A/N: I know, I know, I should be updating any of my other wip but I just had to do it! Other updates this week, a bit sporadic though, so stay tuned. Hope you enjoy this, its been bouncing around my brain…

Enjoy and review!

Chapter 1: Gimme Some Sugar

Prologue

We're in the business of being unseen. I get it, you don't understand, you don't get us, and that's because you weren't raised the way that we were. We were brought up on this, the secrets and the lies, the faking and the pretending. I lost my parents when I was a kid because they were protecting this country. My friend Lewis over there lost his Dad so that you can all sleep soundly in your beds. I nearly lost the people I love most because of this world. But it's our world. And you need us right now. So you call up whoever needs calling up, CIA, FBI, MI6, Interpol. You get Mossad, CIRO, hell, get the State Department on the phone. Because they put us in this position: they're the ones who need us right now. They put us in this position, and they're going to give us whatever we want to get out of it.

2007

Clary hated everything about Family Day at school. Usually it meant that she would have to sit alone at the back of the classroom all day, occupying herself whilst other parents fawned over their kids, time off from their nine-to-five not a problem. When she was five she was sat alone, sticking macaroni shells to cardboard and pretending that her parents were too busy with paperwork at their 'bureaucratic government jobs' when in reality they were ankle deep in counter terrorism off the coast of Greece. When she was six she was old enough to read on her own, flicking through the class copy of Harry Potter whilst her mother was on a secret operation in the middle of Arizona, her father strapped to the bottom of a helicopter over the capital of Kuwait. She got very good at pretending. Used to having no friends, being dropped off, picked up, and looked after by a rotating shift of men in suits and nannies who were under strict orders to keep their mouths shut. But then finally, finally, when she was seven, she got her Family Day.

Instead of coming into her class filled with other snot nosed kids and their doting parents, Jocelyn and Valentine Morgenstern picked their daughter up early in a dark sedan and brought her to the office. Clary had only been to the Institute a handful of times, but she loved it: the high ceiling, ceilings, the unsuspecting exterior that gave way to a building filled with fast paced Agents and the sound of phones and keyboards constantly tapping, languages she didn't know being thrown around left and right. For the first time, though, they weren't heading to the offices her parents spent their time in, the ones with the heady wooden doors and metal plates with their names engraved. They were taking her to a conference room, and for the first time, Clary wasn't alone.

"Clary, come and meet some of Mommy's friends." Jocelyn said lightly, taking her daughter by the hand as Valentine walked beside them. Clary smiled in giddy excitement as her mother led her toward a man and a woman with dark hair, not like her mom's vibrant red, or her father's snowy white. They were kneeling down with three kids, two with the same dark hair, and as they got closer the man stood up to speak to Valentine.

"Hey there!" The woman said, waving to Clary. "You must be Clary—you've gpt hair just like your momma!" She said, and Clary instantly loved her. Her mother was the most perfect person in the world to her, and the fact that they looked alike was her favourite thing. "You wanna meet my clan?" she asked Clary, who nodded eagerly, and Jocelyn stood back up as Maryse Lightwood, one of her closest friends and colleagues, took over entertaining the kids.

"I'm still not sure this was a great idea." She said quietly as she tucked back in her shirt, interrupting her husband and Robert, Maryse's husband. The Valentine nodded curtly, and Robert frowned.

"I know. I know it's dangerous—but I just wanted things to be different. I remember growing up always having to hide things from my friends, never really had any until I graduated to the field office. I don't want that for my kids. And Stephen—"

His words caught in his throat, and Valentine patted his friend on the back. "You've done a good thing, Rob. Stephen and Celine loved you guys, they would have wanted this. I think its good too."

Robert nodded, watching the children with a glint in his eye. "Seven years old and he's an orphan. How does this happen."

"They knew what this job was like. They understood the risk."

"We all do." Jocelyn said sombrely, watching her little girl marvel at Isabelle Lightwood, Maryse's youngest, the pair chatting away happily. She sighed again. "We need to update the protocol. In case something happens to all of us. They need a safety net."

"We can make that happen." Valentine said lowly, trying not to get anyone's attention. "If there's one thing that we're good at it's a good sleeper operation."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes at her husband, slipping her hand into his.

