‘Why?’

‘Because if we’re going to date, you need to understand my references.’

This finally pulls Jace out of his uninterested sprawl. He leans up on his elbows, confusion written all over his face.

‘Since when are we dating?’

‘Well, since we had that Princess Bride level kiss, I thought you might want to?’ Simon says, phrasing it like a question. He’s not so sure anymore.

Jace looks impossible more confused. ‘I have no idea what that means.’

‘We had a kiss, and it was one of the best kisses ever. In the history of the universe. It was in the top ten. You were Buttercup, I was Wesley, and—’

‘Stop,’ Jace says, holding up a hand and shaking his head. Something that is almost a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. ‘No more references that I don’t understand, please.’

‘Since when do you say please?’

Jace’s face falls, and Simon wants to kick himself. Not sure what else to do than continue distracting Jace, he pushes the stack of DVDs into Jace’s hands.

‘Pick one,’ he says.

Finally, Jace sits up. He accepts the stack, and shuffles through them while Simon boots up his laptop.

‘These are all horror movies,’ Jace says, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

‘Well, it is Halloween.’

‘None of these look even remotely accurate.’ Jace holds up the DVDs for the 1958 Dracula, and The Wolf Man. ‘You know werewolves change into actual wolves.’

‘I do. I just thought you might enjoy pointing out every single inaccuracy to me. And you’ve already started.’

Jace huffs, but doesn’t contradict him, so Simon counts it as a win.

‘Well, this just sounds stupid,’ Jace says, holding up the DVD of The Exorcist. ‘Why would a demon possess a child? It’s creepy, but there is no real strategic reason for it. Unless it’s the child of someone powerful in the government or the military. That could definitely cause maximum destru— Hey!’

Simon plucks the DVD out of Jace’s hand. ‘The Exorcist it is.’

Jace shrugs, back to looking uninterested, and settles against the headboard. Simon shuffles closer to him, laptop balanced on his knees, and presses play.

There’s almost a foot between them, but Simon can still feel the heat radiating off Jace’s skin. He can also see the circles underneath his eyes, his uncombed hair, and the two day stubble on his chin. He wants to wrap his arms around Jace, pull him close, let him feel that he’s safe and can relax for the next couple hours, but he’s not sure how much he’s allowed. Jace still hasn’t said if he actually wants to date him. Even if he had, Simon’s never dated another guy. Kissed and groped? Yes. But the couple dates he’s been on have all been with people on the female side of the spectrum.

Jace’s hand is lying on the bed in the space between them, so Simon takes a chance. He puts his hand next to Jace’s, close enough that their pinkies touch. He keeps his eyes glued to the screen as he waits for Jace’s response, half afraid to see Jace’s reaction, half simply wanting to give Jace the room to make up his mind without feeling pressured.

Jace’s pinkie pressing against his own had sent an impossible heat through Simon’s body, and when Jace moves his hand away, Simon feels it keenly.

So the answer is no, Simon thinks. It sucks, but it is what it is. He’s not going to spend years obsessing about maybes and what ifs. Again.

Before he can put his hand in his lap, though, Jace places his hand on top of of it and intertwines their fingers. This time, Simon can’t help but look. He looks down at their hands, then up to Jace, who is looking at the screen with a look of amused disbelief, and a soft smile spreads across Simon’s face.

The movie keeps playing, and more tension drains out of the room every minute. Jace soon starts muttering about how it’s no wonder Mundanes need their protection, because they’re clearly idiots who can’t even get a simple possession right. Simon has never been so entertained.

By the time Regan is projectile vomiting across the room, Jace has migrated so close that his head is on Simon’s shoulder, and Simon’s arm is around his waist.

‘That’s disgusting,’ Jace says, pulling a face.

‘It’s classic,’ Simon retorts.

Jace turns his head, raising his eyebrows in challenge. There’s a small smile on his lips that Simon really wants to kiss. He leans in, can almost feel Jace lips against his, when a sound from his laptop has him pull back.

‘Oh my god,’ he squeaks.

‘Wha— That’s not supposed to happen, is it?’ Jace asks, not sounding nearly as freaked out as he should be.

Regan is suddenly much closer to the camera. Her hands reach toward them, out of the screen, then grab the frame. The plastic protests under her tight grip, but it holds. The ripe smell of rotten eggs mixed with human waste wafts toward them. Regan’s mouth opens wide, spit rattling in her throat, as she breathes heavily and pulls herself up. One of the hands lets go of the frame to reach for the edge of the keyboard.

