Never owned, never have owned, never will own. :(

Also I'm currently looking for someone to Beta this story. I'd like it if they could find the spelling and grammatical errors I might have missed and is willing to give advice about how this story is going to go. If you're interested please PM me.

Clary knew she was on horseback, in front of the rider,and that the horse was galloping through the forests that sheltered the Down-worlder's resistance. That was it. She had no idea how many days she'd been asleep, what drug they used on her or where Isabelle was. She would admit it- she was terrified, but she was still under the drug's haze and whatever they'd dosed her with it seem to suppress emotions. She felt sleepy and for a moment she almost left herself slip into unconsciousness, but jolted herself awake with the simple horrifying idea that she had no way of knowing where she was, who had captured her or how in the hell she would get Izzy and herself out of this mess.

Suddenly she felt the rider sit back and the horse rapidly draw itself to a halt. She looking down she just realized that her hands were tied behind her back and there was a rope around her waist binding her to the saddle.

Roughly, the man (definitely a man thought Clary as she noticed his beard. ) untied Clary from the saddle and roughly pulled her down and quickly dumped her on the ground like she was filthy trash he wanted touch and dispose of ASAP. Clary looked up quickly and saw that the man must have been a werewolf. He defiantly had battle marks as if he'd fought as a wolf that had taken several chunks out of him, leaving him with pocket marks all over.

Then Clary realized with a sickening jolt that this wolf-man, might not just murder her quickly but use her as an example and torture her till her body and mind gave out. It wasn't uncommon for around every two months, a body to show up in Alicante, marred beyond recognition. It had been one of her worst nightmares. Of course the ones tortured into insanity where sometimes worst off than the bodies. Most of them were so lost, they didn't know who they were or even if it was night or day.

Then she heard the crunch of a boot on twigs and was able to see a completely average man step out, into the clearing. The man's voice was rough and low, but Clary could still hear strands of their conversation.

"- The Lightwood girl could be held for a nice little ransom, but the other one, Valentine's daughter, the resistance would pay a handsome price for that one… but Valentine might just be willing to pay more. Perhaps we could make it a bid?" the average man hissed.

"Hmm… I was originally planning to hold them both for ransom, but you bring up a good point. The resistance would pay a good price for her. In fact several Down-worlders would… I know Camille Belcourt would give anything to get her hands on a Morgenstern." The other growled.

The other nodded quickly.

"Contact as many as you can… I need to find a place to stash this little jewel." He said motioning to Clary.

"Don't hurt her. Remember, Anthony, most Downworlder's want to do the damage themselves."

"Of course, Jamal." Anthony flashed a smile that was more like a snarl than anything else. "We wouldn't want to lose any money would we? "He let out a harsh laugh before picking Clary up, flinging her over the saddle before he mounted the horse and dug his heels into the horse's flanks.

For what felt like hours they galloped through the forest, moving at a rapid pace. When Anthony finally stopped it was in front of a tiny rough wood cabin.

Calmly picking Clary up, like she was a sack of potatoes he strode into the cabin and promptly dropped her in the right back corner on the dirt floor. The cabin was even smaller on the inside and had rough furniture all made out of wood. There was a big fireplace with a big black pot hang over it. Right in front of the fire place was a tiny wooden table with two chairs on either side.

The left wall was bare except for a doorway with a curtain hanging from the top.

"Aubrey!" Anthony barked and Clary saw a thin woman with curly black hair, sallow skin, and huge onyx eyes that matched the dark bags under them, emerging from the behind the curtain.

She calmly glanced at Clary as if she was used to seeing, tied up people sitting in a corner of her cabin, and had long ago resigned herself from having any emotions about them.

"Yes?" she asked in an unattached, dispassionate voice.

"This," Anthony said sweeping his hand at Clary "Is Clarissa Morgenstern, and she, my darling, is going to make us rich beyond our wildest dreams."

"Ah." Aubrey said as if she'd had him tell her that over a million times and was just playing along to get him out.

"Aubrey, dear if you could just make sure she eats and drinks and is alive and healthy for about a month and then doll, you and I, we're rich.

Aubrey just nodded.

"Well," Anthony said awkwardly "I'll be negotiating her price. I'll be back with the money soon though." He yelled as he walked out the door.

After the horse's hoof beat's faded Aubrey let out a low long sigh.

"If I had a dollar for every time he said that," She said under her breath.

After that Clary's life fell into routine.

Be spoon-fed breakfast, count number of logs used to build the cabin, let her mind wander aimlessly for a while, be taken to bathroom, wonder about Izzy, think about her mother, think about her future, nap, hopefully be fed dinner, and try to sleep. Aubrey never said a word to her and Clary wasn't sure she should talk to Aubrey.

Clary tried to count the days she really did, but after thirty she lost count.

But it all changed on what Clary thought was day fifty two,(It was really only day forty-seven.)

