She hated nightclubs. She hated them with a passion.

The whole atmosphere is sickening. The lights are too dark and too brief for one to fully see who's grinding up on them, and everyone's closely packed in like sardines, refusing to provide space for movement besides the sexual kind. The drunker the people get, the more volatile their actions become, and the more their reality starts turning into a nightmare. The shorter the skirt, the more people tried to intrude on one's personal air becomes stale with each new addition to the mass gathered for a night of temporary bliss, and tempers fly the moment a drink slips out of a fumbling hand.

Back at the bar, the drinks were overflowing from the glasses, and the bartenders were struggling to maintain the steady flow of alcohol switching hands. People pushed and shoved in line, while others flirted and swooned with those surrounding them.

"Ex-cuuuse me! Where's my cocktaa-illll?"

A young woman rolled her eyes as she slid a pink Cosmopolitan over to a giggling brunette, her breasts barely held in place by the blue string of rags she dared to call a dress. "Oh my gosh, could you guys be any slo-wer?" She sang drunkenly. "What's a girl gotta do to get her order on time?" The woman toddled off to a booth and slid herself in next to a bulky guy with 'sleaze' written all over him.

Dionysus would hate this place, Clary thought miserably. Too low class for his tastebuds.

Of all the jobs she could've picked, Clarissa went for the one with the least pay, the latest hours possible for duty, and the worst clients to tend to. It's not like she was under qualified for the high paying jobs; her brain held thousands of years' worth of knowledge, making her abundantly more qualified than anyone else on the face of the earth.

Well, anyone mortal that is.

The only advantage this job had was that the nightclubs were almost always packed, which meant plenty of emotions and desires for her to feast on in the short amount of hours she worked. Clary pulled the black cloth off her shoulder and wiped down the marble bench, staring grimly in the dark at the mass amount of bodies laid out before her. She would've preferred going in as a criminal lawyer, doing some real work and laying the law down heavily. But that meant settling down, getting a permanent residence, forgery, and long hours spent working on paperwork.

And by the gods, she hated that stuff with a vengeance.

"I could be lounging up top in my house," she muttered miserably, tightening the black apron around her waist as she cast a glance upwards. "All I was going to do was stay and sleep for another few months. But no, the Queen of the Heavens herself had to kick everyone out of Olympus for her anniversary."

Clary huffed and slammed the rack of clean glasses down on the back bench. A lone woman ambled her way over to Clary, dropping her body on a barstool and slumping down on the tabletop. Her entire persona screamed 'bad break-up' in Clarissa's eyes; while the maroon dress was beautiful and modest, with lace sleeves and a plunging back line, her make-up was little smothered around the eyes, with wisps of hair escaping from the elegant chignon at the nape of her neck.

"What's your poison?" she asked, rubbing her fingers together for warmth. After handling a lot of cold drinks, her fingers had started go numb. She had as much love for the cold as she did for paperwork.

"Vodka," she bawled pathetically, slipping a twenty-dollar bill on the bench. "A lot of it."

"Coming up." Clary reached under the counter and pulled up a freshly cleaned glass, reaching behind her to grab the bottle of vodka from the cabinet and poured some into the glass. "Bad break-up?"

The woman baulked at her words. "It's not exactly a break-up" she teased pathetically. "But it's definitely in that general area."

You're practically the embodiment of a broken heart, Clary thought with cruel amusement. "Well, the best thing to do is to get it all out in the open. Unwind and just let the chips fall where they may."

The girl bit the inside of her cheeks as more tears began to flow down her cheeks. "I hate men," she choked. "I hate them. They ruin you, they use you for entertainment, and they don't give a flying crap about your feelings. We're nothing but a game to them."

Artemis could've told you this a long time ago, child. Clary braced her hands against the bench and looked the woman up and down, analysing her entire being.

The blonde locked eyes with Clary's eyes and wiped away her tears with a napkin. "I'm sorry for unloading this on you," she said sorrowfully. "I must be annoying you, huh?"

You should've seen the lines back in Alexander's time, Clary reminisced nostalgically. The number of prayers I received from women begging me to curse their cheating husbands with genital warts were numerous.

"How bad?" She said, more out of curiosity than concern.

The woman downed the alcohol in mere seconds and looked up tearfully at Geo's face. She raised one flimsy hand and pointed behind her. Clary brushed her dark curls out of her eyes and watched a handsome man revelling in the attentions' of two young girls, one of them being the same obtuse redhead that had been whining about her services. She already exchanged partners as quickly as Clary changed money.

