Authors Note: Whew, long chapter. Its the longest one I have done so far. Reward me! LoL. Sorry it has taken me so long to update. Classes have been keeping me majorly busy. The usual disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare. Not copyright infringement intended. yada yada yada. Please feel free to review. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The happier I am, the faster I write.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Hope it isnt getting repetitive. I know that everything is like straight out of the book. I'm sorry :(

On this chapter, I wasnt sure if I wanted to title it 'Jace Wayland, Resident Pedophile' or 'Alec SmackDown' so I closed my eyes and picked one. Which one do you like better?

Jace took in his surroundings as Clary followed him noisily through the library door. He had to catch himself from saying something about how loudly she moved; he knew it wasn't her fault. Sometimes he forgot how very quiet his kind were, and he more than most.

The cozy circular room that was the library held shelves upon shelves of dusty, ancient books, ladders included. It, along with the music room, training room, and the kitchen were Jace's favorite rooms in the Institute. Or at least the kitchen used to be one of his favorites until Isabelle invaded it. Jace wondered what the kitchen would say to Isabelle if it could talk. It would probably sob, 'How could you be so c-c-cruel?'. Or it might be totally incapable of any words at all. That's certainly how Jace felt whenever Isabelle tried to corral him into a corner to sample some of her poison. That and a mild feeling of horror. Give him hordes of demons any day.

Mentally shaking thoughts about bad cooking away, Jace brought himself back to the library. Hodge sat at his desk in the middle of the room and, ah, Alec was sitting in Jace's favorite chair by the fireplace. He wondered if Alec had been hanging around Hodge since their argument, just waiting for Clary to wake up. Right then, Alec was trying to lounge nonchalantly, like he had certainly seen Jace do every minute of the day, but it wasn't working, though. Instead, he looked slightly constipated.

Jace remembered thinking earlier that Alec was probably pestering Hodge. At least he knew his partner well, Jace thought resignedly. He momentarily regretted not asking Clary if Isabelle was doing her nails when she woke up.

A breeze of air fluttered on his face as Clary passed him, walking deeper into the room. He couldn't see her face as she took in the library, but that didn't stop him from looking at her. She was beautiful in a bright and pure way that Jace had never seen before and it almost hurt him to look at her. If it did hurt, however, he doubted he would be able to stop. Jace prided himself on his appreciation for beautiful things.

A flash of blue caught his eye. He dragged his gaze from Clary and moved them to…Alec's glowering eyes. Well, at least they were all starting things off right, thought Jace acidly.

Hodges voice brought his eyes back to the center of the room. "A book lover, I see. You didn't tell me that, Jace." Jace smiled; he should have known that Hodge would open the conversation with something like that. He was ridiculously proud of his dusty books.

Jace followed the path Clary had taken to the desk and laughed. "We haven't done much talking during our short acquaintance. I'm afraid our reading habits didn't come up." He saw Alec twitch in the chair by the fireplace. Alec was going to have to get over this little thing of his, Jace thought. He was being absurd.

Then Clary turned around and glared at him, too. Jace was really getting tired of the glaring. Everyone needed to go get laid or acquire a decent sense of humor. Preferably both, if at all possible.

She turned back to Hodge and said, "How can you tell? That I like books, I mean."

Hodge replied with, "The look on your face when you walked in. Somehow, I doubt you were that impressed by me," as he rose. Jace felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. Though his tutor was definitely interesting to look at, he wasn't the type of man to impress teenage girls. That was Jace's area of expertise.

Jace saw Clary suck in a breath. What was wrong with her? Absurdly, he wondered for a minute if she was impressed by his old, Rupert Giles-like tutor.

"This is Hugo," Hodge explained. Oh, she had been freaked by the bird. Sometimes, Jace didn't know who was worse, Church or that damn bird. Probably Church, though. At least that bird didn't have free access to the whole Institute like that cat did. "Hugo is a raven, and, as such, he knows many things. I, meanwhile, am Hodge Starkweather, a professor of history, and, as such, I do not know nearly enough."

