Going to New York the next day was an uneventful affair. Tessa had awoken to find Church comfortably curled up in the middle of the sofa and Michael and Mel both tangled up together and sound asleep on the living room floor. She had looked disapproving when she woke them but did not say anything about it.

The Portal Luke opened brought Michael and Mel to the apartment behind Luke's bookstore. After seeing Mel get settled in, Michael headed back to the New York Institute. He desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes as the clothes he wore – borrowed from Jem – were a little too big and short for his slim and tall frame.

It was a brisk winter morning as Michael strode up the sidewalk towards the huge gothic cathedral that only he could see. It had been home for him for six years, since he turned 18.

As he approached the front steps, he saw a boy sitting there. It was Henry Lightwood, the adopted son of Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane. Eleven-year-old Henry was not a Shadowhunter but an orphaned mundane who possessed the Sight. Alec had found him nearly five years ago, hiding in a cupboard when the Conclave raided an apartment building that had been the site of a demon attack. His dark hair had been matted with blood and he had gazed up at Alec with absolute trust.

Henry did not live in the Institute but he was a regular there as he was being trained in the Shadowhunter ways. Michael had once overheard his father speaking to Alec about putting Henry forward as a candidate for Ascension one day.

The boy loved following Michael around and seemed to look up to him as a big brother. Right now, he got up when he saw Michael and ran towards him, gladness and relief on his face. He stopped before him and exclaimed: "You're ok! I thought they were gonna kill you."

It was clear that Henry wanted to throw his arms around Michael in a big hug but was holding himself back. At that age, he thought himself too manly to indulge in such a childish gesture. Michael gave him a quick squeeze around the shoulders though. "It'll take more than some Unseelie to kill me, kid," he said. "Are you ok though? They let you get away unhurt?"

Henry nodded. "I don't know what they did to my plane though. I went back there this morning but I couldn't find it."

"Henry! You shouldn't go back there alone. What if they attacked again?" Michael asked.

"I wasn't scared," the boy protested. "I can take care of myself." He showed Michael a large knife he was carrying loosely in a gun holster inside his jacket.

Michael grinned. He grabbed Henry round the waist and lifted him up off the ground. Ignoring the boy's protests, he carried him over to a nearby Dumpster and pretended to throw him in.

"Hey! Put me down!" Henry protested, giggling and shouting at the same time. "No, no! Not the Dumpster! Mike! No! Ok, I get it. Point taken. No more going to Central Park by myself. Stop!"

Laughing, Michael put Henry down on the sidewalk. "You've got a long way to go, kid," he said, ruffling Henry's hair. He turned to walk away but sensed Henry rushing at him from behind. With a swift twist of his body, he had Henry flat on his back on the sidewalk. "Pinned ya," he teased. The boy pouted and kicked. Michael was prepared for the first kick but the second took him by surprise. That was all Henry needed to wrestle his friend down to the ground too.

"Ok, ok, I give up. You win," Michael finally said, raising his hands in mock surrender. Henry whooped in happiness. "Come on. Let's get back to the Institute. Why were you sitting on the steps? Got locked out again?" The Institute doors could be opened only by Shadowhunters. Henry was given a key but he often forgot to bring it along and had to wait outside until someone let him in.

"Nah. I was waiting for you. Ayah said you were coming back today," Henry said, referring to Magnus Bane with the Indonesian word for father. He bounded up the steps and picked up his battered messenger bag. He dug out a key and opened the Institute door for the both of them.

Footsteps were heard as they entered and the stout form of Sofia Bramasole appeared. The head of the New York Institute did not look happy. "Michael, a word," she ordered.

Henry avoided eye contact with Sofia and slunk away to his lessons. Michael sighed and followed Sofia into her office. "Am I in trouble?" Michael asked. Sofia was stern and ran a tight ship at the Institute.

She did not enlighten him until they entered her office on the second floor. It was full of filing cabinets, and a computer dominated the desk. Flowery curtains fluttered at the open window.

Michael stood before the desk, feeling like a schoolboy sent to the principal's office.

"Getting into a fight with the Fae. What were you thinking?" Sofia hissed at him. "You, of all people, should have known better. You know the Seelie aren't happy with the Nephilim now. Not since Kaelie Whitewillow was killed right in the heart of Alicante. I have told you people again and again to respect territorial boundaries, and not wander into other territories like it's a picnic," she reminded. "And, what's worse, you drag Henry into it. He's barely trained."

"It was Seelie territory," Michael protested. "I didn't know there was any edict against Nephilim going there. And it wasn't even the Seelie who attacked us. It was the Unseelie. They came out of nowhere."

"Nothing ever comes out of nowhere," Sofia snapped. "You should have been more vigilant. Clearly, you let your guard down when you shouldn't have. You will submit a full report to me and then you will liaise with Alec Lightwood on this investigation."

"Investigation?"

"Yes," she said. "Because if you were right that it was Unseelie who attacked you…"

"Of course I'm right, Sofia," he interrupted. "I'm not an idiot. I know what it was that attacked me."

"Then we have a bigger question of why they were in Seelie territory in daylight," she finished. "In any case, full report, investigate. You're scheduled for 12-hour patrol tonight." Michael groaned when he heard that. "That's for being reckless yesterday. Try and stay out of trouble this time," she said, dismissing him.

Leaving the office, Michael headed straight to his room. It was at the back of the Institute where it was dark and cool. Outside the window was a view of the surrounding buildings, creating the feeling of being walled in. Michael liked it.

He unlocked his door and walked in. The room was not large but it was a good size for him. Books were scattered all over the place – from the bookshelf to his desk, bedside table and even in his bed and under his pillow from when he read in bed. Tessa had once told him that in this respect, he was exactly a Herondale.

Herondales, she said, were all voracious readers, had a white star-shaped birthmark on their shoulder, an irrational dislike of ducks, and a tendency towards dramatics. Michael grinned to himself, remembering Mel's face when she heard that.

"It's true; you do get kind of broody and overreact sometimes," she had said, smirking a little. He had rolled his eyes at her while her parents laughed.

He now pulled out his cellphone, wanting to text Mel. He was halfway through composing his message before he realised that he did not have her cellphone number. He cursed his idiocy; how could he have forgotten to ask for something so basic?

He did not want to disturb Luke by calling to ask him for Mel's number, so he just sighed. Since he had time before his punishment patrol was due to start, he settled down at his desk and pulled out paper to begin his report for Sofia. Knowing the high standards and expectations of the Institute's head, it was going to take a while to compose an acceptable report.

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