Disclaimer: SOME of the dialogue in this chapter, all characters (but Grace and Philip), the main settings and story line belong to the awesome Cassie Clare. I only own Grace, Philip and my own plot. All rights for the Infernal Devices go to Cassandra Clare.

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'I'm stumbling off drunk, getting myself lost
I am so gone, so tell me the way home
I listen to sad songs, singing about love
And where it goes wrong.'

- One, Ed Sheeran

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-*-*-*-*- Grace -*-*-*-*-
"I know you probably can't hear me..." Will's voice echoed around the halls as Grace ran, hitching up the skirts of her wedding dress. All thoughts of the Great Room were gone from her head.

"Will!" She shouted. "Will, I'm here!" His voice travelled down another corridor. Grace bounced off the wall and took the corner at full speed...well, as fast as she could with the heavy gown she had to endure. God damn Jessamine for making those adjustments.

"It's my fault you're in this position in the first place, but I don't see how it can get any worse so I'm just going to ahead..." Will sounded so heartbroken and desperate that it wrenched Grace's heart. What was wrong with him? What had happened?

She carried on running until Will's voice stopped outside another door. She broke through it, finding the room empty apart from a single orb of light, floating right in front of her face.

Grace circled it, careful to keep her distance. Will's voice was definitely coming from it. Tentatively, Grace reached out to touch it. As soon as her index finger brushed the light, she was shot forwards past a dark roaring figure and red flames until she found herself in a cold room. Everything was blurry and unfocussed, but she could make out Will's sharp figure stumbling back from her.

"Grace?" He asked, his voice echoing about her skull. Grace didn't know exactly what she said next, something to do with the angel's ward. Maybe Will could find the person who was meant to help her. She tried to pull free of the demon who was clawing at her, trying to pull her back down into her prison. Grace fought as hard as she could but eventually, Yanluo won out. Grace got dragged back through the red fire and dumped back into her prison. Just before she lost consciousness, she saw a dark figure leaning down and extending a hand towards her...

***

When Grace opened her eyes, she was still in the same room she'd found the light but it was gone now. She stood, realising she was no longer wearing her heavy wedding dress. Instead, she was decked out in gear and seraph blades. She had so many weapons, she could have been mistaken for charging into battle.

Slowly and carefully, Grace opened the door and stepped out into the hall. It was quiet and lit faintly by witchlight but the paintings and the wallpaper seemed grey, almost faded.

What was Yanluo up to?

Grace crept down the corridor, covering at every door way and every corner. The demon had obviously abandoned trying to confuse her with the life she could have had. It was trying a different tactic, but the question was, what?

A sound! Grace's slow pace turned into a sprint as she legged it down the corridor towards the voice. She rounded the corner and found herself in front of the doors to the Great Room. A man stood in front of them, dressed in black and his hands calmly clasped behind him. He was certainly no angel.

"I wondered when you'd show your ugly face," Grace snarled at him. He smiled and laughed. His laugh was cold and just plain evil. Grace knew that mocking sound all too well.

"You were proving difficult to contain," Yanluo said. "I thought it was time to...change it up, as the people of the future will say."

"What do you want?" Grace asked, her hand inching towards a runed dagger in her belt. "What could you possibly need? You've got me trapped in here."

"What I've always wanted," Yanluo replied. "For you to be my weapon."

"I wasn't your best choice, was I?" she said.

"As that warlock, Bane, said," Yanluo said. "You were never meant to be the soldier I needed. But I was blinded by my hate for your mother, so I used you and your brother to get to her. I had the plan to use a Shadowhunter for many years, but I was impatient and used you, a weak and stupid little girl. But no matter, you have grown stronger.

"Once Mortmain has completed his side of the deal, I shall use you to wipe the Shadowhunters from this Earth. What better way to strike fear into the hearts of the Angel's warriors? But I won't kill your brother, oh no. I'll make him suffer first. I will let you wake so you can see the pain you caused him, so you can watch the light fade from his eyes and then I'll kill the you. The Carstairs will finally be wiped from the face of the Earth like they never existed at all! You will be the one to end your brother's life!"