Yeah, thought Jace, if by knowing many things meant that Hugo knew exactly when to crap all over the book Jace was reading, then sure, the bird was intelligent.

He heard Clary laugh and couldn't help but stare. He watched as she extended her hand to Hodge and introduced herself. "Clary Fray." Why didn't he get such a cordial introduction? His had been more along the lines of, 'Why are you following me? Go away. I'm calling the police.'

"Honored to make your acquaintance." Hodge certainly knew how to get to the point in a way that didn't offend anyone. He was probably demonstrating for Jace, who didn't care who he pissed off when he wanted something. "I would be honored to make the acquaintance of anyone who could kill a Ravener with her bare hands." In fact, so would Jace, but he wouldn't be thinking about honor if the bare-handed killer was female. He would be thinking about how hot it was.

Clary blushed and looked mildly uncomfortable. "It wasn't my bare hands. It was Jace's—well, I don't remember what it was called, but—"

"She means my Sensor," Jace supplied. "She shoved it down the thing's throat. The runes must have choked it. I guess I'll need another one. I should have mentioned that." That, like Clary's reading habits, was one of the things Jace had forgotten to tell Hodge.

"There are several extra in the weapons room," Hodge said, sparing Jace the briefest of glances before he turned back to Clary. "That was quick thinking. What gave you the idea of using the Sensor as a weapon?" Jace figured that the shove-age had less to do with an actual plan and more to do with Clary not wanting to die, but before she could enlighten them, Alec decided to enter the conversation. Jace wondered how he had been keeping his mouth shut for the past few minutes.

"I can't believe you buy that story, Hodge." Jace fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't want to fight with Alec.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Alec." Oh, God. Hodge was going to make Alec spell it out for them all. "Are you suggesting that she didn't kill that demon after all?" Jace wondered what kind of conspiracy theory Alec had worked up to discredit Clary.

"Of course she didn't. Look at her—she's a mundie, Hodge, and a little kid, at that. There's no way she took on a Ravener." Jace couldn't help but to look at Clary. She did kind of look like a child. He supposed he should feel like a pedophile right about now, but he couldn't summon up the proper volition.

Clary wasted no time in defending herself. "I'm not a little kid. I'm sixteen years old—well, I will be on Sunday." Jace made a mental note to remember that.

Ever the advocate for logical, unbiased thinking, Hodge confronted Alec with that bit of information. "The same age as Isabelle. Would you call her a child?" Jace wanted to snort. He didn't think Isabelle had been a child for a long time.

Alec, clearly thinking on a different level than Jace, said, "Isabelle hails from one of the greatest Sahdowhunter dynasties in history. This girl, on the other hand, hails from New Jersey."

God, Alec was stuffy. Jace suspected that that, combined with his 'hailing from one of the greatest Shadowhunter dynasties in history' would end up earning him a shiny title and lofty status in the Clave one day.

Clary, upon hearing what Alec said, had turned a remarkable shade of red. He wondered if she would hit Alec. She certainly looked like she would. He would have to move fast if she did, though. Alec had a few certain—prejudices against Clary, it seemed.

"I'm from Brooklyn! And so what? I just killed a demon in my own house, and you're going to be a dickhead about it because I'm not some spoiled-rotten rich brat like you and your sister?" Jace wished he had a camera to document how Alec's mouth fell open and his eyed bugged out. He doubted anyone had ever talked to Alec like that before. Jace thought it was good for him; a valuable character building exercise, if you will.

Alec, still in shock, said, "What did you call me?"

Jace laughed. He just couldn't hold it in anymore. Though Jace would have loved to let Clary repeat herself, he figured Alec might do her bodily harm if she did. Quickly he diverted attention from Clary to himself. "She has a point, Alec. It's those bridge-and-tunnel demons you really have to watch out for—"

Alec bounded to his feet and exclaimed, "It's not funny, Jace. Are you just going to let her stand there and call me names?"

