AN: Woohoo! New story idea! I've had this one sitting in my head for a while and am finally able to put it into words! I have chapters on stand-by, waiting to post, so I'll be able to update more steadily with this one. :) I hope. -gulp-

ANY WHO. I have to do this so I'll do it now. "I do not own Maximum Ride," says Jezebel Raewin. "I do not own The Mortal Instruments or the world of Shadowhunters. They belong to James Patterson and Cassandra Clare respectfully."

Now for the fun part! Read on!

Chapter One:

The world's been safe for a while now, or so it seems. Here we were, back in New York ('cause one round of killer-headache inducing stress levels just wasn't enough) in search of . . .

"Food," Angel said, finishing my thought and answering the grumble from my hollow stomach.

"Where?" Asked the Gasman, turning his head rapidly.

"That's what we're looking for, Gazzer," I answered.

"Oh, Max," Nudge started, and I braced myself. "Can we, um, can we try that stand over there? Or that one, maybe? That one with the purple umbrella looks tasty. What's a gyro?"

"I smell honey-roasted peanuts," Iggy said pointing in the opposite direction. I sighed, looking to Fang as he shrugged. Great.

"We'll go to both places," I said closing my eyes and letting my mind form a map of where we were and where the closest park was. "We'll go get the gyros from over there, then the nuts and keep going down that street."

As I pointed in the direction of the honey-roasted peanuts, Angel's head whipped around, as if someone was calling her name.

"What is it, Angel?" Fang asked, lightly putting his hand on her shoulder – she was getting taller by the day it seemed. Now she was almost Nudge's height, though I was still taller than her (thankfully).

"I-I thought I heard my name. . ." she said, shaking her head. "No, it wasn't my name. Someone thought 'by the angel,' and I just barely caught it." She shook her head again, like shaking the thought away, and led us to the gyro cart.

"'By the angel,'" I thought, "who thinks that?"

New york is full of weird people, always has been, and most likely always will be, but I've never seen anyone with eyes like the guy who was at the Greek cuisine cart. His eyes were bright green and his pupils were slits, like a cat's.

I know it's rude to stare, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. . . The way he moved, the way his eyes looked through everyone of us,.

We got our food quickly and walked away. This time I shook my head to shake this weird feeling. I wish I could tell you that the feeling went away and we had a wonderful, happy time in New York and went on to live happly-ever-afters, but I've never had such luck.

Well? I hope you liked it!

Come back for more! It'll be up soon. Please review and ask any questions and let me know if you liked it at all. :)

Until next time,

~Jezi Raewin