The apartment smelled of everything familiar; old books, oils, herbs, freshly baked cookies, and dust. But there was a hint of the unknown lacing the room; perfumes, soaps, the scent of the Pacific and L.A. air through the opened window. The walls were decorated with timeless pieces of art and contemporary works. There were bookshelves overflowing with thick leather bound books, small novels, and everything in between.

Jace eyed the shelves inquisitively. There were more books than he thought could fit in a single apartment here, and they looked well read and expertly cared for. Tessa really loved books, he thought resisting the urge to reach out for an old copy of Wuthering Heights sitting on an end table.

Tessa came out of the kitchen, pulling her hair up off her neck as she did so.

Tessa was a warlock; she looked around nineteen, and had so since she was actually nineteen in the late 1870's. Tessa was also a Shadowhunter, like Clary and Jace, and her husband James Carstairs. As far as anyone knew, Tessa was the only Shadowhunter sired by a demon, since all the others were stillborn. She was also Jace's great-great-great-grandmother, which he had only just learned at the end of the Mortal War against Clary's demonic brother.

"I'm surprised to see you two again," Tessa lowered herself gracefully in an armchair, still tying her hair up. "You were just here a few weeks ago to see Emma and Julian."

"We need some advice," Clary was spinning her stele through her fingers. If she was not drawing she needed to do something with her hands. Jace knew she was trying to break that habit, but since they were in a relatively safe place she stopped thinking about it.

"I'm not sure I'll be of much help," Tessa sank back in her chair, tucking her legs under herself. "I haven't been a Shadowhunter in a long time."

"We were hoping you might have read something that could help. Or maybe, dealt with something like it before," Jace pulled his attention away from the bookshelves to look at Tessa.

"It might help if I knew what you needed help with," Tessa smiled with a gentle smile.

"We were in Maine, checking up on the members of the Conclave there, when our Sensors started going haywire."

"They malfunctioned?" Tessa's brow furrowed marginally as she looked between Clary and Jace.

"No, not exactly a malfunction," Clary's brow furrowed as she answered Tessa's question; "they were acting really weirdly though."

"That sounds like a malfunction," Tessa folded her arms over her chest. "What were they doing that was so odd?"

"I think there's a demon there. A demon that ran away rather than fight; and it took a Mundane with it," Jace answered, careful to use the full terminology referring to mortals. He did not know how Tessa would react to the current slang.

"It abducted a Mundane?" the warlock asked.

"It was with the Mundane girl, they had been together all day," Clary answered.

"Is it possible she was a demon too? Or a warlock?"

"My Sensor didn't register her as a demon," Clary drew her Sensor from her pocket. It did not register Tessa a demon either. So the girl could have been a warlock, with a glamour to hide her markings. It was not uncommon for warlocks to hide their appearance, to stay inconspicuous in light of the Cold Peace.

"The demon seemed really protective of her," Jace continued. "And she was trained to fight. They both were."

"But they still ran?" Tessa touched her finger to her chin, thinking. It made as little sense to her as it did to Jace and Clary. "Is it possible the Sensors were wrong? That these two were fellow Shadowhunters?"

"The Sensor registered the guy as demon, no one else. He panicked when he saw the Seraph blades," Jace shook his head.

"Most people panic the first time they see a blazing Seraph blade," Tessa responded coolly, though not unkindly. "I was rather terrified the first time one was lit in my presence, and I was in the safety of the London Institute."

"Then what was it?" Jace asked.

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Jace, I'm sorry." Jace frowned, leaning forward over his knees, his fingers laced together as he stared at his hands. "I think the only way to get your answers, is to find this demon and ask."

That had not been an answer they had been hoping for. They had hoped that Tessa had some reference to give them about something similar. If it had happened before, the Clave would have documented it, and Tessa would have read about it, or at least heard about it since she helped run the London Institute when she was a Herondale.

"Is it possible James knows anything?" James had spent over a hundred years as a Silent Brother, the keepers of knowledge in the Silent City. He had had access to all of the Nephilim's history, since the time of Jonathan Shadowhunter in the thirteenth century.

"Even if he does, I'm sure he would give you the same advice," Tessa reached for her cell phone, checking to see if James had called or texted her. "If it happened before, it won't be like it was last time. Times have changed, few people know that as well and Jem and myself."

"So you don't have any other advice?" Clary asked, slightly crestfallen.

"I'm afraid not Clary," Tessa tucked her phone in the pocket of her lounge pants. "But if you like, you can wait for Jem to come home. He might have something to add."

