The Price We Paid

by BellaAodh

The past has finally caught up with Kit when he runs into Ty at the Shadowhunter Academy. Meanwhile the Shadow World is changing, the Mortal Instruments are missing and a new foe is rising. Kit finds that he can't run away from his lineage just as he can't run away from that night three yeas ago. Soon they will both have to face the consequences as death comes looking for payment.

19. A Love That Never Runs Smooth

The L.A. Institute was alive with energy it hadn't seen in the years before probably even the Dark War. Dru walked determinedly past everyone, doing her best not to make eye contact. A fresh wave of new patrols walked into the front entrance to check in before relieving the previous patrol. There were local members of the Shadowhunter Downworlders alliance protesting said patrols, in the foyer. And of course, Livvy's Rebels dashing through the halls, trying to figure out what they're doing.

The few times Dru had seen the Institute in full operation before she had been too young to really be apart of things and help. But now she was caught in the center of it, just like everyone else. She wished she could just crawl into one of her old hideouts and just avoid everyone.

But she couldn't, not today.

Today wasn't even going to be as hard as the next one, but Dru was still dragging her feet through it. She hopped over a banister to find one of the doors underneath the stairwell. It was the place they kept things like extra decorations, lightbulbs, and the banners. The banners were what she was here for today. She pushed past a few boxes to find it, stuffed in a cardboard box that smelled like moth balls.

The white banners were waiting for her as she opened the box. Gently, she picked them up, letting the harder plastic rub harshly against her fingers. It was meant to endure hanging outside Institutes and other Clave buildings in any weather for whatever duration.

It wasn't a comforting material, Dru thought bitterly. The point of having a color for death was to help find closure. That was what they needed by replacing the blue banners that had waved through the Institute for over a year and a half now.

Ty and Kit never came back from Faerie, they just vanished. They had tried to keep in contact, they had searched everywhere, asked everyone, but nothing.

The knowledge that the Riders of Mannan were back looking for Kit made matters worse. It loomed over Dru, and those that she told, like rain that never comes.

Finally, someone, though Dru couldn't even remember who it was, eventually announced it was time.

They were putting up the white banners tomorrow.

She was sure they had a eulogy prepared somewhere, probably Julian wrote one. He had locked himself away this last trip back from Faerie, she knew this was hard on him to do this again. So, she decided she was going to be the one to put up the white banners.

She closed the lid again, and with a sigh tugged it free from the other boxes.

"Dru!" Jaime was suddenly right behind her.

She gasped, tightening the box and crumpling the cardboard. Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing, holding the box to her chest, part of the banner peeking out of the box.

Jaime was around her in an instant, one of his arms around her, his other hand steadying her back.

"Dru? What's wrong?" His hand found the loose ribbon, and stopped talking as he watched it slide through his fingers. "You don't have to be the one to do this. Helen or Julian will take care of it."

Dru shook her head, taking a few calming breaths to regain herself. "No, they've always been the ones to do this, it's not fair."

Jaime was trying to study her. She knew what he wanted to tell her, now she was just waiting to see if he would say it.

"Fine, but you can do it tomorrow. There's still one more day left," he said, firmly.

She knew he didn't mean it to sound hopeful, and just the fact that he didn't hurt.

He extended both hands to pull her up, and she let him, feeling his hands warmly close around hers.

He lightly brushed her wet cheeks with the back of his knuckles.

"Hey," he gave her a lopsided smile, "I think it's time to come out of the closet."

She gave him a light shove, she almost wanted to laugh.

He grabbed ahold of her fists and brought it up to his chin. For a wild moment she thought he would kiss them.

He peeked up at her, pretending to be coy. "I found a cool vampire lounge I can sneak you into tonight," he winked.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I think your getting me confused with Lily Cheng."

Jaime smiled wider. "I'm pretty sure I know the difference between Lady Killer Cheng and Drusilla the Goth Queen."

Her smile faded as quickly as it came when she heard a small creak of a closing door. She looked above her head at the stairway, and frowned.

Tavvy had been reacting to Ty's disappearance differently. Of course, Dru didn't really know what she expected. He had always behaved younger than what he was, especially in the face of tragedy. Dru had worried that maybe all the early trauma had somehow damaged him. But he was ten now, and acted like any other ten year old as far she could tell. But unlike how when Livvy died he would have bouts of disbelieving or bargaining to just pretending nothing was wrong, this time Tavvy looked exhausted with grief, like the thoughts alone were heavy weights dragging him down. Every now and then she would catch him sneaking into Ty's room. She hadn't said anything, she wasn't sure that she should.

"Not tonight," she said, distantly.

"Later then," Jaime said, a whisper tugging at her thoughts.

She counted the flecks of amber in his brown eyes, little flecks of gold honey, like his voice. His words were smooth with soft a spanish accent, as he whispered a quick reminder of their later plans, just like his touch as he pulled his hands out of hers.

He left her staring up at her brothers room.

When Jaime left she suddenly felt unsteady on her own feet, like she might trip or stumble without him. She had to restrain herself to reach out and ask him to stay with her. But she knew she couldn't, Jaime wasn't a safety blanket, or a crutch. In fact, she was pretty sure he would hate it if she asked him to stay with her all the time.

Jaime wasn't like that, he couldn't be held down.

But she didn't need Jaime to be there for her family, even if she still wanted him there.

She climbed back up the steps after Tavvy, cracking open the door to stand at the entrance of the room.

Tavvy's back was turned towards her as he examined Ty's old bookshelf.

Like most things in Ty's room, the books were organized in Ty's own specific way. They weren't categorized by genre or alphabetical order like someone might expect. The rest of his room was like that too, his favorite things might be closer to his desk and the furniture and objects were arranged to where his least favorite colors were furthest out of the way.

Dru remembered once giving him a really cool dragon skull replica, it was even anatomically labeled. She had been upset when she found it stuffed on one of his bottom bookshelves like an afterthought until Livvy explained he was just organizing it by color.

As she hovered in the doorway she found she didn't know what to say to her little brother.

Ty had been scarce ever since their sister died, keeping to himself or even traveling to places like the Scholomance or other Institutes to prepare for his big case. Dru had a special relationship with Tavvy, feeling more responsible for him because of the time she had spent babysitting him. But he was older and had needed her less and less, and Dru found herself struggling to figure out what role she played in his life now.

"Tavvy?" She said gently.

He didn't answer, instead he picked up one of the books from the shelves. It was a mystery novel Julian had bought Ty when he was abroad with Emma.

"I know these are organized somehow, but I don't understand how," he said, not looking at her.

She went to stand next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder. "His favorites are closest to eye level and nearest to the bed," she pointed out.

Tavvy looked up at the top shelf. "But why is Sherlock all the way up there, then?"

Dru had noticed that too, years ago.

Her throat closed up as she thought of her brother putting away his favorite books and packing his bags.

"That's...That's because he was upset when Kit left. You remember Kit don't you?"

He nodded, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "I remember he left and he's the reason Ty stayed behind in Faerie."

"It's not Kit's fault," she tried to tell him, "he cared about Ty." She could tell he wasn't listening though.

She had been worried this would happen. He had already lost so many people, but at least there had been people to blame, Sebastian, the Clave, Annabel. But Tavvy didn't have a lot of memories of Kit, so it must have been easy to think he must be the one to blame this time.

She looked at her brother. He had grown up so much in just three short years, he was already standing just short of her shoulders. His green beanie was the same bright color his eyes were today, with brown curls messily pressed against his face.

"When was the last time you saw Max and Rafael? I can take you to see them if you want?" She offered, remembering they were a huge source of comfort to him when Livvy died.

Tavvy placed the book back on the shelf, his expression was even angrier now. She was starting to suspect he found that easier than to be depressed. "I don't need to tell them what's going on, they already know. Besides, Max has been pretty sensitive about death recently."

"That's not what I…" She trailed off as Tavvy started to leave.

She struggled to find something to say as she called out to him again. "Tavvy!"

He lingered at the doorway for her.

"If-if you want to talk or make sandcastle we can-"

"I want to go see what Julian is doing," he cut her off.

He didn't close the door on he as he left but she felt like it was slammed right in her face.

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It had been a long time since Jem had worn the cloak of his former brotherhood, but today as he once again walked the cobbled road to the London Shadow Market he donned the robes of the Silent City. Because today he didn't only want to be recognized as James Carstairs but Brother Zachariah as well. The silent brother who had visited countless markets and helped downworlders. He needed them to remember because now he was the one who needed help.

The London Shadow Market was in many ways, as it had always been. In the very same place as his first visit nearly a century ago, with even many of the same colorful stalls ran by the very same colorful people.

Jem spared a glance at his companion as they approached the stalls.

Jace was wearing full gear, his expression clear and curious as he regarded the scenery. It was only the tension in his muscles and the way his golden eyes darted warily that told the truth.

"If anyone will have information it will be she," he reassured him.

"She's been trying to give us the slip at every Market and downworlder establishment we've visited. She has to know something, Jem," Jace gave him a kind look.

It took him by surprise to find he was the one trying to comfort him now.

He couldn't help but still treat Jace as a child, maybe in part because of how young he was when they first met or because of how much he looked like Kit. But it was times like these that reminded him how much Jace had grown.

Kit had grown too. He had matured into a man in his own right, from the unsure and lost boy he was. It had been one of the great privileges of his life to watch him come into his own and become the person he was.

Jem had been so proud, they all had been.

He had hoped he had told him that enough, but he knew better than most that you never told someone you loved them enough.

Jace wandered over to a young werewolf who was selling fresh rabbit feet charms, and by the looks of the other wares (fresh venison and rabbit haunches) they were indeed fresh. Jace leaned on the counter making the werewolf lean away from him as if he was allergic to the smell of Nephilim.