Poor Alec. He must still be in shock from Clary's assault to think that Jace would defend his asinine, out of line behavior. "Yes," Jace said. "It'll do you good—try to think of it as endurance training."

Alec narrowed his eyes at him and said, "We may be parabatai, but your flippancy is wearing on my patience."

Alec was pissing him off. Plus, he should know by now that Jace just really didn't give a damn. Why was Alec fighting this so hard?

"And you obstinacy is wearing on mine. When I found her, she was lying on the floor in a pool of blood with a demon practically on top of her. I watched as it vanished. If she didn't kill it, who did?"

"Raveners are stupid. Maybe it got itself in the neck with its stinger. It's happened before—"

You've got to be kidding. Really? "Now you're suggesting it committed suicide?"

Alec, backed into a corner by his own words, finally got to the point he was trying to make. "It isn't right for her to be here. Mundies aren't allowed in the Institute, and there are good reasons for that. If anyone knew about this, we could be reported to the Clave."

Hodge chose this point to reenter the conversation, saving Alec from the scathing remark Jace was going to make. "That's not entirely true. The Law does allow us to offer sanctuary to mundanes in certain circumstances. A Ravener has already attacked Clary's mother—she could well have been next."

Jace saw the high color leave Clary's face and he wanted to move closer to her and touch her hand or shoulder, but—Operation Clary is Just a Girl.

Not yet ready to concede defeat, Alec changed tactics. "Raveners are search-and-destroy machines. They act under orders from warlocks or powerful demon lords. Now, what interest would a warlock or a demon lord have in an ordinary mundane household?" He asked Hodge, before turning hateful eyes on Clary. Jace had never seen Alec react to a human like this before. "Any thoughts?"

"It must have been a mistake." Jace, who was a staunch Clary supporter in this battle, knew that this couldn't be true. Clary's house had been the target; there was just no other option.

Alec voiced the general idea of his thoughts. "Demons don't make those kind of mistakes. If they went after your mother, there must have been a reason. If she were innocent—". Alec should know better than to go provoking a girl who was known to shove large objects down throats.

"What do you mean innocent?" Clary had gone utterly still, fixing Alec with a look that was both calm and dangerous at the same time. Jace would know: he had that look down excellently. And at the moment, if a fight broke out, Jace would have to bet not on his best friend being the victor, but on the tiny girl in front of him. Though he knew nothing good would come of an Alec Smack-down, Jace would pay money to see it.

Alec, finally seeming to have regained his senses, looked ready to do some major backpedaling. "I—"

Sensing danger brewing, Hodge said kindly, "What he means is that it is extremely unusual for a powerful demon, the kind that might command a host of lesser demons, to interest himself in the affairs of human beings. No mundane may summon a demon—they lack that power—but there have been some, desperate and foolish, who have found a witch or warlock to do it for them."

"My mother doesn't know any warlocks. She doesn't believe in magic." She paused before adding, "Madame Dorothea—she lives downstairs—she's a witch. Maybe the demons were after her and got my mom by mistake?"

Hodge looked extremely surprised. Probably wondering why Jace hadn't mentioned the 'witch' that lived in the same building as Clary, and also why the 'witch', if she was in fact one, had let Clary discoverer her identity. Downworlders usually kept their true identities secret from the mundane world, for obvious reasons. "A witch lives downstairs from you?"

Choosing to elaborate, Jace said, "She's a hedge-witch—a fake. I already looked into it. There's no reason for any warlock to be interested in her unless he's in the market for nonfunctional crystal balls."

"And we're back where we began," Hodge said as he petted the huge bird on his shoulder, mirroring Jace's thoughts from a few days ago. "It seems the time has come to notify the Clave."

