(( Disclaimer: Again, I do not own the Mortal Instruments universe or any characters indigenous to it. Those all belong to their creator, Cassandra Clare. I do own, however, the plot line, the writing itself, and any original characters I insert into the Mortal Instruments universe. I hope you guys are enjoying the pace of the story so far. Please please please review with your feelings/reactions/thoughts! Feedback is so important to me, especially in an on-going story like this. It helps me tweak things and sharpen my planning! Review review review :D ! And now, I bring you, the chapter you were *maybe* waiting for. I was, at least. xD ))

"Love of heaven makes one heavenly."
- Sir Philip Sidney

Isabelle had not waited to follow Jace. It was her nature to follow him into combat, and this was no different. The two of them were slurped up by the little drawing, and spit out onto the balcony they had seen in the sketch, except Clary was nowhere in sight. Isabelle's hand was stuck to the railing, and as she glanced over her shoulder she realized that Jace had the same problem, struggling with his own hand a few paces behind her.

"Are you okay?" She shouted at him over the shivering rain and deafening wind that beat against them while they each worked to free themselves.

"Yes, I'm fine!" Jace shouted back, his hair sticking to his face as the rain swelled. "Did you see Clary?"

Isabelle frowned, pausing. "No."

Thunder growled above them, and shortly after lightning illuminated the sky. Their hands were still stuck to the railing. Isabelle could feel the skin of her palm splitting open as she yanked on the metal. As she fought harder, her hand felt heavier. It reminded her of a mundane paper toy she'd found once at a street fair in Brooklyn, when she, Jace, and Alec had been investigating a demon disturbance. It was called a Chinese Finger Trap; the harder you fought, the tighter it squeezed itself around your finger.

Isabelle suddenly laughed. There's no way it is that easy, she thought as she furrowed her brows. The rain had dampened her long hair so it stuck to her neck, becoming somewhat of a tight plaster that ran down to her mid-back. She pushed a few hanging strands from her eyes. "Jace," she shouted over the wind. "Jace, don't struggle. Relax your hand, and then let go."

No reply came, but moments later she felt Jace beside her, both of his hands free. She closed her eyes and slowed her breaths until the hand that was attached to the railing felt very light. "Now," Jace whispered, and Isabelle lifted her hand off the railing. It separated easily.

"There's no one else on this balcony." Jace pushed his dripping hair back into a wet pile on top of his head. He cursed.

"We will find her." Isabelle was not looking at Jace when she offered him this comfort, but instead above them at the looming brick building that continued past the balcony for quite some distance. "Can you see the top of the building from here?" She regarded Jace with an unreadable expression.

Though they had been trained together, there were some things about being a female Shadowhunter that Jace could not understand. Isabelle knew instinctively that if Clary had stepped through the drawing her hand would have been attached to the railing as well. Since there were no doors connecting the balcony to inside the building, and there appeared to be no abandoned grappling hooks to indicate escaping into the forest beneath them, either Clary or Clary's kidnapper would have only had the option of going up. Clary was a small girl, and Isabelle had been in enough fights with enough ignorant demons and Downworlders to know that petite warriors were, if trapped in the right way, not warriors at all. Clary's major strength would come from her core, and if someone bound her arms to her sides most of that strength would exhaust itself against the bindings.

Isabelle made a strangled sound, disturbed by the thought too deeply. Jace cut her off, grabbing her shoulder and pointing to a spot above their heads. She followed his gaze, and noticed a tall silhouette scaling the building, moving closer to them. As it approached, Isabelle spotted the unmistakable shade of silvery hair that belonged to someone she had not expected to see this soon. The whip, coiled loyally around her arm, began to slither its way down into her palm, preparing itself.

Jace's voice cut through the rain. "Sebastian." He regarded the figure as it jumped down onto the balcony, joining them.

Both Jace and Isabelle went for their weapons. Jace wielded four tiny little daggers between each of the fingers on his right hand. He had only just begun practicing with them a few days ago (upon suggestion from Simon, that was at first meant to be a joke but then grew to some value for Jace) so it was difficult to get a clear shot in the furious wind, but he hadn't had time to bring any other weapons. He and Isabelle had simply found the sketchpad and jumped inside the drawing on it. In fact, Jace suddenly realized, Alec did not know they were gone. He dared a glance over his shoulder at Isabelle, slightly relieved to see that she'd brought her whip with her. Glinting, tucked into the back of her belt, was also her stele. They stood somewhat of a chance.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon," Jace called out to Sebastian as the taller, paler boy straightened himself and shook the rain from his eyelashes. "You're looking a little sickly. I realize I may have been the best company you've ever had. It would be hard, I imagine, to readjust to mediocre life after that." Jace drawled on, smirking a bit as he tightened his grip on the small daggers protruding from his knuckles. The night sky almost covered their metallic sheen, perhaps allowing them to be mistaken for small, pointed twigs.

Isabelle resisted the overwhelming desire to roll her eyes. This was not a situation to instigate, but after a moment she saw some value in agitating Sebastian. Primarily, it had the ability to distract him, which Isabelle hoped it was doing at that moment. She took a step towards Sebastian, considering which part of his body to hit first. Isabelle knew she would not have more than a few seconds to act.

Jace appeared to have been waiting for a response from Sebastian, for when none came he called out again. "Come on, Sebastian. Don't tell me you're not up for conversation. I know you have Clary."

The last sentence came as a surprise to Isabelle, but it did not break her concentration. It makes sense though, doesn't it? She thought to herself, allowing her eyes to survey the balcony. Sebastian, whose face had been shrouded by both the shadow from his brow bone and the midnight sky, looked up at the same words that prompted Isabelle. "I don't have Clary. I didn't even know she was here." His voice was flat.

Jace rocked forward slightly, conscious of Isabelle next to him, and waited for Sebastian to speak again. They were met with silence. Sebastian lowered his head again, once more guarding his expression from view. "Liar," Jace growled, and leapt forward with all the strength in his thighs, whipping his right hand forward and releasing the daggers one by one. They lanced into the foggy night. Sebastian disappeared from view. Jace held his breath, reaching into his pocket for the only other weapon he had with him; another small dagger, this one wide and flat.

Isabelle turned her back to touch Jace's back, her whip curled back in preparation.

The night seemed to freeze for a moment; lightning struck, and the balcony was entirely exposed. Isabelle could not see anyone. Jace's breath was the only disturbance to the otherwise tranquil feeling that gripped the air.

Another strike of lightning illuminated Sebastian's looming frame before them, his head still lowered. The pale boy's hands were in his pockets, and despite the expensive dark suit he wore, surely wilting in the rain, he seemed very disheveled.

"I don't have Clary," he spoke, and Jace detected an undertone of something he never imagined could even come from Sebastian. The boy's voice was abused, crackling like the embers of a dying fire. It was hoarse and perhaps even the slightest bit afraid.

"By the Angel," Jace lowered his hands and sighed, "what happened to you?"