"That sucks, Simon. Want me to come over, bring some soup or something?" Clary asked, frowning into the phone.

"N-no, no, hack, hack, Sorry about the plans tonight. But I don't want you going to Pandemonium without me," he groaned into the phone.

"Yeah, sure, Lewis, it wouldn't be any fun without you there anyway," she agreed. Although Simon never looked comfortable during their monthly forays to the Manhattan nightclub, Clary knew it wouldn't be the same without her best friend's steady and dependable presence. Plus who else would she jibe with?

"Well, I'm sending some good health waves to you," Clary continued, touching her right hand to her forehead as if she were really telegraphing fine fettle to Simon.

"Feel better already," Simon answered hoarsely.

"I'll come check on you tomorrow, if I don't see you at the Java, s'long partner."

After Simon said his goodbyes, Clary hung up the phone and looked blankly out the apartment window. It was another sweltering day, beginning of August, and only a few short weeks before school started again. She had really wanted to check out Pandemonium tonight but she told Simon she wouldn't go without him and he was clearly not feeling well enough to get out of bed today. She looked down at the clothes she had laid for the club, a black tanktop, skinny jeans, green converse and a fitted light cotton khaki green shirt she had planned to wear open over the tank. Suddenly she felt a strange wave of apathy, imagining a boring night ahead without even Simon to verbally spar and crack jokes with.

"Well there's really no reason why not to go alone other than just being chicken shit about it," she thought as she looked up at her reflection in the vanity mirror in her room. "Small, plain and round," she mentally labelled the mirror, a second hand affair with an antique-like elegance in its stooped base and long lean neck that opened up to a one foot wide view of her own face. "Could be describing that too," she thought as she peered at her profile. "Whatevs…"

She turned around and tossed herself onto her bed. Not a bad distance, she surprised herself. Usually the last person anyone would consider athletic but she had a strange perception of time slowing as she leaped in a surprising graceful sideways glide with her head landing squarely on her pillow. Somehow she had a vague and gnawing sensation that she was missing something important, maybe even life-changing by staying in tonight, but she dismissed this as part of her overblown, anime-consumed geeky romanticism. She picked up her sketchpad and let her pencil scratch over the sheer white surface at its own accord. An angel with golden hair, mesmerizing eyes and magnificent feathery wings effortlessly appeared.

{{0}}

Clary's mother, Jocelyn, seemed especially anxious today. Mom had obviously been relieved when she came home yesterday evening and saw Clary didn't go out. Even though Clary had cleared it with her a few days ago, her mother never looked happy when Clary went out after dark and insisted on a strict 11pm curfew. Still, she was more jittery than usual and looked to be packing some things away for storage. She did this once a year around Spring Cleaning time but Clary supposed her mom was just making it a bi-annual thing this year.

Clary kept her head down, sketching her mother as she moved nimbly around the apartment, placing various items into a brown cardbox box sweeping her hands around the shelves with a dust cloth. After some time, Clary glanced at what her mother was placing in the box and realized it was a treasured photo of her mother's, Clary and Luke at Coney Island, her mother and her smiling brightly at the camera while Luke turned to look at them both with an eye crinkling grin. She was just about to ask her mother why in the world she would pack away the photo, when there was a knock at the door.

Her mother walked swiftly to the door, looked through the peep hole and some tension in her shoulders seemed to lift as she opened the door.

"Luke," her mom greeted and leaned in with a one handed hug-pat.

Luke's eyes went down, mumbled a greeting and moved into the apartment with an armful of stacked cardboard boxes.

"Got lucky today," Luke announced. "Parking space right downstairs so we'll have an easier time getting some filled boxes in there. Ready for the trip?" Luke looked over at Clary with an upbeat wariness as if trying to put a happy face on something he knew she wouldn't like.

"What trip?" Clary asked confused.

"You didn't tell her?" Luke whispered to Jocelyn but it wasn't hard for Clary to hear him as he was only a yard away from where she was splayed on the couch.

She sat up looking at Luke and then her eyes shifted to her mother.

It became obvious that there was something up, something her mother had planned to spring on her.

"Not yet," Jocelyn said slowly as her bright green eyes moved onto Clary.

"Mom, what is it?" Clary's voice rose. She worked to control it.

"Clary, I decided to take an end of summer trip. To Luke's farmhouse, you know you love it there."

"Whaaat," Clary breathed, "How long? You know I still have another two weeks of art classes and Simon and I were planning to throw that party before school starts…"

"I'm sorry, Clary, you'll have to miss that. Simon will understand and I'll pay you back for the classes," Jocelyn hurried attempting a placating smile.

"MOOOOOMMMMMM! NO! Why do I have to go? I'm old enough to stay home by myself now. I'll be sixteen in a few days. Why are you sending me away right before my birthday!" she wailed. "Why do you do this? What are you hiding from me!"

Jocelyn's eyes grew large and she gulped before looking frantically at Luke.

Luke straightened, "Jocelyn, you need to talk with Clary. She's right. You need to tell her."

Just then, the front door swung open and Simon walked in jauntily.

"Whazzup, peeps? I'm all better," he announced as he patted his chest.

Jocelyn shrieked and Luke jumped with surprise.

"Simon, were you listening to us?" Jocelyn recovered.

"Jesus," Luke mumbled as he sweeped the hair off his forehead, "I'm leaving. Jocelyn, you and Clary need to talk." Luke's long legs stretched to the door. The door shut firmly behind him.

