Here is chapter four, everyone. Thank you again for all the reviews. They are what keep me writing! I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post. This week is Final Exams for me before winter break and I'm a little stressed. This chapter was a little more difficult to write, but I think it's my favorite so far. It's certainly longer than any other chapter I've done for this story so far. And it was very important to the story line, as well as to Clary and Jace's lives. I had to decide what would make most sense for them to happen after CoG. I also did a lot of editing for it. It was actually originally a lot longer, but I thought it stretched the chapter out unnecessarily and made it boring. So this is a condensed version, and it is actually better than the first.
Enjoy!
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.
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Two days after Holm's appointment with Holm had his father inquire about the message at his work and whether or not it had been successfully sent. His father came back later that day to announce that the message had been sent but there had yet to be any sort of reply. Days passed. Holm impatiently waited for a reply while going through Clary's diary. Five days later, however, there still was none and Holm was thoroughly furious. He continually asked his father if he was absolutely sure that the message had been sent and by the fifth day, his father was almost as frustrated as Holm, which was saying something. Holm sat out in the Manor's garden with Clary's diary in his lap, contemplating what to do. The Academy was starting up in four days. He was very quickly running out of time. Once training at the Academy began he would have no time to spare for another six months, even to browse through Clary's diary. He was the school star. He was captain of the dueling club. He got the top grades in all classes. He was the best at sports. All the Professors loved him. And he was not about to lose that status as long as he had to go to the Academy. Meaning if he didn't act then, he would not be able to do anything about this Magnus Bane ordeal for half a year, until graduation.
He shot up from his seat on the stone bench in the garden, Clary's diary gripped in his hand. What was he doing? He was not the type to merely sit around and wait. He strode through the garden and yanked open the back door of the house, thoroughly starling the kitchen staff. He stomped through the Manor and ran up the stairs. His stride slowed as he approached his parents study, and through the closed doors he could hear their voices slightly muffled by the wood.
"But Ilex, I'm worried. He's become completely obsessed with that diary…" His mother's voice said through the door. Holm paused outside and listened carefully.
"Worried about what, Ailim? I for one am completely relieved that he's become interested in something other than himself." His father replied.
"But, that's all he thinks about nowadays, that diary…"
"And least he's not constantly thinking about himself anymore."
"Oh, I suppose—"
Holm snorted softly and decided to just disregard everything he had said. I do not constantly think of myself, he thought. He was about to reach for the knob and throw the door open, but caught himself. His mother would raise hell if he just barged in. So he raised his hand and knocked softly on the door instead. "Hey, it's me! I gotta ask you guys something!"His parent's voices abruptly fell quiet for a short moment and then he heard his mother's soft voice, "Come in."
He opened the door and stepped into the study, the diary tucked under his arm. His parents were turned in their seats on their expensive plush sofa and looking at him with their arms over the back of the seat. "Holm. What is it?" His mother asked sweetly, seemingly unsure whether he had been listening or not.
Holm ignored their tone and walked around the sofa to stand in front of them. "Mom, Dad, I want to ask you something."
"A question?" His father asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. His expression was weary.
Holm straightened. "No. Rather, a request?" He caught his parents flash a quick glance at each other before looking back at him.
"And what is this request?" His mother asked, her expression gone from wary to guarded. It was extremely rare for Holm to ask for anything. Usually, he just took.
"I want to go to the mundane world." He saw his parent's eyes widen almost comically in response and he was quick to add, "Only for a few days."
"Why on earth do you want to go there, Holm?" His mother demanded. His father was silent, but Holm caught him glancing towards the diary.
"It's been almost a week since I sent a message to that Magnus Bane and he still hasn't replied. The new term at the Academy starts in four days." Holm explained. "I have to talk to him before that, because I won't be able to during the school year. So since he hasn't replied to my message, I want to go find him."
"That is rather rash, Holm. What's wrong with waiting until term is over?" His mother asked almost angrily.
"That won't work." Holm replied with fervor. "I have questions. I can't wait six months for them to be answered."
"You don't even know where this Magnus Bane is!"
"But I have a start." He held up the paper given to him by Councilwoman Magdalena with Magnus Bane's address on it.
"A start means nothing. For all you know, he is halfway around the world." His mother replied snappily.
"But that's what portals are for."
"You cannot count on portals for travel." His mother pointed out in frustration. "There are very few and only warlocks can make new ones. And it takes a lot to get permission to put up another."