It really started at noon when Anthony burst in, being followed closely by a warlock with yellow-green eyes, surrounded by glittery purple eye liner and who looked partially Asian and a man in a dirty flannel coat. They were polar opposites. The warlock looked young, pouring out life, vitally and energy. The man on the other hand seemed to be sad, faraway distant, like he was about to do a chore he didn't want to do. Or at least he seemed to until he saw her. Then he started up and looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Jocelyn?" He asked shocked. "Why are you here? I thought you were ill!"

Clary started at him. Who in the hell was he? How did he know her mother?

"Who are you?" She whispered.

The man blinked. The warlock turned to the man and hissed coldly, "You promised Valentine's child! Why in the hell is his wife here?"

"It's not his wife! It's his daughter! She just looks like her mother!" Anthony cried desperately, obviously scared shitless.

"Excuse me! But who are you?" Clary asked trying to keep her voice as steady as she could.

The man blinked. "I am Lucian Graymark and this is Magnus Bane." He muttered, giving a halfhearted gesture to the warlock.

"Greetings," Magnus said flatly, his voice ice.

Clarissa was shocked. Everyone had heard of the two masterminds behind the Resistance. Valentine despised both with a passion.

The first time Clary had ever seen him truly and utterly burning with rage was when she was eight. He tore through the house, like a mad thing, throwing things over, wrecking paintings, even the master pieces that Jocelyn had put months on end of her time into, roaring at the servants, and cursing the names, of the traitor werewolf, Lucian Graymark, and the abomination of a warlock, Magnus Bane.

Terrified Clary shrunk into the corner, staring at the man who she had always thought had ridged control of himself.

Looking up at the huge winding granite staircase she had seen Jace and Jonathan, staring wide eyed at their father.

When Valentine had finally composed himself enough he ordered a Circle meeting. Everyone must attend he added in a scary growl that didn't take no for an answer.

For the first time in years Valentine Morgenstern had been made a fool, by his traitor of a friend and a gay warlock too.

To say Valentine had a vendetta against them was an understatement. He was convinced that the vampire attack was from them and would do anything in his power to punish them. Now they had his daughter as well.

Clary was brought back by Anthony trying to barter with Magnus. Lucian was just standing there.

"What do you intend to do with me?" Clary asked him, trying to sound brave.

The were-wolf looked down at her and a ghost of a smile flickered on to his tired face.

"For now I intend to get you some where you don't have people bartering over you."

And with that he swung her on to a horse's back, before mounting his own. Clary could see Magnus shoving a wad of money into Anthony had before he got on to his own horse.

As they were riding away, Clary heard Anthony exclaim "Aubrey, we're rich! Three hundred dollars for that one!"

Aubrey sighed a low long sad sigh before responding "It's thirty dollars dear."

*CTD*

Isabelle loved noise. She loved the way guys sighed when she walked down the halls of the school, loved the chatter of people when class got out. Sound was life. It proved there was something there, something real.

But recently her favorite sound had become the crack of her whip, or the sound of her dagger and the ripping sound as her cloth bag target spilt open signifying that she had competed another successful work out, another non-existing enemy defeated, another twenty minutes or so of her short life wasted, but bringing her one step closer to being out there. One more step to finding Clary, making Jace come back to life.

She had been returned home, three days after they had taken her and Clary. Her kidnappers had demanded thousands of currencies from different countries, leaving a clearing in the woods for the Shadow hunters to drop off the money. Once they were satisfied, they left a drugged, completely helpless Isabelle alone in the same spot the money had been taken from.

They had made her feel weak. She had been at their mercy, her life, in their hands. They could decide if she lived or died, if she was to remain prisoner or return to her family safe.

And she had hated every moment of it. She was a shadow hunter for God's sake, not some whimpering little girl.

Her family was in deep shit. Valentine had refused to approve the ransom, saying he would not let shadow hunter funds to aid the rebellion. Her parent had ignored this. Or more her father had convinced her mother to.

She'd woken up from her drug induced sleep in a carriage, where two guards calmly informed her of what had happened.

The moment she stepped out of the carriage, Jace was on her, demanding if she was okay, where was Clary, did she have any idea where they might have taken her? He'd continued questioning until the real questioners stepped in.

They asked the same questions. It didn't help. The entire Clave was too dumb, too stupid, from following Valentine. They were no longer warriors. They were sheep. Dull eyed, cud-chewing sheep, that couldn't do anything.

Jonathan had taken the news into account with a deadly fury. If he had hated the Clave before it was nothing compared to now.

He and I aren't so different now are we? Isabelle though bitterly. Both of us hate the Clave. But me? I'm fire. I have life, I'm alive, I'm not under Valentine's thumb. Jonathan on the other hand, is ice. Cold, a monster.

We may have common goals and similar idea's but mine are based on wanting to make my people stronger. His are for blood and his own enjoyment. He's a…sadist. That was how the English professor stated it.

To her shock she felt angry tears burn her eyes.

Wiping them away impatiently she made herself and her lost friend a promise.

Don't worry Clary, I'll find you. If it's the last thing I do I'll find you.