"N-nno," Simon responded, "Clary, I thought we were going to the poetry reading. Thought I'd pick you up rather than meet you there," Simon continued uncertainly.

Clary jumped up, grabbed her backpack and threw her wallet and phone inside it, "Yeah, we're leaving. I need some time to cool down, Mom."

Jocelyn was gripping the couch, "Clary, don't you think we should talk…"

"Later, Mom. I can't do this now," Clary moved quickly to the door, grabbing Simon's hand.

"Bye, Mrs. Fray!" Simon waved as he stumbled out, his arm stretched from Clary's tight grip.

{{0}}

Simon and Clary sat back into a pair of worn mismatching upholstered chairs hidden at the back of Java Jones. There was a small stage at the front and Eric was warming up, preparing for his poetry reading set.

Clary held her steaming black coffee in both hands, letting the heat warm her fingers.

She had already filled Simon in on all that transpired at home, vehemently describing her resentment and frustration at her mother. Why did she feel like her mother was always trying to keep her locked up. She was fairly certain she had the most rigid parent in the entire school, barely able to escape her mother's constant watchful eyes. Even now her phone buzzed for the third time as "Mom" displayed on the screen.

"Clary, she'll get over it. She always does. I think she needs something else to keep her occupied. Like a boyfriend." Simon rambled.

"Huh?" Clary's own emerald gaze widened at the thought. "Are you serious? She's never been the slightest bit interested in anyone like that."

"Yeah, well maybe she should," Simon continued, peering back at Clary, his deep chocolate brown eyes glistening, "Everyone should have some passion in their lives."

Clary snickered despite her gray mood, "Wow. Just wow. That's beautiful. Loving the pass-i-onez." She reached out, lightly nudging Simon in the shoulder.

Simon leaned forward, his features abruptly intense, nervously chewing on his lip.

"Clary, there's something I want to tell you," he managed to pull out.

Clary leaned toward him, a frown on her face, "What is it, Simon? You know you can tell me anything."

"I-uh-um…" Simon fumbled. Just then Clary's phone rang for the fifth time today.

"You better get that," Simon continued, looking down almost relieved.

"OK, I think she's going to blow a gasket if she doesn't hear from me," Clary apologized, bringing the phone to her ear.

"Mom, I told you Simon and I are just at Java Jones. I'll be back in an hour," Clary started.

"NO! Clary, no, I don't want you back home. Stay with Simon. Call Luke. Whatever you do, don't come back to the apartment. It's important, honey. I love you. Do what I say," her mother rushed.

"What?! Mom, what's wrong? Mom, MOM, MOMMM!" Clary wailed into the phone as she heard a loud thumping sound and the line went dead.

She looked up and realized she was surrounded by alarmed stares. She jumped out of the chair, grabbed her bag and raced to the door. As she was stepping out of the café, she felt someone grab her elbow and twirl her around. Her cellphone flew out of her hand, unable to keep it in her sweaty grip.

"Clary! What's happening? Where are you going?!" Simon cried, firmly holding her shoulders trying to keep her stationary.

"It's mom! Something's wrong. I have to go Simon, I have to go right now! Damn, my phone is broken," she realized as she bent to retrieve the cracked case and the black screen remained unchanged as she tried to call 911. "Call Emergency, Simon! I have to get to my mother, NOW!" she yelled as she ducked out of his hands and raced back home.

She didn't realize how fast she was going, until she noticed everything was a blur around her. It would have shocked her to stop if it wasn't a brief, secondary thought, all her focus on getting home, getting to her mother as fast as humanly possible.

When she reached the Brooklyn brownstone converted into a two story apartment building, she could feel something wasn't right. It was eerily quiet, the bulb in the foyer was out, only a muted glow from the sidewalk street lamps providing any light to continue her race up the stairs.

She halted to an abrupt stop when she reached the apartment door, wide open. The lights were on, the white rays streaming into the darkened hallway. She stepped gingerly into apartment, her eyes flickering all around trying to catch any movement or sign of her mother.

Looking around at a massive disarray of furniture, shredded cushions and canvas paintings, with no evidence of her mother, she knew it wasn't a good idea but she couldn't stop herself as she yelled out, "MOOMMM! Mom, where are you!"

"Now, who are you?" drawled a deep voice tinged with curiosity.

Clary spun around to see a tall, broad chested, middle aged man, white blond hair and black eyes blazing. By his side, her mother lay unconscious suspended in the air as if on an invisible stretcher. She looked unmarked, as if asleep. Clary noted the intake of her mother's breath as her chest rose and fell with relief.

Clary did not understand her reaction as she felt her body crouch down ready to spring at this man who under any normal circumstances she would never remotely consider attacking, being easily three times her size, muscles bulging, dressed in some kind of black warrior-like gear. But there it was again, that overpowering sensation of time slowing, unused calf muscles bunching together, arms outstretched and fingers pressed down to the ground as she vaulted at the man. He did not look surprised, only a small smile thinned his lips. He moved as if he joined her in this strange time crawling dimension, his left hand swung back and plucked her out of the air just as her right leg was about to reach his head. Tossing her to the side, her head knocked against the wall. The force of the throw denting the plaster. She felt paint chips and bits of the crumbling mortar fall over her as she lay a heap against the wall. Her head was spinning and she barely could make out his looming shape as the black dots grew and swarmed her vision.