CHAPTER TWO

Warlocks exist. Unlike shadowhunters though they are not in this world to help mankind and they don't try to hide. Most of them are selfish and see humans as toys made for their own pleasure. Drale wasn't like most warlocks.

He cared about humans much like a babysitter does. Not enough to treat them like his own, but enough to not abuse them. He saw their worth on this Earth but he knew his was greater. That's why he felt bad for the poor little redheaded girl who got in his way.

He didn't mean to hurt her, he actually wasn't even aiming for her. But she was so breakable. Mundanes are so breakable.He really wasn't at fault. It was the dashing blonde who picked the fight. Warlocks and shadowhunters didn't get along but Drale had made an exception for the boy. He was handsome and Drale liked his men young. Oh yes he was technically taken but Magnus knew he could trust Drale. He just liked to tease the boys and have a little fun, then return to his home where Magnus was only a call away.

But then the blonde screwed it up by killing a demon acquaintance of Drale's, his bad temper was ignited. They were going at it on a stairwell - and no not going at it the way Drale would have preferred - when this girl appeared. Neither of the men cared because mundanes couldn't be affected by what they couldn't see; and mundanes couldn't see half the world they walked in.

"That's not the point, she got hurt." Drale was pacing his furry rug while Magnus was strewn on the couch.

"Mundanes get hurt all the time. I don't see the big deal." Magnus was at a rave in London when he got Drale's call and his outfit showed it.

"The big deal is she got hurt by me. As in she could feel me, see me." Magnus rolled his cat eyes and headed towards the kitchen leaving pieces of glitter trailing behind him.

"I need a drink. You're overthinking too much for this early in the morning."

"And you're drinking too early in the morning."

"Hey London is 5 hours ahead it's practically 8 in the morning there." As Magnus tossed his shimmering vest onto the counter and shook his blue hair out Drale looked at him lovingly. Magnus was the most eccentric man Drale had ever met.

He had traveled the world too many times to count. Making friends in countries Drale didn't even know existed. As far as Drale knew Magnus was as old as time but ageless in beauty. He never said his age but when he tells stories about Mother Nature being "kind of a bitch" Drale smiles. He could never imagine a space in time without Magnus in it. He felt fortunate enough that Magnus took him on as a student all those years ago and now could barely believe they were lovers. Magnus never called it anything more but Drale knew.

"You probably didn't have your glamour on. It's exhausting to keep up and you were focused on your quarrel. Now let's go shopping, it always calms you down. Haven't you been wanting a gold ferret?" Drale's shoulders sagged because he knew the discussion was over. He could never pass down a good shopping trip and Magnus was probably right. There was nothing to worry about.

"There's something to worry about." Clary was stirring her coffee a little too hard and a little too fast, causing brown spots to splatter onto her sketchpad. Simon was having trouble trying to grasp the new situation.

"Well you're not crazy. A lot of people have weird dreams when they hit their head. Don't you have color pencils? It's hard to picture this dude with blue skin if you don't color it." Clary sighed and took back the drawing, stuffing it in her bag. She didn't need anyone at the coffee shop knowing her business. In general, Clary was a very private person. She had a very small circle of people in her life and she liked it that way. Her dad Luke, Jocelyn, and of course Simon.

"I know what I saw Simon and it was a guy with blue skin." Exasperated, she sighed again hearing how ridiculous she sounded. He was already looking at her like she was crazy and Clary hadn't even mentioned the whole warlock thing.

"Maybe you should talk to your mom. She would love to hear you talking about stuff like this."

That was true. Half the pictures Jocelyn drew were of fairies and witches. If Clary didn't know any better, she would think her mom truly believed in magic. All of a sudden, Clary had a flash of an old memory.

Jocelyn and 5 year old Clary were in the park on the swings together. It was a brisk fall day so they were the only two there. Clary's nose was almost as red as her hair from the cold but her mother was insistent on staying. Clary knew her mother wanted her to do something but she had no idea what it was.

" You are made differently than other kids Clarissa. I believe you can do magical things, things others can only dream about. We just need to kickstart it. You, actually, need to start it."

"Mommy it's cold can't I start kicking later?" Jocelyn chuckled an unidentifiable look of loss filling her eyes.

"Of course sweetie. Let's go."

"Clary?" Simon waved his hand in front of her face. Clary broke out of her thoughts in a haze.

"What? I'm sorry Simon I think I was remembering a dream or something." His face grew concerned by that.

"I was saying you should tell your mom about this guy you think you saw. Are you sure you're alright? Fully recovered?" Clary shrugged off his parental worry grabbing her stuff.

"I'm fine really. Good idea though, but I'll have to talk to her later. I promised my dad I would have dinner with him tonight." Standing up from their table Simon helped Clary put on her jacket. "Thanks I'll see you later."

"Okay but make sure to rest. And tell Luke hi for me!" He called as Clary was already out the door.

"Are you feeling alright since the accident?" Luke carefully looked over Clary as she stepped in the door. Luke was always cautious, careful, neat.

Looking around his apartment you could see that. Luke was a book hoarder but you couldn't tell by the looks of it. They were all bound in the same brown leather, titled with the same gold leaf, and alphabetically stacked in his shelves. The rest of the studio was made up by the bed and kitchen. The bed was always made, and the dishes always washed and put away. Clary imagined if Luke ever decided to move, he wouldn't have to change a single thing before showing it.

