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CHAPTER ONE: FEY FUN

❛and till the very end, you're my best friend.❜

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Zoya would really appreciate it if people would just tell her what their plans were, instead of dragging her around to a boring patrol as if she had nothing better to do.

One moment she was laying on her comfortable bed with her arms underneath her head, staring at the star-painted ceiling and thinking about how she was going to write a new song to play on the guitar Livvy and Ty had gotten her for her seventeenth birthday and then, the next, Emma and Cristina were dragging her to the roof of the Sepulchre Bar.

It's not that Zoya was ungrateful for their attempt of diverting her thoughts from the upcoming anniversary of her parents' death - she was - but Zoya would have preferred staying in the warm atmosphere of her own bedroom at the Los Angeles Institute, just looking through old pictures of her family. However, knowing the sweet, but ever-so-fierce nature of her best friend and parabatai - Emma Carstairs - Zoya was aware that the blonde didn't want to hear another useless protest coming from the Caldwell girl's lips.

Honestly, Zoya didn't blame Emma for such persistent behavior. The sorrow and pain that came when thinking about one's parents' deaths were familiar to the Carstairs girl and if Zoya said anything about not wanting to go out with her and Cristina - Emma would have called her a hypocrite. She would have had every right to, as well.

Zoya was always the one who tried to lift Emma's spirits up when the blonde girl thought about her own parents. It was scary - just how easily Zoya could sense that there was something going on with her best friend. It was as if she could smell Emma's pain roaming through the air, feel her heart skipping a beat upon reminiscing on past memories. The two weren't bonded just by their love for second-hand shopping and finding unique vintage pieces. No. The roots of their friendship ran much, much deeper.

It all truly started when Zoya arrived at the Los Angeles Institute, accompanied by no other than Clary Fairchild and Jace Herondale. According to the pair's humble opinion, the Caldwell girl would get along with Emma and the Blackthorns just fine. They would spend their days together, studying and training, bonding over things they had in common. Having no parents was just one of their many similarities, offering them a perfect pillar to start building their friendship upon.

"It's just not working out," Zoya heard Emma sigh as she spoke. "The relationship, I mean."

The Carstairs girl was striding along the roofline, observing the square beneath her. Though the roofline was thin, Emma appeared as confident as a wire walker.

"What did the poor boy even do to her?" Cristina lifted her gaze from the knife she was polishing.

Zoya's eyes met hers, a light chuckle escaping her lips. The Rosales girl, dressed in her black Shadowhunter gear, sat on a slope next to Zoya. A golden medallion, along with her family ring, glimmered brightly against the caramel skin of her throat. Twined with a pattern of roses, they proudly displayed her heritage.

"I know it's hard to believe, but I actually have no idea," Zoya responded. "Although I can't say I blame Em for her actions. I am not a big fan of Ashdowns. They have a tendency of messing with our family."

Cristina placed her weapon in between them, nodding. Her black hair, tied by two pale blue ribbons, bathed in the silver moonlight.

"All right, our relationship," Emma repeated. "Our relationship isn't working out."

"Oh well," Zoya shook her head, standing up from the slope and shaking off the dust from her gear. Her hand fell upon the expandable polearm that dangled from her belt. When it was not extended and ready for a battle, Zoya's pole weapon resembled nothing but a long, narrow cylinder. However, once Zoya was about to face the danger, with a simple "Lazarus" falling off of her lips, her weapon would extend and shine as bright as a seraph blade would, transforming into a perfect demon-slaying machine.

It was a parting gift from Jace and Clary, one that the Caldwell girl could never repay enough. Upon examining Zoya's abilities in the New York Institute, the two were impressed by the way she fought with a polearm. After hearing the story of the Windshade twins who spent countless hours teaching her how to handle the weapon, the two couldn't resist in asking the Iron Sisters to forge her a unique polearm. Made of adamas and with heavenly fire circulating through the weapon, Lazarus became Zoya's weapon of choice. Much like Cortana - legendary Carstairs' sword - was to Emma.

"Emma," Cristina hissed loudly, gaining the girl's attention. If Zoya hadn't known her parabatai well enough, she would have sworn that the blonde would have fallen off the roof because she turned way too fast on the heel of her foot. "Emma, remember. Use your I statements."

"This is about me, not you," the blonde mumbled into the phone, eyeing her friends in the process. Zoya gave her a smirk, while Cristina encouraged her with a thumbs-up. "I am sick of you, so maybe we could go back to being friends?"

