Hellow people :D Thank you so much for all the reviews! Seventeen is a new record for me, lol. Anyway, I have been typing this up for the past few days. Coincidentally, right after I stayed home from school the other day for being "sick", I caught an actual cold. Go figure. So I actually had plenty of time to type this up. I also wrote down some character designs for exsisting as well as upcoming characters and an outline for the next eleven or so chapters. So I know exactly whats going to happen and whose going to show up. All thats left to do is write it all down.

Here is the third chapter! It's a little longer than previous ones, but some interesting stuff happens.

All characters except for Holm, his mother, and his father belong to Cassandra Clare, as well as any settings (Alicante, Idris, ect.). Idea/Plot belongs to me.

Dinner was eventful, as usual. Holms two close friends from school, Lark and Saille, stopped by to hang out. It ended out with his mother insisting they stay for dinner, and eventually spend the night. Holm didn't mind much. Lark and Saille were the two people of his school mates that he was willing to put up with on a daily basis. True to his nature, Holm generally only hung out with people of the same social and wealth status as him. And Lark and Saille were this and more. Lark's family was new money. They had only recently acquired a fortune a decade or so ago but flaunted it as well as any old blue blood. That, and Lark was one of the most beautiful girls at the Academy. She was tall, but still a good three or four inches shorter than Holm, with long, thick, mahogany brown hair. She had big, chocolate brown doe-eyes to match framed with thick lashes and her skin was tan and flawless. Saille would have been your typical partner-in-crime if Holm would have been able to put up with one. His family was involved in politics and his mother was the current inquisitor. They were fabulously wealthy, but small and exclusive. He was a little shorter than Holm with long, pale blond hair which he tied back with a piece of leather. His eyes were a steely grey and his expressions generally serious.

After dinner, the three of them hung out in the Manor's rec room until well into the night when Holm's mother came in and finally demanded that they go to sleep. In all that time, Holm was wrestling with himself over whether or not to share Clary's diary with his friends. Finally he decided that it could do no harm. Holm's mother made up a guest room for Lark and Saille stayed in Holm's room with him. After they were sure both his parents were asleep, however, they had Lark sneak out of her room and join them.

The three of them all sat on Holm's bed while he explained about Clary's diary. Lark, whose family was scattered and extremely large, seemed particularly interested in it and after much convincing Holm leaned over and pulled it out from under the bed where he had hid it. He set it delicately on the bed while Lark was hopping up and down in excitement.

"Wow." She said, reaching out hesitantly and glancing towards Holm for approval to take it. He nodded and she picked it up gingerly and set it on her lap. "It doesn't look very old." She said absently, running her hand lightly over the front cover.

"That's because I had it restored. You should have seen it before." Holm replied, shoving several grapes from the fruit bowl he had set out for snacks at once into his mouth.

"Clary Graymark." Lark read after having flipped open the cover to read the inside. She ran her slim finger along the line that crossed out 'Graymark' and then over the name 'Lightwood'. "Lightwood." She read. "She must have crossed out the Graymark part after she got married and had her name changed."

"I guess."

"So, this thing is a hundred years old right?" Saille said, flopping down onto the bed next to Lark. "Why bother with it? You could probably get a pretty penny for it."

Holm snapped around and, somewhat playfully, whacked Saille upside the head. "Cause, dummy, I hardly need any more money. And it was my great-great-grandmothers. It's got sentimental value."

"I don't think you've ever been sentimental in your life. You're not capable of it." Saille retorted with a smirk, rubbing the spot Holm had hit.

"I agree with Saille." Lark added, her voice distant as she flipped through the diary and listened to their conversation at the same time.

"What? You think I should sell it too?" Holm asked, surprised. He didn't think Lark would have stood for it.

He was right. "God no!" She said with sudden vehemence, her head snapping up to look at him as she paused in the middle of turning a page. "I just meant I never thought of you as capable of being sentimental. You're much too much of a spoiled brat for that."

