Disclaimer: all settings, characters (apart from Philip and Grace) and the main story plot belong to the magnificent Cassandra Clare. Grace, Philip, and my own story plot belong to me. I sadly do not own the Infernal Devices.

A/N: Hiya guys! So the timings in this book for when events happen are going to be slightly different in my fanfic. They'll only be off by a couple of days though. Also, picture above is just a random poster that I thought was cool, and it has a quote from Sophie! Enjoy the chapter ;)

This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful @m4dl4a for your consistently kind and supportive comments! Thank you so much for being awesome!

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'That it's too late to apologize
It's too late
Said it's too late to apologize
It's too late.'

- Apologize, Timbaland

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-*-*-*-*- Grace -*-*-*-*-

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Slewford shouted as soon as he was standing back on his stool. Like a magnet, everyone in the club zipped towards him, crowding around the ring. "Downworlders of London, oh I have a very special treat for you tonight, my friends." The crowd cheered, demanding to know what Slewford was planning.

Grace leant on the post in one corner of the ring, her hood still up, hiding her face. Her eagle eyes were watching each member of the crowd carefully, assessing each weakness. Her competitor could be anyone, so she had to be prepared.

"Tonight, I bring you a fight worthy of your time, money and commitment to this club. A fight that will render you dumbfounded by the time you leave tonight," Slewford yelled. "Since the Accords, we Downworlders have been stripped of everything! The Shadowhunters claim that all is fair in this world, but they lie to us all!"

The crowd roared and Grace winced. This was getting a little out of hand.

"But what can we do against them?" Slewford asked. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, Montgomery Slewford now brings you the answer!" He jerked a finger at Grace. Every gaze in the room snapped to her as she drew down her hood. There was a collective gasp.

"Slewford, you idiot!" someone cried. "She's a bloody Shadowhunter! She'll report us to the Clave!" The room descended into chaos. Slewford looked calm as he drew his revolver, aiming upwards and pulling the trigger.

"My friends," he said as the room fell silent again. "This Shadowhunter will not report us to the Clave. She desperately needs something from us, and this was my price: the best entertainment for you! A Shadowhunter needs something from us... I intend to make full use of that. And besides, if she reports us, she'll never get out of London alive!"

There was another yell from the crowd as they saw sense.

"And now," Slewford cried, "Who will be the first to fight this Shadowhunter to the death!? Who will be the first to shed Shadowhunter blood!? Who will be the first to avenge himself for the Nephilms' ill treatment of us!?" Someone in the crowd pushed forward. Grace watch as a young werewolf, no older than herself, yanked himself up into the ring. He paraded around as the crowd cheered him on, yelling and shouting.

"And we have our first competitor!" Slewford announced. "Mr Samuels verses Miss Blackthorn. Please, place your bets, ladies and gentlemen for tonight's exciting match up!" Grace tied back her hair then shook off her jacket, rolling her shoulders. She then unhooked her crystal from her chain, placing it carefully on her folded up jacket. Jem could not know what she was up to, so best for his crystal to register nothing at all, no matter how much it worried him.

Across from her in the opposite corner, Samuels took off his shirt, exposing raw muscle underneath but she wasn't worried. He was young, inexperienced, and so would have plenty of weaknesses when it came to the fight. Yes, werewolves were strong, but so were Shadowhunters. And she was smarter. She could do this.

"All right then, folks," Slewford said. "All bets are in! Let us see some Shadowhunter blood!" He held up his hand.

"Five!" he yelled. "Four!" The crowd joined in on the count down.

"Three! Two! One!" they shouted. "FIGHT!" A bell rung and Samuels launched himself at Grace, completely catching her off guard. She dove to her left, breaking into a roll and landing in a crouched. Samuels whipped around to face her, his nails growing into claws and his teeth sharp. Grace drew a small dagger, the only thing that Slewford allowed her to keep.

"Die, Shadowhunter scum," the werewolf snarled. Grace smirked, gesturing for him to come at her.

"Bring it on, mutt," she said. He swiped at her with his claws. She ducked and slashed up, catching his arm with the knife. He howled but it was only a small gash, not enough to stop him.

He came at her again, this time opting for an uppercut to the stomach. She couldn't dodge it and his fist slammed into her rib cage. Grace gagged as the wind was knocked out of her from the werewolf's powerful punch. Before she could recover, Samuels raked his claws across her cheek.

The crowd roared, screaming for more blood. "What a blow from Samuels!" Slewford yelled. "But we want a little more blood spilled than that."

Grace ripped herself from Samuels' grip, dropping to the floor and sweeping his legs from underneath him. He fell hard, landing on his back. She stabbed down with her knife but only managed to catch his shoulder. He roared but kicked out, landing a round house kicked straight to her head. Luckily it was a weak kick, not enough to do real damage. Grace fell to the side but sprang to her feet, ignoring the dull thud where she had just taken the blow.

Samuels yanked out her knife from his shoulder, throwing it behind him. "If that was silver," he said. "I would have been very unhappy."

"I won't make the same mistake next time," Grace replied. This time, she made the first move. Faking left, she kicked Samuels in the stomach. He doubled up, cursing. Grace jumped and slammed both elbows right between his shoulders blades. He went down, but grabbed her right ankle as she landed, twisting it painfully.

She cried out, earning another cheer from the crowd. "Oh dear," Slewford said with fake sympathy. "Look's like our little Shadowhunter may be in a bit of trouble. So much for the Angel's warriors."

Samuels pressed his knee into Grace's stomach, cutting off her air and pinning her to the floor. "I'm going to rip your throat out!" he snarled down at her. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth sharpened Grace's senses. Across the floor was her knife that Samuels had thrown away earlier, glinting evilly. She tried to wriggle free from his grip but he held strong.

