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.

12. Can't find my way home

Disclaimer: Don't own em, I'll put them back on the shelf in a bit.

Warnings: Violence, character death, mild racism, and language.

AN: Little more plot while Simon has some adventures…

Word Count: 14, 630

Enjoy!

SPNTMI

Chapter 12: Can't find my way home

The sunlight filtered down onto his skin, dappling over smooth limbs that would never wither or weaken. He marveled at the way the light played over his body as though it could mark the hours by the turning of the sun, the fire of it making no blemish. Simon looked up at the foliage of the tress, enjoying the light hitting the leaves, which were just starting to yellow. The sun held the sorrow at bay. It was his only distraction from a Clary-less world. Even then, that was something he only half-believed.

He cradled his cell phone with a free hand, its weight oddly out of place in the light of all that happened. He debated about calling Jo, who must be halfway to her destination, and Clary's mother along with her. Simon sighed and when he saw that no called him, he slipped the phone back in his pocket. Jo hadn't called yet

'…Maybe no news was good news…has to be.' Simon shook himself. 'Besides, you stayed behind because you knew it was gonna hit the fan and you need to do your part to clean up the mess.'

Simon sighed before hauling himself. Still at a loss, he fingered the loops of his jeans and he strode through the park, intent on getting to the subway.

SPNTMI

The smell of the underground covered him, comforting as a security blanket. Despite the way the crowds now pressed and passed by, hurrying this way and that to their destinations.

'And I used to be one of them.' He thought a pang.

Before, he'd never notice someone like himself as he was now. He would have stopped at one of the stands, bought a pastry or beef jerky and a soda. If he was with Clary, they'd have their backpacks, and Clary would have her sketchpad in her arms with a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes would be waiting on another world, about to be put to paper.

Simon stood on the platform, waiting as languidly as the rest. A girl with half a dozen piercings and blue hair fiddled with a phone, her bright yellow raincoat splattered with grime. An older man in a three piece suit and a be-spelled leer with a burgeoning beer gut strained against his polished belt buckle and sweat gleamed on his forehead. In the pervy business man, Simon recognized something in himself. It was in this man's sweat, in the eyelids fluttering with pent up desire. He fidgeted like prey, wetting his lips over and over as he stared at the blue haired girl. Simon could smell the blood of both of them, overpowering the aftershave of the man and the musty unwashed smell of the girl. Simon swallowed heavily, trying to push down the lust with disgust.

His cell phone rang with an abrasive jangle and he jumped, now aware that his hands were shaking as he lifted up his phone. The blue glow from the phone lit up his face; his fangs pressed into his lower lip, and Simon shuddered all through himself, willing his fangs to go back into himself. He nearly fell over as they snapped back up. He phone was still ringing and when he looked at the call screen, name bold against the bright screen. He winced.

'Rebecca.'

Simon stuffed the phone back into his pocket as the train pulled in, the sharp wind tousling his hair as the car pulled in with a screech. As the doors opened with a whoosh, pulling the scent of the humans away before intensifying with the press of the crowd, and Simon hurried inside. He tried to get away from the smell, but this is New York City, there would be no escape smell or otherwise. He chose a seat in the back, away from the groups and sat down. He didn't stare at the other passengers. He didn't need to. They were all going somewhere, when he was younger, he used to look at the other passengers and make up stories about what their lives were like and where they were going. It had been a fun way to pass the time, but not anymore. It was no longer fun to watch the direction of others when he himself wouldn't change.

"No…"

Simon looked up in time to see two men in crisp business suits staring at him. The flat, colorless eyes were identical to one another. They held no emotion in them. Simon frowned. He could detect nothing. No scent, just a particular wave of…something. Like a heat wave, an aura-less shimmer, clinging sweat-like despite their hard bodies and gaunt faces. There was nothing in their eyes as they stared back at him, fixing him in place, and transfixing him with their emotionless faces.

They went through a tunnel, the inside of the car going completely dark. Simon flinched. The expected and brief deprivation of his senses made him freeze up as his instincts demanded. It stilled him until he remembered.

'Wait you're a vampire…remember you can see in the dark.'

Simon blinked, the two men-creatures hadn't moved and yet it felt as if they did. Their feet gliding over the dirty floor as if they wouldn't need to walk; it was hard to notice, it seemed too effortless. So unobtrusive, as if they didn't exist, weren't human. This made them even more eerie, their bland eyes shining in the darkness. Suddenly they were advancing and it didn't matter if there was a crowd or it was just the three of them, the world had shrunk into this one tunnel.

Simon stumbled back, baring his teeth. The light reappeared, and he blinked at the change, but the two men flinched violently at the sterile florescent lighting. They made no moves to shield themselves, but it made their faces carved and wasted. They stared back; the blankness had a slight hunger to it. Move with the creatures, Simon eyed the doors; the platform was in sight and the doors barely had time to open before he bolted through them. He scraped at them, the doors nearly trapping him. Simon thrashed himself free and tripping over the platform as he collided into the crowds of midday travelers, and he weaved around them. Simon took the stairs up to the traffic and light.

SPNTMI

The Institute stood still proud and alone in the deserted street. The wards that he helped the Harvelle's put up were still there, slightly faded, but still visible to his eyes. Simon sighed, the heaviness of the wind going through him and made him think of the past. How long would it last? The future would become the present and fade into the past, to be remembered with a full or weary heart. Simon shook his head; he didn't want to say a goodbye that hadn't happened yet. How long before time took this place, let vines overcome it and become forgotten by all except him?

"An interesting place to find a vampire."

Simon jumped, whirling around at the unfamiliar voice, his fangs bared. A woman stared back at him. She had thick silver-blonde hair that was spilling out of its bun. Green eyes of glittering intelligence, holding age easier than being held in the palms of one's hand as if was tangible, and lips that sheathed a weapon. Her smile revealing them as she opened her mouth: Vampire.

"Hello Simon."

"Who are you?"

Her red dress made a subtle sound as she moved forward. A slight rasp that made him shiver with a heat that filled his groin. He swallowed rapidly, throat aching; looking at her was like looking at hunger itself. Like a sharp, edgy burning, he felt the hunger as oppressive as a crushed body. She walked up to him, sensuous as a river, her legs moved like the current meeting its intended destination. For some reason the way she moved was more desirable than her legs themselves, of even the firmly shaped and high mounted breasts. A slim hand moved deliberately, the movement painfully clear, pores visible in his new vision. She was like him and that fact suddenly overwhelmed him.

"Who are you?" He repeated.

She smiled. "A vampire who mourns shadowhunters and their demise. One who still clings to mortal life and can walk into the sun. Truly amazing I say."

Simon stepped back as if slapped. "H-how did-"

"Come with me and you'll know."

He chuckled weakly. "Mom always told me never to go with strangers."

"Especially ones that are vampires, yes?"

"Exactly. She's got a pretty strict policy."

"I'm sure there's something we can arrange. Unless of course, you want to be tethered to your mother until she dies?"

Simon snarled, a vicious noise that was pulled out of him and made his stomach ache.

"Enough. Either tell me what you want or leave."

She held up her hands with a faint expression of mockery. "If you insist. My name is Camille and I have a proposition for you."

"Ok, let's hear it."

"Even with the shadowhunters gone, it's still not safe to speak so publicly. I know of a more intimate place."

Simon frowned. "Fine. Sure."

Camille crooked a finger and gestured for him to come closer. Simon felt hypnotized by that finger. He clicked his fangs, the two points sliding back up with a satisfying sensation.

"This way."

She led Simon back half a block to a stretch limo, sleek and predatory in the loud night. Despite his nervousness, he sled into the leather interior after watching Camille slide in first, bent low enough for Simon to remember how his heart would have pounded. He didn't enter as gracefully as she did, but the door was swung shut by himself, so he trapped himself with her. Simon sat back on the plush seat as Camille reclined into the leather and looked back at him. Her silvery mane swished around her shoulders and Simon resisted the urge to touch a few strands of it. He had no idea what to say. Sitting so close to her that left his body puzzled, sitting next to someone so powerful wasn't helping very much.

He could see the lights of the richer district, past the galleries, swanky bars, and restaurants. The streets were clogged with the midnight crowds as the limo slowed down to a winding street and turned a bend to a quiet looking bistro down the corner. A sign at the front, placed in one of the expensive windows promised that the outdoor garden was closed for renovation, but that the terence was open all season.

Camille straightened up, almost too perfectly coordinated as she moved in unison with her driver, who opened her door for her. Pulling herself out, Simon caught a quick flash of her thighs as the material of her dress rode up her legs. Simon shifted in her seat, fingering the door handle, but before he could do anything, it was opened for him. He clambered out of his seat and the driver arched his eyebrow at the hasty exit, but Simon ignored this as he went over to Camille. He watched as she opened the entrance and swept her arm in an 'after you' gesture. Simon acquiesced and went in.