"But you guys can handle that, you work at the Council Hall, for Gods sakes!"
"Holm we can't just pull strings every time you want—"
"Now, Ailim, I say we let him go." His father finally put it.
His mother's head snapped around to look at him. "What?"
"I don't think it's a problem. We can get enough clearance to open one portal that will take him to the address the Councilwoman gave him."
"But, Ilex, what about his school? The term is about to start, he can't just go wandering off in some filthy mundane city—"
"I see no problem as long as he is back before the term starts."
His mother seemed to fume for a few moments. She sighed after a while and seemed to contemplate it. Then she turned and spoke to Holm, "Fine, I suppose. But you do have school. If you can be back in three days," his mother held up three slim fingers, her expression stern, "you can go." She finished.
"Three days?" Holm asked, warily.
"If you're not back by then," His mother warned, "we will confiscate your steele."
"What?!" Holm shouted, outraged. "That's ridiculous! How am I supposed to train without it?"
"You won't." His mother said simply.
Holm fumed for a few moments but relented. He huffed and nodded. "Fine. Thank you." He managed to squeeze out through clenched teeth. "How soon can you get the portal open?"
His parents glanced at each other and stood up. "Tomorrow afternoon, the earliest." His father replied. "We still have to get clearance and contact a warlock."
Holm sighed. Damn. That cut out several good hours he could spend searching. "Ok." He replied anyway. He turned and, with his parents watching hi, fled the room.
The dirt and trash strewn streets of the Brooklyn slums had not changed much in the last hundred or so years. The only difference was the now many crumbling and abandoned buildings that had been turning up more and more as of late. Holm stood in the middle of the street, his back pack slung over his shoulder. One hand gripped the strap of his bag and the other held the paper with Magnus Bane's address on it, which he was currently standing in front of. Or what was left of it, anyway.
It was clear no one was living in it now. The old apartment complex was completely gutted and it looked as though the roof had caved in a long, long time ago. Holm huffed angrily and stepped towards the house, his feet splashing water from the wet street. It was cold. The bottoms of his jeans were soaked. And the whole place was trash strewn. Not a very good first impression of the mundane world. He could not see how people lived in the place.
Stepping carefully up the steps of what used to be the apartment building, he pushed aside the rotting wood door and stepped carefully over fallen bricks and debris. Water dripped from bricks and crevices in the walls down onto his head. He clapped a hand over his fine blond curls and looked up. It was dark and there was no moon, but there was enough light from the streets to be able to see. Clouds covered the sky, explaining why everything was wet, and the combined sounds of dripping water and scurrying rats was an eerie sound. He stood at the doorway and looked around what must have once been a large living room. The appeared to be a bar against one wall and several sets of couches and sofas with coffee tables dotted the room. Holm thought the place must have once been used for partying. What was left of the stairs could still be seen, but there were no other floors but the ground floor now.
He stepped over the remains of a chair and crossed the room, glass and rock crunching under his feet, to the bar. The counter was covered in paper, glass, rain, and rubble. Carefully he swept clean one small section of the bar and put his hands on it. He leaned over and peered over, trying to find anything that had any sort of connection with Magnus Bane. If he could find something of his, he could use a tracking spell. Hands placed stably on the counter of the bar, he leapt over it with ease and landed with a disturbing crunch sound on the other end as rubble crumbled underfoot. The back of the bar was covered in broken glass from the wall behind, where he assumed must have held drinks and glasses.
His eyes scanned the ruins of the apartment building with dismay. There didn't seem to be anything of use, only broken glass, brick, and old rotting furniture. He kicked aside a broken bottle of wine and sighed angrily, running a hand through his damp hair. He jumped back over the bar and proceeded to wander around the room, kicking aside objects, and scanning the area carefully for anything that might be of use.
"Hey kid!" A voice spoke suddenly. Holm whipped around and spotted, through a huge hole in the wall where a window must have once been, at an old man pushing along a shopping cart full of random objects. He waved a cane, which had previously been lying across the shopping cart, at him. "Whaddya think yer doin there?"
"None of your business, old man." Holm replied angrily, his hand in his pockets.
"'Spose it aint." The old man shrugged. "No one been livin there for a good thirty years. The last guy moved away when I was still a young man."
Holm briefly wondered what his definition of a young man was. "Do you remember who lived here last? What was his name?"
