The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones (Twist)/City of Strength
Full Summary: Have you ever felt different from everyone else? Like you didn't belong? Clary Fairchild knows this. Not only is she abnormal in the mundane world, but also in the Shadow World because of her extra angel blood. As a result of her father's experiments, of course. This same man raises Clary through her first five years of life, but she soon returns to her mother. When she is fourteen, though, she must survive on her own and only contact her mom once or twice every month. Three years after this began, Clary's mom is captured by her father, and Clary must search for her mom alone (with the mundane Simon). Along this journey, Clary meets a boy she only heard about in her early childhood, realizes she is more than what she thought, and reunites with a brother she thought she would never see again.
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Prologue
I always attempted to fit in. I never actually tried to do what I did; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Nevertheless, I always stood out like a sore thumb. No matter how hard I tried to lose or to fail or even be average, it just wasn't a possibility for me. I was always the golden child; the angel. The girl who was expected to be everything and anything; perfect in every way possible.
But I wasn't.
No matter what people said, I still made mistakes. I was vulnerable, self-conscious, and I had issues. I still cried when my pets died; I cried during movies. I was just like everyone else, or at least, I wanted to be. I desired for the life that everyone assumed I had, but didn't. I wanted to live in an apartment or house for longer than a few days; I wanted to have a best friend that wasn't long distance. I wanted a family and true love, just like every other teenage girl in the world wanted! I wanted... to be normal.
But I have never been normal or ordinary. From the second I was conceived, I was destined to be a shadow-hunter (a demon hunter). And not just any kind of shadow-hunter, either: no, I was more angel than other shadow-hunters. Even in the abnormal world I was different. Most shadow-hunters simply had the ability to read and draw runes onto their skin for enhancements that only we were able to stand, but I had the talent to create new runes. Usually, only angels had that power. But I was an exception and my father fought for me because of that.
When I was born, my mother was too afraid to look into my eyes. She thought that I would be just like my brother, Jonathan, who had demon blood in him and was slowly losing humanity every day. After my first couple of months of birth, the great battle with the Clave occurred. Lives were lost, and betrayal was realized as my father found my mother had went behind his back and created a plan to destroy his evil accomplishments. My mom had immediately rushed back to her home after the incident, but the damage had already been done: her parents, Valentine, Jonathan, and my bones were all found in the fire of her childhood home. But they weren't ours. Sure, Valentine (my dad) had coldly burned my grandparents, but never his children or himself. He had burned Michael Wayland, his son, and a random mundane child.
Once everyone believed us to be dead, Valentine took my brother and me to the Wayland country estate and let us live in an abandoned house down the road. Half the time, he was with Jonathan and myself. But the other half, he was with his adopted son who had an abnormal amount of angel blood in him, like me. He hadn't a clue that Valentine had another set of children hiding around the corner, or that he wasn't even his true father. Valentine had once mentioned to me that he was Jonathan's counter; they had the same names, strengths, and treatment. However, the adoptive boy preferred Jace over anything you called him. Or, at least, that's what Valentine told me.
At one point, when I was extremely young (perhaps five or six), I grew tired of the facades. Valentine continued to switch back and forth between Jonathan, 'Jace,' and myself, as he were test-tasting each of us on miniature sticks. I hated how Valentine got to pick and choose, and I decided one day that was what I would do as well. I made sure not to tell Jonathan because he would surely inform Valentine, considering he was Valentine's pet. However, I did use some of the skills Valentine had taught me to plan my escape. I created a portal rune and learned all the tricks that came with portals. Once that commenced, I chose an afternoon where Valentine was away and Jonathan was practicing downstairs to make my grand escape. I thought of the picture Valentine kept on our bedside table of Mom, and stepped through.
I ended up in her arms while she was painting. When I landed in front of her, I thought she might have had a mini heart-attack. Once I explained everything to her, though, and about how I was more angel rather than demon, she seemed relieved. But not so much when she found out about Jonathan and Valentine. But she told me later she was glad I hadn't stayed with Valentine; that the good in me was far greater than Valentine could have thought or he would have expected this. She certainly didn't.
I believe it was my first day of kindergarten that my mother soon realized we were going to have problems. She had taken me to a Baptist School that was highly recommended by everyone in the area. I remember that day disturbingly well for some reason. There was chill in the morning air as Mom had walked me up to the sloping hill on the gravely path to the door. Just as we reached threshold, in fact, rain began to pour like God was having a full on crying session. Mom and a plump lady had ushered me through the building (away from the rain) until I reached the play room that was filled with several children my age. Bright colors aligned the well-sized room, as well as an endless abundance of crosses. Examining the room, I gave a wild grin when my favorite toy, a "Pirates of the Caribbean" sword, caught my eye. I glanced behind me, towards my mother, as if to ask for consent, in which she nodded to. And then, I was in my own world with the many children surrounding me.