Jace and Simon’s instincts kick in at the same time, and they shove the laptop away from them, to the foot off the bed. Jace rolls to the ground in a perfectly executed evasive manoeuvre, that Simon would definitely admire, and maybe make fun of a little, if he hadn’t miscalculated his Vampire speed and almost run into the wall.

‘Make it stop!’ Jace orders.

‘How? I’m not exactly experienced in possessed movie characters climbing out of my laptop! Simon yells.

‘Well, turn it off!’

‘Her hand is covering the off button!’

‘Get the disc out! Smash the damn thing!’

‘Half my life is on there!’

‘You won’t have a life if she gets out!’

Simon has to admit Jace has a point there. As fast as he can, he pulls the disc out. Regan keeps climbing out of his laptop. He tries to smash his fist through the screen from the back, but it bounces off as if he hit a forcefield.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT!’ he curses. He looks to Jace. ‘You don’t happen to have one of those cool swords lying around here, do you? Or a stele? The tip of a stele?’

‘Yes. They left a weapon with the person about to be on trial for treason,’ Jace deadpans.

‘Well, you should’ve hidden one!’

Regan screeching from the bed interrupts their argument. Only her legs are left in the screen, now. Her fingers are clawing at the sheets, pulling them apart as she pulls herself further into their world. The stench of her is almost overwhelming. Simon holds his breath. As long as he doesn’t talk, he doesn’t need to breath.

‘Give me that disk,’ Jace says, stalking around to Simon’s side of the bed. He pulls the disk out of Simon’s hand and examines it. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘I bought it at some junksale last week.’

Jace holds the disc up, and Simon sees it: a rune. How did he miss that earlier?

‘What does it do?’

‘It looks like a combination of a portal rune and an animation rune.’ Jace peers closely at it, tracing the lines with his fingers.

‘Animation rune?’

‘It’s used to bring inanimate objects to life. It became forbidden when people started using it to reanimate corpses. It’s no longer taught, but Valentine—,’ Jace cuts himself off. He moves away from Simon, like saying Valentine’s name contaminated him somehow.

‘If you destroy the rune, it stops working right?’ Simon says, placing a hand on Jace’s wrist.

Jace breaks the disc in two. They look expectantly at where Regan is pulling her feet out of the screen, but nothing happens.

‘What do we do now?’ Simon asks.

‘We run.’

‘I’m sorry, did you just suggest we run?’

‘We have no weapons, and no idea what this thing exactly is or can do. We run.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Simon says, grabbing Jace’s hand and pulling him with him towards the door, all the while keeping one eye on the bed. ‘This isn’t what I had planned at all. And now you’re going to get into even more trouble because of me.’

‘Honestly, I think that letting an unknown creature into this world while watching a movie with a Vampire, is at the bottom of a very long list of offenses,’ Jace points out.

‘Maybe, but this one is actually true.’

Jace stops short. He stares at Simon for a moment, then yanks on his hand to pull him against him. The kiss is firm and desperate, and Jace pulls back far too soon.

They stumble out of the room,  and almost fall into a Shadowhunter Simon only vaguely recognizes. The woman looks from Jace to Simon, finally realizes what this looks like and reaches for her stele. Jace is a lot faster. He grabs the stele out of the woman’s hand, slamming his other palm into her chest, knocking her backward. He turns back to the door, quickly closes it and draws a rune next to the lock.

‘Will that hold her?’ Simon asks.

‘I don’t know,’ Jace admits.

‘Jace Morgenstern, you are not allowed out here!’ the Shadowhunter yells, an edge of panic to her voice.

It’s a testament to how focussed Jace is on the threat behind the door that he doesn’t even flinch at the name.

‘If she gets out, I’ll hold her off so you can find a seraph blade,’ Simon says. He’s not looking forward to it. He’s not a very brave person, but he can do this so Jace has a chance.

‘No! You have no training. You could die,’ Jace protests.

‘I’m already dead,’ Simon reminds him.

‘What are you two talking ab—‘ The Shadowhunter doesn’t finish her sentence, interrupted by the door getting pulled out of its frame, and tumbling into Jace’s room.

Regan crawls towards them on all fours. Spit and slime trail down her chin. In the bright lights of the hallway her skin looks looks a sickly pale green. There are patches of undefinable substances on her clothes, that Simon really wants to remain unidentified. The Shadowhunter behind them is retching.

‘Get help!’ Simon yells at her.

She opens her mouth to protest, shifting into a fighting stance, then realizes they’re going to need more than two weaponless Shadowhunters and a Vampire, and takes off.

Simon steps in front of Jace. Regan’s eyes lock onto him, and her lips stretch into a grotesque grin. Her arms and legs tense for the jump. Simon widens his stance to absorb the impact. Regan launches herself at him, shrieking, spit and sweat flying everywhere. Simon wants to meet her halfway, but a strong hand pulls him back.