Clary had been oblivious to the entire exchange, too fascinated with Isabelle and the way she talked so fast, so confidently. Alec was Isabelle's brother and he was sat opposite the pair with Jonathon, a boy who hadn't said a word to Clary. He didn't look like his siblings, with their dark hair and eyes, Alec blue and Izzy brown, and he wasn't listening to a word anyone was saying. Just staring.

"I like your hair." Clary said to him as Isabelle stroked at Clary's own, plaiting little braids into her already wild mane. The boy just looked up, his bronze eyes taking in the strange little girl.

"Don't bother, he's not in the mood to talk." The little Isabelle said with command. "Mom says he's—"

"Izzy!" Alec hissed, looking up to try and get his parents. He was two years older, which meant he was in charge, and he knew Jace wouldn't like them talking about him.

"It's okay, sometimes I don't want to talk." Clary said happily. It seemed like it would be alright, the four of them sitting there, Jace not talking but still staring, Isabelle talking her ear off, Alec trying to be a grown up even though he was only nine. Clary loved it. Loved having kids her age who actually want to talk to her. That is, until, Jace suddenly reached out. Clary grinned, thinking he was going in for a hug, which she was happy to oblige. Instead she yelled out as his tiny fists tangled in her hair, tugging at the roots: and that was the first moment she realised Jace Herondale wasn't quite like the other kids.

And it wouldn't be the last.

TWELVE YEARS LATER: 2019

Clary ordered four coffees, as she always did, and two camomile teas, like she always did, and then proceeded to juggles the six drinks as she rushed out of Java Jones back to work: she could already hear Isabelle shouting at her for being so late.

She rushed back through the doors of the Institute, trying not to spill scalding coffee on herself, and by the time she made it back to her floor she was out of breath.

"Need a hand?" Came a voice from behind her, and Clary was lucky that Jace's reflexes were so much better than hers as he swiftly grabbed half the cups, steadying her as he did. "Careful, short stuff."

Clary blew a stray piece of hair from her face and scowled. "Jace, we're late already!" She said, pushing the door open with her hip and leading them into the office. Jace shrugged and followed her to the briefing room, sipping at one of the coffees.

"Eh, Alec is used to it by now." Jace said casually, winking at Aline as they passed her office. Clary huffed again.

"Stop that." She said, ignoring his smirk and pushing into the room. Alec already had the screen up, and Isabelle as sat at the table with Simon, the two of them tapping away at something on his computer. Alec was the only one who ever dressed by Agency standards, a sharp suit making him look way older than twenty-one. He acted way older anyway—he always had.

"Nice of you to show up." He said, still setting up the screen, and Jace chuckled.

"Sorry!" Clary said, placing the coffees on the table and handing off the teas to the Lightwoods. Alec gave her a look, and she stuck her tongue out in return. "You know me, I always get distracted by Hodge whenever he's home!"

Alec just rolled his eyes and sat down, opening up his own tablet and looking at his watch. It's at this point Clary finally took a breath, slumping down in her chair and grinning at her friends, ready for briefing.

A lot had changed since she was a kid.

Clary, along with all the Lightwood kids, Jace included, were now a part of the same agency that their parents had brought them up in. It was like fate always knew they would end up there, following in the shadowy footprints of the Institute, but it hadn't always looked like it would end up this way. It turned out that being kids of geniuses predisposed them to genius tendencies, alongside a serious anarchist streak: Clary and Isabelle had finished high school when they were fifteen, both of them too bored of book learning and too eager to follow their parents on missions in the Alps to pay attention to their teachers. Once you'd defused a bomb under the basement of the Swiss Embassy, Chemistry teachers just didn't have the same authority, and they spent the next two years hopping jets and stealing ID's to get them into parties across Europe, alongside a number of classified meetings at other, unmentionable, embassies. Jace had finished school even earlier: he had a problem with authority that was even worse than the girls, and Robert had taken him under his wing when he was thirteen, letting him take lessons from the Deputy Director, Hodge, instead. It was definitely unorthodox: they all were, but not even military school could keep Jace in check.

Alec was the only one who had strayed away from the Institute: he finished high school at sixteen, went to Princeton for two years, interned at the White House before finally realising that the regular government would never be enough for him. So, he came back.

