Her muscles were aching, the pain getting to be excruciating as she dodged the blade that threatened to tear her into two pieces. Emily and her father had been at this for hours, doing the same things, every day, and it was starting to get old. Sure, she understood the point of it, and why he was so hard on her, but she didn't understand why he wasn't as hard on her brother. Just because he wasn't a fighter, like she was, didn't mean he shouldn't miss out on training. And it only made it worse when she was the only one being trained. In fact, it made it ten times harder.

Emily's seraph blade came up, blocking a slice from her left that her father tried, and dipped down, kicking out with her left leg and catching her dad off guard as she dead legged his right quad. He only faltered slightly, but while he was preoccupied with his balance she was able to wrench the seraph blade from his hands. It flew in the air; landing somewhere in the training room with a ripping sound as it sliced the training mats open.

She backed up as her father stood to his full height, towering over her, weaponless. Jace had always been stronger, taller, bigger, and even more cunning than her, but she was faster. Although he was in his early forties, he was still a master with a blade. Michael was like fighting a turtle compared to the lion that Jace was. His fair hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his muscles rose and fell with his steady breathing. He really was beautiful, and it was completely obvious why her mother fell in love with him. He was a jerk ninety percent of the time, but around Clary, he was a totally different person.

"At least you've finally gotten that figured out," Jace smirked as he rubbed his hair, only making it messier than it was before. "It only took you seventeen years."

Her free hand flew to her hip while her other twirled the blade in her hand. "I beat you, didn't it? That's more than Uncle Alec can say."


Jace and Emily both tensed, looking towards the open door of the training room. Emily tried her best to decide what would be the smartest thing to do. When her mother was angry, which never ended well for anyone who got involved, it was always best to hide away and be as invisible as possible. Jace was showing the same, conflicting emotion across his face. Ever since the whole fiasco almost twenty years ago ended, Jace had learned to lighten up. He wasn't as closed off as he used to be according to her Aunt Izzy and Uncle Alec. But Jace and Emily may be the strongest of the Nephilim, but neither was brave enough to go up against an angry Clarissa Herondale.

Just as they were contemplating what to do, none other than Michael himself burst into the training room. His blond hair was easily recognized, falling into his face as he ran with the look of sheer horror. His black t-shirt and shorts were flowing as he ran, and he skidded to a stop as soon as he saw his sister and father. Michael was much like Jace, while Emily was more like Clary. Michael had the build, the looks, and the same fear of Clary as Jace did. Emily was just barely taller than Clary, with strawberry blond curls that was currently pulled up into a bun, and few freckles danced across her pale face and arms.

Michael's green eyes locked with Emily's, and he let out a breath he seemed to be holding. "Thank the Angel, I need your help."

Emily and Jace exchanged looks, and shook their heads. "Sorry son," Jace said. "You're on your own when it comes to your mother. After the last issue we had between you two, I don't fancy interfering again. The couch isn't as comfortable as it looks."

"I know but–" He froze when he noticed the seraph blade sticking out of the blue training mat. When he noticed the blade in Emily's hand and Jace with nothing, he pointed with a questioned look on his face. "What–"

"Nothing," Jace answered quickly. Emily smiled knowingly, but didn't say anything. "What did you do to your mother this time?"

"Kaden and I were playing around upstairs, just fighting like we always do. He tackled me, and I kind of, sort of, slightly bumped into one of mom's new paintings by accident and–"

"You're so dead," Emily said. "How bad is it?"

"It's ruined," he muttered. "Paint splattered over the top, covering the whole thing a black mess."

Jace exhaled and came up to stand next to Emily. His presence was always reassuring, like if he was there, nothing bad couldn't truly happen to either of them. "Michael, just go to her and get it over with. You're only prolonging a punishment that you're not going to be willing to endure in the first place."

"Well, I was hoping you could help me Dad."

Jace pinched the bridge of his nose. "No matter how sweet and charming I am to your mother, somehow, she just doesn't fall for it anymore when she's beyond being reasoned with. I don't want to get on her bad side. Ergo, you're on your own."

"MICHAEL!" She sounded close, like she was just outside the training room door. Sure enough, just as Emily guessed, Clary rounded the corner looking more than incensed. She froze when she found her family, standing in the middle of the training room, but her green eyes flew right to Michael. "Michael, get over here, now."

Michael shook his head and ducked behind Jace, gripping his shoulders to keep him in place. Michael was barely shorter than Jace, by maybe an inch or two, but he had the backbone of a slug. "Mom, I know you mad–"

"She's more than mad," Emily butted in, but shut up when Jace shot her a look.

"– But I have a perfectly good explanation for what happened. Kaden and I were just–"

Just the look from Clary made him shut his mouth. With her hands on her hips, while being dressed in her training clothes, and the runes burning along with a glare on her face, she was definitely a force to be reckoned with. "Kaden has gone home, and Magnus and Alec are dealing with him. Meanwhile, I'm dealing with you. Now come along. You don't want to be embarrassed in front of your older sister, do you?"

