Angels Revealed

+Chapter 1+

I glared at the older woman in front of me, curly tendrils of strawberry blond hair fell into my endlessly blue eyes, but I did not shift my gaze. My feet were planted firmly on the ground, arms crossed over my chest causing my shirt to ride up ever so slightly revealing on my lower-back what started this altercation in the first place, and my hands were balled up into fists. My hands were closed so tightly that my knuckles were turning white.

"Jaclyn-Christina Fray, I am very disappointed in you." The woman, Jocelyn Fray, my mother, said anger evident in her voice.

"It's my body, I can put anything I want on it," I said in my quiet, tranquil voice. "I'm seventeen, practically an adult; I don't see what the big deal is. I got a tattoo on my body, just a little swirling on my lower-back. It wasn't like I dragged Clary in there with me and let her get inked too." She looked livid at my last comment.

"The big deal, Jaclyn is that you deliberately did something I asked you not to." She spoke slowly and I cocked an eyebrow. What is this, she treating me like I'm a little kid? She's reprimanding me about something I did to my body? My mother has issues!

"You asked me, not to. I figured since you simply asked that it was a request more than a demand. You have to be more specific next time, Ma." I replied cheekily. She groaned in agitation. "Anyway, Xander told me I didn't have the guts to get a tattoo and I was more likely to jump off a bridge because I would be too terrified of my mommy finding out. You know I can never turn down a challenge, it's my fatal flaw if-you-will." I told her with my toothy grin, leaving out the fact that I have jumped off a bridge, multiple times. She might have gotten all blotchy with anger from this tattoo, I'm pretty sure she would never allow me to leave the house again if I ever told her about that. Almost positive actually.

"I don't like that boy," she said in a motherly tone and I rolled my eyes.

"So am I grounded?" I asked glumly and she nodded. I scowled, no sports; gymnastics well that would be interesting to try in this apartment, no kickboxing, no skateboards, and definitely, no partying. It really sucks getting grounded during the summer when there's nothing to break up the day.

"I don't want you hanging around with that Xander boy," Mom began, but I pulled a face at that.

My scowl deepened as I spoke, "Mom you can't be serious, I made the decision! He didn't do this!" I said turning and lifting up the back of my thin black tank top.

She shook her head. She wasn't even acknowledging my little outburst. "If you're going to go anywhere it will be with Clary, spend some sisterly time with her Lynnie. That's the only way you are to leave the inside of this walls." Same old, same old. Whenever I get grounded, I no longer have freedom to be out on my own. I get what I refer to as babysitting duty. I love my sister, it's not that I don't love spending time with her, but half the things I do when she's not around I would kill her of she ever did. I am a hypocrite like that and mom knows it. So when I'm with Clary I keep myself out of trouble and her.

I stalked into my room, slamming the door none too gently behind me. Two beds. One bureau and a closet that had most of the contents scattered all over the floor. Clary and I share this room and sad to say, we are not and I suppose never will be tidy people. I don't remember the last time I saw the carpet since the time we've lived here and it's been before I could remember. That has got to be bad.

I threw random articles of clothing off my bed, clearing it so I could lie on my rumpled sheets without further lumps from a denim skirt, t-shirts, and a flip-flop. I buried my nose in a book, my mom has no idea I own and wouldn't approve that I read, but a little fantasy never killed anybody. Werewolves, vampires, witches, demons, and fairies I understand aren't real, but I find it fascinating to read about the fictitious beings that I will never have the dismay or crossing paths with.

Mom squashed the fairytales of fairy godmothers and little talking animals in those Disney movies. Anything fantasy she didn't want us to delve in it whatsoever, I found it weird. All other mothers read those stories about majestic adventures with talking wolves that tricked little girls into thinking he was an elderly woman swallowing the poor girl. Then the hunter comes along and cuts her out, giving the effective happily ever after children love to hear. But not ours, we never got the stories before bed.

I let the book I was reading consume me. It pulled me into the world. I was immersed in the pages of paperback clamped in my fingers. At some point I slipped into unconsciousness before I even had time to put the book down so I woke to the book resting on my chest and my sister just come around. Her rusty red locks fanned out on her white pillow case and she shifted to her side as her lashes fluttered a bit before they sluggishly dragged open.

