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     "WHERE'S ISAAC? HE'S MEANT TO BE WITH US!" CLARY HAD BEEN SAYING THE SAME SINCE THEY LEFT. She's been asking since she realised that Isaac wasn't with them, her last hope with knowing why and who she really was lay secret within Isaac. He knew more about her than what she did, to know that he wasn't with them somewhat worried her, though she wasn't sure as to why.

     The group had been silent for most of the way, they had borrowed some of the demon-powered motorbikes when they left so that they could get back to the Institute quicker. Though even still, none of them wanted to speak of how Isaac — the very being who killed one of them was so willing to put himself between them and the vampires. They couldn't think of what the vamps would do to Isaac for brining them there.

     Though they all knew that Isaac didn't exactly belong to a clan, they all couldn't think of what would happen anyway to a vampire who brought Nephilim to the clan base. A part of Alec wanted to go back though he knew that Isaac wouldn't last five seconds out in the sun. They would have to leave Isaac in a place where they have no idea what'll happen to him.

     "Clary," Jace begun, "he wouldn't have been able to come with us because of the sun. He would've died if he came with us."

     "He's probably going to die at either the hands of the vampires or the wolves!" Clary protested. "He's the only lead that I have for my mother."

     Michael had let out a small sigh. By this time they had left the motorbikes halfway down the Institute's street as they headed down towards the building. Simon was being helped by Michael as Clary and Isabelle kept watch.

     "He'll come back, he is still under the agreement," Michael added, "plus he seemed afraid to go to the Gard, either way he'll come back if he doesn't stick to it."

     "That is unless the vamps kill him." Isabelle pointed out.

     Both Michael and Alec seemed to somewhat tense at that. They hadn't thought of what the vamps would do to Isaac about what had happened. There was a small part of them which thought that maybe Isaac would manage to talk his way out of whatever the vamps plan to do – even if it was something along with death. Isabelle had noticed the visible tension which struck both of them, though didn't want to comment about it - it wasn't the time or place.

      The institute doors opened as the group had rushed Simon to the infirmary. Isabelle, Jace, and Alec all stood behind while Michael and Clary went off to the infirmary with Simon almost being dragged by the Verlac.

     After a moment, Jace had then let out a small sigh before following after them. The Lightwood siblings shared a look with one another though hadn't said anything. Isabelle pressed her lips together, a part of her wanting to ask what had worried her brother, though knew that he might not want to talk about it.

     Giving into what she wanted to do, Izzy asked. "You're tensed, you have been since we left the Dumont, why? Is it because that we left Isaac behind?"

     "Its because," Alec spoke, giving her a look, "we left the vampire who murdered a Shadowhunter and that same vampire who we are meant to keep watch on. We shouldn't have left him behind, now there's a chance that the Clave will now blame us that we let him go."

     Izzy crossed her arms. "It isn't like we had much of a choice, he would have burned in the sun. Hell, when he moved whatever was blocking the exit, it burned him. Isaac wouldn't have lasted five seconds in the sun without it almost killing him."

     "How do we know that he'll come back? That he'll keep his promise?" Alec shot, raising a brow. "How do we know that this wasn't part of his plan? Take the mundane and have that little red-head drag us to the Dumont just to save him, and in the process him forcing us to leave all while knowing the sun was up?"

     *****

     Thirst was all of which played on Isaac's mind, that and the fact that pain was all of which he could feel. Pain which would occasionally happen when Raphael thought it best, like with Isaac and his attitude. Which in reality meant pain was a continued thing to happen to Isaac throughout what seemed like hours.

     "Aw, are you getting tired?" Isaac questioned with a slight pout. He'd been chained up, his feet restrained to the floor which burned ankles - he thought that it might be UV rays which the Dumont vamps somehow got - his wrists were chained to his side and floor which had felt like weights. Raphael was stood with his arms crossed with another vamp beside him - who was a lot more muscular, despite the fact that vamps were normally thinner, still there was a part of Isaac which thought the vamp looked familiar.