Holm fumed for a short moment before he snapped back, "Well your one to talk about being a spoiled brat."

"Touché" Lark retorted, smirking.

"Okay, enough of this," Saille said, reaching over for the book. Lark handed it over hesitantly, her expression wary while Holm's eyes followed the passage of the diary like a hawk. "What's so special about your heritage anyway? You'd never even heard of this Clary broad before you found this old book."

"It's a diary." Holm corrected, snatching the book away while Lark hit Saille soundly on the head for his 'broad' comment.

"I think it's fantastic, especially considering its over a hundred years old." Lark stated. "Don't you dare get rid of it, Holm Lightwood, do you hear me?"

"I'm not gonna get rid of it just because Thing 2 over here says I should." Holm said with an amused smile.

"Why do I gotta be Thing 2? I wanna be Thing 1." Saille huffed.

"Because I'm Thing 1."

"Uhg!"

"If your Thing 1 and he's Thing 2, then who am I?" Lark said, pointing to Holm, Saille, and herself respectively.

Holm and Saille exchanged a quick glance and then looked back at her. "The fish." They chorused.

"What?!" Lark shouted as Holm and Saille burst out laughing, picking up a pillow and attacking them with it.

"You guys are jerks!" She said with a laugh, raising the pillow to hit them over the heads with it.

The door to Holm's room opened slowly and his father stepped in. Lark paused, the pillow raised in the air. All three pairs of teenage eyes were turned towards Holm's father like deer's caught in headlights.

"You're lucky your mother is tired and sent me instead." He said slowly, rubbing his head.

The three of them only blinked and were silent.

His father sighed and yawned. "It's 4 a.m. Go to sleep." He commanded tiredly. He turned and trudged from the room.

The three friends glanced around at each other after he had left. "Well, that was only slightly embarrassing." Lark commented sarcastically. "But I think your dad is right, anyway, Holm. I'm tired so I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Suit yourself." Saille shrugged, picking up an apple out of the bowl of snacks and examining it morosely. He turned to Holm. "Why can't you ever eat normal stuff? Like chips?"

"Are you aware of how unhealthy chips are?" Holm asked back, his eyebrows raised.

"Are yousure you're a teenager?" Saille countered.

"I'm sure I'm a Shadowhunter." Holm said, biting into a pear. "And a Shadowhunter needs to stay fit. You can't exactly do that eating chips."

"You're crazy."

"Ok, ok, you two." Lark intervened before things could get ugly. "Good night." She said firmly, and Holm was briefly reminded of his mother. She leaned over and kissed them both on the cheek before sweeping out of the room.

Holm glanced sideways at Saille. He was blushing slightly with his hand touching his cheek where Lark had kissed him. He rolled his eyes. "Oh boy."

The next morning the three of them ate breakfast and then went into the city to hang out. None of them mentioned the diary anymore after that, but Holm's mind must have been on it all day, he thought. He hadn't read any more entries from it since before dinner the night before and it was nagging on his mind. After a while he lost his patience and just told Lark and Holm that he would didn't feel well and was going home. The two paused while peering into a shop window and glanced at each other, then shrugged. They knew how Holm was. And they knew that complaining about it would do them no good. Holm walked away from them, heading back to where he had hitched his horse, feeling only slightly guilty. He didn't like just ditching his friends, but he only had so much patience. And he had begun to feel like a third wheel anyway.

The manor was empty when Holm got home, with a note in the grand foyer written by his mother that said both she and Holm's father had been called into to deal with some emergency problems at their work. Apparently, an abnormal amount of demons had been sniffing around the borders of Idris. Holm narrowed his eyes as he read the paper before he crushed it in his fist. Demons rarely hung around the borders of Idris. Even if most of them were stupid, they all knew better than that. He was concerned, but brushed it off and ran upstairs. The rest of the evening he spent browsing through Clary's diary and just being lazy in his room, which had become just as messy as it generally was before his mother had gone through it, picking up random objects. The next entry had him laughing somewhat, and he found himself flipping back to look at the picture of Clary and Jace on the cover, wanting to imagine the events of the diary as accurately as possible. He wanted to remember just what they looked like as he read.

