Chapter 5

I sat motionlessly on the edge of my bed calmly watching my father pace affront of me, my eyes watching his trek across my bedroom floor wondering if it was possible to burn a track across my floor. If so I wish he would do it elsewhere. I don't think a lone burn track on my floor will doing anything positive to the décor of my bedroom, and I like my bedroom just the way it is. I inhale the aroma of fresh herbs and different types of flowers the dominated the room since I left the Conservatory door open before exhaling that aroma in a show of impatience. My grandmother mirror that unnecessary sigh but in a more show of exasperation. She was leaning once again against my bedroom door. She sent me a quirk of her lips before looking at my father and rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. I remember my mother rolling her eyes behind my father's back when he was like this; working himself up over nothing but it was more in irritation than anything. I kind of like the difference between the two actions. I perked up when I heard my father start to speak.

"Okay…okay. Desi-oh I can't start there…we are…your grandmother and I…Damnit! I don't know where to start!" my father exclaimed in frustration after stumbling over his words.

"The beginning is a great way to start, dear." My grandmother spoke up sarcastically with amusement shinning in her eyes as my father shot her a glare for her input.

My father sigh before looking at me with reluctance before speaking again after a moment when I looked at him expectantly unwilling for him to back out on this long overdue discussion.

"My father was a Shadowhunter as was I before I retire, and your grandmother if it wasn't obvious by the not so subtle hints is a warlock." My father said bluntly throwing a scowl at his mother openly who only look back at him unaffected.

"Shadowhunter?" I question first since warlock is a term I heard before.

The voices was once again silent again but I felt their presence. I disregard them in order to listen to my father clearly.

"Okay…now how am I'm going to explain this one?" My father question himself his face scrunch up concentration.

My grandmother openly let out a loud sigh and roll her eyes at her son before instructing him on what to do.

"Tell her the same thing your father and I told you when you were young and curious." She told him before narrowing her eyes at him. "And don't sugar coat the story. I knew what you were trying to do."

My father scowl at her once again but nodded in agreement before turning to me with a tire grin. I tilted my head at him wondering how much of a heavy burden my father have on his shoulders that he is unwilling going to put on mine's. My father's lips quirk a little at my action making his smile a bit bigger, but the smile was soon gone. His face suddenly went hard and emotionless when he started to speak.

"A thousand years ago and Angel names Raziel mixed his blood with the blood of man to create a race called Nephilim. Nephilim are generally human-angel hybrids that were made to protect the man, the protect the mundane; which are people like your mother who don't have any kind of blood that is significant enough to be able to see the creatures that walk among them, and also to see their protectors. Shadowhunters are never seen by the mundanes but there nevertheless." My father pause to sit heavily on the lone chair by the fireplace with an equally heavy sigh before speaking. "Like mundane cops Shadowhunters obey the laws set out before them which to us is called the Gray Book."

"Gray Book?" I asked to encourage him to continue when he pause again.

My father nodded at me before taking the glass of alcohol from his mother with a mumble of grateful words which she took with a small smile and a light pat of his cheek before leaning against the fireplace.

"The Gray Book was given to the Shadowhunters by the angels. There is a few laws that one have to follow but the two main laws is to protect the world from demons that run rabid over the world destroying everything in their path- " my father was cut off by his mother who was glaring at the carpet as she spoke not caring that she cut off her son.

"Demons." She hissed the word make it sound like the foulest curse in the world. Her face scrunch up in disgust by the very word she uttered. "Disgusting creatures. Should be wipe off the planet, and not be able to ruin the reputation of us civil half-demons by association any longer."

She uttered more words which look like a rant by her arm movements and the strong contempt on her face, but I wasn't paying much attention to listen to her words since the voices decided to talk to me once again.

Demons- Was the only word they spoke their voices fill with an almost equal amount of disgust as my grandmother. I found myself having a glimpse of the creature that was attacking the girl Clary Fray that I had the unfortunate to see. I nodded my head in agreement to my grandmother. Demons are unappealing creatures. The shout of my father calling his mother brought me out of my thoughts to find my father looking at my grandmother irritated as his mother breathe deeply as she tried to regain her composure once again. I felt brief moment of amusement that threaten for me to laugh at their antics, but I held it in until that moment of amusement went away. I watch as my father roll his eyes this time at his mother before turning to me.

"Now, where was I. Oh, the other main law is to keep the peace among the Downworlders which consist of the warlocks, vampires, fairies, and the werewolves. As you know your grandmother is a Downworlder, a warlock and that is why our heritage is different from others." My father explain the last bit mutter as well as the snide mention that the word different should be replaced with the word fuck up.

My grandmother throw him a glare as he took a swig of his glass scrunching his nose at the beverage. My father was more a beer man than wine. I look at my grandmother as I heard the sound of my name come from her lips.