None of the their parents had been particularly happy about the paths that they had taken: Isabelle and Clary had been sent to one of the best boarding schools in the country, and their determination to leave it had frustrated Jocelyn to no end. They had had argument after argument about it: especially when Isabelle and Clary had been caught by the UK government trying to break into MI6 when they had been abroad under the guise of 'travelling'. Everything had been a mess for a long time.

Simon Lewis, whose parents had begun to work for the Institute when he was twelve, was the only one who did everything the normal way. Finished state high school bottom of his class, mainly to piss off his parents, the entire time running an undercover college scam to help kids from his old neighbourhood get into the Ivy's, his hacking skills something he spent years trying to teach to Clary. By the time Clary was seventeen it looked like she was either going to be a wanderer forever, or end up in some off the grid jail in south of nowhere El Salvador.

Then Operation Looking Glass happened. Simon's father was killed. Maryse and Robert were forced to retire after the injuries they suffered. And all of their kids realised they no longer wanted to wander around aimlessly, using their skills to hack the small time and piss off Interpol. They wanted in.

And so they were in.

The Circle, as coined by Hodge, was a small, elite, taskforce in the agency for particularly talented junior operatives, and it was, in fact, created for this team of misfits: their parents knew that if they didn't allow them to do it on the grid, they would just tear the grid apart. That's how Clary ended up, at the age of nineteen, as one of the youngest intelligence agents in the US. Or so she knew—these things were never really easy to track.

"Where's Kyle?" Clary asked as their case was displayed on the board. Alec adjusted his tie again.

"He's been put on ops this week."

Jace sat up straight in his seat, and even Isabelle let out a cry of indignance. Jordan Kyle was their newest addition, and where they had grown up in this world, he had spent two years in Special Forces. But the thing with the Circe was they weren't allowed on missions. Not yet.

"What do you mean, he's on ops? I thought we had to wait for our evaluation?" Jace said indignantly. Alec shrugged.

"He's got more experience than you, Jace." He said, and Jace slapped his hands against the desk.

"That's bull and you know it," Isabelle said, leaning back in his chair. Simon sipped at his coffee, ignoring the conflict: it wasn't like he ever wanted to be out in the field. He was the man behind the desk. Alec gave his sister a stern look, and Isabelle just shrugged. "What? He might have more field experience—"

"—Which he doesn't," Jace interrupted.

"—but he sure as hell isn't ready to go out alone!"

They had been training together for two years. They were US soil only, spending their time either gathering intel in the office, or working as private security for people who they weren't allowed to ask about. They weren't allowed in the field yet. They had been waiting forever.

"He's not alone." Alec said, rolling his eyes. "He's been training with Verlac since February."

This time Clary was indignant: Verlac wasn't even part of the agency. He was a State Department operative on loan. "You're kidding. Alec, this seriously isn't fair, I mean, we've worked so hard, all we want is a chance—"

"Enough!" They all stopped their moaning at the sound of Alec's raised voice. He rarely raised his voice. "Okay. Thank you. Now, if you would just be quiet for one damn minute, I'd explain that while yes, Kyle is a member of our team, and yes he is currently on an operation with Verlac, we have been issued an operation of our own."

Clary met Isabelle's excited look and grinned.

"Well, you could've led with that." Jace grumbled, picking up the spare coffee and drinking it down. Alec adjusted his tie, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"You all talk so damn much I never get a chance to say anything. Do you want to hear about it, or not?"

2011

"Izzy… I don't want to wear a dress. Why can't I wear what Alec and Jace are wearing?"

Clary sat, moping, on Isabelle's huge four poster bed. They were currently waiting on their parents to collect them so that they could be paraded around a state dinner under the façade of being the children of ambassadors. Isabelle was dressed and ready to go, only eleven but already taller than her brothers, and she knew how to put on a show. Clary would rather go around picking the pockets of the rich and stupid as they got more and more champagne drunk.

"Oh just put on the dress, Clare. This is practice."

"Practice?" Clary said, standing up and taking the smart dress from its hanger. "Practice for what?"

Isabelle turned to her, a wicked look in her eyes, a raise in her eyebrows. "Tonight we're spies."

Clary turned to her dress and grinned, pulling off her pyjamas and pulling on the stupid thing, letting Isabelle toss her a pair of shoes and brush a comb through her hair.