This took Jace by surprise. "No! We can't—"

"It made sense to keep Clary's presence here a secret while we were not sure she would recover, but now she has, and she is the first mundane to pass through the doors of the Institute in over a hundred years. You know the rules about mundane knowledge of Shadowhunters, Jace. The Clave must be informed." Jace knew all too well the Law. Mundanes could not know of the Shadow World; if they knew that monsters existed, the chaos would become uncontrollable. Clary would be sworn to secrecy, at the very least. At the most, however, the Clave could have a warlock make her forget she had ever discovered the Shadow World and blind her to Sight so she would not see it again. This, Jace knew, could not be, because Clary was not mundane.

"Absolutely," Alec was all too eager for this option to never see Clary again. "I could get a message to my father—"

Jace couldn't let this plan go any further. He had to speak up and explain. This was going to suck. "She's not a mundane," he said, looking down into his lap. He almost didn't want anyone to hear him.

Of course, Jace couldn't be so lucky. Hodge's eyebrows rose so far into his hairline that Jace feared they were lost forever. Alec choked on his words so badly that Jace contemplated administering the Heimlich, and poor Clary just looked lost and confused.

"But I am," she told him.

"No, you aren't."He met her eyes before turning to Hodge, and took a small gulp of air to steady himself. He hadn't been this nervous in years. He would be lucky if he wasn't in a jail cell in the City of Bones by nightfall. "That night—there were Du'sien demons. Dressed like police officers. We had to get past them. Clary was too weak to run, and there wasn't time to hide—she would have died. So I used my stele—put a mendelin rune on the inside of her arm." Jace could see Hodge's face turning purple, while Alec's had lost all color. How could he explain that Marking her had been the better—hell, the only option? It was either Mark her, knowing that she had a chance, however small, or so he had believed, of becoming a Forsaken, or he could have done nothing, and then she would have died for sure. "I thought—"

Before he could finish, Hodge exploded. He had never seen Hodge that color before and he suspected it probably boded somewhat ill for him. "Are you out of your mind?" He asked as he hit the desk with the hand on his uninjured arm. "You know what the Law says about placing Marks on mundane! You—you of all people ought to know better!"

Instead of feeling chastised, Jace wanted to snarl at his teacher that it was because he knew better that he did it, that he had suspected that Clary was at least part Shadowhunter. "But it worked," Jace ground out, resisting the urge to add 'obviously'. "Clary, show them your arm."

Clary looked questioningly at him, confused, before she held out her arm for them all to inspect. The Mark was only barely visible, a ghost on her slender and pale arm.

"See, it's almost gone." This conversation was starting to exhaust Jace. "It didn't hurt her at all," he said, which was probably a lie, but he said it in reference to the bigger Clary-is-still-Clary picture. The first Mark was always supposed to be painful because one hadn't had time to get used to the burn yet, and then there were the dreams. Jace wouldn't know because he was trained to feel pain differently than others. Like as in not at all.

Jace had been conditioned from birth to be the perfect warrior. He had learned how to block out pain the old-fashioned way, the hard way, because a perfect Shadowhunter had no weaknesses, pain included. When he was injured, pain was carefully, meticulously controlled until an iratze could be applied. This, though combined with many others, was part of the reason why Jace received his first Mark at such a young age. The dreams had been horrible, were still horrible.

Jace hadn't known until his father died and he had moved to New York that he was different. But he wasn't complaining. He was trained to be a killing machine. So what? He was good at it and he loved being a Shadowhunter. Having no weaknesses didn't make him a better Shadowhunter; it made him the best.

Hodge's voice brought him back down to earth. "That's not the point, he said, voice wavering with anger. "You could have turned her into a Forsaken."

Like Jace didn't know that, hadn't thought of the repercussions. Before he could defend himself, Alec jumped into the let's-verbally-abuse-Jace party; he looked like Jace had betrayed him somehow. "I can't believe you, Jace. Only Shadowhunters can receive Covenant Marks—they kill mundanes—"

Jesus, where had Alec been for the last few minutes of this conversation? Jace hated repeating himself. "She's not a mundane. Haven't you been listening? It explains why she could see us. She must have Clave blood.