"Have you seen a teenager that looks a lot like me but less chiseled and more angsty?"

The werewolf snarled, his lips curling over pointed teeth. "Get off my stall, Shadowhunter."

"He has less interesting generic blue eyes instead of my stunningly enchanting gold eyes."

Jem raced to his side before the werewolf flipped the table on top of him.

Placing a hand on Jace's shoulder he addressed the man, "please, were looking for a boy, he's missing."

"Shadow Markets don't do business with Shadowhunters, missing or otherwise," he said. "I suggest you ask one of the local Institutes."

"Have you heard anything about Riders the color of bronze? They might be mistaken for the Wild Hunt."

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his robes. "Wait, you used to be Silent Brother, weren't you? I've heard of you."

Jem smiled. "I was, I was once called Brother Zachariah."

"Wait, how does someone stop being a Silent Brother?" His eyes flicked up to Jem's open eyes and unstitched mouth.

He gave Jace a smile of gratitude before he answered, "Well, when you live long enough you find that things don't end so much as they do come full circle."

"Right…" the werewolf trailed off, clearly not knowing what to make of that. "I don't know anything about bronze riders, but I have heard of some strange Faeries asking around."

He looked around nervously before leaning in closer. "I've heard they're looking for someone, and they aren't exactly looking to cut deals, so hopefully they won't show up here."

Jem gripped Jace's shoulder before he could continue to press him. "Thank you for your time. If you hear anything please let us know, I will be around."

They left the stall leaving the werewolf to stare grumpily back at them.

"Why did you think to ask him about Kit?" Jem asked.

Jace shrugged, "They're about the same age, we've been tracking down Johnny Rook's old associates and found nothing. I figured if Kit might start making his own connections."

Jem didn't say anything, he didn't know how likely it was that Kit was somewhere in the mundane world. He didn't want to think that if he was in trouble that he wouldn't come to him and Tessa, though he had to admit that if the Riders were chasing him it was a possibility that Kit wouldn't want to involve them.

What they did know was that Julian's search into Faerie had so far turned up nothing.

But he didn't believe that meant Kit was truly dead, as he reminded Tessa, he reminded himself that if he was then there would be no need for the Riders.

Jem caught sight of a purple stall with chicken feet scrambling away from a woman with hair like dandelion fluff who wasn't paying attention as she gave a piece of candy to a small vampire child.

"That's her, that's who we have come for," he whispered to Jace.

Jace's attention snapped to her like the crack of a whip. He started to pull out one of the many blades he kept on him as his gaze fell on the small child she was feeding.

Jem moved to stop him. "She won't hurt a child, he is in no danger from her."

Jace sheathed his weapon but his gaze was still just as sharp. "I never understood who thought it was a good idea to make child vampires, who's paying for daycare for eternity?"

The child scuttled away with alarm he saw the two Shadowhunters approach, looming over the small woman.

Her bright green eyes regarded him with great distaste as she looked up to see him.

"Mother Hawthorn, I have some questions for you."

"I have already told you everything there is to know. Storytime is over, James Carstairs."

She made to go after her stall but Jem stepped in front of her. "You're mistaken if you think I'm asking."

She looked up at him angrily, her face was as red as an old apple. "I don't think you have the authority to threaten me since you turned your back on your Clave."

Jace stepped back into her view, casually pulling out one of his swords and smiling at the glares he was getting from some of the other Market goers. "He might not have, but as Head of the New York Institute, I think I have that covered." His eyes turned cold as the smile left his lips. "We're not letting you get away from us this time."

She turned her accusatory look back on Jem. "You wouldn't."

"You should know the lengths a parent would go through to protect their child, and I don't need the Claves support for that," He said sternly.

"And what would I know of your child," she spat.

"You would know of Auraline's heir." He said. "I believe even now you have been keeping an eye out, listening to know what became of her descendants."

Her eyes widened in surprise before turning back into a sour grimace. "I know what happened, she became enchanted by that magician and gave birth to his cursed offspring. And each child had even worse taste and made even worse decisions. I have been listening, but each story is the same ending with the spilling of my sweet Auraline's blood."

"Have you heard anything recently? Have you heard anything about Chrisopher Herondale?" Jem urged.

"And what do I care what happens to a Herondale? It is that family that brought ruin to Auraline." She tried to bat him away, expecting him to move as she tried to push her way to her stall.

Jem didn't, instead he grabbed the woman's shoulders and leaned down to meet her at eye level. "But you did care for Auraline, and he is as much her blood as he is Roland Herondale's."

Her wild expression as she met his eyes added to her flora like appearance. She was like a dandelion trying to hide in a garden.

He didn't know if it was possible to get through to her, Jem had lived a long time, and in that time he had met many people who would rather waste their days on grudges and regrets rather than spending it on compassion. In his experience those gifted with longer life held onto things the strongest, afraid of what they might forget if they let go.

He had chosen to hold onto love and hope to get through his unnaturally long years, but Mother Hawthorn was as bitter as strychnine.

"And this is a boy your asking of? Not some Shadowhunter busy body patrolling our Markets and threatening to brand his enemies?" She shot a glare at Jace.

Jace looked like she had insulted him. Jem understood feeling a slight against one's parabatai's judgment personally. Unfortunately, Jace could not fight every ill opinion of Alec or the decisions he made as Consul.

"We're not branding downworlders, it's only the few people of Thule. All of that and the extra patrols is to protect downworlders," Jace said.

Her lips curled into a bitter sneer. "If this new Clave is so willing to turn on their own, then why would downworlders think you wouldn't turn on them too?"

Jace had turned pale, he wanted to argue but it was clear he didn't know how.

It was a decision no one had wanted to make, but even Alec had to defer to the will of the Council. It was times like these that Jem had regretted his decision to stop being a Shadowhunter. By forfeiting his right as a member of the Clave he also forfeited his right to vote on legislation.

He had been sure when he made the decision. He served the Clave as a Silent Brother for several lives, and sacrificed much. Now it was time to rest and gain back the life that had been stolen from him when he was just a small boy in Shanghai.

It made even more sense when he had Kit and Will, children changed everything, and all that Jem cared about was making sure he was there for them, and giving them the choice to choose whatever life they wanted for themselves.

He never wanted to fight as a Shadowhunter without Will, that was the promise they had made as parabatai, but just like a part of his heart will always belong with his brother, a part of him will always be a Shadowhunter.

"He is still a boy, more than he would like to admit it," Jem said, gaining back her attention. "A boy that grew up with downworlders in a Shadow Markets just like this one."

Mother Hawthorne looked over at her stall, her eyes shining brightly as she did. "She always loved the Markets, the downworlders and mundanes and the beautiful things she saw there."

Jem exchanged a look with Jace.

"Is that why you come to the Markets?"

She let out a loud sniff and pulled herself from Jem's grasp. "I sometimes think that if I had gone with her and saw what she did, then maybe she would not have left me."

"When he first came to live with me, I took him to a Market and watched as he smiled like he had gone home. I do not believe that people are only what is in their blood, but I do believe that those we love leave behind something of themselves in those that come after them," Jem told her kindly.

She let out a sigh, "I will tell you what I've heard, but they are only rumours and they won't be anything to your liking."

Jem almost reached out and grabbed her again, instead he forced himself to keep his composure. "Tell me, please. What have you heard."

She moved past him, this time Jem allowed her to get to her stall. She gave it a kick, the small chicken legs promptly sat itself down. She leaned on her counter, waiting for them to gather around her like she was preparing to tell them a story.

"I take it you have heard of the reappearance of the Riders of Manann?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Jace answered to her displeasure.

"They are looking for the First Heir still, that much is true."

"What isn't true then?" Jace demanded impatiently. He had been more patient than Jem could expect, but the strain was clearly waiting to break.

Jem didn't have the emotional capacity to try to reel in his impatience as he waited for what she had to say with growing dread.

"What I have heard is that the First Heir has come from Thule and that is who they are searching for."

"There's a Kit from Thule and that is who they are searching for.." Jace trailed off. "You make it sound like-"

"The child you seek is dead."

Jem closed his eyes.

It is not what they came here to hear.

To Jem it had all made sense as to why he had been the one to hear of this lineage, this secret Herondale that needed to be protected when he first brought Kit home. He was not given the information by chance or to protect the Herondales or save Rosemary, he was meant to find a son.

His son who disappeared just like his ancestors before him, leading Jem on a frantic search throughout downworld.

But he could not find it in himself to accept what she was telling him. He had only accepted to join the Blackthorns in declaring their children dead from missing because Tessa thought Kit deserved better then for them to go on without acknowledging his absence. It was more than that too. Tessa was not able to be there when her children died, and it was a regret she still carried with her, Jem would not have her suffer the loss of another child like that.

But he had never stopped looking, he couldn't help the feeling in his chest that Kit was still out there needing his help.

He could not shake it, and he did not want to accept that he might be wrong.

"Excuse me," he whispered as he abruptly made to leave, pushing past bystanders and Market goers alike to steal himself away down an empty alley.

Jem slumped against the wall, gasping a ragged breath as he tried to control himself. He wasn't the only one in pain, Jace and Tessa would be just as distraught, and he couldn't even begin to think of explaining to his little Will what happened to his big brother.

The thought alone made him hang his head in his hands.

He had failed them, his Tessa, Will, and most importantly, he failed Kit.

"Jem.."

It was Jace, he had ducked into the alley after him, all of his bravado and carefree airs was gone. Instead Jem could see the first hints of age on his face and soulful eyes of a young man who had seen too much loss too young.

He had always regretted not being able to help him when he was younger, there were so many back when he was a Silent Brother Jem wished he could have cared enough to help.

Kit had grown up to look so much like Jace, but Jem had wished to do for him what he couldn't for Jace and Tessa's children and keep as much sadness from his eyes as he could.

