CHAPTER 3


She'd never been in so much pain in her entire life.

She looked down to . . . well, she wasn't sure. To check for injuries? There were none. She knew that, and yet . . .

She screamed again, hollow and broken. Surely, surely her body was fracturing apart, so she wrapped her arms around herself in the tightest embrace, rocking back and fourth on the floor of her apartment.

Everything was red. Everything. Was red. Her senses were overloaded. Crimson shimmered in every glint of light her tear-filled eyes managed to capture.

She hadn't expected this. She never would have expected this.

When she'd gotten home, the aroma of sugar cookies and black coffee had been thick, almost overwhelming. Excitement had coursed through her, propelling her to drop her bag at the door and head straight for the kitchen. Beautiful piano music had been playing from a record somewhere off in the house and, in fact, still was. Taunting her. Every key a stab in the back, having traded its sweet melody for the darker sound of death.

What's happening, what's happening, what's happening.

The litany in her mind kept tempo with her rocking on the floor as she tried keeping hold of the tethering threads of her sanity.

What's happening?

No one was coming.

Why wasn't anyone coming?

She kept screaming, yet nothing, no one, answered to her call. She couldn't bring herself to move, or form words, or even cry properly. Tears were dripping from her wide eyes onto the crimson-stained floor, just falling against her will. Her mouth was stretched in that silent scream that only escaped when she choked back enough air to stop hyperventilating.

It was just her, and she was so alone, and help was nowhere to be found, and she didn't know what to do, and-

And then she heard it.

That laugh.

That mirthful, dreadful, tinkling of joy.

Emanating from . . . everywhere, from nowhere.

It bounced around the walls, echoed off the canvases, poured all over the apartment like a bowl filled to overflowing.

The laughter surrounded her, trapped her in an inescapable bubble of that terrible, terrible noise.

It was mocking her. Delighting in her despair, at the tears watering the stained floor, at the convulsions of her frightened body. She just wanted it to stop, wanted everything to STOP, so she screamed and screamed and screamed back at it-

Clary shot upright in bed.

Ragged, heavy breaths wracked her system and a cold sweat beaded all over her body, and she was shaking violently. Her arms wrapped around herself in a trembling cocoon on their own accord.

Her eyes were wide and alert and terrified of the shapes popping out in the intense darkness as they attempted to adjust.

And . . . In her ears . . .

She heard it.

Fizzing, bubbling . . .

From outside her window.

Laughter.

What's happening?

Horrific, musical laughter.

What's happening?

There was no mistaking it.

It was that laugh.

And it was right outside her window.

One long, shaking breath expelled from her freezing lips.

No.

No, I can't.

But her legs twitched with the desire nonetheless.

Don't.

But her body was already unraveling itself from the twisted sheets.

She couldn't help it.

Help it.

She had to know.

You don't want to know.

Had to see.

She stood and crossed the darkness to stand in the milky-blue pool of light in front of her balcony windows. Still shivering, sweating, and now panting, she reached one trembling hand to gently, slowly, pull back the velvet blue curtain.

Don't look.

Blackness.

Pierced only by the sliver of moonlight grinning down upon her, and all of its fellow stars.

It was the most beautiful night sky she'd ever seen. Greens and blues melting with pinks and violets off in the distance, as if someone had dumped paint into a black bathtub.

But the beauty was marred by the terror growing inside her chest at the incessant hysteria giggling itself to death beyond.

Don't.

Her fingers were moving against her will, mocking her as they curled around the ornate door handles.

Don't do it.

Her breath was hot on her hands.

Don't, Clary.

The doors clicked.

Please.

They slid open.

Wait.

Cool night air crashed over her in a wave. Her hair ruffled in the breeze and goosebumps erupted over her pale skin, now completely washed under the moonlight.

And the laughter stopped.

Instantaneously, abruptly.

Like a broken record that had finally been unplugged.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Harsh silence filled her ears.

Then every warning bell began going off in Clary's head.

Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!

Run, Clary.

Her heart hammered.

You don't want to know.

One foot stepped back.

You're not ready.

Slamming the doors shut suddenly, she threw the curtains back together and retreated.

Back into bed, back under the false safety and security of the blankets. The silence was so heavy it rang now, a call in her ears she couldn't decline. Even when she cupped her hands over them and squeezed her eyes shut, the silence permeated every defense. Inescapable.

Calm down, Clary.

Calm down, calm down, calm down, she tried reasoning.

Useless.

It's all in your head.

It's all in your head.

It's all in your head.

It's all in my head.

XXX

The blackness rippled in on itself, pushing and pulling and swirling in the eye of a maelstrom that Clary stared into listlessly, mesmerized, lips parted in brain-fogged wonder.

Silence.

Heavy, ringing, silence.

