Prologue

Valentine was walking slowly down the streets to the airport. That women had betrayed him, leaving him for something as petty as a few hits to the face. It wasn't like he had actually hurt her, she just needed to be taught a lesson. It didn't matter now though, he had hurt her sufficiently in return. He could remember the fight clearly.

"Hey, where have you been?" Valentines wife called as he drunkenly tripped through the door. He found her sitting in the living room sitting on the couch reading. He glared at her. "Are you drunk?" she asked as he tumbled to the kitchen. He stuck his nose in the fridge looking for some food, he was starving. She waked into the kitchen after him. "You know John likes you to put him to bed," she said to him scowling. "And you go drink, we have kids Val, you can't drunk all the time." She told him but he didn't care to listen to anything she was saying.

"Where is the food? I'm starving" he asked not finding anything worth eating in the fridge.

"It's on the counter" she sighed pointing irritably to the plate on the counter. He sauntered over there to grab it, dismayed when he found a measly sandwich with some chips.

"This is it? That's all you made me? I'm a man not a child I need a real meal," he said angry now.

"Well what do you expect me to make? We don't have anything else" she growled at him with a glare. He narrowed his eyes at her. Was she really talking back to him?

"You go shopping" he said as though she was stupid.

"Yeah, with what money?" she asked and he rounded on her eyes bright with fury. He stalked over to her and backhanded her, she held her cheek in surprise.

"I do so much for you and our son, do not belittle me," he said heatedly as he violently threw her against the wall and smacked her again. He balled up his fist, muttering about how no one appreciated him. The he socked her in the nose, and she crumpled to the floor. She laid there for a while dazed and expecting more hits. When they didn't come she slowly got up off the floor.

"Get out, now" she said shaking but her voice completely serious. He got his things and stormed out of the apartment.

She was not going to do that to him without repercussions. Kicking him out of his own house. He just regretted that he wouldn't be there to see it when she realized what he had done. The little boy walking by his side clutched his hand tighter when the wind howled. Valentine smiled, it wouldn't till morning when she found him missing.

Chapter 1

Clary hated High School, but Mondays after the first semester was even worse. The school was filled with hormone-crazed teens and hypocritical teachers. All they do is complain about students who are late, but can hardly be there on time themselves. Walking into Merriweather High was no different, and was exactly like her old school. Her mother Jocelyn and had decided to move across the States from Oregon to New York. Needless to say, Clary was not too pleased about the change. She had love their little house outside of town with the wide open space. It let her creativity flow without the disruption of loud noises. Now she was in New York where it was all noise, and people lived so close together she was feeling claustrophobic.

Grumbling to herself about the unfairness of the move under her breath as she wormed her way through the crowds of people in the hallway toward the office to get her schedule. She felt a sharp pain on her bottom and looked behind her. A tall guy with silvery hair and pale skin winked at her. He was a jock which was made obvious by the letterman's jacket he was wearing, and he had the darkest eyes she had ever seen. She sent him her best glare and continued to the office annoyed but, she had found that ignoring them would make them lose interest and move on. At the Office sat a motherly looking lady with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She had a kind smile.

"Hey can I get my schedule, my names Clary Fray" she said to the receptionist who looked up with a start. She nodded and printed out the schedule.

"Of course dear, here you go" she said handing a slip of paper to her, "make sure to stop by if you need anything, my names Amatis Garroway." Clary nodded, thanked her, and walked away looking at the paper with her information. There was her locker number with her classes and art as her elective. First hour was English with Mr. Garroway, and her locker was in the new building. There was two buildings on this campus simply referred to as the old and new buildings though they looked the same. Clary went in search of her locker and bumped into a brown haired boy with dark eyes hidden behind a pair of large round glasses. He had gamer's shirt on, and had a dorky look to him. She decided he looked approachable enough, at least he didn't look as obnoxious like everyone else so she went after him when he walked off.

"Hi?" he said it like it was a question. "Can I help you?" he asked as though people coming to see him was unusual. Looking at him, she could tell people probably thought he was some lame nerd and wouldn't hang out with him.

"My names Clary, can you help me find my class? I don't want to talk to anyone else, and I need help." He nodded at her and held his hand out for her schedule which she put in his hand.

"You are lucky, you have Luke first hour. He is the best English teacher, you'll like his class. I'm Simon by the way." He said all in one breath, it was kind of cute how nervous he was. She followed him to a classroom at the end of the hall. She straightened her back, and went into the room.

Mr. Garroway was a tall muscled man about the same age as Clary's mother. He had brown hair and glasses that framed his light blue eyes. He wore a button up flannel shirt with jeans. She liked him almost immediately as he had a kind, gentle nature about him.