"June 3, 2007

Dear Diary,

I write to you now, exhausted. I can barley open my eyes, but I am determined to continue with this diary. Years from now when I'm old and can't remember things for myself, I will have this to read. And when I'm gone, my children (if I do have any) can read this, and their children. So here I am, at two o' clock in the morning, so tired I can't bring myself to get up and go take a shower or even go to the bathroom, writing in my diary. Go figure. Jace is asleep next to me (no, we didn't) and if he ever finds out, I'll never hear the end of it.

The day before yesterday we got back from Alicante. We spent the afternoon and some of the night hanging out with the Lightwoods, Simon, and Magnus at the Institute. Because my room was not ready Maryse insisted I sleep in Isabelle's room. When she finally went to sleep I snuck out and met Jace in the greenhouse. We laid down in the grass in the spot where we had first kissed. A little cheesy, I know, but it's sort of become our spot, I guess. He tucked me into his side and I laid my head on chest with his arm wrapped around my shoulder. And, ok, I admit it, we kissed. It was different than the kisses I remember getting from him. Actually, no, that's not completely right. The kisses we have now are like the first or second kiss we had. Before we had ever thought we were siblings. I remember, while thinking he was my brother, thinking back a lot to those moments and comparing them to the kiss we had in the Seelie Court. The two seemed so vastly different. When we kiss now, it's sweet, and carefree, but there's still that spark. My face feels like it's on fire and my heart pounds so hard that I'm afraid he can hear it. Knowing him, he probably can. He always smirks or chuckles in a way that makes me think he knows something I don't. But I don't ask. He would probably tell me, if I asked, but I think I already know what it is. Then again, I could be wrong. There's no knowing with Jace.

I think we, or maybe it was just me, fell asleep in the garden. I woke up in Isabelle's room the next day. Or should I say, I was woken up. Robert came in to wake me at six in the morning. The rest of the day he had me stretching, running around, and exercising like crazy. I had assumed that I would be starting with the academic part of my training, but, God, was I wrong. Robert explained that he would be teaching me the combat part of it first, so that I could protect myself. Now that Valentine was dead, he didn't think we would have too much trouble, but a Shadowhunter must always be ready, he told me. "We wouldn't want Jace to have a heart attack," he said with a laugh. I said nothing, busy running around the gym of the institute and wiping the sweat off my forehead. As far as I was concerned, nothing any of the stuff we were doing had anything to do with Shadowhunter training. Jace, who was watching, explained that they had to build up my non-existent muscles before anything. I guess I understood that.

They gave me an hour break to have lunch and we finished right before dinner. I was so sore even then all I wanted to do was trudge to my room and just lie down and not move for the rest of my life. Jace wouldn't let me, insisting that I had to eat something or I wouldn't be able to continue tomorrow. I groaned at the thought and made him give me a piggy-back ride to the kitchen where I discovered I was actually starving and wolfed down my food. Jace watched me with a highly amused expression and then carried me back to my room. I think I fell asleep on the way there, because the next thing I knew I was waking up, still in my training clothes, with Jace asleep next to me. It's actually the first time I've ever seen his sleeping face. It's one of those rare opportunities I almost never get for me to examine him with an artist's eye. I can't do it usually because he'll catch me staring and question me about it with a smug smile. I find myself mentally pointing out things I've never noticed before. The angle of his cheekbones, the length of his eyelashes, how they brush against his cheek pressed up against the pillow while he slept on his side, the line of his jaw and the curves of his muscled arms. And the lines of his scars, crisscrossing elegantly across his skin.