"No," Jace stood up, starting for the door. "We need to go back. I want to learn who that guy is. He wasn't Marked, and neither was the girl."

"They didn't act like demons either," Clary stood up, stilling the stele in her hands. "It was just odd."

"Jem should be back soon," Tessa offered again.

"Tell him we said 'hello' then," Jace started for the door, sliding his hand into Clary's as he did so.

"Good luck," he heard Tessa call as the door shut behind them.

"That wasn't much help," Clary commented as they descended the steps to the first floor of the apartment building.

"It might have been wishful thinking to believe Tessa had heard about something like this," Jace agreed. "But now we know something."

"What?" Clary's brow furrowed as she tried to pick what Jace had learned from the conversation with Tessa.

"This is first time something like this has ever made it to earth."

The sky was an inky black. On the eastern horizon a pale light was forming. Daybreak was closing in, and Patch had been out all night.

He had been looking for the pair that attacked him. He had thought they were tracking him, they had been tailing him until the fight at the store. Then they vanished, completely.

What was worse was that no one else was aware of the black clad, well inked teenagers armed for war. Was it possible he had imagined it? No, Nora had the heavenly weapon she had taken from the fiery red-head during their encounter.

Who were they?

"So we meet again," Patched turned to find the girl standing the middle of the sidewalk. She held nothing in her hands, but Patch knew that could change in an instant. He had seen her at the store, how quickly she had armed herself when faced with a possible threat. She had been trained well.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," the boy stepped out of an alley behind Patch. He bore a sword in his left hand, his eyes shining in the light given off by the sword. His tattoos were stark against his white-washed skin.

Patch felt renewed panic swell in his chest. He had thought little about the tattoos earlier, he had been more concerned with the fact that they might have or planned to hurt Nora. But now that he stood face to face with them, without worrying about Nora's safety, he recognized the symbols.

The pair were tattooed with words of heaven.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" he asked, trying to keep his panic at bay. He knew they were not angels; they did not act like angels though the boy looked like one. And they would have recognized him as the only Fallen Angel left on the earth, the one who had stopped the destruction of heaven from a war-crazed Nephil.

"Your kind are not suppose to be on earth," the boy answered. He was cocky, arrogant, like Hank had been; like many of the Nephilim Patch had encountered over the centuries. "We've come to fulfill our mandate."

"Mandate? From who?" Patched took an involuntary step back from the boy, who seemed the more threatening of the two. Had the Archangels come for him?

"Our mandate is to protect the Shadow World, and the human race, from filth like you," the girl spoke with spine chilling ferocity. Patch turned to find she had also taken up one of the glowing swords, though hers had not been ignited yet.

"I haven't done anything to hurt the mortals here," Patch looked between the pair of them, wishing he had something solid behind him so they could not sneak up on him. He could see the symbol for silence stained on their arms. "I saved them; and the Nephilim residing here."

The boy scowled, his golden eyes darkening as he advanced slowly. "If you saved them, where are they? What happened to the Conclave here? Why can't we reach them?"

Patched opened his mouth to respond, but before he could make a sound the girl was rushing toward him. "Dumah," she spoke in a barely perceptible whisper, lighting the blade that was arching over her head, meant to descend upon Patch.

He dodged aside, narrowly avoiding her blade and rushing to give her room. He had been right, she was expertly trained. Just as quickly as her attack had started, she changed her direction, pivoting on her foot and taking off at a run after Patch.

Her companion needed no encouragement to join the battle. With his glowing heavenly blade he rushed past the girl, catching up to Patch a lot quicker than the Fallen Angel liked. During the rush, the boy had gained another weapon, another of the lighted blades; "Harut."

Two of the glowing blades came for Patch on the right side, from the left the girl charged foreword. Patch leapt up, trying to avoid the weaponry. He failed, just barely.

The girl caught his side, the blade tearing through his shirt and abdomen. Fire burned through him, he allowed nothing to show though. He could not take on the both of them at once, he realized a little too late.

Clary knew she had hit him. She knew she had made a solid connection with the clothes the demon wore. She was just a little confused as to why the Seraph blade had not banished the demon to another plane.

It was possible her hit was not enough. That would be the first time in several months that that happened. Jace would be so disappointed, but it would not last. She had made first contact, he would be proud of that.

"Clary," Jace shouted, tossing one of his Seraph blades to her.

She was not the best with her left hand, but she was good enough. She caught the weapon and spun around to where the demon had landed, leading with both of the blades aimed at the chest of her adversary. Beside her Jace pulled another of weapon from his belt, his favorite sword, and joined her in the assault.