"Luke you have a new student" Simon told him walking to the desk Mr. Garroway was sitting behind. He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at Clary. She smiled back at him and stretched out her hand for him to shake. He had a strong, firm, but gentle grip.

"Hello I'm Mr. Garroway, you can call me Luke" he told her as they shook hands.

"Clarissa Fray, call me Clary" she said to him with a smile.

Luke was a pretty easy-going teacher, and was really nice. All the students liked his class because he made it interesting. Clary had to admit it was a fun class and found herself liking Luke more and more. She would call him Mr. Garroway, but that just sounded weird with his easy going nature so she simply called him Luke.

The rest of her classes were okay nothing to interesting besides her math teacher that came from hell. Her name was Mrs. Herondale. Her hair was tied into a strict tight bun and was graying at the edges. Her face was devoid of emotion when she was angry. Then her eyes would narrow and her mouth would go into a straight line right before she sent you to the office. She was a hard teacher, and was harsh on her students.

It was now lunch and Clary walked to the cafeteria slowly hoping no one would notice her so she could slip outside unnoticed. The cafeteria smelled of nasty greasy pizza and days old fish. Just like that Clary's appetite had vanished. Isn't there a law against poisoning kids with cafeteria food? With her appetite now ruined she headed for the doors to go outside, and stopped when she saw Simon sitting on under a tree at the edge of the lunch area. She didn't want to eat alone in silence and look like a loner.

"Hey mind if I sit?" she asked sitting down without waiting for his answer. He looked up surprised, and then realizing it was her nodded. She had been hanging out with him throughout her classes so far. He was getting accustom to her presence. Simon was a nice guy, definitely nerdy considering the only thing he could talk about was the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars. Simon's reasoning was that if they were to be friends then she at least had to know the difference and he took it upon himself to educate her.

They deliberated on Spock and Yoda which were the one character from each series she liked. She actually found the conversation entertaining despite the fact she wasn't really into Star Wars or Star Trek. If she had to pick one though she would say it was Star Wars, Simon full heartedly agreed it was better to even if he liked both.

The bell to go to class rang, which was thankfully art. Clary loved art, and always has a sketch book with her. It was one of the many things she had in common with her mother, besides being vertically challenged and the bright red curly hair. Their love for art was mutual, and she couldn't wait for the class. Though her mother was far more talented than she was. Her mood was fouled a little when she realized that the class she was going to was taught by her mother. It was the reason they moved here, her mother received a job offer to teach as an art class and she jumped at the offer.

Clary groaned in her head, already dreading the semester of being called out in class for answers and constant reminders to get her artwork done. One of the many perks of being the daughter of a teacher. She walked into the room slouched and with her head down, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She sat down in the back row, holding onto the faint hope that if her mother couldn't see her she wouldn't call on her. It was a slim chance but right now she was willing to take anything she could.

"Hello class my name is Jocelyn Fray, I am looking forward to working with, and getting to know all of you, I am the new art teacher," Clary's mother said, she ducked her head even lower when her mother looked at her. Clary could clearly imagine her mother calling her up in front of class to talk about herself. "I need to find out where you guys are as a class, so we will start with something simple, todays lesson will be to find or think of something that inspires you and recreate it." Clary couldn't hold the smile back when the class groaned at the vague prompt. This was exactly what she expected from her mother, vague ideas that the class was expected to make something of. Her mother believed in only vague things when it came to art so they students could let there "creative juices flow," as her mother would say. "It will be due at the end of class tomorrow" her mother said. Well she must be feeling generous if she gave us two class periods to do it. Her mother was a nice teacher but strict. She did it in a way that made students like her but work hard and be inspired all in one. Clary got a piece of paper out and started drawing. Her head drifted off into a dangerous place as her pencil moved across the page. Her father. She didn't know much about him considering her mother would never tell her anything. What she had managed to annoy out of Jocelyn was that they had a big falling out and he had left. That's it, no pictures, no letters, nothing. She didn't even know his name or if he know about her. If he tried to make contact and visit, if he had wanted to. It was a list of unanswered questions.

Clary cut off that train of thought immediately, nothing good ever came from thinking of her father. She decided to focus on what she was drawing and her heart thumped painfully in her chest. It was a portrait of a tall man with his red headed little daughter. He looked like she imagined her father would with red hair and her jaw. It was the one thing she knew she had gotten from her father her slightly angular strong jaw. It was definitely not Jocelyn's whose jaw was petite and more soft than angular. Clary's heart thumped again. Dang it, she knew better than to think of him, It never led to anything but hurt feelings, questions, and broken hearts.