Kidnapped or Rescued?

by Sapphira Volkov

All mundane. Clary Fray is a poor girl who lives in Harlem with her mother. One night, a white-haired man comes and starts beating her mother, and says that he's her father, Valentine. Before she can process the information, a golden-haired stranger kidnaps her, to keep her safe from her newfound family, and Valentine wants her back. Can Clary save her mother? Rated T for insurance

4. Chapter 4

Hey! Look, I know I said that I wouldn't, but I'm a very impatient person, and school is ending soon, so I won't be able to post so often. I know how it feels to be waiting and waiting for a chapter to a story. So, here it is!

Clary picked her way through the trash in her house to her bedroom as Jace looked through the master bedroom. Her room was ridiculously small, with only a small cot and a closet to fill the space. Still, everywhere on the walls, there were pictures that Clary had drawn, painted, or sketched. Or, at least, there had been. Every one of the papers, as well as her clothes, had been shredded and strewn across the floor. Clary drew in a slow, shuddering breath, then turned away. She couldn't look. At that moment, there was a low growl from inside the room. Clary half turned, and a huge German Shepherd, easily five feet tall at the ears, came out of her closet. The dog growled, then it leaped at her. She screamed as it pinned her down, growling and snapping, then it jerked and fell, blood pooling around it. Jace stood over her, a bloody knife in hand, breathing hard. He glanced around and cautiously helped her to her feet.

"Are there any more?" Clary shook her head, still trembling. Jace picked her up, obviously not trusting her to keep herself upright, and carried her to the foyer. As he put her down, they heard a gravelly voice chuckle.

"Where have you been, child?" Clary whirled toward the door to see Dorothea, the landlady, standing in the doorway. "I've been worried sick." Clary smiled slightly.

"Dorothea. Have you seen my mother?" Dorothea's face changed, and the smile slid off Clary's face. "She's gone, isn't she." The woman nodded. "Do you know where to?" The landlady sighed.

"You'd better come with me." She showed them into her house, which was right next to Clary's, and gestured for Clary and Jace to sit. Her house was cozy and comfortable, with a sign that said Madame Dorothea, Seeress and Prophetess on the door. "Now, then. I'll tell you your mother's story. She told me this when she first moved here. You were a little baby then, Clary. Just born. It all began when she was in school..."

The next one is really long. It'll make up for this sucky short one.