Okay I am trying to update as often as possible but it is getting harder and harder so I am sorry if it takes too long. Thanks to greygirl2358, Autumn Herondale and ericaherondale20 (yes all will be cleared up and revealed in the end) for reviewing. Also I'm sorry this one went off on a bit off a tangent, I was trying something new.

Summary: Clary, Jace and Seb snuck into Valentines office after hearing him mention something about a circle, they got a diary that they believe will give them answers. Luke is a gardener in their mansion, who comes over when Valentine is away.

Chapter 25

Clary and Jace wound their way down the hallway, moon at their backs, hands entwined and the diary still tucked snugly in Clary's back pocket. Eager to crack open the leather and spill the secrets of their father, they wasted no time, tiptoeing up to Seb's room and sneaking inside.

Clary stared down at Seb, passed out on the bed, his hair sticking up all over the place, one hand strewn across the bed and the other tucked under his fully clothed body. His face shone with innocence as he slept, his mouth fixed in a happy half smile and his eyelids fluttering every so often. He looked so peaceful. With a wry smile pointed at Jace, Clary shook Seb violently, getting a kick out of the small sound that escaped his lips.

Seb woke up with a jolt, his stomach spiked with shock. What was going on? Through the haze of darkness, he could just make out Clary's face, her aggressively red hair shimmering slightly in the moonlight. Behind her, he could see a dark shadow, another figure, and straining his eyes a tad, he began to make out the angelic face of his own brother. His eyes hardened with anger. "What the hell did you do that for?" he said, almost spitting the words out. "Diary time" Clary said in a high pitched sing song voice. Seb continued to look moody but, rubbing his eyes, he sat up, swinging his legs round, off the end of the bed. Clary and Jace sat down too, their backs against the oak backboard of the bedstead, Clary leaning subconsciously onto Jace's shoulder, the diary clutched between her elfin hands. Seb stretched his hands out to the left, fumbling around in the moonlight. Eventually, his hands fell upon the switch and he pressed it down, the light flickering twice before lighting up the room, batting the shadows away.

"Can you read, Jace?" Clary whispered, motioning to the book as her eyelids began to droop, sleep overtaking her in the race. "Sure" he said, prising the book from between her fingertips. As he opened the book he heard the slight crack of leather. He began to read, Clary's head tucked into the crevice of his neck, her arms tucked against his arm and legs curled up to her chest.

"The circle" Jace read his voice husky amidst the silence of darkness. The writing on the next page was all in different pen colours, the scrawl slightly different with each new name. It appeared to Jace that each name had been written in at a different time, as a new member joined. It gave the impression that the young group of misfits hadn't foresaw so many people joining because as the names neared the bottom of the list, the writing got smaller, until the last few names were barely just squashed onto the dry page.

"Members" Jace read aloud,

"Valentine Morgenstern (founder)

Luke Garroway

Jocelyn Fairchild

Stephen Herondale

Celine Montclaire

Amatis Herondale

Michael Wayland

Robert Lightwood

Maryse Trueblood

Hodge Starkweather

Samuel Blackwell

Anson Pangborn

Emil Pangborn

Malachi Dieudonne

Jia Penhallow

Patrick Penhallow

Isabelle Magdalena

Charles Freeman

Jeremy Pontmercy

David Capesseret

Aaron Animo

Lillian Bellatore

Emmett Praecursator

Ian Emmisarius

Rayan Cuttan

Orelia Lester

Avery Nigrum

Aaric Cochran

Brayden Savage

Nathaniel Lateus

Brian Skinner

Nabeela Skinner

Yara Delacruz

Cadee Ibarra"

Clary pushed herself upright "That's an awful lot of members." she said, her eyes widening. "And dad set up this group?" added Seb.

"Looks like it." Jace said.

"Maybe it was a philosophy club or something?" Clary chirped, sounding both hopeful and desperate, but Seb only scoffed. "Who are we kidding? This is sinister stuff." Seb said.

"Are you sure you want to carry on reading?" Jace asked and both Seb and Clary nodded, albeit hesitantly.

