City of Wayward Sons

by ValykirieRevolution

Set in between 5x04 -5x08 and the beginning of City of Ashes. As Sam, Dean, and Castiel struggle to stop the end of days, Clary and the shadowhunters are at a loss to defeat Valentine. After a chance encounter in NYC team free will and the nephilim are forced to work together to save the world. Various pairings and warnings inside.

9. White Stone Teeth

Disclaimer: Nope, if you know em' I don't own em'. Don't worry, I'll give em back.

Warnings: Torture of demons, familial angst, violence, brief hustling, vampire issues, and non-con mind wipe.

AN: Sorry about the late-ness, but it is just in time your hopefully a lovely holiday for ya'll. This is as much a breather episode (blatant lies!) as a supernatural fic can get. Same as TMI too. Characters from Holly Black's Tithe-verse show up. Hope you enjoy

Word count: 17,626

Chapter 9: White Stone Teeth.

As Idris passed through the night, its future uncertain and grim. Halfway across the world, one was still awake, just as worried. Meanwhile in New York City, affairs continued to be carried out in the city that never sleeps. That was true for hunters as well as the rest of the producers, shakers, and captains of industry. Simon wondered what was happening, feeling as cut off as he could in his room, and his ceiling was unfamiliar to him.

Jo and Ellen were staying in some cheap motel, leaving him with his brewing ideas. It had been a couple of days since Clary had left, taking a piece of him with her. In the meantime, the holding down of the fort was easy to do. Hence why he was in his room, but the lack of communication from Idris was becoming worrisome. Ellen and Jo were brainstorming.

"I should be with them." Simon said aloud.

He had been trying to do normal things; go to school, leave the house with friends, but it was harder than he anticipated. The hour dragged by. Now that he could walk in the daylight, he could actually do things. He didn't have to worry his mother by pretending to be sick, dreading a doctor's appointment. School had just begun, the hours even more grueling as his cravings didn't listen to his schedule. After all, he couldn't just pull out a bag of blood to snack on in class could he? No, he had to wait until he became pale and shaky, to sneak into the bathroom, rushing into the stall, and rummage through his backpack for his blood.

Blood was somewhat easy to get now that he knew how to get it. Magnus introduced him to a butcher with The Sight, a hedgewitch that lived in Greenwich Village. Now that he didn't have to rely on Magnus to get his blood, the only trouble was to get away to get it. His mother, who was usually so laid back, was now suspicious of his every move. That in turn, made Simon jumpy and quick to make excuses. He hated lying to his mother, to his friends, who he blew off when his thirst got too bad for him to go anywhere.

'Well hindsight is twenty- twenty.' He thought with a grimace.

His idea, more solid than before since his inspiration left with a smattering of downworlders had given to him. They had finally reached a boiling point. Simon grabbed his phone and headed for the door.

SPNTMI

Jo Harvelle brushed a clutch of curls out of her face as she padded down the halls of the Beth Israel hospital, ghosting past the bustling day shift of nurses and patients. For all intents and purposes, she was invisible as she walked past the nurse's station, taking the stairs, and flitting into the desired room. Visiting hours be damned. Jocelyn was laid out on the bed like sleeping beauty, red hair fanning out on her pillow.

"Hey there. How you doing?" Jo asked.

She never felt silly when she spoke to the woman, as she had been doing for the past couple of days. Jo had taken it upon herself to check on Jocelyn in Clary's absence. If their position's had been reversed, she'd want someone to look in on her mother. Besides it gave her something to do, as it was too quiet on the front. Suspiciously so and it made her think that Sam was correct when he said the devil was in Idris.

As for New York City, for such a large place, it was difficult to find any jobs. Probably because shadowhunters policed things so tightly. Any other time it would have made Jo grateful, but now with nothing to burn off her energy it was a nuisance. So that was another reason she was at Jocelyn's bedside. She looked so helpless, so doll-like in her borrowed bed. She had an IV hooked into her, but she was breathing on her own, chest rising in a steady little rhythm. Jo stared, sitting down in the hard plastic chairs that really needed to be replaced. She'd stay for an hour, as she had the schedule memorized and no nurse made the rounds on this floor when Jo came in.

After a few minutes she went up and into the bathroom to splash a little water on her face. Jo stared at herself in the mirror, watching the way her eyes moved as the water dripped down her chin. She jumped; a door had clattered open and someone stepped through. Jo's guard went up at the surprise, which grew at the content of the stranger's voice. Sharp and mocking.

"Well, hey there. Long time no see, you old bitch." A pause, as if listening to an imaginary reply. "Yeah, that must suck, but you know what?" The voice lowered. "Your little slut of a daughter? She's never gonna see you again."

Jo crouched low, pulling the knife from her boot and not daring to breathe too loud. Machines beeped in shrill alarm as the subtle snicking of tubes being pulled and moved beneath the increasing frantic monitors. Someone was unhooking Jocelyn. Definitely not a nurse. Jo edged closer to the door, trying to peer through the crack. The bed creaked with additional weight, groaning under the strain. She lifted the knife higher and got a closer look. A woman wearing nurses' scrubs was straddling Jocelyn, pressing a pillow into her face. She couldn't move, unaware of what was being done to her. Jo bared her teeth. With a firm grip on her knife, she pulled back the door, and took the nurse at a flying tackle. Jo crashed into her, pulling her arm back and bringing the knife down, burrowing it into the nurse's shoulder. The nurse thrashed and Jo hooked her arm below the woman's neck, barring her sternum with enough force to get a gasp in response. She bucked in an effort to throw Jo off. Jo pressed down hard and the combined weight made the bed shudder as they tussled on top of Jocelyn, who was absolutely still. Jo's free hand scattered wildly, knocking the pillow aside and it fell to the floor. The nurse tried to pull the knife out of her shoulder, but Jo was quicker, driving the blade in deeper.

The nurse turned her head, almost impossibly. "You really shouldn't be here."

"Same to you." Jo growled.

"No. You really shouldn't be here." The nurse's eyes turned black.

Jo rattled off the exorcism, wrapping the demon in her arms as it lashed out. It threw its head back at the sound of the Latin, screaming as the black smoke wrenched itself out of the nurse's mouth. The thick column of it travelled upwards, twisting as it forced its way through a ventilation shaft above Jocelyn's bed. It broke the vent's cover off its hinges and clattered to the ground, narrowly missing Jocelyn's head.

The nurse leaned back, her weight falling on Jo. Grunting, she gently disentangled herself from the nurse, who was beginning to come to.

"Uuurgh." She moved muzzily. "…Wha...wha…t happened?"

She turned and realized she had a knife in her shoulder, and began to wake faster, panic in her voice.

"Oh God. Oh-oh…oh…oh God. Wha-what's-" she started to scream.

Jo pulled back her fist and hit the nurse in the face. The woman slumped, eyes rolling in her head before her eyelashes fluttered shut as she fell into unconsciousness. Jo lay her on the bed beside Jocelyn, careful to keep her on her stomach. Jo went to the window, peeking through it before closing the blinds.

'Not much time. Shit.'

Jo went over to the nurse, pulling the sheets away from her body, keeping them on hand. She put one hand on the nurse's shoulder to brace as Jo grabbed the knife handle in the other and yanked hard. The nurse groaned once before falling silent. Jo let the knife drop and put the sheets to the wound, applying pressure. Blood soaked through, drenching her hands. It was a little deeper than she thought. Her eyes locked on the doors, breathing through her nose, heart pounding too loudly.

'No cameras in this room, farther away from the nurse's station and even further away from ICU. Emergency is on the ground floor, morgue in the basement, and probably not too far from security. At least the psych ward is upstairs. How long ago did she leave the nurses' station?"

Jo looked underneath the sheets and was relieved to see the bleeding had finally stopped. Unfortunately, the wound would need stitches. She probably didn't have much time to do them herself. She put the sheets back on. The amount of blood couldn't be easily concealed; only one sheet remained clean by some miracle. Jo rummaged through the cabinets, finding a small suture kit for the nurse and dredging up a few more supplies for Jocelyn. She stuffed them in her bag, and then set to work on the nurse. It was a messy patchwork, not her best at all, but it'd have to do. Jo went into the bathroom to clean up. She wiped down her prints and scrubbed at any blood she could find. She needed to get rid of the bloody sheets and hide them somewhere. A bit of blood had gotten on her jacket, too dark to clean. She shed it, along with her top shirt, leaving only the tank top beneath it. She bundled them together with the sheets and stuffed them in her bag. Now for Jocelyn.

Jo went to the older woman, who was still lying on the bead, head lolling. She was halfway underneath the nurse and Jo had to use her arm like a carjack, putting it beneath Jocelyn shoulders to brace as she used her other hand to tug at Jocelyn's hips. Jo tugged hard, careful not to jostle the nurse. Jo spread her feet apart, digging her heels into the linoleum and Jocelyn moved, coming out from under the nurse. Jo moved closer and lifted with her legs as Jocelyn's full weight came down on her. She grunted as she struggled to get a good hold of Jocelyn; the older woman's legs hit the metal side bar of the bed. So Jo used her hands to pull Jocelyn's legs closer to her. Now freed, Jocelyn, with no support other than Jo, collapsed on top of the younger woman and it took a few minutes to get Jocelyn into one of the plastic chairs.

Jo went over and situated the nurse to the center of the bed, pulling the covers over her, and stepping back. Jo opened the door a fraction. The hallway was empty.

'But for how long?' she bit her lip. 'If there was one, there's probably more. Hell, maybe half the staff at least. Either way, someone will come looking. If they were sent to kill Jocelyn, they know about Clary. Chances are they know more than we do.'

Jo went to the room's window, opening it and looking down. It was at least three stories up. Not enough to kill but break something, even if the person was unable to tense their body.

'Crap, I can't do this by myself.'

Jo pulled out her cell phone.

SPNTMI

Simon felt his phone buzz in his pocket, insistent and heavy. He shifted in his seat. Simon let it go. Turning in his seat, he rested his elbows on his desk. He had already been late for classes, teachers glaring whenever he came into the room in the middle of their lectures. His phone buzzed again, loud enough for the entire class to hear. It kept going, uncaring of the stares and giggles. The teacher in particular glowered at him.

"Some pressing matter Mr. Lewis? Somewhere to be?"

Clary's face flashed in Simon's mind and he clenched his fists. Simon gave a hopeless little laugh as his phone vibrated anew. He tried to take it discreetly out of his pocket, but he was being scrutinized by the whole class. Jo's name flashed on the caller ID and a snap of shivers went through him. Simon clambered out of his desk, grabbing his backpack.

"Yeah actually." He called to his teacher as he raced out the door.

