Okay really though where does the time go? I used to be able to update weekly but I just can't seem to keep up with all the other stories I have going on Wattpad Dx

I'm really sorry updates are so slow, it's been a month ):

I hope you enjoy anyways, and don't forget to review whatcha think about it (:

Thanks JMDeaton for all the help as always (:

I know I could lie, but I won't lie to you
Wherever I go, you're the ghost in the room
I don't even try looking for something new
Cause wherever I go, I'll be looking for you

Some people try but they can't find the magic
Others get down on their knees and they pray
I come alive when I'm close to the madness
No easy love could ever make me feel the same
Make me feel the same
Make me feel the same, same, same

Wherever I Go, OneRepublic

Jace

These past few days at the manor have been a living hell, to say the least. With every corner I turn, I'm plagued with reminders of the girl that was ripped away from us. Her art plasters the walls of the Manor, the dark hues and heavy brushstrokes obviously her signature style. I can't get a break from the thoughts and dreadful feelings that infect my head and soul. I know that Clary's strong, and wherever she is, she's fine. But, I'm not.

Coming to terms with this feeling of helplessness has been eating me alive, but I have to accept it. I'm not alright. I'm scared out of my mind for her. I can hardly sleep or eat, although I try to force down what my body needs to keep up with the exhaustion that I'm bringing on with countless hours of research and digging.

I miss her. I miss her sarcastic responses and her excessive eye rolling. I miss the attitude that she brings with her everywhere she goes. I need that right now. I need her company and her fiery strong will.

All that I'm getting from being in this place is a watered down version of Clary, that even she probably wouldn't recognize. She's not the same person that she was when she inhabited this place, and that's part of the reason why I've stayed away from her room entirely. I don't want to disturb it.

But curiosity and that closeness that I crave is cracking away at my brittle shell, and I find myself wandering the large lonely manor on my own, my hands trailing over the bright artwork on the wall that tells me a story of a younger, more naïve who was all talk, someone who hadn't experienced the pain of loss yet. Someone bright and happy, deaf to the outside world from so long living inside the walls of this fortress that her father created.

I find myself standing in front of her door with the reasoning that a peek won't hurt anything. Maybe it'll make me feel better. Anything's better than this emptiness. I turn the cold metal knob and gently swing the door open. Light green walls greet me, tacked up pieces of paper with sketches adorning much of the space. I find myself breathing a little bit easier, as I step into the room and close the door softly behind me. It's more open, and much brighter than the rest of the house. It feels more peaceful, even with the slight mess left behind. The bed is unmade and the sheets are strewn all over, with half of the blanket on the ground. Clary's always so neat, so to see this tells me that she was comfortable here.

I walk around the room, taking in all of the different sketches on the walls, some of them looking familiar, like the garden out back, or the gleaming demon towers of Alicante. Even for quick drafts, they're beautiful. I've never been able to draw, the only fine arts skill I have is the ability to play the piano, and that's because my parents drilled it into me from a young age, before they died. I guess it always just stuck with me; it's not something I particularly enjoy or dislike.

But the way that Clary draws, with her entire heart and soul, is something to be admired. With every smudge of charcoal, or line of a pencil, comes a deeper meaning that I can't decipher; it's like she infuses her work with her soul. You can tell just by looking at any one piece of hers that she put in all of her concentration and good will into it. She's so dedicated. Just as dedicated as she is to Shadowhunting, and I have no clue how she does it. She's definitely something else.

I take a seat on her unkempt bed, and lay back, my feet still planted on the ground. I feel like a lovesick puppy being here, pining over the girl who doesn't want anything more than a platonic friendship. I can't pin down exactly what it is that makes me feel this way - like a hopeless romantic - because it seems like every single thing that this girl does, gets to me.

My mind seems to always go back to the talk that I had with Alec the other day. No matter how much I try to shake it off and tell myself that it's a stupid crush, his words appear to hold a certain weight of truth to them.

