CHAPTER 1

Chapter song

*Lighters by Eminem and Bruno Mars*

The homicide floor of the police building was as plain as could be, a rectangular room on the left of the elevator. The sounds of heels clicking on the polished wooden floor resonated throughout the hall and joined the clattering of keyboards and murmur of conversation, causing a few of the people sitting at desks to look her way. Clare Fairchild ignored the people sitting at each of the highly polished metal and wood desks, all perfectly aligned in the middle of the room. She kept her eyes averted, walking to the end where a wall of glass separated the floor from the Chief's office, the man she came to see.

Through another glass wall running across her right side, Clare noticed two men in what she presumed to be the break room through the open blinds. A black haired young man with his back towards her and a man in what looked like a laboratory coat, sporting light brown hair and rounded glasses on the rim of his long, thin nose. Their glass muffled voices reached her ears, laughs and light conversation discernible.

A quick rap of her knuckles, and the gravely voice of Hodge Starkweather asks her to join him inside. Entering the large office, she immediately focused on the man swiftly standing up behind the cherry wood desk. A sharply cut gray suit hanging onto his thin frame, fabric the same color of his laugh-lined eyes and elegantly combed thin hair. The slated color seemed to dominate this man, making him stand out like a faded portion on a sepia picture. A thin, outstretched hand shook hers firmly, the smallest smile gracing his thin lips.

"Hodge Starkweather." He said, introducing himself. Clare nodded briskly, storing his name in her mind.

"Clare Fairchild, pleasure." She murmured, retracting her hand. A polite hand gestured for her to sit down, and she stifled the groan of relief. She shuddered at the thought of bleeding all over the stainless floor; a heel induced ache had settled into her sore feet almost an hour ago and had only grew. Not wanting to wake Maia by going back into the apartment and digging through the shoe closet for another hour, she had decided to deal with it.

They exchanged pleasantries, making light talk of how she's adapting to New York after moving from London. She refrained from complaining about the rank smell that seemed to ooze from every corner. Coffee was offered and declined. She wanted nothing but to get down to business and go back to her apartment search. Currently she was crashing at her college roommates small two bedroom on the opposite side of the area she needed to live in.

Maia and her boyfriend, Jordan, lived in a pretty good neighborhood and they both had stable jobs, which made Clare feel even more like she was intruding on their lives. Judging by Jordans frequent absences from the apartment, he agreed. However Maia had been Clare's roommate when she had come from London to study abroad, and was quick to let her stay at her place in New york. But Clare couldn't intrude any longer, even if Maia denied the application.

"Why are you transferring to the NYPD?" Clare had been asked the same question by everyone she told about her job shift, and gave the same tight lipped answer to her family.

Clare crossed her legs, lacing her thin fingers over her knee to distract from the shadow that had no doubt crossed her face. "I need a new scene. Someplace where it doesn't rain 24/7." Hodge chuckled lightly, smile lines becoming prominent around his eyes. Clare reciprocated.

"I've read your file. You have a bachelor's degree in engineering, you were at the top of your class in the academy, spent six months training in hostage negotiations, then another six months in a bomb squad, even spent a semester at NYU, and your weapon expertise is impressive to say the least." Clare couldn't help straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin at the reciting of her accomplishments. Hodge glanced over at her fidgeting, a small smile finishing his words.

"Thank you. The degree in Engineering was mostly before I decided my career, but I've been dedicating everything towards this career in law since my freshman year in college." The crows feet around his eyes strained as he smiled.

"Whatever the reason for your transfer here, I'm very glad that you'll be joining our little family." They talked a while after that, discussing the changes of the London office to the New York one, and what kind of work she would be doing. It seems practically the same as her job in London, and Clare caught herself daydreaming. His voice ending brings her back to life, and she offered him a smile and a nod to make it seem like she was listening. Standing up, Hodge escorted her out of the office with a polite hand. Clare grinned to herself in satisfaction at herself for managing to get paired with a good head of the department, even though she had nothing to do with it in the first place. Hodge was respectable, unlike her previous chief who smelled as the gutters after rain.