As soon as he stepped in, he saw that it was empty. At this hour there should have been a healthy night crowd. The interior had an intimate atmosphere despite both its spaciousness and emptiness. A bar stood on the left-hand side, farther away from the windows, but a soft glow of circular lamps beneath the counter illuminated the glass bottled of liquor on the shelves. However, there was no bartender to mix drinks or listen to the people that would have perched on wood lacquered stools. To the right, circular tables were assorted with tall, highbacked chairs. Each one was made with a dark wood, possibly mahogany or cherry, glossy in its cleanliness. Some overlooked the windows, to see the street outside and other tables arraigned to rest next to the walls. Pictures of scenic beauty rested above them. Mountains in the east, dense forests and plains filled with flowers. They were arraigned so that they could be seen in each section and wouldn't clutter the walls. The cozy cream coated walls beckoned him further inside.

In the middle of the entryway a sign read 'please wait to be seated' as Simon was lead past it as Camille strode along the walking space to the set of heavy stairs. They led up to more tables. Even though he hadn't crossed the stairs yet he could see them, as the railing that overlooked the ground floor was spacious and ornately carved into geometric shapes. Simon was reminded of an action movie he had seen, one where two Chinese women ended up fighting over a sword…? He slowed, looking up at the ceiling to see an expansive and glittering chandelier, its crystal droplets strung out like spiderwebs that created dangling chains, connecting them to mini lantern-like chandeliers. Those tier lamps seemed more for aesthetics than light, but the amber glow was still there. Simon kept staring as he walked up the stairs.

The uncarpeted wood creaked with dignity as they climbed up it. Simon watched Camille's hand as it glided up the banister, slim uncalloused hands, and sharp unpainted nails. Her fingers brushing against the dark wood; their paleness so otherworldly it was monstrous. He shuddered at the sight of those hands, at the way they connected to those graceful wrists, so small it was terrifying. She could break someone in half with them.

For a second, Simon could picture someone else living underneath her skin, gliding like a serpent and thick in body. Meatily thumping against her organs and sucking down blood. A large thing, stuffed inside, dark and greedy. The image laid over her like a photo-shop of a second skin, a ghost and it stayed over her as she turned to him. Green eyes bored into him. Now they looked faintly plastic to him. He had a wild thought of a skeleton with marbles stuck in the eye sockets. He could see her as dead. Yet what was keeping her animated-alive and moving had a malice of its own, moving her body for her, maybe her brain-maybe something else but-Simon clutched the banister hard, his own hand white, stark against the wood, splintering it beneath him as he realized that if this held true for her, it also did for him.

"You coming?"

Her mouth moved and Simon nearly gagged as the illusion spread over her face, turning her lips into a sneer as the words moved out of synch with her mouth. Simon, who was already standing a step behind her, enough to smell her pumping blood beneath her French perfume and nodded hazily, and as if a light had swung around the illusion, whatever it was that had gripped him left. Gone as if it never were. He blinked as the colors came back to themselves and the lights returned to their amber softness. Camille smiled and resumed walking up the stairs, the swinging of her hips making Simon feel a distinctive brand of discomfort.

Upstairs was the same style as it was below; the only difference was wide paneled French windows. Large gauzy drapes pulled back to reveal a view of the terence and the door to its entryway was at the far end of the left-hand side of the room, which seemed to be somewhat rectangular in shape. A bit to the front and to the right, by the terence doors that Camille led him to. She walked right to the table that was placed below a picture of a landscape, a field of bright red poppies. As she began to take a seat beneath said picture, two figures emerged seemingly out of nowhere but Simon remembered the aimless gliding walk of the two strangers he saw on the subway.

He pointed a finger at them. "Hey! You guys are-they-" He looked over at Camille, who remained seated. Simon deflated. "You know them don't you?"

"Yes. Please have a seat."

"What are they?"

"Sit down, please. I'll explain everything to you."

Simon couldn't say what it was that made him obey but he took the seat opposite her and nodded at her look of gratitude.

"Thank you. I have gone to great lengths to speak to you."

"Is that why we're the only ones here?"

She smiled. "Yes exactly." She gave a little motion with her hands and the two men creatures began to move with the quiet efficiency of a butler and one brought around a silver tea tray and set it out on the table. Camille waited until they had finished putting the spread together before she grabbed a cloth napkin and set it out on her lap.

"So…um, what are they?"

Camille smiled in thanks to the two. "My Walker and my Archer. They have been with me for many years. If you must know, they are my subjugates. A mortal that has been given vampire blood because of their loyalty."

"Oh."

Camille began to serve herself. "Now help yourself." She gestured to the tray.

Simon swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable but he didn't want to look at Walker or Archer either. He had the feeling that he should put what he had to say delicately as he watched her sip her tea.

"But…uh, we-aren't…uh vampires…we can't drink…tea?"

Camille broke off mid-sip. "Mmm." She waved her hand airily. "Yes we can. With practice, you can ingest anything you like with minimal discomfort. Where are my manners? It was impractical of me to expect you to know that." She set down her teacup with a sigh. "Oh Simon. There's so much for you to learn."

"…And you'd like to teach me?" Simon asked. "No offense, but you seem like you've got better things to do…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

She smiled. "Is that so?" At Simon's nod, she continued. "Not entirely. I have heard talk, namely that you…are peculiar to say the least and that you refuse the society that Raphael extended to you-"

"Wait what? That's what he said? No. Basically, he told me I couldn't. He didn't want me to join. He pretty much told me, 'screw you and stay out of my way'. Wait." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "How do you know about that and what is it that you want?"

Camille appeared unfazed. "My, you're blunt. No, I like that quality about you. Now then, I propose a partnership. Ah-" She held up her hand and Simon fell silent. "Please listen to what I have to say before you come to a decision. Now Raphael Santiago is no friend of mine I can assure you. Although at one time he called himself one. When I was the leader of the clan. Yes, not so long ago, I was the leader of them in Manhattan, quite peacefully until I discovered that Raphael had broken the law, murdering and feeding on humans. When I confronted him, he replied that he would tell the others that I was the one who had broken the law-which would have brought doom on all of the clan. He stated he would keep this to himself if only I left and never came back. However, I have returned to rectify that injustice with your help."

"My help?" Simon frowned. "What would you need it for?"

"You're the Daylighter, the one who had been friends with the shadowhunters…and what's more, you've stood up to Raphael before."

"How is it that you know these things, I haven't said anything."

"Talk spreads fast in downworld. There are quite a few vampires who know of you and your connections, well before…"

"Before what? I'm sorry, before what?"

"You haven't heard? No I suppose you haven't." She continued. "The home country of the shadowhunters has been destroyed by Valentine."

'So Ellen and Jo's theory was right…' Instead, He asked. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I've had it confirmed by a friend."

"Who?"

"An old friend, Magnus Bane. Him and a young shadowhunter were there when it happened."

Simon smiled. "Magnus Bane? I know him! The shadowhunter, who was it? Did they have red hair?" He leaned forward. "What can you tell me about all that?"

"All that? Not too much I'm afraid. Magnus told me of how the glass towers that kept the demons out had been broken. Valentine created his own barrier, trapping everyone inside and laying siege to it. They said the battle was great and fierce before Valentine destroyed the country." She took a sip of tea before continuing. "As for the shadowhunter, no he did not have red hair, but black hair. Black hair and blue eyes, very lovely boy."

"Lovely boy…not Alec Lightwood?"

"…As a matter of fact, yes I believe that was his name."

"Alec is alive…maybe the others-"

"Told me that there was nothing left. To their knowledge, they are the only survivors, lucky enough to have escaped themselves." Camille frowned, but she looked sympathetic when she said, "But enough of that. I have come to reclaim my home and you are in need of one. On that basis alone should we endeavor together, yes? I can promise you a good home, a good life. Warm company and you needn't hunger for anything."

Simon swallowed heavily. "…And you want me because I'm a Daylighter….right?"

Camille gave him a wan smile. "Very astute and partly true. You have more power than you know."

She leaned forward, lips quivering girlishly, but her eyes dominated the rest of her face. Simon was at once flattered and suspicious of her unexpected bout of doe-eyed helplessness. Women never looked at him in that way, like he was the detective in the noir film being begged for help by the soon to be revealed femme fatale.

'Course that means she'll try to kill me.'

Camille carried on, eyes serious and wet. "It is courage. That is your strength. I heard that you stepped up to Raphael before, to rally a clan that was not your own in order to save them when you had no hope of defeating Valentine. Something that I will forever be grateful for and in your debt."

