Chapter 1

Clary Fray woke up with a start. Another strange dream; always consisting of demons, seraph blades and… prunes? Runes? She was still fuzzy from sleep, as she leant over knocking her alarm clock with such power, it skipped a second. Clary pulled on her navy blue sweater carelessly, ripping apart the seams by her pocket and leaving a gaping hole. Not that she cared; all she could think about is a golden halo of hair whipped up by the wind. Clary shook her head, trying to clear the images from her mind, but she was sure there was a name to that figure always in her dreams.

Today, she was meant to be meeting Simon at Starbucks. Clary was tempted to bail out, fake sick. All she wanted to do was curl up in a tight ball in the corner of her room debating whether or not to tell Simon about her recurring – NO, I will NOT think about this anymore! – She whisper-shouted forcefully. There were more pressing matters than that. One of them to try to sneak out of her house before her mom notices. Jocelyn Fray was positive that these 'mystical beings named shadowhunters' as she calls them, are completely and utterly dangerous as much as they are real. She blamed her dad for all this; ever since he left she became fascinated in these stories. Not that Clary listened to her mother's constant shadowhunting related rambling, however there was one thing that stuck. Starbucks in Brooklyn apparently has the biggest – and most lethal – portal. Well in this world anyway. Clary once asked why they didn't move if her mother was so convinced of looming danger from this 'portal', but only received an answer of 'I need to protect this, I need to protect this' again and again and again.

Cautiously, like a deer caught in headlights, Clary tiptoed through her door (which was recently oiled so not squeaky) and plastered in stickers and silly photo booth pictures of her and Simon. She wanted to get rid of them desperately, hating the idea of such an unflattering pose captured in a single click of a camera. However, Simon talked her into keeping them, and even sticking them on her door. Clary held her breath as she passed her mother's study, which is where she was often. Clary took after her mom as the ultimate fangirl. She spent most of her free time writing fanfiction on a site called ' '. Simon was always up to date with Clary's fanfic and supported her even when she got anon hate.

"Clary! Where do you think you're going?!" a familiar voice shattered her daydream like a football hitting a glass wall around her brain.

"Oh, hi mom," she breathed trying her hardest not to look guilty, "Just thought I'd go to the library, pick up some new books. Divergent looks good."

"Yeah, yeah, don't lie to me. Simon called" Jocelyn replied in a sing-song voice. Oh.

"Oh…" she spoke allowed this time, "about that-"

"No more lies Clary, I knew this would happen someday"

"Whatever he said-"

"You're going on a date. To Oranjee!" Jocelyn squealed.

"Oh" stop saying oh, it makes you look guilty!

"Why didn't you tell me!"

"Tell you wha-"Clary replayed the conversation in her head. SIMON! Of course he knew about her mom's obsessions, but that lie went too far. WAY too far. She'll have to have a word with him later.

"Hmm I'm gonna be late. Bye." Clary stalked out of the house, her irritated glare falling upon the open lock of the front door. Without waiting for another reply, she trailed through the busy streets of Brooklyn, yet everything looked distorted as is she was peering through a kaleidoscope. A light through the dark, a wrong decision, a lifetime of misery, golden hair, pure white hair, runes, dangerous runes, dark coursing through the light –

"Calary!"

Only one person called her that nickname! Simon was chasing after her, his auburn hair falling into his eyes.

"Oh hey Salmon"

"Don't call me that!" Simon protested whilst she stopped so he could catch up with her.

"You know you love me really! Plus, I have to put up with YOU calling me that…"

"STARBUCKS calling you that actually."

"And YOU continue to!"

It was true. Starbucks, overflowing with numerous workers incapable of spelling most names, once spelled Clary 'Calary' (which I guess is an unusual name, but still!) and Simon 'Salmon' (shuh-duh)! But now it was an inside joke with them now and they frequently stopped off at Starbucks.

"Anyway," Simon began, after his breathing returned to normal "You walked straight passed Starbucks, despite me sitting at the window! And waving manically at you… I got some strange looks"

Ugh, why do those dreams have to be so distracting!?

"What?" Simon asked, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"You are strange" Clary corrected herself after realising she said that out loud.

"Come on then, I can hear my iced coffee calling me!" Simon said dashing back to order.

Clary followed, or more like jogged to keep up with him. Her short legs struggled to keep up with his large strides, especially when he was in a hurry. They got teased a lot as kids and called 'Big and Small' after a young kids programme.

Clary ordered her usual (mango and passion fruit smoothie) and waited impatiently by the till, fidgeting and sighing when someone else's drink was ready. Simon's drink was ready first and he hopped out of the way before anyone pushed him out of the queue. Today was busier than normal, people fighting over chairs and tables, and Clary blamed it on the humid weather. However, she blamed every annoyance in life when it was a hot temperature as she was more of a winter kind of girl. Clary refused to acknowledge the heat and just wore sweaters and jeans all year round. She tossed her vibrant, red hair out of the way, wishing she had brought a hairband with her to tie it up. Someone's bag caught in the hole of her sweater, making it rip further apart. Where is my drink?! Another person tapped her shoulder twice insistently. Seeing as this person didn't call her name of hand her a drink, Clary immediately saw this person as an enemy.

"Do you mind…?" She started but the words choked in her throat. No! Too familiar!

"Ah, my dear Clarissa" he hissed and yanked her arm.