The black haired boy from the break room turned to look their way, revealing shockingly electric blue eyes. A black gun and a silver badge outlined his upper leg, identifying him as one of Clare's new co- workers. His left eyebrow raise in a delicate arch at the sight of Hodges hand on the small of her back, and a weaker woman than Clare would have blushed at the insinuation.

She walked out of the precinct, almost stumbling on her heels as the cold, icy air kissed her pale face and bare neck. Clare wrapped her green scarf tighter around her neck, continuing forward on the cigarette littered concrete. She still had two apartments to view and she really wanted to get there quickly, but that didn't seem possible unless she kicked off the heels or at least changed into shoes that weren't absolute rubbish. Debating whether or not frostbite and disease were worth taking off the heels and going barefoot, her voice of reason was interrupted when she spied a small shoe store, elegant curling script printed in white on the little black awning. Oh, thank the heavens.

As she entered the golden lit shoppe, Clare immediately felt the affection physically wrap around her. The warm air hit her, and Clare welcomed it with a sigh. Unwrapping her scarf, she headed to the boots section while ignoring the display of heels. There was no way in hell she would leave this store in another pair of pumps, even if the sale tag on the strappy maroon pair called to her. That's what got her in this mess, a bloody sale.

Eyeing her outfit, Clare decides on looking for something brown to match with her dark blue jeans and grey blouse, as well as the long black coat now draped over her arm. Looking around, her eyes land on a pair of calf high, chocolate brown boots that look butter soft. She felt the thick black lining, eyeing the completely flat sole with satisfaction. Not an inch of heel.

A sweet voice called out to her beyond the stacks of pastel colored boxes. "I love your shoes." Here we go. Clare swore silently that if someone tried to sell her more heels she was going to lose it and throw one at them. Lefty was looking especially painful today.

Grinding her teeth, Clare turned to see a tall raven haired girl with dark brown eyes smiling triumphantly at her. She was wearing a dark red dress that barely hits her mid thigh. Clare wondered how she didn't have frostbite all over her bare legs. Isabelle was printed onto her name tag in curling black script.

"Oh thanks but I actually came to buy something, anything really, without a heel. I think the point of walking is to be able to feel your feet." The girl laughed and came closer to the gorgeous brown boots.

"Personally, I love high heels. These are probably the only shoes I would buy that don't have a heel. What's your name? And also, are you from the UK? You have a pretty strong accent." Isabelle looked down at Clare's feet while rattling on then pulled out a box, size 7. How in the bloody hell did she do that? Maybe those wicked long fingernails of hers could cast spells.

"Clare." Isabelle handed the red box to the redhead and smiled. "Thanks." A sudden flash of realisation struck Isabelles beautiful features, morphing them into a face of surprise.

"Aren't you Maia's old college roommate?" Clare raised a suspicious eyebrow at her statement, not able to stop herself from backing away in caution. How in the hell did she know that?

Isabelle's excitement faded into hurt and confusion at Clare's small gesture, then to understanding. Her full pink lips dropped into an 'oh' as she put her hands up. "Oh sorry, I just realize how terrifying that must sound! I'm not a stalker, I swear. Maia works with my brother, and she mentioned a british roommate and showed us all a photo of the two of you." Slightly put at ease, Clare took a closer look at Isabelles raven black hair that fell straight, creamy unmarked skin, and lean build. She looked exactly like the boy in the break room, except the difference in eye color. Maia does work with the NYPD as well. Could they be related?

Isabelle walked Clare to checkout after apologizing again. After Clare paid, Isabelle held her arm and supported her while she changed shoes. "Thanks. And to answer your question from earlier, yes I just moved from the UK."

Isabelle's eyes lit up as she let Clare straighten up. "You should come out with me and Maia tonight!" Seeing the dread pass Clare's softer features, Isabelle hastily added, "It'll be fun, kind of like an introduction to New York city life." Isabelle went into detail about some nightclub called Pandemonium, talking for what seemed like an hour just about sparkling champagne. At the end, Clare agreed just so she could make it to her next apartment viewing on time.

