Magnus took in the current sight of his loft. He'd thrown many a wild party, nevertheless he would definitely remember this assortment of guests.

They had left the construction site quickly. All agreed to come back with him: Jocelyn's cover blown, Clarissa knowing of the Shadow World, the Lightwoods aware Valentine was alive, and it became quite clear Luke was not able to revert back to his human form – despite his having done so moments prior – trotting down the streets, Amatis sprinting to stay even at his heels, both hurrying to his cell, should he lose his capricious control. The demons had an impressive ability to dismantle warding spells, Magnus would give them that; he was glad no one else was staying in his cell block, and fortunate his one prisoner was so willing to return.

And after getting Luke securely situated back in his suite, Magnus conferred privately with the Lightwoods: what they were going to tell the Clave – while a most bizarre family reunion commenced amongst the Morgenstern-Fray's. The Lightwoods were concerned for their children if this ever got out, but they also had little faith the Clave would believe them, running into Valentine and Jocelyn unexpectedly. They were still paying the price for their involvement in the Circle, but all agreed Valentine and Jonathan had helped tonight, so in debt for saving Robert's life, they exchanged their silence for a formal apology from Valentine: for having led them astray, abusing their trust, getting them mixed up in most foul affairs.

After the Lightwoods left, Magnus finally had the chance to appraise Valentine himself. Not his type, though it was gallant of him, to climb up and retrieve his former parabatai's crossbow, and he could certainly see how a young, more impressionable Jocelyn could be so taken with him.

He and Luke, however? Sleeping together? Magnus shook his head; he would need to see them side by side, with Luke in his true form, to have a better understanding how that happened. But he would keep his word. His lips were sealed on the matter. Though he had been tempted to tell Amatis, many times. But there was plenty of other personal drama here to observe, as Clarissa and Jonathan split from their parents to talk solo, leaving their parents to attempt the near impossible, to mend bridges, to come to some sort of resolution.

He gave them their privacy, of course. But as it was his place, he was entitled to at least some entertainment rights. And being able to amuse oneself was imperative, when one's lifespan was never-ending. But the hour was growing late, tensions were running high, and Magnus thought it best everyone reconvene after obtaining some much needed sleep. Himself included.

So he cordially invited all to return tomorrow, at their earliest convenience, or desire, and most graciously shooed them out his door, Clarissa most heartbreakingly, not taking her eyes off her brother, who turned back once more to see her as well, as he and their father exited first.

Jocelyn spent a restless night, preparing herself for the task ahead, fulfilling her promise: to tell Clary everything, after everything she planned for Clary's life had fallen apart, while also dealing with the absolute astonishment of her family reunited. The son she had not seen in fifteen years, who at first strongly resembled his father, but the more she looked, the more she saw her family's features on his face, the shape of his hands, the slender physique.

Even Clary standing next to Valentine appeared different – Clary, so often considered her carbon copy – the slant and shape of her eyes, his laser focus, her irreverence, all intertwining.

Jonathan's demon blood still terrified her, or maybe it was the memory of that time and all the unknowing it entailed – why her days and nights were haunted by something she could not explain, a miasma in her mind, a suffocating paranoia, growing just as surely as her belly, that Valentine continually assured her was nothing to worry about, that only made sense when she found his notes, the evidence of what he had done, to her and their baby. And why she decided she would rather die, than tell him she was pregnant with another.

The only thing she could say in his favor was he had not abandoned his ill-fated experiment. Had in all honesty, done a better job than she would have: raising him, training him, working with him, and that ever present malevolence. She knew logically what was done was done, but she was still a long way from forgiveness.

Clary, however, was absolutely fascinated with Jonathan, and not so much her father: "Really, Mom, you should have known he was trouble. If not by his looks, his name's a dead giveaway," she reproached, on their way home.