     "No," the vamp spoke. Isaac believed his name to be Charles. Charles slight Canadian accent was still prominent in his voice as he spoke, though Isaac couldn't tell if he knew Charles. He seemed a lot bulkier compared to Raphael and Isaac. Charles was tall, his black hair hung itself by his ears, his stare was cold and dull though was full with hate. He tilted his head sideways. "Isaac Parker, it's so nice to finally meet you," a smirk was clear and prominent on his slightly tanned skin.

     "I would say its nice to meet you too," Isaac spoke, "but given the circumstances, I would say it's rather a dull meeting."

     A punch landed itself in Isaac's gut, making him let out a small gasp of pain. If he could, he would've thrown up. Isaac squinted his eyes, attempting to raise his leg though the chain which held him down preventing from doing such. He hissed. "Fuck you - whoever you are."

     Raphael seemed to somewhat smirk, though there was this unreadable expression laced within his eyes. "I suppose the old age has started to effect you, Parker."

     "I suppose you'll know that feeling in a few centuries, Santiago." Isaac spoke through gritted teeth. "Who's this dickhead? Couldn't do this yourself, or you couldn't pluck up enough courage to do this to your sire?"

     Raphael narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't say that I don't have the courage, it's just you've pissed off a lot of vampires, some of them who you've turned. Like Charles Harris, here, now he does have an interesting story."

     Isaac gave Charles a look, he recognised the name, yet the face wasn't familiar - though he believed he was thinking of Charles Fairchild. Too many names which ran through his head which ended with the vampire in confusion of who he was talking to. Unlike with Raphael and Magnus, they are what Isaac believes the people who he's all to close to.

     Charles cracked his knuckles. "You, Isaac Parker, made me an outcast of my family, made my family hate me for being the way which I am. You promised me protection, yet fled when you had the chance, you gave up on me when I needed your help with this life. You turned me into a thing which I wanted to be."

     Isaac's face softened slightly, if he had to be honest, he completely forgot about the others who he changed. Though he would admit there was a shot period of time in 1977 where it was a blank, as if there was something was blank. "When?" Isaac had questioned. When the two tilted their head in confusion as to what he asked, Isaac repeated. "When did I apparently ruin your life? The year?"

     "1977, right here in New York." Charles spoke, his eyes darkened as if his response unlocked more hatred than anything.

     Isaac had let out a small breath. "I was high, don't you know vamps can become intoxicated when feeding on intoxicated mundanes?" He then looked towards Raphael. "Don't you remember? Around 1977, a lot of vamps—"

     He was cut off by another punch in the gut. Raphael, giving him one last look, had walked out the room, leaving Charles and Isaac alone. There was a part of Isaac which couldn't blame Raphael for anything whether it was his attitude towards him or not, he somewhat understood. After all it was because of Isaac which made Raphael into an immortal bloodsucker.

     *****

     The group had gone to Taki's restaurant, Isabelle had to basically drag Clary away from Simon's side. Since there was no one within the institute who could cook without fear of food poisoning, they decided to go to Taki's. Plus Jace kept saying how he was hungry, though at the thought of food they all seemed to realise just how hungry they were.

     It hadn't exactly taken them long to get to Taki's, though when they arrived, they had been stopped at the front door by one of the slouching men who stood outside. As he straightened, the one thing of which could be noticeable was his dark red skin, his squared-off hands ending in blue-black nails. Clary had slightly stiffened, though the others hadn't seemed unconcerned. They said something to the man, who nodded and stepped back, allowing them to pass. 

     "Jace," Clary hissed as the door shut behind them. "Who was that?"

     "You mean Clancy?" Jace asked, glancing around the brightly lit restaurant. It was pleasant inside, despite the lack of windows. Cosy wooden booths nestled up against each other, each one lined with brightly coloured cushions. Endearingly mismatched crockery lined the counter, behind which stood a blond girl in a waitress's pink-and white apron, nimbly counting out change to a stocky man in a flannel shirt. She saw Jace, waved, and gestured that they should sit wherever they wanted. "Clancy keeps out undesirables," said Jace, herding her to one of the booths. 

     "He's a demon," she hissed. Several customers turned to look at her—a boy with spiky blue dreads was sitting next to a beautiful Indian girl with long black hair and gauzelike golden wings sprouting from her back. The boy frowned darkly. Clary was glad the restaurant was almost empty. 

