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Here is Chapter 16:

The morning was a hot one, even for August. The sun bore down on Clary's back and the humid air clung to her like a wet rag as she and Isabelle walked the sidewalks of Manhattan side by side, outfitted in fighting gear and sufficiently armed, which didn't help with the temperature at all. They were patrolling, as had become a normal activity for the New York Shadowhunters as of late, searching the city for demons or anything out of the ordinary-anything that would signal something was about to happen. So far, it was turning out to be an uneventful morning, for which, Clary was grateful. With the increased demonic activity over the past few weeks, it wasn't unusual for there to be more than one demon encounter per patrol, and killing demons, it turned out, took a lot out of someone when they had to do it multiple times a day, every day. Stamina runes helped in the physical sense, but there was no help for mental exhaustion.

"Okay," Isabelle said after a minute of quiet, a complaint in her tone, "It was definitely not this hot last year." She flipped her long, braided hair off her shoulder and away from her neck in disgust. Clary was glad to know she wasn't the only one sweltering, and was gratified to see that Isabelle, who was always beautiful and put together and perfect, was also clearly sweating and overheated.

"Maybe it was. My shorts and T-shirt ensembles of last summer were slightly cooler than all this though." She gestured to herself, "So I wouldn't know, I guess."

"That's true. You weren't one of us yet," Izzy replied, sounding taken aback, "It feels like you've just always been here."

"Thanks."

"It's got to have been almost a year by now though, right? You definitely came before the fall."

"It's been a year," Clary answered, "Exactly a year, actually. Today." She'd noticed that when she'd woken up that morning and her phone had told her the date. She didn't know why, but the date she'd first woken up in the Institute after the Ravener attack had always stuck with her, the day she'd found out what she really was and everything had been put into motion. A date that, that morning, had been one year ago precisely.

Isabelle let out a little gasp in surprise. "Really? Why didn't you say so? We should celebrate!" Clary didn't want to burst her bubble, but she didn't really think now was a great time to be celebrating anything, not with everything hanging over their heads the way it was and the distinct probability of Magnus' death growing nearer and nearer with each passing day.

It had been two days since Magnus had first woken up and explained his plan to everyone, the one which involved him sacrificing himself, possibly for good, for the rest of them. It broke her heart to think about it. The warlock had grown to be practically one of them over the past year. Clary loved him like she loved the Lightwoods. Magnus, with all his sparkle and color couldn't die. He just couldn't.

Despite the horror and tragedy inevitably waiting for them, having some kind of plan to go off of had still put the rest of them into action. Even an awful plan was better than no plan at all. Jace and Alec, the latter of which, Clary thought, seemed to be holding up very well, considering everything he had at stake, had determined that, based on everything that had already happened, the most likely possibility for Asmodeus' final strike would be with demon hordes. As if that was anything new for them. If things went the way they thought, and Magnus agreed it would, Asmodeus would bring up the rear, like the coward he was, prepared to give the deathblows, but do none of the actual fighting himself. Assuming the Shadowhunters could make it through the mass of demons, Magnus' plan would then come into play. With their leader gone and no longer giving orders or strength, the remaining lesser demons in the army would be confused and weak-easy targets. And then it would all be over, Magnus would most likely be gone, and peace would be restored. Yipee.

The end result was all Clary could think about and no, she didn't really want to celebrate it.

As it turned out though, she didn't have to tell that to Izzy just yet, because a Shax demon appeared ahead of them, seemingly out of nowhere. It hadn't seen them yet, though it was only a matter of time, and Clary, despite her utter contempt at the thought of fighting another demon, knew they had no other choice.

"As great as that sounds, Izzy, I think we've got bigger problems at the moment." She nodded toward the demon, already unsheathing a misericord blade-a better fit for fighting Shax demons than Heosphoros or even Seraph blades. Isabelle followed her gaze and made a face, clearly no more infatuated with fighting right then than Clary was.

No one really was anymore at this point, except Jace, who was always up for a fight, and maybe Simon, who had only just started and hadn't had time for demon fighting to lose its luster yet. Currently, all the rest of them really wanted was a break.

Izzy uncurled her whip from around her wrist and looked at Clary. "Ready?" she asked unenthusuastically.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Clary answered, and together, they turned and ran together toward the demon, weapons drawn.

They caught the Shax demon by surprise. Izzy lashed out at it with her whip and caught its leg, pulling it, unprepared, off balance. Clary got in a shot, though it wasn't fatal. Izzy, with another flick of her wrist, caught the thing on its torso, opening a deep gash, which spewed black liquid. Clary ran one way around it while Izzy went the other, and after only a minute, Clary found a wide enough opening in its armor and went in for the kill. The girls watched as the demon folded in on itself and vanished.

Taken out in two minutes flat. All the demons they'd fought lately had done one good thing for them, at least. The two of them, together, had become nothing if not efficient.