But over a hearty breakfast the next morning – since they would be sitting there awhile – Jocelyn started from the beginning: her father's name of Fairchild, and what her parents and home had been like; meeting a young Lucian, as she'd called him then; what her initial schooling had been, and how she had then gone to the capitol to study, and there met Lucian's good friend Valentine; what it meant to be parabatai; her marriage, the Circle, Lucian and Valentine's fall out, disrupting the Accords, and fleeing with the Cup, after finding her family home in ashes, and when Clary began to see the Shadow World anyway, having her memory swiped – throughout the telling, Clary interrupting:

"You would kill me if I got married at 18. You know that, right?"

"What?! Luke asked you to marry him?!"

"I could do this too, fight demons? There's a school for that?"

And finally, "Mom, why did you hide all this from me? You… took my birthright; this is what you really meant – when you said Luke always wanted you to tell me the truth."

And Jocelyn sighed, ready to give the explanation and confession she had pondered in her bed the night prior. "Please know my actions may have been misguided. I can see now there are dangers in both the mundane and the Shadow World. At this point, I can't say what I believe would have been right. This is not meant to excuse my choice, but know that I was traumatized by what happened, and the best I could do at the time was run away.

"You've heard the saying 'The grass is always greener on the other side?' I wanted to be spared from Shadowhunter affairs after what happened to me: my son and I were experimented on with demon blood; my dear friend was turned into a werewolf; my husband held a knife to my throat, then kidnapped our child. I left my parents – who I have since learned died in my absence – and everyone I knew behind, a price I was willing to pay, with the hope of keeping you safe. After all the Shadow World took from me, I wanted nothing more to do with it, believed I'd have been better off never knowing about it, and that's what I gave you. Yet here you are now, telling me you would rather have known, but I will say this: if this is the life you chose, I will do anything I can to prepare you."

Clary's anger deflated, and her shoulders, already so small, hunched down, before asking in a quiet voice, "Mom?"

"Yes?" Jocelyn replied, at this point having no idea what her daughter would say.

"Can we go see Luke now?"

"I haven't been able to get an answer out of him since last night. I'm glad he got back here without my having to chain him. Could barely keep up with him, actually – nice of him to slow down, not make me look completely out of shape – do you have any idea how bizarre it is having to run after a werewolf, all your instincts telling you to get away, yet knowing its your brother?"

It was so strange, to see Amatis in the light of day. Jocelyn had forgotten just how similar she and Luke appeared. They practically screamed they were siblings, then adding on how unusually close they always had been, growing up so completely dependent upon each other. Their personalities were very different, but they shared certain physical tics that Jocelyn had also forgotten about – a tendency to bite their lips when nervous, or to tap on tables, both of which Amatis did presently – but in the overwhelming surreality, over these last few weeks, she could not shake the sense she was talking to Luke suddenly turned into a woman.

Or perhaps she just needed sleep and that was easier to consider than what Luke actually turned into. "How did you and he end up there last night?"

"Magnus had been following leads, and I volunteered to patrol. The demons took care of the cell warding, but as to how or why he found us, I cannot truly say. I tried asking him, but he was gone."

"I couldn't get a response from him, either." Clary joined in, dragging her feet as she approached, then slumping down in a seat at the table with them. "But I can't believe he turns into that every month. Does it hurt? When he changes?"

From the mouths of babes. Or to see something with new eyes, unafraid, and not confined by Nephilim's taboo topics of discussion. It was a question Jocelyn had never dared ask, and by Amatis' stunned silence, neither had she, just what exactly that felt like. She only knew it varied. Some moons worse than others, and she didn't know why. However, she was spared answering by an announcement from Magnus: "Simon is here, everyone!"

"Clary!" came Simon's triumphant trumpeting, practically skipping over to the table. "This is crazy, isn't it?! I'm so glad you're back! Hi Mrs. Fray, I brought a cake for you all. Hey, Amatis. Hey, Luke!" Simon shouted over his shoulder. "I'll see you in a minute!"

Just as she had never wanted Clary involved in this, she had never wanted Simon mixed up in Shadow World business, but she could not deny the comfort his presence brought and the gratitude she felt towards him. "You've had quite the time yourself. Thank you for coming here, to see Luke while we were away."

"Of course! Honestly it's been a blast hanging out with Magnus and Amatis. Who knew Luke had a sister? Well, you did, obviously – anyway, sorry I had to lie to you about how I know Luke, Amatis," Simon chattered rapidly.