     "No, he isn't," Michael spoke from behind the little red-head. Jace had slid into a booth with Clary going to sit beside him, yet was stopped by Alec taking her place. Michael had sat awkardly beside Alec as Clary sat on the other side with Isabelle beside her.

     "He's an ifrit," Jace had explained, continuing for Michael. "They're warlocks with no magic. Half demons who can't cast spells for whatever reason."

     "Poor bastards," said Alec, picking up his menu.

     At the movement of the menu's they all proceeded to follow as to what Alec had done. There were lists of raw meat, whole raw fish, and something called a toasted bat sandwich. A page of the beverage section was devoted to the different types of blood they had on tap — as well as various kinds of animal blood, rather than type A, type O, or type B-negative. The special was listed as Locusts and honey.

     "Who eats whole raw fish?" Clary questioned.

     "Kelpies," said Alec. "Selkies. Maybe the occasional nixie."

     "Don't order any of the faerie food," said Jace, looking at her over the top of his menu. "It tends to make humans a little crazy. One minute you're munching a faerie plum, the next minute you're running naked down Madison Avenue with antlers on your head. Not," he added hastily, "that this has ever happened to me." 

     Alec laughed. "Do you remember —" he began, and launched into a story that contained so many mysterious names and proper nouns that Michael knew that Clary wouldn't understand despite trying to follow.

     However what had made Michael seem uninterested with the story was the thought of what the hell might be happening with the supposed vampire which they left behind. He wondered as to what was going on with Isaac being at the Dumont, he'd hate to admit it but there was just that small part of Michael which was somewhat concerned about it. 

     Isabelle had given him a small look, wondering as to what was going through his mind. The female had then placed a hand on Michael, making the man look at her. She'd gave him a look as a way of which to ask if he was okay, yet all of which she'd gotten in return was a shrug — not one meaning "don't worry", more of the "I-don't-know" kind of shrugs.

     Abruptly, Michael had cut off Alec — not exactly meaning to. "What are we gonna do about Isaac?" When he had gotten the confused looks from the rest of them, Michael had continued. "I mean, what if Isaac doesn't come back for whatever reason? He's meant to help us otherwise he'd be sent to the Gard, plus wouldn't Hodge have sent a report to Idris about it, meaning that Idris envoys or whoever comes here, whether it be your parents," he looked between the two Lightwoods, "their first target would be arresting Parker, wouldn't it? Which would also mean we lose the one person who could help us find whoever put the block on Clary's memories."

     There were a few who had forgotten in the space of three to four hours about the vampire who basically saved them all from being dead. Jace had looked down slightly as Clary seemed to stare at Michael — it looked as if Clary had many thoughts running through her mind that she hadn't said anything. Isabelle and Alec both looked somewhat uncomfortable — though with Alec, he seemed to tense as soon as Michael had mentioned the vampire's name.

     "Not exactly," Jace mumbled, catching their attention. Jace had looked up at Clary before looking at the others. "When we went to the Silent City, where Simon was first kidnapped from which was why we had the vampire with us anyway. Clary and I found out a name in her head."

     "What was the name?" Isabelle asked, narrowing her eyes at the blonde.

     "The name," Jace began, "was Magnus—"

     Alec had shushed Jace, hitting Jace with his menu. Jace had instantly looked offended, though they could tell it was a small joke.

     Jace rubbed his arm, narrowing his eyes at Alec. "What's your problem?" 

     "This place is full of Downworlders. You know that," Alec told. "I think you should try to keep the details of our investigation secret."

     "Investigation?" Isabelle laughed. Michael had smiled at that. "Now we're detectives? Maybe we should all have code names."

     "Good idea," said Jace. "I shall be Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein." Alec had somewhat chocked on his water at that. 

     It was then that the waitress arrived to take their order. Up close she was still a pretty blond girl, but her eyes were unnerving— entirely blue, with no white or pupil at all. She smiled with sharp little teeth. "Know what you're having?"

     Michael had always been fascinated by Downworlders though he had tried to hide it in fear that others might judge him for it.

     They had all ordered, both Jace and Alec had wanted their normal — which was pancakes and coffee. Isabelle fastidiously ordered a fruit smoothie, Michael had simply asked for a coffee, and Clary, after a moment's hesitation, chose a large coffee and coconut pancakes. The waitress winked a blue eye at her and flounced off.