"You will not touch my brother," Grace said, her voice ferocious and determined. "And you're right, I am stronger now. I can defeat you!" Grace snatched her dagger from her belt and threw it directly at Yanluo's heart all within a single second. But to her dismay, Yanluo caught the spinning knife an inch from his chest.

"Oh, Grace," he sighed with fake sympathy. "I'm inside your head. Did you really think you could outwit me?" Suddenly he began to morph and change into his true form. Grace backed away, her heart lurching and slamming against her rib cage.

"Let's see how long you can survive, Grace Carstairs," Yanluo hissed. "Better run, little Shadowhunter." And Grace did, sprinting down the corridors, trying to fight the darkness behind her.

-*-*-*-*- Jem -*-*-*-*-

Jem sat in the carriage as it rattled along the cobbled streets. Tessa sat opposite, her gloved hands clasped together tightly. He could tell she was nervous and maybe afraid, but she didn't show it. Only a trained Shadowhunter eye would be able to detain anything emotion from her. Jem admired her for that.

"When we get to the Silent City," Jem told her, leaning forward. "I need you to stay in the carriage with Cyril."

"Why?" Tessa asked.

"Because it's not the warmest place in the world," Jem said. "You won't want to go in there." She studied him for a moment.

"Jem, is it because it's hard for you to go in there and you don't want me to see?" Tessa inquired gently. "Is it because it brings back memories from your time there as a child? Memories of Grace?" Jem looked up sharply. He didn't get to say anything as Cyril stopped the carriage.

"We're here, Master Jem," he called down.

"Thank you, Cyril!" Jem shouted up. He turned back to Tessa. "Please, stay here. I won't be long." Jem jumped out of the carriage and shut the door firmly behind him.

He trudged up to the gates but was stopped by Brother Enoch who just appeared out of the mist. "I cannot allow you in, James," he said. "The Consul has given an order."

"I am not here to see Grace," Jem said, choosing not to react to the Consul's order...for now. "A few days ago, my parabatai, one William Herondale, went missing. I have reason to believe that he may have come here. We received a letter and my crystal lit up for the first time in weeks."

"He did visit," Brother Enoch said. "But that was many hours ago. Grace must have had a delayed reaction so you only knew of it now. Though I will say, he was not in the best of shape after he left. It is no business of mine, but he sounded...desperate whilst he was with Grace."

"You let him in?" Jem asked. Brother Enoch didn't reply.

"Good luck with your search," he said. "I will contact you soon and give you an update on your sister."

"Thank you, Brother Enoch," Jem replied. He swiftly turned and ran back to the carriage.

"He was here," Jem said breathlessly to Tessa as he shut the door. "Brother Enoch said he was. But something's wrong, just like we thought. Apparently Will came here for a reason."

"Do you have any idea where he is?" Tessa asked, biting her lip. Jem brought out Will's father's dagger.

"I can track him with this," he said, drawing a rune on the back of his hand. He closed his eyes and concentrated, picturing Will's face in his mind's eye. He caught a glimpse, a fleeting image of a street name then it was gone.

"Whitechapel," Jem whispered. "God, why would he go there at this time of night?" He called up to Cyril who set the carriage in motion as fast as he possibly could. Jem hadn't told him the reason why they were out, but he knew Cyril could sense it was important.

"Jem..." Tessa said. "You'd- What I mean to say is, you would know if Will had.."

"Got himself hurt badly?" Jem asked. He looked away out of the window. "I would know."

"But what if he-?"

"Tessa, I promise you, I would know if he were alive or dead," Jem said, a little more harshly than he intended. "It's what comes with being parabatai." Tessa sat back but her hands were still clamped together. Jem so wanted to take her hands and promise her it was all going to be all right. But she'd probably shove him away and he had no idea whether or not it was going to be all right.