I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like all that I do is whine and complain, but with absolutely nothing to do but wait for Jonathan's friend to get back to us. So in the mean time I'm just left to stew in my thoughts. It can't be healthy for a person.

Then again, nothing about being a Shadowhunter is healthy.

A resounding knock echoes through the manor, and I jolt up, my heart pounding and my thoughts jumbled; I guess I fell asleep. I push through the vertigo as I quickly make my way out of Clary's room and into the hallway. I have a dagger in my boot, but my weapons belt is downstairs. I race through the possible options - the Clave, maybe. Or perhaps it's a stray Downworlder, looking for a possibly empty mansion to rob. Whoever it is, it's not a door-to-door salesman.

When I come down the stairs, I hear Jonathan laughing and relax a little bit. When I round the corner into the foyer, a woman not much older than Jonathan stands there smiling down at Jon warmly. She's leaned over, hugging Jon. Neither of them have noticed me, and I watch on with amusement.

"Jonathan," I hear her say, a bright happy smile on her face. "You're so big! You're not a little boy anymore, you're a man now!"

"Aunt Tess," he laughs, sounding pretty embarrassed. "Well, I may have grown up, but you haven't changed a single bit."

"Oh, stop it," the woman laughs, stepping back. Her eyes trail up and she sees me over Jonathan's head. When our eyes meet, she looks genuinely shocked, and I have to wrack my brain, because I'm positive that I've never met this woman before. Why does she look so surprised? I walk forward, my boots squeaking on the tiled floors, alerting Jonathan to my presence.

"Are you alright, Tessa?" Jonathan asks sounding genuinely concernedand turns his head, giving me a small wave.

"That's Aunt Tessa to you," the regal woman scolds him teasingly before turning to me. "I'm Tessa Gray, Jonathan's Godmother."

"Jace Lightwood," I tell her with a nod. Her eyebrows furrow and she watches me closely. Something about her heavy gaze makes me feel uncomfortable, like she's scrutinizing my every move, and I don't know why.

Jon

"So what are we doing here, boys?" Tessa asks, looking around the place. It must have been longer than I thought since she's been here.

"Well, Clary's been taken by the Clave on some very serious charges. And we haven't heard anything from anybody for nearly two weeks, and honestly, we're starting to worry," I tell her, and watch as her face falls and her eyebrows come together.

"What is she being charged with?" She asks, all traces of joking gone from her voice; she's all business, now.

"Treason," Jace tells her. "Clary has these… abilities. She can create runes that nobody has ever seen before, and she's- there's just something different about her."

"I always knew Clary was different," Tess muses. "And of course, the Clave sees that as bad. Clary's a good girl."

"Exactly. And we all know what happens to Shadowhunters who are found guilty of treason," I tell her. "So we've been digging and digging, but we can't figure out where she is. We know someone that has connections high up in the Clave, but they can't seem to find anything out either.

"I wouldn't worry about that. That Clave likes to make an example of those who cross them, or are different from them. They won't do anything without a big, public trial," Tessa scoffs. She seems pissed. "I can't believe them. They're so bigoted and corrupt."

"That's why we've been pursuing other leads," I announce, glancing at Jace. He nods in agreement.

"We want to know what motivated Valentine to do what he done. He had to have had a reason, and we found someone who worked for him, briefly. His name was Hodge Starkweather." Tessa looks a little shocked when I mention Starkweather, so I prod her. "Did you know him?"

"Not personally, no. But I knew the family, back in my days," she says, her eyes growing distant. "What did you find?"

"A load of crap, if you ask me," I scoff and roll my eyes. Jace elbows me roughly and I just shrug.

"He said something about a prophecy, but it had questionable sources," Jace informs her, and continues on to explain it to Tessa. She listens diligently, taking in the information and nodding.

"You want me to find this prophecy?" She asks and chews on her lip, nervously.