"Ah, hell'f I know. I just remember he was a queer fella. Literally. And he looked funny as he acted. Blue streaks in his hair," The old man stated, gesturing wildly towards his own head. "And eyes like such a light brown, youda though' they were yella."
Bingo. He wasn't sure at all about the hair, but the fact that the old man suggested the last man to live in the crumbling apartment had had strange eyes and was gay pointed towards Magnus Bane. Holm vaguely remembered the first entry of Clary's diary he had read, and recalled her mentioning Magnus trying to convince some Alec person to move in with him, Alec being a boy's name.
"Was his name Magnus?"
"Ah, hell'f I know." The old man repeated. "It was thirty years ago."
"Do you know where he is now?"
"Ah, shit, someplace in the suburbs, I think." The old man grumbled. "Hell'f—"
"Yeah, yeah, hell if you know." Holm finished impatiently. "Somewhere in the suburbs" didn't get him anywhere. He was about to turn away when his eyes narrowed and he glared at the old man suspiciously. "How do you know all this, old man?"
"Don't you look at me like that, you little shit." The old man waved his cane at Holm, his shopping cart rattling. Holm felt his anger flare. "I been livin in this here neighborhood since I was a boy. I know."
"Why can't you tell me where the guy who lived here went, then?" Holm snapped back angrily.
"Ah, hell, I don't remember the details!" The old man grumbled. "Mmm… Midwood. I think it was Midwood."
"Are you sure?" Holm asked suspiciously.
"Ah, hell'f I know."
"Ok, ok!" Holm shouted and sighed with frustration. Midwood. That still didn't help much.
"Ah, hurry and get yer blond ass outta here." The old man spat and shuffled away.
Holm turned and went back inside. Midwood was a start, but he wasn't completely sure he could trust what the old man had said. He didn't think the man had been lying, but Holm wasn't sure he had been exactly right in the head. A breeze picked up and blew through the crumbling walls of the old apartment building, fluttering papers around the room, and Holm caught sight of something he hadn't before.
In a couch, stuffed between two rotting, moldy cushions, was a book. Holm raised an eyebrow and walked over. It was stuffed tightly into the cushions, he discovered as he carefully pulled it out. Meaning someone must have put it here, he thought. It was just a plain old book about agriculture, he found to his disappointment, but as he was flipping through the soggy, blurred pages, a paper stuffed within the book caught his attention. He plucked it out and looked at it. Even after thirty years, it was still readable, though blurred and damp, having been protected by the pages of the book. It looked to be an advertisement for cooking products, but scribbled in a messy, slanted handwriting was some address in Midwood.
Holm smiled a little. "Gotcha, you little monster." He said to himself, tucking the paper into his pocket and turning away.
The address, he found, led him to an old suburban home on the outskirts of Midwood. It was a plain old cookie cutter house and the exact look alike of all the other houses, except it was much less well kept. The difference was the numbers printed on the mailboxes, and what a difference it made.
Holm glanced down at the paper he had discovered in the old crumbling apartment building. The numbers were slanted and the handwriting was messy, so he had had some trouble reading it at first, but it was true. The numbers there were the same as the ones on the mailbox. He prayed silently as he walked up to the door that Magnus had either lived here before or still did.
He gulped in a breath, raised his fist, and banged loudly on the door.
There was a moment of silence and Holm banged again. Suddenly, he heard movement and an annoyed, angry, male voice shouted through the door, "Go away! For god sakes, it's two in the morning!"
"I'm looking for Magnus Bane!" Holm backed up from the door a step and shouted through.
The door swung open abruptly and a man stood in the door. He was tall and thin, with black hair that had blue streaks running through and big yellow eyes with the pupils of a cat. "I'm retired." He snapped angrily. "I'm not doing any more work. I don't care if you've got some horrible disease, or you need a portal, or your stupid friend got his head stuck up some magical tube or chopped off his hand with a steele, Shadowhunter. Go away!" The door abruptly slammed in Holm's face.
Furious, Holm banged on the door again. "I don't have a horrible disease, I don't need a portal, and none of my friends are stupid!" Holm shouted back through the door. "I'm here to ask about Clary!!"
There was abrupt silence. Magnus sounded as if he had frozen. A moment later, the front door swung quietly open and Magnus stood there, his arms crossed, an angry but curious expression on his face. "How do you know about Clary?"