He ignored the flabbergasted reply and the jeering of his classmates. He raced down the hall and flipped open his phone and Jo spoke before he got the chance to.

"About time you answered. I'm in deep shit."

"What? Talk to me."

"Demons are at the hospital. One just tried to kill Jocelyn."

Simon took the stairs two and three at a time, going out a side exit, coming out to the parking lot and past the track.

"Are you guys ok?"

"Yeah, we're alright, but it's not safe here anymore. I need you to get a car and pick us up, because I can't lug Jocelyn around all by myself."

"O-ok, how?"

"I dunno-just swipe some keys or hotwire one. Just hurry, we'll rehash when you get here."

Jo hung up without preamble but Simon understood. If demons were targeting Jocelyn, chances were they were doing the same to Clary.

SPNTMI

Simon's breath rattled heavily in his chest, despite not needing to breathe. Eric's van in front of him, the keys that he lifted from Eric's jacket hot and slippery in his hand. Simon's head darted back and forth, but he was the only one in the parking lot. He unlocked the van. Simon clambered into the front seat, slamming the door and starting the car. The radio blared to life, base thumping an aggressive strain of rock n' roll. Simon jumped, struggling with the controls. He gritted his teeth; it was the only sound in the parking lot.

He narrowly avoided hitting a car turning, which blared its horn in exaggerated anger. Simon gripped the wheel tight as he sped to his destination, blowing through at least three stoplights, and swerving around midday traffic. He swore as he drove over a curb to the Beth Israel hospital, parking haphazardly in between two spaces. Deja-vu assaulted him as he flipped open his phone and dialed Jo. She picked up on the first ring.

"I'm here at the back parking lot. I've got a van."

"Great, Thanks! Be by the window in Jocelyn's room. It's on the third floor, the middle one. It'll be open. Stay on the line."

"Kay."

"It's on the south edge of the building."

Simon nodded even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it. He could feel his legs pump, but the familiar ache was gone. He stayed away from sight, trying to find the open window.

"Simon, here."

He looked up in time to see her blonde head pop out. She waved him over, face tense with what he was beginning to recognize as a rock-in-a-hard-place game face. Simon stood below the window, fingers closing the phone shut and stuffing it in his pocket.

"Catch!"

Before he could ask, she pulled out of the window and another woman was put in her place. Simon's noise of strangled disbelief was cut short out of necessity as Jo began to push Jocelyn through the window. The older woman's head swung eyes still closed, unaware as her limbs hung limp. They moved only on Jo's direction as she tried to maneuver Jocelyn without losing her grip. She seemed heavy, slow to move as Jo got her into position. The blonde kept one arm around Jocelyn to prevent her from leaning too far to edge of the windowsill. In any other situation, it could have just looked like a woman lounging and enjoying the outside. Simon ignored the sinking feeling that eyes were watching them, certain someone would stop them. He stared up.

He spread his arms wide just as Jo's limbs outstretched out with the force of the push. His neck cricked, making him dizzy, vision tunneling as Jocelyn tumbled. Her limbs lacked direction, doing nothing to brace for impact as they flopped against gravity. Her red hair hit her in the face, each strand lit like fire to Simon's vampire eyes. Despite only being three stories, Jocelyn's lack of resistance made her fall faster and gave more weight to her as she crashed right into Simon's waiting arms. The impact sent him reeling, barely able to close his arms around Jocelyn before he went sprawling to the ground, Jocelyn prostrate over him. He groaned, hearing a sudden burst of giggles from above. He squinted up to look at Jo, who was leaning out, unable to help herself form calling out.

"Not every day a woman's laying on top of you, huh Lewis?"

Simon opened his mouth for a retort, the surname Fray on the tip of his tongue before he remembered who he was talking to. He cleared his throat.

"Ok, what now?"

Jo sobered. "Now it's my turn."

Simon nodded briskly and began to move, wriggling out from under Jocelyn. He rolled her away from him, stood up, and rushed to the window. Jo ducked through, gripping the ledges of the sill with tight knuckles as her boots struggled to tread the brick wall. He remembered how her arms stretched out just a moment ago, luminous despite being halfway in the shaded florescent lighting.

Now Jo looked down, eyes sweeping over her leap. Simon gestured for her to hurry and she leapt. Jo bent her knees, keeping them steady as her arms flailed. She was as silent as Jocelyn, her blonde hair fanning behind her like a pennant. The expression on her face would be burned in Simon's mind forever. Eyes wide in concentration, as if absorbing all she needed and seeing him in the same way he saw her. Her mouth only opened once, but Simon couldn't tell if she was speaking or not. Jo fell against him, sending him staggering. As soon as he caught her, she wrapped her arms around him, bracing as her legs shout out to keep them from collapsing. Jo pulled him back when he swayed, his hands tight on her. The two swayed out the momentum.

Simon could smell Jo's shampoo, her thick hair surrounding him, tangling in his lips. Her heart beating rapidly next where his would, pumping lusty blood to the rest of her body. Overwhelmed by the sudden idea of her blood so close by, rich in scent and probably even more so in taste. He cleared his throat and Jo pulled away. Simon gestured to Jocelyn.

"What now?"

"We've got to move her. Did you park close by?"

"Yeah." Simon moved to Jocelyn, picking up her legs. "There were only a couple of other cars out there."

"Good."

Together, they lifted Jocelyn up. Ducking low, they used bushes for cover as the two carried her in the grass, pulling sharply back whenever a camera was spotted. It was slow going as patients and staff alike walked past. When Simon pointed out the van, as they hid themselves in a corner. They waited for a nurse to go back into a side entrance before trying to bolt across the parking lot, legs stomping as Jocelyn lurched in between them. Simon thought of native hunters carrying a pig on a stick, so Lord of the Flies that he had to bite back hysterical laughter. They shuffled beside the door and Simon unlocked the large sliding side door. Jo pushed forward and Simon leapt back, nearly tripping as he tried to get himself and his half of Jocelyn inside at the same time.

"Go go go go." Jo urged.

Simon tumbled inside as Jo pushed herself in. As soon as Jocelyn was secure, he feet inches from the door as Jo slammed it shut. Simon scrambled into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life and Jo grabbed Jocelyn tight to keep her from sliding. There were no seats, just the space for the band's equipment. Most were in cases to protect them, but that didn't stop them from being over turned due to Simon's speeding. He held back his panic in order to focus on what Jo was saying.

"So where do we go?"

"That motel eight next to the overpass. It's by one of the numbered streets, down on-"

"Yeah, I think I know where that is."

Jo gave him directions anyway. She scooted closer to the driver's seat, making sure a wayward guitar case didn't fling out at them as Simon swerved down a street. They pulled into the parking lot of the motel, its tall sign dark and silent. Simon let them out and Jo ran up to the room door, rapping hard as Simon waited by the van. The door creaked an inch, but once it was known who was knocking the door was thrown back wide. Ellen took one look at Jo's expression and assumed the worst.

"What's happened?"

Ellen looked from Jo to Simon, who slid the van door to reveal Jocelyn.

"I'll explain."

SPNTMI

She did. Once inside Jo began with her visit and elaborating on how she fought off the nurse and ending with their escape from the parking lot.

"I'm pretty sure that some of the other staff are possessed and if killing Jocelyn was on the to-do list, they must be pretty confident that whatever's happening in Idris is to their advantage.

"Maybe." Ellen said, but nodded all the same. "We don't have enough to know what that is."

"You haven't heard from them?" Simon asked.

Ellen's voice was tight. "No."

"One thing that bothers me." Jo said. "Demons or not, us kidnapping a hospital patient is something they have to report, especially since I'm sure I've been recorded on camera."

Simon's eyes widened as she continued.

"So that's one place we can't go back to, which might have been their intention all along."

"To pin us down." Ellen stated. "You think this is a trap."

"Wait wait wait. They know you guys are here?" Simon asked.

"In all probability" Ellen said. "Which is why we should stake out the institute. See what comes out of the woodwork." She continued at Simon's look of confused worry. "This is probably our only chance to see what's really happening."

Simon nodded. "I'll come with you." He fidgeted. "That brings me to my idea."

Both women stared at him expectantly. Simon cleared his throat.

"Well, I have this idea. Magnus and Luke kinda gave it to me. When they heard Clary went to Idris that it was in danger. They got reinforcements right? Not just Sam and Dean and them, but downworlders too. I thought if they could do that why not me? So want to do my part. I want to rally the vampires."

After a few minutes Jo spoke. "Not the ones that nearly killed and turned you? We barely got out of there as it is."

Simon paused, deflated briefly before looking back at Jo with a determined look. "I know which is why we go in prepared. We've got two hunters and a vampire that can walk in the sun. So yeah, I think we got a chance. Besides we need all the help we can get and I want to help."

At those last words, Ellen's gaze softened. She took a breath then nodded.

"Alright then. However, we should do it after the institute, to gain more information." She became even more serious. "If your plan becomes too dangerous, if they don't agree, we will have to fight our way out. If that happens, we won't go back, understand?"

Simon nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Jo cleared her throat. "Also-what do we do with Jocelyn? I mean she was attacked and it's probable that it'll happen again. We can't leave her here defenseless. So my idea, is what if we found a way to wake her up?"

Simon was almost tempted to say, 'Don't worry, Clary is taking care of it.'

He realized that might not be true. He swallowed hard. If that was the case, then if it was his mother, he would want to see her looked after, not left behind. As if sensing his thoughts, Jo added.

"I know if it was my mom, I'd want someone to help her."

At this Ellen squeezed Jo's shoulder and Simon had a feeling that the gesture would have lasted longer if the situation wasn't so grim.

"Then how?" Ellen asked. "Her coma is downworlder magic in origin, which means we'll need someone who knows someone. Any contacts for that?" her last question directed at Simon, who shrugged.

"I'll go downworld, ask around."

Ellen nodded. "Then let's get started.

The three formed their plan. The first thing they agreed on was that it would be too dangerous to go to the institute without all three of them, but since Jocelyn needed protection she would have to be cured first.

"So what's the best place in downworld to get info?" Ellen asked.

Simon shrugged. "Well downworlders have to hide in plain sight, because they try to blend in with humans. So what's a good place to get info in general?"

"A bar." Jo said.

Ellen nodded and turned to Simon. "Although, people who have to live off grid can recognize one of their own and have exclusive places for themselves. Know any places like that?"

"Hang on, lemme think…wait, Freaky Pete's-the werewolf bar, and-"Simon slapped a hand to his forehead. "Of course, why didn't I think of it sooner? Pandemonium. It's an all-ages nightclub that's popular with both mundanes and downworlders."

Jo nodded. "Then let's try them."

Simon nodded back. "We'll split up. I'll go see Pete and you go to Pandemonium. I'd say the other way around, but…well anyway, I know where it is." He rattled off the addresses.