     "Is she an ifrit too?" Clary asked, watching her go. Michael had gave her a small odd look.

     "Kaelie? No. Part fey, I think," Jace said with a small shrug.

     "She's got nixie eyes," said Isabelle thoughtfully.

     "You really don't know what she is?" Clary asked.

     Jace shook his head. "I respect her privacy." He nudged Alec. "Hey, let me out for a second." 

     Scowling, Alec moved aside after Michael had moved. Michael had noticed the way of which Clary watched him after he sat back down beside Alec. Michael had no desire to watch the interaction between Kailee and Jace, there was always the lack of wanting to watch other people's love life play out.

     "He really shouldn't tease the waitstaff like that." Alec said, bringing Michael back into reality. "You don't think he means it? That he likes her, I mean." Isabelle shrugged. 

     "She's a Downworlder," she said, as if that explained everything. Though Michael clearly saw the look of confusion written on Clary's face.

     "I don't get it," said Clary. Isabelle glanced at her without interest. 

     "Get what?" Isabelle asked, almost without any emotion.

     Clary had then looked between the three Shadowhunters. "This whole Downworlder thing. You don't hunt them, because they aren't exactly demons, but they're not exactly people, either. Vampires kill; they drink blood—"

     "Only rogue vampires drink human blood from living people," Alec cut in. "And those, we're allowed to kill."

     "What about Isaac?" Clary asked. "Didn't he kill someone and yet he's still alive."

     "That's different," Michael told. "We could use Isaac as one of us, meaning that he has to do what we ask him to when it comes to situations where we can't get into. Otherwise we could turn him over to the Clave and let them deal with Isaac's punishment. All we've done is set up a compromise between us and him, he still walks free as long he doesn't kill anyone, in return he has to work for us. If he does kill another Shadowhunter, then there's a chance we kill him." He shrugged slightly.

     Clary had crossed her arms as she stared at Michael. She somewhat moved the conversation, though kept the topic. "And werewolves are what? Just overgrown puppies?"

     "They kill demons," said Isabelle. "So if they don't bother us, we don't bother them."

     Clary tilted her head slightly. "So they're good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you, good enough to flirt with— but not really good enough? I mean, not as good as people." 

     Isabelle, Alec, and Michael had all shared a look with one another before the then stared at Clary in complete confusion.

     "Different from people," Alec spoke up, finally. 

     "What, like better than mundanes?" Clary asked.

     "No," Isabelle said decidedly. "You could turn a mundane into a Shadowhunter. I mean, we came from mundanes. But you could never turn a Downworlder into one of the Clave. They can't withstand the runes." 

     "So they're weak?" asked Clary. 

     "I wouldn't say that," said Jace, sliding back into his seat next to Alec. His hair was mussed and there was a lipstick mark on his cheek. "At least not with a peri, a djinn, an ifrit, and God knows what else listening in."

     He grinned as Kaelie appeared and distributed their food. Clary regarded her pancakes considering. Michael had held the coffee cup in his hands — he didn't want anything to eat, he wasn't that hungry. He had felt a little bit to worried and stressed to even think about food. All he could feel was somewhat guilt, the guilt of leaving Isaac behind, the guilt of leaving one of the few people who could have helped Clary find her mother and knew the truth of Clary.

     Michael had never thought that within the short amount of time knowing the little female that he'd feel guilty. Though he supposed that it could be that there was some pull of wanting to protect her after everything which had happened to her. He knew that Shadowhunter life was shit, yet for a person who knew nothing of this world to then be dragged into it, Michael couldn't imagine how hard it could be. Especially when Clary's mother was taken and then she was attacked. It made him wonder how the hell she had managed to keep up within the small space of time between when she first saw them till now.

     What had brought Michael out of his thoughts was the sound of Jace speaking. "I enjoy the company of certain Downworlders at certain times and places. But we don't really get invited to the same parties."

     "Wait." Isabelle suddenly sat up straight. "What did you say that name was?" she demanded, turning to Jace. "The name in Clary's head." 

     "I didn't," said Jace. "At least, I didn't finish it. It's Magnus Bane." He grinned at Alec mockingly. 