"Oh, please punish him here," Emily begged. "Please!"

"Emily, be quiet," Jace ordered as he grabbed Michael, against the boy's protests, and dragged him towards the door. Apparently he chose the side of his wife instead of his kid, not that Emily blamed him. Michael eventually stopped, knowing that fighting would only make it worse, and he let Clary lead him from the room. Jace followed suite, and Emily was suddenly left in the training room, alone.

She sighed and headed towards the bench where her favorite leather jacket was seated. With one look at her phone, her eyes widened.

Four missed calls from Conan and a text? After reading it, Emily quickly grabbed her stuff and ran to her room in a hurry, trying to block out her mother's screaming but failing miserably.

Emily pulled up to the Hunter's Moon an hour later, turning her bike off as she propped it with the kickstand. She looked down at herself, and marveled at the sight. A pair of black skinny jeans and heeled boots covered her lower half, much to Isabelle's' liking, considering her Aunt bought her the outfit after Alec bought the bike. A simple white tank top wrapped her torso as she pulled her helmet up and over her head, and the sword was strapped to her back, the handle sticking up behind her right shoulder.

Her strawberry blond curls fell over her face and she pushed them back and smiled as a figure emerged from the bar entrance. He was tall, like all the werewolves, but different. Unlike most of them, he was somehow kinder, more relaxed, and sweet every time they saw each other. His dark hair was cut short, as he styled it up with gel. He approached her in a flannel and jeans, making it to where all he needed was a beard in order to be a really hot lumberjack.

Emily laughed at the thought, causing Conan's black eyebrow to rise up as he stopped a few feet away from her. "What's so funny?"

She shook her head and shoved the few pieces of hair out of her face. "Just something that popped into my head. Anyway, why'd you call?"

"Luke wanted to talk to you. He said it was urgent."

"He couldn't call my mom or dad?"

Conan just shrugged.

"Whatever, let's get this over with." She said as she slid off the bike.

Conan fell in step beside her as they headed towards the bar. "How is the Institute?"

"Deadly at the moment. Michael was an idiot and ruined one of my mom's paintings. I wouldn't blame him if he ran away and never returned."

"No one would," Conan agreed as he stepped up, opening the door for her. She thanked him before walking in, all eyes on her.

It was always strange whenever she came to Hunter's Moon. The eyes of the werewolves around always followed her when she moved. It was partly her fault, since she didn't even bother to cover her arms, so her runs were always on show, indicating that a shadow hunter was in the building. The place hadn't changed much since the last time she was here. Some lycanthropes were playing cards; drinking out of glassware filled with Angel knows what kind of drinks. Others were propped up at the bar, spilling their guts about the horrors of their life, while some danced, talked, or argued about one thing or another. The dim lights made it difficult to see clearly when the door shut behind her, but being a Shadowhunters, she had better sight than a normal mundane. Regular people couldn't have handled the smell either, which was a mix of smoke and alcohol that made Emily want to puke.


She turned towards the voice, smiling at Bat as he sat behind the bar. She meant to go talk to him, but Conan's hand descended over her elbow, dragging her through the tables towards Luke's office.

Luke's head was in his hands, his hair greying at the top of his head. He was dressed in a black suit, and Emily suddenly remembered why. Jocelyn had taken him to the art gallery that morning, and she was as bossy as Clary when it came to their husbands. He glanced up at the two teenagers entered, and Emily was happy to see him smile. It made his blue eyes light up more and his whole posture relaxed.

"Emily, I'm glad you could make it."

"What's going on?" she asked as she and Conan took the seats in the corner, away from the desk. It was a typical office, with a book shelf, desk, chairs, and it was a mess. Luke wasn't the neatest person in the world, and she could see why her dad didn't care for coming in here. He probably had a heart attack every time a dust bunny flew by.

"What makes you think something is going on?" he asked.

She glanced to Conan, who was fiddling with his hands and looking down, not meeting her gaze. She shrugged and glanced back at Luke. "Just a hunch."

After looking at Conan, who was visibly nervous, - even a mundane could see his discomfort – Luke nodded. "Well, there's no point in beating around the bush. I wanted to talk to you about something, and your parents don't need to know, understand? At least, not until we figure out what is going on."

Emily nodded, though she was more than confused about the situation. It was a big deal when Luke was secretive.

"You're very much aware that Jace has made his fair share of enemies throughout the years, correct?"

"I know my dad isn't the most loving person. I'm not oblivious to the hate my family gets from everyone on the planet, including some of your werewolves."

Luke looked slightly upset about that, but there wasn't anything he could say that wouldn't make it less true. Jace had plenty of enemies – Shadowhunters, werewolves, and vampires alike. In fact, if it wasn't for Clary, someone would've tried to kill him by now, not that any of them would've succeeded.

Luke glanced to Conan and then back to Emily. "I know that Maia and Jordan don't care for them–"

"It's more than those two," Emily said. "Bat, all of his friends, and a lot of the new guys don't care for my dad. Not that I blame them. Last time he was here he rendered six of them unconscious. Simon still wishes he would drop dead too."