Just as Zoya had predicted, Emma had yet again managed to smash someone's heart in a disarray of pieces, although Zoya couldn't say she was surprised. Emma was one of those people that couldn't stand being tamed or bossed around.

Cristina had buried her face in her hands, exhaling deeply. The Caldwell girl chuckled at her reaction, turning her intense gaze to the scenery beneath them.

The garden below was full of trees outlined with electric lights. In between them, various sets of expensive steel tables and chairs were set, waiting on young men and women whose hearts and minds urged them to spend all their savings.

Zoya could hear faint chatter and multiple toasts being exchanged; glasses of red, white and pink were lifted up in the air. Without a doubt, someone had been throwing an exclusive, private party. Glittery birthday banners were hung in between the trees, making it difficult for poor waiters to navigate through the crowd.

"Well, that could have gone better," Emma announced as she flopped down in between Zoya and Cristina. Her eyes were inspecting the crowd below. They were glued to something or someone - although Zoya was incapable of deciphering what exactly.

"Do you think so?" Cristina lifted her head and withdrew her hands. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Emma played with the steele Jace Herondale had given her long ago. Zoya remembered Emma telling her all about it. According to the blonde girl, the rune-writing instrument was special and not just because of its demon-bone handle. Zoya automatically assumed it had something to do with Emma's crush on a certain Herondale boy, but she never brought it up. "It always happens. Everything was fine, and then I woke up one morning and just the sound of his voice made me feel sick to my stomach." Emma glanced from Cristina to Zoya, guilt glimmering in her mesmerizing honey-colored eyes. "I tried," she reasoned. "I waited weeks! I kept hoping it would get better. But it didn't."

"Well," Zoya shrugged her shoulders, her dark locks dancing at the unexpected ocean breeze. "You did forget to mention that. I think you made the right decision. There's no point in leading the boy on. However, I have to admit that you aren't very good when it comes to-"

"Tact?" Emma asked, raising her perfectly-shaped eyebrow at her parabatai.

Cristina patted her arm gently. "I don't think Zoya was going to say that, cuata," Cristina's English was good. In fact, it was so good that Emma and Zoya tended to forget that it wasn't Cristina's mother tongue. It was one of the things Zoya had really liked about the Rosales girl - she spoke seven languages besides Spanish. That made Zoya and Emma feel slightly ashamed, intimidated in a way; while Emma spoke English and scraps of Spanish, Greek and Latin (along with three demon languages - and swearing in five, Emma would proudly add), Zoya was fluent in her native English, German and Latin. She could also understand bits and pieces of Welsh and several demon languages, but couldn't really speak them. "If I were to guess, she was going to say relationships."

"You're right there, Rosales," Zoya winked at the girl. "Em is not very good at them."

"I've been here for two months and you've forgotten three dates with Cameron, skipped his birthday, and now you've dumped him because it was a slow patrol night," Cristina said.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "He always wanted to play video games. I hate video games."

"No one is perfect, Emma."

"But some people are perfect for each other. Don't you think that has to be true?"

A hurt look passed over Cristina's face. It was quick, but not quick enough for Zoya not to notice it.

Although Cristina wasn't Los Angeles Institute's permanent resident, she had quickly grown on Emma and Zoya, stealing a part of their hearts as if she were the most skilled thief to walk the Earth. The two best friends didn't know her for long - not like they knew the Blackthorns - but there was something very likeable about the Rosales girl. She was kind and intelligent, loyal.

Cristina had never shared her reasons for leaving Mexico with Zoya and Emma, but the Caldwell girl knew there was something more to it. Something besides wanting to have fun while doing her traveling year far away from home.

"Well," Zoya spoke, saving Cristina from struggling. "Look at the brighter side of the situation, Em. You brought us along. At least you won't have to grieve alone."

"Zoya!" Emma punched the Caldwell girl's arm. "I don't know what the two of you are thinking, but I wasn't planning on dumping Cameron. We were here, and he called, and his face came up on my phone - well, actually a llama came up on my phone because I didn't have a picture of him so I just used a llama - and the llama made me so angry I just couldn't help myself."

"Angels," Zoya muttered. "What did the poor animal do? I mean, I would understand if you mentioned ducks, but a llama? Come on, Em. They're cute."