     "Rhymes with 'over careful pain in the ass.'" Alec muttered a retort into his coffee. Michael had felt himself smile at that.

     "It can't be—but I'm almost totally sure—" Isabelle dug into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of blue paper. She wiggled it between her fingers. "Look at this." 

     Alec held out his hand for the paper, glanced at it with a shrug, and handed it to Jace. "It's a party invitation. For somewhere in Brooklyn," he said. "I hate Brooklyn." Michael had given him a look at that.

     "Don't be such a snob," said Jace. Then, just as Isabelle had, he sat up straight and stared. "Where did you get this, Izzy?"

     She fluttered her hand airily. "From that kelpie in Pandemonium. He said it would be awesome. He had a whole stack of them." 

     "What is it?" Clary demanded, slightly  impatiently. It made Michael grin in a way. "Are you going to show the rest of us, or not?"

     Jace turned it around so they could all read it. It was printed on thin paper, nearly parchment, in a thin, elegant, spidery hand. It announced a gathering at the humble home of Magnus the Magnificent Warlock, and promised attendees "a rapturous evening of delights beyond your wildest imaginings."

     "Oh great, here we come Magnus Bane," Michael muttered slightly.

     Alec blinked at it. "Does that mean we have to go to the party?" he inquired of no one in particular. 

     "We don't have to do anything," said Jace, who was reading the fine print on the invitation. "But according to this, Magnus Bane is the High Warlock of Brooklyn." He looked at Clary. "I, for one, am a little curious as to what the High Warlock of Brooklyn's name is doing inside your head."

     "If Isaac was here then he might know," Clary responded with her arms crossed.

     "It is a little concerning that both the High Warlock of Brooklyn and a two hundred year old vampire seem to have a connection with you, Clary." Michael spoke. "Maybe we could ask Magnus why that is. That is if he knows Parker."

     *****

     Blood was all of which marked Isaac's skin and coated his suit. He was pissed at that, the suit alone had cost him a lot — plus it was a gift from Magnus which meant that is was the best. His nose had been broken so many times despite it healing, he could feel and taste the blood which came running out his nose. He could sense that there was blood coming from the side of his head, yet wasn't that bothered by it. His body felt weak as if at any moment his body would give out on him.

     He tried his best to keep himself awake, despite the tiredness looming over him, though the pain which fuelled him was another thing of which kept him awake. Isaac wanted to fall asleep, yet everything within him was yelling at him to stay awake, that if he fell asleep then that might be it. He thought dealing with Camille would be a lot better than this — and he hated Camille, though he supposed that Camille wouldn't even bother raising a finger to stop any of this happening.

     In a way, he was glad that they had stopped with the torture for now. It gave him time to think about how much he hated everything at the moment. He was hungry, he was tired, and he was in pain. Isaac couldn't have thought of anything other than those three things, which hadn't helped him at all. It honestly felt as if any time that he thought about it, all of it got worse — if he thought of food, he'd feel more hungry. If he thought of sleep, he'd feel more tired. If he thought of the pain, the pain would get worst.

     He cursed at himself at the fact that his body decided to take a small break at healing. He had thought of the many times of which he had been in fights with others of his kind or maybe even werewolves, and how his healing worked then; and even the pain was bearable then. Though he supposed he then that he had food in his system and he wasn't feeling bad about himself then.

     Isaac had then heard the sound of footsteps coming towards him. He could barely look up properly without it hurting him a little. As much as he wanted to see who it was, he couldn't bring himself to look, or even speak for that matter. He didn't have that much energy to come up with something sarcastic to say to whoever was there, yet he could feel their eyes staring at him as if they were waiting for him to say something to them.

     "What, no sarcastic comment?" Lily Chen questioned. Isaac's eyebrows knitted together. "They did a number on you, Parker, that's for sure." Lily was now in front of him with his head in her hand, making him look at her. Her hair was dyed blue, in a way Isaac had liked it.

     "Did you just come here to point out the obvious?" Isaac questioned. He hadn't meant it to come out rude, though there was a small part of him which hoped that she hadn't taken it that way.