The aggressive clearing of her father's throat had Clary jumping in her chair. Suddenly the blackness was no longer contained, but pooling rapidly all over the onyx marble table-top and dripping onto the floor.

Clary inhaled sharply, immediately shooting from her chair.

Valentine looked like he was watching a monkey dine out of the corner of his eyes, which were now slit.

Jonathan chuckled airily. "You should know better, Father. It's rude to scare people like that."

"No, it's not his fault," she said immediately. Even though it kind of was. "I was zoning out. I'm sorry." Frantically, she looked for something to clean with, but a commanding wave of Valentine's hand and a low-spoken "Caterina will take care of that" had her abandoning the project.

Caterina, to Clary's (lacking) knowledge, was the head housemaid/personal assistant to her father, charged with every significant-or-not duty that her domineering dad could conjure up. Caterina had been the one to retrieve Clary from her bedroom at 7:00am sharp and escort her here, to the Dining Room, where she'd been inhaling cups of black coffee with way too much sugar for the better part of thirty minutes. It had clearly done wonders.

"Okay," she said lamely. "I'm sorry." Her nerves were a caffeinated wreck. She sat, facing the several arched windows lining the mahogany wall allowing beautiful morning light to penetrate the the otherwise unlit room. There was a fireplace devouring the wall behind her, but it did nothing to heat the frigid inside air.

Sure enough, Caterina then slipped out of the double doors leading to the kitchen and began soaking the spilled coffee with a bucket and rag, saying absolutely nothing as she did so.

Jonathan broke the uncomfortable silence. "How did you sleep?" he asked, voice warm.

It took Clary a minute to realize he was talking to her.

I didn't. "Fine," she lied. She wouldn't have felt bad about the lie if he didn't look at her like he knew she was lying. "How about you?"

His eyes stayed on hers for a second longer than necessary, but instead of pressing, which she was overwhelmingly grateful for, he simply replied "Wonderfully." His offered smile let her know he was telling the truth. He looked perfectly rested, whereas she had plunged her face into cold water five times to try and eliminate the gray from under her eyes before even leaving her room.

So . . . he hadn't heard the noise? Good to know. Meaning, she was crazy. Was that one of the stages of grief? She wanted to ask him, but- actually, scratch that. She did not want to ask the only person here who treated her like a human being if he also heard crazed laughter bubbling out of his dreams and into the night.

So she just smiled at him, but it felt tight, even to her. At least someone had slept like a baby, and not turned into one.

"Something wrong?" he asked genuinely.

"No," she said. Everything. "Nothing's wrong." She tried not faking her smile this time.

He clearly didn't buy it. She really didn't blame him.

Valentine set his fork down at a rather unnecessary volume. "Clarissa," he said after swallowing. "I take it you are prepared for your first official day today."

It wasn't a question. Because of this, she didn't immediately respond.

"Of course," Jonathan cut in for her cheerily, when Valentine looked like he was ready to say something else. "Yesterday was a full day, what with getting Clary's uniform fitted, introducing her to Maryse, touring the Academy, so on. I don't know about you," he said, looking right at her. "But I was dead tired last night." His smile was playful but sincere.

"Fascinating," their father said, giving Clary no opportunity to respond. "I trust in you, then, to leave a good first impression." She couldn't help but notice that her father refused to make eye contact with her.

She also couldn't help but wonder how a few errands were supposed to have prepared her for such a massive life transition, but she digressed.

Also also, she felt like she had already failed. Her first impression yesterday had not been necessarily subtle.

During their so-called tour (which had really just consisted of Jonathan walking her around during the lunch hour and pointing out random things that hadn't changed from a year ago when he still attended (which, note, wasn't a whole lot)) she had seen this boy getting what looked like the actual Hell beaten out of him, and for some reason it had triggered Clary's own fight-or-flight response and she had marched right over to the scene of the commotion and screamed for a reason she still couldn't pinpoint. The boy, honestly, probably thought Clary was crazy, because as soon as she'd gotten a good look at his face, it had been very difficult to take her eyes off. And the way he had looked at her. God. It was like he'd seen a ghost.

It was all very depressing.

If she could take it back, she would have just kept her stupid mouth shut.

"Clarissa."

Oh, right. "Yes," she said, already forgetting what she was even agreeing to.

"Good." Caterina finished up, leaving the three of them alone in the accompaniment of citrus scented soap.

Valentine then bridged his hands together all of a sudden, leaning forward over his empty plate. His expression was unreadable. "I have an order for the both of you." His eyes flicked between his children.

An order.

Not a request.

Not an option.

"Putting her to work already?" Jonathan asked with a brow raised and a glass of orange juice at his lips.

"With your expert guidance, of course," Valentine shot back, glaring at him.

Jonathan didn't seem to notice (or care about?) the sarcasm. "Where shall I lead, Father?" He held his glass away from his smiling face.

