Hello again :D If you for some reason haven't read the summary, this story is a sequel to Heaven's Hands, which you can check out on my FF profile. Anyway, here's the first chapter of Nigrum Lux! Enjoy :)

Alicante was exactly the way Jasmine remembered it, yet somehow different. Her family had welcomed her with open arms on the first night, talking about how much she'd grown up and what a lovely, well mannered lady she'd become. Her grandmother in particular had both laughed and cried upon seeing her.

Somebody must have explained the situation to her family, because they asked no questions, never named Amir, and they definitely knew about her being Darya's daughter. Perhaps it had been Luke, or even the Consul, who had informed them. All Jasmine had done was send a letter, asking if there was any way she could spend a week in Idris under their supervision. The organisation of the trip had gone so fast that she hadn't even been able to meet Maryse and Robert Lightwood, who would have arrived in New York a couple of hours later.

Jasmine felt slightly uncomfortable throughout the first two nights—uncomfortable and lonely, despite her family's many attempts at conversation with her. Her aunt Gabby (short for Gabriella) was giving her the most space, and Jasmine was grateful for that. Gabby was a quiet one. Not necessarily shy, but more relaxed. It was as if she didn't ever feel the need to speak. Her kids, however, were a different story.

Little Selena was now three years old, with curls and eyes to die for. She didn't talk much either, but she was very cuddly and giggly (when she wasn't kicking and shouting at her older brother). She was loud in her own way. Thirteen-year-old Benjamin, or Ben for short, talked more than was necessary. More than Jasmine's ears could handle.

After dinner, Uncle Masoud and Uncle Arash got out a deck of cards and sat down in the middle of the room, Benjamin cheering for Uncle Masoud and Gabby helping her husband—Arash—play.

Jasmine helped Mehnaz do the dishes, because the woman, while very hospitable and energetic for her age, wasn't the healthiest person. At seventy years old, she had a ton of back- and ankle problems, which made it impossible for her to stand for longer than ten minutes.

"It really isn't a problem," Jasmine laughed as she rolled up her sleeves. She turned on the water and listened to her grandmother complain. It had become a nightly routine now.

"But you are a guest," she said, sounding almost sad. "You shouldn't have to wash dishes."

"Mamani," said Jasmine, smiling down at her. "It's fine. I'm happy to help. It makes me feel at home."

Mehnaz only sighed and sat down on the chair in the corner of the kitchen. "Thank you for calling me Mamani," she said after a moment of silence. She put her wrinkly hand over her heart. "I appreciate that you feel like you are part of this family."

"The other kids call you that," said Jasmine with a shrug.

"Yes, but you are different. We have only seen you one other time, and that was years ago."

Jasmine nodded. "You have a point." When she was finished washing the dishes, her grandmother motioned for her to follow her. She led Jasmine up the stairs, and down the hall to a door made of hardwood. Mehnaz's hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment before turning it. Behind the door was a room just big enough to fit a single bed, a beautiful antique vanity, and a tall wardrobe. A Perian rug was spread out over the floor, its colors resembling the fallen leaves of a tree in autumn.

Photographs hung on the wall, most of them in black and white, but some were in color as well. The pictures were of the family, mostly. Of Darya, Arash, Masoud, Amir and her grandparents. But some were of Darya's friends—two of which being Jocelyn and Luke. This had been Darya's room, no doubt.

Mehnaz opened the doors of Darya's wardrobe and reached behind the clothes. She got out a reasonably large box made of ruby red marble, decorated with golden patterns. It looked pretty heavy, so Jasmine was quick to take it out of her grandmother's grasp.

She put the box down on the bed and watched Mehnaz take off the lid. Jasmine sat down on the other side of the box, careful not to mess up the bedspread. She looked inside the box curiously, and saw a multitude of objects. The most eye-catching ones being a pair of beautiful swords. They were twin swords the length of her forearms, engraved with letters she wasn't able to read, because Mehnaz had already closed the box.

Jasmine felt her grandmother take her hand, and put something in it. It was a ring.

"Go on," said the older woman, sadness evident in her voice. "See if it fits."

Jasmine spread her fingers and slipped the ring on her finger. The metal was cold, and the pattern familiar. It was a Sianoor ring. The 'S' in the center of the ring was framed by two simple wings; angel wings, representing, oddly enough, death. Sianoor meant poison, after all.

Mehnaz stroked Jasmine's hair, tears filling her dark brown eyes. "It's almost like having her back," she sniffled. Jasmine stood up and hugged her grandmother, because she had no desire to see an old lady cry. "You can sleep in her room," said Mehnaz before pulling away. "You can sleep in Darya's room from now on."

Jasmine raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Mehnaz nodded. "Yes. I'll go get your bags."

Jasmine stopped her. "I'll go," she said, before thanking her again. As she walked down the hall to the guest room she'd slept in for the past few nights, she reached into her pocket and got out her phone—her brand new, heartbreakingly cheap phone. She'd been forced to get a new one after Valentine had taken and lost the one she'd had for over three years. She had six contacts in her phone now: Isabelle, Alec, Simon, Luke, Clary, and of course, Jace.

Jasmine had been trying to get a hold of them all since arriving in Alicante, but she hadn't been able to talk to a single one of them. This was very stressful, considering that she had no idea how long she would be in Idris for. It could be another week, or it could be a month. She hated the thought of not talking to Jace, or any of them really, for a whole month.

"Texting someone?" asked Gabby, carrying a sleepy Selena in her arms.

"There's no signal," said Jasmine gloomily.