"Bad time to be a llama, I guess," Cristina shrugged her shoulders at Zoya.

"What is it with you and ducks, Zo? I never really understood that," Emma started drawing Sure-Footedness rune onto her arm. "Besides, is it ever a good time, really?"

Is it ever a good time for anything?

The question echoed in Zoya's mind. She often used to ask herself that question. When was the good time, right time? When was the right time to let go of the past? When was the good time to live and not just survive? When was the good time to start trusting people and begin letting them in?

Years ago, Zoya didn't know the answers to those questions. She still doesn't, but she knows that she can't wait to find out. She had a life to live and that meant that she had to discover answers along the way.

Her mind raced to the Blackthorns who were currently far away in England, her dear homeland.

With a twinge in her chest, Zoya realized how much she had missed them. Though she didn't open up to the family the moment she arrived in Los Angeles Institute, the thirteen year old girl quickly realized there wasn't much she could do on her own. She couldn't navigate around an unknown ground. She couldn't train alone. She couldn't patrol around the city alone. So, there wasn't much use in her original plan to isolate herself from the Blackthorn family.

Besides, she wasn't the only one to endure irreplaceable losses and have her heart shattered to tiniest pieces. Blackthorns and Emma had, much like Zoya, lost their entire families in the Dark War. That had to count for something.

And it did.

After several days of being locked in her own room and continuous refusal to be nice to the people who tried to lure her out of her comfort zone, Zoya had found her first real friend - a fearless blonde named Emma Carstairs.

The two of them befriended each other in the training room, making their ultimate goal to beat the other one in a sparring session. Ever since then, the two girls had become inseparable. They practiced together each day, went on occasional shopping sprees, spent endless hours jumping from one cliff to the other.

Persuaded by the Carstairs girl who gave her word that she would become her parabatai as soon as possible, Zoya Caldwell tore down her cold facade and approached the Blackthorns.

Much to Zoya's surprise, it was easy - getting to know the Blackthorns. It was even easier loving them - from Drusilla who was quite timid to Tiberius who was the biggest Sherlock Holmes lover. Each one of the siblings found their way into Zoya's broken heart.

Now that they were away in England, Zoya had finally realized just how much she had gotten used to them being around.

The summer had just started when they left for Sussex. According to Julian, the oldest Blackthorn boy and the most talented artist on the planet - as Zoya had humbly stated, they had to embark on a journey and visit their great-aunt Marjorie. She was quite old and it was only a matter of moments before her spirit would leave the land of the living.

Two months had passed since then and Zoya and Emma never got used to the unusual silence that engulfed the Institute. Livvy and Ty weren't there to argue and neither was little Tavvy who used to fall asleep on Zoya's chest as the girl whispered sweet stories into his ear. Dru wasn't there to engage in conversations about latest horror movies, either.

However, much to Zoya's surprise, Julian's absence hit her the worst.

The oldest Blackthorn boy was the closest thing Zoya had to a friend, besides her parabatai.

The two met on a stormy night. Thunders were shaking the Institute's ground, furious gusts of wind rattling the wooden persiennes that hid the glass windows. Lightning bolts danced angrily, spraying the dark, nightly canvas with milky lines.

Zoya couldn't sleep and seemingly, neither could Julian. Despite the deafening noises of the storm, the Blackthorn boy had managed to discern an angelic voice that rose above it all. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Zoya didn't particularly care about silencing herself or the closeness of their rooms, but ever since that night - the two broke the invisible barrier that separated them.

It was then that Zoya had realized that there was something special about Julian. He seemed to possess the power of making someone forget all about their pain and worries. It was a miracle, truly. Despite knowing the boy for over four years, Zoya had never figured out just how he had managed to cure the ache she felt, the pain that ebbed at her insides and slept in the pit of her stomach.

It was simple - grasping the fact that Zoya had missed Julian. The pain was back, knocking on the door of her soul, begging her to lead it inside. So was the ringing; the same ringing she had heard days before her parents were killed. The same ringing she had heard just before the Blackthorns had left Los Angeles.

The sound had burned her slowly at first, sneaking on her like a graceful lioness on a feeding antelope. Then, it attacked, spreading towards Zoya's heart like a raging fire. It permeated Zoya's soul, threatening to swallow her whole.

