Clary POV

I bit my lip nervously as I gazed at the dark wooden door. Raven mindlessly twirled a knife between her fingers. That was the only sign of anxiety she showed, if I hadn't known her for as long as I had I wouldn't have thought she was nervous at all. Finally, after what felt like hours, the door opened and Magnus poked his head out. The fluorescent light caught on the glitter in his eyeshadow, giving him a slightly supernatural look. He had his signature mischievous smirk on his face.

"The Director is ready for you know," he said, winking. Raven sheathed her knife and followed Magnus as he opened the door widely. I trailed after her, tugging on my fiery curls. I sat beside Raven in a spindly wooden chair in front of a polished mahogany desk. Sitting behind the desk was Director Penhallow, a tall Asian woman with sharp features. She looked at us, her face expressionless. I tapped my leg repeatedly, but then Raven shot me a look, so I stopped. The Director cleared her throat.

"I'm disappointed in you two. You disobeyed direct orders from your supervisor. Graymark is not happy, and neither is Malik. What am I supposed to tell the Director of the FBI? 'Oh, sorry that our two best agents blew their covers and endangered the whole operation, it won't happen again?'" I looked down at her feet, ashamed. However, Raven spoke up.

"They were going to kill those kids, Director! Did you just expect us to sit there and let them be blown up!?" I looked up again, surprised. Normally, Raven was the silent one of us two. Director Penhallow narrowed her eyes, and then put her face in her hands.

"I know… you did the morally good thing… but I'm on bad enough terms with the FBI as it is, the last thing I need is for them to complain about you two to the CIC! I have to set an example," she said, sighing. I waited with baited breath for the Director to tell us we were fired. The CIA had been my life (and Raven's) since we had gotten out of the mess in Japan. I don't know what I would do if I had to leave.

"I'm not going to fire you," Director Penhallow told us with a twinkle in her eye. I let out a breath. Raven stopped playing with the knife she had taken back out of her sheath.

Thank God, I thought.

"I am, however, kicking you down to bodyguard duty for a job. I don't want to hear it," she said, looking sternly at Raven who had opened her mouth to speak. "You're lucky I don't assign you two Desk Duty for the next month. It's just one job." I was about to argue, but seeing the look in her eyes, I thought better of it. I sighed, and gestured for her to continue. "The Alicante FBI HQ is short on staff, and so we're lending a hand. One of their agents," Raven snorted. There was a long-standing rivalry between the CIA and the FBI, and Raven questioned their right to be called 'agents'. She preferred the term 'employees'. "Agents," repeated the Director, ignoring Raven, "Stephen Herondale, has been issued a threat by Pangborn, a notorious Mafia leader." A jolt ran through my body at the name 'Pangborn'. Raven gripped my fingers in comfort underneath the table. She was the only one who knew about my past before the CIA - she had been there. She had helped me get rid of it. I took a deep breath and tried to forget about it.

"A death threat?" I asked. Raven shot me a look as if to say 'Duh'. The Director bit her lip.

"Not exactly…" She said. I tapped out 'Ha' on Raven's hand in morse code.

She rolled her eyes, then asked, "What do you mean, not exactly?" Director Penhallow pulled a file from her desk.

"There was a death threat issued, but for his son," she said, opening the file. Inside was a picture of a seventeen-year-old boy smirking confidently at the camera. He had honey-blond hair and a golden tan. He was also the most handsome person Clary had ever seen. If she hadn't had extensive training on how to control her emotions, she might have swooned. "Jace Herondale is a senior at Idris High. He has no siblings. You two are there to make sure Pangborn doesn't succeed. To do that, you're going to have to be with him every second of the day, and you're going to have to blend in." The room was silent until Raven spoke up.

"Does that mean we have to -"

"Oh dear God no," I muttered, dreading Penhallow's response. Magnus, who was lurking in the corner, smirked. The Director nodded, smiling slightly.

"Yes. You'll have to go to school with him, and pretend to be a normal highschool student." Raven took her knife back out and resumed twirling it.

"But we're nineteen, a little too old for high school," I said, trying to worm my way out of it. I had never liked any type of school or class, except for the combat ones we took here. I had even broken my piano teacher's nose when Raven had convinced me to try a musical instrument.

"It's not that big of a difference, and frankly, Clary, you could pass for a freshman with your height."

Raven snorted. I pinched her arm, and she quickly silenced herself. I knew I was only 5.2, but Raven wasted no opportunity to remind me that she was seven inches taller than me. The Director cleared her throat. We looked back at her, sheepish.

"You'll only have this job until Pangborn is no longer a threat, and we have our best agents on the case," She told us, trying to reassure us. I raised my eyebrows. "Alright," she amended, "Our third, fourth, and fifth best agents on the case." I rolled my eyes, and she handed me the file. "You're going to be two sisters who just lost both of their parents to a car crash, and the Herondales are letting you stay with them until you turn 18, which will be next year," Penhallow said, giving us our cover story. Raven and I looked skeptical. We looked nothing alike. Raven was tall, had bronze skin, with straight jet-black hair and a curvy body. I was short, had milky pale skin, unruly ginger curls, lots of freckles, and no curves to speak of. The only thing we had in common was emerald green eyes. The Director saw our confusion. "You were both adopted."

I nodded in understanding. The Director handed me the file and told us we had the night to familiarize ourselves with the rest of the information. Raven and I made our way back to our apartment. I started making pancakes as she sat cross-legged on the couch, reading the file. As I mixed the batter I saw Raven punch the air.