"What's the mission, then?" She asked her friend as her hair was laid flat against her head, smoothed back and unlike her usual unkempt self. They looked up as there was a knock at the door, Isabelle's brother's wandering in in their suits, tiny tuxedos. Jace flopped himself onto the bed, and Alec just looked around the room, appraising.

"What are you girls blabbing about?" Jace said, staring at the ceiling. Isabelle grinned at her friend in the mirror, flipping her own perfect hair out of her eyes.

"Jewellery." She replied, and Jace sat up, a look of disgust on his face, and Alec raised an eyebrow.

"You were not." He said.

"Well, we were about to, before you walked in. This is the mission—"

"Mission?" Jace asked.

"Yes, mission dummy, we're undercover, like Mom and Dad and Uncle Valentine."

"Oh, Iz, you need to quit it with this—" Alec began, but Jace raised a silencing hand.

"No. Go on, Izzy." He said, clearly intrigued. Clary wasn't surprised: he had already been kicked out of three schools. He loved to make trouble.

"Whoever can get the most jewellery by the end of the night wins."

Jace raised an eyebrow, and Clary frowned. "That's stealing, Iz."

"Um, you're forgetting we're about to be in a room filled with politicians." Isabelle said with a huff. "They steal for a living." She said, hand on hip. Alec rolled his eyes.

"You need to stop listening to Dad." Alec said, and Isabelle scowled.

"Oh, come on! In or out?" She asked.

Jace's reply was instantaneous. "In."

Clary frowned, but still nodded. She liked the idea of being like her parents. "Okay."

Isabelle grinned wickedly and looked to her brother. "Just you then, is it, on the side-lines?"

"Fine." Alec said, turning to leave the room. "But I swear to god if I get caught, I am pleading the fifth.

"You get caught, you lose, baby. That's how we play the game." Isabelle said, following her brother.

"That kid is crazy." Jace said, waiting for Clary to pull her shoes on. She grinned up at him, taking his hand and pulling him along with her.

"We all are, Jace. That's what makes it fun."

2019

"Are we going to keep arguing, or are you going to tell us our assignment?" Clary asked, and Simon shot her a look of amusement. She was at the edge of her seat, and he wasn't surprised. She had been waiting a long time to redeem herself for how she had behaved when she was younger.

"Okay." Alec said, finally sitting down and gesturing to Simon to start the presentation. "So, I know Simon still hasn't done his firearm training, so he won't be coming with us." Alec said, and Simon just grinned: he would put off doing that as long as he could. "So we're doing tag teams: Hodge has come back because of a recent spike in assassination attempts on the wife of Spanish Ambassador to the US, Raphael Santiago. Camille Santiago—" A picture of a young, beautiful blonde woman flashed up on screen, "is the daughter of a very wealthy man. We don't know whether this is personal, domestic, or possibly international."

"Oh, this is good," Jace said, sitting forward with an enraptured gaze.

"Our job is to go in, get as much intel as possible, and report back to Hodge. I'm talking a small time frame as well: two days, max, before she leaves the country."

"Have we got phone and computer access yet." Isabelle asked, and Simon shook his head.

"This is mainly why we're being sent in," Alec continued. "They need us to get a couple downloads from Santiago's computer, a few bugs in the house, and access to the phones."

"They're very rich and very private. All their data is encrypted so I need a trojan horse to get in." Simon said, rubbing at his glassed.

"Wait." Clary said after a moment of studying her brief. "I get this is bad, and all, three assassination attempts in three weeks. But why are we involved? Surely FBI, Interpol at max, he's only an Ambassador, she's an Ambassador's wife. Not exactly…"

"Important?" Alec asked with a raised eyebrow, and Clary blushed.

"You know what I mean. The Institute is about protecting the public on a global scale. This seems very business oriented."

"Here's the bite." Alec said. "Camille's ex boyfriend? An M. Fae."

Clary sucked in a breath. "As in… Meliorn?"

Meliorn was the codename for an infamous, international terrorist agent. He was on all the watch lists, wanted basically everywhere, and the constant presence of his signature 'M', and the name 'fae' had brought about his nickname . Meliorn Fae—this was big.

"They're really trusting our first operation to be part of the Meliorn case? What if we screw up?" She said lightly, and Alec scowled.