"I guess that leaves me with Jocelyn." Ellen said, not without some irritation. "Well, someone has to do it. Just keep in touch."

SPNTMI

Simon made his way to the Hunter's Moon easier than expected. He walked down the alley where he knew Maia to have walked, to have witnessed a gruesome murder that ultimately took her own life. It was still the same shoddy walkway, littered with debris of drunken, frayed lives that are unacknowledged by many. It reeked of sex, spilled beer, wet dog, glass, iron, sweat, and old blood. Trash blew and glittered on the ground, illuminated by the starry sky. Simon wondered if Maia saw it like this. Had been terrified on a night like this, in a place that was comforting in its trashiness, its roughness. In a place that was comforting and oddly beautiful for a dive. Simon's eyes stung, unable to truly describe what was happening to him, only knowing that Maia was a sweet girl.

That thought was what gave Simon the strength to open the side entrance and push his way inside. The bar was the same too. Same smoky, low-key, rough n' tumble atmosphere. The décor hadn't changed either, but then Simon hadn't expected it to. It was quiet, only a few patrons sitting at the booths. A lone wolf at the bar, passed out at his stool and behind the counter washing a glass was Freaky Pete. He looked up when he heard the door open and when he saw Simon he sensed what had come through his bar. Freaky Pete's eyes narrowed but he said nothing as Simon sat down on a stool. He didn't stop cleaning his glass.

"You look a little young to be in here." He said.

"I don't want a drink." Simon replied. "Besides I can't anyway. Not legal."

Freaky Pete raised his eyebrows at the honesty and his soft voice tinged with impatience.

"Then what are you doing here, little vampire?"

"I need your help. Some downworld news."

Freaky Pete stared at him with weary eyes. "…And because I'm a downworlder, I know these things?"

Simon chose his next words carefully. "No…because my friend Maia is dead and I want to give her justice. I was there-on the ship. I bet you know that. I bet everyone does."

At these words, Freaky Pete slowly set the glass down and Simon noted that his hands were shaking, but when he looked at Simon his gaze was clear and steady. Simon felt his respect for the werewolf rise and he would not let himself look away.

"Then you best tell me what happened."

So Simon did.

SPNTMI

The pulsing lights of the nightclub hurt Jo's eyes, putting her on the edge. The heated press of the clubber's bodies was almost sensuous. Remixed trance music's pounding base made the floors shudder. Glitter stuck to the probably alcoholic liquid that had been trampled on. Someone already handed bright white tablets to her with a bland smile and a wink. A girl wearing nothing but glowsticks was speaking to a boy that held a large plastic ball that he tossed to the crowd, and then the song abruptly changed into a heavier beat.

She could see why people liked these places. Back when during her brief college days, tenuous girlfriends took her along with them to clubs before they realized they had nothing in common. She unnerved them with her knife collection and obscure myths. The rhythm of the club still stayed with her though, the memory of how to move settling over her like a second skin, almost like the way it was on a hunt. With her mind on her mission and her mission her mind, she began to look for downworlders. It really depended on where you looked, if you knew what to look for-and Jo did. Eyes too vivid a color, a shimmer that had nothing to do with sweat, or just an otherness.

Jo moved her body, hips going in a slow grind. Letting herself brush against bodies, feeling their own touches and becoming heated with it. The only thing she let sharpen was her mind, allowing limbs to appear limp. The silver and iron a comforting weight against her, especially as she felt a hand stroke her ass and a voice croon in her ear.

"Lovely maiden. Come, melt into me."

Jo's mind stuttered, shorting out for a moment at the blissful blankness that was beginning to engulf her. The telltale shivering in her gut snapped her out of it, telling her to pay attention, and not sink down. She turned around, letting her body undulate like it was balancing a hula hoop. The boy…man was pretty, almost beautiful. With skin that was smooth as a girls' and as airbrushed as a models'. He had nice proportion, especially in the face. A slim nose, thin eyebrows, thick eyelashes, full lips, and eyes so blue that they were almost violet. Her gut trembled again as his hands pinched her bum lightly before pulling her close by the belt loops of her jeans. She briefly glanced down at his hands. There was something wrong with them, as if they had their texture photo shopped and she knew she'd get dizzy if she continued to stare. The veins in his hands squirmed as if he had vines beneath his skin. Between each finger there was slight webbing at the base of each digit, enough to cling the finger together if they wanted. His fingernails were clean and painted with a soft sheen of polish. She didn't need the sight to know this was a faerie.

'Gotcha.'

Jo gave him a liquid smile and pressed close, grinding into him until she could hear the intake of his breath shift into something quicker. Her gripped her harder, more insistent. He nodded his head in a direction on the left and Jo played the part of the glamoured mundane and followed him down the employees entrance. Without preamble he slammed her into the wall, writhing against her, hands roving over her jeans. Her breath hitched as he unbuttoned her pants, and his fingernails lightly scratching her as they undid her zipper.

"N-no wait."

He nuzzled into her neck. "Whatever for?"

"I-I don't even know your name."
She could feel his minor stirring before grinning against her cheek. "Call me your Pleasure."

Jo pitched her giggle. "Fine I will."

She bucked her hips and mewled. She blinked slowly, giving him a glazed expression as she made her breathing fluttery and let her chest heave. Pleasure leered at the display and then threw his head back and laughed as Jo made her cries louder. She grabbed him firmly by the shoulder, yanking him down to her and placed another hand on the front of his pants. She gave the bulge a squeeze and began to rub the spot vigorously, feeling it increase to ridiculous lengths. He groaned, thrusting into her hand, trying to get to the rest of her.

His finger played with her thighs, pinching high beneath the zipper. It made her squirm, but she kept a good grip on him and he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, hot breath panting against her skin. Another waved of dizziness overcame her and she struggled not to let her thoughts gloss over. She had the impression of a small voice in the back of her mind soothing her, trying to keep her from speaking. It was harder for her eyes to stay open and focused. A bolt of fear snapped her eyes open. Her breathing came out in short pants, breasts pressing against his chest, hyper aware of the fabric of his shirt-that it flickered in and out. Whatever he was truly wearing tearing at the flannel of her shirt.

It snapped her back into awareness. She didn't know how he'd be able to tell that she snapped out of his glamour, so she grabbed him hard enough that his next yelp was one of pain. Her grip was firm enough on his generous bulk that when she spun him around, she led him like a dog on a leash, and she slammed him against the wall. With her free hand she pulled out the long bar of cold blessed iron and pressed it against his crotch.

His eyes narrowed in fury, the violet hue suddenly brighter and the pupils narrowed into catlike slits. She tried not to stare directly at them, feeling her mind becoming woozy when she tried. He smirked when he saw the effect he was having and her subsequent fury cleared her head. When he tried to move, she pressed the bar harder against him and he hissed out his words like a curse.

"Shadowhunter."

"Easy guy or I unzip your pants."

"Well what can I do for you?" He drawled.

"Well, it would give me a lot of pleasure if you told me all you know about cursebreaking."

SPNTMI

"So why do you think I know this?"

They sat in Freaky Pete's office, the drink in Simon's hands only a customary politeness as the desk between them as loud as a shout.

"Well you've met all kinds of people, so I figured that you'd know…some things."

"Well as flattering as that is I'm afraid I don't know too much."

"Anything you know anything at all. Please."

Freaky Pete sighed. "Alright. It depends on the curse. Usually the best in the business are warlocks or one of the fey, but not too sure I know anyone willing to help…"

"Not even to save the world?"

The werewolf ran a hand through his thinning hair and for a split second he looked like Luke, weary and worn. A much older man than Simon originally thought. Someone who had seen too for too little peace of mind. Simon wondered if he would look like that one day, unable to do anything but care. Freaky Pete nodded heavily.

"Not even then. It's shameful, I know, but sometimes I can't really blame them. They-we-have every right to be angry, to mistrust them. The way they want the world to be doesn't have room for us." He shook his head. "I wish I could say that I don't understand why, but I do."

Simon mutely shook his head. Scenes of destruction ran before his eyes. It dragged on; angry people falling one by one until he could no longer tell who was who.

'Enough.'

"Yeah well thanks for your time."

As he made to leave Freaky Pete grabbed his arm.

"Hey, be careful out there, it's getting tense."

"I will."

SPNTMI

"So he's called The Fixer?"

"Yes." Pleasure gasped. "He helps the mundanes, ones who had dealings with the fey."

"Who is he?"

"A mortal with the sight."

"Where can I find him?"

A wheezy chuckle. "He finds you."

Jo pressed the iron harder. Pleasure yelled. "I-I don't know, I swear!"

"Well that sucks." Jo adjusted the iron as if she was going to impale him with it. "This is gonna be a real bitch then."

"Wait!" Pleasure screeched. "I can show you who does!" he held up his hands. "Follow me."

Jo let Pleasure lead her down the hall to the bathrooms. The unisex symbol cracked with age. He pushed the door open, flinching at the iron pressed against him as Jo kept him tightly in place by the wrists. They went inside. It was filthy. Cracked ceramic tiles covered in stains, old bottles, and ratty wires. He nodded to a stall door that was scrawled with graffiti and Jo squinted to see what he was pointing at. Black block letters nestled in between a badly drawn picture of male anatomy and 'Gwen and Stacie 4eva'. It read:

Page the Fixer: 555-1327

Jo glanced back at Pleasure. He nodded eagerly.

"Yes yes."

Jo narrowed her eyes. "If you're screwing with me-"

"A faerie cannot tell an untruth."

"Doesn't matter. I can still find you."

"You nephilim." He spat. "You think you can own the world-"

Jo cut him off. "I'm not nephilim."

Pleasure searched her face and as realization dawned, so did an incredulous and angry laughter, sharp in her ears.

"I-Impossible. A mundane?!"

"Oh, I'm a hell of lot more than that."

Jo punched him in the groin and as he doubled over, delivered a right hook to his jaw, knocking him unconscious. Pleasure tumbled backwards, crashing past the door, rattling it as he landed next to the toilet, his limbs akimbo as his head smacked the bowl's rim.

Jo walked out.

SPNTMI

As Simon and Jo met back up in the parking lot, going over what they learned as Ellen buckled Jocelyn into the backseat of the car.

"So a number on a stall is the only real lead we've got?" Ellen asked.

"Yes." Jo frowned. I know it's not much to go on, but it's all we've got."

"Can't hurt to try." Simon piped up.

Ellen gave a reluctant nod. Ellen pulled out her phone, tapping the keys and putting it on speaker. An automated voice chirped loudly in the air.

"Hit the pound key. Then dial the number."

"A pager?" Simon asked.

