DJ: Okay people I'm back! It's memorial day weekend and so my family went camping with some family friends, and right now I'm sitting in my little cubby, hiding from everyone so I can write for you wonderful people.

Clary: can you hurry up. I want to see the chapter.

DJ: where's Jace and Zach *frowns*

Cammie: they got tired of you making googly eyes at them and decided to leave and never come back

DJ: well then they should have taken you with them. 'cause now I'm going to use you guys as bait.

Clary: we should start running now, shouldn't we?

DJ: yes you should.

Cammie: before we go, just want to say that we all would love it if you would review. Give some feedback, tell DJ that her writing is awful

DJ: I'm only going to laugh at you if you do though.

Cammie: just review. Please and thank you!

(Cammie's pov.)

Slowly, as though a bomb was about to explode, we opened the book to a random page. We looked at each other, relieved to find we haven't been blown to pieces, painting the library walls a nice shade of crimson. We looked back down at the book, flipping through, stopping and skimming some of the pages.

"This Gilly lady did all this?" Clary asked.

"Yeah. She was amazing. First female spy. But they wouldn't let her into the CIA because they thought her hoop skirt might get in the way. So she started a school for spy girls in training. Gallagher Girls Academy for exceptional Youth woman. Oh! Here it is!"

We huddled even closer, burning holes into the book we were staring at it so intently.

Clary started to read:

"Although all the adventures Gilly went on took a good amount of time and energy for one single woman, she somehow found time to go on one of the most amazing, and existing adventure yet: falling in love. No one knows exactly how they met—a CIA pavement artist had somehow lost her in the crowded streets at the Virginian Fair they were holding Charleston—but they spent many hours talking while taking midnight strolls down by the lake side, and sharing a meal in her home. No one knows for sure who he really was, but Gilly often called him Adam or her hunter. CIA agents have searched every inch of the database and have found no Adam that fits his description. It was/is unknown if he was a civilian. He also wasn't known to have ever hunted while with Gilly. The two had a secret, a secret they would die to protect. Needless to say, Gilly was in love. This man was everything to her, and for a while, she had stopped spying just to spend time with him. But it is believe it was him who had convinced Gilly to open Gallagher Academy. The two were to be married, and already had a child on the way. But four weeks before the baby was born, Adam disappeared. Gilly, heartbroken, fell into a state of depression. She had her child alone with only a young nurse—new to child birth—to hold her hand as she deliver. Once the baby—a girl named Jessica—was born, Gilly got over her heartbreak, and learned to be a mother. She raised Jessica as a spy and she was one of the first girls to attend Gallagher."

"Bla bla bal, more about her daughter," Clary said. She turned me. "So it's true? They really were together."

I nodded. "That's how it looks like."

"And they had a child." Clary shook her head. "Okay so Gilly married Adam, a shadowhunter… so what? I get it's illegal and all, but why send you here, years after all of this? Decades really. What did they have to gain from all this?"

I shrugged. "It's probably nothing. They must have been punishing my parents."

Clary shook her head again. "No. No the Clave is mean, and sometimes cruel, but there's more to it than that." She turned to me. "Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter right now. It's getting late, and I promised Jace I'd get home before he did. Let's go."

I started putting the book back where it belonged, but, as though it was knocked out of my hand by an invisible force, the book dropped from my hand, landing spin up. I bent over to pick it up, sighing. I started walking again, but felt paper crumple under my feet. I looked down to see a folded piece of paper, thin from being squished between pages of an old book. I picked it up, and unfolded it. It was a paper of a bunch of different painted colored squiggles, and numbers next to them. I'd throw it out latter.

I stopped in to tell Rachel I was leaving, and when I got back into the hall, Clary was staring at one of the pictures on the wall.

"Such a beautiful painting," she muttered.

I got closer, standing next to Clary as we both stared up at the painting. It really was beautiful. "A painting of the grounds around Gallagher," I told her. "I wonder who had it done."

"There's no John Hancock at the bottom," Clary commented.