"He hasn't even noticed me," the blonde continued bawling, slumping further on the tabletop. Her mascara was beginning to run beneath her eyes, staining her cheeks with thick black streamlines. She began to blab away to the bartender, dumping all her worries on the woman before her. "It's my night off, you see, and I've been having a rough week, so I thought we'd go out for date night. He told me he was sick and couldn't make it, so I decided I'd just come out for a drink by myself and call my friends up later. And then I find him slobbering over those girls on the floor once I walk through the door. I've already sent him several texts to see if he would do something, but he just looked at the caller I.D and put it back in his pocket."

The immortal bartender shook her head solemnly, refilling her glass for her. "Well, men are pigs," she said harshly, feeling pity for the poor girl before her. "They only have two things on their mind; money and sex. Believe me, I know."

More tears spilled down her cheeks as Clary's words hit home. Maybe I should have been a bit more gentle, she thought as she reached up to massage her neck. Another customer caught her attention and she began to make his order, pulling out an assortment of drinks as she mixed it all together on a bed of ice.

"I wish he knew how shameful I feel," the woman cried clutching her glass in her hand. "I wish he knew how much he hurt me. How much he's hurting me right now."

Clary bit the inside of her cheeks and looked up at the girl before her. She could feel a spark of vengeance, her essence - light up within the wretched soul laid before her. She continued shaking and mixing the drink together, pouring the contents in a cocktail glass and handing it over to the man who ordered it. She set her sights back on the blonde, whose cheeks were beginning to flare up.

Clary reached out for the blonde's glass and pulled it towards her. "What's your name?"

The blonde eyed the glass with dazed eyes. "Mia. Mia Wayne."

Clary continued pouring the drink, eyeing up the blonde with blank eyes. "Drink up." The blonde nodded gratefully and reached for the glass, throwing the drink down her throat.

A small, sincere smile made it's way onto Clary's face as she focused her attentions on the girl. With her God's Eye, Clary used a partial amount of her power to watch a rerun of the woman's primal memories, watching it play like a documentary. She watched the memories of her as a young girl, her household suffering from financial and domestic issues. Teenaged Mia had it a bit easier, with a few choice friends coming in to support her during her trials. Her current job was crappy, but she was doing the best she could with what she had. And then the boyfriend came along, an angel sent from above in Mia's eyes; spoiling her and taking her out to fancy dinners, always showing her off at every opportunity. For once the girl felt proud of herself. But as their relationship progressed, the boyfriend started to slack off, showing the telltale signs of boredom towards the blonde. She'd tried to ignore them, persuading herself that he was just tired from work, but she could only tell that lie to herself in the mirror for so long.

Clary blinked her eyes and the memories stopped rushing into her head. This poor girl had been cursed with more bad luck than most, and Clary felt sympathetic for the poor girl. She admired the girl for all her sacrifices she made in life, the trials she'd overcome to get where she was right now.

She looked back at Mia and stared her straight in the eye. "Now, you listen here," she said calmly and soothingly. "My advice for you tonight is to go home. If that man over there doesn't have the decency to be upfront with you, then you clearly deserve a better man than that walking piece of trash. You're strong already, so this accident tonight will just build-up on that foundation already.

The blonde looked at Clary with complete trust and wiped away her tears. "Really?" she sniffed, dabbing away with the napkin.

Clary nodded, feeling warmth pool in the pit of her stomach."Wholeheartedly."

She stood up off her barstool and smiled apologetically at Clary. "Sorry for dumping my troubles on you."

Geo smirked. "Don't worry. Now scatter, I've work to do."

And a soul to adjust.

Clary finished her shift a little earlier, heading into the staff bathroom to fix her appearance. By godlike standards, she was striking. Not quite on the same beauty playing field as the Goddess of Beauty herself or the Queen of Heaven, but they were noticeable enough, giving her doll-like qualities; red hair with the odd copper highlights down the bottom, set in loose curls and shiny as ever. Emerald eyes set in a heart-shaped face, with a dainty nose and full lips that were either pursed in annoyance, or slanted up in amusement, but still desirable to the minds of mortal men. Her build was a small, petite, but her form was filling and she had definite curves that made taller women envy her.

Clary fluffed her hair over her shoulders and tugged her maroon leather jacket over her shoulders. Fashion trends had evolved many times over the centuries. Some decades she was bewildered and disgusted by the scraps they wore, other years she would be envious and would often sneak down to the world below to update her wardrobe. Underneath she wore a high-collar black chiffon top paired with form-fitting denim jeans and studded Jeffrey Campbell boots, adding a bit of glitz and glam to her appearance.

She tapped away on the mirror, muttering a Greek incantation beneath her breath. The surface of the mirror fogged up as an image of the boy who wounded Mia's confidence and emotional well-being. He was seated in a booth, surrounded on either side by giggling women who were dressed no better than prostitutes.

"Okay, Nemesis," she mumbled to herself, shrugging her shoulder and shaking her hands together. "Let's see what he's made of."