"You're the only person we know with access to the Spiral Labyrinth," I say, hoping that she'll agree. She nods and sighs deeply.

"I could try. But you don't understand how big the place is. It's never ending, and the filing system sucks," she tells us skeptically. "But, I'll try."

"Maybe you could create a Google for Warlocks," I grin, knowing that she'll have no clue what that is. She's been around for over a century, but she's still quite a bit behind technologically.

"Whatever that is," she rolls her eyes, and playfully smacks my arm before straightening up and hushing us when we try to ask what's going on. "Someone's trying to portal onto the property."

Tessa

The boys immediately jump into action, and I quickly grab both of them by the arms and push them behind me as I make my way to the window. Blue sparks are crackling at the end of the pathway leading up to the house, and I smile at the familiarity.

"It's alright," I tell them, urging them to sit down. "It's Magnus Bane. I'm sure you know of him."

"He's dating my parabatai," Jace murmurs, watching as a beautiful woman with long black hair and dark, smoldering eyes steps through the portal. She's a spitting image of Maryse Lightwood, from what I can tell from here.

"What are they doing here?" Jonathan mutters under his breath, but smiles when the girl walking up the path waves at us through the window. I know that smile. That's the sort of smile you give someone that has you completely wrapped around their little finger. I've seen it before.

"Who's the pretty young lady?" I ask him knowingly. He rolls his eyes up at me, pleading me not to go there. "I know you, boy. Don't try hiding it."

A boy that looks like he could be the girls twin is standing near the portal, glancing around, scanning the area. Then, in an overly dramatic flourish, Magnus Bane steps through the portal. With the snap of his fingers it's gone and he's taking the other boy by the hand, dragging him up the pathway.

Jace and Jonathan are gone, presumably to open the door, so I slowly make my way to the foyer, giving them their own time to greet their friends. When I turn the corner I'm thrown into shock for the second time today. A pair of crystalline blue eyes stare at me and I feel like I've been taken completely back, to a time where a similar pair of eyes gazed on me with annoyance, and later adoration. And with the dark hair and the high cheekbones, I have to quickly compose myself so that I don't make a fool of myself.

"Tessa!" A booming voice calls, and pushes through the gathering in the foyer to envelop me in a delicate hug.

"Hello, Magnus," I laugh and hug him back, tightly.

"You okay, darling? You look like you've seen a ghost," he cackles quietly at his own joke.

"Have you seen your boyfriend? He looks just like him," I whisper as he pulls away.

"Alas, these Lightwood's get it from Cecily," he grins and pats me on the cheek.

"What are you two going on about?" The girl asks, looking between the two of us.

"My apologies. I'm Tessa Gray," I greet them. "Jonathan's Godmother."

"I'm Isabelle Lightwood, and this is my brother Alec. I guess you already know Magnus," Isabelle says, trailing off awkwardly.

"How about we all go sit down in the living room?" Jonathan suggests, and I can hear Jace asking his parabatai what they're doing here.

"I'll make some tea while you guys catch up," I smile and step into the kitchen, making myself busy. I can hear their chattering through the open archway, and smile when I hear mentions of journals. I remember when I used to keep a journal as a child, back in New York. It sort of stopped when I moved to London, however.

"Hey, do you need any help?" I jump a little, and turn to find Isabelle standing there with raised eyebrows.

"Don't let her cook anything!" Jace yells, and I laugh a little.

"If you could find some sugar, sure." I tell her as the kettle begins to steam. She nods and begins to look through the cabinets as I set the tea to steep.

"Do you know if Jocelyn kept a journal?" She asks suddenly. I glance over and watch her as she rummages around. "From what Jon has said, you two were close."

"That we were. I knew she kept one when she was younger. I don't know about after she married Valentine," I tell the young girl as she sets a canister of sugar on the counter. "Why?"

"I've found that personal records are an awesome insight into people's minds," she tells me with a small grin. "Do you know where she might have kept them?"