"That's why Simon and Jocelyn get along so well." Luke seemed to smile at the thought of his wife. "But were getting off topic. Conan, if you don't mind…"

Conan stood suddenly, reaching into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Luke took it, flipped through a few things and handed it to Emily.

On the screen was a text from an unknown number.

Keep an eye on your Shadowhunter friends. Remember to keep you friends close and your enemies closer. They're getting what's coming to them, little werewolf, so stay away if you're smart about it.

Emily read it aloud, before looking at Conan with confusion. "This was sent to you?"

He nodded, but stayed silent. Like many of the young werewolves, he kept quiet in front of Luke unless told to speak.

"Jace and Clary haven't gotten any threats lately, have they?" Luke asked with genuine concern. And why wouldn't he be upset? His daughter was being threatened. "Nothing suspicious has happened at the Institute?"

Emily thought for a moment, but shook her head. "Ever since Grandma and Grandpa Lightwood died three years ago, we've barely had any action at all. The occasion demon shows up, but nothing big has happened since Dad killed Abbadon when he showed back up. The worst that's happened is a rogue vampire that bit Michael last month."

"Yes, that isn't very helpful at all," Luke muttered.

"I can talk to my dad, but you said to keep him out of this. And it might be Aunt Izzy or Uncle Alec as well. Mom and Dad aren't the only Shadowhunters around here that know the Kyle family."

Luke nodded, contemplating the situation at hand. It could be a number of Shadowhunters the text was threatening, considering that Jordan wasn't shy when it came to making friends with the species. He was more welcoming at least, and Conan was even more welcoming than his father.

"I'll speak to Jocelyn," Luke said. "But Jace and Clary don't know about this. I know my daughter, and she'll drop everything and start investigating if one of her friends is in danger. Let's not blow this out of proportion. The last thing we need is an investigation that isn't necessary."

"Well, that was nerve-wracking," Conan stated as the pair burst through the door to Hunter's Moon. The fresh air was nice, even though the clouds were blocking the afternoon sun. Emily stopped and glared at Conan, which he didn't seem to notice until he was a few steps ahead of her. With a frown, he turned and cocked his head to the side, his dark hair falling in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"How come someone texted you?"

It was curious. Conan had plenty of Shadowhunter connections, but he wasn't the kind to cause trouble with it. Not only that, but he's never even started a fight in his life, unless it's with a demon when he's hunting with Emily, Kadan, Karrie, and Michael. As she thought it through, it could have to do with her. They had dated before, but it didn't explain the text. It was peculiar. Not to mention his parents, Maia and Jordan. They didn't exactly have a lot of enemies other than vampires, but the vampires wouldn't go after the Shadowhunters.

Conan shrugged and continued walking. Emily bolted after him, stepping in beside him as he spoke. "The only thing I can think of is you. Someone must be trying to get to you by going through me. We are really close."

"But we're just good friends," she emphasized and even though a flash of hurt scurried across his face, she continued away. "What I mean is, why not threaten my parents, who are in charge of the institute? Why would they try to hide and beat around the bush? Have you tried to trace the phone?"

Conan nodded. "It was some crappy, go-phone from the early two thousands, that couldn't be traced. Someone bought the phone, and tossed it back after they sent the one text to me."

Emily's mind wondered as she grabbed her helmet and hopped up on her bike. The black Kawasaki was her prized possession. She loved how it roared under her, the speed it provided, and her ability to fly through the air and slice a demon's head off at the same time. She was like her father in that way. Blood always gave her a rush like no other.

"Emily." Conan was leaning on the bike, the front wheel between his knee as his hands covered the handle bars. She looked up at him, his brown eyes were shining and searched her face. "Please be careful."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I know you," he answered. "And you're just like Jace. He's impulsive, crazy, and has a lust for blood. I don't like the fact that you go racing off to fights all the time. I worry about you."

"Conan, stop." She dropped her helmet in her lap and looked at him with a hard expression. "You've got to stop. We broke up. It's done. You need to stop being the protective boyfriend, because you're not him anymore."

"I know but Emily, I miss you. I care about you and I don't want anything to hurt you. "

She looked up at him, and her heart practically shattered into a million pieces. Conan's eyes were like a puppy's, sad and worried, and she felt like he was staring at her with a look that could read every line in her face. His jaw was set, and she studied him against her better will. Dark stubble lined his jaw, a typical five o'clock shadow. He had a slight scar on his face, just below his right eye, from a fight with a demon a few years back. The memory brought Emily back to her first year of demon hunting, and the shocking realization that it was the same night that Conan had kissed her for the first time. She shook her head, refusing to go down memory lane.

"I have to go," she stated, and she slipped the helmet over her head. Conan didn't move until she started the bike and threatened to run him over with it. With a sigh, he stepped aside, and she felt his gaze burn into her as she flew down the streets.