Hey everyone! I'm really sorry this took so long; I had a mojor case of writer' block and just... LIFE to deal with. Anyway, sorry. And if you're reading this, thanks for staying with me. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 14 – Sea of Stars

The full moon hung in a sea of stars, so bright that with her Shadowhunter vision, every detail was clear. The sand looked like white gold in the celestial light, the water lapping quietly against the shore. The ocean was calm, stretching to the horizon where it kissed the diamond-studded sky. Joanna stopped and stared. For a moment she forgot the pain in her bruised body.

She looked over at the sound of a soft thud beside her. Asher had taken off his gear, leaving him barefoot in a dirty t-shirt and jeans. She blinked.

"What–?"

"The saltwater will help," he said.

Silence fell over them as Joanna untied her boots and struggled to pull them off. She worked to stand again; pain spiked in her arm and made her gasp until Asher scooped her up and set her on her feet. She opened her mouth to say thank you but he was already unbuckling her gear and carefully sliding it off in a way that made her stomach feel light.

When she was in her tank top and jeans, he reached behind her and gently pulled out her ponytail. She took a sharp breath as her hair tumbled across her shoulders and his fingers lingered, brushing it back and tracing lightly down the sides of her face. She was barely aware of anything else but his grey eyes, gleaming silver in the moonlight. They were standing so close, close enough for Joanna to feel the heat radiating off of him through his thin shirt.

He dropped his hands and stepped back. The cool night air caressed her bare shoulders and played with a few strands of her hair. Her bare feet sank into the warm sand. She shivered, looking out at the ocean again. The world seemed frozen, beautifully still and silent, like nothing existed outside this moment.

When she looked back she saw that he'd turned to the side and was pulling his shirt off over his head. The gesture was almost self-conscious, and she found herself watching the muscles in his back flex. His Marks were strong and dark, curling against his skin. He didn't look back at her as he headed for the water.

She followed.

The water was strangely warm, lapping against her toes and soaking the hem of her jeans. Asher stopped when he was thigh-deep, turning to look at her. She waded out to him, feeling the water crawl up her legs and sooth her aching body, just as he'd said. She reached out to him, almost wondering if he was real, if this was a dream; he made it easy to believe Nephilim really were the descendants of angels.

He took her hands and she willingly let herself be drawn into deeper water, until the sway of the tide lifted her off her feet.

His lips were warm and soft, pressing against hers in a way that made her stomach drop out of her, a sensation of falling, so good it left her breathless. She could feel the firmness of his body pressed against hers, the circle of his strong arms around her. Heat rose in her, and she only wanted to be closer–

And then he ran through her mind. Alex. Jo pulled away with a gasp, feeling stricken.

"Are you…?" Asher began, but he didn't finish. His eyes, dark with desire, turned hard at the expression on her face. Joanna took a stumbling step back, water dragging at her clothes. A chill replaced the heat, shivering down to her bones. Alex. Her trembling stomach felt as though it had been swallowed whole by the hole in her heart. Alex.

"I… I can't," she stammered in a whisper, backing away. "I'm sorry."

Alex.

Joanna jerked awake, gasping. The dream had been so vivid it took her a moment to sort out what was reality.

Asher and Jo had shared an intimate moment on that beach, floating in the ocean. She could still feel her hands in his. It was a moment she would never forget, a moment she'd never felt with anyone else. It set off a longing in her body but an aching in her heart at the same time.

They'd walked back to the Institute in comfortable silence, not saying a word until Asher had pulled her against him smoothly and murmured a quiet goodnight, leaving her standing dazedly outside her door.

She sat up in bed, pushing back her messy hair with a shiver at the potent memory. Slipping out of bed, her bare feet struck to cold floor with a dull thud. Just like very other morning, she left her room and padded down the hall in her tank top and flannel pyjama pants. She grimaced as she moved; her body still ached from the beating it had taken the night before, despite the runes and ocean water. She hadn't been able to find her own stele, the one Asher had given her the day she arrived, and was reluctant to get a new one from the weapons room.