Ellen nodded. They waited, not speaking, before the phone suddenly started to ring and Ellen flipped the phone open, the speaker still on.

"Who is this? How'd you get this number?"

The voice was crisp with something like suspicion. Simon and Jo exchanged at look.

"Are you The Fixer?" Ellen asked.

"Yeah. What do you want?"

"I heard you can break curses."

A pause and the voice was weary. "Yeah."

"Where can we meet?"

Another sigh. "Look it's late-"

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency. You're the only one who can help us."

"Fine. Riverside drive on the Upper West Side."

"Thank you."

The Fixer hung up.

SPNTMI

When they finally got there, Simon peered up at the building. An old, almost gothic structure, with its dark apartments looking more imposing next to the other complexes.

"You sure this is the place? Pretty fancy…"

"It's what he said." Jo replied, shrugging.

Helping Ellen get Jocelyn out of the car, they made their way to the building. Walking up the porch steps with the two pillars that held up the roof. The door's number hung lazily on a nail, rusty with age and the doorbell on the left had a crack in it, but it rang clearly when Jo pressed it. For a few minutes nothing and then a brief shuffling as someone came down and opened the door. Simon started. He was used to strange sights, the appearances of people varied. This was New York City after all, but something about this guy was different.

He was a young man, maybe Simon's age or a little older. His dark skin puckered with scars and he had metal piercings all about his face. Even a bar of metal across his cheek. His cornrows grown out into full dreadlocks were thick and coiled like snakes, a herringbone poking through them. His most striking feature were his eyes. One was a cloudy white, pupils scarred into uselessness. However the other eyes was a clear sharp brown. They had a quality to them that demanded to be listened to, because what they had to say mattered. He stared unabashedly at the four, frowning in distrust.

"Are you The Fixer?" Ellen asked.

"Depends who's asking. You're the woman on the phone from before." He made it into a statement rather than a question.

She nodded. "I'm Ellen Harvelle; this is my daughter Jo and her friend Simon." She gestured to Jocelyn in her arms. "This is Jocelyn Fray and she needs your help."

"Those are some tats'." He remarked. "Good ink work, get that done in town?"

Jo bristled, but mostly out of confusion than actual offense, but spoke up anyway.

"Jocelyn is a Shadowhunter."

The Fixer nodded. "Huh. So they're actually real? Pretty crazy reputation. I'm Luis by the way." He stared at them all again. "So what are two girls, a Shadowhunter, and a vampire want with me?"

Simon jumped. "S-so it's true? You really do have the sight?"

Luis nodded. "Yeah, but your girlfriends don't." he waved their responses away. "Really, what's going on?"

Ellen spoke up. "We're hunters. Every bad nightmare that's real, we fight. To help people same as you."

"Then you understand why I'm not too keen on letting a vampire in my house. Cuz' they can be just as dangerous as The Folk."
"Don't worry, I'm housebroken." Simon held up his hands with a grimace. "Seriously. I drink animal blood I get from a butcher's shop, paid for and everything."

"Be that as it may, I know trouble when I see it." Luis said.

"Please." Jo cried. "You're our only help." She continued. "Jocelyn's daughter is in trouble-our friends are in trouble and the more hands-help the better. Besides, Jocelyn can't defend herself someone already tried to kill her."

"So it sounds like you'll just be bringing trouble to my doorstep. What's in it for me? I've got people I need to protect too."

"We can pay you." Jo said.

Simon whirled to face her with a surprised glare. Ellen nodded.

"She's right. Money's not an issue."

Luis stepped aside and swung the door open. "Then mi casa su casa."

He shut the door behind them after they stepped inside. It was a spacious place, with high ceilings, and the few windows they had were boarded up. The only piece of furniture was a coffee table, chipped and worn rested in the center. A black boy with wild fraying dreads and blank eyes sat next to it, resting his elbows as he ate from a bag of McDonalds. He was skinny, with a kind of hollowness that made Simon flinch and avert his eyes.

Mattresses and thick mismatched blankets were pushed to one side of the off-white, stained walls. Wiring peeked out of the corners like mice, tangling on the ripped carpet, the floorboards showing in some places. A dusty chandelier hung from the ceiling, its brass chains dangling and catching the glimmer from the bare light bulbs that were strewn about.

The kitchen counter acted as a barrier to the kitchen, its counter top cluttered with old fast food wrappers, knives, and a tackle box filled with what looked like hex bags. The kitchen was just as worn as the living room, scuffed surfaces and mousetraps on the floor.

Jo was reminded of old hunter friends, the ones unable to keep much and travelled too much to care. Luis opened the fridge and there wasn't much inside but he pulled out an apple.

"Welcome to my squat." He said, rubbing the apple on his shirt.

"You squat here?" Simon asked, flushing at how obvious his incredulousness was.

"Well it's not the Hilton, but we get by." He bit into the apple. "So let's get a few things straight. That boy over there? Leave him alone, he's got enough shit to deal with right now. Which brings me to my next point. I don't know where you're gonna stay-"

"We won't stay for long. As soon as it takes to fix Jocelyn." Jo said.

Luis scowled. "Fine. I can't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do." He glanced at the sleeping woman. "From what I can tell, it's pretty heavy duty magic, so my price is five g's."

"Whoa." Simon yelped.

"Three."

"Four-fifty."

"Done."

"We'll also show you some protection too." Ellen replied. "I have my tools in my car."

"Fair enough." Luis said.

Luis and Ellen shook hands. Jo stretched and the showed Luis her cell phone, rattling off her number. He wrote it down on his arm.

"I'll give you guys a ring if we run into trouble." She grabbed the car keys.

Jo grabbed Simon's arm, leading him along as she walked out the door. The cool night air heavy with smells of the city as it came alive. Jo unlocked the doors of the car and trunk, popping open a compartment revealing guns, knives, and weapons Simon wasn't too sure what they were called. Jo picked up a small wooden box and opened it. Plastic cards with varying designs, logos, and colors. Small square pictures of Ellen and Jo stared up at them as Jo rifled through them.

"Huh…hmmm." She lifted one up, setting it against Simon as if she was measuring him. Jo turned her head as she hummed. "Hm ok, well, if they ask, say you haven't updated your picture in a while, or changed your hair. Stuff like that."

She handed him a card. The plastic poking his fingers and he stared at the New York driver's license. A brunette with wide coffee brown eyes stared back at him. A face similar but not his own. He stared at the name.

"Max Bherbolm?"

"Yeah I know, but I didn't have a whole lot of options and I don't have much for New York."

"Huh. I guess it never really hit me -that'd you have fake ID's."

Jo shrugged. "Hunting ain't exactly clean living."

"I guess not."

She slammed the trunk and got into the driver's seat, unlocking the passenger side for Simon. He slid in and buckled up.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

She laughed. "Come on and see how the other side lives."

SPNTMI

They drove for at least an hour, Jo asking Simon questions about the city itself. The atmosphere, the rough spots, the rich places, and the poor. Where did tourists go and where the natives went to avoid those spots. He answered as well as he could, pointing out whatever he felt like, playing tour guide and navigator. At last, Jo found what she was looking for, parking in the dirty asphalt in between two trucks that looked like they had seen better days. The two got out and Simon stared. A low slung building made of wood, sturdy and modern, but made to look as if it was worn with age. It had a long wrap around porch. The entire building was meant to imitate an old-fashioned western saloon. A neon sign showed a ten gallon hat and underneath it in a smaller design was a girl wearing nothing but a bikini and cowboy boots. Its name emblazoned in red letters.

"The Kid saloon and grill."

"Howdy y'all." Jo said in an exaggerated Texan accent.

Simon laughed. "What are we doing here?"

"Pretending to be tourists. Just follow my lead."

Jo eyed him for a moment before mussing his hair. Her fingers making his scalp tingle. She finished and handed him a jacket from the backseat. He put it one, watching her apply her lip gloss.

"Aright let's go."

Simon followed, feeling as red faced as an alarm bell, sure that someone would stop them from entering. Did he have some secret giveaway that would stop them from doing whatever it was they were about to do? That didn't happen as they walked right in without a hitch. The music was stereotypical twangy country. The wooden furnishings reminding Simon of a cracker barrel. Paintings of cowboys on the range dominated the cream colored walls. A sign telling patrons to seat themselves was held up by a brightly painted, winking cowboy.

Jo led them to a booth of plush dark brown leather, cool and comfortable as they sat down. The place was busy, but in no time at all, a blonde waitress who couldn't have been more than sixteen flounced over, pen and smile in hand.

"Hey there folks, what can I get ya?"

"Hey yourself." Jo said.

Simon swallowed. Jo had put on a very soft southern accent, but from where he wasn't sure. Not exaggerated enough to sound fake, and just sharp enough to sound like she came from a real place. She continued to speak.

"Well, I'm from out of town and my friend Max is showing me around, because I said I wanted to go someplace authentic and he told me we should go here, right Max?"

Simon hesitated and Jo kicked him under the table. Simon nodded. The waitress's smile didn't falter as she listened, but instead made suggestions.

"Well the house special is always good and the portions are huge. People usually have to have the to go boxes. The burgers here are fantastic by the way."

Jo's eyes brightened. "I'll have that then. A burger and fries. The works please."

The waitress jotted it down and turned to Simon. "And you sugar?"

"Uh…the chili cheese fries with coleslaw."

"OK and to drink?" she asked them.

"Coffee for me." Simon replied.

"Coke." Jo continued. "Oh and can we get a pitcher of beer too?"

"Sure, can I see some ID's please?"

Jo flashed hers so easily that Simon felt a twinge of envy. He watched for a minute, only to be kicked again, prompting him to fumble in his pockets for it. He willed his hands not to tremble as he handed the card over, its' plastic burning his fingers. The waitress looked at the ID's for barely a minute before handing them back and leaving with a cheery,

"Coming right up."

Simon exhaled sharply and looked at Jo, who nonchalantly sipped her water.

"OK, so what the hell was that?"

"I can order beer if I want." She shrugged.

Simon wasn't buying it. "No really, tell me what's going on? How are we going to save Jocelyn by going to a hokey tourist joint?"

"Well for starters, this is one of those places that only tourists and New Yorkers who like irony go to right?" At Simon's nod, she continued. "These places are perfect for grifters. Anonymous and so many people here have holes in their pockets if you catch my drift."

Simon stared back, eyes saucer wide. "You mean stealing?" He winced at how loud his voice went and he lowered it. "You're gonna steal from everybody here?"

Jo gave Simon a look that suggested he had said something particularly dim. "Umm no. That'd be stupid and it's not stealing if they give it to you."

"How are they going to do that?"

Jo turned and pointed to a throng of men surrounding a pool table. One of the players scored a shot and his friends cheered him on.