Jem turned away from the face that reminded him too much of what he lost, and looked at the grey skies of London. A place that had once been his home, and one of many he left too soon, but if he looked at the sky he could almost imagine he was anywhere at any point in time.

"I promised to keep him safe, I promised his mother I would protect what was most precious to us."

Jace stayed where he was, unsure of what to do.

Jem felt ashamed, he shouldn't be putting his burdens on a child who was also in pain. But even though Jem was much older with more experience in loss then most, he was finding this one harder to accept.

"Kit became a Shadowhunter because he didn't want to be protected, he wanted to protect himself," Jace said. "As soon as he decided to fight no one could guarantee anything, he knew that."

"Because he is brave, but he was also mine to protect." Jem to turned to look at Jace to find him looking away. His hands clenched into fist and his eyes burning embers. Jem was reminded of the righteous heavenly fire that had flowed from him to save Jem, and the fire that almost killed them but instead freed his Emma and Julian.

Angels burned brightest when things were the most dire. Jem sometimes believed that was why the Angel had made them weaker compared to demons, it was the struggle that made them great.

And to be a Shadowhunter was to struggle.

"You can't always protect the ones you care about, you've got to teach them to protect themselves. It's what I did for Clary, I can't go with her to every fight or hold her back, I just have to believe I did everything I could for her. I know that's what you did for Kit too."

Jem felt himself smile just a fraction from the kindness Jace had given him. Once again this boy had found a way to comfort him instead, just like when they first met and that scared grieving child thought to smile at a Silent Brother.

Jem pulled himself off the wall and placed his hands on Jace's shoulders. "Thank you, for just now, for today, and for helping me everytime that you have." For now Jem would try to take comfort that no matter what had happened he knew Kit had made his own decisions, and he would always be proud of him.

And he hoped he knew he was loved.

Jace nodded, "It's time I get back to Clary, we told the Blackthorns we would be there today and we should tell what we learned." His face darkened considerably as another cloud passed over and the intensity in his voice sparked. "I don't know what it means if she is telling the truth about there being another Kit, but this isn't over, there is more going on here."

Jem silently agreed, he knew he had to deal with the consequences of another First Heir but it was too much to consider right now. For now he would go home and grieve with his family, what they would do next he didn't know.

But Jem knew he would still hope.

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Dru wore a long black dress with a leather jacket that was too big for her to cover up her gear as she prepared to head out the Institute and onto the beach. Most everyone had switched out patrols or had their own missions they were preparing to leave on now that the sun was getting ready to set. So, Dru was flying through the Institute to head out the back door without much concern of having to explain herself to anyone when she ran into Cristina in the kitchen.

She looked like she had just woken up. She was wearing a loose T-shirt that fell down her shoulder and pajama shorts. Her hair and skin though were as perfect as they always were.

Dru always marveled at how effortlessly beautiful she always was, it always made her feel like she must be doing something wrong if it came so much easier for her then it did for Dru.

She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, looking over at her, startled by how fast she was going down the hall.

She glanced at her outfit and seemed to have a knowing look but didn't say anything.

It wasn't exactly a big secret what she had been doing, but it was a sort of quiet agreement not to talk about it.

Instead of asking her where she was going, Cristina held out her mug to Dru, "I just made coffee if you would like some," she offered.

"No thanks," she declined before looking around to the empty foyer. "You haven't seen Jaime, have you?"

Her smile faltered as she set down her mug. "He disappeared again. But you know how he is, he'll come back soon."

Dru nodded, it made her uneasy, always wishing he was here when he was gone, but she wasn't worried.

She grabbed ahold of the seashell necklace Jaime had given her when they returned home.

Because it was Jaime, and he always came back to her.

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She closed the kitchen door behind her, leaving sliding glass between her and Cristina. She gave her one last encouraging smile before turning back around and pretending there was solid wood between them.

Dru breathed a sigh of relief that she avoided another conversation as the door clicked shut until a voice from behind her spoke, startling her.

"Is there somewhere you need to be?"

Dru couldn't help but jump at the sound of her sisters voice. She turned to Helen, feeling completely off guard. "Yes actually, so I should probably go do that."

"Dru, you don't have to tell me, I just wanted to talk to you," she said softly.

She sounded like she was trying so hard to reach her, Dru couldn't help but be reminded of herself trying to reach Tavvy.

"I'm here." She turned towards her sister.

Helen took a step towards her, brushing Dru's hair back before pulling her into a tight hug.

"Mom and dad would be so proud of you," she said.

Helen was always telling her how much she looked like her mother. She knew that Elenaor Blackthorn had meant alot to Helen even though she wasn't biologically her mother, but Dru barely remembered her anymore. She did remember their dad though, she still missed him. But more than anything when she thought of her father she couldn't help but wonder what he would think if he saw what happened to their family. If he would be proud or if he would be sad at what had happened to them.

"I mean it," Helen cupped her face as Dru tried to turn away. "You have become so strong, you went to Faerie and saved Mark and Cristina, even now your trying to do what you think is right."

Dru suddenly pulled away. "But you don't think I am doing what's right."

Helen bit her lip. "I'm just worried, when dad was in Faerie he was enchanted to think he never even loved my mother. You only had yourself to rely on, you were all alone, things might not have happened like you remembered it-"

Dru was furious. "I remember what happened," she cut her off.

"But you said he could bend people's will, I don't want you to risk anything else to protect someone if they hurt you."

"Ash didn't enchant me, Helen, he's not like your mother!" She snapped.

Helen flinched away and Dru instantly regretted what she said.

"I didn't mean that," she said quickly, "I just don't want to talk about this, okay?"

She hugged her arms around her, she didn't want to be mad at Helen. It was all starting to remind her of when Livvy had died, and Dru was forced to remember that Ty was gone now too.

"All I wanted to say is that none of this is your fault. You don't need to fix anything." Helen said.

Dru hid her face away from her sister. She would never know just how much of it was her fault, she refused to tell anyone everything that had happened, but it must have been written all over her face that she was haunted.

"I thought I could save them, I really thought things would be okay," she whispered.

"Oh Dru," Helen pulled her into another hug, and this time Dru buried her face into her shoulder, letting the pressure of pressing her face against her keep her from crying.

"Don't ever doubt your heart, I know it will always be in the right place," she told her.

Dru buried back all of the insecurities she had been fighting that threatened to bubble back to the surface. "I don't even know how to be there for Tavvy anymore. We used to be so close, and now he's acting like...well, it's like how I treated you when you first came back." She admitted instead of admitting that she wasn't sure she wasn't making another big mistake, that she had desperately been trying to take back the mistake of leaving Ash behind, and how she didn't even know anymore that it wasn't a mistake to ever give herself up to go with him to begin with. Maybe they could have fought their way out instead, then she never would have had to hurt Ash, she would have never been separated from the others, and Kit never would have felt obligated to become King to save her.

She didn't dare say it outloud, she just let the poison build as she held it back like bile pooling in the back of her throat waiting to enter her bloodstream.

"I know you weren't ready for me to come back and be a big sister to you. I wanted to be there for you but I realized you had to come to terms with everything on your own first. I think Tavvy is trying to be strong for himself, and maybe we need to let him before he's ready to let us back in," Helen said.

Dru understood, even if she didn't like the idea of leaving Tavvy alone either. But grief had a way of isolating you, making you feel alone even when there were plenty of people around you sharing in that same pain.

She knew because even with her sister's arms around her, or Julian softly rustling her hair as put on a fake smile at dinner, or Mark's honest words, Dru still felt alone.

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Jaime didn't so much as open the door as he did pick it up and prop it back in place as he stepped inside the shabby little hole in the wall. There was a dingy little light that swung back in forth casting uneven shadows and light across the room. There was a small bar and a few porch tables and folded chairs a few rough looking guys were sitting and playing Go Fish.

A woman looked up from the obnoxiously colorful pinball game she was playing to glare at Jaime, that is until he gave her a wink. Her glare turned into a smug smile, flashing teeth in as much amusement as it was a threat.

He was reminded not to tease Carmen so much if he wanted to keep his limbs attached.

He walked up to the bar and immediately set his elbows up to lean on the counter.

"Hey Sig," he addressed the extremely tall burly man behind the counter.

He had thick dark hair and hairy arms with yellow eyes that watched Jaime with suspicion.

"I take it you're here to blackmail me into letting you use the back room again?" He said in his usual gruff voice.

Jaime smiled innocently, "It's not blackmail, you're just so grateful to me for solving that little vampire dispute for you."

"And yet you come here so often to spend our gratitude I'm beginning to suspect you set it up," he grumbled, but still tossed him the keys.

Jaime let the keys dangle as he looked down at them. "Now does that sound like something a Shadowhunter would do?"

"That better be a rhetorical question," he huffed. He picked up a glass which looked comically small in his big hands and filled it with straight vodka before tossing it back.

"You don't have to do that everytime I come in here," Jaime frowned.

"Oh, but I do," Sig let out a long sigh, exhaling a breath of alcohol right in Jaime's face.

He decided to get to business and leave Sig alone before he inevitably made him drink the whole bar and put himself out of business.

Unlocking the back door he found himself alone with a familiar face sitting at one of those old tables that looked ripped out of a diner and placed in the back of a well used smoke room.

Rayan Maduabuchi sat straight up with his fingers laced together looking completely out of place against the tattered ripped material his back leaned against in his freshly pressed buttoned shirt.

"Stop smiling like that Jaime, you're making me feel like I've already made a mistake," he sighed.

Jaime let the smile slide from his face as he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure many would agree with you that meeting me in a run down bar off the corner of nowhere is probably a bad idea."

"About that, did you have to choose a werewolf bar?" He said, casting a disgusted look about the place.

"Why? Have something against downworlders, Maduabuchi?" Jaime glowered.