Simon was unsure of what made him speak next. "I had help with that. Wouldn't have gotten far without them." Wary of speech, he stopped.

"Yes I heard. A novel idea I assure you. However, together, you and I can achieve much more. Once my clan sees us together, they will welcome us with open arms. Seeing as we vampires are civilized; no one does not have to be killed in order to become the leader of a clan."

"Alright then…so aside from all that…Look, I'm not trying to be, whatever, but why should I do this?"

"Because you want a home where you can be yourself without fear. There is so much for you to learn Simon. Things you will never be able to have done by continuing to be a shadowhunter's pet."

Her voice was soft, but Simon bristled at the tone. "So, Magnus…where is he?"

If Camille was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead she seemed to realize that Simon would not let go of the topic until he was satisfied.

"Out of the country. Any more than that I can't tell you. I don't want to compromise their safety."

"Ok then." Simon took a breath. "So…can I think about this?"

Camille brightened. "Of course. It is a big decision. You will have a week and Archer or Walker will collect you for your answer." She held up a hand. "Don't worry, whatever your answer, we shall be on good terms. Just think how much good we can do together."

Simon nodded. "As I said, I'll think about it."

"As they say, that is certainly something to hope for."

"Ok then."

Simon stood up and Camille prepared herself another cup of tea. The distinct sensation of a finished conversation hung in the air, lonely and loud. Simon, unsure of how to leave; Camille seemed the type to stand on ceremony, so he made a stiff little bow in her direction and left.

SPNTMI

Simon didn't wander as usual; instead he had one last resort to use. He went to where Luke's pack lived. The police station was deserted, the floor dustier than usual. From the few visits he made to their home, Luke kept it relevantly clean. Now however, trash fluttered around his ankles like inquisitive puppies. Sleeping bags rolled up and packed away on shelves dominated any real space. A refrigerator hummed in the background, it drowned out the noise of dying insects and the only light available streamed through dusty windowpanes. A couple of shoe prints raced on the ground. At least a size ten or so. Simon followed them, but they faded after a few strides.

"They haven't been here in a while. We've already tried to contact them, but no luck."

Simon jumped, whirling to face the voice, and his fangs descended with an audible click.

"Whoa." The stranger put his hands up in the universal sign of peace. "Easy there. Didn't mean to startle you man, sorry."

"Who are you?"

The stranger dropped his hands and extended one out in quick fluidity. He took Simon's hand in a firm grip and gave a couple of rigorous shakes. His smile had an easy brightness to it, hazel eyes wide. A jolt came to Simon from the other man's fingertips, as if a joy buzzer was in the center of his palm. Simon shivered and tilted his head.

"Hang on, this is gonna sound weird, but are you…?"

"A werewolf? Yeah. You catch on quick. Anyway, I'm Kyle Jordan."

"Simon Lewis." He cleared his throat. "So are you from Luke's pack?"

"Nope. I'm from the private organization Praetor Lupus-"

Simon froze, the calm he had begun to feel thinning out. His expression must have changed because Kyle put his hands back up.

"Never heard of you." Simon snapped. "So whatever you're selling-"

"Just hear me out-"

"Give me one, no five reasons to."

Kyle sighed. "Well for one, I'm assigned to you."

"Assigned?"

"Yeah." He tugged at a chain around his neck, revealing a medallion. Simon could see the Latin inscription emblazoned on the edge. "We find newly turned downworlders like yourself. Werewolves, vampires, even warlocks sometimes. Take em' in, teach em' the ropes and some of em' help to do the same. It's tough when you don't know your way downworld. We help with that. I was assigned to help you."

"Assigned?"

"I want to help you."

"The other reasons?"

"…You're a danger."

"Excuse me?"

Kyle continued without apology. "You are a danger without someone to guide you. To yourself and others. You are not affiliated with any clan, so you have no one to teach you or protect you from harm. Praetor Lupus can do that. I'm not saying it won't be hard, but-"

"Wow, two offers in one day? I'm a popular guy."

Kyle's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Wait what? Who?"

Simon folded his arms. "Now why should I tell you anything? Especially since we're all alone here. So if you're gonna sweet talk me, we're gonna do it in public."

"Fair enough. Where do you have in mind?"

SPNTMI

"Well, I gotta say, I'm surprised this was what you had in mind."

Freaky Pete's Hunter's Moon was jammed packed, all the barstools creaking with the weight of patrons, and Freaky Pete sliding drink after drink down the counter. Full tables ladled with greasy food and pitchers of drinks. Staff bustled in with spare chairs that they lofted high above their heads. They weaved around the standing patrons who milled around or swayed to the band that played on a tiny stage.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

A waitress came up to their table to take their orders. She gave Kyle a syrupy smile that showed perfect white teeth. When she turned to Simon, she did a double take, eyes widening. She wrinkled her nose when Simon just ordered a ginger ale. She gave one final smile to Kyle before she left to place their order. Simon turned to stare at Kyle, who sipped his glass of water with a buzz of energy. He waited for Simon to speak.

"Alright first things first: who are the Praetor Lupus and why haven't I heard of you?"

Kyle straightened up and set his water glass down. He suddenly gave off the air of business; his focus was surprising to Simon, who blinked at the 360 change in attitude. Simon edged closer to hear Kyle better.

"Like I said, we're a private organization that helps new downworlders get adjusted to being…well downworlders. We usually see vampires and werewolves, and even some warlocks. Not everyone is lucky enough to find a clan or a pack to help them. That's where we come in. Because a newly turned vamp or were without any guidance is a dangerous person, and that usually means having to get…put down."

"What, by shadowhunters?"

Kyle paused, eyes widened and he spoke slowly, as if weighing his words carefully. "You know, there were quite a bit people who didn't believe in shadowhunters. Like they were fairy tales told to naughty downworlders who wanted to break the law. Course, some people say the same thing about us. Yes, we do that, if we've been assigned to the downworlder. Although to be honest, it's usually a pissing contest between us and a clan or a pack. Usually if someone goes rogue, it's usually them that has the right to deal with one of their own. Or unless, a shadowhunter were to step in, then every right goes to them. Or it would have if the rumors are true…are they?"

Simon, who had fallen into a calm of listening, now blinked as if splashed with cold water. For some reason, he felt the need to look around to make sure no one was over hearing. The bustling bar's noise competed for attention. The band was preparing for another song, checking their amps and retuning their guitars. Their lead singer, a man with unruly blonde hair was drinking from a water bottle. At another part of the bar, a group of werewolves were standing clustered around a dark haired woman. For some reason, she seemed familiar. Maybe it was the way she stood…Simon wanted to continued observing just to see what it was that made her seem that way, but then he remembered that Kyle had asked him a question and he reluctantly turned his eyes back to the young werewolf.

"I've heard from multiple sources that…yes. Yes, it's true. I haven't been able to find…anyone to tell me otherwise. They-they're gone."

As soon as he said it, his chest went heaved a gusty breath, like his gut clenched at the truth of the words, as if they were waiting for it. He swallowed hard, throat aching. Kyle watched him, eyes soft and he appeared to be debating with himself. His hand extended out ward, hovering in the air before he drew it back around his drink. He took a long pull. Their waitress came back and Simon swiftly turned back to see the same dark haired woman. She had her back pressed against the wooden pillar, her chin tilting upwards to catch the amber light. It made her eyes shimmer wetly. They were a gray flecked with green. They seemed to shift in the light, harder to catch then her glossy black hair. Her neck looked vulnerable in the light, pulse flexing beneath her skin. He licked his lips; the sudden full body shudder was surprisingly feverish. She was glaring at the huddle of werewolves that came closer. Kyle cleared his throat again and Simon tore his eyes back to him.

"So…what now?" He asked.

Simon shrugged. "The only thing I know is it's gonna be chaos."

"Tell me about it. We're scrambling to-"

A raucous chorus of shouts went up. They looked up in time to see a waitress drop a tray of orders, glasses crashing to the ground, and burgers trampled on underfoot. As she bent down to clean up the mess, a heavily muscled were slapped her ass. She stood up with a screech, eyes flashing wide and gold as she bared her teeth. The werewolf held up his hands and as she bent down again, he made a grand show of not touching her until she had everything cleaned up. When he grabbed at her again, she snarled, wriggling against him. She grabbed a glass of water from a patron's table and poured it on the werewolf's head. He swore in surprise and she elbowed her way out of his grip. Laughter rang out behind her. Simon rolled his eyes and turned back to Kyle.

"You were saying?"

Kyle looked as though he was carefully choosing his words. "That it'll be as you say. I mean, the Praetor is going to do its best to help out, but honestly-" He looked over his shoulder before continuing. "-there are too many downworlders and not enough Praetor to help. Much as I hate to say it, but…"

"But…?" Simon nodded. "Yeah. I just…" He narrowed his eyes. "Why did you ask me that? How am I supposed to know the answer to that any more than you do?"