Simon stood in the center of the training room, facing the target painted on the side wall, a knife in his hand, two more on the floor next to him, three others scattered on the floor around the target while only one actually stuck shallowly, point first, into it, in the circle farthest from the center bull's-eye, all of which, he'd already retrieved multiple times. He readied himself to throw yet another one, both his patience and the handful of knives he'd grabbed for the exercise, dwindling.

He'd learned many techniques and moves in many different fighting and weapons styles within his short time as a Shadowhunter. Some, he'd excelled at, archery, for instance, and long-staff. Most, he'd been mediocre at best with, but was steadily growing better and better with experience, like swordplay, hand-to-hand combat, and commas (which were actually really fun). Knife throwing, though, had been something of a problem for him since the beginning. He could hold his own fairly well with one in close quarter fighting, but when it came to throwing at-and hitting-a target, to put it bluntly, he sucked. Epically.

He stepped forward, putting his whole body into the throw the way Jace had instructed him to, and the knife left his hand. He actually hit the target (most of his tries found their mark on the wall next to, below, or above it), far to the left, point first, but rather than sticking in, the blade bounced off and toppled to the ground with the others.

"Urughhh!" Simon's sound of frustration carried through the large room, with no one there to hear it. Or so he thought.

"Want some help?" The voice came from behind him. He whirled around, surprised, and slightly embarrassed, to find Alec standing in the doorway, watching him, clad in training gear, as Simon was.

It took him a second to get over his surprise and find his voice. Simon hadn't seen Alec since the discussion in the library with Magnus two days earlier. And he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd actually spoken to him. "What?"

"Do you want some help?" Alec repeated slowly. "You look like you could use some."

"I… Sure?" Simon didn't really want help. He didn't want to need help. But he couldn't deny that he desperately did need it if he was going to do this right. He'd never had Alec for an instructor, but he knew, beyond a doubt, he would suffer far less mocking from him than he would from Jace. It was his best option, really.

Alec crossed the room. Simon watched him as he did so, trying to figure out what seemed different about him. Obviously he was devastated about Magnus' chances in all of this, far more than the rest of them, but there was something else there too, and that something was clearly what kept him going in spite of all of it. Simon couldn't be sure, but he thought, under Alec's ever-present mask of perfect, emotionless calm, he could detect the smallest bit of… hope? For what, though, he wasn't sure.

Alec came to stand beside Simon, and bent to retrieve the remaining knife off the floor by their feet. He held it in his right hand. "When you throw a knife, you have to make sure you put your whole body into it, rather than just your arm, so you get the most power. Jace told you that, I'm sure." Simon nodded confirmation. "It looks like this." Alec lifted the knife in demonstration, going through the motion of throwing without actually letting it go. Simon watched. He looked to be doing the same thing he was, or was trying to, anyway. Alec held the blade out to him then. "Now you try. Just like that. Do it as if you were going to throw it, but don't."

Simon did as he said, going through the motions. "Like this?"

Alec nodded, and then stepped forward. "Here. Stop. Here's your problem." He pushed Simon's elbow in so it pointed toward the floor, rather than out, which it had been. Simon hadn't known he'd been doing it like that. "Your arm should almost form a right angle when you throw. Having your elbow out like that throws off your aim." Alec adjusted his arm a little more. "There. Try now."

Simon went through the motion of throwing a knife again, paying particular attention to his form. Alec nodded. "Good. Now actually throw it. See what happens."

Simon glanced at him before resetting his position and training his eyes on the target. "Here goes nothing," he said and threw it, keeping his elbow in. The knife left his hand and flew toward the target, where it embedded itself about halfway to the hilt in the second ring from the center. His best shot yet, by far. Simon blinked and stared.

Beside him, Alec smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Told you."

"That's incredible."

"It's all about technique," Alec said as he crossed the room to retrieve the fallen knives, while Simon followed and pulled the two from the target that had stuck, including the one he'd thrown earlier, which was barley hanging on when he got to it. The two of them retreated back to where they'd stood before. "Try to get the bull's-eye now," Alec instructed, and stood, holding the extra blades and watching while Simon threw first one, then the other in his hand. They didn't hit the bull's-eye, but they grew progressively closer each time. He tried again, and then again, with similar results.

The fifth try was the charm. Simon threw it and it stuck in the bull's-eye, not completely centered, but well in the center circle, regardless. "Good job," Alec said.

Simon looked at him, "You know," he said, "You're pretty good with knives."

He shrugged. "Jace is better."

"What isn't Jace better at?"

Alec thought about it for a second. "Sitting still." Simon laughed.

When he finished, he looked again at the black-haired Shadowhunter. "Hey," he said, "Thanks. For helping me. I probably could have stood here until the next ice age and still not have gotten it right otherwise."

"You're welcome."

"And, uh…" Simon hesitated, wondering if he should mention it at all, but he'd already begun. "I'm sorry. About everything. Magnus…"

"Yeah," Alec said, looking away and going rigid again.