"When d'you get in last night?" I asked her. I yawned, dog-eared the page I left off on and wedged it in the space between my bed and the wall.

"About twelve-thirty," She must have gotten the Spanish Inquisition from Mom. First one of her daughters walks in with a tattoo and the other comes in at that time. She was already warmed up from our little confrontation.

"A little late, huh?" I asked smiling, "Past your bedtime wasn't it?" I asked her and she rolled her green eyes.

"Like you wouldn't have done worse." Clary quipped. But she had that uneasy look on her face; Mom really must have ripped into her last night. Giving her a lecture that was designed to make her feel extremely guilty. Telling her how much she worried – I don't doubt it – and that she and I are the bane of her existence…so to speak.

"I did," I told her as I stretched in bed, knowing what happened hours before she dragged her feet through the door I was being reprimanded. She quirked an eyebrow.

"What'd you do, Jaclyn-Christina?" She mocked with a smile. I smiled and shifted onto my stomach, kicked the sheet down the sheet that covered me, and lifted the bottom of my black tank top. I heard her gasp as she saw it. The pretty black swirl on the small of my back – the very base, just high enough above the band of my shorts reach.

"Nuh-uh," Clary said in disbelief. One thing artsy Clary and I have always had in common under the few things we actually do was that both of us have always wanted to get a tattoo. It's been about nine years that I've wanted one and I finally got it. "Does it mean anything?" She asked.

"It means peace. I know lame, but when I was getting it I was thinking of peace overcoming all the evils in this world, but then I remembered that there is never peace anywhere like in those corny movies and the real world isn't like that. So it remains, lame." I said and she laughed.

"You're grounded aren't you?" Clary asked.

I sat up throwing my legs over the side of the bed. "You know it, doll." I told her lightly. "So are you grounded?" I asked.

"You just want to know so you can invite yourself into any plans that I have." She said and I smiled, "You know me too well, Clary." I replied to my little sister's accusation.

"I've known you for fifteen years, I would hope so." Clary remarked.

"Well I hope she isn't grounding you, because babe you're my get out of jail free card. If you're grounded too, we're both stuck here."

"What you don't want to just spend sisterly time with me, here, it has to be outside these walls?" She joked.

"Yeah, preferably where it doesn't smell, what is that smell anyway?" I asked and she laughed shaking her head.

I slid off my bed and tip toed throwing the door open, Clary following suit. We padded out into the apartment and there seemed not to be anyone home beside us. Both Clary and I let out a collective sigh. We found a not from Mom, telling us that she was out running errands with Luke and that she would be back later. We've got some time to kill.

After we went through the usual morning routine and we both showered and dressed we were at a loss for what to do.

I sat my light faded ripped jean clad butt on the couch and lost myself in a book my mom wouldn't mind me read if she found me with it. I was so into the classic that I apparently didn't even hear the phone ring and only noticed someone was on the phone when she plopped her petite form right onto the book that lay in my lap. She smiled wolfishly as she spoke into the phone. "Sign of her questionable taste, if you ask me." Clary said into the phone.

"Get your big butt off of me!" I complained.

"My butt is not big!" She argued. "Oh, Simon says 'hi' and he says you're welcome to come to the poetry slam, Eric is performing." She told me.

"I'll be there if you will Clary, unfortunately, but I'll be out of the house none-the-less." Just think about the bright side, and not Eric with his pathetic attempt at poetry.

"Get off me Clary," I said and she just shifted off me and into the spot of the couch beside me. I immediately got back into my book, but was more alert this time and Clary leaned her head on my shoulder.

Clary straightened in her seat and grabbed a book opening to a random page and I buried myself even further into my book. Mom recognized reading as a sacred pastime and usually wouldn't interrupt us even to yell.

The door opened with a thump and Luke came in. His arms full of boxes of what looked like pasteboard, but when he out them down I could see they were just boxes laying flat. My brows furrowed in confusion for a few seconds and I just shrugged it off.

"Hey, Luke," Clary greeted, the man who has practically been family to us beside our mom.

"Hi, Luke," I said and offered a smile, "Where's Mom?" I asked.

"Parking the truck," he said straightening his lanky frame with a groan. He dressed in his usual a flannel shirt, old jeans, and a pair of bent gold rimmed spectacles that sat askew on the bridge of his nose. "Remind me again why this building has no service elevator?"