Kyle inclined his head. "It's on your file. You knew shadowhunters, Luke Garroway, and…Maia Roberts."

As soon as he said her name he winced, but Kyle's expression was more terrible. His face looked revenged, aged, and agonized. Like was staring down the bottom of the barrel and it wasn't enough. The emotion inside his eyes turned them bright, too vivid to be faked or forgotten.

"You knew her."

"I uh…we used to…before-but yeah. Yes."

"…O-oh oh. Oh my-oh G-g, holy-" He choked.

He couldn't even say His name for Maia, not even to say how sorry he was. Couldn't pray for her. His throat convulsed, unable to handle the searing pain that speaking the Lord's name brought. His shoulders shook. He bowed his head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kyle shake; the other boy didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Simon's spit lodged in his throat, still gooey from the Lord's name. His lips were quivering; he spied Kyle out of the corner of his eye. It was like staring through his reflection. Eyes brighter than him, shouting at him as though they were several feet apart. He didn't need such a gaze being so loud when he was sitting right there.

Now he was hyper aware. The way the waitress's heals clicked as she brought out trays of beer and burgers that still sizzled and popped. The sheen of sweat on her bare legs, the way it made her veins stand out as she hurried this way and that. Heavy creaks of barstools that struggled to hold the weight of the patrons atop them. Chairs scraping against the hardwood floor. People leaned back and forth on their chairs. Sharp laughter overlapping with the raucous conversation. Wolf whistles at the waitresses and a few of the women who drunkenly danced, arms stretching to the wooden beams. Beer splashed onto the ground and the cheap amber lights made it gleam a sickly gold. Freaky Pete directing his harried waitress with practiced aim, a faint scowl on his face. Simon turned back to himself, seeing himself and Kyle with a bird's eye view. Two grim, shaking boys, unable to move or speak. He could see them against the back drop of the bustling bar as the band's lead singer crooned a rendition of Ozzy Osborn's 'Road to Nowhere.'

"Enough."

Simon spun around; at first he thought it was himself who said those words, but as he turned his head as if a huge hand had turned his head for him. It was the woman from before. She was still there as three large men surrounded her. She opened her mouth again and Simon wondered where she was from. When she started speaking, he knew she wasn't a New Yorker. Not just because of an accent, but the tone. No real impatience or whip sharp pitch. No, her voice was soft and slow. He leaned forward to catch what she was saying. It was concise, strained. Simon paused, looking her over. She was standing stiff-legged, feet apart, and lips pulled thin. Three men circled closer. Simon felt Kyle tense beside him.

"…She isn't one of us."

Simon blinked back to Kyle. The other boy was frowning, head tilted. Simon was reminded of a puppy. When Kyle noticed Simon watching him, he put his hands up.

"I just meant she's not a werewolf."

"So?"

"…She isn't human either."

Simon swiveled back to her again. Now her back was digging into the wood. Her pinched face sent something inside him reeling. He strode to her. Put himself in front of her path. Her little intake of breath made him shiver. He kept his eyes on the three burly weres' in front of him. Simon spread his hands out, palms outward; tried to smile. The part of him that hadn't taken a backseat sniggered at the sudden machismo.

"I think that's enough don't you?"

The largest man, who was in the center of the trio, stepped forward. Broad shouldered, with heavily inked arms. He had the look of a body builder gone to seed. There were scars on his face, poorly hidden by his patchy beard. A stained white bandanna wrapped around his head. His work boots thudded against the dirty floor. Simon flinched. The bearded man turned to his two friends-identical twins-and laughed. When the man's head was still at an angle, Simon threw back his fist and punched the man on the ear. The man staggered back, arms splayed wide as he gave a surprised roar. He stumbled back into a chair. His friends scrambled to steady him. Simon bounced back, cradling his hand and flexing his fingers. He let out a shaky breath. Simon hopped up and down, flinging his hands. The bearded man swung back, fists up and a snarl on his face. His eyes had shifted to a golden hue. Simon swallowed heavily as his new teeth descended. He pressed his lips tightly over them. His jaw ached. The three men advanced on him and a curious buzzing over his skin. It felt nice. He could think without getting anxious. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kyle grab the woman and tug her to the exit. The bearded man's hands were uncurled, claws extended. They were unusually jagged. A grey-ish color. Simon wrinkled his nose as they got closer. He noticed the twins were matching clothes, right down to the steel toed boots. He really wanted to mouth off, but the bearded man growled out,

"Ready to get fucked, fanger?"

Simon choked out a laugh. "You're really not my type."

The trio lunged in unison. Simon kept back just as a loud cocking noise echoed through the bar. They froze, under the spell of a fully loaded semi-automatic shotgun aimed and readied in their direction. Freaky Pete held the weapon with steady hands. He licked his lips as the as the three stepped away from Simon. The bearded man was slower to move than his companions, who slunk away.

"You best be leavin'" Freaky Pete said.

The bearded man grimaced, but said nothing.

"You too Simon."

Simon nodded. He didn't bother to wait. Freaky Pete kept the barrel trained on the trio as he sprinted out the door. When Simon hit the night air, he saw Kyle and the woman waiting for him. They stopped their conversation to stare. He cleared his throat.

"Uh…sorry."

Kyle shrugged. "It's cool, man. Uh, this is-"

The woman stepped forward with an outstretched hand. "Lenore."

They shook. She had a firm grip and in that moment, recognition. A weird deja-vu because of her scent-familiar. Not quite a sister, but a cousin. Lenore's eyes widened.

"Are you…?"

"A vampire? Yes."

Lenore laughed. "Sorry. I don't know why I asked, I just…"

"Yeah, I know right."

Kyle kept glancing between the two and it took Simon a moment to realize that he was still shaking hands with Lenore. With a laugh they pulled their hands apart. Simon wiped his hands on his jeans, laugh petering out to small chuckles as Lenore did the same. Simon coughed.

"So…um, you're new here?"

Lenore nodded. "That obvious?"

"Just a bit. So where are you from?"

"Montana."

Simon whistled. "You came a long way just to get harassed." He winced. "That was a werewolf bar."

"A werewolf bar? That's something I've never heard of before." Lenore nodded in a slow rhythm. "Yeah. Not entirely sure why I came here."

"Then why did you come here?"

"Heard it was better out here." She shrugged. "Guess I was wrong."

Simon frowned. "No offense, but what made you think that?"

"It was different-I heard from an old nest-mate. How it could be safer here."

Kyle clicked his teeth. "You have lousy timing. Everything is starting to go to shit."

"He's right. There really isn't any safe place to be right now."

Lenore looked down. She bit her lip and clenched her fists when she turned her face back up to Simon. There was a grim blaze of an expression there. A sudden chill when through him.

"Right. Well. I just wanted to thank you for…for what you did. You didn't have to and the last time a stranger helped me…well thanks."

She turned and made to walk away. Simon ground his teeth, chest swelling with something he couldn't identify. Lenore was carrying away the future on her hunched shoulders. He tried to keep breathing. He wanted to shout. Shout to the world-

"Wait."

Lenore stopped. Turned.

"I'm going to change things. Have a future-just. Come with me."

Simon held out his hand. Lenore stated back at him, big dark eyes wide in her head. It reminded him of something. He had no idea what she saw, but Lenore reached out and grabbed his hand.

SPNTMI

Camille stood before them, Archer and Walker flanking her. She took her time observing them. After smiling at Simon she regarded Kyle and Lenore with a slight tilt of the head. She frowned and Simon wasn't sure what was causing that expression to form. Lenore squirmed under the gaze but held her eyes up and Kyle struggled to do the same.

"It is always nice to greet you Simon, but I do not recognize these two; you must introduce me."

"Oh right. Well this is Lenore and Kyle. Lenore is new in town and she's looking for a place to stay. I thought she'd like to meet you. Kyle is with the Praetor Lupus and-"

"A werewolf. I'm sorry, but this is out of your jurisdiction and interfere is not welcome."

"They are my friends." Simon said.

Simon and Camille stared at each other. It only last a few minutes. Camille put her hand on Simon's shoulder and he squared them so as to keep her nails from digging in. She let go with a smile.

"Be that as it may, I cannot take him to where we are going. He will just have to wait until we have finished our business. I'm sure he understands."

Kyle gritted his teeth. "Yes I do. Simon, I'll be waiting right here."

Simon nodded. "Will do-and sorry."

Kyle shrugged. "It happens. Good luck."

"Thanks."