I had just finished my fruit yogurt during the arranged snack time when the first instance occurred. With a satisfied stomach and the taste of granola rolling on my taste buds, I wearily stood to throw away my trash. As I walked sluggishly to the small trash can in the corner of the room, I felt eyes on the back of my head. I thought perhaps it was a demon of some sort. Whipping my head around quickly, though, I saw that the same chubby woman who had led me to the room was standing behind all the children devouring their food and smiling approvingly at me. Shrugging the instance off indifferently, I proceeded to dispose my empty yogurt container into the trash can and head to the window seat to look at the beautiful garden outside.
There was a vibrant look to the lush green land, no matter how hard the rain pounded down. The small yet gorgeous space was filled with patches upon patches of perfectly trimmed and healthy grass, along with endless rows of lilies and roses. A cobblestone pathway led to the back door that lay at my right, and a miniature pond lay just under the window I gazed out of, filled with clear blue water and lily pads. Yes, the sight was quite breathtaking, all in all. Especially the tiny fairies that danced lightly across the dampened soil, singing cheerfully through the dreary rain.
Amazed, I pressed my face against the glass to make sure that I truly was seeing what I thought and not just some trick of the eye. The fact seemed that I was not incorrect, though. With absolute clarity, I knew for certain that there were pint-sized fairies dancing outside, and I simply couldn't believe the fact. I mean, of course I had studied fairies for years and Valentine had told me countless tales about them, but I had never see one in person. But there they were, singing and skipping right in front of me.
Excited, I whipped my body around and jumped off my seat to run and tell the plump teacher the news. Reaching her in a matter of seconds, I immediately began to explain to her my sightings of the fairies in the courtyard. However dire my information was, though, the caretaker simply shushed me and told me to play with some of toys or interact with some other children while she talked to someone important on the phone. But how could I when I had just had my first sighting of fairies? You're absolutely correct: I simply couldn't!
Inevitably, I ended pestering the woman until she finally hung up the phone and stared me down with a doubtless anger. I probably should have been terrified by that point and just dropped the subject, but I was far too stubborn for that. Instead, I continued to inform the teacher of the fairies that were just outside. That were probably just a couple of feet away! But she just stared me down for the rest of the day and had a talk with Mom after school was over.
After a couple of weeks, I suppose I should have let the supposed sighting go just as every other child did, but I refused. I knew for a fact what I had seen, and every time I opened my mouth, the subject was those fairies. You see, I assumed everyone knew of fairies. I thought that it was just as Valentine had told me in Idris: everyone could see the Shadow World. Nonetheless, that wasn't the case. After a while, I believe everyone was quite worried about my state of mind, and that's when Mom couldn't let us endure that anymore. Mom had us pack and move, and without my friends I had made and the house I'd spent the first part of my childhood in, I stopped the talk of the fairies. There was also the fact that Mom had told me that I was surrounded by mundanes who couldn't see what I saw nor did they believe in those types of things.
The next instance was in second grade. By this time, Mom and I had moved from Connecticut to New York because of the kindergarten instance. One could say she wasn't hesitant at all when it came to moving; it was the secret telling and lying that really got her. However, I am very grateful to her for this fact because if we hadn't moved to New York, I wouldn't have met Simon.
I had the pleasure of meeting Simon when I was six, when we were placed in all of the same classes. I have to say, we'd always been a perfect duo. My carrot-colored hair matched his nerdy glasses, and my lack of height balanced his abundance of it. We were perfect together; we had never fought or even bickered over something other than playful banters. Even after I moved that year, we didn't lose touch. Every night, before we went to bed, we would either email or talk on the phone to each other for an hour or two secretly. As we got older, we received cell phones in which we could text, call, and FaceTime without the hassle.
Anyways, when I was about eight and in second grade, I did something awful. Terrible. Unforgivable. The action was probably the worst choice I could have made, given the situation I was in. I have to admit before I go any farther that I, to this day, still think that what I did was partially right. And in some ways, I suppose it was. I saved my best friend and fellow classmates, but I made life for my mother and myself almost into death. In fact, we would probably still be living in New York if it hadn't been for me.