Her God's Eye came into action, but rather than previewing his past like she had with Mia, she looked at his soul altogether. Her eyes narrowed and her lips turned into a scowl as she recognised Tyche's golden blessing stamped into his soul. The Goddess of Fortune and Luck was fickle in her blessings, often choosing people at random and sprinkling too much 'good luck' on their thread of life.

"Useless," Clary hissed. "That woman needs to be under lock and key."

She reached out to the mirror, tapping her fingers against the mirror. She watched a few of his primal memories from his timeline, scowling as she saw how arrogant and prideful the boy had become over time. Everything came easy to this kid; his talents, his skills, his accomplishments were all thanks to the golden blessing. He knew not the meaning of hard work, having everything delivered to him on a gold platter with diamond flakes sprinkled on top.

"Let's see how much of your accomplishments are really yours," she muttered.

Ripples echoed through the image, and she watched as Tyche's blessing dulled in brightness, tempered by Clary's abilities as Goddess of Divine Retribution. Once the blessing had all but disappeared from his soul, she collapsed her God's Eye ability and watched the vision through normal eyes. The guy was shaking his head, a little dizzy from what had occurred.

Clary rubbed her hands together gleefully, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She hadn't had this much fun in the last few decades. She watched the effects of her tampering with his blessing begin to slowly take effect. His drink slipped out of his fingers as it clashed onto the table, with His raging temper turned the girls attentions away from him as they recognised what a complete imbecile he was, and one by one they fluttered away during the following minutes, leaving the guy alone with nothing but his bruised ego.

"Hmm… not enough," Clary mused out loud.

She watched the man stand up and shuffle out of the booth, picking up a napkin off the table. She spotted both his phone and wallet peeking out from his pockets and grinned. She reached out and snapped her fingers, watching the objects fly out and land on the floor. The man growled and reached over…

Clary tilted her head on an angle as she watched the procession, awaiting for the inevitable. Cute butt though, arrogant prick…

RRRRRRRIIIPPP!

Satisfied, Clary brushed her hand across the mirror, collapsing the vision and returning it to normal. She closed her eyes and let her senses range out, listening to a grown man cry out a string of obscenities. A wild laugh bubbled to the surface and she smiled, letting out a few sparks from her fingertips. That should even the odds now, she thought. She checked herself one final time, brushed her hair away from her face and waltzed out the bathroom, debating on whether to head back to the motherland to sleep at one of the ancient sanctuaries or go find some other poor schmuck who was kicked out of heaven to stay with for the night.

Romance hung in the air tonight.

Couples dallied about on the cobblestone streets, listening to the beautiful pieces played by French buskers. Women stood outside on the balconies of their apartments, looking down at their lovers who serenaded them from below with flowers, while others walked the streets hand-in-hand with their significant other, swooning delightfully as they breathed in the cold misty midnight air. Late-night restaurants flung their doors wide open, preparing only the best for the customers. The sweet scent of freshly baked baguettes and fondue wavered about in the air, capturing the attentions of all those who dared to pass any open door.

Of course, couples weren't the only ones flocking the streets that night. Groups of giggling teens raced along the cobblestones, playing beneath the Eiffel Tower in a game of tag. Men stood on the bridge, sipping away at their wine bottles as they recounted past heartbreaks from the sincerity of their soul. Families danced to the music played by street musicians, laughing merrily and without pretence. Churchly folk walked past the brilliant architecture of Notre Dame de Paris, offering up prayers of thanks and wishing for blessings on those less fortunate. Scooters and cars raced along the road, adding their own musical note to the symphony of the night.

Paris, as always, was accommodating to every whim and desire that Jace had.

From the heavens, one could see a lone figure lying on the marble stone that made the famous Arc de Triomphe, holding a delicate white rose in his fingertips. He was dressed in white v-neck, paired with a dark blue blazer, dark fitting trousers and leather timbalands. He had a grey scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, giving him all the appeal of a model. He had a golden halo for hair, and golden eyes that were as bedazzling as the rising sun. Sharp angles and full lips made the shape of his face, and his body was a masterpiece, beautiful beyond description.

Of course, what else would you expect from the consort of Aphrodite.

Jace twirled the stem between his fingers, his eyes roaming the skies above him. The Pleiades shone brightly that night, casting a glow upon the mortal realm below. He held the nose to his lips, the velvet petals brushing up against his lips. Desire ran through his veins. He was drowning in the need to feel, to touch, to tempt, to fall into a state of agonising pleasure.

The golden blonde pulled the rose away from him, closing his eyes as he let his sense range out. He could hear all the naughty little desires within the mortals below, their dark fantasies singing from their hearts. He sighed deeply.

I need a woman.

Now.

The God of Desire sat up and stood atop the Arc, stretching out his muscles within his back. He set his sights around the city of Paris, using his God's Eye to seek out his latest conquest for the night.

Ring-ring! Ring-ring!