Ok, I'm getting carried away. I have training tomorrow. I seriously need to sleeeep.

—Clary"

All across the page, scribbled messily, were quick sketches. Holm stared at them, taking in every detail of each one. They appeared to be of Jace, while he was sleeping. He gathered Clary must have done them while examining the sleeping Jace as she had said. They were all segmented parts of him. His eye, with seeming emphasis on his lashes and the angle of his cheek were it was pressed up against the pillow. His shoulder and neck, with faint lines crossing over them. Shadowhunter runes, Holm noted. Then in the corner, a complete sketch of Jace's sleeping face. It was somewhat interesting to see Jace through Clary's eyes. The sketch was messy and rushed, but still very well done. Holm was pleased to realize that he had learned a new thing about his great-great-grandmother. She had been an artist. But this one thing only made him want to know more.

His father's voice announced his parents return, sounding loudly through the house. "Holm! Were home!"

Holm was abruptly reminded of the demons snooping around the borders of Idris. He lightly shut the diary and ran downstairs. His parents explained that a group of Shadowhunters had been assigned to investigate and destroy any demons they came across. Holm raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Do they know who is controlling them?"

"Now, Holm," His father cautioned. "We don't know if anyone is controlling them yet. We don't want to jump to conclusions that might frighten some people."

"Of course someone is controlling them. Demons don't just snoop randomly around Idris. Someone had to have told them to."

"Holm, you haven't even graduated from the Academy yet." His mother said, coming up behind his father. She set her purse down on a nearby table and brushed a strand of mouse-brown hair behind her ear. "Why not leave this to the adults, dear?" She said, coming up to him. She gripped his chin in her thin hand and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"I am an adult." Holm replied moodily, crossing his arms, but said nothing. "I only have a few months to go before graduating."

"But you haven't graduated yet. Now, it's late. You have that appointment with the Council Member tomorrow and it's early. Youll need to be up in the morning, so go get some sleep." His mother commanded, yawning herself.

Holm blinked, surprised. He had almost completely forgotten about the Council Appointment and was suddenly and abruptly excited. "I almost forgot." Holm admitted somewhat reluctantly.

His mother shrugged her coat off and began walking towards her bedroom. "Okay, good night dear." His father, whose arm was wrapped around his mother's shoulder, followed her, but paused when Holm called out to them.

"Dad?"

His father, yawning, turned. "Hmm?"

"Uhm.." Holm shifted around a bit. "Thanks."

His father blinked. "For what?"

"For the appointment. Thanks." He repeated, trying to shrug it off as not-a-big-deal. He didn't quite succeed.

His father's lips twitched a little and nodded. His mother, Holm saw, had turned to him and her eye brows were raised. They said nothing more as Holm turned and strode back to his room.

"Holm! Get up!" His mother's voice startled him awake. Holm groaned tiredly and dragged a pillow over his head to block the light coming in through the window. His mother was standing by the window, her hand on the drawstring of the curtains. She was still dressed in her nightgown and think silk robe. She yawned and Holm guessed she must have woken up just recently. She stared at him through still-bleary eyes. "Get up and get ready. You're going to talk with the Vampire Council Representative, remember?"

"Uhg." Holm only said.

"Come on." His mother insisted, walking across the room and pulling the covers off of him. "I thought you were excited about it."

"I hate mornings." Holm grumbled unhappily, but rose up slowly from bed, brushing back his thin fine blond curls from his face.

"Well, the Academy starts up again in a little over a week, so you might as well get used to it." His mother pointed out, moving towards the door. "Im having the cook make breakfast this morning, and the maids are getting the bathroom ready for your shower." His mother explained, her hand on the doorframe. "And the carriage is being readied for you."

"I don't need a carriage. I'll just use a horse." Holm said blearily as he stumbled towards his dresser.

"It will make a better impression if you use a carriage." His mother pointed out. She had turned around and was now leaning on the doorframe, watching him pull clothes messily out of his dresser.

