The door swung ajar abruptly, and Harlem opened her mouth to greet the door-opener and apologize for the suddenness of their arrival, but the woman at the door brought her up short. It was the woman from the party, the blonde one, and she was still wearing her party dress... On her face was a look of insane hope and relief, but only for a brief second. The moment the woman took in the sight of the two of them, her face fell. Ouch.<br/><br/>Startled, Harlemâ€™s mouth snapped shut.<br/><br/>The woman looked stunned and frantic, seeming to be on the verge of a panic. Harlem took an uneasy look around. The woman gasped for breath and said rapidly, "I'm sorry you two, I would of called you a cab or something if I'd of known you were coming so quickly, please, please come in and out of the cold.... Isabelle please show them to their rooms, I have no idea where Kye has ran off too, and I must look for Emma."<br/><br/>With that the woman rushed off. What was her name again...?<br/><br/>The siblings slid into the entrance, standing in the lobby awkwardly, bags swamping their ankles. Harlem clutched the scytheâ€™s strap across her chest with a frown. She didnâ€™t notice until her fingers were squeezed that her younger brother had been clutching her hand.<br/><br/>â€œWhatâ€™s wrong with Miss Anabell?â€ Ian whispered.<br/><br/>Harlemâ€™s brow creased and her gaze did not stray from the hallway where Anabellâ€™s retreating form had been last seen. â€œI know about as much as you do, dude.â€ She muttered.<br/><br/>Harlem looked up and found the girl Miss Anabell had apparently told to show them to their rooms. She had long black hair and wore a tiny purple and black lacy dress. Still dressed for the party as well. Harlem recalled Anabell referring to her as Isabelle. She took a step forward. â€œExcuse me,â€ she said to Isabelle, â€œIs there anything I can do to help?â€<br/><br/>She already knew where their rooms were. Excess showing was unnecessary. But if there was a crisis involving another Shadowhunter, Harlem was duty bound to assist.<br/><br/>Ianâ€™s hand remained in hers, and his fingers twitched. Harlem was leaving him out again. Sheâ€™d said<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>, not<span style="font-style: italic">we</span>. The boy frowned, his dark blue eyes cast down at the floor.