Jace and Jonathan spiraled out of the Portal together and landed in an empty alleyway, shoulder to shoulder. Jonathan immediately straightened the straps across his chest as Jace slowly took in their surroundings.

In the not so far distance, huge alight towers scraped the dark sky. The sight of this sky was odd to Jace; he had never seen the night missing its stars before.

"Where are we?" he mumbled. Jonathan, now finished checking his weapons, turned to Jace.

"New York. Manhatten, specifically." Jace quickly dropped his eyes down to Jonathan's.

"Are you serious?" Jonathan gave him a look.

"No," he said sarcastically before turning and striding to the mouth of the alley. "I lied; we're actually in Wonderland, little Alice."

Broken glass and gravel crunched underneath Jace's boots as he jogged to catch up with him, ignoring the sour smell that was permeating his nostrils from a nearby Dumpster.

"If I'm the little girl then you get to be Tweedle Dum-Ass." Jonathan ignored him.

"Come on, we have to get to the other side of the street." he said before stepping off the curb.

The two Shadowhunters darted across the busy street, effortlessly weaving in and out of yellow taxicabs. They briskly started up the other side of the pavement, not drawing so much as a glance from the passing mundanes though they were armed to the teeth with odd glass-like blades and daggers.

"Where are we going?" Jace asked, turning his head to the blonde boy at his shoulder.

"Don't ask questions." Jonathan replied.

"I don't know why you'd be okay with me being your backup when I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing."

"You'll see soon enough." Jonathan answered after a moment.

The streets of New York were congested with people of every shape and size, despite the late hour. They all seemed to move out of their way without realizing it, and this had Jace appreciating the usefulness of glamors for the first time.

Jace couldn't help but look at the faces of every woman they passed, hoping but not really expecting to see Clary amongst one of them.

He was distantly aware of it when they left the throngs of people and noise behind, though he wasn't paying strict attention; his training had left him with the ability to take in his surroundings effortlessly, and he was very aware of the subtle things in his enviornments.

To his left was an old yellow fire hydrant that he could leap to the top of for added height and force when delivering a downwards killing blow; and ahead of him, a rusty, wrought iron fence with untamed shrubs and blunted limbs poking out between the gaps-ideal for slamming vampires into and piercing their hearts through their backs with the wood of the branches.

Jonathan, steps ahead of Jace, stopped at the double gated entrance of what appeared to be an old cemetary.

Jace thought the gate very fitting; old iron encircling and guarding old bones.

Jonathan pushed the right gate open with a rusty sounding creak, then slipped lithely through the space he had created like water through a crack. Jace followed him silently, torso and hips rippling through the small space with effortless grace.

They crept along between graves, their boots avoiding dead leaves and twigs, when Jonathan suddenly stopped and crouched down behind a large mausoleum. Jace knelt down next to him, bumping Jonathan's knee with his own, before peering around him to see what he was staring at.

Off in the distance, peeking through the gloom like a gleaming tooth in the cavernous mouth of some giant beast, was a tall marble statue of an angel.

Jace squinted, and was able to see that there were words written on the translucent plaque at its feet.

Jace glanced over at Jonathan, who seemed to be humming with energy as he stared at the angel, with an almost hungry look like that of a hunter. The look unnerved Jace.

"What is it?" he asked. Jonathan didn't look at him as he answered.

"The entrance."

"To what…" Jonathan finally turned to him. His eyes seemed to glint, though Jace knew there was no source of light around them that could cast its reflection into their darkness.

"The Bone City."

Jace was stunned. He turned to look back at the fierce and beautiful angel, and now knew what was written on the stone at its feet. 'NEPHILIM: FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI'

…the descent into Hell is easy.

"But why-?"

"Jace," Jonathan turned on the balls of his feet to cast him a very serious and frustrated look. "No more questions. I'll tell you what you need to know." Jace narrowed his eyes but Jonathan continued. "We need to get into the City…but the trouble is, the door won't open to us in the usual way.

"Why-?"

"Shut up, Jace, " Jonathan's eyes flashed. "Just trust me when I say we can't walk up and enter normally...as other Nephilim would. But just because it won't open to us doesn't mean we can't get inside."

He waited for Jace's response. Jace cocked a tawny eyebrow.

"Oh, what, I can talk now?" Jonathan let out a breath of anger through his nose.

"Yes." he said through clenched teeth. Jace looked back over at the statue; guarding the dead city below its marble feet.

"So how are we supposed to enter then?" Jonathan smiled, unseen to Jace's turned body.

"We lure one of them out. The guardians are suckers for hurt Nephilim…especially underage hurt Nephilim." Jace scoffed.

"So what, d'you want me to stub my toe and make a huge scene about it? Will that get them running?"

"Not quite."

Jace turned back to him as he heard the sound of a dagger sliding out of its sheath. Before Jace had a moment to react to the weapon, Jonathan brought the blade down to the tough black material that covered his forearm and cut through it to the pale skin underneath.

Blood bloomed up out of the cut as Jonathan switched hands and then brought the blade up to the side of his throat, leaving a little cut there like the burning nick of a face razor. Jace frowned at him as Jonathan stashed the blade away back into his belt and then turned to him.

His black eyes were unreadable as he cupped a hand beneath the gash on his forearm and caught a pool of blood in his palm. Still meeting his eyes with ones of obsidian stone, Jonathan then smeared some of his blood across Jace's brow.

Jace froze, barely feeling it as Jonathan smudged some blood onto his opposite cheek.

Suddenly, the night around Jace was very cold, save for the scorching smears on his face.