Camille extended her hands to Lenore and Simon. They pulled themselves to her. Simon spared Kyle a backward glance, but Lenore kept a trained and narrowed eye at Camille. She led them through narrow twisty streets that Simon vaguely recognized. At first he thought she was taking them to her limousine, but she continued to stride down roads that became progressively dirtier. Graffiti scrawled over the cracked walls and boarded up windows. Lenore's eyes darted this way and that, body swinging from side to side in a way that made Simon think of an agitated cat. It took him a moment to notice that she walked closer to him. He peered over the top of her head when he heard disjointed rap music from across the way.

It sounded like a witch's chant from this distance, low voice permeating inside their ears from wherever building it was coming from. A police siren wailed in the distance. The moon hung high in the sky and Simon could have sworn he heard a howl in the distance. A familiar boarded up building came into view, like a figure rolling in from the fog. It was in even more disrepair then before. The tarp had been replaced and this time was kept in place with slats of boards and chains. New scrawls of spray paint in angry slants covered cracks in the plaster. The Dumort rose up like an angry ghost. Simon sucked in a breath, said a non-existent prayer as Lenore grabbed his shoulder. Ahead of them, Camille clicked her tongue.

"The nerve of him…"

Lenore mouthed 'who?' at Simon, but Camille beat him to the punch. She regarded Simon and Lenore and smiled tightly with her teeth making indentations even when hidden behind her mouth. Simon kept his eyes fixed on the Dumort. Lenore let out a gusty sigh.

"Have no fear, I will let no harm come to either of you." Camille said.

Simon's throat made a clutched noise and gave no other response. Lenore kept glancing between Simon and Camille. The older woman gave a fuller smile, until it was just bared teeth.

"Come."

She gave an imperious finger twitch and she swayed her hips towards the urban sprawl. Lenore grabbed Simon's shoulder before he could follow.

"Is this a trap? What's happening?"

"She wants to confront Raphael, the vampire who took her place as leader. Now she wants it back."

"Should we do this?"

"…Better hurry up, or we'll be left behind."

SPNTMI

Camille strode into the front entrance, leaving Lenore and Simon hurrying in her wake. Vampires lounged on tattered couches and creaking stairs. Simon recognized some of them from the last time he had been inside of the Dumort. Some of them caught his eye and bared their fangs. Simon clenched his throat, eyes blinking as if sand had been poured into his eyelids. Teeth slick with his spit; he almost spat it out. He wanted his teeth to fall out and clatter to the ground. He puffed his cheeks out; the heaviness of his flesh making him shudder. Simon and Lenore pressed closer together.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lenore's lips were twitching. Teeth peeking out and flashing in the dim pockets of light, and her claws were extending and retracting in rapid fire succession. She was breathing through her nose. Simon had to look up-away from her. Camille had frozen in a calm stance, unlike the rest of the creatures, which had all stiffened like hunting dogs on point. They had all turned their heads upwards in unison, straining as Raphael Santiago strode down from the dilapidated balcony and leapt down to the floor. Only a puff of dust plumed up at his feet. It swirled up to his eyes as he smiled, slow and liquid. His eyes narrowed, black chips that glittered wetly without any light to give them a reflection. Raphael kept his hands still at his sides; the fingers slim and perfect columns of power.

Simon shivered and the motion caught Raphael's attention, his head swiveled and Simon was reminded of a raptor, with big eyes leveled in his direction. Simon couldn't discern the expression, but he took a step back and tried to keep Lenore behind him. Raphael's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. He ignored Lenore in favor of turning his attention to Camille. For a split second, his face morphed-like his flesh was mutable clay in some deranged animation-lips pulled back over a hole with picks. Eyes becoming impossibly wide and sinking farther into the skull all at once. Nose pressing back and up, like a pig's and lips wrinkling back and teeth crowding inside. A never ending black throat. Then it was gone. It smoothed over into a placid smile. Eyes crinkling up at the corners. He spread his arms wide.

"Camille. Always a pleasure."

"No." She said. "The pleasure is all mine."

"Then tell me, what is your pleasure?"

"To return home." Her eyes shone. "Our people can rejoice, for I have returned."

Raphael shifted, his heels digging into the carpet. He gave a deliberately slow blink of his eyes and he made a show of swiveling to face the rest of the clan. At their shifting glances to each other, he ignored but he nodded his head at the few leers in the crowd. Vampires murmured to each other, glancing back and forth between Camille and Raphael. Some of them leaned forward, peering through the darkness like eager cats. Others slunk back, teeth gleaming even in shadow. Dashes of color flashing through building.

Raphael exhaled through his nose so sharply it was a whistle. It lowered down until it turned into a laugh that ended with a click of his teeth. Camille wriggled her hips, shoulders shaking as she laughed. It ended abruptly. She straightened herself up.

"I have returned. I have come to lead our people once again."

"Have you now?"

"Yes. Yes I have. The life I have promised us has always been in my grasp. With me it can be realized once again."

"You speak of fairy tales."

"Not so." She said. "Shadowhunters-"

"It doesn't matter. You have led this clan to ruin and will do so again-"

"How? By my eyes you have taken our people out of a comfortable life and taken them to a place of destitution and fear. Told tales about me."

"Only the ones that are true."

"As well as keeping your own exploits from reaching ears. Never mind that now. The past is irrelevant to the future."

"A future that no doubt includes Simon Lewis." He scoffed.

"Yes. A vital part. He belongs here."

"No he doesn't. He has no desire to be one of us or be in our company. Even if he did, he has no place among us. He will bring ruin to us all, I know it."

Camille laughed. "What a foolish old man you've become in your old age. I remember a time when you were fearless."

"Yes. It was also a time when I was naïve to your tricks and talk."

"How cruel."

"Even now you talk. I suppose the sayings are true: you cannot teach an old dog new tricks."

"Yes, what a pair of old dogs we make. Come, let us see what we can trick up shall we?"

"Yes." He whipped his head to Simon. "You have no place here. You bringing her here proves that. You know not what you do."

Simon scoffed. "I think I've got the basics thanks."

Raphael sneered. "A boy playing at being a man."

"Yeah well, I know you aren't much better. You're actually stuck as a boy."

Raphael snarled. Camille licked her lips and then put her hands together in a placating gesture.

"You are my second. When I made you my second, it was with the trust that you would be by my side in council or in spirit. When we would meet face to face I chose you because you would not do this. By law, I am the rightful ruler of this nest."

"Unless you are deemed unfit, which I have done so. For your crimes-"

"That you committed!"

The rest of the nest kept turning their heads as if watching a particularly riveting tennis match. Their whispers became shouts and they swarmed the balcony and the edges of the strangers. Their teeth made a chittering sound as numerous jaws worked up in down in tandem. Their lips had a pinkish sheen to them. They leaned forward as Raphael's lips pulled back again.

"I will never acknowledge you!" Raphael spat on the floor at Camille's feet.

Camille didn't react beyond a slight twitch of muscle. She extended her hand, palms, up, and empty. His vision slowed and he caught the motion of her wrist as it glided forward. He still couldn't stop the motion as her fingers brushed Raphael's shoulder. Raphael moved with unprecedented speed. His hand shot out, grabbing Camille's wrist. He snapped it and she screamed. Raphael yanked her broken wrist, her arm sailing forward and in one smooth motion, flipped her over. Camille slammed onto her back with a hiss of pain. Raphael still held onto her wrist, bringing up his foot. His heel rushed to meet her neck and Simon's feet finally moved.

Simon slammed into Raphael. Breaking Raphael's grip on Camille, who quickly disentangled herself from the two men. She cradled her wrist. The surrounding vampires howled and bayed as Raphael and Simon thrashed on the ground. They sprang apart. Raphael snarled, a guttural well spring of aggression. His mouth open to reveal the long rows of teeth. Simon pulled back his lips to reveal his own gaping maw. Simon was aware that a part of himself was starting to fade into the background. The nervous buzz that had been building since the moment they came into the Dumort seemed to evaporate as a hyper-calm eased into him. This was inevitable-it was going to happen and he knew it since he came inside. Now that it was actually happening, he could focus. Raphael was starting to move, shoulders up in a smooth walk. Simon crouched down, hands outstretched and claws bared.

They circled each other. Simon could hear himself as if from far away. A raspy snarling that came from the pit of his stomach and rumbling up past his throat and spilling out of his mouth. It became progressively louder until his chest rattled as Raphael advanced. Simon's eyes widened as Raphael's face twisted. Raphael lunged and Simon darted to the side, tucking his body into a roll and sprawling at the feet of a group of vampires. He looked up to see their leering teeth and flashing eyes. They leaned forward and Simon bolted up, nearly careening into a lunging Raphael. He dodged, Raphael's claws glancing his cheek. A few stray hairs fluttering past his eyelashes.