It was only one of many reasons why Zoya needed Julian to come back. The Blackthorn boy was the only one who knew about the buzzing noise that came before a hurricane. He was the only one who knew just how difficult it was for Zoya not to scream when the ringing splashed her and emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

"Diana will be pleased about you dumping Cameron, at least," Cristina pulled the Caldwell girl out of her thoughts. "I don't think she liked him."

Zoya smiled at the mention of Diana Wrayburn's name. She was the Blackthorn family's tutor. Armed with a fierce mind, always prepared to offer a solid argument, Diana was a force to be reckoned with.

"Diana just thinks all relationships are a distraction from studying," Emma pointed out. "Why date when you can learn an extra demonic language? I mean, who wouldn't want to know how to say 'Come here often?' in Purgatic?"

"You sound like Jaime. He hated studying," Cristina laughed, getting the girls' attention. Mentioning family or friends from Mexico City had been a rarity Zoya and Emma had seemed to not be deserving of. However, the parabatai warriors never pushed the Rosales girl; they knew how unpleasant it could be to speak of such themes to complete strangers. "But not Diego. He loved it. He did extra work for fun."

"You mean the perfect guy?" Zoya asked, glancing at Emma who was struggling with her stele. "Do you want me to put runes on you?"

The blonde nodded, telling her that she wanted the Farsighted one.

Zoya approached her, examining Emma's pale skin. Marked with several healed scars, the skin below the blonde's elbow was displayed to the black haired girl.

"Yes," Cristina's voice echoed in their ears. She was observing just how precisely Zoya had drawn the runes, making each curve elegant and sharp. "But I don't want to talk about Perfect Diego. My mother talks about him enough. Can I ask you something else?"

Emma nodded, her eyes glancing at her best friend. Zoya barely applied any pressure, but the stele felt pleasant against Emma's skin, familiar. Her heart had swollen at the sudden warmness; a wave of newfound strength had been poured into the blonde, shaking her to the core.

That's what parabatai runes did. They were stronger and offered more power than the ones given by other Shadowhunters.

"I know you wanted to come here because Johnny Rook told you that there have been bodies found with writing on them, and he thinks one will turn up here tonight."

"Correct," Emma said.

"I thought this was a regular patrol, Em," Zoya lifted her eyebrows. "When did you plan on sharing this with me?"

"I didn't want you to worry, Zo," the blonde said. "Especially not now."

'Especially not now' in Emma's language translated to 'Especially not on the upcoming anniversary of your parents' death', but Zoya let it slide. She had understood Emma's concern, but that didn't mean she was supposed to keep vital information from her and let her parade around without knowledge of what was really going on.

"It doesn't matter," the Caldwell girl stated. "We came here because you're obviously hoping the writing will be the same as the one on your parents' bodies."

She saw her friend tense. Zoya's words had hurt her, although it wasn't the girl's intention. There truly wasn't a different, more gentle way to bring up that topic of death.

"Yes."

"But the Clave says Sebastian Morgenstern murdered your parents," Cristina continued. "That is what Diana told me. Same as Zoya's. That's what they believe. But you don't believe it."

A pitiful laugh bubbled in Zoya's throat. The Clave. So called government of the Nephilim, made of all active Shadowhunters above eighteen years of age, was supposed to offer an equal voice to all. Of course, that wasn't necessarily the whole truth.

Like in the mundane world, some Shadowhunters possessed more power and influence than others, resembling nothing but a bunch of corrupted, bigoted politicians.

The Law is hard, but it is the Law.

In other words, Clave had wanted nothing but obedience coming from the Shadowhunters - no matter how hard it was to do so. The Law was everything, a rule to live by. Had someone tried to put their own selfish needs before it, their reputation would suffer - and in their world - reputation was everything. Shadowhunters' reputations were foundations to their lives and a springboard to their future.

Zoya hated the Clave for imposing such beliefs. Their word was final and had someone chosen to go against them, they would endure terrible consequences.

That's why Emma hated the Clave as well; they agreed far too easily that Sebastian Morgenstern was responsible for her parents' deaths, even though all evidence painted a different picture.

"No," Emma admitted. "I don't think so."

"Could you tell me why?" Cristina asked kindly, making Zoya glance away from the rune she was drawing.

