I want to apologize for taking forever. My laptop decided to get a bunch of viruses, and it was at "the hospital" for a week. I was forced to write on paper in my notebook, the horrid torture of hand cramps was too real for seven days straight. It took forever to transfer the chapter into a digital copy, but here you go. Enjoy (:

Chapter 2

I was too shocked to scream.

I really wanted to help, to do something and be included in the sudden commotion, but I couldn't. Everything seemed to become distant and slow. My eyes were glued to the body on the floor, my brain not fully understanding how such a familiar figure could be missing something so significant. The head with the now-blank eyes stared at me from its position on the desk. A part of me wanted to gag, but I couldn't do that either. I didn't even notice how the blood gushing from her neck spayed me, I was too distracted its red colour slowly eclipsing my vision, seeping in from the edges of the world. It was like having a head rush, except instead of the black that momentarily clouds your vision, the red-tainted state of dizziness wouldn't pass.

I felt someone brush past me, rushing toward the body, though I'm unsure why. I subconsciously knew without doubt Gennaia was beyond help. Curious, I attempted to turn my head. It was like I was in honey, the air suddenly seemed thick and restrictive. The motion was a bad idea: the red in my vision darkened to a bottomless black. I realized the colour meant only as a sense of falling came over me, and it seemed like hours before I actually hit the ground. I heard someone say my name, but it was so distorted it sounded as if I was underwater. I didn't even have time to register any pain from my fall before everything disappeared.

I was on the roof, looking down. The roof was slanted and glass, made up of multiple window panes. It reminded me of an art gallery. The light inside was warm, a welcoming yellow-orange, which contradicted the cold darkness of outside where I was. I was shaking from the cold, the only thing protecting me from the frigid air was a torn-up dress that looked like it was fairly skimpy to start with. The fact it was sopping wet from rain added to my chill, which stirred up memories of home which were quickly pushed aside.

My heart was pounding from being up so high, the height of the building finally registering. For some reason I felt like I could not risk getting caught, which increased my heart rate as a transparent surface was all that was shielding me from the people below. I felt a rushed Unseen rune burning on my arm, but something told me that would do no good. A spike of adrenaline rushed through me as I slipped on the wet, sleek surface of the roof. Desperately trying to find some way to keep myself from falling to my death, I caught a glance of my terrified self in the glass. Hair a frizzy mane, makeup running from precipitation or tears I didn't know. Even my lipstick was smeared, which I would have laughed at given any other circumstance. I looked past my reflection, ignoring the dark night sky that seemed to be pressing in on me.

I had thought the people below me were dancing, or even partying. I looked closer, and noticed the pattern of mingling began to change. People in elegant, sophisticated clothing moved from the centre of the floor, almost clumsily as if this change in formation was not planned. I drew in a breath as the design of the floor was revealed: in the midst of dark, glittering tile was a giant Star of David. It strectched across the floor, the rushed and haphazard paint job making it obvious it was not a part of the original room.

"Tara? Qu'est-ce qui arrive?"

I would have turned to find out where Jacque's voice was coming from, but the scene unfolding in front of me was far more enticing. People came out in bronze robes, the colour I recalled Shadowhunters used to "summon wicked powers". There were six of them, each carrying a lit candle which they set down on the six points of the star. What made me freeze in shock was what the next bronze-clad figures brought in. They shoved a figure forward, bringing it to its knees. Its hands were tied behind its back, and it kept its face hidden behind a dark curtain of hair. She, I realized, was covered in so much blood and bruises her original skin colour was barely decipherable, despite the fact her shredded clothing showed so much of it. A man came around to give her an order, and it was only when she looked up, a flame of strong-willed disobedience burning in her eyes that I felt my heart tear.

Mae.

I sat bolt upright, the feeling of hollowness and desperation not leaving me as it should have. I could feel my face going into an expression it only did when I was alone: sadness. I rubbed my eyes, orientating myself and confirming what had just was not true. The stark white décor of the infirmary was strangely comforting. Just a dream, I told myself.

"Tara? You need to lay back down now, okay?"

I followed the sound of the voice, to a face that was closer than I guessed it would have been. I would have jumped, though I will so disconnected from the world I simply blinked back the surprised expression on my face. "Sylynn?"

"Mae! She's up!" My teenage nurse turned and called. She had a damp cloth in her hand, and a small table set up beside my cot. I tried to take note of its contents- a stele, some herbs, a bowl of water, bandages- though I was interrupted by Mae yelling and hugging me at the same time.

"Jesus fucking Christ! Why did you have to scare us like that? We didn't know if you were going to wake..." her words were so frantic they seemed to blend together, though she slowed to a stop after noticing the confused look I was giving her. "You were out for two whole fuckin days!"