"We aren't going to mess up, Clary. We've got our cover all set up: we're attending the Santiago Charity Gala at their home tomorrow. We blend in, plant some bugs, add the hardware to Santiago's computer, and get access to Camille's phone. That's it, in out, one night."

"No pressure." Jace said, nose buried in the brief. Isabelle just cocked an eyebrow.

"Our covers are ready, you said?" She asked with a grin.

"Oh no." Clary said. "I know where this is going."

"What's the cover story?"

They all knew all she really cared about were the outfits: Isabelle had perfected the art of disguise, something that had come in very handy in Prague, 2017, when they needed to get into the Black Velvet nightclub.

"Well, it's only us. Which is very awkward, as we're posing as two couples."

Clary let out a laugh: whichever way you span it, the four of them as couples would be very weird. "What are we going for then?" She laughed. "Siblings and lovers? Two gay couples?"

Alec scowled. "Well, darling Clary, you and I will be there as Sara and Alexander Lebedev—

"Very creative." Isabelle interjected.

"—Russian Diplomat and you, my darling wife."

Clary scowled. "Why can't I be the diplomat?" She asked, and Alec shrugged.

"It's Russia, Clare, we have to make it believable."

"Plus the red hair is suspicious enough." Jace grinned, flicking at her hair. She swatted him away.

"Fine, fine. You do have a very Slavic paleness about you. Let me guess, Iz and Jace are going to be some hot-shot socialites, beautiful, rich, suave?" She asked glumly, and Jace smirked at her.

"Well, actually—" Alec said, amusement definitely in his voice. "It turns out two of the caterers have mysteriously fallen ill with the flu—here are your access cards."

He slid across two ID's, 'Premier Catering' written across the top. Jace looked at Alec murderously. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Hodge thought it best to have a couple people on the inside, and it just so happens Jason and Jane are blonde and black haired respectively."

"You're dead for this one. How come Clary gets to dress up nice on our first operation?" Isabelle whined, and Clary laughed.

"I'm not going fancy," She said, picking at her nail beds. She looked up when the room fell silent, meeting Alec's guilty look. "No." She said.

"Its an embassy dinner." Alec said.

"But—"

"Oh, grow up Pippi Longstocking—you have to stop wearing those beat up jeans at some point." Jace said with a laugh, and Clary glared at him.

"Oh whatever, waiter boy, I like my martinis dry." She replied, looking to the ceiling. "I hate dressing up." She muttered much to Isabelle's dissatisfaction.

"This is espionage, baby. Time to get used to being someone you're not."

2011

"Oh you are so precious? Where did you get that little dress?"

Clary stood in the middle of a group of doting women, wearing her best little-girl-innocent smile and twirling when they asked. They were all dripping in diamonds, and so far her pockets were full of diamond earrings she had snatched after asking to touch three women's hairdos, a bunch of necklaces from unneeded hugs, and a variety of bracelets and watches that had been surprisingly easy to nab. Now all she wanted were some rings. She could see Jace entertaining a bunch of giggling girls, the glint of silver in his pocket the only indicator that he was doing any harm. She had no idea where Alec was, but Isabelle was standing by his father, the spitting image of him, and the way she was smiling Clary knew that she must have already pilfered a healthy amount.

She was weaving through the crowd at the end of the night, dress jangling with her hidden goods, heading back to Isabelle's room, confident that she had won. Isabelle was already in there, counting out the necklaces she had laid on her mattress.

"Not bad." Clary said, nodding to her friend before reaching down her top and pulling out handfuls of items, unstacking the rings from her pinky and dropping the earrings from her shoes. "I think I won though." She gloated, standing in a ring of jewels.

"Not so fast," Jace said, busting into the room. "I have so many watches, I can tell the time in every timezone."

"How did you get them!" Clary asked, impressed as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal two arms filled with watches. Jace grinned. "I asked those girls to get them from their dads. Thy were more than happy to help."

"You're a freak." Clary said, rolling her eyes. "Did Alec give up?" She asked, sitting down on the bed and pushing the necklaces away from her. Isabelle shrugged. 'I haven't seen him for ages… he told Mom he needed to lie down."