When Clare was able to feel her toes again, she walked to the last building on her list. She was scheduled to look at the last available apartment and that alone gave Clare a sense of purpose. The last one she looked at had been, in a word, horrific. So with all her heart, Clare prayed she would like this building. And luckily, so far she did.

This building looked pristine, set in the middle of a good neighborhood, within walking distance of the precinct. Trudging into the light blue foyer, Clare was a little disappointed to see there wasn't an elevator. Sighing, she starts her twelve flight ascension up the carpeted stairs. Clare was breathless when she finally walked to the door. At least if she got this place she would stay in shape.

The door had a brown paintjob and cursive black writing etched into the grained wood, spelling out different words in a middle aged motherly fashion. It was interesting. Rapping her knuckles on the door, she was greeted almost immediately by a thin blonde woman. Her body squeezed into a pencil skirt and blazer, the woman throws a red painted smile at Clare, stretching her already thin lips tighter. She balanced a tablet on her arm.

"Hello! You must be Clare Fairchild." The woman pulled violently at Clares outstretched hand. "I'm Avalon, Green Real Estate agent." Clare pulled away quickly, really wanting to put ice on her hand before it began to swell.

"Nice to meet you. What can you tell me about this apartment building?" Avalon was around Clare's age, probably not over 26. She took a deep breath and closed the apartment door behind Clare.

"Well let's start with the bad things. The next door neighbors are a very big pain. There's always yelling going on. That's actually why the old tenants moved out. Other than that this building is very secure, you need a key to the front door or someone to buzz you up. And yes, I left the door open for you earlier so that's why you got in. We are very close to the police precinct and I know you mention you work there, so that's perfect! Oh and we are very close to the shopping district and a pretty girl like you needs the latest fashion!" She giggled lightly at her own joke. This woman was the perkiest human being Clare had ever met. She wondered if she slept in a bed made of glitter and dreams. The thought made Clare want to giggle right along side her.

"Do you mind if I look around on my own?" Clare asked, hoping to have a minute to take in the apartment without the seemingly obscene cheerleader three inches from her face. The woman nodded and wandered off muttering something about finding the cookies, leaving Clare to turn and study the apartment.

The walls were repainted an off white and a plush looking carpet had recently been put in. A grey bar was stationed between the living room and kitchen, functioning as a shelf and breakfast bar. Looking around, she ducks into the large master bedroom, painted a lovely champagne color. The other bedroom is smaller, but still nice and painted the same color as before. There was a double door to a balcony, overlooking a good portion of New York city. The two bedroom apartment was huge and Clare was immensely grateful for her father and his money. Well, he was in jail, and he had no say in what she used his money for. At least she wasn't blowing it on shopping trips to Paris.

The kitchen was very modern. White cabinets, a silver refrigerator, black stove, and the top cabinet doors were made of glass with intricately thin spirals of wood. On closer inspection Clare could see the patterns embedded in the glass. Clare walked to the bathroom. The one bathroom outside of the master bedroom includes a shower stall, white sink, a mirror cabinet, and the white toilet. The apartment was quiet spacious.

Clare bought the apartment immediately, not wasting time waiting for another person to come and snatch it up. After hours of intense paperwork, and depleting her account to one third of its actuality, the agent hands her the keys and leaves her alone. Collapsing in a corner, she surveyed her new home. She calls Maia around noon and tells her that she would be moving into her new apartment by the end of the week. After a slightly too relieved response from her, Maia tells her that Isabelle had called and asked for her number to talk about going to club Pandemonium together. After tiredly agreeing, she hung up.

Clare had no furniture or cutlery or anything of any practical use, as a matter of fact she'd left behind half of her clothes and shoes with her mother. She reminds herself to call later and ask her mother to send them to her. She also mentally notes a furniture store she passed on the way over to the building that had a couch on display that looked adorable.

After doing a final inspection of every nook and cranny in her new home, Clare grabbed her coat and the shoes she dropped on the floor earlier, turning off all of the lights and leaving it behind. Sunset looked about an hour away, and Clare begrudgingly hailed a cab. Waste of money, but no way in hell is she walking all the way across the city. Especially in the dark.