"This." Holm swung his back pack around and dug out Clary's diary from within. He shoved it at Magnus who took it with a shocked expression. "It's her diary. I found it in my attic."
"Your attic?" Magnus repeated skeptically, turning the diary over with a cautious expression and holding it out, away from him as if he were afraid it would explode.
"Yeah." Holm said. "I'm her great-great-grandson."
Magnus's head snapped around and he looked at Holm with a serious expression. As Magnus got his first good look at him, his strange eyes widened and then he groaned. "God, you look exactly like him!"
Holm crossed his arms. "I'm assuming you're talking about Jace."
"You act like him too, though not nearly as charming." Magnus grumbled and said the last word with great sarcasm. "So, what about Clary?" Magnus prompted. "She's been dead for over forty years. No one even remembers her anymore. Why come asking now?"
"Because I just found her diary now. Well not now, but about a week and a half ago. I sent you a message days ago but you never replied so I came to find you." Holm replied bitterly.
"The message from Magdalena?" Magnus inquired, an eyebrow raised. "I don't open and especially I don't answer messages from the Council anymore. They always ask me to do something for them. I'm retired." He repeated with furrowed eyebrows.
"Well, that message was about me." Holm snapped. "I was looking for someone close to Clary personally that I could ask questions, and Councilwoman Magdalena referred me to you."
Magnus's eyebrows raised and he turned his head and grumbled something Holm thought had to do with a "Simon" to himself. Then he turned back. "We were good friends throughout her life but I wasn't that close to her." Magnus informed. He contemplated for a second. "Come back tomorrow." He said suddenly.
"What?!" Holm asked, outraged.
"Come back tomorrow." Magnus repeated snappily. "And I'll answer any questions you have."
"Why not now?"
"Because it's two o' clock in the morning, that's why!" Magnus snapped. "And I have some things I need to consider first."
Holm fumed for a second. "How do I know youll still be here when I get back?"
Magnus's eyes narrowed to slits and the effect was quite scary, even to Holm. A moment later, however, Magnus had taken a ring from his finger and tossed it at Holm. Holm caught it with some surprised and turned it over in his hand, peering down at it. It was a simple silver ring, with swirling runes and designs carved into it. He saw printed on the inside of the band was the words, For Magnus. Alec.
"Alec…" Holm mumbled to himself. He looked back up at Magnus who was standing with his arms crossed again, glaring. "Clary mentions him and you in her diary."
"Alec was her brother-in-law and my… boyfriend." He eventually said, apparently struggling for the right word. Holm blinked and Magnus sighed, uncrossed his arms, and rolled his eyes. "He died a little before Clary did. Just use that ring to track me if you think I've run away, which I won't. Believe it or not, I actually want to know some more about this. I'll be wanting that back." He said, pointing a manicured finger at the ring. "Guard it with your life, Shadowhunter."
Holm gripped the ring in his hand and slipped it into his pocket. "My name is Holm. Holm Lightwood."
Magnus raised an eyebrow. Holm nodded his head, turned away, and began walking down the road.
At one in the afternoon the next day, Holm was again standing in front of Magnus Bane's house. As Magnus Bane had promised, there hadn't been a need for the ring, and it was still safely in Holm's pocket, untouched since Magnus had given it to him.
After he had left Magnus's house, he had used some mundane money his mother had given him to spend the night in a motel. It was by far the worst night of his life. The bed had been lumpy, the sheets scratchy, and Holm was now thoroughly cranky. He hoped that this discussion with Magnus would lift his mood.
His knock on the door was answered immediately after. The door swung open and Magnus stood there, dressed in baggy rainbow cargos and a blue glittery shirt that matched the streaks in his hair. Holm blinked, a little shocked at the attire, but didn't have time to comment before Magnus held out his hand, his other hand on his hip. "The ring?"
Holm was lost for a moment before Magnus snapped his fingers in his face. His eyes snapped wide in realization. "Oh, here." He dug in his pocket for a moment, mumbling and held out the ring. Magnus took it and examined it carefully before eyeing Holm and then slipping it back onto his finger. He stepped back and held the door open for Holm.
"Well, come in. There's someone else I called here too."
Holm shouldered his backpack, which contained Clary's diary plus a few other things, and stepped inside the house. It was decidedly plain, a stark contrast to the very flashy clothes and appearance of Magnus. "Someone else?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.