"I had a feeling something was being kept from me... but Valentine and Jonathan, what a shock! Are you alright, Jocelyn, Clary?"

"Well, Valentine's not as nuts as I was first led to believe, but I'm still really mad at him – I didn't get to grow up with my brother," Clary stewed.

"There were times I truly wanted to kill him," Jocelyn admitted only too seriously, to the immediate comprehension of everyone at the table, but she had told Clary she would tell her the truth. "And it was all the worse what he did, having loved him. But seeing him now, it's good to be reminded he's only a man."

"I want to know what he said to Luke," Clary declared, unfazed by her mother's old rage. "Luke was fine when we left, then Valentine talks to him, and this happens? It doesn't seem like a coincidence to me… Simon, let's go talk to him again. You got an answer from him before, right?"

"Sure did! You can call me 'The Werewolf Whisperer!'" he enthused, then: "Hey Amatis, why are you laughing at that! I thought it was cool, it even has alliteration!"

Meanwhile Clary was struggling between amusement and annoyance, but Jocelyn was only too used, to making jokes about Luke's condition and appreciated his humor. "Oh, one more thing," Simon asked, "did Luke really shoot a crossbow, jump into the air, then land as a werewolf? Magnus told me."

"He did," answered Amatis.

"That is the most badass thing I've ever heard. I wish I could have seen it. Mrs. Fray, I'll be honest, when I heard you all were Shadowhunters, I thought with you, 'Yeah, I can see that.' But Luke, I really thought he was a mild mannered guy who ran a bookshop. Not a crossbow wielding werewolf."

"The crossbow was his specialty," Jocelyn smiled sadly, and after the two of them went off, adjusting to their new reality remarkably well, to attempt to converse with a werewolf, Amatis turned to her. "There's something I need to speak with you about privately, Jocelyn. Would you step outside with Magnus and I?"

"Of course," she replied automatically, but inside was afraid. What more could be added to this mess? She found out shortly and immediately relived her horror, when Valentine had told her Luke took his life. She could not quite believe it, and she could not quite believe it now.

"I'm aware this is childish, but I want to blame Valentine for this." He put the idea in his head, that morning so long ago.

"Like mother, like daughter?" Amatis weakly offered, before admitting, "When I was told, I felt it was my fault."

"It's mine too, I…" Should have been there? She'd left him too. Both in Paris, and then New York.

"We wanted to tell you first," Magnus said softly. "Do you want to tell Clary about this? We've kept it from Simon. Dorothea's the only other person who knows."

Jocelyn sighed, "I'll tell them myself. Do you have the letters?"

"I do. We apologize for having read them."

She shook her head. "There's no need. I just… I'd like to read mine. I'll leave Clary to her own."

Jocelyn took the envelope with shaking hands from Magnus, then shuddered through silent tears and crinkling pages, that Luke had willed everything he owned to her and Clary. That he was sorry it had come to this. That he'd rather she didn't find him. To tell Clary whatever she needed to. Depression, if she had to. Thanking her for allowing him to stay and that he loved her, Clary too. Had set aside a pocket watch and some antique books for Simon that were significantly valuable, asked her to get them to him. All written in a steady hand, never slipping, as though he'd been writing nothing more than a shopping list.

Not knowing what else to do, she shoved the paper in Amatis' general direction – too heavy to bear on her own, and glad she was not here on her own – unsure exactly where as tears blocked her eyes, though she saw Amatis's hand in a blur pick it up, and perhaps because the two of them were blurring so in her vision, it seemed Amatis read it as though it were nothing more than a shopping list.

"I confess, it was easier to read, not knowing you all so well," Magnus said, disagreed.

"I'm assuming he used the Morgenstern blade. Where is it?"

"So you can murder Valentine with it?" asked Magnus, to which Jocelyn cracked a smile. "I'm sorry, it has caused far too much trouble lately. I'm keeping it under lock and key."

"Probably wise," she conceded.

"Speaking of: Jocelyn, are you seeing Valentine and Jonathan again?" Amatis asked.