The short, but more expensive than selling your kidney on the blackmarket, taxi ride led Clare through a winding of streets. Looking up Clare couldn't see stars only the reflection of light on the glass surfaces of the skyscrapers around her. London wasn't a small city by any means but there was more room for the people to live, to breathe, New York was crowded. It was loud and messy and Clare didn't feel at home. She felt like a stranger, visiting the city of bright lights and traffic jams.

She wonders if maybe curling up with a good book, a better cup of tea and headphones to avoid the incessant buzzing of traffic would calm her. Of course the lovely dream would have to wait, seeing as how she didn't have furniture or mugs in which to make her tea.

By the time Clare got to Maia's apartment, Isabelle is already there and dressed, her body fitted into the tightest and surprisingly modest of shimmery silver dresses and knee high black boots that complimented her disgustingly well. Her makeup is done in full, lips covered in a vivid colored lipstick that Clare couldn't pull off in her dreams. She looks up from throwing dresses at Maia, eyes lighting up.

"Thank goodness you're here! I was worried you would bail on us!" Isabelle said with a light laugh. Clare shook her head, dropping her coat on a nearby sofa.

"Not at all, I was just across town buying an apartment. Thanks for housing me, by the way Maia, but I will be out of your hair soon enough and you and Jordan can do whatever it is you pretend I can't hear at night." Clare said with a soft smile. Maia flushed and nodded fiercely, hazel curls bouncing around her coffee colored skin. Isabelle sighed loudly, dropping the multi colored dresses for a moment to study Clare.

"Your accent is so gorgeous Clare- what I would do to sound British." She said dreamily. Clare just laughed good heartedly in response, not sure what to say. Isabelle winked, a sparkle in her eyes. "The boys at Pandemonium are going to be tripping over each other to get a closer look at you." She announced, Maia following with an excited clap. Rolling her eyes, Clare falls onto the sofa next to Maia.

"So, I'm guessing you both have been debating what I'm going to be forced to wear tonight?" Clare asked, already knowing the answer. Maia grinned, reaching over and grabbing a hanger that seemed to be bigger than the dress hanging from it. It was ruby red, shorter than one of Isabelle's boots. Without even considering, Clare shook her head, looking appalled that the idea had even been suggested.

"I refuse." Isabelle and Maia begun to protest, but Clare brought her hands up to cut them off short. "First of all, I'm barely agreeing to come into this lionsden, so if I'm going, I'm dressing how I want to. Second of all, that's not a dress. That's underwear."

Not to Clare's surprise, it took about ten minutes for them to let her go dressed in jeans. With the exception that they were allowed to do her makeup and hair. That being the best deal Clare could make under the circumstances, she jumped at the opportunity. A mischievous light sparked in her friends eyes and she knew her mistake.

"You planned this!" Clare screeched, not particularly interested in sounding at all ladylike. Her mother would be shocked beyond compare if she heard about this.

"Clare, honey, you aren't exactly the type to let your friends put makeup on you unless you're getting something out of it." Isabelle was quickly becoming the most evil person Clare knew. Maia huffed her agreement.

Finally, she wrestled away from their painted grabby hands and escaped to her temporary bedroom. Stripping off the blouse and leaving herself in her lacy black tank top, Clare changed her jeans into darker ones that appeared more club-esque, mostly to please Isabelle, she headed to her vanity. A little more eyeliner, a refresh of her faint lipstick, she donned a gold necklace and put her new boots back on. Good enough. However, when she stepped outsides her sanctuary she was dragged right back in for touch ups.

When Clare finally returned to the living room, Maia is wearing a black one shouldered dress that goes well with her caramel colored skin. Both girls sighed at her underdressed state, even if she was more covered than both of them. Giving them both a glare, she silenced the protests before they came. "Can we just go?" Clare asked, placing a hand on her hips. They begrudgingly grabbed their purses, and they all walked out into the New York night.