"Aims and beliefs:

1) The shadow hunters are a dying race, and if we have any hope of surviving we have to stop interbreeding, shadow hunters should not be in the presence of cross breeding.

2) The downworlders threaten our very existence; they are derived from demons and are therefore no better than the demons themselves.

3) The clave holds back shadow hunters as a race, by allowing crossbreeding and by protecting the lives of the demonic downworlders, if they cannot see to reason, they don't deserve to be in power.

4) Any shadow hunter should be prepared to give his or hers own lives for their race.

5) The mortal cup should be used to create more shadow hunters; the wellbeing of our own race comes above all other concerns."

Clary could almost feel her father's seething anger through the pages, she knew of his hatred of downworlders. As children, they had been taught about the evil and dangerous beasts with brains too small to comprehend anything over than an overpowering need to feed, these creatures who pried on the weak and the vulnerable, who would tear you apart given the chance. As young minds they were shocked to find out that the clave, the leaders of the land, were protecting these foul beasts, were allowing them to savagely kill. They couldn't understand a world where such brutal killing was openly allowed, where the rulers favored these beasts over their own race. In fact, it wasn't until Valentine started going away more, and Luke started playing a bigger role in the show of their lives, that they realized that their father didn't always tell the truth, at least not the whole truth. The day Luke told them he was a werewolf, Clary had screamed her head off for a full hour, hysterical with a fear that gripped her hard, she was inconsolable, her own mother unable to quell her tears. Her mother tried to talk to her, to undo the knot that Valentine had tied so tight with hatred and vigour, but she was unable. It wasn't until several hours later that her mother had gotten her children to come back to the crackling campfire, where Luke sat, all three of them cowering behind her legs. Luke was sat upon the log, his face written with a half smile and confusion had washed over infant Clary, how could it be? He didn't look like a monster to her? He still looked like the same Luke she had known, the same one who had picked her up and whirled her round, who had told ghost stories around the fire, who had a laugh so loud it boomed around the house. "We're not as bad as you think" was all Luke had said, and it had taken a while, but over the months that had followed, some of the damage that Valentine had done had been unraveled slightly. It was the spark that lighted the fire of her uncertainty towards her father; she didn't know how her mother put up with it. Well, she did.

She remembered that day clearly. Her father was away, she couldn't remember where, he was always somewhere and he had never taken them with him. They had stayed up late into the night, until the fireflies had gathered round, feebly lighting up small patches of the quilted night sky. Both of her brothers had drifted off into sleep, their heads cushioned by the soft grass, but she was wide awake, endlessly fascinated by the stories of Luke, by the side of her mother that she only ever saw when Luke lighting up the room. It was way past late by the time her mother had carried the boys inside to their rooms, insisting that she followed. After having tucked her brothers up safe and soundly in their little beds, her mother had taken her to her own, kissing her softly on her head before switching out the light and closing the door. But Clary still hadn't been able to sleep, it was if the stars had been calling to her, wishing for her to go bathe in their shimmering glory. She answered their call, pulling herself up to the window ledge and pressing her tiny palm against the cool glass of the window. She gazed up, wishing someday she could visit the land of the sky, and swim amongst the stars. It was the flicker of the fire that had dragged her eyes away from the marvelous masterpiece of the heavens. Looking down, she had seen two figures sat on the log where she had been, mere minutes ago. She recognized them as Luke and her own mother. They were entwined, her mother's arm wrapped around Luke's neck, her lips upon his. She didn't remember feeling any anger towards Luke or any confusion as to why they were kissing. She remembered feeling happy, happy that her mother was happy. She never told them she knew of course, but it certainly explained where she spent her days.

"Wow this is heavy." Seb announced, snapping Clary from her thoughts.

"Uh-huh" she agreed "And look: 'Jocelyn Fairchild' and 'Luke Garroway" she said, pointing to the pages. "Is that mum and Luke?"

"Yup, and isn't pangborn one of the gardeners?" stated Jace.

"Better carry on reading." Seb said, his voice layered with confusion and eagerness. But, just as he said this, as if it were an omen as to what was about to happen, the trio heard banging footsteps just outside, followed by the creaking sound of the door opening...

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