"Yes Dad." She chuckled walking in. "You don't need to worry and I'm kind of tired of talking about it anyways. Mom and Simon have been all over me with questions and concerns." He made a face he thought Clary didn't notice as they made their way to the kitchen where dinner was prepared. He always made a face when he heard about Jocelyn. Clary was pretty sure it was involuntary. "They both believe I'm fine." Clary felt the weight of her sketch in her bag right then.

"Yes well I'm not going to believe you're fine just because your mom thinks so. Sorry though we can stop talking about it now." Luke blushed a little shoving a forkful of lasagna in his mouth. He didn't like to show his distaste of Jocelyn in front of Clary. She thinks he tries to make up for the messy divorce that way but honestly she was so young she barely remembers it. " So how is school going? Your art?"

"School is fine. Art is good. I actually have a new drawing with me. Want to see it?"

"Yes please." Clary slowly slid the sketch across the table trying to get a good read on his first impression. She got nothing. "Very realistic Clary well done." He nodded absentmindedly focusing on all the little details.

"Does it...remind you of anyone?" She stabbed some lasagna around the plate trying to be nonchalant. Luke looked up through his rims with his equally striking green eyes, at his terrible liar of a daughter.

"It should?" His shoulders tensed slightly as he sat up straighter pushing the drawing back.

"No. Maybe. I wasn't actually sure who I was drawing at first," insert awkward chuckle here, "but now he looks...familiar." Brushing a hand through his freshly showered hair Luke tried to come up with a response. "...And I was wondering if he looked familiar to you too."

"A lot of times our brains absorb information without us even realizing it. You might have seen him on the street and subconsciously stored his face away in your memory using it at a later date. You artists do that a lot I think." Luke got up clearing both their plates even though Clary's was only half gone. "If you see him again though, let me know okay?" The end of the question was a bit strained.

"Again? Well Dad there's like a million people in New York."

"And yet he found you." He replied in a whisper Clary never heard.

All in all it was a pretty normal night in the Garroway House. After dinner the father and daughter turned on a movie pointing out all the ways it was different from the book. Ice cream was dessert and they both ate till sick from brain freeze. Clary had all but forgotten the sketch conversation, at least that's what Luke was hoping, As she hopped on the subway already focused on the homework she had to do. So it took her a minute to realize she was alone.

To people who have never been to New York, having not experienced the claustrophobia that comes with every subway ride day or night, this may not be that big of a deal. But as a born and raised New Yorker, Clary was a bit spooked. The subway was working fine as far as she could tell, and Simon hadn't called about an apocalypse...weird. The train screeched to a halt and Clary couldn't help but peer over her seat to see if anyone was getting on.

He did. Strolling in gold leather from head to toe. The shoes had little tassels on them and the buttons on the suit were shiny. If not for the crazy mono color decision he looked like he could be a detective in one of those old black and white movies. Yes, he even had a gold fedora. Clary didn't notice any of that though. All she looked at was the blue skin underneath.

"You?" She tensed as he took a seat opposite from her.

"Drale Cist, Fairchild." Despite everything Clary noted he had kind eyes.

"Long name."

"Excuse me?"

"Drale Cist Fairchild? Do you always tell people your full name when introducing yourself or only after you've thrown them down a flight of stairs?"

"I didn't throw you, you were in the way. Something I only came to apologize for, so you don't have to worry about covering up who you really are. I want no business with you." Clary squinted at him in confusion.

"I'm not covering anything. It's Fray."

"What?"

"My last name is Fray. You got it wrong."

"Aren't you Jocelyn's… daughter?" The way he said it made it sound like "daughter" was not the word he wanted to use. But more importantly-

"How do you know my mom's name? What are you a crazy ex of hers? A stalker? Flowers get you closer to a woman's heart than killing their offspring you know." Now Drale was confused. He took off the dumb hat so he could think. Magnus insisted on it but Drale just felt silly with the accessory.

"First of all, your mother is not my type. Second, I have some demon friends that would argue with you on that last part. Thirdly, I did look you up because I thought a mundane could see me and I couldn't sleep over that fact. I know we've never met but at least we know each other by reputation. Now, I can finally sleep." He started to get up but Clary did the same.

"Wait a second. I have no idea who you are! You know what?" She sighed heavily and slouched back into the seat. "Never mind. You are obviously crazy inside and out. So you with your demon, mundank, hippie talk, and one-of-a-kind self tanner can just go."

A million things crossed Drale's mind. The girl didn't believe in demons? She doesn't know the word mundane? Obviously Jocelyn took the term "exile" a step further. The girl is completely cut off from her own world. What would Magnus do? Ignore her? Too late for that. Just leave? Still an option. Help her? But how? Drale wasn't an expert on the Accords but he was pretty sure this would be violating them. Besides with Jocelyn's history, was the girl better off?

"Clarissa Fair-," he coughed to cover up his mistake picking up the hat. "Fray. It's been a...pleasure meeting you. Till' next time." Drale bowed, put on his hat and snapped his fingers. In a puff of blue smoke he was gone and the train stopped.

"AH!" Clary screamed in disbelief. She blinked profusely, shaking her head. Like there was anything she could do to un-see what just happened. The smoke had barely settled when it came again but somehow "puffed" in reverse. Drale was in the same spot.

"Oh one more thing. My skin is naturally blue." This time after Drale snapped out, Clary knew without a doubt what she saw was magic. The train doors opened and everyone was shoving in. Clary got out not paying attention to where she was or who she elbowed to get off. She needed to be on still ground. She was going to be sick.