Jace was in the largest library at the university, reading a book about Frederic Chopin, one of his favourite classical composers. The corners of his mouth tugged. At least he had chosen to study a subject he enjoyed, even though it was all pretence. He already had an education, a job. He gazed discreetly over the pages of the book he was reading, and over at the read-headed, hunched figure bent over a massive art book. His job, his subject, and – hopefully not, Jace thought – his target. It was hard to difficult to imagine that this girl, with her fiery red, bird nest hair, golden, soft freckles scattered over her nose and sparkling green eyes was the daughter of one of the most wanted criminals in the US. But she was. He found his phone in his pocket, but just as he was about to message Alec, someone stopped next to him.

"Hey," a feminine voice said. Jace looked up and stared at a young woman's face, probably a few years younger than him. Probably around Clary's age, Jace thought. She had black, glossy hair, dark hair, flawless olive skin and dark eyes. Pretty. "I'm hosting a party on Friday, and I was just wondering if you wanted to come? Normally I don't invite people personally but just let the word spread, but I thought giving you a personal invite would be more… intimate," she said, staring directly into Jace's eyes. Jace replied with a smirk. He could see where this would lead. "Sure, I'll come."

"Great!" she replied, enthusiastically. "Here's my number, by the way. Just text me your number and I'll send you the location." She handed him a small note that smelled suspiciously good, Jace thought – it was probably perfumed. The girl turned around and went back to the table where she came from, where five, equally gorgeous girls sat. She said something to them in a low voice, and they all began giggling and looked over at Jace. He winked.

Turning back at his book, he saw a glimpse of Clary rolling her eyes in disgust. Probably because of the way Jace had flirted with that girl, he thought. Clary had no reason to judge him, Jace thought angrily. It was his life, and they were not even friends. Despite of this, he felt guilty somehow, and deep in his chest a tight knot had formed. He looked down at his hands. They were large, with defined veins and slim fingers, lined with narrow, silvery scars. Oh, he was supposed to text Alec, he suddenly remembered.

"Meet me in the library. Bring Izzy." He pressed send.

He had not read one chapter in his book before Alec and Isabelle came into the library and sat down next to him.

"So, what's up?" Isabelle said in a cheerful voice. She was dressed elegantly, in slim black jeans and ankle boots, with a minimalistic, slouchy turtleneck, looking slouchy the way only designer clothes could look slouchy. A tape measure hung casually over her shoulders, and Jace realised she came straight from a sewing class – she was usually in a very good mood after that. When they had gotten their new assignments and had to study something, both Jace and Isabelle had decided to study something fun and creative, something they wouldn't have the time for otherwise, so Jace had chosen music and Isabelle studied Fashion design. After all, they already had safe jobs so it didn't really matter. Alexander, however, had chosen to study law. Jace repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"I met Clary's brother last night," Jace said. "Jonathan."

Alec widened his eyes. "What? Did you hear anything?" Izzy leaned forward in anticipation.

"Well," Jace began, "I heard voices through the wall, and the male voice didn't sound like the weasel's…" Both Alec and Isabelle stared at him with confused expressions, "I mean, Simon, so I went over to her apartment to see, but when he saw me he was suddenly in a hurry to leave. I stood outside the door for a while before I knocked, though, and I heard something about going back to New York."

"Do you think they are planning anything? We can't let her leave, you know that Jace."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Of course, I know that Alec, we need her."

"Have you gotten anything out of her yet?" Isabelle said, surprisingly stern.

"No… She's quite reserved."

"Then get to know her better," Isabelle sighed with frustration. "Just do whatever you have to do."

"As long as you don't get personally attached of course," Alec said, while studying his nails, as if he found something incredibly interesting beneath one of them.

"Getting girls to like me is not a problem. This girl is just so… irritating."

"What, has she denied you?" Isabelle grinned widely, while Alec looked astonished. "Really?" He asked with a confused face. "When did that last happen?" Isabelle mumbled.

"She hasn't denied me," Jace said angrily. "Last time that happened I was 17 and I was very drunk. It was during that Christmas party in Brooklyn. I think I had antlers on my head," he added, almost like an afterthought.

"Well, get to the business," Alec said, impatiently. "You have to find out what's going on with her, and quickly. If she's involved in anything, what she knows. Whatever it takes."

Jace nodded. "I know," he said. He knew how important it was to get her to talk. He looked over at Clary, and Isabelle noticed it.

