Accords are, Jace."

"She does," I said. "Remember? You were there when Hodge explained it to her."

"I don't," Simon said.

"You were there too, though," Isabelle pointed out.

"Physically," Alec said.

"Nobody cares what you know," Jace said to Simon. "I enjoy the company of certain Downworlders at certain times and places but we don't really get invited to the same parties."

Like the cool kids at school who use people but can't be seen around with them.

"Wait," Isabelle said, turning very alert. "What did you say that name was?" she demanded of me. "The name in Clary's head."

"She didn't," Jace drawled. "At least, she didn't finish it."

"It's Magnus Bane," I said.

Jace grinned at Alec. "Rhymes with 'overcareful pain in the ass.'"

"Fucking asshole," Alec muttered, vehemently biting some fries.

"It can't be – but I'm almost totally sure-" Isabelle muttered as she dug through her purse. I didn't even attempt to figure out her train of thought from her comment. Victoriously, she pulled a folded blue paper from her purse. "Look at this."

Alec took the paper and shrugged before handing it to Jace. "It's a party invitation. For somewhere in Brooklyn. I hate Brooklyn."

"Don't be such a snob." Jace smoothed out the paper and held it so I could see it as well.

"Wow," I murmured.

"Where did you get this, Izzy?" Jace asked.

"From that kelpie in Pandemonium. He said it would be awesome. He had a whole stack of them."

"What is it?" Clary demanded. "Are you going to show the rest of us, or not?"

Jace turned the invitation around so Clary and Simon could read it.

"Magnus," Simon said. "Magnus like Magnus Bane?"

"I doubt there are that many warlocks named Magnus in the Tristate Area," Jace said dryly.

Alec made a face. "Does that mean we have to go to the party?"

"We don't have to do anything." Jace studied the invitation closer. "But according to this, Magnus Bane is the High Warlock of Brooklyn and I, for one, am a little curious as to what the High Warlock of Brooklyn's name is doing inside Clary's head."

Isabelle clapped her hands. "I love parties!"

We had until midnight, when the party started. As soon as we were back to the Institute, Jace and Alec vanished off to the weapons room and Isabelle and Simon left to go for a walk in Central Park. Clary half looked like she wanted to go but when Simon invited her she angrily declined. I also politely backed out. They were going to see the faerie circles, which I'd seen when I was little and accused of being crazy.

"I'm going to take a nap," Clary announced to me once Isabelle and Simon had left.

"Alright. Hey," I said, suddenly remembering. "Do you have your charger? My phone's almost dead and my charger was at home."

"Um… I think so? I'll have to check."

Together we walked to her room, wrapped in silence. I figured Clary was probably lost in thought; she already had a lot to process from the day. She opened her door for me. Her room was just like the one I was in, though it didn't look quite as inhabited as mine. Clary went to her bag and dug out her charger which she tossed to me.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem. You can keep it, my phone got smashed."

I wondered briefly if she said that to make me feel guilty about causing her to drop her phone but shook it off. "Get some sleep, Clary."

"What are you going to do?" Clary asked, her voice letting the voice of a little girl through.

"I think I'm going to go up to the greenhouse for a bit," I said, hand on the door. "It's peaceful up there."

I stopped at my room to drop off the charger on my way. Peeta was curled up on my bed like usual so I left the door open for him if he wanted to get out.

The greenhouse was just as fresh and new seeming as the first time I'd been there. I wandered through the plants, occasionally breaking off a leaf to play with. It still made me slightly homesick, but I stayed where I was. I wasn't tired enough to sleep yet but I didn't feel like doing anything strenuous.

"Jaelyn?" a voice called. Hodge was standing just on the other side of the plant I had been looking at.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were up here," I apologized.

He smiled kindly. "It's alright. The greenhouse is not mine in particular. Is there a specific reason you came here?"

I shook my head. "It's just relaxing."

Hodge nodded in understanding. "I was just going to the library. If you come along, I could make you some tea."

Feeling like it would be rude to refuse, I agreed.

"I've been thinking about your Mark, Jaci," he said while we walked.

"Oh?" was all I could think of to say.

"It seems possible, maybe even probable, that someone had the Mark removed from you."