"Because it's old," I said immediately, and Clary finished, "and has character," with a sarcastic edge. Luke grinned.

"What are the boxes for?" I inquired and just like that his grin vanished. "Your mother wanted to pack up some things," he said, avoiding our quizzical gazes.

"What things?" Clary asked.

He gave an airy wave. "Extra stuff lying around the house. Getting in the way. You know she never throws anything out. So what are you up to? Studying?" He plucked the book out of her hand and read aloud, "The world still teems with those motley beings whom a more sober philosophy has discarded. Fairies and goblins, ghosts and demons still hover about—" He lowered the book and looked at her over his glasses. "Is this for school?" He asked and I took the liberty to answer.

"The Golden Bough? Luke she wouldn't be reading that in school, it's mostly grueling books that one likes, or ever wants to read." I said with a smirk, "And plus school doesn't start for another few weeks and I'll be graduating this year and moving away the day it is possible!" I said and he scowled at that.

"Oh and that's mom's book." I added as an after thought. Clary took the book back from him.

"I had a feeling."

She dropped it back on the table. "Luke?"

"Uh-huh?" The book was long forgotten as he rummaged through his tool kit. "Ah, here it is," he pulled out and orange plastic tape gun and gazed at it with deep satisfaction.

"What would you do if you saw someone no one else could see?" Clary asked him and my eyes snapped to her. What is she talking about?

The tape gun fell out of his hands and hit the tile around the hearth. He knelt to pick it up, not looking at her. "You mean if I were the only witness to a crime, that sort of thing?"

"No. I mean, there were other people around, but you were the only one who could see something. As if it were invisible to everyone, but you." Clary confirmed.

He hesitated, still kneeling, the dented tape gripped in his hand.

"I know it sounds crazy," Clary ventured nervously, "but…"

He turned to her, his eyes rested on her with a firm affection. "Clary you're an artist, like your mother, even your sister in her way." He glanced at me, then back to Clary. "That means you see the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty in the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy—just different. There's nothing wrong with being different."

I gently bumped my shoulder into hers and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, "Take that at face value, toots. I'm a firm fan of the saying seeing is believing granted I'm the wild and crazy one here, but if you call yourself crazy you forgot all about me!" I said with a smile and she cracked up laughing.

Once we calmed down Clary asked Luke, "If Dad had lived, do you think he would have been an artist too?"

Luke looked taken aback, but all too soon for my liking my mom walked in all her paint splattered jeans glory. She handed Luke back his keys and offered a small smile, "Thanks for bringing the boxes up." I looked on uninterested and rubbed Clary's arm knowing she has begun her obsessing just about now. "Sorry it took me so long to find a space. There must be a million people at the park today—"

"Mom?" Clary interrupted. "What are the boxes for?"

Mom bit her lip. Luke flicked his eyes toward us and mutely urging Mom forward. With a nervous twitch of her wrist she tucked a dangling strand of hair behind her ear and joined us on the couch. Both of us shifted slightly to face her.

"Is this about last night?" Clary asked.

"No," Mom said quickly and then hesitated, "Maybe a little. You shouldn't have done what you did last night, Clary. And Jaie I still can't grasp that you did that. You both know better."

"And I already apologized. What is this about? If you're grounding me, get it over with." Clary said.

"I'm not grounding you." She told Clary and my brows furrowed in confusion. She glanced at Luke who just shook his head.

"Just tell them Jocelyn," he said and my eyebrows scrunched closer.

"Could you not talk about us like we're not right here?" I said angrily. "And what do you mean tell us? Tell us what?" I asked.

Mom sighed, "We're going on vacation."

Clary and I still sat stiffly. "That's what this is about? You're going on vacation?" We sank back in the cushions a little bit, "I don't get it. Why the big production?"

"I don't think you understand. I meant we're all going on vacation. The four of us—you girls, me, and Luke. We're going to the farmhouse." She said.

I freed my arm from Clary's shoulder not looking pleased. I have a bad feeling about this. "Something's wrong." I said and Mom glanced at me, "Nothing's wrong, Lynnie." She was lying.

"How long are we staying there?" Clary asked agitated as well.

