Hey, so before I get into the chapter just wanted to warn you that update's will not be as frequent. I've got school for one, life for another, and I'm kinda stoked about my new story, it's ideas are kind of filling my mind. Anyways, this story will ****emphasis on will****be finished soon, and I am sooooo excited for the ending.

Tell me what you're predicting?

Anyways enjoy, sorry I haven't edited yet.

The path was dusty. And the blood from the three Kuri was stinging her. In fact, it was making Clary's eyes ache.

Unbearably.

And itch.

For what felt like the hundredth time that minute Clary reached up and ripped her nails into her skin near her eyelid, not quite exterminating the feeling but dulling the intolerability of it. She sighed as she heard the satisfying 'scritch scratch' close to her ears. Clarissa looked towards the golden boy beside her, dim moonlight making him a ghostly outline. "Are my eyes red?" she asked turning and gazing the massive distance between their heights. Clary had never noticed it before. If he were to kiss her she'd imagine it'd be very uncomfortable...

"How can I see your eyes Clarissa? If you hadn't noticed, night has fallen." he asked her mockingly, a rhetorical question. He didn't stop but brushed right past her. His tone wasn't just mocking either, Clary realized blatantly. It was aggravated almost. Slightly frustrated.

Mad?

No, what would he have to be mad about?

"Sorry?" she didn't quite apologize, not knowing what it was she did wrong. "I never had allergies before." A thought occurred to her. "Jonathon always did, though. He was jealous because that was the reason he never came to visit Magnus when..." she trailed off as Jace whipped his head around. She saw his adams apple bob up and down.

"What?" she asked worried.

Jace just shook his head. Yet he hesitated. When he opened his mouth it hung, quiet, until he just blurted out "Nothing."

As if anything was ever nothing.

"Clary quickly ran after him as he stormed off.

She couldn't tell the time, the stars were hidden. But she could tell by the drooping of her eyelids that they had walked enough for the night. "Stop here," she called out for Jace had left her to lag behind while he 'scouted' in the front. Truth was, Clary knew he thought she was slowing them down, and he wanted to kill any demons that could possibly be ahead before she had a chance to die from a bite.

Clary didn't know why she was alive still.

And not because of the demons.

It was because her life was the soul thing that completed each equation, and if she were any good shadowhunter she would have already thrown herself to the Reaper. She deserved to die, if not for the value of her sacrifice, then because she murdered her family. Her mother, Jocelyn, as Clary had briefly mentioned to Jace, ran away when Clary was just little. Valentine went after her just days later and he didn't return with Mother. Jonathan always said Clary was the to blame. Jonathan always said Jocelyn died-Valentine killed her. But that's the thing, if she did die because of Clary it was an accident. Clary had purposefully killed Father.

For the first time she felt guilt run through her apparently murderous heart.

She'd murdered the man that gave life to her.

Murdered.

What was wrong with her.

Was she really that screwed up, too damaged to feel, to think.

He might have been a terrible man but he. Was. Her. Father.

With a hoarse voice she called out as she entered a nearby clearing. "Let's make a fire! We have to sleep." Another thing: she was wanted alive and her brother wanted to kill her in order to rule the world. But if she died before he got to her, if Jace buried her body so he would never find her, never meet his blood with hers...everything would be solved.

"Jace?!" She called again as she plunked down on soft, dark grass. The earth felt warm and comfortable. Like she should sleep on it. Clary usually despised sleeping on the ground.

Yet another thing:

If she were to die then all these innocents would probably be let free. Or have the ability to run for their lives.

Fighting would be useless.

Clary sighed and laid down. She wasn't usually so exhausted after just fighting. It must have been from the walk and the fight at the house as well. "JACE?!" she screamed out, wanting him to be here, to be with her on this newly discovered comforting essence called the grass, to help her forget like he was so good at doing, especially recently.

Another thing: If she were to die then Jace would live. Jace. He couldn't die. Not for her, at least. He'd already saved her life, Clary couldn't owe him something in the afterlife as well.

No reply came. Clary sat up straight. "Jace?" she asked, her red hair looked black as it swung over shoulder. She started to rise. "Jace?"

"Sister." came an ominous chuckle, she felt shivers run down her spine. Suddenly she was so acutely aware of her surroundings.

Black, dark green, and white flowered in splatters of visibility caused from the moon. It's glow eagerly stroked the canopies of the trees so high above her, creating festering shadows and taking depth to a new level. Everything was so...vivid. Clary swung around, for some reason she still wasn't standing up and saw him, white hair glistening so alike dusk's sun.

His eyes blended with the shadows of his face.

"Why do you like that boy so much?" she went to deny it, opening her mouth but he cut her off. "No,no. Don't refute me. I can feel it through the bond."

The bond.

That was why everything felt so strange. Memories filled her mind.

Jonathon sniffed once again as they trailed through the woods, he and her following Father to a 'friends' as Father liked to call him. Father turned around with a huff. "Next time, Jonathon," he sneered, Father was always annoyed at useless noises. "You will not be joining us. Clarissa, take your brother home and come back up through the path. I will be awaiting your return to me, right here."