"I didn't even know that was possible," I admitted.

"Even permanent Marks will begin to fade with time, but I believe something, or someone more correctly, helped yours along."

I thought about that… it made sense. "Maybe it was the same person who put a block on Clary's mind," I suggested.

Hodge thought about that and said nothing else until we reached the library. The door was already open and Clary stood by the desk, holding something in her hands.

"That's Valentine," Hodge said to her, glancing over her shoulder. "When he was seventeen."

Clary jumped drastically, not having heard us enter.

"I'm so sorry," she set down the picture she had been holding, "I didn't mean to pry into your things."

"It's all right, it's a piece of your past after all," Hodge said.

I stepped forward to look at the picture. It showed a group of teens dressed in Shadowhunting gear. I saw Jocelyn immediately. She looked like Clary, I noted. How did I wind up in this family? Valentine must have been the boy next to her.

"Valentine looks… sort of nice," Clary said.

"Nice he wasn't, but he was charming and clever and very persuasive. Do you recognize anyone else?" Hodge asked.

I studied the picture. Clary pointed to an awkward looking boy. "Is that you?"

Hodge nodded. "And…?"

"That's Luke," I said softly.

"Lucian. And here," Hodge pointed to a boy and girl standing close together, both with dark hair. "The Lightwoods," he said. "And there" – he pointed to a tall boy with dark curly hair and a slightly darker complexion with a well-defined jaw-line – "is Michael Wayland."

"He looks familiar…" I muttered.

"He doesn't look anthing like Jace," Clary said.

"Jace resembles his mother," Hodge stated.

"Is this, like, a class photo?" asked Clary.

"Not quite. This is a picture of the Circle, taken in the year it was formed. That's why Valentine, the leader, is in the front, and Luke is on his right side – he was Valentine's second in command."

Clary looked away while I continued to study the photograph. Alec and Isabelle, I decided, took after their mother.

"I still don't understand why our mother would join something like that," Clary said.

"You must understand-"

"You keep saying that," Clary snapped. "I don't see why I must understand anything. You tell me the truth, and I'll either understand it or I won't."

I smiled to myself. She had a very good point.

"As you say," Hodge said. "The Accords have never had the support of the whole Clave. The more venerable families, especially, cling to the old times, when Downworlders were for killing. Not just out of hatred but because it made them feel safer. It is easier to confront a threat as a mass, a group, not individuals who must be evaluated one by one… and most of us knew someone who had been injured or killed by a Downworlder. There is nothing quite like the moral absolutism of the young. It's easy, as a child, to believe in good and evil, in light and dark. Valentine never lost that – neither his destructive idealism nor his passionate loathing of anything he considered 'nonhuman.'"

"But he loved Jocelyn," I stated.

"Yes, he loved your mother. And he loved Idris…"

"What was so great about Idris?" Clary demanded sulkily. For some reason I felt slightly offended by her slight. What? I'd never even been to Idris.

"It was," Hodge began, "I mean it is, home – for the Nephilim, where they can be their true selves, a place where there is no need for hiding or glamour. A place blessed by the Angel. You have never seen a city until you have seen Alicante of the glass towers. It is more beautiful than you can imagine."

"Alicante?" I asked. "Like Alicante, Spain?"

"There are many cities with the same name," Hodge said patiently.

"I know, it's just I would've thought that the capital of the Shadowhunter homeland would be something a bit more… original."

"Were there ever… dances in the Glass City?" Clary asked thoughtfully.

"Every week," Hodge answered. "I never attended, but your mother did. And Valentine. I was more of a scholar. I spent my days in the library in Alicante. The books you see here are only a fraction of the treasures it holds. I thought perhaps I might join the Brotherhood someday, but after what I did, of course, they would not have me."

"I'm sorry," Clary said. I shuffled my feet awkwardly, wanting to leave.

"Can I have this?" I asked, picking up the picture.

Hodge hesitated slightly. "I would prefer you not show it to Jace. He has enough to contend with, without photos of his dead father turning up."

I nodded and examined it again. Michael Wayland reminded me of someone, but I still couldn't figure out who.