"Deanerys, dear. Our heritage is a little odd compare to others of our world…" She trailed off hesitant before she took a seat next to me on the bed. She patted my knee before she spoke. "How about I start from the beginning, dearie. Warlocks are the immortal children of mundanes and demons. They call us Lilith's children…lovely name, isn't it?" She asked sarcastically causing my father to snort in amusement. "We are known to cast magic because of the demon blood running through our veins, unlike those vamps and werewolves who are merely infected by a demonic diseases. What separates a warlock from another warlock is the inhuman body parts which is called a demon's mark. It could be anything from bat wings to cat eyes. Some even have different colored skin."

She pause in her lecture to gather her thoughts just in right time to asked my question I gather throughout the talked, I didn't think it was polite to interrupt her before.

"Grandmother…the demon's mark. What are yours?" I question I look at my father another question brought to mind when I saw his face. "And what are yours?"

They looked at me for a moment the silence once in my life getting to me. Making me feel the annoyance of their hesitation as my curiosity was getting the best of me since the voices went back to be silent once again. My grandmother sigh as she lifted up her long sleeves at of out her way. She placed her hands in mine which I grasp lightly. Her hands were palm up, and she instructed me to look at her wrists. I watch as her skin moved for a moment to my fascination to reveal eyes one in each wrist. The color was that of milky blue a sever contrast against my grandmother's warm brown eyes. I watch as the eyes looked around for a moment before disappearing.

"Incredible…" I mumbled to myself as I let go of her hands not planning for anyone to hear but going by her gentle smile my grandmother sent me she heard anyway.

I look at my father expectantly. I found myself looking forward to another demonstration of warlock's demon's mark, but my father shook his head at me.

"No child your father don't have the same traits as Warlocks. This is where are family become different from others. Warlocks are unable to have children unfortunately. The outcome is always the same…stillborn…" she trailed off with a glazed look in her eyes.

I look at my father feeling uncomfortable as I easily read in the blanks. My grandmother had a stillborn before by the pain look that flash through her eyes before she hid it. My father in all sense was a miracle child. My father frown in concern at his mother calling her name worriedly. It took a few times before she answer.

"Oh, sorry dear I was just lost in my memories. Now, where was I? Yes, warlock are unable to conceive since we are crossbreed are known as sterile creatures. There haven't been a newborn of a marked Shadowhunter and Demon hybrid in history until your father. He is the first crossbreed of a Shadowhunter and a half-demon." She said softly before taking a breath. She looked at me with affection and wonder for moment after she gave the same gaze to my father who shifted in discomfort. "And you my dear is the very first child born with a blood of a Shadowhunter, a half-demon, and a mundane. When I heard of your birth I fear that your mother's blood will over power your father's, or that you will result in a stillborn because of the unique circumstances of your father's. But…But…" She trailed off gabbing my hands in her's in a tight grip and kissed my cheek in obvious fondness. I felt myself flush at the action feeling uncomfortable more so than my father when he shows his affection, but I force myself to regain my composure as she started to talk again. "But you, dear is a much miracle as your father properly more so. You with the unique blood has the ability of a Shadowhunter and the power of a warlock despite your mundane blood. You have such a gifts…you're a wonderment my child and have such greatness ahead of you."

I nodded at her as she let go of my hands and let my father take my attention. His face was just a serious as before as he look at me for a moment. He let out sigh at my unwavering gaze before giving me a wary smile.

"As you known from the eavesdropping you did poorly I might add. " He pause here to look at my face, but I just tilted my head at him nonplussed. He sigh with a wiry smile before continuing. "There is a war coming along. We fear that Valentine is once again going after the Mortal Instruments." He said with a sneer when he said Valentine's name.

It seems my father has a personal vendetta against him. I tried to gather my thoughts as the voices begin to become restless by the very name that my father just spat with enough disdain and anger that even I felt. 'Do calm down. Who is this Valentine that got you so restless?' I asked them blocking out my family member's presence. There was silence from them once again and I felt strong feel of aggravation before calming myself down. 'Speak to me!' I commanded and after a long dreadful moment they began to speak…at once. I grabbed my head in pain as their voices fuse together getting so loud that I shouted at them in my mind just to get them to stop. 'Stop! I can't hear what you are saying when you are like this!' They automatically went silent for a moment before a voice decided to step forward in telling me their knowledge. Valentine…Mortal Cup is missing. He must not get it! That was all they say before going silent. I open my eyes to find my grandmother looking at me with blank face. It seems that I got the ability to not show any emotions on my face from her. As for my father he seem to be on the edge of his seat as if he was ready to jump into action at the first notice if possible with concern in his eyes as he look at me. A silent question was also in his eyes, and I nodded at him to show that I was fine. I shook off the headache and the static feel I have in my ears that I got from the voices when they all raise their volume of voice.

"The Mortal Cup…it's missing, isn't it?" I said meaning it more in a fact than a question.