"There's going to be another new student transferring in today." Their father breezed past the joke, now folding his hands in his lap to lean back a bit more non-nonchalant in his high-backed chair.

Her brother's expression seemed genuinely surprised. "Oh? Well, aren't we popular this year."

"Quite."

Okay then.

New students must not have been a very . . . frequent occurrence at this place. Or maybe that was just the New York talking.

"So?" Jonathan poked. "What would you like us to do?"

Valentine's responses had been quick up until now, so Clary couldn't help but notice him taking his time with this one.

"Befriend them," he said finally.

Clary blinked.

Sorry . . . what?

"Hmmm . . ." her brother pondered, slim fingers splayed before his mouth in an act of deep thought. A twinkle lit his eyes, making quite the display of his obvious consideration.

Then, "Done."

Wait, what?

Clary blinked, trying to pinpoint where in the conversation she had gotten lost.

Befriend them? What was this, some kind of set-up? Meet-cute? Act of nonsensical kindness?

No, actually. Definitely not that last one.

"Al-thoughhh," Jonathan said, rather coy.

For the briefest, strangest, most singular moment, he sounded just like her mother doing that. Clary's heart skipped a beat.

"Might I ask why?" her brother finished, flicking his wrist toward their father in a gesture of inquiry. The way he was talking was starting to make her muscles tense.

"No."

Her muscles relaxed.

She saw that one coming.

Jonathan sighed. "As to be expected." Yeah, so why did you try?

But the look that was shared between them as they met each other's eyes had Clary feeling very much like the only person in the room who wasn't getting some obvious secret.

Until Valentine turned his sharp gaze on her, breaking it. "Understood?"

Clary gulped.

Um, no. She didn't understand a damn thing that ever came out of this man's mouth.

Not like she was going to tell him that.

She found herself looking to her brother for some kind of . . . signal? She didn't know, but was for some reason relieved when he gave her a gentle-eyed nod.

"Understood," she practically whispered.

"Good." He rose from his seat then. "I shall be awaiting for your reports on the matter later this evening."

Reports?

What was she supposed to do, write a ten page essay in MLA format on the discreetly stalked habits of some rando just living their life? Just what was he really asking of them? Of her?

A slight pounding in her head had her abandoning that useless train of thought. Perhaps she could try and squeeze some truth out of her brother later, but no questions accepted until further notice. Until they were far away from their father's nonsensical riddles.

Speaking of their father being far away: with that, Valentine was gone, disappearing out of the main doors and off to wherever it was he went to do whatever it was he did. She didn't know, and nobody seemed inclined to reveal that information yet. Which was sort-of fine. She wasn't feeling very inclined to press.

"Well, now that that's over," Jonathan said brightly, breaking the silence left in Valentine's wake. He caught Clary's eyes and smiled widely, the only ray of sun in her constantly cloudy world. "Who's ready for their first day at Shadowhunter Academy?"

XXX

"Don't look now," Alec warned, stepping right in front of Jace, "but you-know-who is stalking your every move."

Jace rolled his eyes and continued expertly fitting his wraps around his left hand. "I can't look, Alec. You are somehow always standing directly in my line of view."

His brother's expression soured. "I was just trying to give you a heads-up, jackass. Meliorn is itching to pick another fight today."

"Oh? And what gave it away?" he inquired, pulling the wraps on his left hand to tighten them. "His pitiful attempt at executing one yesterday? Or the fact I already knew he's been staring at me, because he's been desperately vying for my attention by mouthing sweet little nothings the entire time?"

Alec's features morphed into confusion. "He's been what?"

"Yeah," Jace answered. "It's real cute." He leaned on his left leg to peek over at the boy in question, who was indeed, as Alec had stated, stalking Jace's every move.

When their eyes met, Meliorn made a gesture with his fingers like he was holding a cigarette, raised it to his lips, and flicked his tongue out.

Jace blew him a kiss. Love you too, boo, he mouthed back, smiling sweetly.

Alec swatted him. "Stop that," he hissed.

Jace rolled his eyes again.

"Good morning, dear sweet brothers of mine," Isabelle sang, coming to stand next to them in a circle of siblings. "I trust you've both managed to survive without me for the agonizing length of my absence."

"Which brings me to my next point," Alec began, all adult-y. Here we go, Jace thought, suppressing his third eye-roll in 2 minutes. Instead he just shook his head in lieu of his brother's overly-protective nature. "Just where have you been? I know you snuck out last night, even if you managed to slip past everyone else-"

"I," Jace interrupted, posh. "Did happen to notice, thank you. I just had the decency not to say anything."

Isabelle smiled widely.

"Not helping," Alec ground out.

"Calm down, Alec," Isabelle cooed soothingly, patting his shoulder. "I promise you, I was in . . . protected hands." She wiggled her eyebrows, grinning as she did so.