Rayan gave him a withering look, and motioned to the seat next to him that was spilling stuffing. "I have a problem with the furniture."

"Well not everything can have the comforting Dracula aesthetic like the Scholomance does," Jaime threw himself in the seat across from him.

Rayan rubbed his temples, "I don't even know why I agreed to meet with you."

"Obviously, because you want to help me."

"What makes you so sure I'm going to help you?" Rayan asked.

"Easy, because you like me," Jaime answered cheerily.

He raised an exasperated eyebrow. "I'll help you, Jaime, only because your Diego's little brother and I like him."

"It's always really flattering when I'm referred to as Diego's little brother."

"People might consider flattering you more if you cause less trouble for them," He hinted.

"Not a chance," he smiled back.

Rayan rubbed his face like the conversation was already taxing him. "As for the question you sent me, the Book of the White does deal with spells that prolong life whereas the Black Volume deals in necromancy. But that alone does not make the book of the White the antithesis of the Black Volume."

"Still, there might be something that could undo the spells done by the Black Volume," Jaime said, thinking out loud.

"That," Rayan began, "Would be a question for the current owner of the Book of the White."

Jaime perked up, "do you know who that is?"

Rayan gave him a measured look like he was deciding how much trouble Jaime could get in with that information. "Officially, no one. It's been lost to the ages."

Jaime started to scowl before Rayan continued.

"But unofficially, it's been rumoured to be in the hands of Magnus Bane."

Jaime flopped back in his chair. "Great, how am I supposed to get access to the spells without getting Magnus or his husband involved?"

Rayan put his hands on his knees looking very much like he was getting ready to scold him. "You don't. You can either tell Magnus what your plan is and hand it over for Clave approval or you forget about it."

Jaime continued to sit dramatically in the chair and held up a finger in complaint. "Not an option. Dru won't agree to a plan that will kill Ash. She thinks he could still have a change of heart. She can't know, and neither can the Clave."

"Your risking a lot of lives just so you don't make your girlfriend angry," Rayan said seriously.

Jaime had to crack a half amused smile at that, "guess I'm not so much like Diego in that regard."

"Diego did the right thing regardless of the sacrifice, and so did you." He reminded him so sincerely it made Jaime falter.

"Yeah, well I want to believe Dru is right, but in case she isn't we need something that can disable Sebastian's little weapon." Jaime straightened back up.

Rayan sighed, "Well the Scholomance can't help you. I know of the book but there are no replicas of its contents, at least that's what the Scholomance wants the Spiral Labyrinth to believe."

Jaime leaned forward with interest.

"So, no. There are no copies." Rayan made clear the limits of the help he was willing to give.

Jaime slammed back in the booth.

"So, I have to come up with a plan to get the actual book then," Jaime said in a low voice as he considered what the implications of what he was suggesting where.

Rayan looked alarmed, "By the angel Jaime, you can't seriously be thinking of stealing from the High Warlock of Brooklyn- the husband of the Consul?"

As much as Jaime enjoyed the reaction, he figured he should deny anything that could implicate him in a crime before he decided to rat him out to Diego. "All I really need is a warlock that has read the book, someone must have owned it before Magnus."

Rayan calmed down, but Jaime could tell he was still skeptical of what he was saying. "If any are alive, I doubt they would tell you since Downworlder ownership of either spell book is strictly prohibited."

It was times like this Jaime wished Kit was around. For one thing, Jaime had a feeling he would side with him on this. Kit also had the connections and knowledge of Downworld that could lead to what Jaime wanted.

He forced the thought out of his head. Kit was probably dead as far as he knew, Ty too. So there was no point thinking about it and just focused on what he needed to do.

He didn't want to believe it, but at this point they had been gone so long, stuck in the city of their enemies and the blood relations to the people hunting for him. It made it unlikely they were still out there.

Tomorrow was the day they would put up the white banners and declare them officially dead in the eyes of the Clave. All official searches would stop and the bodies would never be recovered to join the City of Bones.

Jaime didn't think Kit would mind forfeiting his sentence of servitude in the afterlife but he couldn't help but feel like it was a different story for Ty. Ty who had been protected from the Clave all of his life, always told he wasn't good enough to serve in life was now denied to serve in death and join the city of his ancestors. The more Jaime thought about that the more he got mad. If one thing ever riled him for better or worse it was his family, their legacy, and their futures. As Shadowhunters, that was where their bodies belonged.

A spasm ran through his arm, snaking around his bones and weaving itself into his tendons. He managed to grab his arm and pull it under the table just as fingers began to reflexively jerk.

"Is there something wrong with your arm?" Rayan asked in concern.

"It's nothing," he grunted.

"If it's nothing then why are you hiding it? Let me see, maybe I can help.."

Jaime grabbed his wrist with his good hand before he could reach across the table.

"I said it was nothing," he growled before throwing his hand back.

Rayan withdrew his arm, rubbing his wrist where Jaime had grabbed him. "Jaime, if there is something I can actually help you with, tell me."

But he stood up, facing his body towards the door to hide his arm. "The tip is good enough, I'll take care of the rest." He turned towards him one last time just before he exited. "I'm guessing it's too much for me to ask that you don't tell Diego about any of this?"

Rayan studied him, and Jaime could tell he was seeing right through him. He was never very good at keeping his expression neutral, he was always quick to react, even to the small things.

"How about this, I'll give you a head start."

"That's more than I expected, honestly."

He shook his head, giving his arm another look of concern. "Just don't let it be more than you deserve."

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Jaime tried to get out of there as fast as he could. His arm was calming down, it wasn't that bad this time, and it probably wouldn't get worse unless something else happened to agitate the curse. All he had to do was make it home and keep his head down for a little while.

He was just thinking this when two other people left one of the other locked rooms Sig sold his keys to. A neatly well dressed mundane in his thirties speaking with a younger man with wispy blonde hair that Jaime recognized after a double take.

It was Elias Lindquist, he must have been from Thule because he distinctly remembered that he was supposed to be dead.

At first he assumed Dru had sent one of Livvy's Rebels looking for him and was about to approach him when he realized that his left hand bore no tattoos, no branding from Thule.

Jaime jumped behind the counter at the moment their eyes met. Elias didn't hesitate either as he pulled out his revolver and let out a shot that sang past Sig and found its home in the pinball machine.

The glass shattered loudly as sparks exploded from the machine. Carmen fell back in a yelp of surprise. Her fangs grew and talons extended as she turned to face the shooter in a crouch, until she noticed the runes on his arms.

The other two werewolves paused their card game but looked otherwise unconcerned.

Jaime grabbed a glass from the shelf and chucked it at Elias.

He met the glass mid air with a bullet.

He sat back behind the counter trying to come up with a plan. He wasn't used to carrying a gun with him and had completely forgotten it at home. Shadowhunters were being commissioned military standard firearms to combat the Cohort who succeeded in a few small scale victories by taking them by surprise with firearms.

Dru's information that the Cohort had yet to find alternative sources of adamas was useful in determining that they must have made deals to use firearms in their place. Shadowhunters didn't use firearms, but that didn't mean they were more immune to bullets than any other human. To make sure they weren't vulnerable they also needed to be just as effective with the long ranged weapons.

But Jaime just had Durendal, a shelf full of shot glasses, and a room full of werewolves who were too desensitized to this daily occurrence to care enough to help.

Jaime peeked over the counter to get a good look at the mundane Elias was with, and saw he was wearing an interesting cuff link of a two headed snake eating its tail.

His eyes widened, knowing he recognized it from somewhere, just as another shot ran out hitting the bar just where Jaime's face had been seconds earlier. The wood splintered sending wood chips and dust into the air.

The mundane was almost out the door when Rayan came flying out of the room, dodging Elias' bullets and hoping on top of the table were the werewolves were playing Go Fish.

"Oh come on!" One of them complained loudly as the cards on the table went flying. "There goes my three of a kind!"

"For the last time we ain't playing poker Jon!" The other craned his neck around Rayan to yell.

"Bullshit!"

"We ain't playing bullshit either!"

"Don't let the mundane get away!" Jaime yelled, throwing another glass right at the door the mundane was reaching for.

He reeled back, and Rayan didn't waste any time as he jumped from the table to the bar, running across throwing one of his chakrams at Elia's gun before diving for the mundane.

Elias' line of sight was compromised when he was forced to dodge the chakram, but not for long as he lined back up for a shot right at Rayan's back.

Jaime swore under his breath as he took one last wistful look at his arm before throwing himself back over the counter and kicking Elias in the back of his head.

The gun went off before being sent flying.

Rayan turned around at the sound of the shot and the mundane doubled back for Elias, taking ahold of his coat, he lifted his hand and twisted the silver ring on his hand.

And then they were gone.

"That was the Cohort," Rayan turned to everyone, his chest rising and falling heavily. "The ones trying to eradicate Downworlders. You could have helped us."

"This bar is on neutral ground, mate, we let people do their business no questions asked," the werewolf playing the wrong game answered.

"Yeah, and I'm sure they would have left you a big tip when they were done with the place," Jaime said.

Sig at least looked phased by that, and Carmen's arms were shaking, her talons yet to retreat.

Jaime walked up to the slightly stunned bartender and without saying a word grabbed the drink from his hand and downed it before slamming it back down on the counter before walking out.

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He didn't waste any time putting the bar behind him, ducking down allies and and cutting through patios and porches to make sure Rayan couldn't follow him. All the while his arm throbbed while something inside withered and rived under his skin. He felt the razor sharp edges tear open his skin, feeling even heavier. He almost collapsed from the pain when he finally slide beside a dumpster behind some restaurant.

He finally looked at his arm, bloody and torn apart by the green thorns like the kind from a rose bush pushed itself out of his arm.

Jaime sucked the air in his teeth as he gingerly held his arm still from shaking, pulling out a small knife from his boot.

