A/N: Hey! Wow this is super weird... started this ages ago! Thought I'd pick it up again though. Read City of Lost Souls and it got me in such a crazy writing mood... Jace just reminds me of Jakey-kins :P Anyway, here's the next chapter-enjoy! :) Short but I wanted to get this up... Review please! Note: Reviews may or may not result in the reward of a brownie.


"So, how long are you grounded?" Ash asked, fork raised. She had a fruit bowl in front of her while I was making my way through a double-decker grilled cheese. That was another perk to having the house to myself-the elves made me whatever the shit I wanted, whenever I wanted.

"I'm not actually sure," I replied thoughtfully. I took a large bite of my sandwich and set my elbows down on the table-another thing I couldn't do should my parents be home. "He kind of just told me to stay in my room."

She nodded slowly and lifted a piece of strawberry to her mouth. Silence followed for a few moments.

"So, um, you'll call me the second I can see you again, right?" her voice was so innocently concerned that I actually smiled, nodding afterward.

"Yeah, I'll come over as soon as I can, promise."


A week had passed since I saw Ashley's face, and I found myself constantly thinking about how much I missed it. It was weird doing absolutely nothing all day-I usually had training, and if not I used the rare opportunity to spend my morning with Katie and my girlfriend. I figured my father needed time to get over the treacherous crime I'd committed, to let his anger subside so he wouldn't 'accidentally' slice my arm off next time we tried sword training.

Either that, or he thought due to some weird chemical imbalance in my brain I actually enjoyed training and was using this lack-thereof as a punishment.

Well, given my ridiculous behavior last week I wouldn't exactly blame him if he did.

Whichever it was, Father had clearly decided the reason was no longer applicable because I was told at dinner that training would resume. Tomorrow. At 6AM sharp. I wasn't sure if I was happy to be given something to do other than staring at my wall or if I was dreading the morning with a passionate feeling of hate. Most probably the latter.

My guess was confirmed when 5:50 AM came much too soon. With a groan I pulled myself from bed and dragged my legs into cold marble bathroom, the floor sending a frosty numbness into the souls of my feet. I almost didn't realize how amazingly lucky the past week had been, getting to sleep in until eight. Sparking my Father's temper had almost been worth it.

I tiredly rubbed at my eyes and proceeded with my morning routine: you know, a piss, brushing my teeth, shaving. Then changing into loose fitting sweat pants, a plain white t-shirt, and proper running shoes of course. Once that was taken care of, I proceeding to make my way down stairs and to my father's study.

The large double doors were impressive dark wood, tall and broad, looming over me as if to remind me that just when I'd been enjoying my break, dreadful mornings were soon to follow. And all I had to do was step through the doors to start them. Bloody hell. After taking a deep breath (it was needed, for I had a feeling the next few hours weren't going to be just a jog to pick flowers), I knocked.

It'd become a rule years ago to check in with him before I left in the morning, due to that one time I may or may not have been sleeping in when he assumed I was outside running.

"Enter." I heard him respond. His voice was still lined with that extra roughness morning brought.

I did so calmly, erasing any emotion I may have had on my face. Regardless of what may had happened, I knew I was expected to go back to the way I'd been previous to my little stunt-I'd had enough years of lessons to know that.

"Good morning, Sir." I said, tone flat.

Father was up and working as he was every morning, and he barely even lifted his head to acknowledge my presence. Finally, after a few long seconds of him scribbling something down he muttered, "You're wasting my time boy, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothing. Sorry." I added Sir as an afterthought, and retreating from the room I shut the door behind me. Bloody bastard.

I stepped outside the manor into the cool air, it's crispness quickly fading with the rising run. The sky was streaked with oranges and yellows, sharp lines against the pale blue. I'd admit, it was pretty. But I think I would have chosen sleeping in over watching it.

Sucking in the frigid breeze I took off running, around the side of the house and into the familiar forest path I knew all too well. It was true this was part of training, something I swore bugged me to no end, but there was something about running I actually enjoyed. It may have been lame, but it cleared my head. And as that was impossibly hard to do, I was grateful.


I ducked the next spell, too tired to block it. The sparks flew past my head, and within seconds two more jets of light followed. I just ducked and backed away, stumbling further until my back hit a stone wall. I was exhausted, beaten down, and my brain was much too worn right now to properly send curses back.

His wand suddenly shoved hard into my throat, making me wince.

"You're pathetic." My father muttered with a heavy voice, lowering his wand. I leaned my head back in relief, sweaty and painting.

"I'm tired. We've been at it for over an hour." I knew it was a shitty excuse-but hey, it was true. He gave me a look as if to confirm just how pathetic that excuse was, but pocketed his wand regardless. Muttering "finally" I did the same.

"Go shower and dress. And in proper robes Jacob. I want you in the living room in 20 minutes."

Proper robes? "May I ask for what?" I kept my distance-he was letting things slip, ending training early. I wanted to make sure he didn't suddenly lose his temper on me.

"No." Father said firmly, ending the conversation. "Get upstairs-now."

I did as he said and moved past him, rolling my eyes once I had. Stupid prick. I took the steps two at a time up to my room then straight into the bathroom. He'd better not be making me get dressed just so he could lecture me on how bad my dueling skills were. I'd have a bloody fit.

After stripping, showering, dressing, and reluctantly going back down stairs, I sat myself down on my mother's expensive couch. My father was already waiting there for me, leaning back into the couch opposite me. He wore the same silently stern expression he always did, as if he may have been contemplating a business deal, but this time it was joined with an unsettling calmness. And not his angry type of calmness, a comfortable type of calmness.

What the hell was he going to tell me?


A/N: Do youuu likeee it? Do you want more? Well I can't possibly know if you don't tell me, Gosh :P

Hot-Girl-Problems to follow. (But not the type you're thinking of.) (No trust me. You're not.)