It was a beautiful day in New York, but Mary Lightwood, who had just finished packing for the trip ahead, was angry. Her parents were making her move to Britain, just because the Council wanted to see them. The Lightwood family owns a large repair shop, mostly for old clockwork machines. Mary, having lived with the shop all her life, loves repairing old machinery. She sits in the attic above the shop repairing an old clock.

Knock. Knock.

Mary turns her attention quickly from her work to the wooden attic door. As quick as a flash, she grabs the machine, lifting the loose floorboard under the desk and sets it gently inside the floor. Placing the floorboard back in place she stands, brushing the dirt off her dress. Walking over she opens the door to find her mother standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

The horn on the large steamer that the family was taking went off, taking Mary out of her thoughts. Earlier this morning Mary argued with her parents about going; she lost the fight and is now grounded for a week. Grabbing her silk dress, she climbed aboard the steamer, not taking her father's outstretched hand. She takes her seat across from her parents and younger brother, Nathanael.

Her brother, at fifteen, was charming, more charming than her older brother James. Nathanael is the only one in my family who knows my secret life of mechanics. James is the firstborn of the Lightwood family. We rarely hear from him, the last time I heard from him was a few months ago.

He sent a letter; only, you really couldn't call it a letter when it was only a few sentences about how he despises our family. He moved down south with his wife, Cicely. I wholeheartedly dislike that woman. All she wants is my brother's money. But I guess since my brother despises us he doesn't want to be our family anymore, or is the letter Cicely's doing. It wouldn't matter anyway, there isn't anything I can do. He is out of my life. I guess I have to deal with it.

×+×+×

Unlike New York, London is a cold, rainy city in Great Britain. I'm not much for a cold, dark, rainy place to live. 'It's a good thing we are leaving.' My mother told me. How could this be a good thing? I completely disagree with the Council for making us leave. What could be so important for us to all of a sudden pack our things and leave? Out of nowhere. Without even saying goodbye.

Our driver stops the carriage in front of a large spooky brick building. Around the grounds, is a tall black steel fence that makes the building seem menacing. Our driver steps down from the carriage, opening the door and let my mother and me out. My father and brother stepped out next. The rusted gate creaks as we open it and step onto the grounds of the three story mansion.

We walk up the cobblestone walkway; my father lifts the brass knocker and hits it hard against the mahogany door. He knocks a second time and a woman opens the door. Her fiery red hair comes out of her white cap at the sides of her head; she curtsies to us and grabs her black and white uniform and backs away to let us through.

"Mr. White and the Council are in the Drawing room." She pauses to close the door behind Nate and continues speaking. "May I take your coats Mr. Lightwood?" She was looking at both my father and Nathanael.

"No, we are quite fine at the moment. If we do need your services, we shall call you." He declares.

"Very well, I shall alert Mr. White presently." She curtsies and leaves the room.

Our father leads us to the sitting room to wait for Mr. White and the maid to come back. After a few minutes there is a slight knock on the door. My family and I all turn towards the noise. A tall man, wearing a black coat stands at the door. At the sides of his eyes are laugh lines, His eyes are the color of the sky outside; gray and cloudy.

"Welcome to my home! The Council is waiting for us to start the meeting, if you would please follow me." He greets with a humble smile.

We stand and follow him out of the lit drawing room and out to the hallway. As we enter the drawing room all eyes are on my brother and me. My family is the last living Dumaya. More or humans, call us Fallen Angels; though we normally use our title for it. 

The leaders of each clan or species is here, followed by their families. Each leader is in charge of keeping our world safe from the more knowledge.

Whispers escape throughout the room as I sit down. Some of the clans think I may be adopted, because I look nothing like my family. My family has black hair and charming emerald green eyes when I have brown hair and mud brown eyes. I think I may agree with the clans that I'm adopted but I never asked my parents about it.

"Now, I welcome all of you here to my humble home." Mr. White begins. "Last week we had a few... shall I say slip ups. A group of more kids found out the existence of some Sarga." The room suddenly fills with a flood of gasps.

"Now, calm down, everything's all right. We have resolved the matter and it has come to my attention that from now on, the younger generation shall attend a secret boarding school. This school will have no Moroa, and they will be able to learn about their abilities." He pauses as the group calms down. "This is all up for debate, all in favor say aye."

A long chorus of ayes fill the room. My father clears his throat and raises his hand. "Mr. White, where will this school be held?"

"Here in London, I made arrangements for your family to stay here until the school is finished; which will be finished next week." He pauses to turn to everyone else. "You are now dismissed."

Everyone stands, and begins filling out of the room, one clan after the next. I will be going to boarding school and living in London. Great! Shaking my head, I follow my family out the door.