Jace Herondale was sick of all the goddamn idiotic arguments with his girlfriend. Every time they fought it was always about something new and even more ridiculous. Last time it was about how he wakes her up when he comes home at ungodly hours of the night from work, the time before that it was about not getting her something big and flashy for their anniversary. This time it was about how he spent more time with Alec than with her.

Alec was his partner for the job she didn't seem to realize he had, it wasn't like he was ditching her to go drink in bars- well except for tonight, but then again it wasn't as if he could hang out at home now could he? Jace was a detective and he couldn't just disregard his responsibilities and duties to spend time with his needy girlfriend.

Currently, Alec and Jace had agreed to meet at a new club they had only been to a couple of times, Pandemonium. Jace may have been a huge party boy in high school and college, but once he entered the police academy he had to straighten up. A shudder ran through him as he reminisced of the first week at the academy, where he had shown up with a hangover. His commanding officer had yelled and made him run laps around school, which probably wouldn't be an issue if Jace could've stood on his own. For the next year of his life Jace didn't even smell alcohol. Even after leaving the academy and starting in homicide he still refused to drink more than two beers at one time.

The club was crowded as always and the alley, in which the entrance was held, smelled strongly of alcohol and body odor. Striding past the guard, Jace noticed the slight twitch in the burly man's jaw as he tried hard to keep his gaze averted from Jace. He must have remembered him from his last visit. Lets just say last time the guard had seen Jace, his slimey comment on Kaelie's outfit had earned him Jace's fist to his nose. And his girlfriend had still bitched because Jace refused to full on knock the guy out. Talk about cold hearted.

The guard waved him in, grumbling something under his breath that Jace refused to acknowledge, his mind quickly taken off it as the heady beat of the music coursed through him, the neon lights and the high that came off being young and beautiful almost intoxicating Jace. He breathed in the scent of perfume and sweat and alcohol, a small smile curving the edge of his lips. Ah, he'd missed this.

Squinting, he sighed as he realized the large, gyrating crowd that moved as one to the beat was currently blocking any view to the other side of the club. Where the hell was Alec? As he passed the bar, a group of girls giggled and swooned a little at the sight of him, batting their fake eyelashes and thrusting out their chests towards him. Normally Jace would have entertained the stray girls, but considering he was currently in a relationship and these girls didn't look older than 17, he didn't bother.

Jace made a mental note to discreetly check their IDs later then chastise the bartender, if need be. He spotted raven black hair and sighed before walking towards the bobbing head, pushing through the crowd. Isabelles familiar face took shape. Her slim figure was trapped inside a silver mini dress and knee high black heeled boots that he would normally find attractive, but the thought of Isabelle like that made him shudder. She spotted Jace too, and corners of her mouth turned down in a small but noticeable frown.

"Have you seen Alec?!" Jace had to shout over the thumping beat of the music. Isabelle turned and yelled her order at the bartender and turned back towards Jace, pointing her painted nail towards the stage. After stretching his neck in a manner that would impress a giraffe, Jace spotted his best friend. Alec was sitting in a stool talking to the most sparkling man Jace had ever seen- and that's saying something from the guy who had to go undercover for a strip club called 'Glitterati'. He seemed to be asian in origin, tanned skin donned in a purple leather vest and his jet black hair spiked up with glitter infused gel. They made that stuff? Why in God's name?

Alec and Sparkles nodded in greeting and Jace sat down on a twisting stool next to Alec. A waitress came to take his order and she, with little self-restraint, dropped her writing pad on the floor and bent over to pick it up, revealing her cleavage in the process. Jace looked away. It was ridiculous how many groupies were around in places like this. You should have seen Glitterati. At least here his clothes were on and would stay that way if he had any say in the matter. He couldn't say the same for the other people here.

"Did you and Kealie have another fight?" Jace just nodded and continued studying the swaying dancers, if you could call grinding against someone else dancing. Blondes in short dresses and half drunk losers, as far as the eye could see. Ah, New York, what a realm of possibility.

Alec noticed Jace's lack of attention and went back to talking to Sparkles. The waitress seemed to recover from the floor and wrote down Alec and Shimmers order, Jace just ordered a beer. Just because his relationship was on the rocks doesn't mean his drinks should be.