His vision wavered as he looked down at the sticky redness that filled in the love and life lines in Jonathan's palm, and spidered out into smaller, feathered lines of blood that seemed to pulse like miniscule veins.

A little boy with bright hair, screaming, and covered in red. His blood. Jace was covered in his blood…Jonathan's…

"Jace."

Jonathan's voice had a sharp note in it. Jace blinked, forcing himself to look away from his brother's steadly trickling wound, more red…

"Jace!" Jonathan grabbed his face and made Jace look at him.

Jace cringed, knowing there was blood all over those fingers.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, but you need to pull yourself together." Jace's eyes were empty. "I'm going to need you to help me and you can't do that when you're catatonic and looking like you're living in a bad nightmare."

Jonathan dropped his hand to his shoulder and shook him a few times. Jace barely felt it, though noticed his spine seemed to be made of overcooked pasta.

"Jace, you're a soldier. Snap out of it! You have a mission, a very dangerous one, I might add. We could very easily be killed tonight, and if we return home without what we've come for…we're just as dead. I need your help, Jace."

Jace blinked stupidly, but then forced himself to focus.

"Okay. What do I need to do?" he mumbled.

Jonathan didn't speak for a moment, instead choosing to reach down and scoop up a handful of the soft dirt they were kneeling on. He then dumped it over Jace's head, before rubbing it into his hair and smudging some down the side of his face and chin.

Then, completley weirded out that Jace had not protested him ruffling grave dirt into his perfect golden hair, Jonathan continued to made Jace appear as though he had just come out of battle.

Finally, when both boys were sufficiently dirty and stained with blood, Jonathan brushed his hands together and stood up.

Jace silently mirrored his movements, wondering as he did why Jonathan had chosen to cut only himself, and not Jace as well. Jonathan had slipped the blade back out and used it to rip a fissure into the material at Jace's shoulder, but did not cut the skin beneath.

Perhaps he thought he had cut Jace enough to last a lifetime. Or perhaps Jonathan was worried about weakening him when his mind seemed so injured already...

"So now what?" Jace asked him. Jonathan smiled, though the expression was more sinister than happy.

"Now we put on the show of our lives."

And with that, he threw an arm over Jace's shoulders and leaned his weight on him, limping as if there was something wrong with his leg. The boys stepped out from behind the mausoleum, Jace pretending to sag with the weight of his brother.

As they neared closer to the angel, Jonathan mussed his hand into his hair, making it fall forward to cover his down casted eyes.

Then, when they could see the blank pupil-less eyes of the statue, Jonathan turned towards Jace's ear and hissed,

"Come on you have to be convincing!" Jace clenched his right fist.

"Alright," he said, then punched Jonathan in the side as hard as he could.

"Ahhh!" Jonathan yelled as he doubled over for real, hand clenched to the ribs that Jace had undoubtly just bruised.

Jonathan panted, his eyes watering with pain. "Oh you son of a-"

"Help! Help somebody, please!" Jace yelled out into the night, his panicked voice bouncing off the many crumbling headstones and echoing all around them.

"Please! Anybody! We need he-!" Jace broke off as he saw the mouth of the angel open wide, as if it were screaming, before a large hole appeared at its feet, cut there in a perfect square like that of a fresh grave.

Somebody cloaked in parchment colored robes was gliding up out of the hole, their feet making no sound on the steps or the surrounding grass. Jace could see runes sewn into the material of the person's robes-runes for truth, knowledge, and, Jace's stomach gave a painful lurch-swift justice.

Suddenly Jonathan fell to his knees, head bent, pulling Jace down to the hard ground with him.

Jonathan was groaning and gasping, one blood stained hand gripping his side and the other digging painfully into Jace's shoulder, as if to remind him of something.

"Please, we need help. My brother-I don't know what's wrong with him. We were attacked-Forsaken, they were everywhere-"

Jonathan Morgenstern.

The voice sounded inside Jace's head, filling it up with a painful strength and pressure.

He winced, his hand that was not gripping Jonathan coming up to press tightly against his temple, all the while peering up at the shadowed face of the Silent Brother to whom they kneeled to.

You are not welcome here. Taint fills your blood. Be gone from this most sacred place.

Jonathan groaned beside him, and Jace knew that he too heard the voice that seemed to be unrelentlessly pressing down on his brain.

It happened before Jace could inhale his next breath.

Jonathan's cut forearm reached across his lap for the dagger at his side, his knees shot up off the ground and his legs straightened as he slashed viciously at the Brother's throat with his weapon.

The breath entered Jace's lungs painfully, disguised as a horrified gasp.

The Silent Brother's long, wrinkled hands clenched around his throat, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Before he really had a chance to stem the thick flow, Jonathan flipped the blade in his hand, gripped it tight and plunged it down into his robe covered chest with a sickening sound that Jace swore he would hear in nightmares.

Jonathan twisted the hilt hard to the right-and the Brother's knees gave way sending him facedown into the damp-smelling grass, inches from Jace's left hand.

Jace was breathing loudly, eyes wide and stuck on the scarred face that the hood had fallen back to reveal.

A trickle of dark blood escaped from the corner of the tightly sewn lips, and made Jace gag as he realized that the Brother that lie dying in front of him had a mouthful of the thick liquid that he could not spit out.

Jace tore his eyes away and stared up at his brother, not even aware that the dew of the grass he kneeled upon was soaking wetly through to his knees.

Jonathan was silhouetted in the darkness and staring down at the dead body of the Silent Brother he had just slain, with a sneer pulling at his mouth and so much cruelty in his eyes that Jace swore he was not looking upon the face of his brother, but the face of a Greater demon that was shamelessly wearing his skin.

"Jonathan…what did you just do?"