"They are coming here, later today. Clary desperately wants to see her brother. She said she wanted to show him something but it's funny: our kids are curious about each other but Clary couldn't care less about Valentine, at the moment, and Jonathan is keeping his distance from me. He can tell I'm still furious with his father and doesn't approve. And even between Valentine and myself, I thought I would have more to say to him..."

"If you don't mind, may I speak with Valentine? I too want to know what they talked about," said Amatis.

"Go ahead." Let Valentine deal with the mirror image of his parabatai in the form of his sister. The same sister's marriage he broke apart. Should be an interesting conversation. Yet, he had apparently already apologized to Luke. And she herself received an admission of guilt she never expected from him just last night.

But before Simon left, Jocelyn told them Luke had attempted to take his life and gave Clary the letter he had written to her. Like mother like daughter, she opened it right away, and Clary looked at once furious and heartbroken.

"I don't understand," she muttered, her mouth a thin line, yet misty eyed. Jocelyn thought this most likely a reflexive response, but still replied, "Don't understand what, dear?"

"He's talking about… trying to find me. An art gallery. When he first met me, something I was drawing. He doesn't say anything about…" Jocelyn sighed. Of course, Luke would not have been forthright. He honored her wishes till the end. But then Clary asked abruptly, "How did he do it?"

Good indeed, that Magnus was keeping it under lock and key. "With a kindjal. The one I told you about: one of a pair your father inherited."

"But how? What did he do?" she asked again.

"He I assume was trying to cut his femoral artery," Jocelyn said stone-faced, while Simon spoke for all of them by blurting "I feel sick" and perhaps Clary did too, in her rage: "What is wrong with my father!? If he hadn't said that, Luke wouldn't have–" yet quickly lost steam and switched to reassuring herself. "But Magnus saved him; he's right over there."

Jocelyn watched from a distance: Simon leaving and the two saying their goodbyes, comforting each other. It didn't help that she'd known for a long time Simon – sweet, loyal Simon – loved her daughter and Clary – headstrong, tempestuous Clary – didn't feel the same. A story Jocelyn knew only all too well.

"You text me alright, Clary? If you need me, I'll come back," Simon assured.

"I'm so glad you're here," said Clary, sincere.

"I apologize about Stephen."

And Amatis was momentarily stunned. It was one thing to hear from the others of Valentine's new and changed ways, it was another to experience them for herself. They were sitting, just them two, Jocelyn currently with Lucian, and Clary and Jonathan off to the roof top.

"You really are full of apologies."

"By necessity."

And Amatis had to stop herself from shaking her head. This is how the Circle had gone as far as it had: this man's charm. Hell, he'd even had enough to charm her brother. She'd been so surprised: Lucian shyly telling her they were to be parabatai. It was painful to remember, how sweetly happy he'd been. Though she supposed she could say the same for her own marriage. She'd been sweetly happy too, once upon a time.

"There's something fitting in it, I suppose: I left Lucian, then Stephen left me."

"That is certainly taking the high road."

And now she had to stop herself from laughing. Truly, it was terrifying how easily Valentine won people over. It was a gift – his ability to narrow in on what people wanted, needed – that he'd used for terrible purpose. It made her feel as though they were simply chatting as they'd done so many times – at the cottage or the house she'd shared with Stephen. She'd made an extra effort to get to know him, knowing what it meant to Lucian. He'd never said as much, only in the way he'd looked at her – nervous, eager, so unlike him – that he'd wanted her approval.

Then of course she remembered how he'd cried, the morning of their ceremony – he so rarely cried, even as a child. She'd hoped it was simply nerves, or even a burst of emotion that he had not known how else to express; his reasons why mostly gibberish, anyway, when he managed anything at all. He did not fit in her arms as easily as when he was younger, still, she'd held him, ran her hands over his hair.

But with the benefit of age and hindsight, she wondered if Lucian had known somehow he and Valentine were ill-fated, destined to fail: that despite having met all the requirements, they were not a good pair. Even at the time, she could admit to having some questions why, out of everyone, Valentine had chosen her brother. Were the seeds of Valentine's downfall already planted at that point? Had he simply wanted power and thought Lucian would be able to give it to him?