Jace saw a slight movement out of the corner of her arm: Clary removing her arm from the center of attention. "But I don't," she said. "I couldn't."

Still looking into his lap, Jace said, "You must. If you hadn't, that Mark I made on your arm…,"and trailed off. How could he explain to her, in a kind way, of course, that if she hadn't had Clave blood she would have turned into an evil, mindless, very stupid and very smelly killing machine? Kind of like Jace, only not charming and decidedly less attractive. He would have to plead 'no contest' on the smell issue, though. There were times when he got back to the Institute when he didn't smell too pretty at all.

Sensing Jace's intent, Hodge intervened. "That's enough Jace. There's no need for you to frighten her further."

Jace leveled a look at his tutor. Would he really deliberately try to frighten a girl who had almost been killed by something that she didn't know existed, something that kidnapped, maybe even killed, her mother?

Well, Jace thought, he might do it if he felt an aversion to the person, like the mundane that hung out with Clary. Jace suspected the skinny mundie must be going insane without her.

"But I was right, wasn't I? It explains what happened to her mother, too. If she was a Shadowhunter in exile, she might well have Downworld enemies."

Clary was in denial. "My mother wasn't a Shadowhunter!" She said it with such force, such finality, that Jace suspected she would be insulting him next if he chose to pursue the subject. His thoughts turned instead to her father; Clary hadn't said her father couldn't be a Shadowhunter.

"Your father, then. What about him?"

A strange look passed across Clary's face. When she met his gaze, her eyes were steely and devoid of any emotion. Like a stone. There was something terribly familiar about it. "He died. Before I was born."

Jace couldn't stop himself from flinching. He hoped no one noticed. It seemed he and Clary had more in common than he thought. One parent dead before you were even born and another killed, or possibly, in Clary's case. Even while reflecting on this horrible similarity between them, Jace couldn't help but admire Clary. She was strong, at least emotionally. Isabelle would have started bawling like forever ago by now. Isabelle wore her emotions proudly on her sleeve and never understood why Jace saw them as a weakness, no matter how many times he lectured her on how an opponent could take what you cared about and twist it against you.

Suddenly, Jace remembered why the look in Clary's eyes a moment before had been so familiar to him: he saw it every time he looked in the mirror.

For a moment, Jace couldn't speak, but apparently Alec had no qualms in doing so. Jace couldn't blame him, though, because Alec didn't know what it was like to be parentless. "If her father were a Shadowhunter, and her mother a mundane—well, we all know it's against the Law to marry a mundie. Maybe they were in hiding."

"My mother would have told me," Clary said firmly, but the steel behind her eyes had grown softer, a little far away. She wasn't telling them something.

"Not necessarily. We all have secrets." Jace should know. He so many things he never tell anyone.

Clary's face brightened suddenly. "Luke, our friend. He would know." However, as quickly as it came, the brightness faded and her eyes became slightly frenzied. "It's been three days—he must be frantic, she told Hodge. "Can I call him? Is there a phone?" Then she rounded on Jace, her green eyes huge and pleading. "Please."

How could he say no? But one just didn't make calls from the Institute's phone to a mundane. You had to ask and have an iron-clad reason. Calling out for pizza, Jace had discovered long ago, was not an iron-clad reason. Jace looked at Hodge for permission, though he was pretty sure Hodge wouldn't be capable of saying no to those eyes either.

Sure enough, Hodge nodded and gestured Clary to the shiny vintage phone behind him. Wasting no time, Clary brought the telephone to her ear and spun the number into the rotary dial, the silver disk flashing in the light after every turn.

She waited a few seconds, almost bouncing on her toes, before Jace heard, "Luke!" That single word carried mountains of relief and affection. Some friend of the family. He wondered if Luke was her mother's boyfriend. "It's me. It's Clary."