The day had begun fairly normal. I had woken at the same time I always did; I worn the same baggy jeans and t-shirt combination that I favored over every other piece of my clothing. However, that day ended much differently than it had started. By the time sunset had come, I was bidding my goodbyes to Simon and making arrangements to keep in touch with him. I remember looking into his eyes and being astonished by the emotions I saw in their depths. He never even had to say the words-they were more meaningful without it being said anyway. He told me, "Thank you." And that phrase meant so much more than just two words that day.
Simon and I had been attached at the hip by that point for about two years; we were inseparable. And that being said, it was quite obvious that I chose Simon to be on my dodge-ball team first, even though he was the most nonathletic person I had ever known. Everyone had made jokes about how bias I was when I was a team captain for sports, but I never minded their playful fun. Those children may have been my friends, but Simon was my first and would always be my last friend. My best friend.
After the class had been evenly divided into two teams, the game began. At first, all was well. One of the new transfers to my school, Thomas, was a bit unnerving and cold, but I assumed that was because he was shy about being in a new school with people he didn't know. After all, that was all he ever truly did; he continued to isolate himself from everyone else as if he didn't even want friends. And that consistency was not broken while we played dodge-ball. He stood in the farthest corner of the gym, dodging away from balls when they came near and, otherwise, not participating.
About midway through the class, our gym teacher had to go out into the hall to converse with another teacher about some 'adult' business. We were one of his most trustworthy classes, though, so he allowed us to continue our game. Anyway, the room was filled with a bunch of children, right? What could go wrong? I can answer that question: everything. Everything can go wrong.
The instant the teacher left the huge gymnasium, there was complete havoc in my mind. Thomas had appeared in front of one of my peers in a time span of a second; he had opened his mouth to an impossible size and his teeth had become sharp as razors. And his voice-his awful voice-was similar to the sound nails scraping across a chalk board: loud, screeching, and efficiently unpleasant. The horrid voice filled the entire room, inevitably forcing me to wonder how the entire school couldn't hear the terrible groans erupting from Thomas' mouth. In fact, the scream was so incredibly terrible that I automatically dropped to my knees in pure pain with my hands covering my ears.
In that one second, I was incredibly weak and dependent.
I was absolutely terrified that we were all going to die (or at the very least, go death from the noise). It was obvious Thomas was a demon; there was no doubt about that fact. However, Valentine had never really taught me anything about actually battling any type of demon; he usually left that to Jonathan. I was assigned the reading and intellectual parts of demon hunting, but never the combat. I suppose Valentine could be a bit sexist when he wanted, but I never truly minded. Until then.
The next second, I wasn't anything but strong and entirely confident in myself. I didn't even feel I was near anyone else anymore.
Of course I was still physically near my peers, but my mind was racing through my studies. Weaknesses of different demons; strategies of combat and murder. My duty was to kill that monstrosity of a creature, and keep everyone else safe. Especially Simon, who I had noticed was being unknowingly cornered by Thomas at that moment. I glanced frantically behind me to find the young girl Thomas had originally targeted, but she was either unconscious or dead. And I left her for death to go help Simon.
As I rushed across the golden floorboards to my friend, I looked around the room for a weapon. Shaking my head, I could only find a few scooters and dodge-balls lining the plain walls. However, I didn't have the time or patience to search for something in the storage closet, so I decided I would just have to use my hands. After all, what kind of demon hunter uses a scooter to kill? However, I would later learn everything and anything could be a weapon. Valentine hadn't mentioned that. Nevertheless, I was sure at the time that I could do a better job weaponless than I would with the objects available in close vicinity. Faintly, in the back of my mind, I heard other children complaining that I was crossing the line that marked their team's side of the court, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Sweat had began to drip down the back of my neck from my effort and nerves as I attempted to come up with a strategy to murder the demon. But what did I know? I'd never had any physical lessons on this or anything; I wasn't even sure if I knew how to throw a punch correctly! Without breaking my thumb, that is.
And somehow, with that being said, I marched right up to the demon/Thomas and did what I was I made to do: kill evil.
I recall very clearly taking my right hand, the stronger of my two, and balling the tiny limb up for what it was worth. There had been no time for preparation or anything similar to that; I simply punched him squarely in the jaw. That move stunned him, to say the least, but not for long. Thomas' screaming increased, forcing my eardrums to bleed with unearthly pain; persistent, though, I did not waver in the slightest. Setting my mouth into a grim line, I reached around the taller boy's neck in an attempt to snap the vile bone, but he realized my motives and his hand shot out like snake. Capturing my wrist in a hold that was deadlier and stronger that any mundane eight-year old could have possessed, Thomas continued to twist the fragile body part until there was a sharp crackling. Caught in his iron-like hold, I had no training, and no one could even see him attacking me, for goodness sake! There was nothing I could do to stop him for injuring and possibly killing me, as well every other mundane child.