Simon ducked low as Raphael curled his hands into fists and barreled at him. Raphael gave a couple swift uppercuts and Simon tumbled backwards, only able to bring his arms up to block an advancing blow. Simon's arms hummed with the impact, his own fists slamming into his forehead. Simon tripped over his own feet, hitting the carpet with a thud. Plumes of dust and mold rose around him. Raphael cut through the dust as he descended down onto Simon. He straddled Simon, knees pinning his hips in place. Raphael raised his fists up again. Simon wriggled his torso and bucked his hips, but he was locked into place. One fist crashed down and Simon jerked his head, missing him by inches, then the other fist and Simon moved again. Raphael flexed his shoulder in that same moment that Simon brought up his head and cracked it against Raphael's.

The older vampire stumbled back, blood streaming from his nose. Simon slithered out from under the other man and raced past him. A gap in the throng of monsters and Simon bolted through it. Their hands reached for him, fingers tearing at his clothes. The hands that caught hold of him tugged at him, trying to get him back to the center where Raphael had now stood. Simon could see other vampire walking toward him out of the corner of her eye. He gritted his teeth, hands straining to reach the door that lead to the servant's hallway.

His hands grasped the handle just as a burly blond vampire grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking so hard Simon's feet scraped at the ground. His other hand smacked into the door frame just as his leg swung up and hit the blond in the sternum. The holds on Simon loosened enough for his legs to crash into the door and slam it open. Simon swung into the servant's hallway and he pushed the door behind him. Slams from the other side reverberated through him.

Simon waited for a moment, looking down the sides and seeing the stairs that he and Jo once ran up being clear, he raced to them. This time he made it up them and down the corner by the time vampires opened the door to give chase. However, as he raced up the familiar entryway to the upper floors, he heard no one following him. He slowed down; the vampires on the balcony were moving. Carpet muffled his footsteps as he stepped through the doorway. Quick darting forms moved about ahead of him. Simon peered over the edge of the railing. He could see the balcony that Jo had been surrounded on and the first floor where he was moments before. He saw Raphael. The older vampire looked directly up at him. Simon pulled his head back just as group of vampires swarmed around him. He shouted as their arms tried to wrap around his. On the other side of the railway, he could see more vampires running to him.

Simon kept his fists up, feet weaving as vampires pressed at him from all sides. Snarls assaulted his ears. He dodged the group, hands uncurling and stretching outwards. He grabbed a wooden desk and hurled into the mob of vampires. It slammed into the three vampires that were closest to it. They didn't throw up their arms to protect themselves as the desk shattered on impact. Some hissed in surprise. Simon spotted a lamp to his left and without taking his eyes off his opponents, snatched it off the ground and brandished it like a sword. When one on the left came to close, Simon struck hard, the cord whipping the bridge of the man's nose. As Simon pulled back his hand, the other monsters rushed him. Simon froze.

"He is mine to kill!"

Raphael stood on the railing, braced on the wood, paint flaking off under his shoes. The rest of the nest backed off. They gave Simon ample room and the moment he had a clear shot, he threw the lamp at Raphael. Raphael batted it aside with a backhand. The lamp flew through the air and it shattered on an uncarpeted part of the floor, sending a small cluster of vampires to scatter. Raphael hopped down from his perch, but Simon was already moving backwards as the rest of the vampires gave him a wide berth. Simon noticed a grandfather clock down the hall and above it a piece of tarp was stretched taunt in a mid-sized rectangular shape.

'A skylight.'

Simon's eyes widened and he ran to the spot. His fingers struggled to get open the glass case that revealed the pendulum. Curses spat out of his mouth and he fumbled with it. He smashed the glass casing. Glass still clung to the frame but Simon took one big chunk and put it in his pocket. He grabbed the pendulum from inside the clock and jumped up. The pendulum caught the tarp's edges, jagged edges, ripping at the plastic. His fingers caught hold of the material and tugged down. He hung there for a moment, looking down to see Raphael hurrying to him. Simon grabbed another handful of tarp, its ripping loud in his ears. Once it came loose, Simon fell to the ground. A small patch of sunlight fell where the tarp had been. Raphael stopped short, squinting his eyes and he sneered.

"How can you expect to overcome me if you stand there all day? I don't believe your patience is a virtue."

"You don't say."

Simon put the pendulum in between his teeth and grabbed the grandfather clock with both hands. Raphael scoffed, but didn't move. Simon tugged the clock forward, grunting at the suddenness of its weight. It stood about half a foot taller than him and was probably about as heavy as him. His hands slid down to grip the middle and he lifted it up. His arms shook and he pushed it above his head until his arms fully extended. Simon stared upwards, the buttery yellow sunlight crisp against his eyes as if to paint a target. The taste of copper filled his mouth, teeth clenching hard around the metal in between them. Simon tossed the clock upwards. It went with enough speed to go through the skylight and land on the roof with a thud. Simon leapt up and grabbed edges of the window. His arms strained to hold him as he pulled himself out the window and onto the roof.

Simon turned to see the grandfather clock was miraculously still on the tiles of the roof. He scrambled to it, tiles burning where his hands touched them. Simon's shoulders sagged for a moment; the sun was pleasant on his back as he recalled the interior of the Dumort. Once he found what he was looking for he made a grab for the clock. A patch in the roof caught his attention. He spat the pendulum into his hands, its weight reassuring in the light of day. He brought it down on the boarded up patch. Splinters flew into his face, cutting his cheek. He slammed it down repeatedly until the wood gave way to form a small hole. Peering into it, the beams for the ceiling were warped in some places, and dark with age. The rafters connected together at the corners, almost appearing to be welded together, but when Simon squinted, he could see the cracks. He peered past that to see the chandeliers that still held their candles and even past those to see the first and second floors. Groups of vampires milled around in tight clusters.

Simon put the pendulum back in his mouth and gripped the clock. Simon pushed the clock and angled it down towards the hole. He shoved hard and the wood gave little resistance without the tiles to bolster it. The clock groaned in protest moments before it cracked the hole wider and then teetered for a moment. The wood snapped and the clock careened downwards. Simon watched as it fell into a wooden beam, which snapped on impact and caused the building to shudder. The clock slowed a bit as it crashed into the balcony, catching on the railing and pulling it down as it continued to fall. It scattered the vampires below it, but one was unfortunate enough to get smashed beneath it.

Simon could see the hand shaking in an attempt to get out from under the clock. Screams of pain and surprise spiraled up to his ears. The hole in the roof was at least three feet wide now and sunbeams hit the ground floor. Simon leapt down the hole and landed on a wooden beam. It shuddered from the inclusion of his weight. He peered in through the darkness. Vampires scrambled to move back from the large patch of sunlight; some of them smoked a bit at their edges. There was a spitting laugh somewhere in front of him. Up on the opposite end of rafters stood Raphael, and his hands shook. Simon grabbed the pendulum from out of his mouth and held it out in front of him.

Simon heard the wood creak as he shifted his weight and stood. Raphael shifted his stance wider and they moved in unison, racing to meet each other. The wood shrieked as the two raced over its surface. Simon leapt high just as Raphael was within arm's length. Simon brought the metal rod down just as Raphael ripped a chunk of a wooden beam and their weapons slammed into each other. The wood shattered in half and the rod flew up and clattered onto the balcony. The two sprang apart and Simon grabbed for a higher beam. It connected to a smaller piece that connected to the roof. He ripped it from its mooring, leapt from his perch to another one, throwing the large piece of wood before he landed on the other beam.

It delivered a glancing blow to Raphael's arms, causing lines of blood to appear. Raphael leapt to another wooden beam. Simon leapt back and ripped out another wooden beam. The structure groaned in response, but Raphael mirrored his action. He flung a rather jagged piece of a beam like a javelin. It screamed in air and drowned out Simon's shriek. He moved and it missed him by inches. Another shrieking came from overhead. Simon looked up in time to see a boudoir hurtling down. Simon ducked low as the dresser shatter into the warped beams overhead. A doorknob hit his shin. Wincing, he grabbed the doorknob before it fell to the ground. It was warm in his hand. He stuffed it in his pocket and took the wooden beam and broke it in half. His arms shuddered at the effort, but he used the two ends to swat away the remaining debris of dresser.