"Asher?" she called as she walked into the dining room for breakfast, stretching her arms above her head with her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she yawned. He was usually up before her. "Have you seen my stele? I can't find–"

"Joanna?"

Jo's eyes snapped open and she froze. Asher stood against the far wall, looking pale and sullen. Remington was standing at the end of the table, eyes wide and looking uncomfortable. In front of him stood a tall, willowy woman with her hair pulled back severely in a bun.

"Mom?" Joanna exclaimed, dropping her arms to her sides. She simultaneously wanted to run to her mother and yell at her. Something in her mother's face stopped her from doing either.

Patricia Devereau looked horrified, staring at the raw red wounds circling Joanna's right forearm, the demon-blood burns, the purpling bruises. "It's not as bad as it looks," Jo told her mom reassuringly, before she realized that Patricia looked even more overwhelmed at the sight of the Marks of Jo's skin.

"What else haven't you told me, John?" she said sharply to Remington.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Joanna asked her mother just as sharply, even though she had no idea what Patricia and Remington had been talking about. Jo was referring to her Nephilim heritage. Patricia was a kind woman with intense drive – something Joanna understood well because she herself was much the same. But it hurt to know her mother has purposefully kept this from her.

"I thought your inner eye was blind," her mother replied, looking troubled.

"Yes," Jo replied. "A rune of my shoulder took my Sight away. YOU put it there."

"No," her mother said. "I would have never taken away from you what you are–" She broke off suddenly. Joanna kept her face impassive. Joanna knew Patricia well; she could see her mother's passion for Shadowhunting clearly. She remembered all the things they'd shared – but never this. Maybe Jo didn't know her mother so well after all. Patricia looked dazedly pained.

"Joshua," she whispered, and Jo blinked at the sound of her father's name, breaking her carefully composed expression.

"What does Dad have to do with this?"

"Your father," Patricia began after a pause, "never liked this life, never got satisfaction from it. He hated the danger, the killing; he said it was no world to raise a child in, no matter how badly we wanted one. I thought that was because of his own unhappy childhood. He was as distraught as he was joyous when you were born. And he was so relieved when you couldn't see the Shadow World… but I never suspected him to blind you himself."

Joanna stared at her mother. She'd been angry at her mother for blocking her Sight, but now she could see how wholly Patricia believed in the Shadowhunter's mission and principles, and how she'd wanted to raise her child the same way.

"I had to keep you safe," Patricia said. "Without the Sight, you were helpless. But I couldn't tell you about the Shadow World." Her mother looked upset, eyes pleading. "I'm sorry, honey."

"It's okay Mom, I understand," Jo said, hugging her mother. Patricia hugged back tightly. For a moment Jo let herself relax in the arms of what was familiar and good. She breathed in her mother's scent, something that never changed. It was comforting. But when they broke apart, Patricia suddenly looked stern and Jo almost laughed at the motherly expression.

"What happened to your arm, young lady?"

"Female Caulker demon," Jo replied with a proud smile. "I killed it and its mate." She glanced at Asher. "Asher helped a little," she admitted, smiling at him. He met her eyes for a moment before looking away without returning her grin. Her own smile faded in response and she looked back at her mother, who was staring down Remington again.

"Why is my daughter here, John?" she asked. Joanna focused all her attention on Remington. This was something she wanted to know since she arrived, and finally she would get her answer. Remington looked vaguely nervous as he replied.

"There is a rogue Shadowhunter in the area," he said, "wanted for the crime of killing another Nephilim." Patricia furrowed her slim eyebrows. It was strange for Joanna to see the man she knew as her mentor addressing her mother as though she were his superior. With a start, she realized that Patricia probably was Remington's boss, if what Asher said about her high standing in the Clave was true. Then Remington cleared his throat and explained.

"The rogue is a child, seventeen years old, and he killed his father."