The Ironworks, New York, Friday Evening

[seveninchmotto]

Years previously, when Long Island City had been a center of industry instead of a trendy neighborhood full of art galleries and coffee shops, the Ironworks was a textile factory. Now it was an enormous brick shell whose inside had been transformed into a spare but beautiful space. The floor was made up of overlapping squares of brushed steel; slender steel beams arced overhead, wrapped with ropes of tiny white lights. Ornate wrought iron staircases spiraled up to catwalks decorated with hanging plants. A massive cantilevered glass ceiling opened onto a view of the night sky. There was even a terrace outside, built out over the East River, with a spectacular view of the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge, which loomed overhead, stretching from Queens to Manhattan like a spear of tinseled ice.

Luke's pack had outdone themselves making the place look nice. There were artfully placed huge pewter vases holding long-stemmed ivory flowers, and tables covered in white linen arranged in a circle around a raised stage on which a werewolf string quartet provided classical music. It was a party in Luke and Jocelyn's honor. And one Isabelle was having a hard time enjoying. Camille, one of the oldest vampires in the city, had been taken into custody back at the Institute, having confessed to the murders of the dead Shadowhunters of recent days (all of them former members of the Circle). A mundane girl was dead, and it was connected both to Simon as well as the Church of Talto. Simon's new friend/werewolf guardian Kyle had turned out to be Maia's ex-boyfriend Jordan, and there'd been drama, and Isabelle had had to tell the boys to leave Maia alone. And Magnus and Alec had finally come back from Europe last night –– and yes, that was a good thing! But then, just now? Isabelle had had to run to get Magnus after a phone call from her mother, to inform him Camille had escaped, and he was needed at the Institute, due to both being a warlock, as well a former lover of Camille's. Alec hadn't taken very kindly to that, or whatever they'd been discussing when Isabelle had shown up.

So it wasn't feeling like much of a party. She was leaning against a pillar, trying not to brood.

"I can't find Simon."

Isabelle looked up to see Jordan looming over her. He really was most unreasonably tall, she thought. He had to be at least six foot two. She had thought he was very attractive the first time she'd seen him, with his tousled dark hair and greenish eyes, but now that she knew he was Maia's ex, she had moved him firmly into the mental space she reserved for boys who were off-limits. You know, even for idle thoughts.

"Well, I haven't seen him," she said. "I thought you were supposed to be his keeper."

"He told me he was going to be right back. That was forty minutes ago. I figured he was going to the bathroom."

"What kind of guardian are you? Shouldn't you have gone to the bathroom with him?" Isabelle demanded.

Jordan looked horrified. "Dudes," he said, "do not follow other dudes to the bathroom."

Isabelle sighed. "Latent homosexual panic will do you in every time," she said. "Come on. Let's look for him."

They circled the party, moving in and out among the guests. Alec was sulking alone at a table, playing with an empty champagne glass. "No, I haven't seen him," he said in response to their question. "Though admittedly I haven't been looking."

"Well, you can search along with us," said Isabelle. "It'll give you something to do besides look miserable."

Alec shrugged and joined them. They decided to split up and fan out across the party. Alec headed upstairs to search the catwalks and the second level. Jordan went outside to check the terraces and the entryway. Isabelle took the party area. She was just wondering whether glancing under the tables would actually be ridiculous, when Maia came up behind her. "Everything all right?" she inquired. She glanced up toward Alec, and then in the direction Jordan had gone. "I know a searching formation when I see one," she said. "What are you guys looking for? Is there trouble?"

Isabelle filled her in on the Simon situation. It got Maia frowning. "I just talked to him about half an hour ago."

"So did Jordan," isabelle said, shrugging, "but he's gone now. And since people have been trying to kill him lately..."

Maia set her glass down on the table. "I'll help you look."

"You don't have to. I know you're not feeling super-fond of Simon right now --"

"That doesn't mean I don't want to help out if he's in trouble," Maia said, as if Isabelle were being ridiculous. "Wasn't Jordan supposed to be watching him?"

Isabelle threw up her hands. "Yeah, but apparently dudes don't follow other dudes to the bathroom or something. He wasn't making a lot of sense."

"Guys never do," Maia said, and followed her. They glided in and out through the crowd, though Isabelle was already pretty sure they weren't going to find Simon. She had a small cold spot in the middle of her stomach that was growing bigger and colder. By the time they'd all convened back at their original table, she felt as if she'd swallowed a glass of ice water. "He isn't here," she said.

Jordan swore, then stared guiltily at Maia. "Sorry."

"I've heard worse," she said. "So what's the next step? Anyone tried calling him?"

"Straight to voice mail," Jordan said.

"Any idea where he might have gone?" asked Alec.

"Best-case scenario, maybe back to the apartment," said Jordan. "Worst, those people who've been after him finally got him."

"People who what?" Alec looked bewildered; while Isabelle had told Maia Simon's story, she hadn't had a chance to fill her brother in yet.

"I'm going to head back to the apartment and look for him," said Jordan. "If he's there, great. If not, that's still where I should start. They know where he lives; they've been sending us messages there. Maybe there'll be a message." He didn't sound too hopeful.

Isabelle made a split-second decision. "I'll go with you."

"You don't have to ––"

"Yes, I do. I told Simon he should come here tonight; I'm responsible. Besides, I'm having a crap time at this party anyway."

"Yeah," Alec said, looking relieved at the prospect of getting out of there. "Me too.
Maybe we should all go. Should we tell Clary?"

Isabelle shook her head. "It's her mom's party. It wouldn't be fair. Let's see what we can do just the three of us."

"Three of you?" Maia asked, a tone of delicate annoyance shading her voice.

"Do you want to come with us, Maia?" It was Jordan. Isabelle froze; she wasn't sure how Maia would respond to having her ex-boyfriend speak to her directly. The other girl's mouth tightened a little, and for just a moment she looked at Jordan—not as if she hated him, but thoughtfully. "It's Simon," she said finally, as if that decided everything. "I'll go get my coat."

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay! Edited from City of Fallen Angels.]