"For the rest of the summer," Mom said and I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from saying something I would love to say now and be punished for later, "I brought the boxes in case Clary you wanted to pack your paint supplies and Lynnie your photography things and your books."

"For the rest of the summer?" Clary sat upright with indignation, as did I. "I can't do that Mom, I have plans—Simon and I were going to have a back-to-school party, and I've got a bunch of meetings with my art group, and ten more classes with Tisch—"

"I'm sorry about Tisch. But the other things can be canceled. Simon will understand, and so will your art group." With the implacability in Mom's tone Clary realized what I had the moment she started, she's serious.

"But I paid for those classes! I saved up all year! You promised." She cried. This was a really big deal for her.

I spoke calmly. Whenever anything goes wrong I get coolly calm, "Mom what about my job at the Coffee Bean, if I leave my position I won't have it when I come back and my photography group." I said normally except without the joking edge that I usually have.

"I'm sorry about your job, Lynnie, I'm sure you'll find something else and your photography group will be able to survive without you." Mom talking in almost the same coolly calm tone.

Clary couldn't take it as she whirled on Luke, "Tell her, tell her it isn't fair!"

His head jerked from how it was looking out the window, "She's your mother. It's her decision to make."

I sat on the edge of the couch clutching it in my fingers, my knuckles turning white. "I don't get it." Clary said and turned to Mom, "Why?"

"I have to get away, Clary," the corners of Mom's mouth was trembling. "I need the peace, the quiet, to paint. And money is tight right now—"

"So sell some more of Dad's stocks," Clary said angrily. "That's what you usually do isn't it?" Clary asked.

Mom recoiled. "That's hardly fair."

There is something wrong. Very wrong.

"Look, go if you want to go. I don't care. I'll stay here without you. I can work; I can get a job at Starbucks or something. Simon said they're always hiring. I'm old enough to take care of myself—"

"No!" The sharpness in Mom's voice made Clary jump. "I'll pay you back for the art classes Clary. But you are coming with us. It isn't optional. You're too young to stay here on your own. Something could happen."

"Like what? What could happen?" Clary demanded.

There was a crash and all three of us glance back at Luke who seemed to have knocked over a framed picture. "I'm turning eighteen in a few days, you can't make me go." I said in the same tone I've been talking in since Mom walked in.

"I'm leaving," Luke said after setting the picture back.

"Wait," Mom said hurrying after him.

We twisted around on the sofa and strained to eavesdrop. "…Bane," Mom was saying. "I've been calling him and calling him for the past three weeks. His voicemail says he's in Tanzania. What am I supposed to do?"

"Jocelyn. You can't keep going to him forever."

"But Clary and Lynnie—"

"Aren't Jonathon," Luke hissed. "You've never been the same since it happened, the girls aren't Jonathon."

I glanced at the frame of the man—Jonathon Clark—that I don't even remember meeting in the first year of my life. He had rusty colored hair like Clary's and he was wearing military dress. The man crashed into a tree before Clary was even born. What does our father have to do with anything?

"I can't just keep them at home, not let them go out. They won't put up with it."

"Of course they won't they're not pets, they're teenagers. One practically an adult and the other well on her way."

"If we were out of the city…" Mom drifted off not knowing where to go with it.

"Talk to them Jocelyn." Luke's voice firm. "I mean it." He reached for the doorknob.

The door flew open and Mom gave a little scream.

"Jesus!" Luke exclaimed.

"Actually, it's just me," said Simon. "Although I've been told the resemblance is startling." I snorted at that. He waved at Clary and me from the door. "You two ready?" He asked.

Jocelyn took her hand away from her mouth. "Simon were you eavesdropping?"

I couldn't contain my laughter and Mom and Luke looked at me. "Mom, you're asking if Captain Clueless was eavesdropping? That is hilarious!" I said.

"I resent that." Simon said.

"That you're hilarious, how sad maybe you could have been a stand up comedian with that type of humor." I said.

"No, that I'm clueless. I'm not." He said.

"It's okay Simon, I'll love you know matter what. You're like the annoying little brother I never wanted." I said and he smiled.

"I'll answer your question Mrs. Fray that no, I wasn't eavesdropping, I just got here." He took a look at Mom's pale face and Luke's grim one. "Is something wrong? Should I go?"

"Don't bother," Luke said, "I think we're done here."