"Time for you to die," he said, raising his claws. Suddenly, she exploded into action, smashing her knee right where she knew it would hurt. He groaned and rolled off her long enough for her to dive for the knife, scrambling across the floor. Behind her, Samuels was charging at her, going in for the kill. Stretching out, her fingers found the handle and she turned, sliding the blade right into his chest as he lunged at her.

The crowd went quiet as Samuels froze, staring down at the knife protruding from his chest with a surprised look on his face. As took his last, rattling breaths, he spat blood into Grace's face. "I hope you die in this arena, you piece of-" he never finished. He fell to the side and was still.

Grace sat back on her elbows and caught her breath as the club goers grumpily paid up their bets.

Not many had thought she would win.

Her cheek felt like it was on fire and her lip swollen, but she didn't have a stele on her so her injuries would have to wait.

Dragging herself to her feet, she limped her way to Slewford who did not look pleased. "I won fair and square," she told him. "So pay up. Now." He went into his pocket and drew out a small packet of yin fen.

"That's all you're getting," he said. "Take it and get out of here."

"See you tomorrow night then," she said, taking the packet and slipping out the back door.

-*-*-*-*- Will -*-*-*-*-

"So I was thinking that we could go on a patrol tonight," a fifteen year old Will said to his parabatai. "We haven't done anything in ages and I am so bored." Jem turned and gave him a small smile over his violin which he was playing. His hair had streaks of silver in it, but much more than when he first arrived.

"Are you asking me this now to stop me playing my violin?" he asked coyly.

"Perhaps," Will said with a smirk. "I still can't understand how no cats ever wonder into your room when you play it." Jem rolled his eyes at him but set the instrument back into its case and carefully placing it in the trunk at the end of the bed.

"If you wish, William," he replied. "I know you'll just go anyway so I might as well keep an eye on you." Will opened his mouth to come out with some sarcastic remark but there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Jem called. A younger Sophie opened the door holding a silver palette with a letter.

"There's a letter for you, Master Jem," she said, not looking either of the boys in the eye. Jem only smiled and took the envelope.

"Thank you, Sophie," he said. "That'll be all." Sophie curtsied then exited.

"Who's the letter from?" Will asked as soon as she had left. Jem chuckled.

"I don't know as I haven't opened it yet," he pointed out. "And is it really any of your business?"  This wasn't unkind, but in a joking kind of mood. Will pretended to pout as Jem broke the seal with a laugh.

"Oh, its from my uncle," he said cheerfully. "Grace we'll have to read this too. It's been a while since we heard from him." As his eyes scanned the contents, the smile on his lips slipped and faded, his silver eyes darkening.

"Jem?" Will asked, rising from his seat and placing a hand on his parabatai's shoulder. "James, what is it? Is everything all right?" The letter fluttered to the floor out of his fingers as he  sank down on the edge of his bed.

"He's gone," he whispered, his shaking hands raking through his hair.

"Who's gone?" Will asked. He swept up the letter from the floor and read it through, not worrying that it was Jem's private correspondence.

My dear niece and nephew,

I apologise for not contacting you sooner but my hands have been rather full here in Shanghai, and I could not bear to send you news of your home without any good in it.

As you well know, I sent you away from Shanghai for your own safety. Many of us feared that, because it killed your parents, the Greater Demon Yanluo would try to finish the Carstairs line by ending your lives too. It was a difficult decision but I owed it to your father to keep you as safe as I could.

However, you must live in fear no longer. For the last four years, we have hunted Yanluo but now, we have finally avenged your parents and killed it. He has been banished from this Earth almost entirely, apart from the piece of its consciousness that remains with you, Grace.

Now that you are safe, I want to invite you two to live with me in Idris. We have been kept apart as a family for too long and I believe that now is the right time for us to fix this. Also, with both of your healths to consider, I believe a calmer environment in Idris will help you both.

I urge you to think carefully about your decision and I eagerly await your reply, my dear children.

All my love,

Your Uncle Elias

P.S: James, please keep an eye on your sister. I fear the death of Yanluo may provoke the beast within her which could cause her pain. Please stay with her until you are sure that she is safe.

Will stared in silence at the letter, his gut contracting. Yanluo was dead, which meant Jem and Grace could now live with their uncle, their family. But where did that leave him? Alone in this great city. Alone with his curse, which they didn't know about so it would hardly be fair to ask them to stay when they didn't have a reason to.

"You should go," he said to Jem, handing back the letter and turning away. "Live with your uncle. It'll help you both." Jem took Will's wrist and spun him around.

"Did you really think that I'd leave you just like that?" he asked. "I'm your parabatai, Will, and parabatai do not leave each other's sides no matter what." Will thought he was going to sob with relief but before he could say anything, a piercing scream ripped through the quiet air of the Institute. Both boys snapped their heads up.

"Grace," Jem whispered. "Oh God, my uncle was right." He leapt from the bed and ran to the door, Will just behind him.

***

Will jerked awake from his dream, sitting bolt right up. His breathing was sharp and shallow. It was just a memory; it didn't mean anything.

But inside he felt the same panic now as he did then when he thought Grace and Jem were going to leave him. They still could, just not in the same way.

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Hello everyone!

Such a Will and Jem moment there ;) Just a little memory at the end there because I really couldn't think of anything else to fill up the rest of the chapter. But I always wondered how Jem reacted to Yanluo being killed, so there you go.

I hope you enjoyed this one! What on Earth does Grace think she's doing?!

Vote and comment your thoughts as always please!

Love y'all!