"See that?" Jo asked. "We'll eat a bit, wait for it to get later. Then we'll go over there. It's Saturday, so they could end up stayin' for hours, especially since it looks like only one of them brought his wife."

"Ah, I always wanted to learn pool." Simon tried to sound casual.

If Jo could see through him, she made no comment. The waitress finally came back with their orders with a sunny smile and a promise to return. Simon wrapped his hands around the coffee mug as Jo bit into her burger. Simon's stomach growled; he couldn't remember the last time he ate, so he ignored the fries he couldn't eat. He watched Jo pour herself a glass of beer.

"Why did you get that by the way?" he asked. "You don't strike me as a big drinker."

She shrugged. "I'm a hunter." She said, as if that explained everything. "Besides, I'll bring it over to the table, then order a round for the players. Drink with them, but not as much as they will. Play a few rounds and get em' drunk enough that parting with their money won't bother them much. That and they won't think much of me, even when they're losing."

"Huh. So pool's a lot like poker, it's all about the person you're playing." Simon stated.

Jo raised her glass. "Bingo."

She tucked into her burger, eyes going between the players to Simon. Her eyes seemed to be musing, maybe worried as she noticed that he didn't touch his food, only keeping his fingers peeled to his coffee cup. She didn't comment at it. Jo left her fries on the plate and grabbed her beer. Simon watched her saunter over, mesmerized by the casual sway of her hips. As confidant as Isabelle, but very different in manner. It looked sweeter somehow, more unconscious, as if it was just the way she walked. It was not an exaggerated come-hither-look-at-me walk. If Simon didn't know her, he wouldn't know that it was an act. She kept her beer closer to her chest as she went over, setting it down on a table as she introduced herself to the players.

Simon couldn't quite make out what they were saying, just hearing the laughter as the man stared at her interest. One pointed to the rack of cue sticks at the two men who were finishing up their game, they included Jo in their round of teasing as the man who lost good naturedly wished her luck. She grinned, putting chalk on the end of her cue stick. The other man set up the set, the triangle encircling the balls, shaking them briefly before removing the frame. The balls kept their formation. The man let Jo go first, a few of them eyeing her as she bent down to take the shot. Her shot wasn't particularly strong but she broke up the balls, none sinking into any pockets. Her opponent, a good looking fellow with a beard, managed to sink a striped ball into a pocket.

The game went on and Simon realized that Jo didn't seem to be very good. The bearded man wasn't particularly good either, but was a good sport about it. Even as his friends teased him about it as he tied with Jo. The man offered her another game and Jo waved Simon over. He took his cue and brought the pitcher of beer with him and she introduced him as her cousin.

"He isn't much of a player, but he loves watching the games. Max's the one who told me they showed pool on ESPN, how cool is that?"

The bearded man laughed, introducing himself as Kirk. The other five were Ricky, Ethan, Antonio, Jack, and Paulie. They cheerfully accepted Max and Jo's offer of a round of beers. Jo laughed along with their jokes, but more importantly, they laughed at hers. They were even pleasantly surprised when she could talk smack as well as them, keeping it light as she watched the others play each other, keeping Simon included as she drank with the men. She complemented their some of their shots. By the fourth round she suggested a bet, at first it was a simple one:

"Fifteen says Antonio beats Jack."

"Well, I disagree with you on that point, but alright you're on." Paulie said.

When Antonio won, Jo pretended to be surprised. Antonio teased her and she demurred and asked if they wanted to keep betting. They agreed. Simon thought he had it figured out. After the initial bet, Jo wasn't the one to suggest the numbers, letting the others bet against each other and when Jo gave another fifteen on Antonio again, her told her:

"Hey make it twenty-five Jo, I won't let you down."

"Ok, if you're sure." A laugh.

"Completely senorita." He called with a wink.

His opponent Ethan laughed. "Hell make it forty. I'll beat you this time Toni."

"You're on."

"I'll go get us some more beers." Jo cheered.

She bought another pitcher on the credit card of Mimi Schwortz and she took her time getting back, returning when Antonio was on a roll. However, Ethan did win and by the time of this beer round, Antonio was cheerful and red faced enough to laugh at it, waving his hands.

"Eh, I'll win it back."

"I'll play winner, unless somebody else wants to." Jo said.

Kirk took a swig of his beer. "No you go for it darlin', I'll play you."

The bets got higher as the rounds increased in number. Jo was thankful that they could hold their liquor well enough to keep playing and she didn't even have to suggest the next betting idea, as Jack did it for her.

"Hey, I got a better idea. How about we pool our money and play tournament style, the winner gets the whole pot and to stay in the game-even if you lose, you put in five bucks."

"Ten." Paulie cried.

"Cool. Like ESPN." Jo grinned.

Jo played a total of ten games, small bets every time, only going higher when the guys teased her. Simon also figured out that the drunker the men got, the better Jo let herself get. Not too much to overwhelm, even losing a few times and kept herself in the game. Then she'd buy another round. They cheered her on, urging her to chug her beer. Simon laughed; she could really throw them back.

The night wore one, the country music continuing to play as the other patrons went on their way. By the time the pot hit 2500, they were the only ones left. Simon was confident enough to buy a pitcher of beer and by the time the pot was 3700, all the men were red-faced and silent as Jo took her turn. Even the wife(she had a feeling she was Paulie's spouse) looked interested. They were evenly matched; Jo's striped balls sparse on the table. She bent low at an angle when the waitress that served them closed the register and called to them.

"Hey, we're closing up in five."

"Thanks."

"Better make this shot count then."

Jo nodded, squatting down, she assessed the board before she stood up and changed the angle and hit. It shot out loud like a crack. She made the yellow striped ball hop over the solid red one. Her red striped balled hit the side and slammed into the green and blue striped balls sending them in either direction. One left and the other right, and both sunk into corner pockets, just as the red striped ball, the last of her balls, tapped the black eight ball so that it was inches from a corner pocket. Jo moved closer, angling her stick tapping it against the red-stripe, propelling it into the eight ball and sinking both into the same pocket.

There was silence for a moment before the six men hollered in astonished cheer. As Jo straightened up, head moving upwards the overhead light glinted on her hair and Simon saw it. Her eyes. They had been sharp in thought and narrow in focus, almost deadly. It was only for a split second that he got to see this before they shifted to become wide and friendly. She feigned surprise and gave praise.

"Well that was the funnest time I ever had at losing, but a kiss before you go?"

Jo leaned forward, giving Antonio a slow kiss on the cheek.

"It was nice meeting all of you. If ya'll are ever in Jackson look me up."

With that, they took their money and left. That night they hit three other bars before having enough.

SPNTMI

When they finally got Luis's, he had some idea of what he was up against.

"Far as I can tell, it's a curse. Warlock made, which means the strength of the curse depends on the maker's skill. Unfortunately, it's a pretty strong one and I talked to a guy I know, he told me what might work." He held up a hand. "I don't know how she's been worked, so I can't give you a specific cure. Because of that, whatever I try won't match what happened to her, so it'll have unexpected consequences."

"Like what?" Simon asked.

Luis shrugged. "What did I just say? I don't know, but it could really fuck her up." He stared at them. "You sure you wanna do this? Maybe it's better for her to wait-"

"We don't know if Clary's even alive." Jo said. "I just know that she'd want to save her mom."

Luis stared back at them for a few moments and then spoke. "Alright then. Here's what I need. Salt, urine, black candle wax, iron, and some DNA of Jocelyn. Like her hair and blood. Also, something of hers she created, that she made with her own hands. That has a kind of magic of its own. Also copper and devil's shoestring, and we'll use one of those circles you showed me. Now there's only one of those things that I can't get."

The three made noises of agreement. Simon's mind whirled, possibilities making him dizzy, and he was surprised that it didn't come to him sooner.

"The painting. Jocelyn paints-I've seen them. She used to sell them, but the ones that she kept. They are…let's see I think Luke has one of them at his place."

Ellen stood up and Jo made to follow her, but the older woman made to stop her.

"There are still a couple of things to do. I have to go to the Institute to see what's happening."

"You aren't going by yourself." Jo said.

"We've got too much riding on this to waste more time-"

"Mom." Jo's voice was hard. "Since that's true then we need everyone. Besides I can handle this. Really." She softened her voice. "I'm all grown up now."

"Jo…"

Simon swallowed, reminded of Jocelyn and Clary, of a conversation they might not get to have. He cleared his throat.

"I'll get the painting while you tow go to the Institute and I'll drop it off at Luis's and catch up to you guys. Sound good?"

Jo and Ellen exchanged glances, long enough to have a discussion before nodding. Luis, who had been watching, now began to gather up what he needed. Ellen called out to him.

"I'll have Simon show you the circle, so do you think you could break the curse while we're gone?"

"Yeah sure. Just don't forget to ward the place before you go."

SPNTMI

Simon stared up at the grey shop, the east river wind blowing his hair. The shop's sign for the bookshop waving with the wind, chains creaking in the effort. The small narrow house was enclosed in chain link fence that Simon hopped over with ease. He kept low as he walked across the lawn and up the brick steps. The spare was not in its usual place, but he wasn't surprised since he went to Idris. Simon's mouth twisted in a grimace.

'And who knows what could have happened.'

Simon grabbed the doorknob, focusing on his hand, letting his strength flow into it. He twisted hard, pushing his shoulder against it and the knob cracked, wrenched out of place with a metallic pop. The door broke, its latch snapped as the hole where the knob used to be gaped, revealing splinters, but beyond that the small hole showed a piece of the hallway. There was no illumination save his own eyesight. Simon pushed the door open and stepped inside. He shut it behind him. Something about the place demanded quiet, a not quite gloomy atmosphere, but something else that put him on edge.

Walking through the kitchen, past the dirty dishes that piled high next to the counter that he and Clary would lean against for hours just talking as Luke organized his stock. He could see it, the lights warm and bright as the kitchen bustled. Himself and Clary not much use as Jocelyn or Luke cooked, since they often took turns. Luke listened to them tell stories of how their days went, laughing at their jokes. So calm-so normal. Simon turned away, the scene fading from his eyes and the dark bare present returning.

"Hmmm." He poked his head into the storeroom. "If I were Luke, where would I keep a painting…"

It wasn't in the storeroom and he could never recall it being in the living room or the shop, so…

"Luke's room."

Simon padded up the stairs, his limbs trembling as he moved past the guest room that Clary had recently called her room. He never ventured into Luke's room. There was no need to really, since it was sacred territory. An adult's room. It wasn't something that Luke enforced, but Simon had been well trained by his mother. Only now did he enter. It was good-naturedly cluttered, books, clothes, and coins in some form of organization known only to Luke. Simon knew he needed no light to see from, even when he couldn't find anything. The shelves contained books and magazines. There were no paintings on the walls or up against them. Luke's bed was made, covers pulled tight and inviting. Simon looked to the closet, a modest walk-in that was partially covered by a spare bedframe. Simon opened it and walked in.