Jace reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, sparing a passing glance at the caller I.D. "Bonsoir."

"So you are in France after all."

The blonde rolled his eyes as he inched forward. He stood on the edge of the Arc, his toes just hanging over the edge of the stone. "Does it matter?"

"Not really. You were always partial to the so-called city of love. A lot of easy targets there, if I remember correctly."

Jace couldn't deny his claim. The French were frank and straightforward, but the nation had advanced on the sexual frontier. The women of Europe were a different breed altogether, as if each individual had been made for the act of loving. They were beautiful in their own rights, classy and at the height of the fashion industry. But what made them all the more tantalising for the God of Desire was their native tongue; French, Spanish, Italian, Greek – these languages had a poetic flow. Even the other immortals fell prey to the seductive power their languages held.

"True," Jace admitted, peering down below. His senses were still reaching out as he searched for potentials, double-checking that none of them had his bloodline. Eros had fathered many children in the past, and the last thing he wanted to do was shack up with a descendant. "Was there a reason why you called me, Sebastian?"

"Nope. I had a bet with one of the other guys about which country you were hitting up tonight, so I just needed confirmation on the winner."

Jace rolled his eyes and ended the call. He placed the phone back in his pocket and held his head up, feeling the breeze toss his hair about. He heard a light giggle rise from the bottom and looked below. There was a couple standing below, wrapped in one another's arms. The woman was pretty enough, with a flamboyant personality and caramel brown locks twisted in a fish plait. She was slender, tall and graceful like a gazelle. There was an air of innocence about her, a pure sensation about her.

She'll do.

Jace crouched down on the edge and looked at her partner, pushing his blonde hair off his head. His eyes glowed fiercely and he whispered a string of words. He picked up the rose that he had abandoned and held it to his lips, blowing gently across the petals. The rose had a slight shimmer to it, with glitter dusted across the top. Jace looked back down at he girl below, arching an eyebrow as he stared below.

Weaken her mind, he thought darkly.

Let her be overridden with unspeakable desire.

Let her wild fantasies consume her.

Let her come to me.

He dropped the rose, watching it drift down to the feet of the couple. The man discarded the flower, keeping his attentions on the woman at hand. He watched with fervent desire as the girl picked up the rose, searching for the source of its appearance. He initiated his God's Eye and watched as her aura became tempered with fire and gold. He closed his eyes and watched with dark satisfaction as she began to push her partner away, lying to him and saying that she needed to return home. The man was confused but let her go nonetheless. The woman skipped away, running across the paved roads as she rushed away to her car. The man headed away in another direction, his head swimming in confusion over the girl's change in behaviour.

Jace smiled. He knew that the poor guy would end with a broken heart some day because of tonight, but he couldn't help it. That was just the kind of man he was. He helped the mortals give in to temptation, and he found pleasure in stirring up a bit of a storm in their love life. History had painted him as naïve god who simply used his powers on any random stranger, but the truth was he picked his targets carefully before manipulating them. He had a kinder aspect to himself, but majority of the time he just acted out on his lust-ridden needs.

The Greek deity unfurled his massive wings, a pearlescent white that faded out to gold near the primary and secondary feathers. They were impressive, strong and powerful. He leapt high into the sky, slicing his wings through the night air.

The car twisted and turned down the road, and he watched from the air as it travelled towards the Seine. He quickly touched down onto the ground and dispersed his wings, watching them fade away from existence. He stood by a tall willow, looking out across the river.

A few mortals passed him, giving him appreciative glances as they studied his build. Jace couldn't blame them. Who wouldn't want to admire his glorious build?

The car parked up a few feet away from him and the woman exited her car, her face marked with one of confusion and need. Her eyes were searching for someone and finally landed on him.

The golden-haired god leaned leisurely against the trunk, looking at the woman with an intense gaze. "Are you looking for me?" he whispered leisurely.

The woman blushed and looked around, holding the rose firmly in her hand. On closer inspection, Jace could see that she had a bigger bust than he initially thought. She swept the strays off her face and looked back shyly at Jace.

"I-I'm not sure," she stuttered, making her way towards the blonde. "I think I am."

Jace smirked, his gaze filled with hunger. He rolled off the trunk, his movements as sinuous as a cat. He moved towards her, emitting a sensation of warmth and comfort towards the girl. The woman looked at him apprehensively as he came within reach and he gazed into her caramel-brown eyes.

He held up her hand with the rose and brushed his lips across the back of knuckles. Heat spiked up from the woman's body, and he watched as she licked her lips. He leaned in towards her and whispered in her ear.

"Let me take you away, ma Cherie," he uttered amorously, brushing his lips against her beating pulse. "Let me give you a night to remember."

The woman melted at his words and she gripped his hand tightly as Eros pressed his lips against hers, securing his conquest for the night.