"Oh..." was all I could say with my depleting oxygen supply. Mae was tiny, and she never ususally reached my neck hugging-wise, but sitting down she was threatening to squeeze my neck so tightly I'd die after just having woken up. Sylynn saved me, laughing.

"Dude, take it easy. She just woke up and now she's already the colour of a Smurf."

Mae retracted, but stayed seated on the bed. I proceeded to ask her many questions, which I was surprised she didn't get annoyed with. Apparently everyone else was downstairs back in the library dealing with "the mess". As I slowly became more alert, mentally cringing as reality set in, I noticed the cots were messy. The crisp white bedding of six of them, not counting mine, was crumpled. Mae followed my eyes only to explain how everyone had been sleeping here. It had been a group decision, with Vesper stating the founding rule of "NO PDA". The way she told of us coming together seemed almost touching, though I'm sure the choice was mostly influenced by paranoia. Not that I was accusing anyone- Gennaia's death still posed as a threat for all of us. It could have been a failed assignation attempt on Daniel for all we knew.

Minutes later, via a lot of hobbling and attempted carries by Sylynn, I was leaning against a wall in the library. I would have melted into a chair given I felt like collapsing, however I felt if I touhed anything in this room I would be poisoned. There wasn't any evidence of what had happened in this room almost fourth eight hours ago, except for the blood stains. I pushed away the thought of my friends- family, dealing with something so horrid and toxic while I lay unconscious, weak, useless. A burden.

I came into the room only to be greeted by more hugs. It then occurred to me I was still in the clothes from the...event, and silently thanked the Angel for no one having changed me into a night gown, as protocol was no matter how weird when Gennaia was around. While everyone took their positions around the room again, the distancing between them made it clear the tension had only increased since the event. I could almost feel the weight of it pressing down on me, and was very greatful when Daniel stayed by my side, letting me lean on him so that I didn't have to support all my weight. I didn't want to speak, though it seemed as evertone was waiting for me to.

"So..." I started awkwardly, not sure how to handle the situation. It was usually my place to be joking around and lifting people's spirits, though I didn't want to tick someone off, offend someone, and worst of all, I didn't know how to turn the Head of the Instintue losing her head into a light, laughable subject. I went with a question that had been resting at the back of my mind. "Is the Consul coming?"

No one answered. Everyone was so quiet and distant; I felt like I didn't even know them. I looked around the room expectantly, and the guarded vibes coming off everyone made me want to shrink back behind Daniel. These weren't the people I knew.

Finally, Seth blew out a tiered sigh: "No Tara, the Consul isn't coming. Why the hell would we invite some power-tripped guy here to separate us since 'it's too dangerous'?!" His tone escalated with irritation as he spoke, ending on a mocking note. His arms went around Mae protectively, and I couldn't picture the two of them being apart.

I drew back at his hostility. I was ashamed to admit it, but people's tempers made me...uneasy. I was pretty defenceless, which I hated, and I had seen what happened when people as big as Seth lashed out. My old trainer got very frustrated with my lack of ability very quickly. Things like that affect you even if you don't want them to. Skylar would understand if I ever spoke of what happened, but if I brought it up I felt terrible for complaining. She had had it far worse. So now, as much as I trusted Seth, I had never seen him so wound-up. And it scared me.

However, he brought up a good point. As the thoughts rolled over in my head, I grabbed Daniel's hand to keep me rooted to this room. If the Consul found out about this, we would all be sent back to our original homes. Seth was probably the only one who could return home without fearing what waited for him. The rest of us had come here to escape our sad backstories, and found refuge with each other. All of us could not bear to leave each other. That wasn't even the worst possible outcome: by the Angel, we might suspects. The thought of being tried under the Mortal Sword gave me shivers. We would be forced to tell the truth, and even if we were deemed innocent, the pain of the Sword was unfathomable. But still- how could we handle this?

"Sorry...I just... So what's the plan?" I asked in the smallest voice possible, directing the question to Skylar. I didn't want to set anyone else off, everyone seemed so on edege and rattled.

"We can't go to the Consul, or anyone for that matter. It's too risky. We've got to try and keep this to ourselves, and have got to try and figure out who's behind it, otherwise they remain a threat to us." Right. Us. Crime investigators. Hilarious.

"Sure. So what's the progress you've made on the 'case' so far?" I asked, irritation and mockery leaking into my words, even though I hadn't intented it to sound so rude. Maybe I was far from my normal self too, and just hadn't noticed yet.