Cyril slowed the carriage down as they descended down the winding streets of Whitechapel. "You have to stay very close to me when we get out," Jem said to Tessa. "I can't glamour you from sight so don't wander too far from my side. It's a dangerous place, Whitechapel."

"Perhaps that's the reason Will came here," Tessa muttered.

"Perhaps," Jem said softly. "But whatever the reason is, I think we can guarantee that it has something to do with his sister...and Grace."

The carriage stopped and Jem hopped out, helping Tessa down after him. Tessa held onto his arm as Jem lead the way to the red door. A warlock in an extremely tight dress opened it. Jem only had to say a few words before she reluctantly stepped aside, on the condition that he'd cause no trouble.

He and Tessa walked slowly into the den, Jem watching everyone with very careful eyes. He could smell the sickly sweet odour of demon drugs and faerie powders swirling the room. His heart was thudding against his chest. Tessa was looking at him with concern. He swallowed. He couldn't show weakness with her here.

"This is where Will and Grace go to buy...well, they come here to buy what I need," Jem whispered to Tessa.

"Grace goes with Will?" Tessa asked, a little shocked. "I didn't think this was not the place for a lady, even one as tough as Grace." Before Jem could reply, he saw the warlock woman talking to one of the ifrits and the table. She sauntered up to him.

"We have what you want, little silver Shadowhunter," she laughed as she stroked his cheek. Jem flinched away, feeling unnerved. God, he hated these places.

"I told you," he said coldly. "We are here for a friend." The warlock snarled at him.

"You fool," she said. "There isn't much yin fen left, and when it's gone, you will die!" Jem flinched at every word. It was almost gone? How could they not have known this?

"Spare us your attempts to sell you merchandise," Tessa snapped angrily. "Now tell us where out friend is and we'll be going." The warlock shrugged and pointed to one of the beds bolted to the wall.

Jem stiffened and felt the blood drain from his face. He stalked across the room, stopping at one of the beds near the end. "Will," he whispered, shaking his shoulder. "Will, wake up." He didn't look good, that much Jem could tell. His cheeks were red with fever, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His breathing was ragged as if he almost couldn't breathe at all.

Jem stood back and just stared as Tessa tried desperately to wake him up.

How could Will have done this? Jem understood he was upset about Cecily, and about Grace. Maybe, like Jem, it was all becoming too much for him. Maybe Will came here because he was on the verge of collapsing. But to abuse the very thing that was killing Jem, just so he could escape...Jem couldn't believe Will could ever be so cruel.

"Jem," Tessa was saying to him. "Jem, if you don't help me get him out of here, I swear I will Change into you and everybody here will see what you look like in a dress. Do you understand?"

Jem looked at her. "Do you?" he asked bitterly. He retrieved Will's weapons and helped Tessa lift him. "Let me go," Will muttered. Jem stood back to hunt for Will's jacket in the tangle of bed sheets. Will was nuzzling his face into Tessa's neck. Tessa looked to Jem for help, so he felt obliged to drag Will back though the den and out into the street. Cyril was still with the carriage and he jumped down to take Will from Tessa.

"Let me go," Will said angrily. "Let me go. I can stand perfectly well on my own." Jem glanced at Cyril and they both released him. "You did not have to come and fetch me like I was a child," Will continued, directing every word at Jem. "I was having a pleasant time on my own." Jem did a double take, anger swelling in his chest. For almost six years he had tolerated Will when he acted like this. But this was too much.

"God damn you," he said and swung his fist, connecting with Will's jaw. Will stumbled back against the carriage, looking shocked. "And Grace would have hit you a lot harder!" Jem snarled and stormed back to the ifrit's den to pay for Will's drugs.

"Oh Grace," he whispered into the night. "We need you back. We're not going to survive without you. I fear we're going to tear each other apart." Jem never thought he'd be like this, but right now, he needed someone to blame. Instead of taking out his anger on Will, Jem had to find Mortmain and kill him for ripping apart his family.

He had nothing more to lose now.

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Sorry this was a little late but this took me a while to edit.

Hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to vote and comment!

Love y'all!