Clothes hung, cluttered together in their hangers, boxes stacked against each other. Simon sat down on his knees and began to move things around until he saw it. A painting made by Jocelyn. He'd recognize her work from anywhere. She had a knack for mixing colors together in such a way that created shades that seemed impossible to replicate. That and along with delicate brush strokes and an eye for detail. It was a landscape painting. Of a place that he had never seen before, so beautiful that it couldn't be real. Green roiling hills that gave way to a thick forest in the distance. A cottage nestled in between those hills; it was a pale gingerbread brown, giving a cozy aura. Far off on the left hand side were shimmering silver towers that impaled the sky with a shade he had never seen before. A peaceful faraway place. The paint was still bright and thick. Jocelyn knew how to take care of her canvases. Simon grabbed the canvas from its sides, careful not to touch the paint as he stood up and walked out of the closet.

SPNTMI

Jo passed Ellen a thermos as he mother looked out from her binoculars. Having to keep watch on a place you could barely see was obviously difficult. Despite Cas having broken the initial illusions that had been placed over them, but they still had to concentrate to really see. The cathedral seemed foreboding in the dark. To the shadowhunters it must be comforting, Jo mused.

'But not to me.'

"See anything yet?" She asked.

"No not yet." Ellen took a swig from the thermos. "But we can't be too careful."

"True." A shadow flitted past the trees, leaves scattering to the ground. "We might have something. At ten o' clock. See that shape over there?" she pointed.

Ellen stared, the nodded. "To big be to be a cat. Maybe a mugger?"

'That would explain the shiftiness, especially in this city, but…'

At that thought, like magic, more shapes appeared. Darting and slinking forward, seeming to fan out around the building. One shadow moved ahead them, becoming distinct as she moved beneath the streetlamp, briefly detailed with the illumination. Rippling dark hair and a leather jacket. Ellen stiffened as the woman made her way to the front of the Institute.

"Mom."

Ellen turned the headlights on, catching the woman in their glare; she didn't bring a hand up to block the light as she glanced at them with black eyes. Meg.

"Go, hurry." Ellen shouted.

Meg moved, hands blurring as she reached from her back and threw a knife at them. It aimed true and both women ducked as it went in the middle of them. A sharp cracking sound made them look up. The knife wedged into the windshield, the glass spider webbing in a crazy pattern. Jo and Ellen grab their guns and ran out of the car. They rushed forward. The shapes quickly proved themselves to be demons and as the two ran harder, they quickly found themselves in the crowd, close enough to be taken down. Ellen uncapped her holy water, going for the face, and shouting out exorcisms as Jo shot them with rock salt. The demons struggled to get inside, some leaping up to the windows, busting the glass and Jo shot them down before they could get inside, watching as they tumbled to the ground, collapsing onto each other.

"Careful of the noise." Ellen called.

Jo replied by lifting a knife and sinking it into the shoulder of a demon. It screeched as the blade had been dipped in holy water.

"We have to find that Meg demon; I bet she's the one in charge." Ellen said.

"Then go on ahead." Jo replied.

Jo rolled away from a demon as it dove to her. Another demon came from behind, tackling her to the ground. It knocked the wind out of her as she inhaled the scent of grass but it was brief as the demon grabbed and turned her over. The two demons punched and kicked her. She struggled to grab her shotgun that lay a few feet away from her on the lawn. Their laughter assaulted her ears, but then a new voice shouted out.

"Hey."

A loud metallic whooshing and Jo looked up in time to see Simon, hitting a demon with a lead pipe. It connected with a heavy ring. Jo wriggled out of the other demon's grasp. It grabbed her ankles and she fell back, but her hands closed around her gun, and she whirled, firing. It hit the demon in the chest, forcing it to fly backwards and hit the ground. Simon went to her and extended his hand, pulling Jo up. She nodded in thanks and he grinned back at her.

"Sorry it took so long to get here. Luis is working on breaking that curse."

Jo shot at a racing demon, it stumbled but continued onwards.

"They're trying to get in but I'm not sure how-"

Simon gasped. "Wait-there's an entrance that they've kept on unconsecrated ground for people to use."

Jo reloaded her gun. "Well then I bet only a few can get there then. Someone tough like Meg."

"Meg?"

"Yeah."

"Then we gotta hurry. Where's Ellen?"

"Already on it. We gotta catch up to her."

The two ran ahead, the demons scrabbling at the walls. One in particular stood out-Meg was pointing out the entrance to the others.

"That's it." Simon shouted. "If we-" He cried out in pain.

Jo turned back to see Simon pushed back as if by an invisible force. He got up and tried to move again, but was forced back. Whenever he tried to bend his knees, they crunched under his weight, unable to support him as he tried to move forward.

"What's wrong?"

"C-Con-se-crated ground." Jo hesitated. "Go. I'll be-"

Jo cried out in alarm as her feet lifted off the ground before she was flung against one of the Institute's walls and pinned there.

"Jo."

Her name was shouted in unison. Ellen ran towards Meg, firing her gun and Meg was blasted back and she threw Ellen into a wall even as she fell to the ground. Ellen's shotgun clattered to the ground as did a small book from her pocket.

Meg walked up to them, her voice brittle with amusement. "I swear, you Harvelles' are just as bad as the Winchesters."

"We try." Ellen grunted.

"Well now what?" she hummed.

Simon stood up with a speed he didn't know he had, he shot forward and slammed into Meg. She hissed in irritation and the two grappled on the ground. Simon's fangs slid out gleaming like polished pearls as he and Meg leaped up. Meg's eyes going black as she grabbed the lead pipe he had taken and hit Simon. As she swung again, Simon grabbed the pipe with his bare hand, gripping it so tight he broke it in half. Meg's uplifted hand then blasted him back onto the ground below Jo's feet.

"Mom's book." She gritted out. "Get it."

Simon struggled to get up as Meg strode to him. He snarled, finally monstrous. His feet resisted, trying to gain purchase as he attempted to stand on holy ground. He managed to stand for a few moments. His legs trembled. He dived for the little book and as soon as his fingers closed over it, the force of it sent him careening back across the ground.

"Page fifteen." Ellen shouted.

Meg leapt up and raced across the other side, and Ellen yelled out something indistinctly, but Simon figured out the warning as the other demons advanced. He picked up a discarded shotgun, taking a shot at Meg and surprised that it actually hit in her in the jaw. She tumbled out of sight. He threw the gun down on the ground and flipped the book open to page fifteen. He began to read. He opened his mouth; it felt like it was filled with peanut butter, his jaw aching with the effort as he rushed forward to the women.

As soon as he hit consecrated ground, he pitched forward. Simon's whole body shook, the power coming from the ground slamming up his body, ripping through it with righteous fury. He fought to keep the book in his hands at the right pages as he sat up and continued again. Simon stuttered over the words, they burned his throat, slashing his insides. The demons were running to them now, almost within touching distance.

He kept going, choking over the words as if they were live creatures fighting inside him, thick with power, and ready to vomit them out. He staggered, almost driven back again. He wished he had something to hold onto. Simon's head swam and he nearly broke his neck turning to look over at Jo. Her eyes held him in place, causing him to straighten up and dig in his heels. He gripped the book tighter, using it as an anchor. His eyes blurred as he read one of God's names, but what Jo's eyes said to him echoed louder in his ears.

He opened his mouth and spoke. The power reverberated inside him, like the strength Jo gave him accelerated it. A storm bellowed in mouth and then he heard himself from far away, voice clear, concise, and unfaltering. Simon's body a mere conduit as he began to shake, being ridden by lightening. Everything coming into white bursts as the power exploded out of him, Latin assaulting the demons, which were forced to make their escaped. Black smoke spiraled into the night sky. It burned and he looked up at the wheeling stars, the exorcism fading.

The sudden aftershocks hitting as the power left, the protection-whatever it was that shielded the Institute still came at him and then he gave one mental shove at the ground, feeling it ripple and subside before finally being overwhelmed. He collapsed to the ground, retching. Bright splotches of blood splattered God's ground and then the world swayed. He felt hands on him and relaxed when he saw they belonged to Ellen and Jo. They were speaking and it took him a moment to realize what was being said.

"I saw where Meg got dropped. I'll get her and bring her back while you bring the car around."

"Gotcha." Jo hoisted him up. "Ok, c'mon big guy. Can you stand?"

He mumbled something, disturbed and oddly excited when he felt blood on his lips. His legs swayed as Jo carried him to the car. He could hear police sirens in the distance. He vaguely wondered if it was because of them. As Simon buckled himself in, he saw Ellen carrying Meg over her shoulder. The woman opened the trunk and shoved Meg inside and running into her seat.

"Go go go."

Jo floored it and as they got further away, Simon's focus began to return. She glanced over at him.

"You ok?"

"Y-yeah." He swallowed thick and slow. "Um…hungry actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He thought for a moment. "Can we swing by my place really quick? It's were my…stuff is."

Jo frowned. "Are you sure you can't get some later?"

"That's not the point."

"You want to see your family." Ellen stated.

Simon nodded. "I just need to see if they're ok."

"Alright just be quick, we don't want to be followed, so we'll be down the block."

From the trunk, Meg kicked in rapid succession, swaying the car. Simon agreed and gave the directions. When they drove up to that familiar red door, Jo barely put on the brakes when Simon bolted out of the car. Suddenly the sight of his home sent a fresh wave of nervousness as he went inside. He shut the door behind him with gritted teeth, tensing as it creaked beneath his hands. As he shut it with a soft but audible click, the lights came on. He froze, one hand still on the doorknob, back to whoever was most certainly glaring at him.

"Simon? Where have you been?"

He turned around slowly, as if being held at gunpoint. His mother was leaning on the kitchen counter. Her eyes red rimmed and wild. Simon felt a stab of gut swooping guilt at the knowledge that he was most certainly the cause of this. She stared back at him, eyes boring into him and he shivered. In all his life she had never looked at him like that. So frantic and immobile and when she next spoke her voice was so calm that he was unnerved.

"I've been trying to figure something out." She sounded as if she was merely musing; Simon didn't interrupt her, something told him she might explode if he did. She continued. "You have been acting strange these last few weeks. Not eating, staying in your room, and leaving all hours of the night. Oh yes, don't think I haven't been paying attention. You drop names I've never heard of-" She cut herself off, choking on her question. "Are you on drugs?" She gestured to him.