"Oh, here," said Gabby, and reached into her pocket. "Take mine. I had a warlock perform some magic on it. That way I can still talk to my family in Romania without having to waste paper and ink."

Jasmine took the phone eagerly. "Thankyou. By the Angel, you're a lifesaver," she said.

Gabby smiled. "I'm going to put Selena to sleep. See you downstairs?"

Jasmine nodded, and gently stroked Selena's chubby arm, bidding the baby good-night. Selena lifted her curly head and took her pacifier out of her mouth. She opened her arms for Jasmine, and pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to her cheek. Jasmine heard Gabby laugh, and couldn't help but grin herself. She'd never met a toddler that adorable—or any toddler, really.

As Gabby carried her daughter down the hall and into one of the guest rooms, Jasmine wondered how often she and Uncle Arash stayed over at Mehnaz's house. Uncle Masoud never stuck around for long, but that was mostly because his house was only a block away.

Jasmine flipped the top of Gabriella's phone and dialed the first number that came to her mind. Unfortunately, though, it went right to voicemail. She dialed again, but this time, she tried somebody else's phone.

"Hello?"

"Izzy, hey," she said. "It's me, Jasmine."

"JASMINE WHAT THE HELL I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOUR PHONE WORKED EVERYWHERE—"

"My oldphone! The one I lost… Why are you so mad?" Jasmine bit her lip, looking back at Lisa. She mouthed to her that she'd be back soon, and walked out. "You sound like you've been crying…"

"It's Jace," said Isabelle almost immediately.

"What? What about Jace? Is he okay?"

"No! I don't know… He caused a lot of trouble with the Inquisitor and—"

"THE INQUISITOR?" shrieked Jasmine. She must have woken Selena up, because she heard the three-year-old sobbing a moment later. Jasmine clutched her forehead. "What was the Inquisitor doing there?"

"I don't know, inquisiting? Anyway, the point is," she took a breath, "he's in jail now."

Jasmine's world seemed to spin. "He… he's where?"

"He's in the Silent City for interrogation. They're going to use the Mortal Sword on him," Isabelle said in a strained voice.

"Why?"

"Because the Inquisitor is an old, bitter hag and Jace can never keep his mouth shut!"

Jasmine threw her head back. "That sounds like him," she said. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"I hope so," sighed Isabelle, before switching moods completely. "So anyway, how are you doing?"

In the corner of her eye, Jasmine saw her uncle Arash mounting the stairs, looking very pale. "Awful, now that you've told me this. Hold on, Iz. I think my uncle wants to tell me something." She lowered the phone, and looked at Arash expectantly.

"We have a visitor," was all he said.

Jasmine frowned. "Who is it?"

"It's the Inquisitor."

She could only laugh. There was nothing funny about her situation. Nothing at all. And yet she was laughing. Maybe it was the irony of it all. Maybe it was to relieve tension. Maybe it was because she had no freaking clue how she was supposed to react.

"Jaz?" It was Isabelle.

Jasmine swallowed and answered the Lightwood girl. "Isabelle, I think I'm in big trouble," she said. "The Inquisitor is here."

"She must have Portaled there," said Isabelle, sounding tired.

"Yeah, I guess." Jasmine closed her eyes to calm herself. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, Jaz. And remember, don't mouth off to her. Jace did that and we both know where he is now."

"Don't worry," said Jasmine. "I won't."

o000o

"You threw him in jail!"

"It's not jail—it's the Silent City," snapped Imogen Herondale. "And if you keep using that tone with me, young Sianoor, I will send you down there with him."

Jasmine ground her teeth. "He's done nothing wrong," she said. "I was right there when he declined Valentine's offer to go with him. All he's ever wanted was to do the right thing—

"I'm not sure," said the Inquisitor, "what your word is worth, considering you are Amir Sianoor's daughter, and romantically involved with Jonathan. Word gets around, Jasmine."

"I'm not Amir's daughter," said Jasmine, shaking her head.

"You were raised by him, were you not? You were with the man for over sixteen years. That's almost twice as long as Jonathan spent with Valentine."

Jasmine heard her grandmother sniffling on the other side of the room. Most of her family was gone—they had left when the Inquisitor told them to—spare for Uncle Arash and her grandmother, who were looking on anxiously.

"So what you're saying is I could be dangerous to the Clave? That I'm in on their plan?" Jasmine stared incredulously.

"That," said the Inquisitor firmly, "is exactly what I'm saying."

"I tried to kill him. I tried to kill Valentine."

"I was not born yesterday, Jasmine," said the Inquisitor.

"Clearly," muttered Jasmine.

Imogen narrowed her eyes at her. "You are not endearing yourself to me at the moment, girl. You might want to start trying harder."

"I do not need to endear myself to you."

"If you want to sleep in this house tonight, you do."

Jasmine's breathing hitched angrily. "You can't throw me in the Silent City like you did Jace," she said.

"I most certainly can," said the older woman. "And I will."

Arash walked over, and placed a hand on Jasmine's shoulder. "She is sixteen years old," he said. "You can't punish her for a crime she did not commit."

"How are you so sure that she is innocent?"

"Look at her—she's a child," he said.

"A child who might know more than what she's telling us." She turned to Jasmine. "Jasmine Sianoor, you are now officially under investigation." The Inquisitor, now smiling, took Jasmine by the elbow, hard. "I would suggest you to cooperate with me. Your trial is tomorrow morning—as is your boyfriend's."

Well that was short, but oh well. I'm happy to be continuing this story, and grateful for anyone who has followed it up to this point. It means a lot to me that so many of you would take the time to read this ^_^

Thank you, and as always, reviews are appreciated!