To my surprise, Vesper answered. "We've been going through some letters on the desk... You know, see if anyone would want to hurt her. Most of them are in French and we can barely read her goddamn writing, so Jacque's been going through them." I followed her gesture to a chaise placed in a dark corner of the room, where Jacques was keeping to himself so well I hadn't noticed him. The floor around him was scattered with folded, crumpled and few fully intact letters. His dark curly hair was a frizzy untamed mass on top his head, which I believed was from lack of sleep and lack of effort at being well-kept. Needless to say, he looked rather unapproachable. He did not react to the mention of his name, but I was desperate for details.

"Jacques?" I asked quietly, hoping he would elaborate further. The gaze he met my eyes with was virulent, which one would think would be dulled down by his nerdy spectacles and light eyes, but it was only empshasized. He looked so bitchy, and it was yett another time I would have laughed but couldn't.

"For your information Tara, we found out Gennaia is a more shallow, wicked skank than we thought." Woah.

"Oh?" I started, wanting more information but not wanting to press someone who seemed ready to snap. Realizing what I was asking for, he sat up and addressed me as if explaining why the last cookie was gone to a child.

"Turns out Mlle. Gennaia has been having 'meetings' in the library, while they," he gestured to the demon hunters around the room, "were out hunting and we," he gestured between the two of us, "were out. We're not sure what for, but the fact she was completely gaga over the leader of the group is pretty obvious. The more recent letters have gotten pretty demanding-"

"So we were thinking adultery," Vesper put in. I could understand her want for contribution, but now was not the time.

"Yes Vesper," Jacques said, agitation from the interruption plain in his voice. "I'm honestly not surprised. So we're trying to figure out the guy's identity, but we haven't gotten very far. There's not much to work with in these stupid letters... If someone could just find some more evidence from their meetings, we could hunt down and interrogate the bastard before casting him into the abyss-"

"Hold up. Did you guys take a look at these?" I asked, noticing more letters sticking from a drawer behind the desk. I heard Jacques stop his speel of how he wanted to rip our 'suspect' limb from limb, and I broke away from Daniel to investigate. The question faded from my lips as my eyes skipped over the words, realizing they were written in a demonic language. I knew for a fact no one in the room spoke any languages of the sort, and was fairly certain until now that Gennaia hadn't spoken any. That's not what confused me though: why write in a demon language? The people writing this could have used code or some other dying language, but had picked that of all Shadowhunters' sworn enemy.

I pulled out the fragile sheet of paper, being so cautious with it. One smudge of ink could ruin our chance at answers. I tuned out the world, trying to go to the very back of my brain and dust off a language I hadn't used in ages. One by one, my brain managed to stitch together the wrods, leaving me with a fabric that I could actually use. The sheet I was holding seemed to be an invitation. There were directions on it, and I started shuffling in the direction the foreign words directed me. I headed towards the back of the library, sqeezing through the cramped aisles fromed by tall bookcases on either side of me.

The Institute of Paris is not the huge Notre Dame cathedral as many would like to think. It is actually a quaint church hidden in a maze of streets crowded by ignorant mundane tourists. The cathedral is too crowded and frequented for our activities to be successfully concealed in glamours. Because of how small the building is and how popular the city is, most of the place was dedicated to accomadations (which includes one hell of a kitchen me and Sylynn know inside and out) and training facilities for visiting Shadowhunters. This meant the space left for the libarary wasn't much.

The room opened up near the back, with the entire South wall dedicated to windows that stretched up two floors. The building is older on the lower levels, as we've had to expand in the only direction we can over the years: up.

The instructions told me to go to the benches under the windows, then turn around and knock on a set of bookcases tunred back to back, pressed up close against each other. I dashed over, anticipation not letting me go any slower than a jog. I reached the bookcase, and without hesitation, pounded on the wood.

Nothing happened.

Well. That was horribly anti-climatic. Desperate, I called Skylar over. I was graced with not only her presence but everyone's, all rushing to where I was. They had probably mistaken the desperate hope in my voice for the excitement of a legitament discovery. Only Jacques came slowly, making it clear he did not want to move by dragging his feet the whole way.

I frantically explained the situation to Skylar, hoping her attempt would have a more productive outcome. I tripped over my own words I was talking so fast. She nodded, and knocked on the wood with her ear pressed to it.

"It's hollow," she started, the first smile of the day appearing on her face. "We just need to figure out how to break-"

"Oh, for God's sake," Seth muttered, steeping away from Mae. It seems only Daniel anticipated what came next, a warning obvious in his eyes and caught in his throat. Seth knocked down the wood- flinging himself into the paneling with a little too much force. His momentum was not stopped by the wooden barrier, as it catapulted him down a dark set of stairs. We all heard the sickening thud and a crunch, our hope and excitement instantly turning to panic.

"Seth!"