"Oh my God," Alec scoffed, shaking his head. He pushed her hand off, annoyed. "I should have known you were out doing something unholy."

"I believe a few holes might have been involved, actually," Jace considered.

Alec choked. Isabelle released a slew of giggles, watching her brother's face flame. "Jace does have a point."

"Of course I do, sweetheart."

She glared at him. "Don't push it."

Jace pouted. "Touchy."

It was Isabelle's turn to roll her eyes, which she did so with a flick of her black mane. "If you boys would give a girl a chance to speak, I have . . . information to impose." Her tone was devilish, the mirth of one who had learned a secret.

Alec looked disgusted. "If this information is pornographic, I don't want to hear it."

Isabelle slapped his arm. "As if I would share those kinds of details with you."

"You do, and I always tell you not to-"

"Well, I figure you would at least gain a little something from it, so I try to help you out."

"Gain something? You . . ." His incredulous expression snapped into understanding. "You think you're real funny, huh."

"You know what? Fine. Isabelle's Treasuress Tome of Knowledge is forever closed off to you, Princess."

"That's not even a word-"

"Shut up-"

Ah, yes. It was 8:00am and already they were bickering. Business as usual.

From across the room, Meliorn caught Jace's attention again. He pointed at Jace, then at himself, then at the floor. It was, what Jace presumed, his laughably lame sign-language for it's about to go down. Jace wiggled his unwrapped pinky at him. In return, he received the bird.

The idiot had no sense of self-preservation. Which was fine. Jace was willing to teach that overgrown child a lesson that this school definitely wasn't nailing into him, any day of the week. It just-so-happened that today was Teach 'em Tuesday, and Monday's unexpected lesson had ended unexpectedly early. So, today, Jace was prepared to get his point across, even if Meliorn had to stay after class.

He was over this stale beef between them that he wasn't even entirely clear on the point of. Since Meliorn usually just resorted to insulting him, Jace chalked it up to beta-insecurity for the time being, until he grew enough balls to admit what it was really about.

"Front-and-cent-er!"

Alec and Isabelle dispelled their argument and the three of them fell in line with the rest of the class, like the good little soldiers they were, lining up for duty.

Instructor Graymark stood at the ledge of the Training Room's center sparring ring, dressed in his signature gray gear, looking down on the students through round glasses. "Good morning, Class," he said politely, voice much smoother as opposed to his booming command.

"Good morning, Instructor," the class versed in unison, forty-nine voices fusing together into one loud response.

Instructor Graymark, or Lucian, as Jace liked to inwardly refer to him as, since it was shorter and Jace sometimes just couldn't be bothered, smiled down at them.

In an Academy where the instructors were as rigid as its solid brick walls, Lucian was a nice breath of fresh air on Tuesday mornings. Jace secretly wished he taught more than just the Self-Defense class. "I hope you all had a good night's rest."

A collective forty-nine voices responded, "Yes, Instructor."

A muffled cough and "Those of us who aren't whores, anyway" came from down the line.

Really?

"Shut the fuck up, Meliorn." Isabelle craned her neck to glare at him.

Meliorn did the same. "I didn't say I was talking about you, but funny that you already knew."

"Yeah, because you do nothing but cry over the fact I wouldn't let you stick it in me."

Oh, Jesus. This was heading down too-graphic-for-Alec territory. Jace needed to reign his sister in before she gave Lucian a headache and Alec a heart attack. He turned his head towards her. "Isabelle, just ignore him. He's about to get his ass beat anywa-ow." He slapped Alec's elbow away from his abdomen.

A sharp laugh. "You can try, Herondale."

Lucian began rubbing his temples.

Headache not, repeat, not, avoided.

"Well, isn't this class . . . something."

Jace startled. Not because of the tall, shadowy figure standing next to Lucian, but because Jace hadn't even noticed the tall, shadowy figure standing next to Lucian appear there.

But now that he was in full view, the boy took the opportunity to give the class an even once-over.

"Sebastian," Lucian greeted in what sounded like relief. Sebastian. What a pretentious name. "I apologize for the . . ."

"Scene?" the boy, Sebastian, offered with amusement. His black eyes twinkled under even blacker hair.

Lucian chuckled dryly. "Yes, if that's what we should call it. Allow me to introduce you." He addressed the class with a sideways sweep of his arms. "Class, Sebastian Verlac. Sebastian Verlac, Class."

"Nice to meet you, Sebastian," the entire class called up to him, rather monotone.

Entire, minus Jace. Sebastian must have noticed, because the boy smiled right at him.

Jace glared back.

Now, Jace was judgmental by nature, sure, but something about this guy instantly rubbed him the wrong way. He'd spoken only six words, but Jace had caught the pompous undertones in each one of them, as well as the boy's half-hidden judgement during his blatant visual assessment of the class.

Sebastian chuckled. "The pleasure's all mine."

