A/N/: Hey everyone this is my first fanfiction, I have written some of my original stories on Quotev under MomentKiller so if you like this you can check that out. I am really excited about this story, so updates might come soon but I am very incosistant I aim at least one update every two weeks. Just to let you know this chapter is set when Clary is 11 years old. So seven years earlier than when she is 18. I hope you enjoy, PLEASE review!

Prologue

7 years earlier

"Simon!" I shouted to my best friend across the playground.

"What?" he asked running towards me.

"Who's it?" I asked when he got closer. He smiled deviously and took another step closer so he could tap me on the shoulder.

"You.," he said and started running away, laughing at his own trickery. I gasped in mock outrage and chased after him.

"You are so dead!" I yelled at him, pumping my arms and trying to run at full speed to catch up with him, but my short legs weren't made for running and I eventually gave up. I looked around to see anyone from the game we were playing; I spotted Jordan hiding by a tree and started to run towards him when a teacher stopped me.

"Clary," Mrs. Hemway said, my 5th grade teacher looked hesitant and sadness outlined her eyes. "You are needed in the office. Your mother is waiting to pick you up; she said you do not need to bring your bag she'll get it tomorrow. Now quick hurry, she said it was urgent." Mrs. Hemway grabbed me by my upper arm and started leading me towards the office.

"Can I just say goodbye to Simon, he'll wonder where I'm going," I whined, and was slightly curious as to what my mum was doing here. She never picks me up from school, we live a quiet life on top of my mum's art store and she spends all her time painting and trying to pay the rent; we have no credit cards so everything we do must be done in cash. I've asked her why we don't and she just says that she doesn't trust them.

Mrs. Hemway looks sympathetic for a moment then her face hardens. "No," she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. She continues to drag me away from the playground. When we are out of sight from the playground she begins to pull me away from the office too.

"Hey, you missed the off-" I begin to say but she cuts me off and puts one of her gloved hands over my mouth. I stop walking but she picks me up around the waist and starts carrying me, I scream and cry and try to kick her when I see a black car on the road, but her grip is like iron and I can't get free. The passenger door opens and a man with light blonde hair steps out. His lips stretch into a smile when he sees me, revealing perfect white teeth.

"Excellent," he says in a smooth voice, I glare at him and try biting the hand over my mouth to no avail. At least I'm on the ground now, but Mrs. Hemway's grip withstands my tugs.

"Sorry about this dear," the man says, and Mrs. Hemway lets go of my mouth but before I can scream, he presses a tissue to my nose. I struggle but eventually everything goes black.

When I wake up I'm on a couch, it's leather and expensive not at all like our yellow comfy couch at home. Looking around the room I can see that everything looks expensive, like I might break it if I touched it. I carefully slide off the foreign couch and my bare feet sink into the carpet. Wait, bare feet? Looking down I see that I am in a pair of black plain flannel pyjamas. When I move to the window I see what looks like New York below me, I'm on the top floor of a very, very tall building. I have never been to New York but I've seen pictures and in the pictures there are lots of yellow cabs and that's what it looks like from the top of whatever building I'm in.

Scanning the room again I check the door, locked of course. There is a large desk at one end of the room, this must be someone's office. I run over to the desk and start tugging on the drawers; again, they are all locked too. I begin to panic and pick up the phone on the desk; there is no dial tone, I put down the phone dejectedly when a hidden door in the corner flies open. The man with pale hair walks in looking like he owns the place, he probably does, a younger boy follows him in. He looks about my age maybe a year or two older; he has the same blonde hair.

"Ah, good Clarissa you're up," he smiles at me as I back away from the desk, his desk I realise as he sits down; the boy stands to his right behind him, his expression blank.

"H-how do you know my name? What am I doing here? Who are you? What do you want?" The questions spill out of my mouth with rising hysteria.

"So many questions little one, firstly I am Valentine Morgenstern, I know your name because I helped name you, and you are here because I want you to be," he says calmly.

I blink taken aback, "What do you mean helped name me?" I narrow my eyes at him.

He laughs softly, "So she hasn't told you…" Valentine mutters and smiles again, "Clarissa darling, you have never seen or met your father since you were weeks old." He doesn't say it like a question, he knows.

"My father is dead. He died in a car accident when I was a baby," I say with certainty, this is what my mum has always told me.

Now Valentine laughs hard. "I know for a fact that your father is alive," he says seriously after he stops laughing.

"What do you mean? H-how…" I drift off not sure what to say, my father is dead. My mum wouldn't lie… "You're lying," I tell him.

"No I am not. I am the leader of the mob," he breaks off and looks at me. "Do you know what that is?" I nod, he looks slightly happy that I know what that is, "Anyway I train and run the best professional assassins in the business, your mother didn't want you brought up in that environment so she took you away and into hiding." I think of the credit cards and avoiding cameras, never letting me go in anything where I might get my name in the paper, like the Premiers Reading Challenge. "I found you recently, and I think you have it in you to be one of the best assassins in the world because it is in your blood, and I want to train you. I have been selecting children from around the world to train, in fact Jonathon here," he gestures to the boy behind him, "is my best junior apprentice, but I believe that you and him could be just as good as your father, me."

Tell me what you think and please review! I have big plans for this story