"Sebastian Morgenstern was building an army," Emma diverted her gaze away from her friends. "He took Shadowhunters and turned them into monsters that served him. He didn't mark them up with demon languages written on their bodies and then dump them in the ocean. When the Nephilim tried to move my parents' bodies, they dissolved. That didn't happen to any of Sebastian's victims." Emma closed her eyes, her hand reaching for Zoya's free one. It was an unspoken act of comfort shared by two friends. Whenever one of the two felt down and upset, she would reach for the other's hand - it had meant that they weren't facing the difficult situation alone. "And - it's a feeling. Not a passing feeling. Something I've always believed. I believe it more every day. I believe my parents' deaths were different. And that laying them at Sebastian's door means-" Emma shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just rambling. Look, this is probably going to be nothing. You shouldn't worry about it."

"We only worry about you, Em," Zoya said, bringing the stele back against Emma's skin.

The blonde smiled at her parabatai, appreciating her caring side. "All done," Zoya announced, a grin spreading across her face as she glanced at the neat rune. The lines were sharp, intertwining perfectly beneath the silver glow of the moon.

"The only person I know who draws better runes than you do is Julian," Emma seemed impressed. "But he's an artist-"

"Julian, Julian, Julian," Cristina's voice mimicked Emma's. "Julian is a painter, Julian is a genius, Julian would know how to fix this, Julian could build that. You know, for the past seven weeks I've heard so many wonderful things about Julian I'm starting to worry that when I meet him I will fall in love with him instantly."

"You might," Zoya spoke. "He is truly as amazing as we told you, but then again - he is our best friend. We might be slightly biased."

"Honestly, I don't think he's your type," Emma added, brushing her hands down her legs. Zoya had noticed her eagerness to jump into a battle. "He's Zoya's type. She just doesn't want to admit it."

"Em," the black-haired girl sighed. "How many times do I have to repeat it to you? Julian and I are only friends."

"Cristina," Emma turned to the girl. "Do tell me, do only friends spend every other night locked up in each other's rooms under an excuse that 'they're making art'? Not to mention Jules left Zoya a parting gift."

Cristina's eyes widened upon registering the Carstairs girl's words. "You what? Wait, why didn't I know about this? What did he give you?"

"A polaroid picture I took of them," Emma stated, a smirk plastered on her face. "It's a cute one. They were all cuddled up on his bed. He had his arm around her-"

"Carstairs," Zoya hissed, a betraying blush tinting her cheeks. "I am going to push you off this roof if you continue this nonsense."

"As if you could, Caldwell," Emma chuckled. "We all know who is the better parabatai."

Cristina's gaze travelled from one girl to the other. "I always wanted a parabatai," she said. "Someone who is sworn to protect you and to watch your back. A best friend forever, for your whole life."

Zoya and Emma smiled at Cristina, aware of the fact that being parabatai didn't just mean you were friends for life, bound to fight for each other. It was a bond that was deeper than a friendship, closer than family. It was a bond that tied Zoya and Emma's hearts together, connecting them with an invisible, unbreakable string.

Together, they were stronger. Together, they were whole.

Entreat me not to leave thee

Or return from following after thee-

For whither thou goest, I will go,

And where thou lodges, I will lodge.

Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.

The Angel do so to me, and more also,

If aught but death part thee and me.

Despite Frederick Caldwell's persistent words of warning, Zoya truly believed that having a parabatai was a blessing. She had only realized that once she had gotten a rune on her skin, one that matched Emma's. Before that, she had lived in a world of darkness, too afraid of her father's warning that 'Caldwells were never supposed to have a parabatai'. Zoya never understood why he was so against the idea, but what she did know was that she didn't want to be alone anymore.

Having a warrior partner fulfilled Zoya's deepest wishes and the girl had - for the first time - felt as if Angels looked upon her. As if they had given her and Emma their blessing.

The two of them had made a promise to never spend another day alone. There wasn't a force on Earth that could separate them. They gave each other a promise to fight together, complement each other. A promise to protect each other at any cost.

"Well," Emma accepted her stele from Zoya, putting her back in her weapons belt. "The Blackthorns are coming back the day after tomorrow. You'll meet Jules then." Emma moved across the roof. "Do you see anything?"

"Nothing so far," Zoya announced.

"Maybe it's just a party," Cristina added.

"Johnny Rook was so sure," Emma insinuated.

"Didn't Diana specifically forbid you to go see him?"

"Do you honestly think that'll stop Emma from visiting him?" Zoya asked Cristina. "She is as stubborn as a mule."

