“No way are you going in that,” Laressa looked at Chantelle disapprovingly as she stepped out of the room.

“What? Ares is in Hell now and you’re worried about my fashion choices?”

“Since when did you get so grumpy? I thought that was Ares’ job and your job was to shut him up.”

“You make me sound like I’m your servant.” Groaned Chantelle, but Laressa caught a glint of a smile. “Ah, there she is. The Chantelle Carstairs I know is back.”

Chantelle rolled her eyes teasingly. “Whatever. And you liked my fashion choices.”

“To be honest, yours is the best I met, not counting me of course. And wear something—how do I put this nicely—sluttier.”

“Ew. Just ew. And no way, this is the best I can go.” Chantelle tugged at her v-shape and short red dress that wrapped around her legs tightly. “This already makes me look like a slut.”

“You’re going to the High Warlock’s party. You can’t be the pure Chantelle Carstairs you are.” A grin crept up her face. “Hey, they say Clarissa Herondale and Isabelle Lightwood had a conversation like this before, then went to crash Magnus’ party.”

“We aren’t exactly crashing it, and how did you know?”

Laressa examined a fingernail in a mighty sort of manner. “I have my sources.” She said in a British accent, and Chantelle couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, Laressa Sophia Lightwood, go get your own TV show.”

***

They stood just outside Magnus Bane’s door and Chantelle took out her stele.

“I wish Ares was here.” Chantelle sighed softly to Zachary as she drew a rune with her stele. Last night she had met with Ares and told him the plan, but only briefly, for Chantelle needed rest for today’s challenge—convincing the High Warlock of Los Angeles.

“Bear with it.” Zachary gave her an encouraging smile. The last time he met Ares, Ares wanted him to take good care of Chantelle, and so he shall.

After drawing the rune, the person in front of it was ‘distracted’, and they snuck into the party. Today they didn’t come as Shadowhunters, so they tried not to wear black (though it was the color they were used to) and made sure to fit in the best they could. Each of them were to split up, and they had different features of their own to make them blend in. Chantelle and Laressa were dressed up as faeries, and Zachary and Andre, werewolves. Of course, the others would not recognize them, so they could only hope for the alcohol to have excellent effects, and that the fact that they were trained for stealth.

“Take this side.” Laressa said as Zachary and Andre broke away from the group. Luckily, the werewolves decided to keep their human state under control today, and Zachary and Andre looked almost like one of them. But a conscious sniff could distinguish the brothers as Nephilim.

Suddenly, Laressa felt her eyes flicker by themselves to a tank of pink liquid. It was glittery— and something about it was attractive, and Laressa found herself stepping forward. All her defences went down—she was making an unconscious effort to get to that tank. “It’s… so pretty.” She said in a high-pitched tone, walking forward, as though something was pulling forward. Someone nearby—Laressa was too distracted to notice his features—grinned, but it was an evil one. He dipped a glass inside and handed the now-filled glass to Laressa, who rocked it gently to see a gentle swirl. It was beautiful, so extremely beautiful—

“Laressa!” Came a hiss and someone snatched the glass away. Laressa snapped out of her earlier attractions. “By the—I leave you to check on someone for a second and you fall into the faeries’ ploy.” Chantelle corrected her ‘by the angel’ words that were nearly uttered, for only Nephilim said that. She gave a disapproving look to Laressa, before walking over to someone who was drunk, but away. She gave a sweet smile, tilting her head a little. “Oh dear, I seem to be unable to finish this drink! Would you care to drink this for me?”

He gave a smile. A dirty one, truth be told. “Of course, and later, if you want to see the world, find me at the alley.”

Chantelle giggled and blew a kiss, walking back to Laressa. Of course, she was never usually the flirtatious type.

“Wow. Flirt alert.” Laressa said.

“Careful, soldier. I’m not the one who has fun at night in bedrooms instead of sleeping every day. And I was merely helping you get rid of that faerie drink. You can’t just pour it away. And you’re welcome.”

You see, faeries aren’t the nice people who grant you wishes, like what you read in fairy tales. Over here, they’re the cunning people. They can only tell the truth, until it was found that they could lie under some conditions. They believe in creative truth telling and only do what reaps profits. Be careful when dealing with them. That drink was a faerie drink, one that could attract anyone unsuspecting. Laressa had fallen prey, thank goodness Chantelle was around, alert for such drinks or tricks or the faeries. If you drink or eat things from faeries, you become one of theirs, or terrible things could rain down on you. In short, don’t consume anything at Downworld parties.

“Think it’ll make that drunk guy give up some information?” Laressa raised an eyebrow. Chantelle nodded and they headed over to him.

“Hey. And you brought a friend! Excellent choice, for I am a great tour guide.” He leaned closer to the girls, smelling of alcohol.

Chantelle giggled. “We’re just curious, tour guide, if you know anything about… Death… and Hell?”

He was more alert, proof he knew something. “Whatever will interest you two ladies about such… depressing things?”

“Oh, just a favor from someone.” Laressa giggled, knocking him gently on the shoulder. “Please help us damsels in distress.”

He was hesitant, but he finally gave in. “They’re real. I’m not sure how to get there though, but I know someone who does. Someone who doesn’t know he knows. This is Magnus Bane’s party. He has lived for so long, he should know.” He grinned. “Shall we?”

And so Laressa and Chantelle led him off to that alley, and Chantelle slammed his head hard against the wall. “This is what you get you filthy son of a—“ Oomph. Despite being intoxicated, he managed to grab Chantelle’s hair hard, forcing her off him. Laressa’s whip curled around him, and he let go of Chantelle, yelling.