I was watching the exchange and knew Mom wasn't finished ruining our lives just yet. I know she loves us and we love her, but right now I don't really like her all that much. I watched as Simon stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking uncertain. "I can come back later," he said. "Really. It's no problem."

Mom looked relieved and began, "That might—" until I cut her off that is.

"No!" I burst. "We're ready." I said urgently.

"Forget it, Simon. We're leaving," she said pulling her and me to the door. I grabbed my camera bag and she her messenger bag.

"Later, Ma," I said and Clary gave her clipped 'see you later, Mom.'

"Don't you think we should talk about this?" She tried desperately.

"Face it Ma, we'll have plenty of time to talk on 'vacation,'" I said and a livid Clary dragged Simon and me out of the building calling over her shoulder to Mom, "Don't wait up."

Simon also called a, "Bye, Mrs. Fray! Have a nice evening!"

"Oh, shut up, Simon," Clary snapped and slammed the door behind us.

.

.

.

"Clary, will you calm down already? Yeah, Mom's a big mystery, it really annoys me too just shut it, doll," I said and she gave me a look, "For me, okay? You're not the only one who has to deal with this insanity. Whenever you're not grounded, I am, and how do you think I feel about this, huh? I'm turning eighteen, yeah I made the argument that I wouldn't go but I know in the end she'll drag me kicking and screaming. I'll be an adult by law, but not by standard." I said glumly.

Yeah, I'm rebellious. I stand up for Clary, when Mom gives her the third degree over nothing. I am an adrenalin junkie and interested in things that Mom doesn't deem important – like my bout with fencing lessons – but somehow when it comes down to it I listen to her when I feel something's wrong and right now I can feel that something is very wrong. I let Clary drag me off and didn't force her to stay behind, because then she would have exploded and it wouldn't have been pretty.

I feel better being with Clary anyway. When I'm with her I'm sure she's safe, I'll protect my baby sister. Yeah, she is usually never walking the streets of big bad Brooklyn – funny – alone, but bony little Simon, with his witty comments, isn't exactly someone I could rely on if something dangerous was going down and Clary was there. What it comes down to, the boy can't throw a punch to save his life; believe me I've seen him try.

We were on our way to the poetry slam the humidity thick in the air. "Why does my hair have to frizz and yours looks perfect?" Clary complained as she tried to tame her wild red curls as we walked. I grinned finding the change of subject amusing. "Just luck, I guess." I said as I ran a hand through my smooth strawberry blond curls that reached the middle of my back contrasting tremendously with my navy blue, dark blue, and cerulean striped short sleeved unbuttoned shirt with a navy blue tank top beneath it.

Simon and Clary talked about his band for a bit. I offered my opinion here and there to them. They were usually laughed at by Clary and received a mock sour look from Simon. "We're choosing between Sea Vegetable Experience and Rock Solid Panda." Simon told us about the band names that they came up with.

Clary and I shook our heads. "Those are both terrible." Clary told him.

"If you want your first gig to not judge you on your horrible name and have this be your last I would choose something less dumb and more creative. C'mon with all those annoy witty comments there had to be something." I said with a smile.

"Eric suggested Lawn Chair Crisis." He said that and I burst out laughing.

"Maybe Eric should stick to gaming." Clary offered.

Soon enough we walked into the Java Jones and the band talk ceased. I forced myself not to laugh when Simon was talking about his girlfriendless state and then trying hard not to slap him when I heard the requirements his friend gave him to follow. A girl has to have a rockin' bod? Seriously could his friend Eric be more of a sexist pig!

Clary pulled me and Simon down onto a love seat with her. She was squeezed in the middle and both Simon and I on the ends.

The sexist pig – Eric – was on stage already stinking up the place with his horrible poetry. I can't believe Simon and his band mates are here to support this? I spaced out. Not hearing just surveying my surroundings. Until Clary's eyes focused on something and my uninterested eyes drug to the same place. There was a blond boy sitting there trying to cover his laugh with a cough. Simon looked as well, to the green couch where the boy was sitting, only he looked confused like he was seeing nothing.

He had metal cuffs around either wrist and from one there seemed to be a bone handle of a knife. He was looking right at Clary, as she, Simon, and me all stared at that spot only it looked like Simon was more confused than anything, like he wasn't seeing this boy. He lifted his left hand which had a glittering ring on his slim finger, and waved at her in a way that radiated his arrogance and cockiness. He got up and walked unhurriedly toward the door.