Simon looked down at himself, the cemetery dirt still clinging to him, some splotches of blood on his clothes, and he realized that he must smell like beer. He turned, catching a glimpse of his reflection from the mirror in the hall above the table where his mom put her keys. He did look awful. It was a good question. A pale face that looked exhausted and kind of gaunt. His eyes were rimmed with red, almost scratchy, and despite the whites of his eyes being mostly ok, his pupils were dilated. His skin really was paler than usual vampire standard, and his skin had a sweaty sheen. It took him a moment to notice that he was shaking. He turned back to his mother and mutely, minutely shook his head.

She was unmoved. "What else am I supposed to think? Today your school called, said you just up and left in the middle of class. You took someone else's car and drove off. Now you've been gone nearly two days. Where have you been?!" She held up a hand, looking as if she might be sick. "No, don't tell me, I don't want to know, because what I-"

She ducked down clumsily and Simon saw her struggle to reach something. Suddenly, seeing her bent over, made her look old, weary, and lined. Simon shivered, body still going through the emotion, not catching up with physical need.

'Oh God, I'm going to outlive my mother.'

He shuddered, trying to put a lid on the encroaching horror. His mother straightened up and what was in her arms made his breath catch, but he couldn't process it. She dumped it onto the table, glaring at him. Red vials with their contents at various levels of consumption, some of the stuff still clinging to the plastic. Only five bottles of various sizes, the largest one the size of lunchbox milk. His piddly collection of blood lay on the kitchen table.

'Oh shit.'

"I-I can explain-"

"Really?!" she cried. "Because I can't, except that you must be on drugs-this-this is-" she was about to scream or cry. "This is blood! What is this?! A-are you in some kind of cult? Is someone making you do horrible things-"

"No."

"Then tell me! Help me to understand, because I don't. I don't-"

"I'm a vampire."

She laughed and the sound reminded Simon of a scratched record. It was a laugh that took the place of a scream. She became even paler, stumbling to his side and she gripped his shoulders tight. Its strength hurt and she shook him. When she realized what she was doing, she abruptly stopped and looked him in the eyes, her own becoming wider.

"Y-you believe this. Oh my God."

"Mom-"

"You're sick." She tugged at his arms. "We're gonna get you some help, don't worry."

"Mom, I'm a vampire."

"Oh baby."

Simon winced. He could taste the pain in her voice, so thick and choking. She looked half-mad, teeth set in a grimace and her pale face streaked with tears. There was some kind of child-like desperation in her voice. Seeing the wetness in her eyes made his world narrow down to those two points, and all he could think of to help was to show her the truth. He licked his lips and pushed down, the slight shudder of his fangs sliding down into place with a distinct click. That didn't muffle the sound of his mother's gasp.

"T-this is impossible."

"Feel them." Simon opened his mouth wide.

She glared back at him, challenging his sanity, but maybe it was the way Simon looked back at her that made her face harden with resolve. She lifted her slim index finger and touched his fangs. Simon shuddered. It was a strange sensation, to have someone else touching your teeth, their skin sliding over enamel. Letting it squeak. An intimate, yet perfunctory touch and if it was anyone else, he had the vague thought that it could have been arousing. However, with her, it seemed so alien, like it was supposed to be comforting but came out like a goodbye.

She poked the points of his fangs. She stayed still, stiffening with awareness as she pricked too hard and drew blood. The scent cloyed in his mouth, he could taste it. Hunger flared to life inside him. Simon resisted the urge to clamp down, her fingers crunch in his mouth, and blood gushing so he could wrap his arms around her shoulders…She must have sensed his thoughts. She pulled back. Ashen faced, she shook, swallowing rapidly as she tried to speak.

"Oh-oh my-" she coughed. "God. This is real. This is really real, oh God!"

Simon smiled and her face suddenly changed. It became devoid of sympathy and realization appeared. It stayed there for a split second, as if it could only be comprehended for a moment. Then it was replaced by absolute terror, contorting even further until it became doll-like.

"S-so you." She looked at the blood on the counter. "So that's-"

"It's animal blood I swear. I don't hurt other people." He moved closer to her. "Mom-"

She moved backward so fast she nearly tripped. Now he could smell her fear, rank and sour like old milk. It was like she regressed, her fear so acute she gave an animal-like keen.

"Stay back. Just stay away. Stay away from us."

"Who? Rebecca and-" he moved closer to her. "Please Mom, I-I wouldn't, see I'd never-please…"

He realized, as his hunger grew, that he was unable to pull back his fang teeth. He almost choked when he tried. Her blood still on his teeth. She screamed.

"I don't know who you are anymore! Are you even my son?! What kind of monster are you and what have you done with Simon?! Simon!"

She stared screaming his name as if he wasn't really there, or if he was it was someone else. Simon spread his hands open imploring, when she screaming again. It was high and long, never ending. Some part of him snapped. He dove at her, faster than she could react and he wrapped his arms around her, like a frantic embrace, a mantra to be shouted.

Love me, love me, love me!

She convulsed in his arms, hair tossing back and forth, the strands catching the hallway lights. Her neck exposed a pale column that sheathed beautiful veins. Simon put his hands to her mouth to muffle her screams. She went limp in his arms, lips still moving against his hand. The lilting language as familiar as his bedroom. Hebrew. He flinched. The language of the holy; she was saying a prayer, calling for deliverance. For protection.

His eyes blurred. The world shifted to the point where he couldn't see. His cry stuck in his throat. It was too much. The vague sense that he'd never look in a mirror again and he was struck with a sudden terror and a feeling too big to name. He shoved himself back, violently propelling himself into the hallway, and he slammed into the mirror. Glass cracked into his back and falling in his hair. He watched her stumble back and fall into a chair, still mumbling in Hebrew. His vision wavered and then cleared, making a freeze frame in his mind. Preserved forever as his mother. Crumpled on his late father's favorite chair, sobbing and praying as she tried to make herself as small as possible. He straightened up and walked out of the door without a word.

SPNTMI

When they got back to the hotel, Jo, Ellen, and Simon quickly set to work. They carried Meg inside and tied her up to a chair that rested in the center of a bright red devil's trap. Meg watched their efficiency with a mocking smile.

"So…getting ready for story time?"

Ellen's voice was tight. "You could say that. You're going to tell us a story and for your sake I hope it's a true one."

Meg laughed. "So what do you want to hear? Goldilocks and the three bears or little red riding hood?"

"How about the one where the devil visits Idris?"

"Why mommy what big ears you've got."

"All the better to gain intel."

Meg sneered. "Let me guess. You have big teeth too."

Jo moved, swinging the butt of her rifle at the side of Meg's face with enough force to fling her head to the side. Meg spit out a small glob of blood and turned her head back. She raised one thin eyebrow at the blonde, but Jo was unfazed and said,

"No, that's his gig." She pointed her thumb at Simon.

Simon opened his mouth, revealing his fangs, and baring them with a wide grimace. Meg rolled her eyes.

"Puh-leeze. I've seen scarier puppies."

Ellen picked up a bucket and threw its contents onto Meg. When the water hit her, she screamed and shuddered as steam came off of her borrowed body. She eyed the trio.

"Holy water? Guess the foreplay is over."

"We know the devil is in Idris. What we want to know is why." Jo said.

Meg laughed. "Seriously?" she stared at the three of them again, assessing their expressions. "You are. Well, a kid could figure it out."

Jo walked up to Meg with a bottle of holy water, tipped her head back by yanking her hair and forced the water down the demon's throat. She choked, thrashing against her restraints as she tried to spit the water back up. Some of it splashed down the front of her shirt. Jo pushed the bottle against Meg's teeth, the plastic cracking against the canines. Meg gurgled, breathing shallow through her nose. When the bottle was emptied, Jo set it in its place on the table where the rest of the implements lay. Knives, holy water, bags of salt, and the small book Simon used just hours before. Meg retched, spitting more water back up, and it had a pink-ish tinge to it. She looked up at them through her eyelashes.

"Does this Jack Bauer thing really doing anything for you?" Because I gotta say, I'm as dry as-"

Jo poured salt down her throat and Meg spat up bloody chunks. It went on like that for another hour and a half. Jo and Ellen asking questions and Meg taunting. Simon handed them their tools, flinching whenever one of them read snatches of exorcisms, which caused Meg enough pain that they had to gag her. Only removing it to shove something else down her throat.

Jo took one of the knives, a wide bladed one that was at least ten inches and cut Meg just below the collar bone. Jo had to brace with her other hand, keeping an iron grip on Meg's shoulder as she made thick jagged cuts into the flesh. It made wet snicking sounds. Simon swallowed back the bile, the scent of blood spilling over on Meg's jacket, making him dizzy. Demon blood smelled awful and he hated himself for being hungry enough to want it. He covered his mouth as he watched the cut become deep enough to fit a hand. Meg had been slinging slurs at Jo all the while, but she turned her attention to Simon and her voice came out low, even sultry despite the shakiness. Jo began to pack the wound with salt.

"What is it? Never seen a girl get cut before, puppy?" She blew out a breath. "It's amazing. You should try it." She crooned. "Some on, just one little cut….go on, cut me."

Simon gagged and someone banged on the door. Meg watched with delight as all three of them froze.

"You gonna get that?"

Ellen and Jo exchanged looks. Jo quickly gagged Meg as Ellen unholstered her gun, loading it as she went to the door, but before she could look through the peephole a voice shouted through.

"Hey, let me in."

It was Luis. Ellen lowered her weapon and opened the door. Luis took in the scene and his good eye widened but he made no comment as he tugged someone in by the arm. At the sight of winding red hair, Simon yelped in astonishment.

"M-Mrs. Fray."

Jocelyn flinched, eyes widening before they narrowed back into a look Simon had to take a moment to place as suspicion. Luis was unmoved by this and spoke to Ellen.

"As you can see it worked. You've paid me and as far as I'm concerned, I'm washing my hands of this shit." He rummaged in his messenger bag, pulling out a large water bottle, red liquid sloshing inside it. He tossed it to Simon. "Goat's blood. You look a bit peakish."

"Uh thanks."

"Don't mention it. Really."

"We'll let you know if there's anything to watch out for." Ellen said as Luis turned to leave.

He laughed. "Lady, I have to watch out for everything, but I appreciate it." Luis left, shutting the door behind him.

Jocelyn stared at them, entire frame tense as she reached for a weapon. The two other women held their hands up; Jo's bloody but she smiled invitingly. Ellen extended her hand.

"Hey. My name's Ellen and this here is my daughter Jo, and of course you know Simon."

Simon smiled despite himself. "Clary's gonna be so relieved that you're ok."

Jocelyn frowned in confusion. "Who?"

Simon felt his face drain of color, the smile on his face stuttering to a stop. Ellen and Jo exchanged glances, eyes wide.