Lucian smiled. Jace wanted to vomit. Then he placed his hand on Sebastian's shoulder, and Jace wanted to double vomit. "Sebastian will be joining us for this period from now on." Great. "If anyone has any periods with him throughout the week, I'm sure I can trust you all will assist him as he learns to navigate the Academy." Navigate it yourself, asshole.

Lucian turned towards the boy. "For your first class, I'll have your partner explain the rules of today's exercise. He's top of the class, but based on your previous Academy's transcripts, I think you two will be a great fit that might be able to push each other. Jace!" he called.

Of fucking course.

"I'm pairing you and Sebastian together today, so please be sure to give him a thorough run-down of the Hit-and-Switch exercise."

Jace wanted to hit Lucian's switch to off. All of his fuzzy feelings reserved specially for his instructor, washed down the drain. He had been positively betrayed. Sebastian was just smiling down at him.

Jace felt mocked.

"Alright! You heard that, Class. Hit-and-switch until further notice, with your skill-based partner. Let me know if anyone has any questions! And begin!" His voice echoed throughout the cavernous room.

The students broke their perfect formation and the quiet hum of chatter began slowly filling the space.

A sharp pain in his abdomen had him cradling the spot of impact. "Ow," Jace snapped.

Isabelle retracted her elbow. "That's him."

"Him? Him who? I'm gonna need some elaboration here, sister-" He was cut off by her do-I-really-need-to-repeat-myself? look, and then he understood. "Oh. Oh." Jace was incredulous. "Him? Really? Isabelle, we might finally need to have a discussion about your choice of men-"

"What do you mean? He's hot," she interrupted incredulously.

"He's pretentious."

"That's hot."

Jace shook his head. "I think you're missing something essential up here." He tapped his head with a finger.

"I don't know why you're complaining. You just got stuck with him for the next four hours."

"That is exactly why I'm complaining."

She gave her blue eyes a heavy roll and flipped her hair back. "Whatever. Pull your pants back up and stop crying, because he's walking over here right now."

"Why didn't-" He spun, and sure enough, Sebastian was on his way. When Jace looked back over, Isabelle was already gone, meeting up with her partner. I'm gonna kill her. I am, one hundred percent, going to kill her.

"Hey. Jace, right?"

Jace froze.

Thawing slowly, he turned around, and faced Sebastian.

"Yeah. It's Jace." He looked down at the boy's pale, outstretched hand, and debated whether or not to outright ignore it. He found his own tan hand rising to the occasion of its own accord. For some reason he had expected the boy's skin to be cold, but it was warm, completely normal, and emotionally hurting Jace to touch.

"Nice to meet you." Sebastian's voice was devoid of any of the negative emotions Jace was currently experiencing. "Do you know her?" he asked brightly, withdrawing his hand, thankfully.

It took Jace a moment to realize who he was referring to.

"Who, Isabelle?"

A smile. "Yeah."

Jace's expression was blank. "She's my sister," he deadpanned.

Sebastian's face fell. "Oh."

"Yeah." Okay, maybe Jace was being pretty dickish, for like, no reason, but he was upset at having the opportunity of showing Meliorn what-was-what just stolen from him. Instead, he was stuck dealing with Mr. Tall, Dark and Annoyingly Pretty, with a side of I-had-sex-with-your-sister-last-night.

"Oof. Well . . . that's a little awkward." Sebastian scratched the back of his dark head with an embarrassed smile.

"Don't worry," Jace assured, sneering. "Next week, when she's moved on to her new playtoy, it won't be that awkward anymore."

Sebastian looked at him with an innocent expression. "Are you being sarcastic?"

Jace blinked.

Then he sighed. Perhaps he should condemn his poor attitude. He wasn't usually one for making enemies of his sister's . . . current interests. Meliorn just happened to be a special case. "Sorry," he said, losing some of the sass. "I'm just in a bad mood today." And I already don't like you, and you fucked my sister, so now I extra don't like you.

Sebastian's face softened in genuine understanding. "I get it. You got paired with the new kid. You probably had your hopes for someone else. I know how it goes." His smile was sincere. The fact that Jace could no longer hear any of the earlier judgement in his voice made it hard to hold onto his irrational anger.

It also made it a little hard to trust him.

"Something like that," Jace said vaguely.

"Jace! Sebastian!" Lucian called, gesturing for them to approach. They did so in silence, Jace willing the tension in his body to dissolve.

Was it just him, or was this week starting off with a little more aggression than usual?

"I saved the center ring for you two, so it would be a little quieter," Lucian told them when they stopped in front of it. "I want to try and not overwhelm Sebastian on his first day. Angel knows there will be enough tribulation later on." His smile made the fine lines around his crystal blue eyes crinkle. He was clearly being lighthearted, but Jace thought he sensed genuine concern in his words.