The naga had done something to him that night, placed something in his body to curse him. At this point he had enough experience to know he couldn't let it spread any further. If he left it alone it would spread throughout his body, and each time it happened it grew faster and more wild.

He tore of the sleeve of his jacket and stuffed it in his mouth and bit down. He steadied his knife, leveling the point at the open wound the jagged thorns were peeking out of. Just the touch of the tip of the knife on his skin was enough to send waves of pain up his arm. He tried to take a deep breath through his nose, almost coughing it out as he gaged at the stench next to him. The concrete he sat on was cold for L.A. and above him he could see pink streaked skies as the sun began to die. He could hear cars pass down the road and the chatter of passersby on the sidewalk he was hidden from.

Everything around him buzzed with life at the heart of the City he was in, but in this alley he was completely alone.

The heel of his boots dug into the concrete as he forced himself to prepare for another long night.

He bit down harder and closed his eyes before plunging the knife in deep.

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Dru let her witchlight light up the mouth of the cave. Everytime she came here it looked as inviting as it did in the dream she had of it. It wasn't the last time she dreamed of the cave Ragnor Fell had once occupied and refused to perform the ritual to bring back her sister. As the day drew closer that they would announce her brother as dead, she found herself standing here in her sleep every night.

The cave whispered to her secrets and words she couldn't understand. Sometimes she would try to enter the cave and it would bring her to strange places like Lake Lynn or the dungeons under the Seelie palace.

Once it took her to a place she had never seen before. It was larger than any cathedral and lit up by green light that illuminated endless hidden rooms and caverns.

But tonight she was still awake and she could pass through the entrance and reach the small passageway that lead to a hollow cavern. She had done this numerous times but there was always something unnerving about it. She reached up to touch Phaesphoros that was strapped to her back, feeling the cool metal of the hilt and the stars she knew patterned the blade. She brought it with her wherever she went, out of equal fear that it would be stolen and the sense of ease it brought her when she fought with it.

She knew everyone else saw Sebastian Morgenstern's blade, but to her it would always be Ash's, and as she fought she chose to believe she was fighting alongside him rather than against him.

She followed the short turns until the passage opened up. A few candles set on the rock ledges to light up the place. An assortment of chairs scattered on the dirt floor where the majority of Livvy's Rebels sat, or leaned against cave walls as they waited for her to take her seat at the desk at the far end.

Dru didn't sit at the desk, instead she chose to place her hand on the wood and awkwardly stand beside it.

No one spoke so she cleared her throat a little too loudly, placing a hand over her mouth to cover it up. "I'm assuming the plan didn't work since you're back already, Cara." She addressed the young woman with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose.

"It did for Zeke, at least I think it did. We got separated, but I couldn't find the entrance like he did." She admitted, her face looked troubled like her journey had brought her even more personal unease.

There was no telling where the Shattered Forest might have thought to take her. Dru was just relieved that she found her way bag, not everyone would.

Dru felt for her, but now wasn't the time to talk to talk about that. "I'm glad the branding wasn't for nothing,"

Many of the others didn't seem to share in her relief, however, and stared at the walls bitterly. She looked at their hands, each branded with a symbol that looked much like the symbol for infinity, representing the immortal soul. No one liked the idea of the branding, but once Jaime had told her how to enter Lyonesse you must be living in exile. It got Dru thinking that maybe being branded like an outcast would be enough to set them apart from the Clave for them to enter Lyonesse.

"And Jude, you didn't make it back to the extraction team in time, did you?" She asked Jude Aldertree, who was standing with them instead of leaving through a portal with the members of the Cohort he had been deceiving.

He scowled, stretching the scars on his face. "I didn't make it back to the rendezvous point in time. But my cover would be blown with this branding either way."

The room didn't collectively sigh, but there was obvious pause of hopelessness among everyone. Everyone was battle worn and tired. They were restless, trying to reclaim a world that wasn't theirs to avenge their own, and desperately searching to find where they belonged here.

She didn't know why she was the one standing in front of them all, promising she would help them find the answers she didn't even know where to begin to find.

But she was searching too, for redemption, for some path to lead her to absolve herself of all her mistakes.

"There has to be something more we can do? We can't just sit around waiting for them to attack," Avan blurted out.

"Many of us have been sent away to different Institutes, and with Zeke using the only item that would allow us to enter Faerie without being affected by the time change doesn't leave us with many options.." She was lying again. Jaime of course still had the entinedad, but she didn't mention it. She told herself it was because supposably only a Rosales could use it, or at least that's what Jaime wanted people to believe, but she was actually just too selfish to let anyone use it.

Because there was always the chance she would have a reason to use it, if she was just brave enough, she could use it to see Ash again.

"If you have a plan we will carry it out regardless of the danger," Avan said.

"We will follow your orders Dru, whatever they are," Cara joined in.

Dru was stunned by their loyalty, she hadn't done anything to gain their trust herself, not really. They had trusted Livvy, Julian and Emma. But when they needed a new leader and the others were absent and the Clave had abandoned them in many of their eyes, they decided to follow Dru instead. They chose her for a few reasons because she was familiar, and because to some all they needed was to see her return from Faerie with two former prisoners and a Morgenstern sword on her back.

"If your willing to do it then go to the Mark and find a Faerie you can trust. Then take them to the river that connects and flows beneath the palace, Jaime knows the one and we can plant a spy," she announced.

"Or we could send an assassin," one of the older Shadowhunters said.

Shadowhunters didn't like being spies, at least not for long. They were used to fighting and investigating, it was seen as beneath some of the older Shadowhunters who had worked with the Clave in an official capacity for most of their lives.

"No!" She said, "we keep attacking and they keep surprising us, first with the demons that ambushed the Shadowhunters at Broceliande Forest and then with firearms! We won't ever get the advantage unless we know what they're planning-what Sammel is planning."

Everyone looked skeptical, they hated this waiting game they were playing at. She did too, but she couldn't convince anyone that Ash wasn't their real enemy, so the best she could do is secretly steer them away from him. "Listen, one of the only reasons we have gotten this far is because I know what Ash wants, but we have no idea what Sammael wants. No one does, not even Ash." It was another lie on top of a mountain of them. She would thank the Angel they didn't have the Mortal Sword to test her when she was keeping a secret for both Ash and Kit's sake.

If it came down to it she would tell them about the Wicked Powers, but not yet, not while she still had hope. She was placing everything on blind hope, she was supposed to be amending her mistakes yet everything she did made the voice in the back of her head grow louder.

Reflexively, her hand clutched at her clothes were her heart was and remembered what her sister had told her. All she knew was that in her heart she knew the river of the dead was important,and she had to find a way to save Ash.

She would keep at least one promise to him.

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Dru sat at the end of her bed staring at the open box of white banners. The candles on her dresser were lit, black wax melting and sticking to her dresser. Her door was crept open because she couldn't decide if she wanted to be alone or not, just like she couldn't convince herself to go to sleep.

She moved the box to her room so no one else would put them up before her, but now they laid in the middle of her room warping itself into the new center that everything focused on, including herself. She couldn't tear herself away, and even though she was exhausted, her heart was too anxious to rest. As a Shadowhunter she was taught to fight whatever scared her; to face the obstacles that came before her and use her anxiety, but there was nothing to fight. But just knowing that wasn't enough to settle what her nerves thought was real.

You couldn't fight death, that's what Magnus had told Ty. Some defeats had to be accepted, that's what the law had taught her, and to die for the Angel's cause was their duty. That's what the Shadow mandate had taught her.

But all the people she had loved the most never accepted any of that with grace.

A bad law is no law, if only that applied to the nature of the world as well.

So why did everything in her tell her not to quit fighting yet?

She licked her lips, feeling them waver as she posed a question to the empty room.

"Livvy?" She asked for her sister as if she could suddenly appear before her.

The flames flickered from the candles and the shadows of her wall danced, but nothing answered back. She let out a long sigh as a new grip tried to strangle the breath from her lungs.

She didn't know what had happened to her sister, if her soul was still tethered to earth somehow or if her spirit was at peace.

She would never know, at least that was one thing she could spare her family from knowing.

She was distracted from her thoughts at the sound of the latch on her window.

She didn't bother getting up, knowing full well there was only one person with enough nerve to try to sneak into her room.

The window slid up and Jaime lifted himself up and rolled through the window with ease.

Dru folded her arms, jutting her chin out. "You missed the meeting, again."

"I know, I know, I ran into some trouble," was all he said before flinging himself on her bed, arms resting behind his head. "What did I miss?"

She sighed, "Avan and Cara are going to work with Mark to find a Faerie to work as a spy, sneaking into the palace from the river."

Jaime's expression darkened. "You know it was luck I found it when I did, nothing in Faerie stays the same for long."

"I know, but if they can't find it on their own they can use the Shattered Forest."

"That is an even worse idea," he pointed out from the bed.

She jumped up, spinning around to face him. "Then what do you suggest doing?" She snapped, "last I checked you missed the last several meetings and it's been all on me to come up with things!"

Jaime looked hurt. He sat up, his curls were all a mess from lying down. "I'm sorry I haven't been there. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Good," her lips trembled. "Tell me whenever you decide to do that." She turned away from him only to find the box of white banners waiting at her feet.

She froze.

"You'll be here tomorrow, right?" She whispered.

She could hear the ruffling of the mattress as he got off the bed.

"Nothing could stop me," he whispered back, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, she could feel his gaze falling hers as they stared at the box in front of them.

She bit her lip, turning her face away. "Even if-"

But he cut her off, shaking his head.

"Even if the world ends, I'll still be here tomorrow, Dru, nothing is more important." He answered back fiercely.

She let her cheek brush ever so slightly against his hand, hoping to play it off like nothing as she turned her head face him. Even the slightest touch from him was so warm, like he was always burning underneath, and she knew he was.