My grandmother nodded her blank face harden but didn't give away her emotions as if she wasn't even feeling any at all. My father nodded to me from his stiff form on the chair.

"Yes. It is sever slight against the Silent Brothers." My father said with humorless snort.

"Silent Brothers?" I asked once in my life feeling confuse.

This emotion made me irritated. I glare at the carpet as I sneer at the voices only some hissed at my jibes and others laugh at my irritation as if it was the most amusing thing they ever felt from me which isn't much I admit.

"The Silent Brothers are the people who watch over the Mortal Instruments which is the three divine object that Raziel left to the Shadowhunters. There is a sword, a mirror, and lastly the cup. For thousands of years we have protected these instrument, but Valentine-"My father spit his name out once again before taking a breath to calm down. He look at me with so much conflicting emotions it was hard to tell what he was feeling. "-betrayed us all. He started the Uprising that almost tore the shadowhunter world apart! So many shadowhunters perished because of this war…including your grandfather who trusted Valentine as my father was his mentor and thought of him as if the sun shine out of his ass."

My father huff angrily before taking another swing of his glass of alcohol. His face once again scrunch up in disgust before he excuse himself to the kitchen. To get a beer, I bet. Properly the ones we brought along from our trip to New York. I sigh to myself it seem to have more questions than answers once again, but I don't think my father is going be most forthcoming as well as my grandmother as the look of things.

"Deanerys…." My grandmother spoke softly catching my attention. I look at her but she was staring at the fire we lit up sometime during our discussion. "I know you feel if we didn't give you enough answers as you might like. I know the voices usually tell you every little details, no doubt, and I'm sure they are unusually tight lipped now a days." I huff at that understatement. She gave me a wary grin before continuing. "So you're not use to having so many secrets you don't know of, but you must know that is all we could tell you. You properly wondering about your gifts. Why you hear voices in your head, or be able to see into the future-"I perked up in curiosity. So I am able to see into the future then. My grandmother notice my expression and her lips quirk up in a small smile not as small as my Mona Lisa like smile, but a small smile for her nevertheless. She patted my knee. "Yes, child that wasn't a dream but a vision. Not like Warlocks who can feel what to come. You see the future by outside forces that are not your own intention that is unlike any other being in our world as well as the ability to hear voices. Those are your own gifts and your father and I can't answer all your questions on those matters, because this is your journey not ours. But know this your father and I will help you as best as our abilities."

"Could you tell me more about Shadowhunter or the Downworlders?"

She chuckled shaking her head.

"No, I think you need to find out for yourself on those matters, dear. Remember this is your journey not ours. Don't get me wrong we will not let you enter this world blind, but we don't want to take all of the surprises away." She said amusement lace in her voice. She lifted herself up to her feet with the help of my knee turning to face me after she settle herself on her feet. "Valentine is not dead as people will like to think. No, he is alive and after the Mortal Instruments once again with his forsaken warriors he like to accompany himself with. He bring war to us once again. This war…" she trailed off her eyes harden as she look at me. "…will make you question yourself. Make you do horrid acts to others who will hate you, and you will have to deal with their hatred for you as best of your ability. You must, or the guilt will weigh you down for hurting another by taking their love one or just in general taking a life. But that is the life of a warrior or in your case a Shadowhunter. Pain, hatred, anguish, guilt. It is not pretty. War is never pretty no matter how much one will wrap it up in beautiful words of what they are fighting for like freedom, rights, peace. No, they are wrong. This war will change you… if possible destroy you. But it is at our doorstep and woven into your destiny, and we can't ignore it as much as your father would like to."

She sigh to herself sadly as I tried to wrap myself in terms on what to come. War…is it possible for me to even feel those emotions she mention? Will it change me…destroy me in every way possible? I imagine those veterans that come back home after experiencing war and death. They seem like hollow shell there in presence, but in the war in mind and spirit. Forever in that war. They were never the same every one of them. Will that be me one day? No. No, I will not let it. I look at my grandmother feeling determination for once. She saw my determination and gave me a smirk that will normally frighten others.

"What now?" I asked.

"Now, we train you." A voice said gruffly.

I look to find my father leaning against my doorframe with a bottle of beer in his hand and grimace on his face. He took a swing of his beer before talking to me.

"You might be my daughter but I will not go easy on you, and I expect your grandmother will do the same. I will not lose you in this damn war. Since I can't hide you away I will drilled into you in the ways of fight…how to kill…how to survive." He gave another toss of his drink letting out a sigh in satisfaction after he swallow the beer. He gestured to me with his beer before he spoke. "So I expect you try your best."

I nodded at him grimly wondering what my father and grandmother training will be like. My father's lips went into a dark smirk almost like his mother's, but it was lacking the malicious feel to it that my grandmother can achieve.

"Valentine won't know what hit him." My father mumbled to himself.

I nodded feeling my own smirk come to my face. It didn't feel as foreign as a smile did…It almost came naturally.