All four of the blades came to a jarring halt mere inches away from the demon. Held at bay by the Seraph blade Clary had lost earlier to the mundane the demon had snatched. Behind the blade stood a girl bearing a striking resemblance to Clary, with the same determination in her eyes.

Jace growled, retracting his blades quickly and readying himself for an attack or to charge the demon again. Clary met the girl's eyes. Why was she protecting this demon?

"You're not hurting him," the girl spoke with the same determination Clary imagined she used while threatening people. "Not anymore."

"Step aside, mundie," Jace straightened, his shoulders squaring as he looked down on the girl and the demon she protected.

"Nora stop," the demon turned to look at Jace and Clary. "You can't fight them."

"Of course I can, Patch. I'm not letting you do this alone," she did not look away from Clary, she was not going to back down. "And you can't do this alone either."

"Listen, girl. You don't know what you're dealing with," Jace spoke as calmly as he had to Clary when they first met. "This is something you wouldn't understand."

"The only thing I have to understand is that you're attacking Patch. I've got that down," she turned her attention fully to Jace, her eyes narrowing in hatred. "If you want to keep going, I'm going to help him."

"We can't fight her, Jace," Clary stepped back from the girl, lowering her Seraph blades to her sides. "It's against the Law, or the Accords, if she turns out to be a Downworlder."

"She's no Downworlder," Jace hoisted his Seraph blade, pointing it at the demon. "Why does she defend you, demon?"

"Demon?" the demon and the girl spoke at the same time. "He's not a demon," the girl continued as the demon came to his feet, his hand holding his side where Clary had wounded him.

"Our Sensors say otherwise," Jace returned his sword to his weapons belt and dug his Sensor out from his pocket. As soon as he turned it on, it started beeping, indicating that there was a demon in their immediate vicinity. "I don't know what kind of lie he gave you, but I'll tell you right now; he's dangerous," Jace looked directly at the girl.

"He saved my life," the girl protested. "He's only dangerous to people who attack him."

"And I'm not a demon," the demon stood up straighter, fighting not to show how much the wound on his side hurt him. "I'm a Fallen Angel."

"Lucifer was cast from Heaven," Jace kept his calm. "He was fallen and became the King of Hell."

"I'm not like Lucifer," the demon inhaled sharply. "I saved this town from the Nephil army."

"That's why the Clave can't reach the Conclave here," Clary turned to Jace. "He's managed to dispose of them." He made no comment, gave no outward sign that he had even heard her.

"He stopped a pointless war," the girl protested heatedly.

"Protecting the world from demons is the highest priority. We're trying to save the world here," Jace returned. "Demons cause war, they thrive in it."

"Patch isn't a demon!" the girl snapped at them. "He stopped my father's army from destroying everything."

"You're a Shadowhunter?" Clary narrowed her eyes at the girl. "You're not Marked, you're unarmed…"

"You're keeping company with a demon," Jace finished, turning his full attention on her. "You've broken the Law."

"I haven't done anything!"

"She isn't part of this," the demon interrupted, taking the Seraph blade away from the girl and tossing it on the ground. "I'm the one you're after."

"I'm afraid we can't just let her go. She has to answer to the Clave about what happened here," Jace pointed his Seraph blade at her chest. "Sed lex dura lex."

"The Law is hard but it is the Law," the demon translated, and once again took the girl in his arms and ran off; vanishing before either Jace or Clary could do anything.

The touch of cool metal was reassuring in her hands. It was strange how in just a few short months the weight of a weapon in hand had become a comfort. It was strange, but she welcomed it. If she was weaponless, she would be dead…several months ago.

Her hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, looking down over the sandy beach. A lot had happened in those few short months. Patch had done some reconnaissance, learning about the pair who had attacked them and the organization they worked for. In that time, they had seen several more pairs of the Shadowhunters roaming the streets of Coldwater.

Nora and Patch were in hiding for the time being. Until they could convince these people that Patch was not a threat, or they gave up the hunt. Nora believed that day was a long way off, not only were the Shadowhunters looking for her and Patch, but they were working with other Nephilim trying to set up a Conclave, and local branch of their cult.

"Nora," she turned to see Vee walking across the cliffs toward her. "I've been looking for you."

"Hey Vee," Nora greeted, her grip loosening marginally. "Long time no see."

"I have news, those Shadowhunters finally cleared out."

"For good?"

"I think so, no one's seen any for almost a week now."

That hardly meant they were gone. Sometimes they were invisible, and they could move without making any noise. But Nora smiled anyway, for Vee's sake.

"Maybe," she agreed. "I just have a bad feeling about all of this."