Clary shifted and Simon called her name and put his hand on her arm. "I'll be back," she said and then sprang off. I looked at Simon, "hold our spots will ya?" I asked and he nodded as I walked briskly to the doors following my sister as she followed that boy that I had never seen before and didn't like the looks of. He looked dangerous; I'm not leaving my baby sister alone with someone who looked like he did. I like danger, but she isn't aloud to.

"Nice try. And you were eavesdropping, too. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?" Clary said as I pushed the doors open.

"And tell them what?" The boy said witheringly. "That invisible people are following you? Trust me, little girl, the police aren't going to arrest someone they can't see."

"I told you before, my name is not little girl, its Clary," she said between her teeth.

"You look pretty visible to me." I said in an annoyed tone as the boy shifted his gaze from Clary to me. I stood at respectable five-feet-six-inches half a foot taller than my baby sister. "And who are you and why are you bothering, Clary?" I asked annoyed.

"Jace," he said with a smirk. "And I'm not bothering your friend."

I scowled at him and rolled my eyes. "Clary's my sister," I said shortly, "and I know her well enough that she isn't flattered that you had the tendency to call her little girl, kid, because her name is Clary like she pointed out." I said.

"I know," he said. "Pretty name. Like the herb, clary sage. In the old days people thought eating seeds would let you see the Fair Folk. Did you know that?"

"What are you even talking about? What's with the freaking riddles?" I said my annoyance growing with this kid with each word coming out of his mouth.

"You both don't know much, do you?" He said and my hands were by my sides clenched in my irritation. There was a lazy contempt in his golden eyes. "You seem to be mundanes like any other mundanes, yet you can see me. It's a conundrum."

"What's a mundane?" Clary asked.

I rolled my light golden brown eyes. "Someone of the human world. Someone like you." Jace said.

I groaned. "Before I just thought you were annoying and now I think you are insane. Who isn't from the human world?!" I said exasperated.

"You're human." Clary stated.

"I am," he said. "But I'm not like you." There was a defensiveness to his tone. He didn't sound like he cared if we believed him or not.

"You think you're better. That's why you laughing at us?" Clary asked.

"I was laughing at you because declarations of love amuse me, especially unrequited," he said. "And because your Simon is one of the most mundane mundanes I've ever encountered. And because Hodge thought that you might be dangerous – and if he knew about you he would have thought even more so," he glanced at me as he said the last bit and then at both of us. "But if you are you certainly don't know it."

"I'm dangerous? I saw you kill someone last night. I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs—" Clary exclaimed.

"That wasn't all of it was it," I knew by her tone that she drifted off. But I gripped her shoulder and pulled her closer to me and further away from Jace anyhow. I pulled her slightly behind me.

"I may be a killer," Jace said, "but at least I know what I am. Can you say the same?"

"I'm an ordinary human like you said." Clary said.

"Yeah and I'm her human older sister and future Police Officer of the State of New York and someone who is not afraid to kick some ass." I said glaring at him.

"Who's Hodge?" Clary asked.

"My tutor. And I wouldn't be so quick to brand myself if I were you." He leaned forward. "Let me see your right hand," he said to Clary.

"My right hand?" She echoed and he nodded. "If I show you my hand, will you leave me alone?"

"Certainly." His voice edged with amusement.

He took her hand in his and turned it over. "Nothing." He sounded almost disappointed. "You're not left-handed, are you?"

"No. Why?" She asked confused.

"Most Shadowhunter children get Marked on their right hands—or left if they're left-handed like I am—when they're still young. It's a permanent rune that lends extra skill with weapons."

He showed us his left hand. And Clary immediately said, "I don't see anything?"

"Even though, I can't stand this kid already, you know Clare that patience is virtue. But I still think he's crazy." I said with a smirk at my last comment.

"Let your mind relax," he suggested. "Wait for it to come to you. Like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."

"Crazy," I said in my ironic tone and then I saw the lines going across his knuckles, the long joints of his fingers. The black design on the back of his hand I blinked and then it was gone, "A tattoo?" Clary asked.