     "Nope, Raphael was just talking about you and I just thought to come see you." Lily informed. She then tilted her head slightly. "Though I cannot see why he hates you so much."

     Isaac was slightly taken back by Lily's slight concern. He had always thought that she never cared, though why should she? He had always kept himself to himself, had never thought it best to stay in a clan, and was the one of which always got into a fight. "Because I'm the one who turned him, remember? It was around the time that Louis Karnstein was here. He blames me for turning him to this goddamn form, making him basically watch as his family grew old. Though I would say that he tolerates me at times." He shrugged slightly.

     "Still," Lily shrugged. "Though the one thing of which I want to know is why you were with Nephilem?"

     "I killed one and instead of me going to the Gard, I work for them — get into places they can't and help them as much as I can. Plus I know Clarissa Fairchild and her family, therefore I am more of use, and they all probably think that I'll know where the Mortal Cup is — which I don't." Isaac explained and then shrugged. "I am of more use alive than dead. The Clave wouldn't want to risk that anyway with the information I have."

     Lily had somewhat smirked at that. "So you'll risk bringing a group of teenage Nephilem into the heart of this clan all because you don't want to be thrown into the Gard." She slightly pouted. "And I thought you were smarter, Parker."

     "How long have you known me?" Isaac questioned with a slight grin. "Since 1903, right? And all this time you thought I was smart?"

     Lily had giggled at that. Isaac had found that he enjoyed Lily's company. Ever since they had met around 1903 — Isaac had been asked by William Herondale years prior to help train his children when in battle against rouge vampires and such (which of course he agreed to as long as he didn't get stabbed), and he had stayed ever since — the duo had become friends. Despite not being within the same clan, there was the odd occasion where the pair would just talk.

     "Still, why risk coming here for that mundane?" Lily asked.

     Isaac shrugged. "I guess I don't want anyone else's blood on my hands, and Clarissa cares for the mundane. Plus, either way, the vamps would have been breaking the Accords for having a mundane in the premises, like you said before the fighting and what..."

     Isaac had felt himself drop in a way, he wasn't sure what caused him to stop speaking whether it be the pain or his tired state. Lily had given him an odd look, yet there was that part of her which was concerned.

     Lily had moved away from Isaac. "I'm going to get you out of here. Most of us are going to the party Magnus Bane is throwing tonight. For his cat — I believe."

     "Chairman Meow," Isaac muttered. He loved that cat, though the cat kept swiping at him at any chance he got, though it wasn't until recently that Chairman Meow began to warm up to him. "H-how?"

     "Unlike what you think, Isaac Parker, some of us need the sarcastic dumbass vampire to live," Lily said.

     "Like who?" Isaac asked, giving her and odd look. His voice sounded weak.

     "That cutie with the dark hair and nice eyes, and the other one." Lily's lips quirked at describing them. "Not as good looking as Brother Snackerin, but still."

     "Eh, Zachariah was cuter before the entire Silent Brother thing." Isaac shrugged.

     "For now, rest, I'll send someone to free you," Lily said. "Raphael and Charles will not bother you for the rest of today, if you need to sleep then do that, it may help with the pain."

     "Thank you, Lily Chen." Isaac spoke as Lily left Isaac alone. Despite the way of which he was chained, he tried to sleep.

     *****

     Midnight had come round either too slow or too fast, depending on the person, though if Michael had to be honest, it felt rather too slow. Though nonetheless, the group had made their way to Magnus Bane's party. Simon — who had woken up three hours prior to them leaving — had argued his way into coming, despite the four Shadowhunters plus Clary telling him that he didn't have to. Yet there Simon Lewis was, walking down the street with them. Clary was in a constant state of worrying about him whether or not he hadn't been kidnapped by vampires again.

     "This building," Jace said, pointing at the red brick warehouse. "Is this the one?"

     The group had made their way to this red brick warehouse which didn't seem as if a party was meant to be. Some of them had still been worried about the safety of their vampire ally, who still hadn't found his way back to the Institute when the sun went down, they had hoped that Isaac had made his way back before they left. Yet he never. Jace had joked that maybe the vampires had killed him, only to get multiple looks from all of them.

     Clary exhaled. "I think so," she said uncertainly. "They all look the same." 