“It took hours to style that!” Laressa growled, as Chantelle knocked the guy over. Chantelle slammed hard into his chest, so hard it knocked the breath out of his chest briefly.

“This will teach you a lesson to get your filthy hands of me.” Chantelle pulled the man back, nails digging into his skin, whispering into his ear. “Say goodbye.” She twisted him, and Laressa advanced to make the kill. His head cracked from his body, and he was dead.

“Never seen you so bloodlust.” Laressa whipped around, kicking the remains behind a Dumpster. The floor was pretty okay, but the wall was covered with blood. It was true. There was anger in Chantelle’s eyes, her styled hair hanging loose, whipping around in the wind, and she had blood on her face.

“I dislike people wanting to take advantage of me like that.” She said, wiping away the blood on her face. She was careful with her dress, and only a small part was torn. Damn, she liked that dress. “I had to make up of those… actions.”

“Well, I think you did just that. That was amazing. Keep it up in the Shadow Trials. We girls ain’t so bad after all.”

Chantelle grinned. “Let’s go find Magnus Bane.”

***

Zachary and Andre saw Chantelle and Laressa re-entering, and they joined them.

“Saw you guys leaving. Thought you changed your mind and went to have fun.” Andre said, which got a glare from Laressa. Chantelle merely ignored him.

“We found out that whoever knows how to get to it apparently doesn’t know he or she knows. He said Magnus Bane knew that person, and if it’s so it has to be someone who survived for centuries.”

Zachary nodded. “Someone immortal, a Downworlder. My bet is it’s a warlock.”

Laressa tugged the whip lower. “So, what did you guys find out?”

“That it’s a Herondale.”

Chantelle did a double-take. “A Herondale? Like the missing Herondales?”

“Perhaps. It’s probably the missing ones. We have to find them.” Andre says.

“Find who?” A voice so close got them grabbing for their weapons automatically. Great, now their cover was blown. Someone stood close by, curious. Others gasped, getting ready for action.

“Nephilim.” They growled, ready for the Shadowhunters’ attack, but the man close by waved them away.

“Please. No need to be so uptight. The Nephilim are our friends.” The man chuckled.

Andre smirked. “Yeah sure. Friends.” It was something Ares would have beaten him to doing if he were here.

The man spun on him. “I can do without the sarcasm. And I thought we were all fine now.”

Chantelle slowly lowered her throwing knife, but her guard was still up, obvious to everyone. “We… we are. Just that Ares—I mean Andre isn’t.” Normally it wasn’t Andre, but Ares who gave the sarcastic commentary that offended others. And then it would be Chantelle’s role to tell them Ares was just that way, but apparently Andre had taken up Ares’ role of being the fierce and mean person. Not that they were of that different character.

Laressa lowered her whip a little, but her other hand was prepared for ‘launch’. “Who are you?”

The man grinned. “I’m Magnus Bane.”

***

“If you wanted to talk to me, you could do that without disrupting my party, thank you very much.” Magnus said, ushering the Shadowhunters in. The Shadowhunters examined the room, not in the battle mode, but just out of curiosity. But Chantelle learnt to never let your guard down, it was one of the lessons Ares taught all of them but she bothered to remember the most.

“We needed… to investigate.” Chantelle said, watching her back, lingering behind. “Some of your Downworld community had information, you see…” She stepped forward, and Magnus gasped as he looked at her for the first time.

“Cecily Herondale?” He asked in disbelief. Chantelle exchanged looks with her companions, unsure of how to react.

“Urm… no? Actually, my name’s Chantelle.”

Magnus’ brows furrowed and he shook the thought away. “You look like your ancestor, someone I knew, Chantelle Herondale.”

“I’m a Carstairs—“

“So what brings you all here today? Last time Shadowhunters crashed my party, a girl needed to get her memories back and their friend turned into a rat…”

Laressa snorted. “A rat?”

Magnus whipped around. “Yes, a rat. You can imagine my expectations whenever Shadowhunters crash my parties, so speak your mind.”

Chantelle nodded. With that, she explained everything, not leaving a single detail out. After that, Magnus Bane simply sat down and swivelled in his chair.

“And you want my help to investigate what is this ‘Death’ and ‘Hell’ you speak of, and get you to be Consul.”

Well, Chantelle did realise how absurd that sounded, but she stood her ground. “Yes.”

“A bit too much to ask, don’t you think? Just in trade that you save the world, but I have to put my trust in you for that.”

Zachary nodded to Chantelle. Time for the hard part, convincing. “I am the future Consul, so yes, I ask you put your trust in me. I am the blessed, the Chosen, by the Angel Raziel. Would you risk the entire world?”

Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is anyone of you a Lightwood?”

Laressa seemed surprised at the question, but she took a step forward. “That will be me.”

“Are you related to Isabelle Lightwood?”

Laressa was caught off guard again. “Yes, I am her granddaughter.”

Magnus sighed. “I promised Alec to take care of Isabelle’s and Jace’s children, I guess this counts as well. Chantelle Herondale, you are related to Jace as well?”

Chantelle tried not to grow irritated. “I am a Carstairs. But my parabatai, the person we are to save, is related to Jace. He moved to Los Angeles.”

“Fine, I’ll help. But only a little, only to find out if this ‘Hell’ and ‘Death’ you speak of is real. I’ll check with some old Downworlders.”

“That easy?” Andre asked. He imagined a tougher conversation, involving fights and torture and possible death, then he realised he was beginning to think like Ares.

Magnus got up. “You want it to be difficult?” He turned toward Chantelle. It was normal for people to regard Chantelle as the leader of the Younghunters. “Where do we begin?”

“Tomorrow, at the Los Angeles Institute.”