As requested, here is an update! Please excuse any mistakes, I was so excited to post I only did a quick edit (what's new, really?) Please enjoy, my loyal lovelies!

Dancing With Demons

Chapter 31: Entropy

Song: Dance with the Devil - Breaking Benjamin

The one certainty in life is its inexplicable ability to devolve into chaos.

It had been weeks since I'd ended Michael Wayland's life.

And the Hunter is restless.

She'd clawed her way up from the prison I'd shut her in, tearing through my insides until she's burning just beneath the surface of my skin.

I'd never fooled myself into believing I was a completely innocent victim. It was engrained in my bones to enjoy the hunt—the kill. My DNA is coated with the darkness of the Demons. The same evil driving Valentine pulses through my veins.

Put me in the field, I'd begged Jace not even an hour again, hiding my twitching fingers by clenching them into a fist. It's an addiction, the thrill of the chase and capture, the excitement of being a lion in the game of cat and mouse.

But he'd merely grunted, pushing the rug back into place over the stain Michael's existence had left behind.

He'd flinched when I yelled at him, told him that he'd seen firsthand that I wasn't weak. My blood hasn't boiled like that in years. Hiding the Hunter had numbed the vicious side of me. Awakening her flooded me with hatred.

He'd sighed and closed his files, folding his hands before him. Clary…he'd barely started, and my tongue moved before my mind. I've killed more men than you could ever dream of. I could be your worst nightmare. I managed to swallow the next sentence, eyes widening in fear—fear of myself. The Hunter challenged me to continue, to remind him that I'd killed the leader of the Shadowhunters once and could easily do it again.

Jace's mouth was parted slightly, brows furrowed in concern. Before either of us could even breathe, I ran. I ran from the room, from the building, from the Demon unfurling her wings inside of me, begging for release and gaining ground.

Jace followed me, but I easily lost him, weaving through the streets until I could no longer hear him calling me name. I watched from a fire escape as he scrubbed a hand down his face. He looked exhausted.

He's been working through the night, pouring over every inch of evidence secured from Wayland's apartment, trying in vain to discover a connection that isn't there. Wayland's betrayal has unsettled him, convinced him the infrastructure of the Shadowhunters is crumbling.

And Jace always feels the need to brace it with his own shoulders.

Thankfully, Alec and Simon had been able to cover up Michael's death, leaving the rest of the gang in the dark. They have no reason to doubt their unshakable leader—no idea how afraid he really is.

Not to mention nobody's heard from Valentine in months. Not even Jonathan, Jace had informed me this morning, ending a call and discarding his cellphone in a nearby dumpster.

Even I, having had years of experience analyzing the borderline insanity of my father's plans, cannot make sense of his recent actions.

All I know is that chaos is coming, and there's nothing we can do to stop it.

I finger the thin paper of the note folded in my pocket, feet pulsing in my high heels as melt into the pedestrian traffic walking down the busy street. The sinking sun is disappearing below the horizon, but the world continues to thrive in its absence.

A man barks a few orders into his phone as he rushes by me, not bothering to apologize when his shoulder rubs against mine. A woman honks her horn as a teenager steps into the street, too distracted by the allure of social media.

It's all so mundane, overhearing the problems people are having with their bosses, their wives, their children. I've never imagined a life where my biggest problem is being ignored for a promotion, never thought what it might be like to worry only about the wrath of my mother after breaking curfew.

Instead, my days are spent controlling my resurrected bloodlust while my nights are haunted by the demons of my past, literally.

Again, my hand brushes against the letter, hidden in my coat. Even in his absence, Valentine is still finding ways to invade my life. His most recent act had been waiting for me with my coffee this morning, my favorite barista cheerfully informing me that someone had purchased my macchiato.

I'd expected a love letter from Jace, maybe even a message from Isabelle. Instead, it was undoubtedly penned by the hand of my father. It was long and rambling, a true testament to his current mental state. It was a lot of words to simply tell me that if I refuse to comply with his demands, he will kill Jace. It didn't list the demands or give me a way to contact him, so I've been forced to continue about my day, pretending that I'm not carrying physical evidence of my treason in my pocket.

The woman beside me laments that her husband isn't the lover he used to be.