Magnus gestured for Holm to follow him and led him down a hall. They came into what appeared to be a den of sorts. There was a small fireplace on one wall, a bar in the corner, and two plush leather couches. What part of the walls that did not hang a portrait or the latest flat screen TV, bookshelves that were stuffed to capacity with books were pushed neatly against the wall. And sitting on one of the couches, Holm saw, was someone else. He turned as Holm and Magnus entered the room and Holm saw that he was a vampire. His skin was pale and his hair was shaggy and a dark brown. His large eyes were pitch black and wide. He stood as Magnus and Holm entered and raised an eyebrow at Holm. "That's him?" He said, pointing to Holm.
Magnus nodded. "That's him."
"I am here you know." Holm snapped out.
"We know." The vampire only said, examining Holm from his spot near the couch curiously. He turned to Magnus. "You were right. He does look like Jace."
Magnus huffed as he threw himself into an arm chair. "Of course I was right."
"I am here!" Holm repeated. "Can you not talk as if I couldn't hear everything you are saying? Who's this?" He added, turning to Magnus while gesturing to the vampire.
"This," Magnus began, his expression slightly pestered as he pointed a finger lamely at the vampire. "is Simon Lewis."
Holm raised his eyebrows. "Simon, as in the Simon mentioned in Clary's diary?"
"I guess." Simon replied, shrugging. "Or I would hope so. Clary and I were friends for her entire life, ever since we were both small children. As kids we did everything together."
Holm was abruptly delighted. He turned to Magnus. "Is this why you sent me home last night?"
"I sent you home last night because it was two in the morning." Magnus snapped. He ran a hand down his face. "But yeah, it's part of the reason. And now I'm sleep deprived."
"But—" Holm suddenly realized something. His eyes snapped over to Simon, shocked. "Y-you're a vampire! How can you be out during the day?" He asked, stunned. His eyes flickered over to the sunlight pouring in through the window and Simon standing in its direct path.
"I'll explain that in a moment. Sit down for now, and let me see that diary." Simon commanded, and Holm sat in an arm chair opposite the couch Simon sat on. He dug the diary out of his back pack and handed it to Simon, who took it with wonder-filled eyes.
Simon flipped it open and read the inside cover. His eyes grew wide as he recognized the handwriting. "I don't believe it." He whispered, flipping through the pages. "It really is hers. The handwriting… I wouldn't forget it if I lived a thousand years."
"I wanted to ask some questions…" Holm began, leaning back.
"Yeah, what questions?" Simon said, lifting his gaze reluctantly from the diary.
"Like… what sort of person she was. My parents said she was famous for… something. And there was something about how she defeated Valentine."
"She did. She did defeat Valentine. But she wasn't only famous for that." Simon said, handing the dairy back. "Mostly, people knew about her because of her ability."
"Yeah… I read in an article in the Library of Alicante that she could create runes." Holm struggled to keep from scoffing at the idea. "But that's impossible."
"Not for Clary it wasn't." And Simon proceeded to tell the whole of Clary's story, up until the first diary entry Holm had read. Holm listened intently, increasingly shocked and surprised at the new information, but thoroughly pleased that finally he was aware of half of the stuff Clary spoke about in her diary and no longer had to wonder. Holm discovered that his great-great-grandmother had indeed been raised as a mundane, explaining her statements about how she was too old to begin training at the Academy. He learned of how Clary had once thought her and Jace to be siblings, but only after they had fallen in love. He learned how Magnus was connected with Clary, how Simon had become a vampire, and how Jace had been meant to die, but had been brought back by Clary's wish to Raziel. He learned that it was indeed true that she had been able to create runes, and exclaimed over the mark on Simon's forehead. He learned about Alec and Isabelle and even Sebastian. He learned everything and even hours later Simon was still speaking with Magnus putting in comments every so often. Eventually, Simon came to the point at which the diary began and explained what happened afterwards.
"After Valentine, Clary and Jace went to the Institute in Brooklyn. Alec and Isabelle's parents were running it and had volunteered to get Clary started on her training. Jace followed her, of course and life was quiet as it can be for Shadowhunters for many years. When I was a senior in college they got married and moved back to Idris. As a wedding gift, Maryse and Robert helped fund a project to build them a manor house in the country, where you apparently still live today."
"Alec moved in with me, of course, and we spent the rest of his life together." Magnus said, examining the ring on his finger with a somewhat pained expression.