Behind the blinding amount of shine on Alec's new friend that made him look like a disco ball, Jace saw a table full of girls with Isabelle hovering among them. The other girls around the table were familiar looking. Jace knew two of them, Aline and Maia. Aline was a junior detective in the narcotics department and Maia was in the terrorist division. An unknowing pedestrian may not see the fashion designer, narcotics detective and terrorist diversionary- instead they just see the gorgeous girls in inappropriate attire, laughing with ditzy voices and bright eyes, tossing their hair back and shooting seductive smiles at those lucky enough to receive them. Oh, if only they knew.

A new girl was weaving her way over to his colleagues caught his eye, and Jace had to look twice. The short redhead wasn't dressed in a tight dress or barely there shorts like everyone else, but just in tight jeans and a black tank top. Brown boots and a gold necklace decorated her neck, but besides that she was plain. Did she even have any makeup on? Not any foundation by the looks of it. Jace shuddered at his knowledge of the stuff, considering how many times he'd had to watch Kaelie go through her hour long face placement.

The girl was nearing Isabelle's table. Jace thought about telling her not to bother trying, but Isabelle was already on her feet heading towards the girl. Jace wished he had popcorn to watch the vicious showdown about to occur.

Isabelles arm shot out and landed around the girl's slender shoulders. They smiled at each other and the girl held up her hands, showing the group her prize. She was holding a bottle of tequila and four shot glasses. Jace rose his eyebrows. He didn't know the girl and she already intrigued him. Setting the bottle down, the redhead poured out a shot for everybody and they all downed them at once without hesitation. The song finished up and Jace heard a booming voice come through the microphone.

"Can we get a volunteer for some karaoke?" The crowd was looking around itself, waiting for a volunteer to part the crowd. He saw Isabelle, Aline, and Maia push the new girl towards the stage. She fought against them, but eventually she ends up on the stage looking nervous. Her face was flushed, but she still made her way over to the guy at the microphone and whisper something in his ear. He nodded and handed her the microphone.

Isabelle climbed up with her own microphone, and Jace heard whistling from the guys around the bar. He couldn't blame them, both girls were very attractive, but the redhead looked incredibly tiny and almost breakable. She was probably a model Isabelle was using for a catwalk. The crowd was encouraging the girl to sing. The music started and she paled slightly, but Isabelle sang first.

This one's for you and me, living out our dreams

We're all right where we should be

with my arms out wide I open my eyes

And now all I wanna see

Is a sky full of lighters

A sky full of lighters

More than a few guys had relocated to the front of the stage to ogle at her. The red haired girl looked a little more confident at the crowds support, but not very. Until she opened her mouth and the most angelic voice started rapping.

By the time you hear this I will have already spiralled up

I would never do nothing to let you cowards fuck my world up

If I was you I would duck, or get struck, like lightning,

Fighters keep fighting, put your lighters up, point em' skyward uh

Had a dream, I was king, I woke up, still king

This rap game's nipple is mine for the milking,

Till nobody else even fucking feels me, till' it kills me

I swear to God I'll be the fucking illest in this music

There is or there ever will be, disagree?

Feel free, but from now on I'm refusing to ever give up

Only thing I ever gave up using's no more excuses

Excuse me if my head is too big for this building

And pardon me if I'm a cocky prick but you cocks are slick

Popping shit on how you flipped ya life around, crock-o-shit

Who you dicks tryna kid, flipped dick, you did opposite

You stayed the same, cause cock backwards is still cock you pricks

I love it when I tell em shove it

Jace felt like his jaw had found it's new home on the floor. This girl went from being terrified to rapping as if she spent every sunday night in front of crowds. The guys ogling Isabelle thought so too because they had relocated too. They were now cemented to the floor in front of the redhead, drooling. Isabelle sang her part but the attention towards her was less than ten percent. Jace made a mental note to add rapping to the growing list of surprising turn ons.