He wasn't sure he blamed the guy, the way this week was going.

Sebastian looked grateful. "I appreciate the concern." His hand came up to clap Jace on the shoulder blade. "I trust you're leaving me in safe hands." His smile reinforced it. Jace wished he would stop touching him.

Lucian just gave them a close-lipped smile and nodded, stepping aside to gesture for them to enter the ring.

Jace went first, ducking between the ropes as he'd done countless times, letting Sebastian's hand slide away. Self-Defense and Weapons Training were his favorite classes, and he usually always looked forward to enjoying them. Now, however, he was struggling to enjoy much of anything.

It also didn't help that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the relentless cycle of questions screaming for attention in his head.

Jonathan.

He needed to talk to Jonathan.

He'd been avoiding the notion, but for some reason it was intruding his thoughts now with bulldozing force. Which was annoying, because there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He didn't even know where Jonathan was, or where he had gone after Jace last saw him disappear into Maryse's office yesterday afternoon. Not to mention, as much as he wanted, needed, to talk to Jonathan, the thought was paralyzing. Would he even be able to speak properly if Jonathan stood before him? Also not to mention, now, Jonathan's undisclosed, apparent long-lost sister had entered the game, a player no one had seen coming.

He had no idea what to do with all of the information, and mulling over it all night hadn't gotten him any closer to a solution.

Plain and simple: sometimes, his life just sucked.

Sebastian faced Jace in the center of the ring. Belatedly Jace was noticing that he was already dressed in the Academy's sparring gear, although he had opted-out of any hand protection.

Confident dick.

"So," the other boy started. "What're the rules?"

Instead of forcing himself to function in this abrasive state, Jace decided to activate lecture-mode to try and breeze through the next four hours as quickly as possible. And hopefully to distract his mind from wandering down dark places.

Jace braced his hands behind his back. "Hit-and-Switch," he began, tone clipped and matter-of-fact. "An offensive-defensive exercise in which one partner starts off as the "hitter," and attempts to make offensive contact with the defending partner, who will be using a mixture of block, parry and evading techniques to try and deter the hitter from landing a blow. Once the hitter makes contact, the defender takes the hitter position and attempts to do the same."

Sebastian considered this. "So basically, we have to wait to get hit, and then hit back."

"No," Jace said. "You have to try not to get hit, and then hit back. Subtle difference."

"I see."

Jace doubted it. "Since Instructor Graymark wants to try and throw you a bone, I'll let you go ahead and hit me first."

Sebastian's smile was all amusement. "Well aren't I spoiled?"

Jace couldn't wait to hit him.

Readying himself, Jace released his hands from behind his back and braced forward in the defense-position. Sebastian reared his arms and one leg back in the offense-position and ducked his head, looking up at Jace through the curtain of his dark lashes. He fell into the stance naturally, as if he'd done it a thousand times. Jace licked his lips, and asked, "Read-"

And a hand was shooting toward his face.

Jace stumbled back, the blow missing by the hair on his head, ruffled in its breeze. His heart skipped a beat.

Sebastian let out a harmless laugh. "Sorry. Did I scare you?" It sounded like a challenge.

Jace collected himself, cracking his neck from side to side. He recaptured his stance. "Not at all," he replied casually. "Just wasn't expecting you to jump the gun. Here I was thinking you might be a little squeamish on your first day."

The boy's smile slid into a smirk. "It's been a while," he admitted. "So I apologize. I suppose I got a little excited."

If that's what he wanted to call it. "No worries," Jace said. "Now I know what to expect." He began teetering back and fourth on the balls of his feet.

Sebastian just grunted in amusement. "Ready?"

Jace nodded.

Sebastian exploded into action.

Three swift punches flew directly at his face in rapid succession, and Jace's feet stepped back on cue with each one, narrowly avoiding every blow. Sebastian's long leg arched around, and Jace spun to the side, the kick missing. When Sebastian leapt forward, Jace leapt backward-

And fell into the elastic embrace of the ring's ropes, throwing him off balance. The other boy's torso reared up in front of him. Jace pushed on the balls of his feet with all of his force and, without missing a beat, ducked and rolled underneath the punch as it crested over his head.

Rolling diagonally and springing to his feet, Jace turned fluidly, just in time to parry another punch aimed at his cheek. Sebastian's knee shot up from in between them. Jace jumped back, but Sebastian was on him, so he somersaulted underneath the hazard and popped back up, whipping around to face Sebastian again-

And another side kick was bee-lining straight for Jace's chest. He had no choice but to brace his arms coffin-style and tense his muscles against the impact, which had him stumbling back not one, but two, feet. A grunt escaped his lips.

Sebastian hadn't technically landed a blow, but that certainly hadn't felt good.

Jace had to mentally collect himself.

Lucian had remarked that Sebastian's "transcripts" had set him basically on par with Jace, but he hadn't thought the boy would actually be giving him a run for his money right off-rip.