Now was as good a time as any to ask.

"I am aware this is hypocritical coming from me, but I've wondered many times in the years gone by: did you really love him? Lucian? You were in such a rush to change the Clave, was acquiring a parabatai another cog in the wheel? Or something you wanted and Lucian was good enough? He was not the most skilled or cleverest of fighters, even after your tutelage. There were plenty more successful students with plans and interests similar to yours who would have said yes to you. And don't dismiss that as flattery, you know it was true."

"I would not dare," Valentine assured her with a no-good smile, causing her to forget what they were talking about for a moment and bat his arm. "Oh, stop. How incorrigible."

"I apologize," he replied, with a convincing enough drollness.

"Was it like this when you spoke with Lucian? Was there anything left of the better times between you?"

"You wish I had never asked? Him to be my parabatai?" he countered.

"You can be great fun, Valentine, but I cannot say I truly ever knew your heart. That's the drawback of all that glamor of yours, because don't think it's escaped my notice how you won't answer my questions about him… though I suppose that isn't anything new. You two always were rather private. Sometimes I even forgot you were parabatai."

"What do you mean?" At first she thought he was surely joking but when she turned to him found his playfulness gone.

"Oh, you know. Those showy pairs, putting their rune on display for all to see, who made a party out of the whole thing, not letting you forget they're parabatai."

"Thinking of anyone in particular?"

"Robert and Michael, obviously."

"Of course."

"But you two didn't do that, and was that strategic on your part? Everyone could conceivably be your best friend? Your closest confidant? Why Stephen believed you could replace him so quickly?"

"...Lucian did start to turn, the second night I spoke with him." He was refusing to answer? But at least switching to something she wanted to know. "He did? You mean, he couldn't control it? And why? Was he upset?"

"We were speaking of the night he was bit. He asked me to leave, I did. I saw him again two nights later. He was human, and remained so during my stay, and I then left the city to assist Jonathan."

"What night was that?" Amatis asked, wanting to see if it matched with Simon's recollection, the day Luke had looked particularly ill, with an apparently sprained ankle, and sure enough, it was the night prior, and told Valentine so.

"There was nothing wrong with his ankle that I could detect, when I saw him next."

"Was he… was he alright? Emotionally? It was always hard to tell, with him."

"We had plans to see each other again, the following evening. Our visits were not easy nor pleasant, but I was hopeful. I… very much wanted to see him again. I did love him. Though like you, I imagine he often wishes I had not." Amatis shook her head. "I just… had some fantasy, I suppose. If… if he is truly stuck like this, I hoped that his last few days were at least nice."

"They were most likely not."

"The one time I'd like you to smooth things over, you don't."

"And I contributed to that: I am the reason he is a werewolf, after all. But I am not given up that he can recover and I suggest you do not either."

"Never expected to hear encouragement from you again."

"I never expected to be sitting with you again. It is good to see you Amatis, despite everything."

"Surprisingly, it's good to see you, too. We really made a mess of things, didn't we."

"I can only assume your common denominator in using 'we' pertains to Lucian, as any other messes you may have made pale in significance against mine, however yes, we did."

"It's just that charisma of yours. You can't even help yourself. That's the real root of your problems."

"I do not disagree."

Clary stared at her brother, silhouetted against the sky, wind gusting through his hair, same shade as the clouds whipping by. Rosy pink, twilight blue, setting off his skin in the glaring setting sun. She felt uncomfortably warm even though the temperature was mild, at least for this late in summer. She'd had that sense, of humid heat, too much and too heavy, since the demon appeared, but it'd been a slow burn since her mom and Luke sat her and Simon down at their dining table. With the doughnuts. Powder and glazed and cinnamon swirls. Wish she had a box right now. Might make this less awkward, because when she got her first good look at Jonathan he had seemed instantly familiar. They didn't look alike; it wasn't because they were related. He was also, admittedly, an attractive guy, just objectively speaking, which was also awkward – confusing, this whole thing was very, very confusing – still, she was sure she'd seen him before. Then, looking through her artwork earlier today, she'd found him: specifically in her preliminary drawings for her own graphic novel.