They were once again interrupted as Alec entered the room, his lanky thirteen year old frame lugging with him a large metal container. Jace's eyes widened, and Clary laughed.

"What the hell is that?" She laughed, and Alec placed in on Isabelle's vanity. With a flourish he flipped the lid from the box, revealing at least three dozen necklaces, loose rings, watches, and lone gems filtering around. Jace's jaw dropped, and Isabelle let out a laugh.

"How did you manage that?" She squealed, getting up from her bed and rushing to look at it. Alec just smiled slyly, turning the box to reveal 'unclaimed items' on the side. Clary grinned.

"That's cheating." She said, kicking off her shoes, and Alec just shrugged.

"Espionage is cheating. Work smarter not harder. And now we can just put everything in here, return it, and no one will ever know what we did."

Jace nodded, peeling the watches from his arm and chucking them in the box. "You are the definition of a dark horse, Alexander." He said, patting his brother on the back. "Remind me not to underestimate you again."

"Tell me about it," Clary said, still impressed. "Watch out Maryse and Robert, here comes the newest Agent Lightwood."

2019

"Okay, pals, lets test comms. Clare?"

Clary let out a silent breath as Simon's voice filtered into her ear. Her comms patch as hidden behind her perfectly styled wig, an unrecognisable mop of blonde hair, and as the limo approached the Santiago residence, she couldn't help but feel slightly out of place. She had done this a million times, but never on the books. Usually, it was her and Izzy trying to steal booze, or briefly shoes, or getting revenge on her ex-boyfriend. Never had her clandestine missions been quite so serious.

"Loud and clear, Lewis," Clary said, looking across to Alec. He nodded.

"All good here, too."

"The kitchen sucks, by the way," Came Jace's voice in their ear, and Clary grinned. "Isabelle is making copies of keys as we speak."

"I am indeed." Isabelle spoke. "And the kitchens might suck, but I definitely look cute in this outfit. No sign of Camille, or Santiago, yet."

"I've got their car about fifteen minutes out—they're coming in from another residence."

"Okay, are we all good on the plan?" Alec asked, and Clary nodded.

"Me and you are on face-to-face. Camille, and her phone." She said. Alec nodded.

"Jace, you clear on your part?" He asked, and there was a momentary pause.

"Sorry." Jace's voice crackled. "One of the managers told me to stop talking on the phone—yes, I'm on the Trojan." They could all hear the innuendo and Clary rolled her eyes.

"Please, either call it a bug, or say Trojan horse. Otherwise this just feels dirty." Simon said shakily, and Clary laughed.

"Agreed." Came Isabelle's voice. "And I'm on bugs. I've already managed the downstairs dining room; I'm going to slip up to the bedroom when the party gets going."

Alec nodded again, a wave of calm washing over him. It was a simple plan, low risk, and for once his team of misfits and anarchists were actually listening to him. Clary looked up as they finally approached the house. Well, mansion. Well, compound. She wasn't sure, but it was definitely huge.

"Okay ladies and gents, looks like we have a soft rota for security tonight. No armed guards, but a shit ton of cheap security. Don't get caught poking your nose where it shouldn't be." Simon said, and Clary could hear him tapping away.

"Out by midnight, okay everyone? Make its short and sweet. We're pulling up to the entrance now."

"Got it."

"Copy."

"Aye, aye, boss." Jace's final sign of came through the comms: and then there was just Sara and Alexander, pulling into the party.

They cleared the entrance to the party easily and before Clary knew it she was being whisked through the ballroom into the dining hall, a live quartet filtering music through the lavishly decorated house. She felt momentarily underdressed, despite the skintight navy gown she was wearing, as the millionaires and billionaires strutted past her in their decadence. Still no sign of Camille, or Santiago. She felt Alec slip an arm through hers. And then they were pretending: Alec, darkly handsome in his simple tux, was the perfect mixture of beautiful and forgettable—exactly what he needed to be. Even Clary had to admit she looked good, and not like herself at all. She looked older, her signature freckles smudged under a veil of makeup, green eyes glinting with a vacancy she made by thinking about trigonometry and that one time she had to rent a minivan. She looked like Sarah. Clary was gone.