I laughed. "If Mr. Smith was here, I'm willing to bet that he would start ranting on how he's convinced that that painting holds a secret message."

"A secret message?" Clary laughed. "How can a painting hold a secret message?"

"Oh, it's easy. It's a biometric system. They use colors to hold a secret message. Like on a computer. Every color has a number to it. And in-between those numbers you can hide letters. Put it all together and you have a secret message. They're hard to find, that's why terrorists and spies use them to hold information. That's what Osama Bin Laden did when he blew up the twin towers."

"Oh, cool. But this isn't a print, so why would your teacher think it'd be a biometric system message?"

"It doesn't have to be done on a computer. You can paint it too. All you need is a key." (A/N: I'm not sure if that's true. I just learned about this, and I was spacing out during most of it)

The more I stared at the painting, the more I thought about how odd it was that there was a painting of the grounds in the school. And the P and E barn was never green. And there wasn't ever any sheds by the lake. So why were they in this painting? And the symbols on the bottom looked strangely like runes. That's when it hit me. "A biometric system," I whispered. "And a key." I pulled out the scrap piece of paper with all the numbers and colors on it. "The painting is a message," I said. "Gilly hid a message in the painting!"

"What?" Clary asked, wiping around to face me.

I pulled her closer to the painting. "You see those little symbols on the bottom there? What do they say?"

"How should I know? I don't speak…" She stopped herself, recognizing the secret language. "They're runes!"

"Yes! You were right Clary! I was sent here for a reason! To retrieve this!"

"But how are we going to get it back? I mean, its way up there, and is no small painting."

I scoffed. "Clary, we're shadowhunters. A big painting way up high is no problem." I looked over at the curtains framing the window, sitting next to the painting, walking over there. I grabbed a chunk of red material in each of my fists, pulling experimentally to see how sturdy it was. Then I started climbing.

I could feel Clary staring up at me in wonder. This seriously wasn't the hardest thing I've done. I started swinging back and forth, getting closer and closer to the painting each time. With one last thrust to in the portrait's direction, I caught the top of the frame, not daring to let go. Ever so slowly, I pulled out my steele. I carved a rune into the wood frame, looking down to see how far up I actually was. Let's just say, I'm glad I'm not afraid of heights. I placed my hand on the wood, then pushed, watching my hand go right through, straight to the painting itself.

"What rune is that?" Clary yelled.

I looked down at her. "You should know! You made it!"

"I know I made it, but I'm wondering how you know it!"

I smirked. "I admit, I was snooping." I heard her mutter a colorful word, causing me to laugh. "Language, Clarrisa! Language!"

"Just get the painting!"

I grabbed a hold of the painting, and started to peel it like a sticker. I knew I had to be careful, 'cause if I dropped this—who knows what trouble I might be in.

Finally the entire painting was out, and muttered a prayer. "Please, almighty Angels above—If you love me—don't let me destroy this painting." Then I let go of the frame. I started swinging back and forth at a pace that was a little too fast for my liking. I cursed, and whimpered. After a minute of swinging, it slowed down enough that I was able to slid down the curtain.

Once I was a few feet above the ground, I asked Clary to pick up the end of the painting to make sure I didn't step on it. Even slower than before, I slid till I reached the bottom. I gave the paining to Clary, thinking it'd be better if an artist rolled up the painting.

"Okay, so we have it. Now what?" Clary asked, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Now you give it to us," a voice said behind us.

We whipped around to come face to face with Zach's mom. I tore my eyes away from her, not wanting to look at her for too long, only to find that we were slowly being surrounded by Circle members.

"Thank you, Campari, for finding that for us," she said, with and evil smirk. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't come today."

I didn't say a word, my mind working out a plan. While the circle knew that we had something the Clave wants, they didn't know exactly what it was. I could see it in their eyes, at how interested they were with what Clary had. They must have just came in. They don't know. And we're going to keep it that way, I thought.

"Clary?" I hissed.

"Yeah?" the young red head stuttered, eyeing the group around her.

"Run. But whatever you do, don't let that thing go."

Then I pounced at the first Circle member in sight.