Cause it wasn't that, long ago when Marshall sat, flustered lack, lustered

Cause he couldn't cut mustard, muster up, nothing

Brain fuzzy, cause he's buzzin', woke up from that buzzin'

Now you wonder why he does it, how he does it

Wasn't cause he had buzzards circlin' around his head

Waiting for him to drop dead, was it?

Or was it cause them bitches wrote him off

Little hussy ass, scuzzes, fuck it, guess it doesn't matter now, does it

What difference it make?

What it take to get it through your thick skulls

That this ain't some bullshit

People don't usually come back this way

From a place that was dark as I was in

Just to get to this place

Now let these words be like a switch blade to a haters rib cage

And let it be known that from this day forward

I wanna just say thanks cause your hate is what gave me the strength

So let em bic's raise cause I came with 5'9" but I feel like I'm 6'8″!

Isabelle wasn't a bad singer. On any other night she would have been the complete and total reason for the gawking men- but tonight she wasn't the only hot girl up there. Even Jace himself felt a little overwhelmed by the red haired girl who had successfully strutted onto that stage and into his mind in the most odd way, despite the fact they've never had a conversation. But the night was still young.

The rest of the song was a blur, and if the girl noticed all the attention she didn't let on. She just kept rapping, a small, knowing smile gracing her lips the entire time. When the guy with the microphone came back on stage and the girls were escorted down, the room was filled with applause and jealous looks, accompanied with the occasional shout for an encore.

The guys from the bottom of the stage pushed passed dancers until they reached the table Isabelle and her friends sat at. The girls exchanged looks and laughed quietly, obviously passing over the guys. That didn't sit well with the beefed up guys in black wife beaters. Is that the universal dress code for douchebags?

Jace himself was in jeans and a black short sleeved t shirt. It wasn't exactly provocative clothing, yet Jace could still feel eyes on him. It egged on his already big ego, the blatant stares of the beautiful young women causing his lazy smirk to grow wider by the second. Being ogled wasn't new, being appreciated wasn't objected by Jace. So he threw his head back, feeling the stares but fixing his on only one girl.

The red haired angel sat with her legs crossed, twisting a stray curl around her finger. Jace couldn't tell from where he was sitting what color her eyes were, but he wanted to know. He stood up and began walking towards the table. He glanced back at Alec and The Wonderful of Oz, they weren't paying a drop of attention to him leaving. I need to learn that guys name, Jace thought to himself. When he neared the table, he heard the blonde guy talking to the red haired girl.

"Come on baby, it'll be fun." Judging by the girl's face, that opinion was highly one sided. The blonde placed his hand on the girl's thigh. Not even looking fazed, she raised her brows before she leaned in dangerously close, a devilish grin that peaked Jace's interest. It twisted her innocent face into the face of a pixie, sickeningly sweet with an edge like a knife.

"I suggest you take your hand off me before you lose that appendage, baby." She crooned, her smile capable of cutting glass. There was a dangerous glint in her eye, and luckily his friend apparently noticed it before the blonde himself.

"Conner, let's go." He tugged at the blondes-Conners- shirt. Connor leaned even closer to the girl's face and gripped her thigh tighter. It didn't faze anyone at the table. Aline, Isabelle, and Maia were deep in conversation with a drunk looking boy.

Conner looked like he was about to drag the girl by her red locks into a closet, ignoring the looks he was getting. A sudden surge of protectiveness came over him, and Jace, on instinct, stepped in front of her. His gaze flicked up to Jace, his face turning a disgustingly ugly red. Still he didn't let go of the girl's thigh. Some nerve this one.

"If I were you I'd listen to your friend and let go of my girlfriend." Jace, interrupted, dropping his voice into a soft, threatening tone. He was hoping the girl wouldn't sell him out, considering that would be mildly embarrassing for everyone involved. He didn't regularly play hero in places like this, especially without his badge and gun. Yet a warm feeling settled over him as he took his place next to her. He looked down covertly at the redhead, her face cool and smooth. Good, she wasn't blowing this.