Simon kept his head ducked as he scanned the area. The windows had been re-taped and boarded up. He swept his gaze around to see the chandelier. It had seen better days. Cobwebs coated it and cracks crisscrossed where it was chained to the ceiling and its candles clung down to their stubs. Simon kept looking at the ceiling, finally landing on Raphael. He stood up, the last remains of the broken boudoir falling around him. Simon moved onto another beam that would lead him straight to Raphael. Running right to Raphael, he gave a whooping yell as he mimed a spear motion with the wood. Raphael tensed but Simon flung the beam directly above the elder vampire's head. The plaster above him shuddered and strands of sunlight peeked through. It gave his shoulders a soft glow and Raphael hissed. He swung out at Simon, but had to duck back into the shadows. Simon pivoted to avoid the lean muscles of Raphael's limbs, and put in a burst of speed. Keeping his eyes trained on the chandelier, he leapt high. Fingers catching on one of the low hoops of the chandelier, he gripped the metal tight as the cobwebs sunk down from the sweat of his hands.

It creaked in protest from Simon's unexpected weight, but it moved from the momentum. He thrashed and it sent a jitter up to the ceiling. His feet dangled, struggling to get speed. He squirmed like a worm on a hook until his feet found purchase by a ceiling corner. Simon kicked off. Raphael moved to intercept him, but Simon chucked the second piece of beam above, breaking the plaster overhead, moments before Raphael dashed under it. The other man swerved to avoid the new patch of sunlight. Simon pulled up sharply as Raphael leapt too close for comfort and Simon managed to gain enough speed to act. He kept his arms around the thick column at the base of the chandelier. Pulling out the doorknob and the chunk of glass from earlier, he beaned the doorknob hard as he could. It hit Raphael square in the face. Simon bolted as the doorknob was thrown back at him. It ricocheted off a wall and almost clipped Simon's ankle. He pulled his legs in tight. Raphael flung furniture at him, wood splintering on impact moments before Simon could dodge. Simon screamed as his own force flung him and when he was close to the tarp covered windows, he extended his arm to its full length. Glass in hand, once it touched the tarp and at his speed, it gave. Simon slowed, arm shuddering as the tarp ripped. Sunlight poured in from behind him, like water given direction.

Tarp hung in shreds, hanging by their threads. Simon had been considerably slowed down, but he had enough momentum left to avoid the large, melodious thrum. Simon looked up in time to see Raphael drag down a piano and push it to him. Simon yelled, kicking off to the next window. The piano was headed right for him. Simon dropped down, fingers grazing the crystal droplets and gripping tight on the last of the large hoops of the bottom rung of the chandelier. The piano sailed above him, it missed him. Its legs rattled the chain connecting the chandelier. Both shook. Simon struggled to keep his grip as the piano sung past. It crashed into the tarp. The dark fabric didn't stand a chance, ripping and pulling apart from the force. The piano took the tarp with it as it sailed out the window. It crashed with a spectacular ringing. Simon could just picture the keys scattering all over the pavement like broken teeth. The screams of pain from inside cut the imagination short, as sunlight once again poured through the windows. Raphael's shout of anger as he screamed at him in Spanish.

"Hijo de tu chingada madre!"

Raphael leapt down onto the chandelier. It shuddered underneath his weight and Simon's fingers jiggled, sweat making the cobwebs stick to him. It was that that kept him from falling. Simon yanked hard, trying to pull himself up. Raphael's foot cracked on Simon's fingers. He yelled, the steel toed dress shoes digging into his fingers, the flesh grinding from the force. Simon gritted his teeth, arms straining as he pulled himself up. His legs touched two wooden beams. Raphael was yanking the chandelier upwards and trying to pull Simon off it. Simon dug his feet in, wrapping them around the beams as far as his sneakers would allow.

Simon bent his knees, pulling the chandelier to him. Raphael yanked it hard in reply. The two kept up their tug of war for minutes. The strands of crystals shook, the sound growing as the giant lamp groaned from the tension. Simon pulled it closer to him, unwrapping from his perch when strands of crystal grazed his chin. He pushed off and they shot off. Raphael shouted a much longer phrase in Spanish that Simon couldn't catch. Simon pulled himself up just a strand of crystal ripped and Simon grabbed a thicker one in response. Raphael snarled, another foot coming down on Simon's shoulder. The suddenness of the movement made the chandelier swerve. Just as Simon found the base of the thing, he tumbled from the movement. The chandelier went in a broad circle. Simon threw a punch and missed, he forced his other fist into an uppercut. It connected with Raphael, who brought his knee up and Simon caught it in the chest. The movement made them change direction. Raphael kept his feet light as he charged at Simon, who feinted low and to the side. His claws extended right as Raphael kicked him in the chest. Simon's claws pierced Raphael's thigh and dug in, the fabric from the pants keeping Simon's claws from being easily removed.

The chandelier had become a tilt-a-whirl as the two vampires traded blows. Simon used one hand to keep steady and the other one to block or defend, but Raphael was freer with his technique. The chandelier groaned, its chains creaking and finally ripping in places. The long chains of it streamed behind them. They clinked together to make a faint noise, but-

Raphael gave a swift uppercut to the face. It came in tandem with a deep wrenching noise. The force of the blow was enough to make Simon's vision short, and when the world finally clicked back into place he realized that the chandelier had come loose. Simon moved just as they careened to the right. He froze, hands clenching the trunk of the chandelier. Raphael darted forward and their ride jolted and Simon's eyes sharpened to see a screw fly past them.

Raphael's hands grabbed him and gripped Simon's wrists. Simon gasped, eyes watering. The chandelier yanked, the broken strands flew up and whipped down. The pearl sized droplets wrapped around Simon and Raphael, tangling from their movements. A deep groan came from above as the chandelier could no longer hold them. Bits of plaster fell into Simon's hair and he tried to blink it out of his eyes. Beside him, Raphael thrashed. The movement pulled Simon closer to the other man. Simon's claws were twisted so deep that it he was up to his knuckles in Raphael's thigh, the blood dribbling out, making Simon dizzy. They hung suspended as the chandelier was on the verge of being ripped completely out of the ceiling. Simon struggled not to breathe deep, his mouth choking back the bile as Raphael's fangs got too close to his shoulder. The other man's eyes seethed with pure hate.

"Daylighter-"

The chandelier fell. Simon screamed. With nothing to prevent their descent, Simon tried to pull the ropes of broken chandelier off of them. Chunks of plaster flew past them; sunlight warm on Simon's back. Raphael screamed in his ear, obscenities rattling in his ear drums as spit wetted the side of his face.

"Just hang on to me!" Simon managed to shout.

Raphael cocked his fist a second before punching Simon in the throat. It had enough force to dislodge Simon's claws and flung him up and away from the falling chandelier. White spots burst in Simon's eyes; color and motion fritzing as he flailed his arms and legs. He hit a ceiling beam in the stomach and retched. His eyes returned to normal as he hung there, vision becoming perfect in time to witness Raphael.

He collapsed with the chandelier, which shattered in places. The hoops and broken strands came together to good and truly entangle and trap Raphael. Raphael bellowed in pain. Plaster still fell around him, large chunks smacking the carpet. A rough hewn circle had been torn away from the rest of the ceiling. Sunlight blazed down from above, it formed a perfect spotlight on Raphael, who was powerless to move from it. Welts formed all over bare flesh, smoke began to curl out from the angry patches of skin. With every move, he entwined himself deeper, until the stands dug into him and blood spurted onto the ground. It was so bright against the sunlight and the shoddy carpet. Simon's throat clenched as his fangs ached in his mouth.

Raphael's skin sizzled and popped, the burning smell reminiscent of bacon. Simon noticed none of the other vampires dared to pull him out. They all skirted the edges of all the holes filled with light. Simon shakily got to his feet. His knees buckled once and he grabbed the beams to stay up. From this height, he could find anyone. He dragged his eyes away from Raphael to the rest of the nest. Most looked horrified, but in a strange spectator sort of way. A kind of intensity that Simon rarely saw. He searched for Lenore and saw she was standing next to Camille, and he was struck by their expressions. Lenore was shaking, eyes glossy as her hair. She was behind Camille and closer to the back of the room. She was standing in a patch sunlight as well, but Simon realized he was the only one who noticed. No one else was looking at her. As for Camille, she was staring as if she had just had a fascinating point brought to her attention. Wide eyes and a slight smile.

Simon stood straighter and moved forward. The sun warmed him as he moved to part of the beam that once held the chandelier-it was barely holding on. Simon, with his back to the sun moved to it, until he was blocking it. Camille's gaze tore from Raphael to meet his eyes, and as if they were of one mind, the rest of the vampires did the same. Simon kept staring at Camille, willing himself not to stare back at the other vampires. Her lips began to move, but Simon couldn't bear to hear the words coming from them.

SPNTMI

Camille moved them to the Upper West Side that very night. As soon as the sun went down, she ushered them out of the building. Its cratered ceiling and walls kept them trapped until sundown. Simon had leapt down from his perch, keeping to the patches of sunlight. Vampires stared at him, eyes wide and flashing. Their fangs clicked together, a cicada-like hum as they tried to speak.