"I have something I want to show you," said Clary, steeling her nerves.

"Oh?" said Jonathan, encouraging her to continue. He had a funny way of speaking – like his, like their father – formal, almost stupidly formal, with a hint of a foreign accent. Her mom told her Idris was in Europe, between Germany, Switzerland and France – it didn't exactly sound French or German, but maybe her and Luke had just dropped theirs more? Clary couldn't figure all this out, told herself to just keep going. "You remember I told you I like to draw?"

"Yes, as does our mother?"

"Yeah," she answered, fumbling with her backpack to pull out her sketchpad. "Do you ever read graphic novels?"

"I've seen them, yes."

"I like to draw them. This is one I've been working on and this character I made up, I thought I made up, anyway, he looks just like you. Not the dark hair, but besides that – here, look."

Jonathan studied the page. "You are quite skilled! I agree, it does look like me. When did you draw this?"

"About a year ago. But I'd thought about him longer than that, he's this cursed prince and" – oh great, she'd just called her brother a prince, not weird at all – "I could see him crystal clear. It took me a bunch of tries, because I knew exactly what I wanted him to look like, and I wasn't getting it. I wasn't even happy with this drawing, but it was the best I could do, and I was wondering, maybe I drew this because we've always been connected, even though we weren't together? Even though I didn't know about you?"

Jonathan was silent a moment, still looking at the drawing. "It could very well be. There are many types of magic, types of sight in this world. And about a year ago is when Father first found you. And then I knew we would meet. Eventually."

And maybe she was confused, and she'd never expected to have a brother, particularly a handsome cursed one, but she knew, from her rage of being denied him, that she loved him. And maybe had, for a long time.

This was really all so crazy, but the two of them descended the stairs, Jonathan noticeably slowing his pace to accommodate her – why was he so tall? And why was she so short? Couldn't her father have given her some of his height? Though her mom, her secret, scary-ass warrior mom, had assured her being small could be an advantage in a fight – until they reached the bizarre table, of Luke's heretofore unknown sister and the mystery man himself, built like a small tank, with a really hard face – which she was loathe to admit, looked a little bit like her face – and she ran to get her mother, just for something familiar, someone to guide her through this, except that involved seeing a werewolf in a magically barricaded cell, who was actually the man who read her bedtime stories and took her out for ice cream. Who was also… like… magically bonded to her father, at one point?

Jonathan unfortunately, only sent her world spinning further out of control when he dared to be the first to speak to the newly assembled group. "I am aware this will not be a popular opinion, but I must say it: are you sure this is right? Keeping Lucian Graymark locked up? He tried to kill himself to prevent just this from happening. I know we have all thought it, and I would like to volunteer to kill him if it comes to that. It will be easier for me than any of you. He loses awareness at times, I would do it then. I won't hesitate, it will be quick. It would be my way of repaying him for aiding me yesterday."

"We will wait for now but your opinion is noted, Jonathan," his – their, why was it easy to think of Jonathan as her brother, but not him as her father – said solemnly and Jonathan seemed satisfied. Amatis and Jocelyn kept their silence, and Valentine stood.

"Wait, are you leaving?" Clary asked.

"I thought this might be a good time to excuse myself and Jonathan, yes," Valentine – Valentine? Was she going to be one of those people who called their parent by their first name? – answered.

"Have you seen Luke yet? Let's go see him together," she suggested, surprising everyone including herself. A precious father-daughter experience.

Valentine looked to Jocelyn who nodded, and Amatis who concurred. "It's fine with me. Jonathan, come sit with us. Tell us about your dealings with those demons from yesterday."

Ooh, a precious mother-son moment as well! "It's settled then," Clary declared, with more confidence than she actually felt, then started walking towards the cell block, Valentine/her father walking a few paces behind. Who, as she mentioned, was tall and noticeably slowed his pace to accommodate her. It was nice when Jonathan did it, but when he did it, it just made her mad. He? Could she get away with calling him him or he this entire time?