     "One way to find out," said Isabelle, mounting the steps with a determined stride. The rest of them followed, crowding close to one another in the foul-smelling entryway. Michael wanted to gag, he was never one to go to a party, and yet here he was standing waiting to go into a crowded area.

     A naked bulb hung from a cord overhead, illuminating a large metal-bound door and a row of apartment buzzers along the left wall. Only one had a name written over it: BANE, there was also a worn out signing of PARKER written on it, which made the group think that maybe those two had more of a history than they thought. Isabelle pressed the buzzer. Nothing happened. She pressed it again. She had went to press it a third time when Alec had caught her wrist. 

     "Don't be rude," he said. She glared at him. "Alec—" 

     The door flew open. A slender man standing in the doorway regarded them curiously. It was Isabelle who recovered herself first, flashing a brilliant smile. "Magnus? Magnus Bane?" 

     "That would be me." The man blocking the doorway was as tall and thin as a rail, his hair a crown of dense black spikes. Clary guessed from the curve of his sleepy eyes and the gold tone of his evenly tanned skin that he was part Asian. He wore jeans and a black shirt covered with dozens of metal buckles. His eyes were crusted with a raccoon mask of charcoal glitter, his lips painted a dark shade of blue. He raked a ring-laden hand through his spiked hair and regarded them thoughtfully. "Children of the Nephilim," he said. "Well, well. I don't recall inviting you."

     Michael had stared at Magnus, he was cute, for a warlock. Yet Michael had barely met any Downworlder, but even so, there was sill a part of Michael which hadn't expected Magnus Bane to be as cute as he originally thought.

     Isabelle took out her invitation and waved it like a white flag. "I have an invitation. These," she indicated the rest of the group with a grand wave of her arm, "are my friends."

     Magnus plucked the invitation out of her hand and looked at it with fastidious distaste. "I must have been drunk," he said. He threw the door open. "Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests. I don't need anymore Downworlder-Shadowhunter trouble, especially tonight." 

     Jace edged into the doorway, sizing up Magnus with his eyes. "Even if one of them spills a drink on my new shoes?"

     "Even then." Magnus's hand shot out, so fast it was barely a blur. He plucked the stele out of Jace's hand—Clary hadn't even realized he was holding it—and held it up. Jace looked faintly abashed. "As for this," Magnus said, sliding it into Jace's jeans pocket, "keep it in your pants, Shadowhunter."

     Magnus grinned and Michael had found himself grinning, Magnus had went to go up the stairs, leaving a surprised-looking Jace holding the door. "Come on," he said, waving the rest of them inside. "Before anyone thinks it's my party." 

     They pushed past Jace, laughing nervously. Only Isabelle stopped to shake her head. "Try not to piss him off, please. Then he won't help us." 

     Jace looked bored. "I know what I'm doing." 

     "I hope so." Isabelle flounced past him in a swirl of skirts. Magnus's apartment was at the top of a long flight of rickety stairs. Simon had hurried to catch up with Clary, who was regretting having put her hand on the banister to steady herself. It was sticky with something that glowed a faint and sickly green. 

     "Yech," said Simon, and offered her a corner of his T-shirt to wipe her hand on. She did. "Is everything all right? You seem—distracted."

     Michael had been the first one of the group to follow Magnus up the stairs, which resulted in the man to trip up once or twice. He could hear the muttering of conversation behind him, yet he wasn't that interested in it, all he wanted to do is do what needed to be done and then leave. Michael had hoped this wouldn't last long.

     The loft was huge and almost totally empty of furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows were smeared with a thick film of dirt and paint, blocking out most of the ambient light from the street. Big metal pillars wound with coloured lights held up an arched, sooty ceiling. Doors torn off their hinges and laid across dented metal garbage cans made a makeshift bar at one end of the room. A lilac-skinned woman in a metallic bustier was ranging drinks along the bar in tall, harshly coloured glasses that tinted the fluid inside them: blood red, cyanosis blue, poison green. Even for a New York bartender she worked with an amazingly speedy efficiency—probably helped along by the fact that she had a second set of long, graceful arms to go with the first.