For the first hour, no one had eyes on Camille, or Santiago. Isabelle successfully bugged the bedroom, Jace was trying to find a moment to find the office so he could place the programme on the computer. Clary was beginning to get frustrated when finally, finally, they had a break. She had wandered off to the bathroom, hoping to get some sort of rapport with some of Camille's friends, maybe get introduced. Instead, as she exited the bathroom, Alec's voice cam quietly in her ear.

"I'm with Santiago—we're headed to his private lounge to smoke cigars—Clary, find Camille if you can."

"How did you act straight enough to get invited to the cigar lounge?" Jace asked, everyone ignoring him. "I'm heading to the office now, then."

Clary just nodded, keeping her blank look and milling around the party: some men tried to approach her, and Clary just offered them small smiles, immaculate Russian, and wandered off whilst pretending to sip champagne. It looked like her first mission out, and she was window dressing. Great.

That is, until she spotted Camille, the beautiful woman floating through the party, eyes rolling over guests like they were nothing more than ornaments. Clary brushed at her hair, then began to follow the woman as she exited the dining hall. "I have eyes on Camille." She said quietly, hearing the rough crackle of the comms in reply. Camille was busy smiling at random people, passing them by with a wave and a flutter, soft words exchanged between them: she was headed to the kitchens, god knows why, and Clary couldn't help but think that she seemed awfully cavalier for a woman whose life was in danger. She spotted a security guard glancing her way and she flashed a small smile, looking around as though she had somewhere to be. "She's headed to the kitchen—looks like she's going to have her hands full for the minute."

"Good," Came Jace's voice. "Isabelle's currently stuck in the kitchen too, maybe she can get her hands on the phone."

"On it." Isabelle replied.

"Clary, I need your help up here: there's basically no one around, but I think there's a rotating patrol around the office. Can you give me a hand?"

"On my way. What's the situation with the cameras?"

"I've moved the security cams so we have a blind spot, but if anyone is paying attention they'll notice soon and come and check." Simon replied, and Clary nodded, thinking of Alec's words. Short and sweet.

Clary waited for Camille to disappear completely into the kitchen before turning on her heel: it was easy to slip away unnoticed, and she made sure to make the smallest amount of small talk as she made her way upstairs. North corridor, check tail, up the stairs, check for cameras. She was good.

Jace was lingering by a bathroom when she finally made it to the floor where Santiago's office was, looking slightly suspicious, but more so bored. He took a double take when he saw her, and she couldn't help but grin.

"Sara Lebedev, lovely to meet you." She said slyly, and Jace just smirked at her accent.

"Bit Ukrainian, but we can deal with that." He said, gesturing for her to follow him. "I just need someone to keep watch while I get in here, Simon gave me the bug—" he held out a small copper plate, "—so I'll be in and out."

"Okay." Clary said, brushing at her hair as she looked around, making sure no one was following them. There was no one.

Jace stood in front of the door in his uniform, placing the bug between his teeth as he used a small piece of metal to pick at the lock: it wasn't exactly Fort Knox, but a man like Santiago knew how to keep his private life private. There was a crackle of static in the air, and Clary grimaced as it fed back into her comms.

"Ouch," She said, and Jace chuckled, still shimmying the lock.

"Hello—" A broken voice came over the comms, and Clary pressed a finger against hers. "Clary? Jace? Do you copy—Camille is on—"

"What?" Clary said, glancing around again as Jace shook at the door: he hissed in frustration. "Isabelle—"

"She got a call to get a book—" Isabelle's voice cut off again, and Clary squinted her eyes, trying to concentrate.

"Isabelle—"

"There's interference on the comms— Clary and Jace abort, Camille is on her way to the office."

Clary heard the delay just as she heard high heeled feet approaching, she caught Jace's expression, both wide eyed and trying not to panic. They needed an excuse, and they needed one fast.

"Clary and Jace?" Came Simon again, but Clary didn't have time to think. Jace hastily relocked the door: they had no time to run, though, and no time to hide, and Jace still had the stupid bug between his teeth like an arrogant tooth-pick. She could see Camille's shadow, and her instincts kicked in. Launching herself at Jace she slipped a hand up past his mouth, grabbing the bug, before threading it in his hair and crashing her lips to his, pulling her against him against the door. Jace made an indignant noise before she pinched him with her free hand, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss as Camille finally entered the hallway.

"Oh my!"

Let me know what you think!