"Clary, did you come to the library to see me, or for some other purpose?" Hodge asked.

"I was wondering if you'd heard from the Clave. About the Cup. And – our mom."

"I got a short reply this morning."

Clary couldn't keep the eagerness out of her voice. "Have they sent people? Shadowhunters?"

Hodge turned away from Clary and walked over to his raven, Hugo. "Yes, they have."

"There is some concern that the Institute is being watched by Valentine. The less he knows, the better. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Clarissa. I am not much trusted by the Clave, even now. They told me very little. I wish I could help you."

Clary sighed, dejectedly. "You can. I can't sleep. I keep thinking too much. Could you…"

Hodge smiled kindly. "Ah, the unquiet mind. I can give you something for that. Wait here."

I watched him through narrowed eyes as he left the library. Clary and I waited in silence and I studied the floor. On a random note, I noticed Clary was still wearing her shoes. The only other person I'd seen in the Institute (besides Hodge who didn't really count because he was the type of person who always wore shoes) wearing shoes had been Simon. Alec, Isabelle, Jace, and I all either went barefoot or wearing socks. Oh the strange things I notice when I'm bored.

"Why am I waiting?" I asked no one. "Imma go sleep or something. Bye, Clary."

She mumbled a response as I left. Leaving seemed like the best option, to be honest. I really didn't want tea, rude or not.

I paused momentarily in the hall outside my door. I was certain I'd left the door open earlier but now it was shut firmly. Maybe Peeta had…? No. That cat was not big enough to shut a door. Especially the heavy decorative doors of the Institute. With a mental shrug, I shoved the door open.

"Don't panic, it's just me."

"Jace!" I cried. He was lounging across my bed, reading something. My eyes widened drastically as I saw the cover and in an instant I had plucked the book out of his hands.

"Hey!" he protested but I'd already stashed City of Ashes back in my bag. "I was going to read that!"

I heard the future tense and internally sighed in relief. "You don't need to be reading, you should be going to sleep. You look terrible."

"You may be the only person who has ever told me I look terrible," he said. "Usually girls are telling me how stunning I look."

"Well not all girls fall in love with you on sight," I said, sitting down on the bed next to him.

"It's not love," he said. The somber tone made me look at him. His head was bowed and he was studying his clasped hands. For a moment he looked defeated. I reached out to touch his shoulder but let my hand drop, not sure really what to do. Part of me wanted to comfort him and another part, the rational part of me, wanted me to make Jace leave. To make him go to Clary, where he should be.

"You called me Catori earlier," I said.

He glanced at me, momentarily confused. "Yes. You told me not to call you Fray."

"It was just weird, is all," I said with a shrug. "The only time anyone uses 'Catori' is when they're yelling at me. You know, the whole middle name thing parents pull when you've messed something up."

He groaned good-naturedly. "You have no idea. When Maryse yells 'Jonothan Christopher' I know it's going to be bad."

"Does she yell at you a lot?" I asked curiously.

Jace shrugged and grinned. "Relatively. I think it's more automatic now."

I nodded in understanding. "Occasionally, Jocelyn would yell 'Jaelyn' at Clary when she was mad."

"Jocelyn and Jaelyn…" Jace mused. "Seems odd that your mom would give you a name that close to hers."

"I'm just glad she didn't name me Clarissa," I stated. "I really don't like that name. I was the one who started calling her Clary." I sighed heavily and rubbed at my eyes.

"If you're tired I could tell you a bedtime story," he offered.

I checked to be sure he was serious. No ghost of a smile hovered on his face. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious."

"You're a terrible liar."

He smiled at me. "Lie down and close your eyes."

"Are you going to tuck me in, too?" I joked, letting my hair down. I can't sleep with it up, too uncomfortable.

Those golden eyes sparkled. "Maybe. Now lie down."

I did as he said. Jace pulled the blankets up to my chin and gently pushed my bangs off my face, fingers trailing along my cheek. I stared up at him, hardly daring to breathe.

"Once there was a boy," he began. "When the boy was six years old, his father gave him a falcon to train. Falcons are raptors – killing birds, his father told him, the Shadowhunters of the sky.

