They had followed Maia to the subway station, where they were now waiting for their ride to the mysterious interviewee of the Lightwoods (if it wasn't already too late). While they were waiting, Jon and the others took the opportunity to get some answers out of their new friend.

"Apparently you said something to Jocasta and Helen back at the airport" he started, "something about- what was it again?" he turned towards the two girls.

"You said that you were a friend, in another life" replied Helen, looking directly at Maia. Before answering she took a deep breath, almost as if hesitating to tell them anything. She said that the truth might be overwhelming Jon remembered, worried about what she might have to tell them.

"I was referring to the life that was taken from us; the lives we al lead before the world was changed to this" she gestured towards their surroundings.

"Hang on" Horace butted in, "you're saying that this isn't real or something? Like parallel worlds and Doctor Who type rubbish?"

"I don't expect you to believe me-"

"Of course we don't!" yelled Will, before realising that they were in a public place and people might be listening, "for one thing, wouldn't we remember like you apparently do if none of this was real?"

"No; I remember because I'm one of the eight". Eight. Jon saw recognition in Helen's eyes first, but then he too remembered how many times that number had invaded this mysterious quest. "I don't know why, or how, or anything about it really; all I know is that eight people were chosen to keep their memories of the old world and I'm one of them".

"Was ... Jordan one too?" Sebastian asked, looking anxious for mentioned Maia's recently departed friend.

"No, but we were very... close ... in the old world so I made sure our paths crossed again and I convinced him of the truth. He didn't remember like I do, but he wasn't ignorant of the truth like everyone else".

"Have you met any of the other eight? Or do you know who they are?" Jocasta asked.

"Funnily enough, they're people I either met or knew of in the old world and in this world I was able to maintain contact. There's only one of them we still haven't identified, but we think he or she is the person behind all this"

"The bad guy?"

"I suppose".

"Are we all in this other world?"

"I can't guarantee it. But some of you are definitely people that I remember" at this she gave a curious look toward Jon and then Sebastian. There was a long silence as the group turned towards each other, all of them fighting between scepticism and belief. Jon was perhaps most torn; she was trying to tell them that everything they knew; all of their memories, relationships, experiences; were a lie, and that tucked away somewhere were their true selves and they knew nothing about them. What if I don't like the real me? Jon thought sadly, what if this life is better?

"So who is actually behind this?" he finally plucked up the courage to ask.

"I wish I knew. For a while we thought it could be-" again that suspicious look toward Jon, "but whoever it is is still trying to manipulate everyone around them. That's why the Lightwoods have been questioning him"

"Him?"

"The guy we're about to go and see".

He wasn't going to risk going to Central Park today, not when his friend had warned him about the recent movements of the Shadowhunters. He wondered if Maia and Jordan had tracked the first group yet, and if so how much of the truth they would tell them. He was bored; I won't be bored much longer, not when we're finally coming to the end of this nightmare. His room was littered with pages and pages of notes and research. Whenever some of the eight came to visit (usually his Central Park friend) they would narrow down all the Shadowhunters, Downworlders, demons, angels, mundane and whoever else they could think of to try and pin all of this down to an individual. But it was useless; the culprit was still a mystery after all this time.

He was shocked out of his thoughts by someone angrily banging on his front door; maybe it's Maia and Jordan with the Shadowhunters. Maybe it's Magnus, escaped from capture, telling me they've won, maybe it's Alec and Isabelle come to question me again, or worse ... He cautiously approached the door and looked through the peephole, discovering to his horror and dismay that his last theory was right; on the other side were the Lightwoods, brandishing weapons and flashing eyes that were filled with anything but mercy.

He threw anything he could at the door to barricade himself in, but within minutes the Lightwoods gave up the notion of him willingly opening the door and started to try and break it down. In his room he fished out a blank piece of paper from the sea of scribbled notes and wasted precious seconds in finding a pen. He did his best to write legibly as he thought up the message of warning for whoever came to the apartment first. One it was done, and made coherent, all he had to do was sign his name.

S-

The lock on the door was broken with a violent bang from the blunt end of a weapon, but he still had time while the two Nephilim attempted to manoeuvre through his furniture barricade. He had to finish before they began to search the apartment, where they would undoubtedly find him and either kill him or take him as a prisoner.

I-

The crackle of Isabelle's electrum whip could be heard all the way from his room. He had no doubt that the momentum she could create with the weapon would have been enough to clear a path for her and her brother and come into the apartment. His time was almost up but all he needed to do was just finish his name.

M-

Alec (or Alexander in this world) was the first to reach him. He didn't hesitate to punch him in the face and using the opportunity when he fell to the floor to track him backwards and towards the main room. Alec's grip was too strong to break out of, but with an ounce of strength he was able to grab the paper and desperately scratch his pen across the surface

I-

He was being lifted from the ground; now that Isabelle was helping there was no chance of him finding a way out of their savage hold on him. The sweat from his hands was causing the paper to slowly slip from his fingers. Now it was stationary on the wooden floor and he was moving away from it, but before he pushed forward with all his might, and bending down was able to finish writing his final letter.

M.

Halfway across the world, Jace and Aline kept their vigil on the still unconscious Clary. The Clave's most prodigal Shadowhunter was still lost in the words tumbling through her mind; the memories that were slowly coming back to her. But now something, or rather someone, new had found their way into this stream of remembrance.

His freshly scrubbed hair was dark brown instead of green or pink, and his glasses perched crookedly on the end of his nose. He looked less as if he were contemplating the powers of darkness and more as if he were on his way to chess club.

"Jesus!"

"Actually, it's just me. Although I've been told the resemblance is startling"

"I've been in love with you for ten years"

She woke up with a start.

"I remember"

And then there were nine.