"I'm only going there to ask a few questions. I don't need an impression."

His mother rolled her eyes but said nothing and swept out of the room.

The rest of the morning Holm spent taking a shower, getting dressed, and eating breakfast and by the end of the morning, Holm was in an overall better mood. His mother's cooking was good, but he always enjoyed having Cook make food. It was always professionally done and delicious. After wards, he went outside to the front of the manor and had the footman alert the stable boy to bring a horse around.

"Scratch that, Hobs. Were taking the carriage.' Holm heard his father's voice behind him and turned. His father walked up to him, dressed in a suit. He ran his gaze over Holm's somewhat plain t-shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing?" Holm asked, irritated.

"What are you wearing?" His father countered, his hands in his pockets.

"Clothes. And you're not coming with me." Holm responded dryly.

His father's eyes narrowed. He looked up as the carriage came around the corner of the Manor and pulled to a stop in front. "Your lucky were running late or I'd insist you change your clothes. Let's go." He said, stepping up and pulling open the door of the carriage.

"You're not coming!" Holm wailed slightly.

"I have some business at the Council Hall anyway." His father replied in a calm tone. "And I told Councilwoman Magdalena I would escort you as far as the Council Hall. I won't be in the actually appointment with you." He explained, stepping aside so Holm could climb up into the carriage.

"Fine." Holm relented moodily, turning to his father as he climbed up into the carriage as well and said a few short words to the driver. Abruptly the carriage began to move. "So her name is Councilwoman Magdalena?"

"Yes. She is the vampire Council Representative and has been since the Downworlders instatement into the Council."

"How much does she know about Clary?"

"I don't know." His father answered in an unsure tone. "When I mentioned Clary's name, she seemed to recognize it, but didn't say much. She did agree rather quickly to the appointment, though, so I'm assuming she knows something."

In the carriage it took a good twenty minutes to reach Alicante and another five to weave through morning traffic and reach the Council Hall. His father escorted him through the door and up to the receptionist's desk. Holm was now slightly glad his father had come along. He wasn't sure he would have wanted to speak with the snappy receptionist again. His father told him that everything was being taken care of and left to attend to his business. Holm was told that Councilwoman Magdalena was in a meeting at the moment and made to wait in the lounge. After half-an-hour had passed and his patience was seriously wearing thin, he was finally escorted into another room. It wasn't a small office or sitting room as Holm had anticipated. Instead he was taken into a huge, empty trial room. All around were theater-like seats where he assumed the jury usually sat and towards the front of the room, a section of seats for the council. In the middle of the room, on the floor where he thought the accused must stand, was a desk and two chairs, placed somewhat randomly. The receptionist left him there before he could turn and question her about the nature of the meeting room and he glanced around awkwardly before sitting in a chair in front of the desk.

The silence of the huge room bothered him a little and his mind was off, busy thinking of Clary's diary, when the sound of a door opening somewhere in the room startled him from his reverie. He jumped and turned to see a tall, slim woman with pretty, long blond hair sweep into the room and approached him, wearing a neat suit with slim pants. Her skin was deathly pale and her eyes a disturbing shade of red. Despite her slim, willow-like appearance, her face was severe and only made more so by the blunt, straight cut of her bangs, which stopped just under her angled eyebrows.

"Well, now, you are Holm Lightwood I suppose?" She said, sitting in the seat behind the desk across from him.

"I am." He replied with a nod. "And you are Councilwoman Magdalena?"

"I am." She answered with a slight smirk. "I am a busy woman, Mr. Lightwood, so I would appreciate making this meeting brief. I agreed to it merely because of my acquaintance with your father and my connection with that which I believe you have come to me today about." She explained, folding her hands together and resting her chin atop them. "I believe you have a few questions to ask me?"

"Yes." Holm said, quelling a sarcastic retort to her comments. "About my great-great-grandmother, Clarissa Lightwood?"