     The rest of the crowd was just as strange. A good-looking boy with wet green-black hair grinned at Clary over a platter of what looked like raw fish. His teeth were sharp and serrated, like a shark's. Beside him stood a girl with long dirty-blond hair, braided with flowers. Under the skirt of her short green dress, her feet were webbed like a frog's. A group of young women so pale Clary wondered if they were wearing white stage makeup sipped scarlet liquid too thick to be wine from fluted crystal glasses. The centre of the room was packed with bodies dancing to the pounding beat that bounced off the walls, though Clary couldn't see a band anywhere. 

     "You like the party?" She turned to see Magnus lounging against one of the pillars. His eyes shone in the darkness. 

     Glancing around, she saw that Jace and the others were gone, swallowed up by the crowd. She tried to smile. "Is it in honour of anything?" 

     "My cat's birthday." 

     "Oh." She glanced around. "Where's your cat?" 

     He unhitched himself from the pillar, looking solemn. "I don't know. He ran away."

     *****

     What had brought Isaac out of his shitty sleep was the sound of the chains which bound him to vanish from his wrists. In a way he felt lighter if that was even possible. He hadn't noticed how much pain he was in, he knew that the pain was bad but it wasn't this bad. As soon as the chains were off him, he had fallen to his knees.

     Isaac had felt a pair of hands grab his arms. "Up, Parker, come on," the voice spoke. Isaac had recognised the voice, yet he wasn't sure if it was his mind playing tricks or not.

     In front of him was a young woman, maybe nineteen or twenty appearance wise. Her hair was long and brown while her green eyes had stood out against her pale skin. Isaac couldn't remember her name, yet knew she was familiar to him.

     "Sorry, I just need a moment," Isaac spoke.

     "We don't have a moment, there are still one or two vampires here and I don't thin that they'll be pleased that the vampire which brought the Nephilem had escaped," the woman spoke. She the paused to take a proper look at him. "You look like shit, Isaac."

     Isaac scoffed at the comment. "Thanks, it wasn't like I was beat up by someone who I turned or anything."

     "And you wonder why our kind doesn't like you that much," the woman spoke.

     "No, I think it's because I get into a lot of fights and everyone thinks that I'm part of this clan, therefore this clan will get a lot of shit." Isaac tried to correct. "Though I suppose, you are right." He then looked up at her. "What's your name again? Sorry, I recognise you, yet I can't put a name to your face."

     "Hollie Chantel. I helped you when you first turned." Hollie explained.

     Isaac nodded at that. "Thank you. For that and now this."

     Hollie smiled. "It's okay, you were always nice to me, even when you were human. Though I am sorry for not stepping in with Raphael and Charles."

     "Don't worry, I'm not going to hold it against you," Isaac spoke, smiling at her. He had then gotten up, with the help of Hollie. He wobbled slightly, though Hollie had insisted to use her to put most of his weight. Which he did.

     "Where do you need to go?" Hollie asked. "Is there a safe place where you can go?"

     "New York Institute." Isaac spoke. Hollie had given him a confused and a more worried look. "I have a deal there, I can't back out of it. Clarissa Fairchild needs me."

     Hollie hadn't said anything. She hadn't had the time to properly catch up with Isaac over the past decade, yet the sound of urgency when he spoke the Nephilim name was something which Hollie clearly understood. The pair had then made their way out of the Hotel Dumont with a large amount of difficuly, and yet they still managed to pull it off.

     The journey from the Dumont had been a lot easier than getting out of the hotel, it was from there that they had used their vampire speed — though occasionally they had to stop when Isaac had let out a painful wince — to get to the Insitute. To Isaac it felt like forever because of the pain numbing his body, but still, eventually they got there.

     Hollie had practically dragged Isaac up the stairs of the Institute due to the fact that he had went limb all over causing him to basically fall. Hollie had banged on the door repeatedly until it opened. Hodge Starkweather was stood there shocked at the sight of two vampires — one limb and the other one panicked — standing outside the Institute.

     "Please, Isaac said that he was needed here. Clarissa." Hollie said, panic clear within her voice.

     Hodge despite his hesitation with allowing it, he had opened the door wider, allowing the pair to come in. "Follow me, I'll take you to the Infirmary and then I'll send a fire-message to the others to tell them that he has returned."

     Hollie had nodded. "Thank you."