Camille stepped in immediately, striding to the now dead Raphael. She stared down impassively for a moment. Then looked to the rest of the nest. She said nothing but the remaining vampires straightened. At attention and trembling. Camille's face then broke into a smile.

They left that night and now Simon stared at the vampires bustling about in the lavish penthouse. The entire building was theirs. Someone had procured drinks, already filling crystal cut glasses with warm blood. Music played softly in the background, but Simon didn't care about any of that. He had to find Camille. Simon moved past a pair of vampires-a redhead and a brunette-setting a table. They did a double take as Simon walked past but he ignored them. He walked into the main room on the floor. A grand staircase did a slow spiral up to a balcony that led down to two hallways and an outside veranda behind it.

"Ah, there is the man of the hour."

Simon looked up to see Camille. She stood at the head of the stairs, a floor length shimmering dress. It was white, but darkening to blue by the time it reached her calves and at her feet it was a smoke-y midnight color. It was low cut and sleeve-less, but she wore white gloves that covered her elbows. Her hair was swept up in a braid and pined up. A small circlet of pearls went around her head. A thick collar of moonstone cut into thick vertical columns adorned her neck. Her lips glossed pink. Simon shuddered.

"Come up. Some things have been laid out for you. Second door on the right. Everything should be ready by the time you've finished."

Simon flinched but walked up the stairs. Camille padded down the banister, fingers lingering as she sauntered downwards. Their shoulders brushed and Simon hurried to his destination. He opened the door and started. Sitting on the bed was Lenore. She was wearing a green gossamer dress. It ended mid-thigh in strips, made to look like a shredded leaf. Simon briefly wondered if it was borrowed from some faeries. Elaborate straps wound around the shoulders and neck. Gold bracelets jangled on her arms. When she looked up he saw the butterfly pins in her hair. They looked like they were following a trail. Lenore's eyes widened at the sight of Simon and something in his chest tightened.

"Don't worry-I won't harm you."

"No I-" Lenore shook her head. "I wasn't worried about that."

"You should be."

Lenore gave him a long look, eyes blinking as if honey had been poured into them. She motioned for him to sit down. She scooted to give him room and when he did then she spoke.

"I think I need to know more about what's been happening."

"Fair enough."

Simon began with Clary. The Shadowhunters, Valentine and the war. The outcome and Camille and Raphael. Enough of a talk that he rasped by the end of it. Lenore nodded her head when he stopped.

"Yeah yeah. I'd say that's a lot." She nodded again. "I don't blame you by the way. You were just trying to help."

"Still am."

"Well that's got to count for something."

"…Yeah. Yeah I hope so. Cuz' that's what I've got to do. I have to make this right. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I kept talking about how you could have a nice life here and-"

Lenore cut him off. "Look, don't worry about me. I'll manage. Thanks though. Really. After Montana…" She took a breath. "There are people…like your Shadowhunters…but…"

"…Hunters?"

Lenore's eyes widened. "Yeah-have you met one?"

"A couple actually. Its mostly in families right? The ones who hung around the most were a couple of brothers named the Win-"

"-Chesters?"

"Yeah! Small world huh?"

Lenore smiled. "I'll say. You know, they actually helped me once. Helped my whole nest actually. Actually…that's-" she laughed. "A pair of hunters saved me and mine from another hunter. We managed to get out of that with only a few of our people dead. After that, we had to leave and our nest scattered. Most feared being hunted down and we were, so when I suggested this city, no one wanted to go, so I struck out on my own."

Simon barked out a laugh. "Well-that's yeah. Yeah yeah that'll do it. Sorry for the bad first impression. I wouldn't blame you if you left right now. In fact, you might wanna do that."

Lenore shrugged. "I dunno, not a whole lot of vampires talk the way you do."

Simon huffed out a laugh. "What?"

"I'm serious. So many vampires are trying to scrape a living-on human or otherwise if they have moral compunctions. I want to be in a like minded nest again. I want to be safe."

Simon felt an unexpected rush of emotion. Eyes blurred and it took him a moment to speak. "Yeah I want that too." He cleared his throat. "Can you, uh, hang on for a second? I'm gonna just…" He motioned to the bathroom door.

"Yeah." She nodded.

Simon grabbed the spare set of clothes off the chair and headed into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him. He pulled his phone out his pocket, amazed that it managed to survive his…bout with Raphael. He dialed Jo's number and began to change clothes. She answered within a couple of rings.

"Hello, Simon?"

"Hey. Yeah, hey it's me."

"Hey. What's up?"

"That's the sixty four dollar question." He laughed. "I uh…"

"Simon? Simon what's wrong?"

He found himself explaining what had happened after Jo had left up to the moments of the night. Simon turned on the sink and ducked his down to drink from the faucet. He listened to Jo's surprise.

"Holy shit?! That's intense, I'm Jesus-that's-holy shit are you ok? What were you thinking? She hasn't threatened you? What are you gonna do? How are you-"

"Woah, slow down."

He grabbed a wash cloth and scrubbed the blood off his limbs. Simon soaped himself up. Rinsing himself off in the sink, he responded.

"First of all, yeah that was stupid-yeah she is threatening, that's par the course. I was thinking that I was trying to do the right thing. Yeah yeah road to hell-I'm still thinking of a way to fix this."

Simon found a bottle of aftershave and doused himself with it. Grabbing the dress shirt, he searched for his pants.

"Ok, let me call some people and we'll figure something out."

"Yes-no-I mean wait a minute."

Lenore wrapped at the door. And Simon hurried to put the finishing touches.

"Hang on, let me call you back when I've got an idea. Its starting to come together."

"…Alright, yeah ok…just be careful ok."

"Yeah I'm definitely trying to do that. Talk to you later."

"Ok, talk to you later."

He hung up and opened the door. Lenore stared back at him. Her tights were butterflies fluttering up her legs. Her mouth worked open and shut. Her hands shook. He nodded. They headed out and went to the balcony. Camille was waiting for them, arms extended. Lenore scooted out of the way, sending Simon a look as she descended the stairs. He swallowed heavily and turned back to Camille. He walked to spend next to her. As soon as he walked by her side, she began to speak.

"My clan-you are all my clan. I have returned to you. Now we can all be prosperous again. Clave and Covenant are no more, I can assure you. Simon Lewis the Daylighter is proof of that." She gestured to Simon. "Raphael Santiago spurned his company at his own peril. We should keep to our own people and now we have the opportunities to do so."

She smiled down at them all.

"And now we have the means to change."

Simon stared and slowly the room raised their glasses. The light caught the red liquid. Raised pools in the light. The glimmer caught Camille's eyes and Simon had a flash of foresight. He shuddered. Camille raised her glass.

"So here's to you. The future is for you. Now in the modern parlance-eat drink and be merry!"

This brought up a cheer. Camille gave a mischievous smile to Simon. She gestured for him to follow. Her hips swayed to opened the glass doors. Cold air ruffled his hair and he breathed deep. The stars overhead pulsed gently above him. Camille turned to him.

"You've been of great service."

Her tone was soft, kind even but Simon gritted his teeth, suddenly shaking.

"No I was your attack dog. You sicc'd me on him. I killed someone-to save you."

"For which I am eternally grateful."

"You should be."

"…Excuse me?"

Simon straightened up, back aching as he did so.

"Now, I don't care what you tell the others. You told me that we in this together. Which is what is going to happen. We are gonna run this nest-clan together."

Simon kept his lips closed, but his teeth were pressing hard against them. He willed her to remember what happened hours before. Camille shuddered, and for a second Simon thought her face would contort. Blue eyes that shuddered and creaked with malice until her shoulders forced themselves to relax and her face calmed down. Her smile was forced, but Simon took it as a victory.

"You drive a hard bargain."

"I tend to do that."

SPNTMI

Simon raced down the streets, the lamp posts illuminating the street signs. The address was still written down somewhere, the scrawl burned in his memory. He passed the bodega with the payphone and knew he was close. When he got there, he could see the building was still the same. He pounded on the door and brought his fist up short when it opened.

"Fuck you want at this hour?"

"Luis."

"You look…I was going to say shitty, but that would be an understatement."

"…Can I come in?"

"No."

Luis's good eye fixed on him narrowed and Simon shivered. The past week must have been written on his face. Luis's expression didn't change. He kept his body still over the entryway and his arms crossed. Simon had no doubt that there was iron in the man's pockets.

"So…head of the vampire clan of Manhattan now, huh?"

"Sort of…if you want to call it that."

"What do you want to call it? Cuz' I call it being the big bad monster king."

"Well I call it being played."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Luis tilted his head, hands slowly coming to his sides. After a moment, a smirk came to his face.

"…I have an idea."

SPNTMI

TBC…