Jonathon shot her a glare with his shark's eyes.

The memory fused into yet another.

Jonathon shot her a glare with beady black yes as he laid on the floor. "He always does this after a fight, Clarissa," her Father touched her back lightly and started tugging her away from his sleeping form. Clary didn't want to hurt her brother, her brother just loved hurting her. She didn't understand why he hated her so much. She just knew he hated her even more when she got these little touches that meant nothing to her. The appreciation that went in one ear and out the other."He has virtually no endurance whatsoever. Come along now." Valentine's voice wasn't soft, but no longer hard as he coaxed her into a standing position. Her 6-year-old eyes watched Jonathon as he rolled around on the ground.

He loved the ground.

Especially grass.

Clary didn't know why or how. But she wanted to.

"Clarissa!" the bark was an order to her injured form and Clary quickly slipped away.

Clary tried to slip away as his stele whipped out, eyes blazing into hers as he dragged it across her pale skin, binding them, their feelings, their likes and dislikes. Clary shook her head. She didn't want to remember that. Clary didn't realize it then but it was Lilith's binding rune, one whom Jonathon had been taught and she had just briefly glanced over. Jonathon had kept the information then, she felt the pride flash through her heart and knew it was not hers but his own. He'd retained the information and studied it until he could use it. He'd been planning it all along. Clary glared at him. She never knew why she'd ever want to be close to him.

Their blood had ripped that from them. The only connection they'd had.

Their blood ripped their family to shreds.

"I don't like him." she said almost distantly. She really didn't like Jace Wayland. He was too aloof to like. "I'm attracted to him." She answered honestly.

Clary didn't know why she wasn't scared. a calm had washed through her and she just couldn't shake it. It wasn't normal.

"You may not realize it, Clarissa, but it is more than that. You lo-" Clary cut him off quickly.

"I don't love him." she rushed out.

"No," his straight hair flung out in a fan as he shook his head, not vigorously but...elegantly. "What you and him share, I can't explain it but...it's so much more than love."

Clary shook her head at him and laughed humorlessly. "I've known him all of week, Jonathon. I don't have a connection with that boy."

Jonathon smirked. "You're so oblivious, aren't you? That boy and yourself are so interconnected that I can almost feel him touch you. You feel something deeper than attraction, Sister. You feel his touch in your nerves, in your mind, in your heart. You may not know it but...there's something strange between you two."

Clary smiled without amusement and blurted out something she hadn't even knew she realized. "Yeah, well, he only wants me because his other slut was captured, and he can't toy with her anymore."

Jonathon shook his head. She couldn't believe he hadn't killed her yet. "Aline Penhallow! He's not her type, if you know what I mean." Jonathan cocked his head and studied her, thoughts in his deep black eyes.

By the angel she hated him in that moment.

"I read in Father's books that angel's are extremely sensitive to touch." he said as if it was a secret." Just one simple brush of the finger and an angel can compel a mundane to do anything. Slave, torture, murder, lust...love. Sister..." the shadows were quickly slipping around him, engulfing his body. 'Sister, come to me. Forget your plaything and come. You and I both know that you're not winning this. So give me your blood."

Clary just scoffed and was rewarded with a glint of metal and pain. She realized blatantly that he had thrown a knife at her.

She had no idea where he got it from, or why she hadn't realized it before. looking to her palm she gasped.

The knife was gold, engraved with the demon Lilith, her body looking like spray panted lava rock and her hand snaking around an upside-down star. It was shining bright, a hazy white-yellow encrusted with rubies. The knife had stuck into her hand, which had come up involuntarily to block the hit. Blood welded in her palm as she hissed. It was moving sluggishly, building in the crevasses and creases where her fingers had used their muscles too much, where her identity was etched into her skin in lines. She looked up to see her brother grinning ear to ear, the only part of him visible in the shadow's his teeth and the white of his eyes-like a cat Clary'd watched in a fantasy film.

"Exspecto vobis, Clarissa." he'd said. "I am waiting for you"

And with that Clary woke up with a start, her finger nails sinking into the ground, her palm bleeding gallons onto the grass, a fire lighting her hair in a warm hue, and a whispering chant in her ear. "It's okay, your okay. It was a nightmare. It's okay. You're okay."

But it was not a nightmare, her blood proved that.

And she was not okay.

So I'm thinking about 4-5 chapters left. I'm sorry if this one was boring and I'm not exactly happy with it but I felt as if something needed to get out there so...here it is. As you can see the sudden attraction is due to something more than hormones, and Jonathon and Clary are bonded, just not fatally so. Once the pair meet Magnus all the binding confusion-hopefully it's not that confusing- will be resolved because he knows all

He's Magnus.

Just preparing you but Magnus is going to be pretty OOC. Not so much that you wouldn't recognize him, but with Valentine (basically) as his boss, he can't be too flashy. So I'm not saying no sparkles. Just not as many. And not with glitter. I hope you understand.

Please, please review, please please keep reading. I love all of you.

Lovestory112.