Okay, so this is my first fic ever so I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen from here in.

Chapter 1

Sweat was glistening down her back as she swung around to nail her target through the heart, her dagger flew straight towards the center ring of the dummy. Clarissa stood tall and eyed her target, the dagger was a little to the left but the heart nonetheless. Daggers were always her strong suit, no matter the size they always hit their targets, even if a little to the side. She sighed inwardly, training never held much appeal for her any more, it was all that seemed to fill her days. Seraph blades, study, daggers, study, crossbow/bow and arrow, study, family dinner, sleep. Days repeating themselves over and over, if only she had began training when she was supposed to, not 6 months ago when she was forced from the blissful ignorance of the mundane world into the harsh reality that was the Shadow world.

Today, she had decided, was going to be a day for weapons only. Frustration had been bubbling in the pit of her stomach for weeks and what better way to unleash it that firing scores of bolts into a firing range. Clarissa made her way to the ranged stand and took up her crossbow. It was a hardened maple and admas bow inlaid with electrum to give any one whom she fired on a little surprise. The bow was a gift for her 17th birthday last month from Maryse and Robert Lightwood, the owners of the New York Institute, her new home. She almost laughed as she reached for the fine piece of craftsmanship, the bow its self was nothing to laugh at, it had a fierce brilliance about it and in Clarissa's hands it was deadly. The laughing point was that the Lightwoods had given her a weapon that she probably wouldn't ever need or get to use. Their children Alec and Isabelle, as well as their adopted son Jace never thought to take her hunting and if she was perfectly honest, Clarissa didn't want to ask. Shadow skills came naturally to her but they weren't something she wished to relish in. She had nothing against spending every other evening slaughtering the demons that plagued her home; it was the thought of spending those evenings in the company of people who despised her.

When Clarissa came upon the scene trouble had followed her, something she felt tremendous guilt over. With her introduction to the Shadow world came the knowledge of what she really was, knowledge new to everyone including Clarissa. She was an experiment, one her father had created during his craze for the purification of Shadowhunter lines. Clarissa was one of two experiments, the other being her twin brother, Sebastian. Her father, Valentine Morgenstern tested the hands of fate and fed her mother, Jocelyn Fairchild (Then obviously Morgenstern.) a mixture of angel and demon blood. Valentine had rested the Mortal Cup, the Holy Grail of the Shadowhunter race, from the hands of the Clave and combined the golden blood of the angels with the obsidian blood of the demons. Valentine chose his victims with great care, only the greatest angel and demon would do for his child. He had been trying to create a hybrid of Fey and Shadowhunter from his own child. He forced the swirling liquid down his wife's throat day after day to ensure his child would be neither Shadowhunter nor Fey but stronger than both. His one mistake was relying on the premise Jocelyn's was a singular pregnancy.

When delivery day for his monstrosity arrived Valentine received a more than unpleasant surprise. His concoction had materialized itself in a way Valentine had not even considered. Jocelyn gave birth to twins, one male, and one female. The boy had the ice coloured hair of his father and the girl had the fiery hair of her mother. The girls eyes were a shade of emerald green that glistened like the jewel of dragonfly wings but the boys, the boys were the colour of the demonic blood Valentine had forced his wife to consume. His experiment backfired viciously. Rather than one child of immense power and cunning that fought for the angels with all the power and ferocity of the demons, he received his worst nightmares, a child with the beauty of the angels and the gift of words not spoken and the gift of the angel himself, and a child whose abilities rivalled those of his sister but lacked the humanity she possessed. Valentine, distraught with what he had done, killed Sebastian in his crib, but couldn't bring himself to tarnish the angelic purity of his daughter. It was rumoured that he used an Aegis and carved out his son's soulless black eyes, then fled and hid in his shame at what he had done. With Valentine's disappearance also came the disappearance of the Mortal Cup and with the disappearance of the Mortal Cup the Shadowhunter race began to dwindle.