‘Simon! No!’

Regan bowls into Jace with such force that he stumbles back into Simon. Simon tries to catch and steady him, but impact is too great, and he finds himself falling.

Falling.

Falling.

The fall lasts forever, with Jace in his arms, Regan sitting on Jace’s chest, her mouth open wide and aiming for Jace’s neck. That's mine, Simon thinks. That's my neck to bite. It’s all happening in slow motion, but still Simon knows he won't be fast enough to do anything. He closes his eyes no longer able to watch.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, hoping Jace will hear.

The landing knocks the breath out of him. Everything around him disappears, the sounds, even the horrible smell. Simon waits for everything to rush back in, but it doesn’t.

Is this it? Is he really dead?

He slowly opens his eyes. White. There is a white ceiling above him. Well, at least that means he’s not dead.

‘Simon?’

Jace’s head appears above him, looking amused and a little sleep rumpled.

Simon sits up with a jolt and looks around wildly. He's in Jace’s room. Jace's real room, with the desk strategically placed so it's easy to watch movies from the bed; the plant in the windowsill that's seen better days; the poster of an Indie band so obscure even Simon doesn't know them; a leather jacket carelessly discarded on the desk chair. Next to him, Jace’s bed, where he and Jace had been watching movies earlier until… They must’ve fallen asleep, and with Jace leaning against Simon, gravity eventually took hold and pulled Simon to the floor.

There are no monsters. Jace isn’t a prisoner. He isn’t a Vampire.

It was just a dream.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jace asks.

‘Weird dream,’ Simon says, pulling himself back on the bed next to Jace.

‘Was I in it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Was there a bed?’ Jace grins. He pulls a hand through his hair and winks.

Simon laughs. ‘Yes, but trust me, there was nothing sexy about it.’

‘Any dream I’m in is sexy.’

‘Well, it could’ve been sexy, but then…’ Simon shudders. ‘Just promise me you’ll never let me watch The Exorcist and The Ring back to back, ever again.’

‘That bad, huh?’

Jace is still looking entirely too amused, but when he combs his fingers through Simon’s hair and sets his glasses straight on his nose again, Simon decides to forgive him. He wraps a hand around the back of Jace’s neck, and pulls him closer. Jace climbs into his lap, then shoves lightly against Simon’s shoulder to push him into the mattress. The last remnants of Simon’s dream fade away with the touch of Jace’s lips against his. He digs his fingers into Jace’s back and can’t help his grin when Jace moans in response.

‘You wanna tell me about?’ Jace asks, moving on to Simon’s jaw.

‘What?

‘The dream.’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘I knew I was good.’ Jace presses his smirk against Simon’s neck.

‘You can make me forget pretty much anything,’ Simon responds. ‘Except for the fact that I’m starving.’

‘Chinese?’ Jace asks, pulling back and moving off of Simon.

‘I’m sorry, why is that phrased like a question?’

Jace rolls his eyes, and pulls Simon off the bed. On their way out of the room, he turns off his computer screen, where the menu of The Ring is still playing. Right before the screen blinks out, the girl looks straight at Simon, dark eyes boring into his. A chill runs down his back, and he shakes his head to dispel the image.

Clary looks down to find a girl looking up at her, and almost slips off her perch. Holy shit, the girl is gorgeous. Full lips, painted a bright red, are curled into a curious smile, and the girl’s dark eyes have a matching curious glint. Her face is framed by dark, soft looking curls that fall down her back. Clary takes a deep breath, then climbs down as gracefully as she can.

‘That’s me,’ she says.

Now that she’s on the ground, she can see that the girl is wearing tightfitting jeans and a low-cut purple crop-top, the hint of a tattoo just visible by her collarbone. Clary feels a little underdressed in her torn jeans and loose jacket.

‘Thank god, I thought I’d missed you. I’m Isabelle, Jace’s sister,’ the girl introduces herself, throwing her arms around Clary and giving her quick, tight hug. Her bright and genuine smile quickly makes Clary feel at ease again.

‘Hi. Where are the boys?’

‘Something happened with Jace. He’s fine,’ Isabelle quickly assures her when she sees Clary’s concerned frown. ‘But he and Simon decided to stay home and watch movies instead.’

‘So it’s just you and me?’ Clary asks.

‘Just you and me? Like we needed them to have fun,’ Isabelle scoffs. She offers her arm and Clary links their elbows with a laugh.

Isabelle is right, they don’t need the boys to have fun. Isabelle is funny and sweet, and when she smiles, which is a lot, Clary has a hard time looking away. As they make their way through the fair, they progress from linking elbows to holding hands.