"And Isabelle lived with me for a few years before she got around to physically appearing older than me. She never did marry." Simon said thoughtfully. "After Robert and Maryse died, she took up running the Brooklyn Institute and I visited her there just about every day. She was always lonely." He added sadly. "And I missed her all the time. We enjoyed each other's company." He shook his head, apparently trying to dispel any memories.
"How many kids did they have?" Holm asked, curious. He wanted to know how exactly he was descended from Clary.
"Clary and Jace? Seven." Simon said and Holm felt his eyes widen. "Imogene, Max, Lydia, Ruis and Stephen were twins, and Dani Eve was their youngest. Their first one died a day after it was born. They were cute kids. I watched them grow up, and then their children afterwards. I stopped keeping track, though, after Clary and Jace were both dead."
"When did Clary die?"
"Clary… died ten years before Jace." Simon said, his voice heavy. "I missed her every day, but Jace was hurt worse by it. I think he loved Clary even more than his children. And Jace was an amazing father. He rarely spoke after she died, though."
"What did she die of?" Holm hesitated before asking, not completely sure whether or not the question was appropriate.
"She just got sick one year and didn't get better. She was…" Simon turned to Magnus for confirmation. "Sixty… six? Sixty seven? I don't know." As Magnus shrugged, Simon turned back to Holm. "I never really kept track. When you live on forever as a sixteen year old, you don't really count the years that go by."
"Jace died ten years later, exactly on the day Clary did." Magnus put in. "They're buried on the outskirts of Alicante."
Holm sighed and leaned back in his seat. It was good to finally know at least something. He was fairly sure it wasn't everything, but he could learn as he went along. His eyes glanced at the clock and he saw it was nearly seven o clock at night and darkness had crept in outside. His eyes widened in alarm. He had to get back to Alicante as soon as possible or he wouldn't get back in time. "I have to go…" He said and took the diary from the coffee table.
Magnus glanced up in alarm. "What?"
"I promised my parents that I would be back in three days to start the new school term at Alicante." Holm explained. "It was the only thing I could get them to agree to, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to come at all."
"Your parents?" Simon inquired curiously.
"Ilex and Ailim Lightwood." Holm said.
"Ilex. I wonder which of Clary's children he is descended from." Magnus murmured to himself.
"Do you have to go?" Simon asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
Holm blinked and his face took on a confused expression. "Yeah. I wish I didn't have to." He said with complete honesty. As much as he didn't like Brooklyn, he was reluctant to leave. He wanted to know everything. If he had questions, the only people he could go to were Magnus and Simon. When he went to the Academy, he wouldn't get to chance to speak to either of them for at least six months until the term ended again.
"Maybe you don't have to." Magnus said suddenly, sitting up. Simon and Holm's eyes snapped towards him. "What about Nicolas and Trif?"
"Cromwell?" Simon asked, his eyebrows raised. "Do you think…?"
"Maybe. They're about to go away on business and they don't really want to leave Frances alone…"
"Ok." Holm cut in, holding his hands up. "What are you talking about?"
"Were talking about the Brooklyn Institute." Magnus informed. "It's run by the Cromwells now. They used to teach at the Academy. They trained their daughter Frances themselves. And, coincidentally, they are distantly connected to the Lightwoods."
"What?" Holm asked, surprised. "How?
"Clary's aunt, Amatis, married Damon Cromwell a few years after Valentine's death."
"So what about them?" Holm asked, shrugging his shoulders.
"Maybe you would consider living there and being trained there as an alternative."
…"What?"
Lolol. There is it! I know theres no diary entries in this one, but it was so long already by the time I had finished it and I couldn't find a good place to fit one in. Not to worry, though! The next chapter I'm planning to have at least two, and I'm also tossing around the idea of posting a seperate fanfiction with just entries from Clary's diary. It will be a sort of companion fanfiction for this one, if I get around to it. What do you think? Plus theres a new character I've been dying to get started on coming your way. :D Things are begining to get interessssting. Muahahahaha.
So, Holm's parent's names are revealed. I hadn't realized until writing this chapter that I had no clue what their names are, but I think they suit them well. And Simon shows up for the first time! This is the way I had imagined it since I decided to make this longer than a one-shot. I'm sorry if it's not the way most people imagine it. But this is how it happens in my head!
Reviews are better than Wendy's French fries dipped in chocolate frosty. :D YUM YUM