Sometimes when she looked at him she could see that heat and it was too much, like now she knew it would be too much.

She didn't need another reason to feel unsteady today.

But instead of finding his eyes she saw the long jagged cuts across his forearm. They were almost healed with an iratze but the skin looked like it had to work to knit itself back together properly.

She pulled his arm from her shoulder, holding his hand in hers as she examined the wound.

"You keep getting hurt, what have you been doing lately?"

His expression was intense as he studied his own arm, but he didn't pull away from her.

"I ran into a member of the Cohort. He was with some rich mundane."

"Why? A potential ascension?" She asked, her eyes trying to catch his, but he was obviously avoiding her now.

"No, he was too old, I don't know what they're doing yet but I will."

He didn't say anymore, and Dru got the sudden feeling he was keeping something from her. It made her nervous, and afraid in a way she had never been with Jaime. She was afraid he would pull away from her; that she wouldn't be the person he trusted all his secrets to anymore.

Her hand slipped into his and she pulled it close to her.

He looked up at her, conflicted. His eyes were smolders instead of a burning fire as he looked at her. "Dru, I-"

A loud knock rapped at her door. "Rosales, get out of my sisters bedroom."

They looked at each other, Jaime cracking a small smile. "How does he always know when I'm here?"

"You got five minuites before I'm coming in after you," Julian said from outside the door.

At least he was giving them some privacy, Dru sighed.

Jaime's fingers closed around hers and this time he did bring them up, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

Dru felt the heat rise to her cheeks immediately, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I'll be back tomorrow, promise."

He let her go and headed for the door. He turned around and gave her a wide crooked smile. "As long as I get out of here before your brother carries me out in a body bag."

Julian peeked his head in after he left, a dull light peering in through the crack. "Do you need anything to help you sleep?" He asked in his knowing tone.

She didn't know how he could even keep track of everyone still, or how he knew she had been having trouble sleeping. "How did you know?"

He let himself slide through the door before answering. "Do you remember when Tavvy used to have nightmares almost every night?"

"I do," she answered, she remembered going to him herself to try help him sleep. His cries were so loud when he woke up to find himself alone. They were all light sleepers after the Dark War.

"I keep checking to see if he needs me, but instead I found you muttering in your sleep."

"Have you been coming in here to check on me?" She asked in surprise. She didn't realize she had been talking in her sleep, or that Julian had been here at all. He mostly kept himself in his room unless it was dinner time since he got back. But when he did get together he did his best to act strong for them, like he always had.

He came to sit on the bed, and she sat down with him.

"Just to sit with you in case you woke up."

She automatically leaned into him, and felt so much comfort that only Julian could give her as he pulled her into a side hug. Maybe it was the same thing she used to feel when her dad or mother had held her, but all she knew was Julian hugging her when she cried, or making cookies when she passed a test, or sewing up one of her favorite dresses she had ripped in training.

"Do you think you could stay now? Just until I fall asleep?" She felt a little silly asking, she wasn't a child anymore but she felt like one now. She had just lost her brother, she just wanted to lean on the brother she always had right now. So she could at least pretend something didn't change.

"Anytime you need, babygirl, you know I will."

She scrambled under her blanket as Jules made himself comfortable on the pillows, combing his fingers through her hair as she closed her eyes like he had done when she was a small girl afraid of strangers outside their home.

She fell asleep trying to pretend she was still that small girl, with barely the understanding of what there was actually to be afraid of, along with the knowledge that Helen and Mark would come was waiting on Julian to tell him a bedtime story, and Ty and Livvy were just in their rooms asleep, waiting to argue with Jules about having their own bedrooms when they woke up. Julian was sleeping in Emma's room again while the paint dried on his wall.

In the morning they would wake up, Julian would already be in the kitchen making breakfast, Emma would be late because of her morning run and the other early exercises she put herself through every morning. Diana would be waiting to give them lessons and they would all groan when it was time for another Clave mandated test. Her uncle would be in the attic unless he wandered down to make an ominous statement about an ancient Greek myth, and confuse Julian for their father.

But as her mind started to drift to that state of fuzzy consciousness were you start to lose control, Her mind drifted to the memory of the day Kit came to the institute.

He had been covered in blood with a surly expression, he didn't want to look at anyone, and certainly didn't want to be around any of them. Dru remembered him rushing past her as he went upstairs to find a room, pretending she wasn't there.

Dru was about to say something to him when she heard the twins come up the hall behind him.

"That's Johnny Rook's son. He must be a Shadowhunter too," Ty was saying excitedly to his twin.

He had an excited look in his eyes as he looked after Kit, his eyes eagerly sweeping across him trying to see everything.

Livvy looked over at her with an anxious expression, and she knew for once they were thinking the same thing about their brother.

'He's fascinated by him already, and Ty doesn't even know him yet. He doesn't know if this boy will even like him. He better not hurt him.

I hope he doesn't hurt him.."

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Only Magnus was awake this late, or it would be more correct to say this early, in his Brooklyn apartment. His children had been asleep for hours, though Magnus suspected it was actually much later when they decided to sleep. He had caught Max sneaking into Raph's room after he had sent them to bed, but didn't say anything. It would be a big day for them tomorrow, and death was never an easy thing no matter how long you lived.

For Max it was even harder, he was getting to the age where he was beginning to understand what being a Warlock meant for him, and those around him. He was having a hard time reconciling with the fact that he would outlive most of his family, and started being particularly clingy around Raph, and out right bursting into tears when Alec and Jace left on missions.

He had tried to talk to him, help him understand that everyone had their time to live and die, some were short and some lived for a long time. What was important was to focus on being alive in the present, but that was a lesson Max would have to come to understand himself. Magnus would just have to do his best to guide them through their long lives together.

He had stayed up late tonight for his husband, who was busy at the New York Institute. When Alec did return home and they retired together, Magnus found he couldn't sleep after all.

It was the nightmares that had kept him up, they happened during pivotal times, warnings or visions, or simple preminisons, he wasn't sure.

What exactly they were he didn't know, but he knew in time he would understand all too well.

It was a field he kept seeing, he recognized as just outside of Broceliande forest near Idris. Blood soaked the earth and scattered across the field were broken wings, soft pure white feathers stained with blood and ichor, ripped from invisible bodies, laid before him. And above him rising through the clouds was a yellow sun that dully glowed, like a rotten core polluting the air.

He was certain, somehow, as he gazed up at the sky that there would be no morning as it reached its peak, just a dawn that would never come.

He mulled these thoughts over, thinking of the other dreams he had before the Dark War when unexpectedly, the call box buzzed.

When Magnus was a bachelor, free of responsibilities and roommates, he would have just buzzed the mysterious visitors inside for curiosity's sake alone. Spontaneity had been his creed for most of his life, he was almost afraid of settling down. Warlocks had to keep living and feeling apart of the world. For Warlocks stagnation could lead to petrification, and that was a very dangerous thing.

But he soon learned that children were anything but stagnant and they certainly weren't boring, and neither was the life he built with Alec.

Things had changed, and as such he couldn't take any chances with the people he loved sleeping innocently just doors away.

He raised his hand and snapped, letting a glow of green light shimmer to light like a mirror in front of him, showing him the figures at his doorstep.

It took a moment for the figures to shift into focus and reveal their faces, but when they did Magnus didn't even bother to buzz them in as he grabbed his most comfortable and lavish bathrobe, flung it over himself, and rushed down the stairs to meet them.

When he opened the door, he found himself strangely more calm at the unexpected sight at his doorstep. But then again, when you live long enough few things ever did surprise you.

He leaned on the door frame as he looked at two very concerned and blissfully unaware Shadowhunters.

He lifted a finger to lazily point at them. "Christopher Herondale and Tiberius Blackthorn, you two are supposed to be dead."

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Magnus lead them up to his apartment, closing the colorful curtains that hung around the place as to close off the living room for privacy. He redecorated in a bohemian style recently to try to brighten up the place. He liked to think it had improved the kids moods, though Alec unfathomably found bright colors uncomfortable. He ran some light magic through the curtains as he touched them to soundproof the room.

He had a feeling from the look on their faces and Magnus' own knowledge of the boy's history that they wished to speak to him private.

They took a seat on the large yellow sofa that was packed with multi colored pillows.

Magnus noticed with slight annoyance the disdain both boys regarded his impeccable decor choice. But reminded himself that he rarely met anyone their age who who understood fashion. The rare exception being Isabelle Lightwood who could make anyone feel underdressed.

"Tea?" He offered, making a whole tea set appear with fresh steaming chamomile all with a wave of his hand.

Tiberius wrinkled his nose. "You can't make things appear out of nowhere, which means you stole this from somewhere."

Kit just shrugged, helping himself to a cup and adding several lumps of sugar.

"I assure you Ragnor will not be missing it for long. Even he would rejoice given the given the occasion."

Kit gave him a disbelieving look.

"Quietly rejoicing," Magnus admitted.

Tiberius seemed unconvinced, but at the mention of the set belonging to Ragno a mischievous glint sparked in Kit's his eyes and went ahead and poured Ty a cup himself.

"I think the least Shade could do is give us some tea," he muttered to Ty.

There was unmistakable bitterness in his tone, reminding Magnus of the conversation they had after Ty's failed attempt to resurrect his sister.

"You shouldn't have approached him under false pretenses, Tiberius wouldn't understand the kindness you were trying to do him." He had told Ragnor after he revealed his own failed plan.

"Believe me, Christopher has pointed out as much."

He looked tired, and older then Magnus had seen him, as if his recent failures could have aged his immortal skin.

"Why pretend then? That's not like you.."

"Yes I was acting like you, taking a stupid gamble and look how it turned out?"

"Then why did you do it?"

"You two have been gone for a long time," he informed them, pouring himself his own cup but choosing to stand.