A pause, then she said, "I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't call you before. Luke, my mom—"

She broke off. Her face, so excited to be finally speaking to 'Luke', fell. "Then you haven't heard from her." It wasn't a question, but a flat, hopeless statement. "What did the police say?" There she goes again, babbling about the police.

Another pause. "I'm in the city. I don't know where exactly. With some friends. My wallet's gone, though. If you've got some cash, I could take a cab to your place—"

Aw, she thought of them as friends. He was wondering where her wallet had gone off to (Isabelle was probably rifling through it that very moment) when he heard her making plans to leave the Institute. She couldn't leave yet: she could still be in danger. What was she thinking?

Before he could protest, her face screwed up and she almost dropped the phone. "What?" she demanded.

"We could call—," she began, only to seemingly be cut off again.

Then she began pleading, "But I don't want to stay here. I don't know these people. You—"

So much for them being friends. Jace couldn't hold it against her though. Not when she looked like her whole world was coming down around her ears. Hell, her world was coming down around her ears. He watched, disturbed, as her eyes filled with tears. She hadn't cried when she admitted her father was dead. She hadn't cried when the Ravener attacked her. She hadn't cried when she found out her mother was missing, possibly dead. She hadn't cried when she woke up in a strange place with strange people who told her strange things.

He wondered what Luke was telling her. He should be ashamed of himself.

"I'm sorry, she said. What could she possibly be apologizing for? "It's just—"

Jace thought Luke could use a few tutorials on courtesy. He didn't think Clary had finished a sentence the whole time she had been talking to him.

This time, however, it appeared that Luke was done interrupting Clary. She lowered the phone and stared at it for a moment, eyes haunted, before clumsily dialing again. The bastard hung up on her? No one could ever call Jace heartless again.

Suddenly, she brought the phone down onto the base, quite reminiscent of how she threw her phone to the pavement outside the poetry reading the night of her attack. She sure was violent for being so damn tiny.

Jace, who had moved over beside Alec's chair while she was talking to show Alec that he hadn't forgotten about him, watched her standing in front of them. Her back was ramrod straight and her head held high, but her hands were shaking and her eyes, fixed somewhere on Hodge's desk, gleamed.

"I take it he wasn't happy to hear from you?" Jace asked her, carefully.

Clary just kept staring. Was she going to go full-blown catatonic on them? Geez, he'd rather she would just cry.

"I think I'd like to have a talk with Clary," Hodge said. Jace settled himself against the wall and the chair. He wasn't going anywhere. Talk on, Hodge.

Hodge narrowed his eyes at Jace, seemingly reading his mind. "Alone," he added.

Alec's butt left the chair in a millisecond. Jace supposed he was eager to leave Clary's company. "Fine. We'll leave you to it," he said, starting towards the door.

Jace looked at Alec, irritated.

Jace came away from the wall, ready to do battle. He wasn't sure what Hodge was going to talk to Clray about but he was sure she would need support. Besides, as far as he was concerned, he had a right to be here, a responsibility, even. "That's hardly fair. I'm the one who found her. I'm the one who saved her life!" Seeing that he hadn't swayed Hodge, he moved on to Clary. She would want him to stay. "You want me here, don't you?"

A muscle leapt in her jaw as she clamped it shut and she turned away.

Jace stiffened while Alec laughed. Obviously, she finally did something that Alec approved of.

Apparently still smarting from earlier, Alec told him, "Not everyone wants you all the time, Jace."

Of course, thought Jace. He would have to remember that. Besides, he had almost forgotten: Clary was just a girl. It didn't matter.

"Don't be ridiculous," was all he said, though. If it didn't matter, then why did it bother him that she didn't want him there? "Fine, then. We'll be in the weapons room." He didn't add the 'If anyone decides that they do need my help'. That might give away the fact that he was disappointed.

He strode to the door, Alec following him. He wouldn't let himself look back.