Up until now, I had no idea where this story was going. But I sat down, planned it all out, and now have a definite plot, so you can expect more regular updates. Probably about once a week. It's quite different from what I originally expected, so I've modified the summaries. Thanks for all the positive reviews and suggestions! It's helped more than I can say.

I've been reading COHF snippets and I'm so impatient for the book. How on earth are we meant to wait until the end of May?

Disclaimer: Owning this would be but a blissful dream. I don't live in that dream world, however much I would like to. All belongs to Cassandra Clare.

Clary sighed. Homework, as always, was calling. She sat at her desk, peppered with heavy lead pencils and creamy art paper.

Shock had made itself comfortable on the dark alleyway. And left an awkwardness in its place. The other Shadowhunters hadn't spoken to her in nearly a week, unless you count hi, good to see you and bye as a decent conversation. The thought of your friend's brother killing you, but leaving her intact probably wasn't great for a friendship- or otherwise. Jace was almost ignoring her.

Almost, but not quite, because they'd been paired up to work on an out of school project that she was meant to be going to the Institute to work on. Almost, but not quite, because she caught him glancing at her occasionally at school. It seemed that everyone had battling emotions- so until then they would just leave Clary out in the cold.

She understood why they were avoiding her.

She hated that she understood why they were avoiding her.

It was the straw the broke the camel's back- the one that brought it to it's knees in agony. Jonathan was trying to kill them, but leave her untouched? After wayward runes, accusations and supposed betrayals, it was no wonder that this would finish it all off.

The unmistakable wind of a portal swept through Clary's hair. She spun around and came face to face with the swirling depths. Only a warlock would have the power to make one- so why bother coming to her?

A shape emerged from the depths. A familiar shape.

A bad kind of familiar.

"Jonathan?"

He grinned, the paleness of his skin making his teeth look even whiter. Menace shone in their father's dark eyes that were set into Jonathan's face, and Clary shivered. That kind of cruelty didn't come with a conscience. It couldn't.

"Miss me, little sis?"

She tried to walk backwards slowly, undetected. There were a few seraph blades in the drawer of her desk. Just a few inches...

A blur moved past Clary's eyes, and she found someone at her back restraining her hands. The hard pressure on her wrists reminded her that while she was a pretty good Shadowhunter, Jonathan was much better.

"Can't have you getting away, can we?"

Clary clamped her mouth shut. No way was she talking to him. She tried to plan her way out of this. Her stele was by her art book in her desk. Her seraph blades were in her desk, and help was too far away. She felt the oxygen struggling to get to her lungs, making her slightly dizzy and clouding her thoughts. Was it hopeless?

"What a way to treat your own flesh and blood."

She ripped her hands out of his grip and elbowed him in the nose. Aiming a kick for his stomach, she lunged to her desk. Stele or seraph blades? A cold hand caught her arm, so she slammed a fist down on it. The portal! Clary dashed towards it and went to jump through without a destination in mind. Dangerous, but well worth the risk. Her stomach rolled as she fell towards unknown oblivion and her head spun trying to gauge the risks. All that remained was one certainty. There was no going back now.

Clary slowly peeled her eyes open, strands of red hair obscuring her vision. She brushed them aside impatiently and tried looked around but darkness engulfed her, making it impossible to see anything. Relying on her other senses to guide her, she started to stumble around in the gloom. The earth felt uneven beneath her feet and the sounds of her harsh breathing echoed back towards her. Her foot found a smooth surface that pressed down as she pushed on it.

A sharp light pierced her vision. Clary blinked rapidly, and immediately raised her hands to try and deal with any threat. None came and she soon lowered her hands to look before her. Compared to the complete darkness of the room- that Clary could now see was a cave-like chamber- the doorway was a blinding rectangle. Daring a last glance around the room she landed in, she crept out towards the hallway. It was a long hallway, one that Clary imagined you'd see in the Idris manor homes. Old fashioned, wide, with dark stained timber for floors, a rug running down its length and plain wallpaper. On the walls hung portraits and landscapes of beautiful rolling hills, and canals threading throughout stone roads and bridges. There were a few other doorways, most of the doors tightly shut. Clary tentatively walked out into the hallway, wishing for some weapons- or at least some gear. Her hair brushed lightly across her arms, sending shivers down them. She still had no idea where she was. If someone caught her…

The first open door looked to be a guest bedroom, and the next few non-descript sitting rooms or offices.

As she neared the final door, Clary heard sharp voices booming inside. Poking her head around, she looked at the scene in front of her. And then recoiled.

Separated from her by a mere wall was the other half of her family.

Clary leaned her head against the wall outside the room. Shock threatened to overtake her as she tried to understand how this was possible.

Of all the places the Portal had to take her, it just had to be this one. Somehow, she was going to have to get out of this place- whether it be by stealth or facing them head on.

A voice that was more demon than human called out, filling Clary with dread. "Why don't you join us, Clary? I know you're standing there." The familiar sensations of pre-fight jitters ran through her. She needed al the help she could if this was going to be a fight- two fully-grown Shadowhunters against one, one of them injected with demon blood. She steeled herself and marched into the room.

Jonathan and Valentine were still sitting in stiff looking armchairs. Valentine smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. It reminded Clary of a shark about to dive for it's prey and tear it apart slowly.

"Please, sit down." It was phrased as a suggestion, but clearly a demand. She sat in the chair furthest from both of them, tension still running through her muscles like electricity through copper.

"What do you want?" She demanded roughly. "If you're going to kill me, just do it. Don't drag it on." She remembered in horror Jocelyn's stories- told to discourage Clary from ever trying to find her father- about Downworlders trapped in the basement of their manor. Vampires left out in the sun until their skin burned off, and werewolves with silver bound to them.

"Clarissa, we have a far more useful purpose for you."