It's me again. Prepare to continue being annoyed beyond belief by my fan fiction story! Thanks for the support guys! Thanks CorinBlue for the editing of this chapter! Happy Reading!

-Van

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments because I am not Cassandra Clare. Though I have been told the resemblance is startling. Jk, I am not red- headed enough for someone to tell me that.

Chapter fourteen: (Wow can't believe I wrote so much!)

"Max, you'll be fine." Maryse told her son for the umpteenth time. She was leaving him with the Penhallow's for a week or so as she ventured back to her homeland out of Idris. "I will be back soon," Maryse said.

"Promise," the ten year old boy asked.

Maryse swallowed. The truth was, she didn't know when she would be back, or even if she'd be back at all. "Of course," she lied. "I promised you your family back, not completely gone."

Max nodded, unsmiling, and watched as his mother sat aboard the Penhallow's last item from when they were nobles, a carriage. Zachariah Brother sat by her and commanded the horse. The carriage started away, but Maryse barely noticed. All she could think of was Max's trusting, hopeful face watching her as she left him behind.

"I don't think it'll work," Jocelyn said again, and she sat down at the dining table, two mugs of water in her hands. The water was boiling hot with mint leaves that grew behind their house. It was his substitute for coffee, which had become too expensive for them to afford after Jonathan went to Apprentice College. Personally, Jocelyn couldn't stand drinking it, but since Luke was fond of it, she'd made habit of drinking it too. Love makes liars of us all, she thought.

Luke sighed as he accepted the mug, "It will dear, just calm down. It's the only way to get our Clarissa back."

Jocelyn smiled. She loved how Luke always acknowledged Clarissa and Jonathan as their children, as if there was no doubt in his mind that he wasn't their real father. "You're right," she said, and gulped down the scalding water. "It will work. And Clarissa's a brave, smart girl. She'll be fine." She glanced at her fiancée, "Won't she?"

Luke looked at her for a moment, then bit his lip and lowered his eyes. "Of course she will."

Love makes liars of us all indeed.

Jonathan Morgenstern was the only one in the family who had kept his father's name. Technically and legally, his sister, Clarissa, was still a Morgenstern, but she had decided to take their mother's maiden name, as well as Jocelyn. Jonathan, it seemed, was the only one in the family actually attached to his father. Clarissa had been too young, and their mother, it seemed, had always been in love with Luke.

"Sir," someone knocked on the door of his small room in Apprentice College, and he winced. Not because of the loud noise, but because of the word 'Sir." I reminded him of what his family was being called right now.

"Hello," he opened the door.

A man stood in the threshold and handed him a letter. "Mail," he said and disappeared.

"Thanks," he called, and opened up the letter.

It was from his mother. It described to him what his younger sister had done. "Oh god, Clarissa," he moaned, and kept looking. He read about a detailed plan that would involve his help. He sighed, and started to the office in another building.

"How may I help you, Mr. Morgenstern?" the woman at the desk asked.

"I need to be excused," Jonathan said. "I need to go home, now."

Rebecca was babysitting. For a series of families. At no cost. And she was annoyed. Emma, the oldest girl there, was sitting patiently in front of her on the couch. At the base of the worn stairs sat a pair of twins who looked nothing alike. There was a girl, about nine, running around like a crazy person and a toddler who had just discovered the joy of crawling. And then there was Max, sitting in the corner by the door, knees locked in his arms, rocking back and forth, and unsmiling.

Rebecca faced Emma and gestured to the toddler. Emma got up and sat behind her, and Rebecca went over to Max.

"Hey," she plopped down beside him, fully aware that if the door opened it would hit her in the head. When Max didn't respond, she said, "What's wrong?"

"My mother's not coming back." Max responded.

"What do you mean?"

"Rebecca," he said calmly, and she marveled at how old he sounded, "I may be young, but I'm not stupid. I have heard my parents and Alec and even Isabelle talking. I know where they came from I know who my mother is. I know what New York is. It's a Kingdom."

"Wow," Rebecca said. "Even I didn't know that."

"Do you know who my mother is?"

No," Rebecca shrugged, "I had to leave early during yesterday's meeting, remember?"

"My mother is Maryse Trueblood."

"So?" Rebecca frowned.

"So, she is the heir to the throne of New York." Max said.

"So many Kings and Queens," Jeremiah Brother said.

"Yes," Maryse agreed, "London, New York, Los Angeles, Aclainte, and, of course, Idris."

"London," Jeremiah said dreamily. "I miss it so much. Emma has never seen it. She does not know of her origins."

"Max hasn't seen New York, but the Blackthorns have seen Los Angeles. None of the Morgensterns have seen Aclainte, I don't think."

"Do you believe we can overcome the power of the Idris army, Ms. Trueblood?"

"It is Lightwood now," Maryse corrected, "And yes, most of them work against their will so they won't resist as hard, so I believe we could. We really can."

"Alright then. Brace yourself. New York is not much farther."

Okay, well, that's all I wrote, stories over, and I don't know what else to say.

I'M LYING! I think that everyone has understood the plan the families are making. Have you? Any ideas? I have an idea! Why don't YOU review what your idea of what's going to happen is, because – let's face it – I need some more reviews. Oh well. Next chapter you'll see what's going on at home. See you (hopefully) later! Bye!

-Van