Chapter 1:
A/N: Hello :D, I'm back! So…yah…I'll get on with the story now. And…a treat for reading but NOT REVIEWING! (except for bookgroupie ;))
City of Lost Souls spoiler:
"Warlock," he said. "I know who you are."
Magnus raised his eyebrows. "You do?"
"Magnus Bane. Destroyer of the demon Marabas. Son of—"
"Now," said Magnus, quickly. "There's no need to go into all of that."
"But there is." The demon sounded reasonable, even amused. "If it is infernal assistance you require, why not summon your father?"
Alec looked at Magnus with his mouth open.
Chapter 1:
Clarissa Morgenstern woke, luminous green eyes flying open as they frantically searched the room for anything provoking her. She turned, gasping in pain as she put pressure to a wound she had acquired two days ago, a cracked rib. Her hands scrambled around, searching for her covers and pulling them close around her, trying to protect herself from whatever was attacking her—fear and guilt.
It has been nine years, she thought. Nine years since they—they died.
Her throat closed around the word, her mind and body unwilling to accept the fact. Tears threatened to spill as waves of memories and emotions crashed over her, drowning her in their depths.
*Flashback*
Seven-year-old Clary Fairchild lay behind the sofa, pressing her ear to the back of the furniture, trying to catch the conversation her mother, Jocelyn, was having with a man.
He was frightening; tall and muscular, he seemed in his mid-thirties, with platinum blonde hair streaked with lines of grey, coal-black eyes piercing her soul when he chanced a glance at her, seeing her deepest, darkest secrets as if they were laid bare to the world.
"…I am her legal guardian and her parent, do you not think that I have a right to take care of her?" she caught her mother say in her "angry voice".
Jocelyn's "angry voice" was not loud. In fact, it was very soft, the words spoken softly, but shaking with hidden rage; formidable, a warning to all who knew her.
When Clary's mother last used that tone two years ago, Clary had taken two ten-dollar bills, shredded them to bits and threw them into the air, shrieking in her girlish innocence, "Look Mommy! It's raining money!" Clary hadn't been allowed to go to Simon's or watch any anime for an entire week.
A deep, growling voice answered in turn, obviously masculine and belonging to Scary Man. "Of course you're her legal guardian Jocelyn, but I do sincerely think that she would be in safer hands if she were to live with me."
Who are they talking about? Clary wondered, and, judging from their reactions, instinctively knew that this would not end well.
"What do you mean, in safer hands? What matters is that she is happy, and she is happy here!" Clary's mother shouted, losing the last shred of her tenacious control.
Clary's eyes widened in shock; her mother never raised her voice. Ever. She heard footsteps coming closer to her hiding place, paralyzing her with fear and rooting her to her chosen hiding spot. Shifting slightly, she moved her head to peer through the space between the couch and the ground, head cocked at an uncomfortable angle.
"Now, now, Jocelyn, there is no need to raise your voice," Scary Man stated casually, as if it were a regular conversation over the weather. "I do not deny that she is happy, but will she be happy in the future? After all, I do believe that you are financially struggling."
Clary, now kneeling, squinted through the small hole in the sofa. The Scary Man knew, she saw, that he had struck a nerve and a smirk twisted his features as fury clouded Jocelyn's eyes like a rolling storm.
"How—how dare you!" shrieked Jocelyn. "You are never going to take Clary away from me! Go, get off of my property now, and don't you dare return! Get out, now!"
Oh, Clary thought. They're talking about me. I don't want Scary Man to take me away! I love Mommy and Daddy Luke."
Clary's mother pushed Scary Man as hard as she could, away from her and away from the sofa, but he only stumbled a couple of steps, regaining his balance with practiced ease, pulling out a large item from his coat, the object glinting with a metallic menace.
BANG!
Clary froze in absolute horror. He has a gun, she thought, the only thing repeating in her mind as her mother gasped in pain, her willowy frame slumping to the floor, the carpet turning a deep crimson. Tears streamed down Clary's face, but she did dare not make a sound, the man's dark legs stepping across her fallen mother, a great weight suddenly letting itself be known as it took root across her shoulders. It hurt so much, her heart chopped into little pieces, like someone had grabbed a sword and slashed it to bits.
Just then, she heard the front door lock turning and Luke's warm voice calling, "Clary! Jocelyn! I'm home!"