Seeing my questioning look, she said, "Our supervisor is Magnus." I grinned along with her. Magnus was always the most laid-back supervisor, along with the fact that he was just fabulous. I remembered the last time Magnus was our supervisor - the Russian Job, when we had to gather intel about the SVR higher-ups. That had ended with a bang - literally, along with several angry housewives and an albino peacock (don't ask).

Raven and I were always together on jobs. We had a Parabatai Clause in our contract with the CIA, which meant that if we couldn't do the job together we didn't do it at all. I flipped the first pancake and glanced back at Raven, who was now hanging off the back of the couch by her legs. She had a modified version of ADHD, where if she wasn't paying attention, her body would move around.

"So your name is Clarissa Frey, and you're seventeen. I'm Raven Blackthorn, and I'm eighteen. I was adopted at four years old when my blood mother was murdered by some thugs in an alleyway. I never knew who my father was. You were adopted at seven when your parents drowned," Raven told me, reading from the file. We always used our first names during jobs to lessen confusion, but never our last names. The CIA didn't even know our real last names. They thought mine was Fairchild and Raven's was Carstairs. Raven, who was amazing with a computer, had erased all traces of our past lives. The CIA still didn't suspect a thing.

I piled the pancakes onto a plate and set them on our small dining table. Raven was now sitting on the kitchen counter, still reading from the file. "Our foster parent's names were Charlotte and Henry Branwell. We used to live in - pancakes! Thanks, Clare!" Raven had spotted the food. She grabbed two extra plates, plastic cutlery, and the maple syrup before sitting down. She handed me a plate and a fork, before grabbing three pancakes. I rolled my eyes, used to her antics, and grabbed one for myself.

Around most people, Raven was silent, still (although that took a lot of concentration,) and lethal-looking. However, I had managed to knock down all of the walls she put up around other people, and saw her as she truly was. Sweet, cuddly, and lethal. That was the mistake most people made around both of us. While they sized up Raven as deadly, I was always underestimated. While this pissed me off a lot, it was useful.

We quickly finished the pancakes and Raven washed up while I scanned the file. Nothing else interesting. Jace seemed like your typical highschool jock. Captain of the football team, seen with a lot of girls but didn't have a girlfriend, so probably a player. That pissed me off. If a guy slept with a bunch of people, he was respected, envied, and all the girls wanted him. If a girl slept with a bunch of people, she was called a slut, and ridiculed. Raven told me goodnight and collapsed onto her bed. I chuckled, and got into bed myself.

The next morning, I woke up at 5:30 per usual, and packed a suitcase full of stuff a normal seventeen-year-old girl would have. I then took a second bag into my weapons room. I packed a standard tracker and a bio tracker, a .41 Rimfire revolver, a CZ-USA 85 Combat, plenty of bullets, and a knife. Knives were more Raven's thing than mine - close combat helped with her ADHD. I tucked a loaded .44 mm pistol into the waistband of my pants (the safety was on, obviously). I brushed my hair, but gave up halfway through, and pulled it up into a quick bun.

Raven was already waiting for me at the door, tossing a small object up in the air. I realized what it was, and snatched it away from her.

"What the Hell, Raven? You could have blown us up!" She had the decency to look sheepish as I put the grenade into my bag, the fuse off and the pin still (thankfully) in. I shook my head at her, mystified. Raven, with an IQ of 137, sometimes had no common sense. We left the apartment and headed to the address in our file.

We pulled up in front of a giant white mansion. Stephen's wife, Celine, was the CEO of some fancy fashion company, Prude of Prada or something, so they were loaded. Also, some relative of theirs, Imogen Herondale, had just died, leaving them a substantial fortune. Raven and I plodded carefully up the front steps, and she kept fingering the knife she had strapped to her leg. She reached up and rang the gold-plated doorbell.

Raven POV

I pressed the fancy doorbell, and then stepped back from the door as to not seem rude. I glanced back at Clary and couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in those skinny jeans and the red blouse. I blinked hard, trying to forget what I had just thought. It wasn't fair to Clary, we were best friends, and I was pretty sure she's straight.

The door opened, and an old man in a suit stood behind in.

"This is the Herondale residence. Are you expected?" He asked in a snobbish tone, his nose slightly turned up. I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing. Clary glanced at me and I saw humor in her eyes before she turned back to the butler man.

"Yes. Agents Fairchild and Carstairs," she told him. Stephen Herondale had said to trust the butler in the file, so he was one of the only people who would know their true identities. The butler gaped us. He showed no signs of stopping, so I stepped forward and closed his mouth for him. "You'll catch flies," I told him as I walked past. I could hear Clary follow me.

There was an ornate wooden staircase curving around the front room. It was lit by an extravagant chandelier. I heard footsteps, and the boy from the photo, Jace, descended from the steps. I suppose he might be called handsome, if I were into that sort of thing. Clary certainly thought he was. She hadn't said anything, but I could tell. The boy smirked.

"Ladies, I know I'm gorgeous, but breaking into my house is a bit much, don't you think?" He said arrogantly. Clary creased her eyebrows, confused. I'd been here five minutes and the kid was already pissing me off.

"Look, asshole, the butler let us in," I snarled back at him. He looked surprised, as if he wasn't used to being talked to like that.

"And you are?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. I glanced at Clary, who was scowling, because she'd never been able to raise just one.

"Agents Carstairs and Fairchild," I told him, distaste coloring my tone. He blinked, and then burst out laughing.

So that was my first chapter. What did you guys think? Was it better or worse than A Court of Love and Lust? Should I continue it? Do you want me to do a Jace POV for the next chapter, or just to stick with the Clary's and Raven's? Do you like Raven? What do you think happened in Japan?