Sebastian seemed completely unbothered and in his element.

Which is what Jace should have been feeling right now.

"Almost got me there," Jace bantered, rolling his shoulders to dissolve the tension building in them.

Sebastian nodded his head to the side in agreement. "Almost."

Jace copied the movement, waiting for him to strike again, keeping him where Jace could see him.

Sebastian began circling around, so Jace responded in kind, rotating so that they were always the same distance apart.

"Where did you say you were from again?" Jace asked, suddenly curious.

"I didn't."

Jace's mouth twitched. "Right."

Sebastian chuckled. Jace was getting real sick of the noise. "I'm from France. Paris, if you must know." He switched his footing, causing Jace to do the same.

"Interesting." Paris wasn't particularly far from Idris, so it wasn't particularly strange that a student might transfer from there. Was Jace just being unnecessarily paranoid? Somehow, that thought seemed wrong, egotism aside.

Sebastian just shrugged. "You could say that." He switched his footing again, and Jace followed. "It wasn't by choice, if that's what you were wondering."

"Oh?" Now that did sound interesting. "So what forced you?"

Sebastian looked like he was debating telling Jace the truth as he slowly walked in that circle, Jace's current mirror. Jace sort of hoped he didn't, just to validate his inclination that the boy was untrustworthy.

But then Sebastian said, eyes filled with an achingly familiar sadness, "There was . . . a family tragedy. My cousin and I are the only ones left."

Jace stopped moving.

There was no bravado here, no front to the tone in his words.

Shit.

Well now he felt like a giant asshole.

What massive baggage. Damn, why did Jace even have to ask?

"Oh," Jace said, erasing all pride. "Man, I-" Another speed-of-sound punch that had Jace cocking his head back to avoid, cutting his sentence off completely.

Sebastian laughed as Jace regained footing. "Just kidding," he said. "Our aunt got a great deal on a fancy piece of real-estate, so we relocated."

Jace had to physically restrain from launching himself at this guy.

He had evoked real emotions of sympathy out of Jace just now, just to shit on them seconds later. He probably thought he was being so quirky, trying to make friends on his first day or whatever. But his only accomplishment so far had been pissing Jace off, which wasn't hard to do, so it was a shitty accomplishment to say the least.

"I see," Jace said, keeping his eyes on Sebastian's.

"Do you?" Sebastian asked.

Jace felt his face contort in confusion.

Then Sebastian was off.

Round 2 was instantly more intense. It was like the other boy had only been going half-out, and now, was throwing it all on the table. Their footwork traced complicated patterns across the floor as Jace dodged and blocked all of Sebastian's advances in a dizzying flurry of movement.

But something felt . . . off.

Despite their increase in speed, Jace was still managing to avoid all of the boy's strikes. Tit for tat, hit for it, they kept up with each other. Sebastian's aggression didn't increase along with his number of blows.

For some reason, it made Jace feel like the mouse that Sebastian was just playing with.

Jace blocked two rounds of punches and a hefty side-kick that had another grunt escaping him. He balanced himself in time to leap away from what could have been a devastating front-kick. Sebastian put his hands back up, only a sliver of his face visible behind the barricade of arms. Their eye contact was intense.

It never took this long. Hit-and-Switch was a fast-paced, frenzied exercise meant to simulate a real fight. Usually the hitter was constantly switching back and fourth, but Jace could feel the sweat beginning to break across his forehead, the heat rising underneath his breathable gear.

Actually, scratch all that. It usually never took Jace this long.

Unless his opponent was . . .

Sebastian's advance had Jace abandoning his train of thought to duck below another blow. He brought his hands up to block the boy's knee-kick, and then Sebastian's arms were coming down above his head, aiming straight for Jace's skull. Jace twirled out from underneath him and faced him again once he was back upright.

Jace was breathing heavily now.

Sebastian, was not. Making Jace feel all the more like just some prey to this wild cat under the guise of a household pet.

He was beginning to get frustrated.

He wanted Sebastian to just hit him already, so Jace could revel in the pleasure of returning the favor, but simultaneously he didn't want to let this guy get the upper hand on him, even for a second, even for the purpose of a simple training exercise.

So fine.

If Sebastian just wanted to play, then Jace would play right back.

Screwing the rules, Jace threw a fake-out, catching Sebastian deliciously off-guard.

The other boy's head flicked back, eyes blinking rapidly in his confusion as he pulled himself back to balance. "I thought you said the defender could only use blocks, parry's and evasions?" Sebastian asked incredulously once he was back to normal, one black eyebrow raised.

"I said he uses them," Jace informed him, knowing and not caring that it was a stretch. "Not only uses them."

Sebastian's dubious expression was overshadowed by the perpetual amusement caking his face. "So that's how it is." It was more of a statement than a question.