No, no, not Luke too, Clary sobbed in her head, daring to peek around the side of the sofa, in hope of getting a better view and a chance to warn kind-hearted man.
"Clary? Jocel—" He was interrupted as he turned the corner, frozen by shock as he saw the bloody body of Jocelyn, a hole through her heart, the gore soaking the white carpet. Eyes moving through the room with a cold rage unknown to Clary, he stopped at the appearance of Scary Man. He was reclining respectfully on the splattered chair, gun trained lazily on the other man as the latter moved to storm forward. An echoing bang rang in Clary's ears, her father figure crashing forward, landing mere meters from Jocelyn's silent body.
Clary turned her head away from the horrendous sight, involuntarily letting out a whimper and sniffle as she sobbed relentlessly. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think that this was all a dream, that this was all a dream...
Scary Man, obviously hearing the mournful whimper, twisted, lips forming a cruel grin as he, almost playfully, whispered, "Come out, come out! I promise I won't hurt you!"
He stalked over to where he had heard the noise, finding the diminutive form of Clary, crouched behind the sofa, flaming hair covering her face. But, before he could register anything, Clary lifted her head up and spat as hard as she could into Scary Man's face.
Surprised by the girl's daring, the Scary Man stepped back, wiping the spittle from his chin, but now clearly angry with the child, grabbed her arms, wrenching them painfully above her. Crying out, the girl squirmed in his grasp, and cried out, lashing at his cheek.
His head whipped back but his grip did not loosen, only tightened, as he dragged her from her home, shoving her into his car, taking her from her only home, from the remains of her childhood. They won't be coming back, she thought, and it's my fault.
*End Flashback*
Clarissa released her hold on the covers, sighing as the tears dripped down her face, forming dark splotches on the blankets.
"Clarissa! You get your lazy ass down here this instant!" she heard Valentine shout. "We're expecting company today in twenty minutes!"
She refused to accept him as her father; he did not deserve that title. Luke did. Don't think about them, she told herself, drying her tears as she dressed quickly, a quarter sleeve shirt and Bermuda's to hide her bruises and scars. She always got awkward glances at school, but she used the excuse that she got cold easily. It wasn't so bad since they lived in Los Angeles, California, but on the warmer days, she suffered.
Puttingon some light concealer and taming her unruly hair, she hurried down the stairs before Valentine could get any angrier than he already was. Of course, Jonathan was there, sitting at the pristine table like the good little boy he was; always his father's son. He was obviously going down his father's path, extremely cruel, but a rich lawyer with immense power in the city.
Clary gulped down her cereal, finishing just minutes before the doorbell rang. A short, squat, balding man that hid his girth under expensive business clothing, carrying a leather suitcase, grey, expressionless eyes taking in his surroundings, in a seemingly disinterested way, as if forced to be here entered the mansion.
Valentine greeted him heartily, clasping his arm warmly, and as they discussed his business matters, Clary sat patiently at the table to serve cookies and coffee at a moment's notice. However, when the man asked for a refill, she accidentally bumped her elbow on his chair, sending the steaming liquid flying, scalding the man's wrist and staining a better part of his suit. She clamped her hands over her mouth, cowering as both men thundered to their feet.
"Look at what you've done! Do you know how much this suit cost me! Two thousand dollars, do you hear me? Two thousand!" the short man bellowed, face coloring like a tea kettle.
Clary stammered out useless apologies, truly sorry, but not for the man, but for the fact that she had ruined another one of Valentine's meetings, knowing that it would result in a severe punishment. After the man left, Valentine advanced upon her. "How." Strike. "Dare." Slap. "You." Punch.
Clary doubled over, gasping in pain, gulping in copious amounts of air. Great, she thought. A new collection of three new bruises, more cuts across my face, and probably another cracked rib.
"You pathetic little whore. You're just like your mother; pathetic and unable to do anything." Valentine spat. He shoved her, hard, pushing her to the floor and spun away on his heel, walking away as if it happened every day, which it did. Jonathan followed him like a puppy, rushing to catch up.
As Clary lay there on the floor, wheezing, she thought as she raged, I do think, that it's time, to leave.
A/N: Okay guys, how was it? Wow, pretty long with 1,700 words. Whatever. REVIEW! Please? It would make me very happy…
THANK YOU MY AWESOME BETA I-Sold-My-Soul-For-A-Cookie!