And a child cries because he can't have a piece of candy.

It's hard not to feel resentment toward these creatures, so oblivious to the true evil that roams just beside them.

I steady my breathing, forcing the Hunter back down just a little further. I am not my father. I kill only when necessary, not because I am slightly annoyed.

I walk until blisters begin to form on my feet, until the moon is centerstage in the sky. I wait, pooled in the light of a streetlamp, pretending to ignore the figures lurking in the shadows.

Everything about me invites them in, the perfect bait disguised as the perfect prey. My Demon is stronger during the night, and as a group of men begin to approach me, I make a split decision to let her come out and play.

There's nothing inherently intimidating about these men, ignoring the fact that they just appeared from the darkest corner on the street, dressed in all black, exchanging quick, hushed words as they approach.

The man with the short, dark hair is clearly their leader, walking two feet in front of the others, grinning pleasantly like we know each other.

The Hunter smiles in return, albeit a bit sheepishly, like she's desperate, grateful for their presence. "Please, my phone's dead—" A voice that sounds like mine, rumbles in my chest like mine, says.

But it's not my voice. It's hers, edged with a bit of anticipation. Anyone with ears should have been able to tell there was too much excitement in her words, too little fear.

"Don't worry, sweet thang," the front man croons. The two men behind him—both blond, unremarkable, though one has a severely crooked nose—both nod in agreement at something the other turns to them and says. As if he hadn't just had an entire conversation with his group, he turns his attention back to us. "Here, use mine."

He reaches into his pocket, and—unsurprisingly—produces a knife instead of the promised cell phone. The Hunter is a good actress, though. Her hand flies to her throat, and she steps backward into a brick wall.

The man and his two goons begin to smile. My chest heaves. The Hunter is calm. "Nobody has to get hurt here," he tells us, knife poised to strike, other hand raised in surrender. My Demon wants to roll her eyes, but she's better trained than that. She lets them grab her arm, dragging us into the nearby alleyway. "D-do you want money?" she stammers. The men laugh. The Hunter hates when they laugh.

Shrouded in the darkness, the man begins to tell her exactly what he wants to do with us.

It sounds painful…and a little complicated. My Demon grins, earning an uncharacteristic squeak from our attacker. "Yeah, not interested," she tells him, oozing confidence as he reaches out to grab our throat.

And the dance begins. I'm forced to bare witness as my Demon takes over completely, ducking out of the circle of his hands just before he can squeeze. She grabs the wrist that holds the knife, twisting until his grip loosens and the blade falls into her waiting fingers. Before his idiot friends had fully comprehended the unexpected turn of events, the knife slides in and out of his jugular with a spray of blood, all his threats turning to gurgles as he collapses to the ground.

She spins toward the next contender, crooked-nose man, who has decided it's in his best interest to grab his knife and attempt to fight. A quick hit to his forearm sends his weapon flying backward. She sticks the knife into his left temple, leaving it there as he crumples to the ground. She picks up his discarded knife and flings it through the darkness. The other blond crumples to the ground without making a sound.

It all happened so quickly, so gracefully. My Demon sings, looking at the mess she'd just made. She forces me to reflect on when we were one unit, when my entire being enjoyed this just as much as she did, when I didn't try so hard to isolate and contain the evil inside myself. Next time, there won't be any stopping me when I want to play. I think of Jace and the way she'd wanted to snap his neck when he blew me off.

Blood pools around me as I collapse to the ground, watching it fill every crack in the alleyway. My Demon—sated—returns to her slumber for now, leaving me to deal with the aftermath. My hand covers my mouth as I see these men—notably not good men. What happens when I can't hold her back from the ones I actually care about? Blood roars in my ears as I finally realize my place in Valentine's master plan. I begin to shake.

I'm the linchpin.

The knife clatters to the ground as familiar arms lift me up, engulfing me in the scent of home. Jace's hand smooths my blood-streaked hair as I stare blankly over his shoulder. Alec and Isabelle pause at the edge of my madness, surveying the bodies I'd dropped.

"Shhhh," Jace murmurs, but it doesn't slow my racing heart.

Chaos isn't coming.

Chaos is already here.

And its name is Clary.

Oh shit.

All My Love,

BallinBlonde21