Alas, I was not every mundane child.
As soon as he relaxed his grip, even in the smallest way, I yanked my hand back from his, clutching the injury to my chest as if to protect the rest of myself from being hurt any further. I then decided that my best bet would probably be to expose the body to sunlight. I had no idea which lesson of Valentine's I had received that information from, but I was definitely grateful for it. Using this bit of knowledge in my master strategy, I faintly recalled that the gym had a huge skylight that shown just above myself, Thomas, and Simon. The thin glass had been darkened so that the sun didn't show very well to avoid sunburns and such; just the demon's luck, but not for long. I snatched the closest object to me in a fit of recklessness and desperation, slinging the light mass (a random dodge-ball that had been resting near my feet) toward the faint, shaded sunlight drifting through the glass.
In a strangely beautiful and unique cascade, the shards of murky glass flew down from above, forcing the inevitable stream of sunlight to protrude out of the jagged hole in the ceiling. I had whipped my head around anxiously to see if the demon truly was terrified of the light, and I was rewarded with a magnificent sight of the demon curling in on itself and disappearing almost instantly. My face obviously lit up in a bright smile-I had just saved everyones' lives-but I soon found my relief to be short lived. Standing behind me, with his arms folded over his chest and a highly disapproving frown planted on his face, was none other than my gym teacher. I glanced around nervously, realizing that several of my peers had been cut by the falling window, and all the children were staring at me as if I were insane. For all they knew, I was.
After that, there was a quite a lot of questioning as to whether I was insane or not-of course that's how I seemed to mundanes. By miracle, though, Mom managed to convince everyone the entire incident was an enormous misunderstanding. Later that day, around four or five, Mom and I were packing up our old apartment and preparing to move for the second time. Simon lived in the next door apartment, so we said our goodbyes in person and devised a plan to stay in touch. Every night, we vowed to sneak in at least an hour or two talking, emailing,or (later on) FaceTime or texting. We were always together, even though most of the time we were literally on separate sides of the earth.
Once we left, Mom explained that she had never seen a shadow-hunter at that young of an age, without training, nonetheless, battle a demon with such intelligence. I told her it was all due to my endless studying brought upon by Valentine, not that I enjoyed giving Valentine any credit. Mom didn't like that, either, but she did promise that with that much knowledge should also come some strength. From that point on, we practiced every day. I improved at rapid speed, so much so I believed Jonathan and I were equal. I wasn't one of the best in the world; I was the best.
Over the next few years, I found that since I had gotten so much publicity over my different sightings with demons when I was young, Mom and I were more easy to track down by Valentine's minions. In an effort to protect me, she taught me how to fight without any assistance from a fellow shadow-hunter and took me out with her demon hunting. In fact, I was taught even rougher than most, Mom explained to me. Almost every day (up until I was about fourteen) we would face off a strong and powerful demon. We had to constantly move around in an effort to stop their attacks. They could never take us, though: we were invincible. This also had to do with the fact that as I dug deeper into the Shadow World, I found that I could create new runes, as well as old ones that had not been written down. I had a theory that an angel in Heaven would send me my runes, as well as information I needed, but I couldn't be sure. It simply a theory.
When I was just turning fourteen, Mom sent me to the London Institute. Without her. She told me the action broke her heart-I believed her-but she was positive that if I were away from her I wouldn't have as many attacks to face. I hated both the cause and the effect. I still fought demons in London when they found me, but I soon found my life dry without a demon every night. I was so used to the routine, an entire day without demons felt wrong. Inevitably, I began to search demons out and kill them. Of course I never told Mom, but then again, she never really asked. Now, Simon, on the other hand did-all the time, actually-so I told him. Everything. And he was always supportive, always there for me. He truly was my best friend.
As time went on, I moved on with it. By the time I turned seventeen, I was pro at the entire routine. I traveled around the world, going from France to China to Germany (I learned the languages as I went). I never bought plane tickets; I simply created a portal and went to my desired destination. I also went straight to an institute-always-so I wouldn't have to worry about paying rent. I would often lie, pretending I was some other registered shadow-hunter so Mom wouldn't be questioned or found. After all, for all the Clave knew, I was nonexistent.
And let's face it-the Clave knows absolutely nothing.
Hey, people, you like the ending? Well, it get better! So, read the next chapter and find out what lays in store for you! XOXO- SoccerDancer63