Valentine was unheard of for over a decade and a half after the death of his son but as always, the slimy serpent returned from his secrecy, thus bringing us to the events of 6 months ago, the very events that wrenched Clarissa into the Shadow World. Valentine was consumed by his madness and in it he searched high and low for his former wife and the Cup he had learned was in her possession. Chaos ensued and a war that took countless lives followed. Jocelyn Fairchild fought her husband mercilessly knowing the monster he made out of her son and his chosen method of dealing with it. She fought until the fighting consumed her but not before taking Valentine with her. Like Clarissa, Jocelyn had a way with the language of the angels and had created a Kamikaze rune, a rune that would quite literally burn her up (Been watching supernatural sorry) in the event of her untimely demise, taking her killer with her. During the War for the Cup many lives were caught in the crossfire, one in particular being Maximus Jonathon Lightwood, the youngest brother of the Lightwood Clan.

The Lightwood's, Clarissa felt, still held her responsible, hell, Clarissa held herself responsible. She glanced down at the crossbow in her hands and grabbed a few dozen bolts, moving towards the target range she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She tried to clear her mind of the guilt and annoyance that plagued her everyday. Guilt over everything her father had caused and annoyance that she felt still felt immensely guilty over events that were far beyond her control. She programmed the range (Thinking hunger games ish) to suit her mood and fired bolt after bolt until the targets looked like human pincushions. As if in perfect time the simulation ended as Clarissa's bolts did and as always in her monotonous routine, She collected and cleaned all her equipment. The sweat clouding her body like a salt-ridden glow had managed to soak its way through her training sports bra and started outlining its self along her singlet. Deciding this signified enough for today she made her way to the adjoining bathroom, the co-ed adjoining bathroom. Clary stripped off her soaked singlet as she walked through the doors and used it to wipe the sweat from her face as she headed for the sinks. Splashing cold water on her face, Clarissa looked up only to be met by her reflection. Limp, sodden hair, like a doused flame, hung from her scalp and eyes that shone like green flashlights sat in the middle of her face. They were ringed by dark shadows that only reminded her of the nightmares that plagued her sleep and the image of Max that shot up every time she shut her eyes. Clarissa ran for the shower and tore off her remaining clothing. She set the water for as hot as it could go in an attempt to burn the pain away, to burn the guilt for being the reason innocent little Max had died. She wasn't sure how long she remained under the burning torrent of water but somewhere along she had sunk to the floor and been overtaken by the uncontrolled sobs she reserved for when she had the institute to herself. Clarissa was so lost in her own world she didn't hear the bathroom doors open or the two people that came through them.
"Come on Jace, I think she's ready. She needs to get out of this depressing place it just reminds her of her family." Isabelle said, touching up her makeup in the mirror.
"Iz, we know she's ready, she doesn't want to come out with us. She thinks we all hate her, you and Alec especially." Jace looked at his sister sternly.

"Jace, that's because we did. We blamed her for Max and took it out on her. It's taken a while for us to come to our senses but Alec and I know Max had nothing to do with Clarissa, she hasn't done anything wrong." Isabelle was determined. The little redhead was going out tonight regardless of everyone else's opinion.

Alec heard the bickering and made his way into the bathroom as well. The three as oblivious to Clarissa as she was to them.

"Actually, I think you two will find you are both wrong. Yes, Clarissa thinks we hate her but that isn't the problem here. The problem is that she hates herself and the way we all treat her doesn't help." Alec's voice was a shock to the other Lightwoods and left them silent, until another sound broke through, the sound of someone choking back extreme emotional pain.

"Is that what I think it is?" Alec asked, turning to his siblings.

"I think so, you two need to get out right now." Isabelle spoke quietly but her tone was firm.

"Iz I don't-" Jace began but was cut off by a look that could cut diamonds.

"C'mon Jace, lets leave the women to it." Alec pulled Jace from the bathroom.