Fortunately, she didn't have to say anything until she got to the cell. The wolf, still laying down, opened its eyes – Luke, Luke opened his eyes, except she'd never seen Luke as the wolf, it'd always just been a big bad werewolf with no feeling Luke was there at all – and they weren't the same, this was just… an unusual medical condition, basically. Or maybe, more like the worst PMS ever. Luke had coped valiantly for years with a really terrible menstrual cycle, where he literally turned into a monster once a month. Simon would think that's funny. No one else here would think that's funny. Still, had to keep the jokes coming, for her sanity, and this was a new one: "Luke, my biological father is here to see you."

Two things happened after that, both shocking. First, she heard a low chuckle; her biological father actually thought that was funny. And two – two, clear, sharp barks.

"Luke?" asked Clary, not liking how meek her voice became in her hoping.

The wolf barked twice again. Yes. Then stood, did an impressive downward dog, a little strained, still tender, moving gingerly as it started stepping around – enough for Clary to remember why: the giant knife this guy next to her gave Luke when they were younger. But she didn't want to linger on that right now, because Luke was finally here. "Really?! Wow, hi!"

In her excitement, she'd forgotten she needed to ask yes or no questions to get a response, but she noted after giving her eye contact for a time, it had switched to Valentine, and the two just stared. Clary ran through her jumbled history to then exclaim, only half in jest, considering what had happened: "Oh, don't worry, Luke. I won't let him kill you! I just learned I've got superpowers too."

"...My biological daughter does not seem terribly fond of me, Lucian. And for some reason, does not trust me much." The nerve of him to… keep up with her jokes?

"Does the effect of this get easier when the moon wanes?" he changed course, and to her slight irritation, taking command. No.

"Do I remind you of Valentine?" interjected Clary. Yes.

"Both your mother and myself never cared much for authority and enjoy bending and breaking rules for our benefit, so I cannot say that you got that entirely from me, but do be careful. I took it much too far. Your mother handled herself better. Is that what you meant, Lucian?" Yes.

"Anything else?" she asked, enjoying making her father guess, except that drew his attention to her, studying, before he then casually declared, "Something about the face, too. Around the eyes, particularly. Lucian?" Yes.

"It will probably be more noticeable when you are fully grown."

She sort of regretted having her physical fears confirmed; wasn't just her, thinking there was some resemblance. But she internally shrugged her shoulders. He was her biological father, after all. And though she never cared much for authority, it was hard to bypass DNA. And though both her parents had left, they were both Shadowhunters. And the lure of that was calling her, too.

Jocelyn fell heavily into her chair to share afternoon tea with Amatis whilst Clary ran off to share her plans with Luke. If he could not respond, hopefully he could listen.

"So, Clarissa has decided she wants to be a Shadowhunter," Amatis confirmed. News travelled fast.

"I spoke with Maryse, and we both agreed. The best thing for her would be to study in Alicante. I… never expected to be going back, and briefly wanted her to stay here, stay secret, study at the Institute, but the Lightwoods and Hodge are already in enough trouble with the Clave. I've tried to warn Clary the two of us will be notorious, but at least she will get the help she needs. I am not the most natural of teachers, which I only now just realized, but she's a quick study, regardless, and she's been using my stele – of course she enjoys drawing the runes."

"You can both stay at my cottage as long as you want," Amatis offered. "Or if you want to live in complete infamy, you could take over the Morgenstern grounds. But I'm going to stay here with Lucian, start running his business for him. Magnus said he'd send over some children of the moon to help. It will be something like a refuge for troubled werewolves."

The crossroads, everyone scattering, once again. Valentine and Jonathan, back to the wind from whence they came, and Jocelyn returning to her past, but she had promised Clary if this was the path she chose, she would do whatever she could to help her. And it was a tad easier, knowing Luke's sister would be watching over him. Just as she had when they were children.

"I cannot thank you enough, Amatis. For being here."

"This will be hard on Simon."

"It will," Jocelyn sighed.

"Well, I'll just have to look after him too, won't I? When are you leaving?"

And Jocelyn smiled, despite the overwhelming reality of what was to come. "As soon as we can. We'll be in touch."