The house that Clary and her mother were staying at was the Fairchild manor. Clary had asked her mother who the Fairchild's were and the answer surprised her.
"Because, that's my real last name." Clary was circling the inside of the house with her mother sitting in a white love seat in the living room. The living room was dusty. The walls were white along with most of the furniture other the glass table in the center of the room. "Clary, sit down, your making me dizzy." Clary obeyed her mother and sat down next to her.
"Mom?"
"Yes?" Her mother turned to look at Clary right in the eyes.
"With all year secrets you're telling me, like your real last name, Luke being a werewolf, and you and me being shadowhunters, I can't help but wonder, the picture you painted of dad and the one picture you have of him. Is he really my dad? You never talk about him. No memories of him. So Is he really my dad? Or was my dad a shadowhunter, like you?" Her mother's face went pale, but quickly flooded back with color. There was a long period of silence before Clary spoke again. "He wasn't really my dad, was he?" Her mother stayed silent again for a few seconds. Clary was about to speak again, but her mother spoke.
"No, he wasn't really your father." She stopped talking; trying to think is she should continue. Cary spoke up.
"So who's my real father?"
"A shadowhunter, an evil one. That goes by the name Valentine. I have been trying to hide you from him, so he couldn't turn you into your brother-" she cut herself off realizing what she had just said.
"I have a brother?" She asked. Jocelyn nodded her head.
"Yes, but you father turned him into a demon child." Clary couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Oh, my god. I can believe all of this!"
"Clary, just go to bed!"
"What? Go to bed? It's the morning, we just got here! You can't send me to bed every time you don't want to talk anymore!"
"No, not here, here it's night. Just look outside." Clary looked outside and it was pitch black, with glowing street lamps lighting the way. "I'm sorry Clary. I forgot about the time difference. Right now it's..." Her mother turned around to look up at the clock hanging off the white wall behind her. "It's eleven. You need to go to bed, tomorrow night's the ball. You need to rest." Clary shook her head in disappointment.
"I can't believe you." Is all she said before rushing upstairs and slamming the bedroom door shut behind her. Once Clary got ready for bed her mother stepped into the bedroom.
"Clary, I thought that tomorrow, before the ball, we can do a bit of training. But not too much because I don't want you to be tired for the ball, though."
"Sure." That made Clary smile a bit. She loved training, and she had to admit, that she was getting better and better every day. Now she knew; how to hold a sword properly, how to duck and roll from an attacker, different ways to attack, and a few more minor things. Her mother smiled, she looked happy at the fact that she had said yes. She have her a quick kiss on the forehead and walked out if the bedroom.
The next morning Clary put on her fighting gear and made her way down stairs to see a note on the table and a plate with two pieces of toast with butter on them, on the table. It was Clary's favorite thing on toast, just plane salted butter. She sat down and read the note as she ate.
Clary.
I will be in the back if the house for training. I have weapons to train with. When you're done eating you can meet me there.
Xo, Mom.
Clary shoved the rest of her breakfast in her moth and went in the back of the house to see her mother.
"Good morning." Clary said. Her mother turned around to face her. She was also wearing fighting gear.
"Good morning, ready to train?" Clary nodded her head. "Okay then, today I wanted you to practice throwing dangers. Is that okay with you?" Clary was looking forward to this lesion for a while now.
"Yea."
"Okay." Said her mother, and they began to train.