He smiled smugly and lowered his hand. "I thought you could do it. And it's not a tattoo—It's a Mark. Their runes burned into your skin."

"They make you use weapons better?" Clary asked, evidently finding this hard to believe.

"Burned into your skin? That's not strange at all." I quipped.

"Different Marks do different things. Some are permanent but majority vanish when they've been used." Jace explained.

"That's why your arms aren't all linked up today even when I concentrate?" Clary inquired thoroughly confusing me.

"That's exactly why." He sounded pleased with himself.

"The Mark on your hand kind of reminded me of your tattoo, Lynnie." Clary said to me and I sighed. Open up a can of worms over nothing why don't ya.

"Really?" Jace quirked an eyebrow. "Your name's Lynnie, now isn't it?" He asked me.

"Well it's not Clary or Simon so I think you made the right guess there, Jace." I said sarcastically. "Oh, and it's a tattoo I designed myself. No correlation to any of this." I insisted. "I just wanted one for the longest time. So I got one on a bet, it was a win-win situation." I grinned.

"What's it look like?" Jace asked.

"That is none of your business." I said pulling down the back of my navy tank top.

"It's a bunch of swirling on your lower back," Clary said and I elbowed her. "What!" She responded.

"That probably isn't." He said sounding skeptical. "I knew you had the Sight, at least," he said to Clary. "And you showed you had as well," he said to me. "It's nearly dark. We should go."

"We? We are not going anywhere." I said defensively.

"I thought you said you were going to leave me alone?" Clary told him.

"I lied," not sounding the least bit embarrassed. "Hodge said to bring you into the Institute with me. He wants to talk to you. And you as well Lynnie."

"Why?" I asked in a crisp tone.

"Because you both know the truth now," Jace said. "There hasn't been a mundane who knew about us in at least a hundred years."

"About us? You mean people like you. People who believe in demons."

"People who kill them," said Jace. "We're called Shadowhunters. At least that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names."

"Oh for all of the angels in heaven you sound psychotic." I commented. Jace chuckled I can't understand why, but he did. "I'm gonna go on a hunch here, Downworlders are the run of the mill evils in this world. Vampires, werewolves, warlocks, fairies basically all the mischief causing beings in horror movies and the story books."

"There's a little bit more to it than that, but you got the concept. Look, Hodge will explain all this when you see him."

"We're not going to see him." I said crossing my arms over my chest again.

"That's your problem. You can either come willingly or unwillingly." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh, I'm so scared. I'm practically shaking. Look, kid, I gotta hand it to ya, you look dangerous enough, but you will not get off with threatening my sister." I glared at him and he wasn't perturbed one bit.

There was a buzzing in my back pocket. "Go ahead answer it." Jace said cockily and I glared at him as I pulled it from my back pocket and slid it open pressed it to my ear not even checking who it was just knowing, Xander knew better than to call me the day after a stunt like last night's.

"Mom?" I asked.

"Oh, Lynnie. Oh, thank God." Alarm traveled down my spine as I hear the tone of her voice. She sounded panicked. "Listen to me—"

I began to try and calm her. Despite our fighting, when I'm being agreeable she and I get along rather well, but our personalities are polar at other times. "It's all right, Mom. We're fine. We're on our way home—"

"No!" Terror scraped Mom's voice raw and I held phone harder to my ear gripping it tightly. "Don't come home! Do you understand me, Lynnie? Don't you dare come home. You girls go to Simon's go straight to Simon's house and stay there until I can—" Shattering in the background interrupted her. Horror was written plainly in my features.

"Mom!" I shouted. "Mom, are you all right?"

There was a buzzing on the other line. Her voice was cut with the static, "Just promise me you won't come home. Take your sister to Simon's and call Luke—tell him that he's found me—" He voice was drowned out by a crash like splintering wood.

"Who found you?" I asked collectedly I don't need to loose it. My phone has been on speaker this entire time, the conversation for both Clary and I to hear. She snatched the phone away, "Mom! Mom! MOM!" She screeched into the phone. Mom's voice was eerily calm, "I love you, girls."

The phone went dead. Clary threw my phone and broke into several pieces.

I gripped her shoulders and had her face me through the tears. "Clare, you're going to go back to Simon's with him and wait for me there. I'm going to check out what happened at the house." I told her in a calm voice, but I felt like ripping whom ever is causing this into tiny peaces whoever this 'he' that found mom is.