'Oh so here's the side effects.' Simon thought.

Jocelyn eyed the weapons again and Ellen stepped in front of them.

"Don't even think about it honey." She kept her voice slow. "Now, there's a lot to explain and not much time, so if you could please be patient. We're not gonna hurt you, we're allies."

Jocelyn scowled. "Give me a reason why."

"Fair enough. It's because you're Jocelyn Fray and you were a shadowhunter, but left because your ex-husband, Valentine had committed horrible crimes and is still doing them. As of today, he is threatening Idris-"

"That is common knowledge for Shadowhunters and you are not Shadowhunters. Only one of you is a Downworlder."

"True. We're hunters. Basically mundanes who do the same job you do."

Jocelyn nodded. "What else?"

"We know Luke Garroway."

Jocelyn was unmoved. The name was unfamiliar.

Simon thought for a moment. "Lucien Greymark." He swallowed. "We're his friends and he-"

Jocelyn's voice was tight. "Enough. Explain her."

Meg laughed at the sudden attention drawn her way as she sat straighter and flicked her black eyes. Jocelyn stepped back in disgust.

"I'm a demon."

"An Eidolen? Unusual-"

"No." Meg spat. "Don't you know a demon when you see one, you stupid half breed?"

Jocelyn's gaze turned icy. "I know a monster when I see one."

Meg sneered. "Typical. All an angel's arrogance and a human's stupidity. You're just as much a piece of spawn as I am. There's a hell of a lot you 'shadowhunters' don't know."

"Such as?"

"There are different types of monsters out there. Not just those downworlders you're so fond of destroying."

Jocelyn shrugged. "Fine. That's not so surprising. I know firsthand that the Clave isn't right about everything." She straightened up. "Demon or not. Why is she being interrogated?"

Meg grinned, wide and terrible. "Because Lucifer is going to attack Idris and I know how."

Jocelyn's reaction was extreme, she seemed to sway and go rigid at the same time. She became paper white and looked on the verge of attacking Meg herself, but curbed the desire. Instead she said in choked voice,

"Explain."

Meg turned to the two hunters. "Alright." She glared at them. "Don't misunderstand. I'm not doing this because of your interrogation skills-you've got nothing on Hell-besides it's not information that gonna stop my father, so who cares?" She shrugged in her bindings. "I just want to see the look on her face when she hears this." Meg nodded to Jocelyn. "Your husband is a real catch. After his little uprising he fakes his death and hides out here, makes a plan to steal those Mortal Instrument things. Course you swiped the cup first so he has to track you down. Apparently you saw that coming, knocked yourself out in some kind of coma so he can't get anything out of you. Or maybe not…" She trailed off for a moment before continuing. "Anyway, he jacks the sword-Maellartach and bathes it in the blood of downworld children for a spell-"

"The Infernal Conversion." Jocelyn gasped.

"Bingo. And since that sword's my father's, he wants it back, so you know. So he's teamed up with Valentine. I'm pretty sure your hubby is trying to use the mortal cup-which he has by the way-to make new shadowhunters and kill all the other who don't agree with him."

"Of course." Jocelyn's voice was bitter.

Meg nodded. "He already hit Alicante, something about knocking down the demon towers-"

"He actually found of a way to do that?" Jocelyn answered her own question. "Of course he did."

"Yup. He attacked with ancients. Oops my bad, demons." Meg rolled her eyes. "I hate semantics, don't you?"

"Has he managed to succeed?" Ellen asked.

"Trust me, when he does, everyone will know. This place will become a bloodbath after Idris." Meg leaned as close as she could to Jocelyn. "Lady, your home is screwed."

Jocelyn's jaw was firmly set and her voice steady. "You lie."

"Uh-uh." Meg shook her head. "It's locked up tight now-some fancy spell work-and no one can get in or out. Or something like that." Meg wriggled. "I can't wait."

Lightning fast, Jocelyn struck, leaping like a panther and tackling Meg. The chair toppled backwards, legs scraping against the red paint as Jocelyn dug her fingers into Meg's collarbone wound. The demon writhed, her screams sounding close to hysterical laughter. She opened her mouth, spitting, and spraying Jocelyn with blood. The woman flinched, staggering back as Meg kicked her, boot grazing her jaw. Meg slipped out of her bindings, ropes coiling to the floor. Simon glanced down to see the scratches on the devil's trap, partially worn away. He shouted a warning just as Meg scrambled out of the circle, racing back into the room. The sound of breaking glass-it was the bathroom window she leapt out of.

"So much for that." Jo grunted.

"You will tell me everything."

Simon jumped. Jocelyn had already wiped the blood off her face and levied a machete in their direction. Ellen gestured to the bed.

"Sit down, this'll take a while."

SPNTMI

The drive was quiet for the most part. Jo and Ellen went over the plan as Simon occasionally spoke up. Jocelyn was silent the entire way, but once the radio was on, Jo turned around back to Simon.

"So how'd it go by the way?"

Off guard, Simon stuttered. "I-I uh, not too good, but uh…"He cleared his throat. " I'm not too sure I can…talk about it right now. Maybe later, but not right now."

Jo's expression became understanding. Simon could see the sadness before she buried it and for that he was immensely grateful. Pity or sympathy was the last thing he wanted. He gave a tiny nod.

"Well, when you can, you can."

"Yeah."

There was no more conversation for the rest of the drive and when they pulled up to the Dumort Hotel, there was no one in sight. They all got out just as quietly and Simon marveled at the instinct to keep silent. At how used to the way they prepared for fights. He wondered if this was going to be the rest of his life and banished the thought away when he was handed a machete. Jocelyn was the biggest surprise as well. Simon supposed he shouldn't be, after all, she was a shadowhunter and by the way she handled weapons, she still was. Her eyes blazed with resolve. She no longer resembled the gentle overprotective artist he remembers. She looked bright and sharp with purpose. An angled, more definitive being, one glance into her eyes stated that this woman had killed and would continue to do so. The four walked to the hotel, footsteps soft as they maneuvered through the debris of the street.

"Who is the head of the clan?"

"Er…a guy named Raphael Santiago." Simon said. "He's kind of a dick."

Jo smiled briefly and pointed to the alley. "There's an entrance this way. We'll go the way we came last time."

"Last time?" Jocelyn raised an eyebrow.

"Long story."

Simon and Jo temporarily took the lead, finding the grate by the overflowing dumpster and hefted it up. Jo gave Simon a significant look.

"Stay close to me. Seriously."

"Roger."

Jo went down first. Simon going next, with Ellen close behind, and Jocelyn bringing up the rear. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Simon knew where he was. Although this time, he could see much better and she shoved the memories back down. The place still looked the same; the ruined grandeur of the hotel still invoked the sense of going back in time as the got to the grand staircase. Simon didn't have much time to marvel, the only difference was that this time, the vampires came sooner, rippling out of the darkness. Simon groaned.

They came in all directions, but Simon instead focused on the top balcony at the center. The three women fanned out, still close enough to reach other easily, but the formation was a familiar one. A semi-circle that spread away from Simon, almost encircling him and he realized it was because they were outnumbered and giving him cover.

"Dios, what do you want this time?"

Raphael himself appeared, as though he had just stepped out of the past in his flowing white shirt and black pants. The same delicate face was molded into a cool disdain. He stared down at them, gaze becoming wary when he saw Jocelyn.

"Shadowhunter."

She inclined her head. "Vampire. We have something to discuss with you."

"Discuss." His sharp laughter was derisive and abrupt. He cut himself off with an angry exclamation. "Is that why you've all come, armed to the teeth, bringing this so called Hunter with you?" he spat in Jo's direction.

She smiled up at him. "So you remember me huh?"

"You arrogant little mundane." Another vampire rasped.

"She's right." Simon said. "You remember Jo?" Simon gave a sudden terrible smile and he pointed to Ellen. "Well like daughter like mother and there are dozens more like them." He waved his cell in the air. "And they are all just a phone call away. So you'd be surprised. I figured you of all people would have stopped under estimating human beings."

"And you should stop underestimating your own kind." The vampire with blue hair shouted back. "We outnumber and outrank you."

"Enough." Jocelyn said. "This is not the time petty theatrics. We have important information. Valentine has gone rogue and attacked Idris. Once he has dealt with those he has seen fit to dispose of he will go after Downworld next." She gestured to their little group, tapping Simon's shoulder. "We propose a truce and call our forces together to kill Valentine and then perhaps we can finally bury the hatchet as it were."

"Ridiculous." Raphael spat. "As if we would trust the word of a nephilim. You take our dignity, force us to go with your ways or suffer. For hundreds of years we were never treated as equals. You never keep your word and never will. You never help us with our problems, why should we help you with yours?"

"Because this is everyone's problem, Valentine is-"

"Mad yes, but one shadowhunter. Surely you should clean us your own messes."

"Look, we can work together, it's possible!" Simon shouted.

"Why should we listen to the Uncle Tom?!" Another vampire shouted.

Murmurs of assent rippled through the crowd, the agitation making them rowdier and Simon finally shouted over them.

"But it's the end of the world, can't you make an exception?"

"That may be true, but we have withstood many disasters, this is but another one." Raphael continued. "I see no reason to be concerned. Now if you are finished with your mewling, leave. The Children of the Night will take no part in this."

Jocelyn snorted. "Typical. You have no concern for others."

"Your arrogance is also typical." Raphael hissed, suddenly furious. "I am protecting my own and my own only! You are lucky am I sparing your lives and letting you leave. However, come back again and you won't be so lucky."

"Fuck it, let's go." Jo snapped. "These assholes don't want help fine."

"This isn't even your fight, mundane!"

"Yes it is." Jocelyn replied. "It's all our fight."

She said no more and strode back the way she came. She didn't look back as Simon did and he marveled at the fearlessness she displayed. The four of them came back out the way they came, the smells of rot attacking them. Simon pushed back his disappointment. Ellen put a hand on his shoulder.

"You tried."

"But-"

"They outnumbered us, so we couldn't force them even if we wanted to. Besides would you have wanted to?" Ellen asked.

"No, not really."

They walked back to the car, Simon lagging as he looked overhead at the stars, glad to be out of that melancholy building.

"If that's how vampires are supposed to be like, then I don't want to be one."

"It's ultimately up to you, but personally you seem to be a very honorable one, Simon."

He jumped. "Guess I said that out loud huh?"

Jocelyn shrugged. "My ears are quite good is all."

"Huh."

As they climbed inside the car and began to move, Simon didn't look to the sky, but rather to the road that the tires ate up, lit up by the streetlights and Simon felt an odd sense of the possibilities that were beginning to unfurl like stretches of lanes that seemed to magically appear in the head lights. Simon wondered what it was.

TBC….