"Ah, yes. I knew her, though believe it or not I'd never spoken with her. They called her Morgenstern still when I first heard of her."

"Yes. It was Valentine's name." Holm said.

Councilwoman Magdalena nodded. "He was an evil man. I fought in the Battle of Brocelind Plains, in fact, the night he died. He owed me many lives. I am glad he got what he deserved, in the end. What is it you wish to know?"

"I just… want to know more. I discovered her diary and was hoping to speak with someone who might have known her personally."

"Do you have the diary with you?"

Holm hesitated before answering. "I do. Here." He said, pulling it from his lap and sliding it across the desk.

Councilwoman Magdalena didn't touch the diary, but leaned over to peer at the picture of Clary and Jace on the cover. "Yes, that is Clarissa." She said with a nod. "I'm sorry to say you've come to the wrong person, if you want to talk to someone who knew her personally." The Councilwoman said with a sympathetic expression. Holm felt his heart drop a little, but it suddenly stopped its decent when she paused and her face lit up a little in realization. "Wait, no. That's wrong." She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "I didn't know her personally, but I know someone alive today who did." She scribbled a name and address on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to him. Holm picked up the paper and looked at it. Above the address, which was for somewhere in Brooklyn, was printed in the Councilwoman's elegant, slanted handwriting, 'Magnus Bane'.

"Who is Magnus Bane?" Holm questioned, his eyebrows furrowed. He wondered if it was possibly the same Magnus he had read about mentioned in Clary's diary.

"He is a warlock. I am an acquaintance of his, but I have not spoken to him since the night of the celebration part after Valentine's fall over one hundred years ago. But he was close to you great-great-grandmother." Her expression became troubled after glancing at the paper with Magnus's address. "I'm not sure that address will yield any results. No one knows where Magnus Bane is now. But that is where he was living at the time."

"Can I send a message to this address?" Holm questioned, peering down at the paper.

The Councilwoman tilted her head in thought. "I think you could, but I cant be sure whether or not he even lives there still. If you want my advice, I would just send the message directly to him."

Holm's eyes widened a little. "Can I do that?"

She nodded. "Yes, with a tracking rune. It's good for emergencies, but can be inconvenient if the person you're sending it to in question receives it at an inappropriate time or place for them."

"That doesn't matter. How do I do it?"

"It is generally one of the last things a Nephilim learns at the Academy or training, or so Im told. Judging from your lack of knowledge, I would assume you have not yet studied it yet." She slid the pad of paper and pen across the desk towards him. "Write your message and I will have it sent for you, as a favor to the Lightwoods."

"No offence, Councilwoman, but I have no immediate desire to owe any favors to anyone." He said, not completely able to keep his contempt at the idea to himself.

The Councilwoman sniffed. "If your great-great-grandmother truly was close to Magnus Bane as I think, then it will be a favor for a friend. There will be no need to repay me."

Holm was not so sure, but he nodded and bent over and wrote a quick message to Magnus Bane, asking if they could perhaps meet up in the next few days and speak. He then folded the paper and handed it to the Councilwoman while he stood. Councilwoman Magdalena stood as well and Holm bowed his head so swiftly it looked almost like a nod. He couldn't stand having to lower his head to others.

"Thank you, Councilwoman."

"You're welcome. And I hope you learn some things on this quest of yours, Mr. Lightwood."

He was going to respond. He was going to ask what she meant, and that the word quest seemed like a bit of an overstatement, but she had already swept out of the room.

There is Chapter 3! I bet you were expecting her to say Simon's name, weren't you? Don't worry, he will show up soon enough. :D Reviews are better than Twilight. (OMG!!)

Look forward to the next chapter! Alot of stuff will be happening. :D And for the record, MarineLullaby, Klondike bars are the AWESOMEST ice cream bar to ever be invented. Seriously, the guy who came up with them should get a Nobel Prize.