"I'm not sure, but I can take a look around, if you'd like," I tell her and set the mugs on an old wooden tray that I found.

"That would be great," she chirps and pours some sugar into a small bowl before handing it to me. "Thank you."

I carry the tray out with the younger gal following behind me. Once I set the tray down, she goes about making a cup with lots of sugar and handing it to Jonathan. He thanks her and blows on the hot liquid before trying it and smiling widely at her. I watch the small exchange with a little grin of my own. Isabelle is still crouched in front of him, and they chat idly, her hand resting on his knee. It's cute the way that she bats her long eyelashes at him, and how he leans forward to speak.

I turn my attention back towards Magnus and Alec, who are cuddled up on the love seat across from me. Magnus' yellow cat eyes sparkle as Alec speaks to him, before bursting out in a grandiose laugh. He's so over-the-top, even now. It's refreshing to see that some things don't change, but it also saddens me to see just how much I've missed out on. Jonathan is a grown man now, and Clary is nearly there as well.

It makes me wonder what else I've missed out on in my absence. Time just seems to slip away. It's something that I've developed a deep, personal relationship with. I know how to make it go by quicker, and how to be patient. I can keep busy with study and research, and no rest in between. That's what I've been doing the past few years, trying to find answers. Answers for him.

But in that time that I've been under the radar, throwing my heart and soul into research, I've missed so much that I should have been present for. I should have been there for Clary when the Clave sent her out on her own. I should have been there when Valentine tried to kill Clary, when Jonathan was injured.

One sure thing that I've learned throughout the years is that the past is in the past, and that it does not do to dwell on that. It can't be changed, and we have to live with the choices that we've made and learn to find the good in every single shadow. You never know when something good may come about and change it all; that's what I've learned through my many years ofexperience, anyways. You can't fight it, and you can't escape it. You can only embrace it and keep moving forward.

I find myself rummaging the house that I used to visit so often, searching for Jocelyn's old journals, and anything else that could help give an insight to Jocelyn and Valentine's life - the private parts that I did not witness.

She changed a lot after she married Valentine, and I'm not so sure it was for the better. She wasn't the same bold flame-haired Shadowhunter that I met when she was younger. As time passed she became much more reserved, and quiet. Not at all like the girl I remembered, but even after her betrothal, we stayed in contact. I helped her through both pregnancies and stood in as her midwife, even when Valentine insisted on someone else. He insisted that she had someone more qualified, in case something was to happen or go wrong. Truth be known, I honestly don't think he ever particularly liked me, but more or less tolerated me, if only for Jocelyn's sake. It was a surprise when he allowed me to be the kids' Godmother, but since it was a Mundane tradition and not a Shadowhunter one, I don't think he really cared.

It all stopped sometime after Clary's 12th birthday. Valentine thought that I came around too often, and that I was trying to intrude on their lives. That was not the case, but Valentine saw me as a threat either way. I should have noticed the onset of his paranoia. But, I didn't. I didn't even care enough to pay that sort of attention to the man my best friend married - if he didn't make the effort to get to know me, why would I get to know him?

For that, I'll never forgive myself. I can't do anything about that, but I can try to help the kids. And if what they need right now is for me to help him scour this house for anything that could help them better understand Valentine, then I'll do just that; starting with Jocelyn's journals. I know she used to write in hers every day before she married, and I just pray that she kept up the habit afterwards.

I take my time in her bedroom, checking underneath the bed and in between the mattress, even in her closet, but all I find are shoeboxes filled with… well, shoes. Nothing exciting. I'm covered in the dust that has settled over the home in the past few years, and I feel a sneeze coming on. I'm making my way out of the small confined closet so that I don't upset even more dust when the toe of my boots snag and I stumble out. The sheer surprise knocks the sneeze right out of me and I quickly catch myself and crouch down, inspecting the floor.

