I kind of jotted this down. Apologies for the mistakes.

Walking down the streets of New York made me wary. I couldn't help but constantly look backward, over my shoulder, sometimes even doing a full spin before I continued down the crowded sidewalk. I was only a few blocks away, and had walked this path for the last three months since I booked the space to show my pieces. But now? I was unsure.

It was when I reached the alley where I found the woman and that... demon. The alley was wide and bright, the sun overhead, illuminating the entire space.

Carefully, I took a step toward the mouth of it. It didn't look threatening. It was just another alleyway.

But it wasn't. It was what changed my entire life and everything I believed in. Monsters were real.

Mentally shaking off the cold feeling that trickled down my spine, I turned toward the gallery. I could see the front door from there. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as I picked up my pace, aiming straight for those large, glass doors.

I didn't bother pausing as I rushed in, as if I was being chased. Then promptly scared my sponsor half to death.

"Clary!" Ella gasped. "My word, what's wrong?"

Ella's large, brown eyes stared at me from behind her thick, red-framed glasses. Her gray-streaked brown hair was pulled up into a top knot, a few unruly curls poking free.

I huffed out a sigh, glancing back at the doors. No one followed me through. But was there anyone following me to begin with? Or was I just going crazy?

"I'm so sorry, Ella," I said, turning back to her. "It's been a rough couple of days."

"I'd say so," she said.

I touched my neck, assuming that was what she was talking about.

"Oh, this. No, this wasn't my idea. Not by a long shot."

"What wasn't, dear?" she asked, confused. She looked to where my fingers touched, but didn't seem to understand.

"The.. the tattoo," I said.

"I don't see anything," she said, squinting at me. "Is it small?"

"Um..." I trailed. Could she not see it? Maybe it was best that she couldn't. I didn't want to drag her into that messed up world as much as I wanted Dot in it.

"Are you alright?" Ella asked, setting the large painting she was holding onto the ground. It was one of mine. I remembered painting it, in one of my low moments. Something about it... the yellows and oranges and bits of blue splashed here and there. I felt happy, almost bittersweet every time my brush touched the stretched canvas. And at the center of the painting was a black spot with two parts, one side taller than the other, but as one. Like there were... embracing...

A flash of white made me stagger back a step, my hand going to my forehead. Through the bright light I saw more of the colors. No, I saw... flowers? Yellowish orange flowers hanging from the ceiling. No, a trellis? Light streaming through stained glass windows, casting the two people in a halo of light. I began to hear clapping, whistling. Music. Was this a wedding?

My eyes focused, but I closed them when a small pain stung my temples.

What the hell?

"Clary?" Ella asked, panicked. "Please, dear, sit down. Sit down."

Finally looked up from where Ella firmly planted me, I glanced around her to look at my painting. It was of the same abstract look, the same colors. But now, it seemed to mean a little more. The feeling I had at the wedding I don't remember. I was happy. Happy for the two in the center, kissing to seal the promise they made to one another.

But I didn't recognize the two men. But they meant something to me. Like they were family.

"Clary?" Ella asked, touching my shoulder. I snapped out of my daze to look up at her.

"Ella," I said, then sobered when she looked like she was about to cry. Ella was a bit sensitive, and I suddenly hated that I was worrying her. "I'm okay. I promise."

"Sure you sure?" she asked. "I can get you some water or something."

"Actually, I'm just looking for my purse. I left it here a couple nights ago."

"Ah, yes," she said, rising back up to her very intimidating height. She easily hit 6 feet tall. And to add in her thin frame, she looked like she was almost a wisp of a person.

Ella's heels clicked along the hardwood floor to the bar. Reaching around the side, she produced my purse. And an envelope. I thick envelope.

"I have the money from your sales," she said, marching back to me and happily showing me my things. I set my purse down and carefully opened the envelope. There was a stack of 100 dollar bills in it.

I coughed out a short laugh, "How much is in here? What sold?"

"All of them," she said, proudly.

I looked up at her, my mouth hanging open.

"What?"

"They all sold. Every last one. About five went to different people, but the rest were snatched up by an anonymous buyer. Including this one," she said, gesturing to the orange painting I had been staring at.

"How much is here?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to count it all. I was still waiting for Ella to pinch me awake.

"Ten thousand fifty-three. I double checked. And that's after the rent on the space."

"Thank you so much," I said, smiling up at her. I finally had the money I wanted to use to travel. It had been a life-long dream of mine to go to Paris. Now, I could.

"It has been a pleasure working with you, and I hope to, again, in the future," she said. I could feel the sincerity in her voice and see it on her face.

"Me, too," I said, standing.

"Do you need a ride to the bank?" Ella asked, gesturing to my purse as I shoved the envelope into it.

"Oh, uh, no. That's okay. I'm just going to head home right now."

"See you soon," Ella smiled, patting my shoulder with affection before I turned to leave.

Almost in a daze, I walked back toward my apartment building.

I guess I could order take-out from just about anywhere, now. But first, I needed to get this home and safe. I didn't have a bank account, but if this was going to be any indication, I was going to need one. This much cash needed to be hidden until then.

Then maybe it was a good idea to call to book a flight to Paris, asap. I could get as far away as possible from New York and the cult that lived here. Maybe if I was gone for long enough they'd forget about me. I could only hope.

My shoulder jerked back when I walked into someone. I staggered for a moment, then looked up sharply.

"Hey, you wanna watch where you're go-"

I gasped, leaping back. Jace stood before me, his hands suddenly up like he was trying to calm me.

"Wait, wait," he said. "Please, don't run."

I glanced at his shoulder, shocked when he lifted his arm and didn't even flinch.

"But... but I stabbed you," I whispered, my hand going up to touch him where the knife had been. But I stopped, pulling it back to my chest. He should still be in the hospital or whatever they had there.

"Yeah, I was," he said, like he was impressed. "You threw that knife perfectly."

"That's a really disturbing thing to say."

Jace's face dropped a little.

"Sorry. It's just that it took you a couple months to get the form down to at least through a dagger straight. I'm guessing it was some kind of muscle memory."

"Stop talking like that," I snapped. "You're freaking me out."

His brow knitted together and a frown drew across his lips.

"I don't mean to. I've just been really happy to be able to talk with you. It's been a long time since I had."

"And how long is that?"

"A year, two days ago."

I choked back a gasp, my eyes wide.

A year ago was when I found myself in the park, alone, in a dress that was still hanging in my closet to this day. I remembered it perfectly, because it was the first thing I could recall, after the months I had lost.

Months that, as crazy as it sounded, I might finally be remembering.

I couldn't deny it anymore. I was part of this insane world, hiding below the surface of the one I had been living in. Jace was the best chance at filling it all in and answering biggest question I had.

I wanted to know what happened to my mother.

Dot told me it was an accident, and that I had gone to the funeral. But I didn't remember. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't. But I knew, deep in my soul, that she was gone. It was what pulled me into that dark, cold hole in my heart and didn't let go until Dot finally convinced me to paint my pain. Without my art, I would have never come out of the darkness.

"Listen," I said, pointing at his chest. "You are going to fill me in on everything. You got me? I want to know what the hell is going on. And what happened during my forgotten time."

Jace nodded, an uneasy look on his face. "Okay."

"Okay," I echoed, nodding. Jace gestured awkwardly down the sidewalk.

"After you."

I rolled my eyes, but took the lead. I knew bringing him back to my apartment would show him where I lived. But what choice did I have? I needed answers, and I was damn sure going to get them one way or another.