‘They have a haunted house,’ Isabelle says, tugging excitedly on Clary’s arm.

‘You wanna go in?’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll protect you against the boogeymen,’ Isabelle teases, and presses a kiss against Clary’s cheek.

Clary is aware of how dopey her smile must look as Isabelle wipes off the smudge of gloss her kiss left behind, but she doesn’t really care.

‘How could I say no to that?’

The haunted house has two stories. The downstairs is PG-13, with creepy clowns and fake skeletons hanging from the ceiling. Everyone who’s in costume has to remove their mask to keep them apart from the actors. There is a surreal quality to seeing Batmans, Stormtroopers and zombies walk around with their faces uncovered.

The upstairs promises to be like every nightmare you’ve ever had come to life. A girl dressed as a seventeenth century maid is standing guard by the stairs to make sure no young kids can sneak up there. For Clary and Isabelle she steps aside, bobbing her head respectfully.

Halfway up the stairs, something grabs Clary’s ankle. She yelps and runs up the rest of the steps, pulling Isabelle with her. At the top, they lock eyes and burst into giggles.

‘Okay, let’s do this,’ Clary says. She grips Isabelle’s hand tighter and steps into the hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking under their shoes.

An audio track of screams, and rain pounding on windows and a wooden roof, plays through hidden speakers. White lights flash to mimic lightening, blinding them for a couple seconds at irregular intervals. The hallway is painted to look smeared with blood, and all the picture frames on the walls are smashed. In one of the flashes, Clary sees that all the eyes in the pictures have been coloured over with black ink.

Clary glances at Isabelle, who is almost vibrating with eagerness. What a strange girl, she thinks fondly

The first room doesn’t seem to hold anything more than a bed, and a nightstand with an oil lamp on top. They pause by the door, leaning over the rope and into the room as far as they can. Snatches of screams and laughter from the people downstairs float up, draining some of the tension in Clary’s shoulders. It’s all fake. There’s no need to be—

With the next lightning flash a man shoots out from under the bed, dragging himself forward by digging his fingers into the floorboards. His eyes roll around in his head. A low moan gurgles in his throat. On instinct, Clary pushes Isabelle aside and plants herself in the doorway, blocking the man’s path. Another flash, and the man disappears underneath the bed again. It’s then that Clary sees the well-disguised rails in the floor. It was just a dummy.

She turns to Isabelle and gives her a sheepish smile.

‘I thought I was supposed to be the one protecting you?’ Isabelle asks, bumping their shoulders.

‘How about we take turns,’ Clary offers.

The second room has no jump scare. It can’t be called scary at all, really. It’s more sad than anything. There’s a small crib in the far corner from which muted cries can be heard. In the rocking chair next to it, there is the ghostly figure of a woman, looking helplessly at her crying baby, unable to console it. A chill runs down Clary’s back, and she quickly moves further down the hall.

The third and final room is an old nursery. Toys are aligned on shelves all around the room. There’s a comfy chair, a small bookcase, a dollhouse, a chest with stuffed animals and fake swords sticking out of it. In the middle of the room is a low, round table, with four chairs placed around it, and a tea set laid out on top. The four little chairs are occupied by different types of puppets. There’s a clown, a princess, a farmer, and an angel.

‘This looks kind of cute,’ Clary says.

She’s  barely finished her sentence when, as one, all the dolls turn their heads to stare at them with their empty, black eyes.

‘Come play with us,’ the princess puppet at the table squeaks.

‘Never mind,’ Clary says, taking a step back.

‘I’m drawing the line at possessed toys,’ Isabelle states. ‘You’re on your own with these.’

Clary chuckles, but doesn’t move away from the door yet. Instead, she waits until the dolls all turn their heads forward again, back to looking innocent.

She turns away from the room, but Isabelle isn’t next to her anymore. She looks in the direction they came, and sees Isabelle standing in front of the first room, looking right at her, body completely still.

‘Izzy?’ Clary whispers, and takes a step towards her.

Isabelle mirrors her movement, but it looks stiff and awkward.

‘Are you coming?’

Clary jumps and presses a hand against her chest. ‘Oh my god.’

‘Sorry,’ Isabelle apologizes with a grin.

‘Yeah, I bet you are,’ Clary snorts. ‘I thought you were over there.’ She turns back to the front of the hallway, but the Isabelle she’d seen there is gone. ‘Must have been a trick mirror.’

‘Really? There’s nothing now. I must’ve missed it,’ Isabelle says, sounding disappointed. ‘Speaking of mirrors, there is a funhouse across the way. Want to know what I look like with a balloon head?’