"Just how long?" Kit asked first.

Magnus met his eyes, "You have been gone for over a year, the exact number I could not tell you."

Ty paled, Kit dropped his cup into his saucer with a clatter.

Magnus nodded, "the situation has changed, your sister, Drusilla, came back with an assortment of useful intel, but that alone hasn't been enough. As it is we are skirting around the brink of war."

"You said we were supposed to be dead?" Ty asked.

"As of tomorrow the Clave will officially declare you deceased instead of missing." Magnus continued to explain seeing the confusion on their face. "Your sister came back and informed us that the Riders of Manann have come from Thule to continue their hunt for you. With the knowledge you were in their ancestral home and without being able to contact you, we assumed the worst."

"The Riders are back," Kit barely audible, mouthed.

Magnus caught the the look Ty shot him.

It was plain to see what was going on between the two of them. Magnus had to wonder why it was you could only see what was so obvious when it was too late.

"But you didn't come to me to hear that, you came because you have a price to pay. Death has come to collect a heavy debt at last, hasn't it?"

Kit stared daggers into his cup, a slight tremor to his hands as he grasped it.

"Since we met at the Academy, improbable accidents have happened around us, only affecting us." Ty answered.

Magnus took a long swig of his tea before pacing around the front of his apartment. "I see, and these accidents should have been fatal?"

"Yes," Kit spoke, "like poison that shouldn't have affected me, runes stopped working, that sort of thing."

"And this only happens when the two of you are together or near?"

"Yes."

Magnus stopped, facing the both of them. "Lastly, what happened when the two of you saw each other again for the first time?"

Kit looked over at Ty and Magnus was suddenly struck with the image of William Herondale. He never saw much resemblance to the other man until now. But the way he looked at Tiberius reminded him very much of a Will about his age desperately showing up on his doorstep on a night unlike this one with a plea to help break free of a curse.

A curse he never had, but Magnus was beginning to fear Kit did.

"Why did you then?"

"Because," Ragnor started in frustration, "I thought Christopher would help him see reason as his friend."

"Are you saying you were wrong about their friendship?"

"Yes, I was wrong about just how much he cared. I failed to see how much he feared losing him, and I should have seen it, Magnus. The way that boy looked at him you would think Tiberius Blackthorn could solve all of the worlds problems with a snap of the finger and he alone was Tiberius' sole protector."

Magnus had seen many Herondales assume the role of protector of the one they loved all the while never realizing they were the ones in need of saving.

He had the suspicion that even though Kit didn't have Will's curse or taught a corrupted idea of love as Jace had, Kit had been alone for so long he forgot that he was even lonely until he met Tiberius. After all, he had seen people who had been starved for so long that they forgot what hunger even felt like until they tasted food again.

He was aware, however, that those circumstances may not have been the best to start a relationship under. It would be unfair to expect your lover to fulfill you of all the attention you had been deprived of, just as it would be unfair to expect someone to take the place of your twin.

He wondered if they had met again under more equal ground at the Academy, and how cruel it was to be told now that they had missed their chance.

The world truly was full of tragic love stories.

"A chandelure tried to crush us," he answered.

Magnus went to one of his coffers, opening up a delicate china bowl and putting some of the soft ash into his hands.

"Hold still," he ordered, walking up till he was standing over them.

He let the small grains brush between his fingers, and then with a snap that sparked them to life in a green fire, let them fall between the two.

The fire burned out as quickly as it sparked into existence, leaving a dark mist that fell in between them revealing a dark cord that ran between the two of them.

It was magic, a dark kind that binds fates together without the consent or knowledge of those bound.

"It's as I feared," he said, darkly. "Death is seeking payment from the life you tried to steal."

Kit's face clouded over, Tiberius' however, was more apparent than ever.

"What do you mean? Livvy wasn't even brought back successfully?" he demanded.

Magnus just shook his head, he was looking for a reason this couldn't be, a simple explanation that could fix everything. But even if he were to find one it didn't change what was happening. "You stole her from death to the land of the living, it doesn't matter if it was successful when her soul rests on this side of the veil."

"But why is Kit's life endangered? He didn't perform the spell, it was only me!" Ty's voice cracked.

Kit silently got up from the sofa to stand at the window sill, Ty's head whipped around to watch him go.

Magnus also watched Kit as he stared out at the dark streets. Rain poured down the glass distorting the view and turning Kit's reflection into an inverted expression of his pain as tears ran down the reflections face.

"That doesn't matter, he was present at the ritual. It's dark influence affected him as well. It will appear that death will not be satisfied until one of your lives is forfeit to pay the debt."

Ty's lips were pressed into such thin a line it was almost surprising he could speak. "But that's not fair," he tried to argue.

Magnus knew he wasn't really arguing with him, but chose to answer anyway. "Life isn't fair, and neither is death," he feared he said a little too sharply.

He brought a hand to his face to try to wipe away the frustration. He wasn't mad at Tiberius. He was mad at himself and every other adult who failed to notice before he acted out, and now it was too late. The world moved too fast, and too often it was children that paid the price.

"What do we do then?" Kit finally spoke, not looking away from the window.

Magnus sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Tiberius can go back to the L.A. Institute and you can go back home to Devon with Tessa and Jem. Stay away from one another and never see each other again, least the curse gets worse or one of you gets killed." He let himself sound harsh, because that was exactly what they needed to hear.

Emma and Julian were nothing short of a miracle, but lightning rarely struck twice. He had reassigned himself as a bystander through most of their ordeal, as someone who had lived too long to comprehend how mortals experienced their lives, he felt it best to be a guiding force instead of a judge ruling how others should live their lives.

Still, he didn't handle their situation much better than Ragnor did. Magnus couldn't help but feel a shiver of an echo of his mistakes when he agreed to take away Julian's emotions and his ability to be there for his siblings when they needed him most.

Tiberus started fiddling with something in his hands furiously. Kit had stopped moving completely, Magnus thought he might not even be breathing.

"I'm sorry, I truly am, but this isn't something that can be ignored," he said, breaking their stunned silence.

"But it can be fixed," Tiberius said with sudden calm.

Both Magnus and Kit turned to look at him. The look on Kit's face was completely broken, as if every word Ty said was only causing more pain.

Magnus himself was stunned. He hadn't expected such a direct and pragmantic response, especially discussing the consequences of his failures. "You can't undo what you did, no matter how much you wish to take it back," he told him sadly.

But Tiberius wasn't deterred by this. "You don't know that it can't be undone, necromancy isn't a taught magic and little understood. There could be a way," he said firmly.

Before Magnus could get over the shock, Kit broke in.

"No necromancy, not for me, not for anything, remember?" His expression still pained, his voice was a monotone, the energy stolen from him.

Ty didn't even look back at him, but Magnus could tell it was trying him not to. "We don't know that we would have to use necromancy yet."

"And if it was, would you do it?" Magnus asked sharply. "Would you rip another hole in the fabric of life and shoulder an even higher consequence, even if others might suffer?"

Ty shrunk inwards, his eyes glanced down to his hands. "You don't know that anyone else would be harmed."

"And neither do you," Magnus said.

"You would never forgive yourself," Kit was practically whispering to him. "Then I wouldn't forgive myself for doing that to you."

Ty finally looked up at him with shining eyes like quicksilver..

Magnus thought he would give up.

But then-

"I won't give up yet, not before we haven't even tried," he no longer was looking at Kit like he was searching for an answer, but like he had found a path he would die on.

Magnus had felt the dismay in his own heart. He didn't believe that the two of them wouldn't find their way back to each other eventually. Something Jem had always said was that life had a way of bringing back what you had lost. Magnus didn't know that he fully believed that, but it was hard not to when he thought of Jem and Tessa.

And with that suspicion he had, Magnus had also feared that if Tiberius would be made to pay for what he did, it would wait until he found Kit.

"Please," Ty first said to Kit before turning back to Magnus. "Please, there must be something you can do to give us time."

Magnus looked at Ty's ferious determination and then looked to Kit. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

It would appear that he never did learn to refuse Tiberius of anything.

He looked at the two of them together and remembered when he found them desperately fighting for their lives at the Shadow Market. The boy was practically Julian Blackthorn's son rather than his little brother, he had given so much of his life to protect him. Magnus didn't know him well but he was not a stranger either.

He knew he had an extraordinary sharp mind with a kind heart, one with more love to give than many would ever guess. He also apparently had an iron will.

And then there was Kit, the boy who became Tessa and Jem's son.

Magnus knew him a little better, even more so he knew how much he meant to his dear friends. Their lost son they had taken into their home and done their best to shower them with as much love as they possibly could. They had been heartbroken when he went missing, they worked tirelessly to find him, but with another small child to look after it wasn't easy.

But here they were returned from the dead, and Magnus found he couldn't refuse this new determined generation of Shadowhunters, either.

It would seem that if he lived a million years he would still keep making the same mistakes he always did, but Alec would remind him that was what made him him after all.

He found that after all this time he still wanted to have hope in small and big miracles, and in the people around him.

He stood up, waving his hand he made a bushel of special herbs appear and weaved them together with magic. Hovering above them was a newly made wreath. He plucked it from the air and with the last bit of magic, he broke it in half and handed a piece to them both.

"This should temporarily dampen the effects of the curse, think of it as if it is hiding you from death as long as it is on you. But it will not last, and once the flowers wither the effects will be even stronger while you two are together." He looked hard at the two of them. "When your time is up no matter what happens you must separate, do you understand?"

"I understand," Ty said, but it was Kit that Magnus was waiting to answer.

He met his gaze, all blue fire and raging storms. "I know," he said firmly.

That will have to be good enough, Magnus thought, rising to his feet.

He walked over to the entrance of the apartment where there was enough space before raising his arms wide and summoning a portal.