"I'm coming with you." She argued.

"I gotta keep you safe, Clare, do this for me." She shook her head and when Jace called her name she already had her phone in hand and was repeatedly dialing the house, but I had a feeling that she wasn't gonna get anything. I knew something was wrong.

She dropped her phone through shaking fingers and it broke just like mine. Unsalvageable. She then rounded on Jace to give her, his phone and his repeated answer was that he didn't have one.

"Tell me what happened first. I can help you." He told her and in her rage, she struck out at his face. Her nails raking his cheek and he jerked in surprise and she ripped something from him sprinting the direction of the house. Both Jace and I ran after her. I cut off to take a short cut and quickly climbed a tall fence and hoisted myself over jumping down effectively. I found that Jace took the same route I had.

I bound through the yard, I knew better than to yell for her, if whatever was after Mom was still here I didn't want to alert of my arrival. I went in the back way and took the stairs two at a time. I found that our door was already slightly ajar and I pushed it open. I grabbed my field hockey stick that was leaning against a shelf and walked silently, I was worried. God, I was so worried.

I heard Clary scream and the time for being careful was over and I ran to her. She was lying in Mom's room on the floor with a huge black thing which was the best way to describe it on beside her, without a doubt, dead. She was covered with some slimy stuff covering her.

"Oh, my God." I gasped.

Jace didn't hesitate as I had and scooped her up bringing her out the front. That's when I heard the sirens.

Clary stirred and I thought my heart just about stopped to know that she wasn't dead. "Don't move." Jace warned her. She was lying on grass behind the foliage, to not to be noticed by the police.

"I told you not to move," Jace hissed. "The Ravener demon got you in the back of the neck. It was half-dead so it wasn't much of a sting, but we have to get you to the Institute. I'm sure your dear sister, doesn't have any objections now." Despite the situation I saw one corner of his mouth twitch.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure, 'my sister got attacked, by the Ravener demon, can you help her' would go over real well. I would be sent to the psyche ward before I finished the sentence."

"That thing – that monster – it talked."

"You've heard a demon talk before." Jace told her gently.

"The demon in Pandemonium—looked like a person." Clary said and I stopped them there.

"Hold on a minute. That's where you met Jace, at Pandemonium, while he was killing a demon that looked like a person? And secondly, this is the second demon you've come across. That's it, you, are not leaving my sight. I can't bare to lose you." I said. Jace tied a cloth to her neck with something that looked like salve Mom used for her much turpentine and paint abused hands to make them soft.

"It was an Eidolon demon. A shape-changer. Raveners look like they look. Not very attractive, but they're too stupid to care."

Clary heaved herself into a sitting position. "The police are here, maybe we should—" She croaked out.

Jace cut her off. "There's nothing we can do. Somebody probably heard you screaming and reported it. Ten to one those aren't real police officers. Demons have their way of hiding their tracks."

"No argument from me there." I said as I glanced at the officers. I saw a slim blond and her hand was fleshless, completely skeletal. That's terrific.

"My mom," Clary forced out.

"There's Ravener's poison coursing through your veins right now. You'll be dead in an hour if you don't come with me." He got to his feet and pulled her upright.

"We'll find her Clare. After all this is sorted out, okay?" I was placating her at the moment. 'We' are not going to be doing anything. 'I' am going to find this out without putting Clary in danger. I want to keep her as safe as possible.

Clary looked up and saw what I had. "Her hand—"

"I told you they might be demons." He glanced at the back of the house, "We have to get out of here can we go through the alley?"

She whimpered and I knew she was in pain. He gripped griped her wrist turning the white vulnerable part up, and put what looked like overlapping circled resembling a tattoo, but I know better from our earlier chat. He caught her just about the time when she was going to collapse.

He made a hand motion and I knew he wanted to do the same thing. I gave him my wrist. "If this thing does anything to me or my sister, you are in for it Jace." I warned.

He swung Clary lightly into his arms. "This will hide you…temporarily." I saw him close up a blade and slide it into his belt, "My stele," he told me and I just nodded to acknowledge.

"She better be all right, because who ever is responsible better hope that I never find them if she's not." I said in my coolly calm and right now deadly tone.