Jace shrugged. "I figured I'd spice things up a little. Push ourselves, as Lucian so elegantly put it."

"Lucian?" Sebastian looked genuinely confused.

For just a brief second, Jace let himself swim in the satisfaction of that look, even over a matter so insignificant. Then, being the saint he was, he let Sebastian in on the details. "Instructor Graymark."

Sebastian's eyes widened into understanding.

"Oh. So that's . . ." He trailed off, leaving Jace in growing confusion at the dawning look of puzzle-pieces coming together in the other boy's head.

"That's what?" Irritation laced his words. He had just spilled the theoretical secret, so what gave Sebastian the right to look like he was the only one who got it?

The boy's smile was infuriating. "Interesting."

Jace had had enough.

Damning the rules, he leapt for Sebastian.

The boy parried Jace's attacks one by one, retreating on step with Jace's every advance. Jace kicked out but caught nothing but air, as Sebastian came around his side with a swift fist aiming straight for his head. Jace twitched forward, dodging it, and twisted to throw an upper-right hook at Sebastian's chin. The boy threw his head back, the blow missing completely. Then Sebastian's arms were flying and Jace was retreating, parrying every punch with maximum effort.

His breath was coming hot and fast. Sweat was dripping from his temples.

And he could not, for the damn life of him, seem to hit Sebastian.

Jace growled in frustration, popping off. He threw everything at the other boy, almost aimlessly, ignoring the feeling in his stomach as desperation. Jace did not get desperate. He stayed calm, cool, and collected, because he always knew he had the upper hand. Even when he was letting someone get the better of him, he always knew he had the upper hand.

In response, Sebastian went off.

Jace felt his face twist in confusion at the boy's new lightning-fast pace. Just how many levels did this guy have?

Not to be outdone, Jace pushed even harder, stretching the boundaries of his limits.

What was going on?

Jace threw Sebastian's incoming arms to the side, growling as he did so.

For just a split second, it left the boy's abdomen completely, utterly open.

Jace snatched the opportunity, immediately rearing his wrapped hand for a landing blow-

And then pain was blooming across his cheek, and Jace was sprawling to his side on the floor. Most of the air left him in one breath, the rest choking him as it caught in the back of his throat.

"Shit," Sebastian hissed. In an instant he was there, right in front of Jace, gripping Jace's shoulder with worry.

"Man, I am so sorry. I so did not mean to hit you that hard." His voice was sincerely apologetic, and his black eyes were filled with nothing but concern.

Jace balled his fist so he wouldn't punch him in the mouth, and pushed himself to his hands and knees, coughing out the remaining soreness of impact. He shrugged his shoulder as non-discreetly as possible, and Sebastian's hand fell away, once again. "It's fine," he said, voice raspy from cardio. "That was a good hit." He wasn't even sure why he was complimenting the guy. Probably so he didn't insult him.

Jace's words clearly did nothing to persuade Sebastian's well-practiced distress.

Jace seriously could not get a good grip on this guy's personality, and it was pissing him off, like everything else about him. Like the fact that this new, obnoxiously nice foreigner had actually gotten the upper hand on impenetrable-when-he's-actually-trying Jace Herondale.

Jace had to be having an off day. His mind was too preoccupied with too many other things. That's what it was. What it had to be.

Right?

"Maybe we should take a breather," Sebastian offered, all friendly. "I know I could use one." His laugh was breathy. Then he bent closer to Jace, as if he were telling him something he didn't want anyone else overhearing. It took all of Jace's willpower not to lean away. "Also, don't look now," he warned in a low voice. "But I think we might have made a scene. Everyone seems to be looking at us for some reason."

Jace felt his eyes widen in confusion at the ground. He reeled them back in before looking up to see that, Sebastian was right. They had an audience indeed.

Nobody was doing their exercises. Everyone was blatantly turned towards and looking at them from their individual sparring rings, mouths practically agape. Lucian was nowhere to be found.

Did they have no shame?

From across the room, Jace caught Isabelle's eye from his spot on the floor.

Suddenly, he was having deja-vu, transported back in time to yesterday, when he had been letting Meliorn have his way before readying to put him in his place, but never got to, because a girl had interrupted, and stood there, and looked at Jace exactly the way Isabelle was looking at him now.

Like she was worried.


Hello~

So . . . I know it's been a while. I won't bore you with any excuses, just know . . . more updates coming soon :)

Thank you to the reviewers! I appreciate the encouraging words, it is seriously so helpful! I heart you guys.

This chapter was so much fun to write. I kind of got carried away with the fight scene between Jace and Sebastian . . . sigh. I can't help it. I just love writing fight scenes between boys. I think something might be wrong with me.

Also, expect the chapter's to get progressively longer as time goes on. I am just not a short chapter writer, no matter how much I'd like to be ;_;

See ya~