I gasped as the air was forced from lungs. I rolled over onto my hands and knees then slowly pushed myself up. When I got my breath back I whirled to face my brother.

"What the hell Jonathan!"

Jon was currently rolling on the floor clutching his stomach in pain. I walked over and nudged him with my foot then helped him stand. He ran a hand threw his white hair and winced at the movement.

"God, Clary all I did was tickle you. In what world does that mean you can go and break my ribs?"

"The world where sane people know not to tickle me."

He crossed his arms as he looked at me with disbelief. I was taken aback by how much he looked like our father. Same white blonde hair, chiseled features, body build, and even the same attractive air of confidence around them. The only difference was our father had black eyes while Jon's were bright green. Our eyes were the only thing that my brother and I have in common. Where I was short he was tall, while I had bright red hair he had white, making me stand out when I was with Jon and our father. I looked just like my mother, well as far as I could remember. She was killed when Jon was ten and I was eight. Dad had all of the pictures of her destroyed because they brought to much pain. Nine years later I find that the only things I can remember is her hair and eyes and the compassion she showed to everyone and everything.

I was pulled from my thoughts when the door to the library was thrown open. My father walked in with a few people from the circle. When he saw us, he dismissed his followers and collapsed into the desk chair. Jon and shared a look then walked toward him. We both knew better then to talk to him in this mood so we waited.

"Jonathan. Clarissa. Please sit."

We sat in the chairs that were in front of the large oak desk. I squirmed finding myself uncomfortable in the current situation. My father's view of the world were rather harsh, as were his ways of dealing with certain problems. Jon had never had any thoughts about following through with our fathers wishes. He almost worshiped him. I however did not find the solutions appropriate. I often questioned him which just caused more anger. He gave me harder tasks just to test my loyalty. Even if I hated what I was doing, my father and brother were the only family I had left and I couldn't bring myself to fight against them.

"I have some things that I need you two to do for me. You will have to leave the manor and the missions will be separate but you both will be in the same city. I left the information in your rooms. You will be leaving first thing tomorrow."

Jon and I nodded then waited for our dismissal. As we were leaving I saw Jon's excited smile and our father's expectant look. We stopped as we heard him call our names.

"Just one last thing, whatever you find in those folders just know that I did it to make you stronger. It is time that you two know what you are."

I frowned, confused by what he was saying. He turned away and began to write down something. I took a step towards him preparing to ask what he meant when Jon grabbed my arm and pulled me through the winding halls off our home. He stopped when we reached the training room.

"Will you ever learn Clary," he asked.

"I just wanted to know what he meant Jon."

He laughed, I guessed that he was just a little shocked that I still had the nerve to continue asking. He tossed me a sword, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Can you still hold your own little sister?"

I swung the sword expertly in my hands and sent him a terrifying grin that even he shied away from.

"I guess we will see."

It had been months since I last practiced with Jon. Lately we were always running and completing missions for our father and he never let us go together. Jon and I had always been pretty evenly matched. I found it comforting that we had not lost our rhythm. We twirled effortlessly around each other, the clang of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the large room. It seemed like hours had passed of us caught in a stale mate, when I finally caught a mistake. Jon had lunged too far and wasn't properly balanced. I quickly kicked out at his weaker leg and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to the ground. I held my blade to his chest and let out a victorious laugh.

Jon stood and sent me a calculating look.

"How is it that I had expected you to fight with the same skills you had when you were five?"

"Jon, I have been beating you for years. Your baby sister has grown up, get over it," I sent him a smirk. He playfully glared back then sprung at me knocking me to the ground.

"You have got to learn to expect surprises Clarissa," he warned me with a loopy smile on his face.

I pushed him off of me and we continued to practice for a few more hours, using all the different kinds of weapons that we had.

I stumbled into my room at about ten o'clock. My sore muscles only helping the feeling of exhaustion.

I pulled of my sweaty training gear and climbed into the shower. I stayed in there much longer then I probably should but I had found the hot water to be incredibly relaxing. I climbed out of the shower and wiped the steam off of the mirror. I brushed out my long red curls then piled my hair into a thick bun on top of my head. I padded, barefoot, out of my bathroom and into my large room.

I had one side of my room set up with books and art supplies, the other had various weapons, hung on the wall, ready for whenever I needed them. My plain walls were decorated with drawings or paintings that I had made. My bed rested right under one of my paintings of my father, Jon, and myself.

On my bed I saw two folders, one was tan and the other had a brown hue to it and it looked used. I picked up the newer looking folder and found that the information about the mission was inside. The only thing in there was a piece of paper that said go to New York with Jonathan. Stay in the same place as him and hunt as many demons as you can.

I glared at the paper and turned it over expecting to find more writing but came up with nothing. I was suddenly infuriated. I did all this work and trained my butt off for a father who doesn't even care just to be told that I had to stay with Jon and HUNT DEMONS!

I threw the folder down and for a moment I forgot about the other one. When I caught sight of it my heart began to beat faster. This must have been what my father had been talking about.

I opened it slowly, as though if I moved to fast it would bite. In the folder were pictures of me. I was hooked to tubes and in each picture there was something different being pumped into me. In one it looked like a black sort of sludge. In the other it was something so bright that in the picture it was a white blur.

Why couldn't I remember this happening to me? The pictures looked recent enough that some of thing could have been from today. Others were taken when I was a baby.

I found the papers in the back. All of them were in my father's hand writing. They explained that my own father had been subjecting me to his experiments. He had been alternating pumping demon and angel blood into my system. It had started when my mother had been pregnant with me. She had had no clue what he was doing.

It talked about how I was a lot stronger than any other shadow hunters. I had known that a few things were different about me like the ability to create new runes and how I could read minds and speak into people's minds. It came into handy when I wanted to have a conversation without either of us participants opening our mouths. When my father had found out about it he had beat me until I had promised not to use it on him.

When it came to everything else, I had never seen anything different. Jon and I had always been able to protect ourselves. I certainly was not better than him.

Then the thought hit me. Like it had been standing there and I just watched the fist fly into my face. The air got caught in my lungs. Valentine had done the same experiments to Jon.

This is my first ever fanfiction so I am sorry if it is bad. Just let me know what you think! :)