"It sucks, man." God, why was he still talking?

"Yeah." Alec repeated, and then changed the subject. He held the knife out to him quickly, handle out. "Do it again."

Silently, Simon took the knife and obeyed. He got another bull's-eye, and then proceeded to retrieve the blades from the target and do it once more, getting four out of six in the center circle. Upon retrieving them again, Alec, who had stood silently, watching, stopped Simon before he could do it over again. "Good. Now, do it left handed." He smiled a little as he said it, and Simon couldn't help but note again that, though Alec was far from happy with everything going on, he definitely seemed to be doing really well, considering. For some reason, this made Simon feel slightly better about everything himself as he proceeded to epically fail all over again. If Alec could seem hopeful in spite of a situation like this, maybe he could too.

Clary mounted the spiral staircase slowly, taking each step at a time, her hand trailing up the railing beside her as she went. It had been ages since she'd been in the greenhouse, and she was pleasantly surprised to find her feet no longer made a racket on the old steps, which had formerly creaked loudly under her tread. In fact, she noted with confidence, she now climbed them, eliciting almost no sound at all.

She was looking for Jace. Having searched his room, the kitchen, the weapons room, and the library for him already, all to no avail, the greenhouse seemed like the next logical choice.

It really had been a long time since she'd been up here and, as she closed the door behind her and entered the huge space, the smell of fresh dirt and living things was a welcome reprieve from the city air she was so accustomed to.

The greenhouse was a few degrees warmer then the air-conditioned Institute, but not so hot as to be uncomfortable. In the setting sun, the room was cloaked in a pinkish light. Clary wandered through the rows of elaborate plants, searching for a familiar head of golden hair.

It didn't take her long to find him. She went, first, to the place she would have gone herself, had she come up here: the shrub with the midnight flowers. Jace was seated beside it, one leg bent up in front of him, the other folded beneath it. He had one arm laid over his knee, and in his hand, he held one of the flowers, closed now, and was twirling it thoughtfully in his fingers. He looked up at her approach and gave a small crooked grin. "Hey," he said as she came to sit by him.

"Hi," she answered, watching him watch her. "I was looking for you."

"You found me, my beautiful little stalker."

Clary smiled. "What are you doing up here?"

"Thinking." He looked back to the flower bud in his fingers. "This is the only place no one will come looking for me." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow accusingly.

She raised her own eyebrows in response, a smile playing at her lips. "Well," she said, and made half an effort to move, "In that case…"

He caught her before she got the chance, wrapping his arm around her torso and pulling her closer to his side. "Oh no you don't."

She gave in and smiled again, settling into his side. "What were you thinking about?"

He smirked and turned to look at her. "You, mostly."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, fighting the flush that threatened to color her face. "Well, I'm flattered. Really."

"As you should be. I don't waste my time daydreaming about just anyone, you know."

"Daydreaming?"

"Yes," he said earnestly, "Is that a problem, Ms. Fray?"

"Wow. It's been a while since you've used that name."

"It's true, I do prefer Herondale for you. As I do intend to marry you someday."

Clary was smiling despite herself at the thought. "Well," she said, "For now, at least, Fairchild will have to do."

Jace smiled at her. "So you've officially embraced the Shadowhunter name. I like it." It had been a while since Clary had last referred to herself as Clarissa Fray. After learning the truth about herself and her past, it seemed appropriate that, for official purposes at least, she go by Fairchild. She wasn't sure when exactly she'd made the switch from one name to the other in her mind, only that she now considered herself a Shadowhunter first, and everything else second, so it was only appropriate that her name be the same way. She'd just never actually talked about it. "And I'm sure the Clave will approve."

"Speaking of the Clave, have we heard from them yet? Has Maryse? Are they going to help us?"

Jace, completely serious now, sighed and shook his head. "Still no sure answer. Gia's been fighting on our behalf, but we still have a lot of enemies in the Clave, and they're not so willing to sacrifice more of us in a fight with a Greater Demon that only involves a few. She's doing what she can, but it's not looking good."

Clary shook her head, a strange mixture of disgust and dismay swirling inside her. "So we'll have no choice then but for Magnus…"

Jace sighed again and nodded. "Looks that way." He looked away and let the midnight flower bud fall from his hand, only to clench it into a tight fist. "God, it will ruin Alec."

Clary placed a hand comfortingly on his leg. "He seems to be doing alright, considering, almost like there's something he knows that we don't. Maybe there is a chance, some way for Magnus to survive…" she trailed off weakly, not really believing her own words. Magnus had practically said himself that he would die, hadn't he?

Jace only held her closer and said nothing.

So this was a bit of a filler chapter. Nothing much happened, but I felt like some stuff did need to be addressed before the major stuff continued, like the Clave situation and stuff. Plus, you just got some Alec/Simon and Izzy/Clary friendship and some Clace, so hopefully that was good. Let me know what you thought! :)

Thanks for reading!