"Hey! She may have told me to stop seeing him," Emma glared at her parabatai. "She may even have called him 'a criminal who commits crime', which I have to say struck me as harsh, but she didn't say I couldn't go to the Shadow Market."

"Do you really think she ought to do so?" Zoya uttered. "Shadowhunters aren't welcome there and you know it."

"What I know is that you love me, Zo," Emma smiled. "But, if I ran into Rook, say, at the Market, and he dropped some information while we were chatting and I accidentally let drop some money, who's to call that 'paying for information'? Just two friends, one careless with his gossip and the other one careless with her finances..."

"That's not the spirit of the Law, Emma. Remember?" Cristina scowled. "The Law is hard, but it is the Law."

"I thought it was 'the Law is annoying, but it is also flexible'."

"Good one, Em," Zoya laughed out of nowhere. She was usually the more grounded one of the two, but there were times when Emma's humor got the best of Zoya. It was one of the things Zoya had deeply cherished about her friend. She cherished it so much that she often forgot she was supposed to keep Emma from developing her ridiculous ideas further.

"You shouldn't encourage her, Zoya," Cristina said. "That is not the motto. And Diana is going to kill you."

"Not necessarily," the Caldwell girl turned to Cristina. "If we solve the murders, Diana might actually be pleased with us."

"The ends will justify the means," Emma nodded. "And if nothing happens, she never has to know about it. Right?"

The Rosales girl stayed silent.

"Right...?" Emma questioned again.

Cristina's gaze was focused underneath them. "Do you see?"

The parabatai followed Cristina's finger.

A tall, handsome man dressed in a tailored suit, passed the crowd. Men and women stared at him, as if enchanted.

"There is a glamour on him," Cristina pointed out. It wasn't odd to see Downworlders using a covering spell, protecting themselves from the curious gazes of mundanes. Shadowhunters had runes that allowed them the same thing. "The question is, vampire or fey?"

"Fey," Zoya concluded, having seen the man approached by an equally beautiful woman. Her long fingers unclasped a shiny, golden necklace and slid it into the man's outstretched hand. They both smiled widely while exchanging information. "That slightly complicates our situation. Cold Peace forbids us from interfering."

Emma and Cristina were aware of that. According to the Law, underage Shadowhunters weren't to associate themselves with faeries. Faeries are cursed, the Clave had said. And although Zoya had been aware of their wickedness, she couldn't deny that the Cold Peace brought them no justice. Their rights have been practically reduced to nothing.

"Zo is right," Emma drew a small bag and tied it at the top, attaching it to her belt. Her hazel orbs never left the seducing faerie. "Vampires don't care about gold, but the Fair Folk pay tribute to their King and Queen in gold and gems and other treasure."

"I have heard the Court of the Unseelie pays it in blood," Cristina said.

"Not tonight," Emma said, dropping the contents of her bag onto the faerie's head.

A loud cry filled the air, followed by an unpleasant melody of high pitched screams. The mundanes could see the fey, his glamour shattering like a broken mirror. Zoya couldn't help herself but laugh at the sight. The fey resembled a walking tree.

"Emma," Cristina warned. "We should stop this now - call the Silent Brothers-"

But Emma was already in midair when Cristina turned to her. Instead of Emma, Cristina had glanced at her parabatai.

"Cristina Rosales," Zoya smiled. "This is Emma Carstairs for you. Now, do excuse me, I think the parabatai oath says 'Entreat me not to leave thee or return from following after thee - for whither thou ghoest and doest something stupid, I shall do the same'."

Then, Zoya jumped. Wind tickled her skin, ruffling her black locks. As silently as possible, Zoya landed. It was an effortless jump, one she had practiced many times.

"Shadowhunters," the faerie hissed, facing Emma and Zoya. His cat-like eyes committed murders, his teeth barring at the female pair.

Chaos erupted around them; guests ran around, desperate to find the nearest escape route.

Emma reached for Cortana, drawing her effortlessly. Flickers of gold danced around the weapon. "No. I'm a candygram. This is my costume."

Their opponent kept a blank face. "They never get it, Em," Zoya regarded the non-existent sense of humor the Fair Fork had. Next, her palm retracted Lazarus, pointing the sharp tip of her glowing weapon toward the faerie.

"We are well known for our jests, japes, and ballads," he said. "Some of our ballads last for weeks."

"Can I kill him?" Emma turned to Zoya.

The girl's eyes widened to the question. "No!"

"Just a little bit?" Emma asked.

