Chapter One

The Nightmare of a Little Sister

Deception.

Burning.

Betrayal.

Mystic.

Arrow.

Pale faces.

Purple wings.

Death.

Death.

Death.

I snapped awake. My eyes were wide with alert only to see the darkness of my room. I was sweating, entangled in the cream-colored sheets as the dizzying aftermath of the nightmare still buzzed through my thoughts. I'd been having the same nightmare for days now. Every detail was always the same, but yet it never made any sense. It was just random thoughts jumbled into one big mess that made no sense to me. No sense at all.

That's what scared me so much. It wasn't the images themselves that were frightening; it was the fact that I had no idea what they meant. The unknown, the anonymous… that's what scares me the most.

I slithered out form the coils of sheets that had wrapped themselves around me. I ran a small hand through my hair as I concentrated on pushing the nightmare from my mind. It was just a stupid dream, I thought as I walked along the cool wooden floor to my high bedroom window. It doesn't mean anything.

I pulled back the lacy curtain that covered the window, revealing a spectacular view of Alicante. I traced the lacy material in my fingertips. In my eyes, everything looked better when the sun went down. The houses were illuminated by witchlight from within them. The streetlamps, also lit up by witchlight, cast irregular shadows in every direction. The glass from the demon towers gleamed with silver protection from the stars that could never fade, never dissolve, and never die. The demon towers made me smile. It reminded me of the fact that as long as I was in Alicante, I was safe, invincible even. And with all of the incidents that were happening with Valentine, I needed to feel a sense of protection.

I released the lace from my hands. I had collected myself again, after I let something as silly as a dream get to me. What the hell was wrong with me? I'm a Shadowhunter, a Nephilim. I can kill demons without fear but nearly lose my marbles when it comes to a stupid dream? What kind of a Shadowhunter am I?

Still in the dark, I moved silently to the other side of the room where my tall dresser proudly stood. I opened the drawer that was third from the top, pulling out my fighting gear. I was in these clothes so often that these were the clothes that I felt most comfortable in. They gave me a sense of being strong, like I could strike down anything that came in my way.

I pulled on the familiar articles of clothing. I had the feel of each piece memorized, from the black leather pants to the silky but skin-tight tank top to the rough black belt to my custom-made knee-high leather boots. I adored these boots more than anything in the world. They could hold so many daggers and weapons and they were so easy to fight in. I treasured them the way a vampire valued the night.

I glanced over my shoulder, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. This was the Adalyssa Phoenixworth that I knew. Her dark hair— only a few shades lighter than her black fighting gear— fell in waves halfway down her back, clashing with her porcelain skin. Her eyes were bright, golden brown, resembling cracked amber. This was the girl that made demons shudder. This was the girl that wasn't afraid of nightmares or things that went bump in the night. Hell, this was the girl that killed whatever went bump in the night.

My bedroom door slammed open then. I didn't jump, but instead continued examining myself in the mirror.

"Don't you ever knock?" I asked, an annoyed tone to my voice. "I could've been changing." I turned my eyes to see the tall blonde in the doorway.

"If you'd been changing, I would've run out of here screaming," the blonde male said simply. His eyes swept over me. "Why the hell are you in fighting gear?"

"Why the hell do you care?" I retorted. He rolled his navy blue eyes.

"Can't I ever get a straight answer out of you?"

"Nope."

He scoffed, shaking his shaggy blonde head as he leaned against the doorframe. He mumbled something that sounded like, "Why didn't I ask for a little brother?"

"Logan, please. Your life would be completely incomplete without me," I said.

Logan is my older brother by three years, and, from what I've been told, looks exactly like my mother. Not that I would know. My mother died twelve years ago, back when I was four. I can barely remember what she looked like, but when I concentrate hard enough, I can see a blurry image of a beautiful woman with a halo of golden hair. And before that picture can clear, it's gone.

"Maybe so. But it would be a lot easier," he said with a half smile. "But, seriously, why are you in your gear?"

I sighed. Logan and I never had that brother-sister teasing rivalry that I saw on television when I visited Paris. He was more like a fatherly figure that was constantly trying to protect me. And, frankly, it gets a little annoying. I'm sixteen, not five.