One of the panels of the wooden flooring is just slightly raised so that it's not flush with the others, and I press down on it. It creaks and when I knock on it, I grin widely. It's hollow. I try to use my fingers to pry it up, but it's no use with my short, brittle nails. I carefully take the dagger that I keep with me at all times, out of my boot and gently use it to pry open the flooring.

I don't see anything in the dark opening in the floor, and I would be lying if I told myself that I wasn't wary to stick my hand in and feel around in the insulation. With the tip of the knife, I move around the fluff. I don't find anything right away. I lean in closer and reach farther back, pushing the fluff to the side.

My heart stutters and then continues to pound against my sternum when I see a patch of brown leather. I dig my hand in and snatch it out quickly, when I feel something tickling my hand. If there's one thing I'm still afraid of after all these years, it's spiders. I sit back and turn the brown book over in my hands. I flip it open to the first page, smiling at the dates on them. These are from when she was younger, when she was the age that I'm forever stuck at. I kneel down and snap my fingers, producing a small flame of light in my palm, lighting the hole in the boards. I reach and pull out a couple more that look similar to the original before skimming through them.

They all date back farther- as far back as before she even started dating Valentine, which is much farther than I need, but it's a start. I return the board to its place and gently settle the dagger back into my boot. With the dusty old journals in arm, I make my way back downstairs, happy to have found what I need so that I can make my appointment on time.

"It has been too long." His voice invades my mind, only for a second. His quietness doesn't startle me anymore; it's almost like he appears out of thin air sometimes.

"It's only been a year," I smile softly. "That was our agreement."

"Time is fleeting."

"That it is," I sigh and turn to face him. Even now, with Marks marring his gaunt face and his eyes and lips sealed shut - bar the classic stitching - he's beautiful. "I'm sorry I've been so absent."

"It is a useless battle, Theresa." His presence is harsh and sure in my mind. I flinch at the use of my full Christian name. I haven't heard anybody call me Theresa in decades.

I shake my head and let a dry laugh pass my lips. "Is that really me though, Jem? You can't expect me to give up."

"Do not waste your time." Although I cannot hear his voice, I can feel the plea in my mind.

"It will never be a waste of my time. You're not a waste of my time," I press, clenching my hands into fists on the bench underneath us. People walk all around us, unseeing, unhearing. Time may have changed the bridge so much, but people remain blind. I am not blind to the way that he always seems to distance himself with each passing year we meet.

"Your tenacity has not changed," he tells me, and his words feel softer. Almost like a compliment. I jump a bit when I feel his hand brush against mine. He leaves his marred hand there, our pinkies barely brushing together.

"Nor will it ever," I murmur, wishing that I could pull him closer to me. Wishing that he could settle the fire in my stomach. Always wishing. Always knowing that it won't happen.

"What is troubling you?" He asks after a few moments of silence. He could just push a little farther and see it all, but he never does. He would never invade me like that.

"My Goddaughter,she is in need of help and I have no clue what to do," I sigh. "The Clave is still not fond of those who are different. They won't even tell us where she is."

"What has she done?"

"She killed a monster. She saved people's lives. She's done nothing wrong," I tell him, my voice tight with annoyance. Even now, after all this time, the Clave is filled with a bunch of judgmental old cucks. "I just don't get why. She should be revered as a hero for taking out her father. He was so malicious."

"Father?" He asks me, sounding almost shocked. "What is the girls name?"

"Clary. Clarissa Morgenstern," I clarify, watching his never moving face. He's impossible to read, but the shock in his voice shocks me.

"I know where she is."

"Are you serious? Of course you're serious, you never kid. I could kiss you right now, Jem!" I nearly cry with a huge smile on my face, my heart lifting with hope, and my hand grasping onto his. She's okay. She's got to be. or She's got to be if Jem knows where she is, right?

"If only the circumstances were different, Tess." It feels like a sigh, but I swear that I see the slightest twitch of his lips upwards.

If only.