"The falcon didn't like the boy, and the boy didn't like it, either. Its sharp beak made him nervous, and its bright eyes always seemed to be watching him. It would slash at him with beak and talons when he came near: For weeks his wrists and hands were always bleeding. He didn't know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus was nearly impossible to tame. But the boy tried, because his had told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father.

"He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because a tired bird was meant to be easier to tame. He learned the equipment: the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist. He was meant to keep the falcon blind, but he couldn't bring himself to do it – instead he tried to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him. He fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later it ate so savagely that its beak cut the skin of his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if the bird had to consume his blood to make that happen.

"He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for the speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and come to his wrist, he nearly shouted with delight. Sometimes the bird would hop to his shoulder and put its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain it was not just tamed but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what he had done, expecting him to be proud.

"Instead his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands and broke its neck. 'I told you to make it obedient,' his father said, and dropped the falcon's lifeless body to the ground. 'Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed; it was broken.'

"Later, when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until eventually his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird away and bury it. The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he'd learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed."

There were tears in my eyes as I reached for Jace's hand. He allowed me to pick it up and examine it. Pale scars graced the center of his palm. I traced them with my thumb. "What was the falcon's name?"

"Kynigos. Greek for 'hunter'."

"Do you really believe that?" I asked softly. "About love?"

He didn't answer, but instead stretched out beside me, on top of the blankets. "How about you tell me a story? Maybe why a Shadowhunter girl would be afraid of being buried alive?"

Was there a reason for my fears in this past? Or where they only based from before Peliel? No. There were reasons. I took a deep breath before I began. "There once was a little girl-"

"A Shadowhunter," Jace said.

"Yes, a Shadowhunter girl, but she didn't know it. She believed in evil things because that's what children do, not because she knew they really existed.

"During the day, she was happy. She lived with her mother and her sister in a little apartment. Sometimes, they would go to the park. She loved going to the park. Whenever they went, she would play with the little faeries that lived in the bushes until her mother would scold her for wandering off. The little girl never told her mother about the faeries, she was afraid her mother would yell at her.

"The girl hated night. She didn't like the way the shadows moved across her bedroom floor or the way the wind howled at her window but she never told anyone she was afraid. Instead, she closed her eyes very tightly and went to sleep and dreamt about the faeries at the park.

"One night, closing her eyes didn't keep out the things of the darkness. They pounded at the window and danced across the floor, telling the little girl to come out and play. She ignored them at first, until one shadow slipped through the crack of the window and pulled back her blanket. 'Come play!' it said when it grabbed her wrist with its brittle hands. The little girl did not like the shadow's smile, but she didn't want it to hurt her sister so she went outside where more shadows waited.

"The shadows grabbed her hands and pulled her to the park where the faeries were. They made the little girl dance, and at first she had fun. Later, she was tired and tripped and fell, but the shadows still made her dance. When she could not dance anymore, the shadows chased her, baring the sharp little teeth.

"The little girl fled, terrified but the faster she ran, the faster the shadows ran, biting at her heels. They chased the girl to a pond and then they chased her out into the middle where she had to tread water. The shadows laughed at the little girl struggling until one pushed her under.

"Frightened, she tried to get back to the surface, but she could not find it. She could not breathe and could not see. The shadows flickered around her in the water and laughed. She could hear their laughter.

"The next morning, the little girl woke up in her bed, soaked with pond water and clutching a branch with a single leaf on it. That night, she locked her window and she never went back to the park again."

Jace's eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep. I closed my eyes and tried to dispel the image of the shadows at the window.

"Which park was it?" Jace asked.

I opened my eyes to see him looking at me. "Central."

"That's where the Seelie Courts are," he commented. "How old were you?"

I curled into a small ball. "I don't know. Not older than six."

His mouth curled up in a wry smile. "Faeries have a cruel sense of humor."

"Sense of humor?" I echoed, my voice uneven.

Jace rested his forehead against mine, noses touching. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He took both of my hands in his and he moved just the smallest bit until our lips barely touched. My lips curled up in a smile and I deepened the kiss.

Not enough Jace/Jaci action, eh? Want more of ^^^^ that? You know what to do . Give my imagination a reason to exist and reviewwww!