Isabelle waited for them to leave before grabbing a towel and tucking her stele in her boot. She could feel the heat in the room leading her to only imagine the heat of the water on Clarissa's skin. She walked directly into the shower stall occupying Clarissa and shut the water off. She moved her eyes down to Clarissa's puffed emerald eyes and placed the towel around her. Noticing the blistered sheen to Clarissa's skin Isabelle knew her water hunch had been right. Removing her stele, Isabelle carved a swirling matrix into the skin over the girl's heart. Clarissa averted her eyes while Isabelle fussed over her. She hung her head in shame for forgetting she wasn't alone, the last thing she wanted was these people feeling sorry for her.

"C'mon kiddo." Isabelle pulled Clarissa to her feet, readjusted the towel and took her to her bedroom.

Once in the comfort of the pink and black glittered swirls that covered Isabelle's bedroom she sat Clarissa down on her bed. Reaching for her make up bag, Isabelle pulled out a small tub of cream. Moving back over to the bed she opened and dabbed her finger into the cream lightly. Gently, Isabelle massaged the cream into the tender skin surrounding Clarissa's eyes and then onto the rigid lines that caked her forearms.

"Talk to me Clary, what's going on with you?" Isabelle asked softly and continued to apply the miracle balm.

"It's nothing, don't worry about me I'm okay." Clarissa closed her eyes and tried to focus on the cream that was numbing the burn that accompanied her skin.

"Don't lie to me. I know you are not okay, and these," She said, gesturing towards Clarissa's forearm. "Are even less convincing than you. I know something is bothering you Clary, believe it or not I have been lower than you feel right now."

"I doubt that Isabelle, but I'll be fine. I just need to sleep." Clarissa moved to get up but found strong hands stopping her.
"No offense Clary but that's shit and you know it. I hear you screaming at night, your room is two doors away. I hear you crying out for your mum, I hear you crying out for Max, I have even heard you cry for the brother you were supposed to have. Don't play dumb Clary, I know you're suffering worse than I am." Her tone was harsher than usual but all the words Isabelle spoke were true. Clary was suffering more than she was, as much as she loved Max, her dreams of him were becoming less and less frequent. Clary's were every single night and usually more than one.

"I don't know what you want me to say Iz, I just don't know anymore." Clary hung her head and clutched the towel hanging around her chest.

"Just talk to me Clary, tell me what's going on with you." Isabelle placed the balm on the bedside table and rested her arm over Clary's shoulders.

"It's my fault, all of it Iz. If it weren't for me none of it would have happened. My mum would be okay, all those people, hundreds of them, wouldn't be dead, Max would still be alive. It's my fault Iz, its all my fault. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!" Tears began to fall from her eyes again and with her head resting on Isabelle's shoulder, they fell onto her jacket. Suddenly, Isabelle jerked up and walked to the other side of the room. Facing the wall, away from Clary, she raised her hands to her face and coughed a few times. When she turned back her eyes were glassy and her hands shaking. Isabelle walked forward and knelt before Clary.
"Listen to me, very clearly Clarissa Adele Fairchild. It is not your fault. None of this is your fault. We can't choose our parents and you got the short straw. Your father was a whack job. He did things to you when you were a kid. He killed your brother. He started a war that killed my brother. He killed your mother. Clary, none of this is your fault, no one blames you for being his daughter, and it's not something you can help. We don't blame you Clary, we blame Valentine." Isabelle grabbed the Clary's free hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "The guys and I were going to see if you wanted to come hunting with us tonight but I think a slumber party is in order. No ifs, buts or maybes. You, me, popcorn and the magic of Mean Girls. I'll kick them out for the night, I'm sure Magnus is in the mood for a guys night."

"I'd like that. Thank you Izzy." Clary said between hiccups.

Kicking the boys out proved easier done than said and the girls lounged around the expansive sitting room, enjoying the spoils of surround sound and flat screen televisions.
"You know Clary, we are going to pandemonium tomorrow night, to make up for tonight. Want to join us?" Isabelle asked gently.

"Actually, that sounds great." Clary responded, surprising herself.
"Fantastic! Come to my room tomorrow at 7. I'll take care of everything! Do not be late."