A swirling blue vortex came to life in front of them, a familiar kitchen floated through wavering surface.

"Now it is time for you two to go home."

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Kit ran his fingers along the counter, collecting an inch of dust as he went. He was in the basement of an old parliament building that had been out of use for ages and glamoured for Downworlder use. Still, despite the decrepit appearance it had to the streets of London, he hardly suspected it would be coated with this much grime on the inside.

The whole place had an air of old wealth that had long since run dry. The upstairs had luxurious old couches and lounges with bed bugs and mysterious stains, while the walls were decorated with beautiful old yellowing wallpaper and tapestries that hid termites.

Downstairs had no pretense of past wealth, it was just a cold basement with little air filtering through with another layer of dust that danced in the light that poured through the vents.

There was a makeshift laboratory that more resembles an old sorcerers study then lab. There was almbelics and test tubes with finely ground powder in several mortar and pestles. The most disturbing was the bloody magic circles and the "specimens" kept in cages.

Kit read a label for one of the grounded powders. Amused, he scooped some of the powder on his fingers and sniffed it. "You know, when someone claims they're selling 'dragons blood' it's usually just incense." He turned to the vampire looming in the middle of the room. "You know dragons are extinct, don't you?"

The man had long dark hair with heavy lidded eyes, and a scowl in place that flashed his fangs he was failing to hide. "I showed you what you wanted to see, it's time we leave."

He smiled at the vampire's obvious resentment. "I wanted to see all your dirty little secrets for myself. Now that I'm here I'll see what else I can dig up about you." Kit was calling the shots now, and he was relishing every last minute of it.

With no Johnny to force him into the back seat, or Endarkened to hunt him down, he was going to show the world what he could do, and he would take whatever he wanted, live however he wanted.

"I won't keep tolerating this mistreatment. This isn't a mutual beneficiary, it is a shake down!" He snarled.

Kit just turned casually back around to the blood vials he was inspecting. "I'm glad you finally understand, and you will continue our agreement and pass on intel for me to Pandemonium. If you don't your secret will be leaked to the Shadowhunters."

"You can't leak anything if I kill you, you arrogant boy," he started.

Kit tossed his head back and laughed. "You think I'm the only one who knows? What, did you think, you met an untimely death in Thule to some demon?"

His features froze completely.

"If you want to know who really did you in, I can tell you. I can even tell you their secrets." Kit flew high on the lie, and he would aim to soar even higher if he could, because he knew he would dig up everyone's secrets for himself eventually.

There was a loud creak as someone opened the hatch to the trapdoor above them. A young man jumped into the basement entering into a low crouch, one he was not so willing to get out of when he noticed Kit's company.

Before the vampire could lurch and attack Kit stopped him.

"Don't worry, Afumati, he's with me."

Warily, the young werewolf straightened up and walked towards Kit, his eyes staying on the vampire as he went.

Kit didn't blame him, Zen had a run of bad luck with vampires, and werewolves, and well everything.

He leaned his elbows on the counter, and tilted his chin up invitingly, pleased to see him. "Well? You look like you got something to tell me."

He watched his green eyes focus back on him, and Kit instantly felt gratified. His eyes were interesting, with gold circling around the edges almost like a ring.

"They have come looking for you at the market, Jace Herondale and a man named James Carstairs. I've heard of him, everyone at the markets has. They say he was once a Silent Brother named Zachariah, and today he was even wearing the robes."

"So he was a Silent Brother once," he wondered out loud, casting a glance at Abel who looked uncomfortable at the mention, and smiled. "Perfect. What else?"

Zen shrugged stiffly, like most of his movements he forced himself to be contained. "I told them about the Riders and he said if I learned anything to let him know and that he would be around."

James Carstairs was married to Tessa Gray, this worlds Kit's adoptive parents. Kit decided this likely meant they lived somewhere in England, after all, if he would be 'around'.

Zen leaned in close, and Kit caught the scent of clovers and fresh meat. It wasn't the most pleasant of scents to have but Kit welcomed his advance all the same. "They also talked to Mother Hawthorn, they thought I couldn't hear but well.." he pointed at his ears. He had great hearing when he focused, better than a typical werewolf, even. "She told them that the Riders have killed this worlds Kit, and she told them about you."

He looked at Kit anxiously.

He answered this by reaching his hand up to stroke his jawline. "I think you need to shave again," he whispered.

Zen flushed, his eyes glancing back to Abel still standing around like he almost wished he would spontaneously combust into flames to spare him from watching them.

"Is it true?" He asked.

"Hell if I know, I've been trying to keep my distance from the Riders. But if they had, all the better for me. I would just have to kill him anyway if he were alive. But this is exactly the opportunity I was hoping for, now there's a fresh wound I can exploit."

Kit was forging his own path now, he was determined to thrive here instead of wasting away like he would in Thule. He would live the life he should have been living here, before the Shadowhunters made him into some kind of pet. But first he needed to gain insurance. There were people who wanted him dead, and he needed to know why, and he needed information to protect himself.

"Should we really be talking about this in front of him?" Zen jerked his head towards Abel.

Abel sneered "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me when you stand in my lab, mutt. Do tell me though, since you are here, does a werewolf who has inflicted with yin fin blood also run silver? I wouldn't mind testing it."

Zen turned almost as white as the drug he had once taken. "And I wouldn't be one to jump to judgment if I were in your place, not while I stand in a dungeon meant to test tampered blood on other vampires," his voice shook with barely controlled rage.

He was right, Abel Afumati was inspired to start testing blood with strange properties on other vampires and any other downworlder he could get his hands on after Valentine Morgenstern's own experiments.

The whole thing was pretty deranged, and Kit couldn't respect anything done in or for inspiration of a Shadowhunter, especially a Morgenstern. Still, Kit didn't need to. That was never the point of what his father did, or what he trained Kit to do.

Kit walked over to cage where a cornish pixie laid languishing inside, it's wings barely beating and it's eyes glazed over. "It would be one thing if they did anything, but shooting up incense and calling it an experiment doesn't make it science." He picked up the syringe he must have been using to inject the pixie. It was filled with what looked like highly diluted blood, but what dripped from the needle was transparent.

He tried to hand it to Zen, but he seemed reluctant to take it.

There was a flash of annoyance as he tried to force him to take it. "What's wrong? I thought this is what you wanted, wasn't it? Take it." He said in a low voice.

He had a moment of resolve as he took it from him.

Conning people was all about pretending to give people what they thought they wanted, and what Zen thought he wanted was to be cured of his ignorance. He had been any other mundane before he became victim to a random werewolf attack. The first change was hard on him, he got himself expelled from school, and when he was close to turning he struck down his own mother before his father struck him down instead, and kicked him out.

Not knowing what was happening to him, he fell into the first group of werewolves he found, and they were not exactly the kind mentor type. Turned out most of the gang purposely turned so they could increase their gang activity and take down anyone stupid enough to challenge them or their turff. They refused to teach him much, and used it to force him to do their bidding. They got their hands on yin fin, coercing him to take it to make them stronger.

Eventually he made it out somehow and even kicked the drug habit, only to become the new puppet of some vampires that sacked the old Praetor Lupus headquarters and used it to deceive him. Apparently, their old leader was killed in a werewolf attack and they were going on a rampage.

Zen resented, and was afraid of his past; convinced that if he didn't learn the underbelly of Downworld he would keep falling victim to it.

"If this bothers you, then you better adapt quick. There is a lot worse in Downworld." Kit warned. Didn't he realize he would just get himself killed if he wasn't willing to do it first? The worst part of it was that it might even be Kit that ended up pulling the trigger, and it made him angry.

Zen shook his head, his shaggy hair falling over his forehead. "You're a dangerous man, Kit, far too dangerous for me," he tried to smile at him.

Kit leaned in close again until his breath was in Zen's ear. "But that's exactly why you like me."

His body shivered and his pupils dilated like an addicts as he turned his face to better take Kit in.

Zen thought what he wanted was to overcome his ignorance, but what he really needed was a new addiction.

And Kit was more than happy to play the part, for now.

Kit left him standing there, hanging on for more, as he pulled out an envelope and handed it to Abel.

"You want to benefit something from me? Here, tell your club about this." The vampire looked unimpressed until he opened the envelope and read the contents. "Yes, yes I think this will do for now." Engrossed with the new information in his hands, he turned around still looking at the letter, and began walking towards the trap door without a second thought for them.

"And when you come back," Kit started after him, "I want information on what exactly Pandemonium is doing with all those summoning circles they've commissioned."

Abel froze, then turned his head slightly and nodded.

Soon he would have it all, and never have to live in fear of anyone. He would climb the ranks of Pandemonium without anyone even knowing he was a member, he would gain information and insurance on anyone that might pose a threat.

Zen was willing to help when it came to listening for information, but the extent he would go to help Kit was extremely limited, he knew. Eventually Zen would probably become more of a liability than an asset, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

He already knew he would have to work quickly to make some other alliances to turn on Afumati before he did it first, but there was too much he could still get out of him.

And then there was the other side of the coin, the Shadowhunters who had taken him in under the guise of kindness.

He had no doubt what kind of 'life' they gave him under the strict laws of the Clave, the same Clave that had abandoned his family. They all thought they were better than him, they were probably patting themselves on the back for saving the poor lost Shadowhunter from the terrible Downworld. They thought they had taken him to where he belonged, but they had no idea where he belonged.

How could they when even he didn't even know sometimes?

He kept his face turned away from Zen as a bitter smile spread across his face when he thought of them. He snaked his hand into his pocket, and closed his hand around the familiar locket he kept on him.

He would make them regret ever forgetting who he was, and more importantly making himself forget.

It's about time we got that twist out of he way, not that it was surprising one, but still! Things are shaking up again as things have definitely just got alot worse for everyone..but wait theres more!