Connor's friend pulled at his friend's arm again.A stronger urge to get the hell out of there. The guy didn't budge. Jace's gaze narrowed at the look in his eyes, jaw tensing. He put his arm around the redhead in a 'this is my future babymama, back up' manner, keeping his grip light. She tensed for a moment, but played along by throwing a small smile up at him with perfect teeth. She turned and grabbed a black leather jacket and a light brown purse.

"Let's go, love." She said in a sweet voice, a bit of disgust aimed at the drunk manchild. She was british, Jace realized absently at the sound of her crisp accent. She seemed to get hotter by the second.

It took Jace a second to recognize his own cover, body tensing for a moment before he nodded tightly. The red head kicked off the hand on her thigh and stood up, wrinkling her nose at Connor before turning to the rest of the women. His arm was still around her. She turned to Isabelle, who narrowed her black lined eyes and gave Jace a death glare. You try to do something nice. Red murmured her goodbyes. He heard Maia call her by her name, something with a C. Care? Was it short for Caroline?

They started walking to the exit, Jace hyper aware of Alec and Asian Disco Balls' confused expressions, and a few other glares from patrons at the bar. The girl herself received a few glares by the female company around. Jace couldn't help but grin at the sight. Once they were out of the club, Jace noticed Conner and his buddy following them a couple feet behind. He felt his back tense, but made sure to keep his expression clear in order to avoid the redhead panicking.

"So, what's my savior's name?" All he could focus on for a second was the beautiful accent. Jace's hot meter kept going up for this girl, by a lot. He seemed to have a weakness for redheads who were British and could rap. Go figure.

"Jace Herondale. At you service, my lady." He plucked her hand from her side and kissed the back smoothly, gliding his lips along her knuckles. He lingered for a moment. She smelled very flowery despite the alcohol she had downed. She smiled up at him, a small lilt of her lips. "And who do I have the pleasure of saving?"

"Clare Fairchild. Aren't you Alec's' best friend? Because if so, Isabelle does not like you in the slightest." She laughed and he joined her before glancing behind him. His friend was gone, but Conner was hanging around.

"That I know. Isabelle is not fond of very many people. Especially ones who are not female and don't care for fashion." Clare threw her head back and laughed a little louder. He had a better look at her eyes. They were emerald green, twinkling with specks of bronze. "What do you do for a living? Let me guess model? Actress?" She rolled her eyes and laughed. Jace decided he liked her laugh.

"I'm a homicide detective, actually." The girl was lying. Jace knew everyone in the whole precinct- there was no way in hell she could work homicide without him knowing. He didn't know why she would lie to him. He thought about telling her but thought of a better way. Let her trap herself in a lie.

"How long have you been in homicide?" Jace asks casually, waiting for her to eventually slip up. She looked at peace talking about this, the knot between her brows was gone and Jace prefered her smoldering eyes when they met his.

"Since I graduated from the academy. Approximately four years." She was good, but he was better. They took the next turn and then down the stairs to the subway. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Oh nothing special. I dapple." She rose her eyebrows like she didn't believe him, just like she shouldn't. Nothing special my ass, Jace thought, just the best damn homicide detective in New York City. Solved the unsolvable cases, cold for years, left abandoned and without hope. Then he came along and swept them into perfect files, revealing the truth.

"You know, you don't have to waste your money on the subway, I can take you home." Jace offered. He wasn't exactly sure why he wanted to spend more time with her but he narrowed the option down to Kealie or Clare.

Clare laughed smoothly, slipping out from underneath his arm. Had that been there the entire walk? "Nice try hero, but I'm not in the mood to invite a strange guy to the front of my door- no matter how many times he helped me out."

"I hope I have to help you out again. It will give me an excuse to see you." Clare just rolled her eyes at his claim, walking backwards away from him.

"Goodnight, Herondale."

"Goodnight, Clare." She ducked her head and retreated down the steps.

A moment later, and Jace still stood there, wondering about the strange redhead named Clare Fairchild.

Hello my beautifuls,

I'd like to thank my beta and lovely wife, Madeline for taking the time during her finals (might I add) to edit this.

I love you and I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you.

That goes for my fans and wife.

P.S. I don't know why, out of all the rap songs I could have chosen, I went with this one so hush.