"I'll kill you if you don't shut up, Em," Zoya threatened.

"Oh, well," the blonde returned her gaze to the faerie. "Your lucky day. We are Shadowhunters. Quip fast, die young. Now turn out your pockets."

"I have done nothing to break the Cold Peace," he defended himself.

"Technically true, but we do frown on stealing from mundanes. Turn out your pockets or I'll rip off one of your horns and shove it where the sun doesn't shine."

A puzzled look crossed his features again. "Where does the sun not shine? Is that a riddle?"

"You're going to wish it were if you don't turn out your pockets now," Zoya's patience ran away like grains of sand in an hourglass. Lazarus' sharp tip was nearing the faerie's neck. "Emma broke up with her boyfriend and I have better things to do. Pissing us off right now is the worst thing you can do."

Golden necklace, along with other precious possessions of mundanes, met the ground. "So you're single," his glare connected with Emma's. "I never would have guessed."

"Now that is simply rude," a gasp was heard above their heads.

"Thank you, Cristina," Emma nodded. "That was a low blow. And for your information, faerie guy, I broke up with him."

"Although I don't know why," Cristina added. "He was very nice."

"The Ashdowns and the Carstairs don't get along," Emma said, examining the faerie who was still laying down mundanes' belongings. "It's a well-known fact."

"Carstairs," he suddenly stopped. His mouth tasted the name as if it were a poison. "You are Emma Carstairs?"

Zoya's eyebrows furrowed. "You know her?"

"I really don't think we've met," Emma blinked. "I'd remember a talking tree."

"Would you?" He spat. "I would have expected more courteous treatment. Or have you and your Institute friends forgotten Mark Blackthorn so quickly?"

"Mark?" Zoya saw her parabatai freeze.

It was a well known name in the lands of faeries, as well as in their own. Zoya remembered Julian talking about him; although his brother was a Shadowhunter, he was also part fey. He was sixteen years old when he was taken away from the Los Angeles Institute and forced to join the Wild Hunt.

"Emma!" Cristina yelled as the fey whipped a diamond necklace at the blonde. She had moved away quickly, but the sharp edge of the chain had scratched her chin. "He went through here," Cristina stood at the emergency exit.

"Zoya," Emma voiced out her parabatai's name, nodding toward the door. Zoya didn't need anything else. In sync, they had kicked the door open, running into an alley behind the bar.

Cristina was following them, cascading behind. The three girls were embraced in an unpleasant hug of darkness. It had been so thick that Zoya had to ask Emma to draw a quick Farsighted rune, just so she could see a few meters before her.

Unfortunately, not even the rune helped in locating their refugee. Zoya was aware of Faeries' incredible speed, but she couldn't believe that he managed to escape them into an alley and put two dumpsters together to prevent them from following.

Luckily for them, Zoya was an excellent climber. After a short run and a swift flung, the Caldwell girl had found herself on top of the dumpsters, offering her hands to Emma and Cristina.

"Look," Emma muttered, pointing to her feet. Underneath her boots were pieces of clothes, human and wet. An unpleasant stench penetrated their nostrils, making them squeeze their eyes for a moment.

An exclamation in Spanish came before Zoya felt Cristina's arms around her torso. She was pulled behind, harshly.

"What-"

Then, Zoya saw it. A body - human body.

It belonged to a middle-aged man with long silver hair. He was burly looking, with skin that was decorated in red and black burns. His clothes were ripped apart.

Runes.

They were black, a contrast to the color of his skin. They resembled Shadowhunter marks, but twisted more. Like the pictures of runes on Emma's parents' bodies.

Could it be?

"Are you all right?" Cristina dared ask the question.

But Emma wasn't all right. Zoya had known. A bearable pressure Emma had applied to her arm was just one of the proofs.

Then, as Cristina had sent a concerned glance in her direction, Zoya had become aware of her silent suggestion. 

They had no choice. They had to call Diana and the Silent Brothers.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

➥ NOTE:

Hello, lovely people!

Wow, this was one long chapter. It has around 6K words - like, what? The thing is, I have reduced the number of words - couldn't do much more about it. 

Anyway, I want to hear from you. How do we like the dynamics between Emma and Zoya? How about their dynamic with Cristina? I am super excited to write this and would really appreciate to have some feedback from you guys.

Hope you're having a great day! And - in case nobody told you this today - you are amazing.