"Cause I wanted to," I said, my boots making quiet thuds as I walked towards him. Even with the boots, Logan towered over me. Granted I was only five foot one and he was five eleven…

"It was the nightmare again, wasn't it?" Logan said. His blue eyes searched my golden ones. I didn't say anything. He knew the answer already, so why waste my breath?

"Look, Ada, it was just a dream. It's not real. It can't hurt you," he said, his large hand rubbing my arm. He'd said those words to me since I was six. I'd run into his room countless times with my latest nighttime horror, and he'd always say the same words to me.

"I know, Logan. I'm not a little girl anymore," I said, squirming out of his soothing touch. Instead, Logan wrapped me in a big bear hug.

"You're still my little sister," he said as I suffocated.

"That's nice. I'm hungry," I said, strategically maneuvering out of the hug. I swerved into the hallway, which was dim with witchlight. I heard Logan sigh.

"Well, Éline's gone. The adults are in the Gard, and she didn't leave food," Logan said as he followed me down the grand staircase. This staircase always made me feel like a princess walking down to a royal ball. It was fashioned of hand-polished, hand-cut marble. But I wasn't a princess. I was a Shadowhunter, and Shadowhunters don't attend royal balls.

Logan followed me into the high-windowed kitchen, where I rummaged around for food. Logan plopped himself down in a cushioned chair by the fireplace, twisting his stele in the firelight as I tore through the cabinets. All I found was a bowl of stale-tasting nuts. Éline really needed to get more food in this house.

Éline is our aunt, our mother's sister. She took us in after our parents died. She did her best to be a motherly figure to the both of us, even though she was twenty-six. She was young and gorgeous, a well-known Shadowhunter that had an extremely strong influence on the Clave. I could never decide if that was because she was beautiful or cunning or both.

I threw the foul-tasting nuts into the fireplace. They made a low pop, then a crackle as they burned. Logan looked at me through his thick black lashes, and I wondered why he wasn't up at the Gard.

"Why aren't you at the Gard?" I asked. Logan made a face.

"Éline wouldn't let me."

"Why? You're of age. You're an adult," I said.

"I tried explaining that to her. She wouldn't listen. She said something about I wouldn't understand. And that I have to keep an eye on you," he looked up at me, smirking. "So, I'm basically on babysitter duty."

"I don't need a babysitter!" I said, my voice echoing off the walls and rippling back at me.

"Ah, denial. The fact that you think you don't just proves you need one," he said, his smirk growing into a crooked smile. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"Whatever. I'm gonna take a walk," I said, walking past my golden brother to the heavy door. I snatched my coat off the coat hanger, pulling it on. The coat had been a present from Éline a few years back. It was a deep indigo color that went all the way to my knees.

"In your fighting gear?" he asked, arching a perfect eyebrow as he twirled his stele between his index fingers. "Don't you think people will get a little, I don't know, suspicious? A teen girl, more importantly you, aimlessly walking around in fighting gear?"

"Yes. Do you think I give a damn?"

"No," he said, his eyes not leaving his stele. "But I do. Don't go out tonight."

I gave a frustrated sigh. "I'll be fine, Logan."

"Will you just listen to me for once?"

"I am listening. I'm also telling you that I'll be fine."

"Whatever, Ada. I don't feel like arguing with you. Do whatever you want," Logan said. He wasn't trying to hide the irritation in his tone. I cringed on the inside. I hated and loved these moments. Love because Logan got off my back. And hate because he was pissed off at me, and Logan's wrath could last days at a time.

"Fine. I will," I said simply. My hand was on the golden door handle when Logan spoke up again.

"I'm not waiting up for you," Logan called as I slipped out the classic-looking door into the night air. That was code for, "Adalyssa Phoenixworth, you'd better be back before I wake up."

Author's Note:

This is my first time writing on this site, so please be kind! This is going to be a huge fan fiction involving The Vampire Diaries, The Mortal Instruments, and The Twilight Saga. I will openly accept constructive criticism, but please, no negative comments! I hope I roped some of you in and chapter two will be up very soon.

XoXo,

Charlotte