"Hard to believe anything so small and seemingly innocent could be a criminal, isn't it?" Jace nodded. She had slender limbs and her fingers turned the pages in her book gently. She seemed completely lost in her book. Perhaps the others were right, that she really was a wolf in sheepskin. He found it hard to believe. "If feels weird talking about her when she's only a couple of metres away from us," Isabelle commented. Alec nodded. "Yeah, it really is."

o.O.o

Clary was lying on her sofa with her feet propped comfortably over the armrest when someone knocked on her door. She growled silently. It was probably Simon – he had already checked in on her three times that day. He needed something new every time. He had, apparently, forgotten to buy groceries so he asked her for some eggs so he could make an omelette, toilet paper and the first Naruto manga – he wanted to re-read it, as he said. As if he hadn't read Naruto around 1000 times already. Clary suspected he was just checking if she was okay after the last days. She had told him about the surprise visit from Jonathan, as well – she just hadn't told him what he wanted.

Simon didn't know much about Clary's family, except that her parents were unhappily married, her father was a successful and very wealthy businessman and that Clary absolutely despised her father. There was a knock in the door again. She grunted and rose from the sofa. Her creative juices were finally flowing and Simon had to interrupt her again. She would never get any work done in this pace.

"What is it, Simon?" She said as she opened the door. But it wasn't Simon standing outside her door, it was Jace. He was barefoot, dressed in worn-out jeans, a grey hoodie and his eyes were glittering with something Clary thought was mischief. "Hey," he said and grinned.

"Heeey," Clary said slowly, uncertainty in her voice. "Why are you barefoot? You know, I think Simon puked right where you are standing once."

"Ewww," Jace said and wrinkled his nose. "Then let me in woman." Clary stepped back and let Jace slip inside before she closed the door.

"Not to be rude, but… what do you want, Jace?" Clary said. "It's kinda late and I'm tired, to be honest."

"I came to apologise." He seemed sincere, Clary thought. "For what?" She said, curiously. Jace had done a lot of stupid things since he moved in, but she couldn't remember anything specific stupidity of late.

He shrugged. "Just in general. I've been a major jerk since I moved in here."

Clary widened her eyes. "What? Did I actually hear some guilt? Some remorse?" She couldn't even have imagined in her wildest dreams that Jace could apologise to anyone. He smiled. "Yeah. And I even brought you something. A white flag." He grinned, and for the first time Clary noticed the small box he held by his side. "Ice cream?" She said, excitement creeping into her voice. "Who told you I loved ice cream?"

"Well, I might have passed your sparkly-haired friend in the hallway. He told me." Jace walked into the kitchen and began opening drawers at random. "Ah," he said, as he had found a treasure and pulled out two spoons. Clary sat down on the floor next to the sofa and leaned her head back on the armrest. Jace looked funnily at her. "What?" she said and giggled. "I love sitting on the floor."

Jace walked over to her and sat down next to her, graceful like a cat. "Screw Ben & Jerrys," Jace said, "This Italian stuff is the best." Clary nodded enthusiastically. Jace had bought one with vanilla and the other was a rich, dark chocolate. She put her spoon in the chocolate one and took a big bite. It was delicious.

"To friendship?" Jace said, his voice serious.

"To friendship," Clary agreed. She took another large spoonful. It felt like Christmas. She had always loved ice cream as a child. It was the one common thing she had with her father. Her father, Valentine. She quickly tried to shake off the thought and took some more ice cream while trying to think of something else. She became aware of how close she sat to Jace: the sleeve of his hoodie brushed her the bare skin of her arm and she could feel the heat radiating off him. In her dimly lit apartment his eyelashes and hair became a dark gold and dramatic shadows spread over his face. She thought about the ambivalence in his personality – sometimes he was rash and cold, all business, while other times he was warm and caring.

"You're staring at me. Why are you staring at me?" Jace said and turned towards her, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"You have some ice cream here," Clary said, and automatically, without thinking, she reached out to wipe away the small speck of ice cream below his lip. Jace reacted immediately, so quickly she almost jumped. He gripped her hand and Clary prepared herself to have her hand torn away, but he just held it there. His body was tense, rigid, his fingers comparable to iron. And then, as if on command, his body relaxed and he pressed her hand closer to his cheeks and closed his eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Clary, I can't…" He mumbled.

"You can't what?" Clary said, confused. She barely breathed, as if the noise from her lungs inhaling and exhaling air would interrupt them. He opened his eyes and stared at her, his gaze burning. His golden eyes locked with her green.

"Fuck the rules," He said, and in a moment he had dragged her into his lap, and his lips were on hers.