This idea literally punched me in the boob earlier on like "WRTE ME BITCH!" So… *rubs boob* here we are. Dipping my toe back into the non-contemporary category and I've been trying to think up an alien Clace fic for so long you have no idea. *cuddles Coldplay – A Sky Full Of Stars because it was what triggered this storyline.* M rated again of course. Why else do you read fanfiction for? Clary is 18 and Jonathan and Jace are 19. This is a very short prologue just to see if people are interested in reading more. If enough want to read more, I'll continue. So drop your thoughts and if you want more! Thanks guys! X p.s. City of Heavenly Fireis out today. I'm terrified to read it later on (hopefully) (no spoilers in reviews please… yes this happens O_O)

Starkillers

I will never forgive them for this. Never.

Nevada is hot and dry as we drive though, our destination the City of Sin. I miss New York already. I miss the early morning sounds of sleepy commuters, the metallic rattling of the trash being picked up and the cheap coffee at Takis.

Our place on the outskirts of Vegas is a three hours drive away from Area 51. Also known as dad's new place of work with the Department of Defense, the reason we've traveled thousands of miles to the middle of nowhere.

The entire drive there I was sat in the back with Jonathan, my elder brother. He sat with his arms folded, dark eyes glaring at the back of our father's pale blond head. Once upon a time those eyes had been green. Moving to Vegas from New York did not go down well with him. At all. Tantrums were thrown and plates were smashed against windows.

"At least the hookers are bountiful" he'd smirked a week before we left. Dad had hit him squarely in the cheek for that. Jonathan still has to learn how to hold his tongue around our father. He's a man of many talents, Valentine Morgenstern, but fatherly affection is not on his list.

The new house is big and gated, rooms capable of holding at least three king sized beds. Jonathan snatches up the biggest room instantly and I'm left with the one in the converted attic that spans almost half the house. Above the room is a skylight that shows the endless ocean of stars at night. Jonathan has lost out on something really rather special.

Our first dinner as a family in our new home is a quiet one. Dad sits at the head of the table, my on his left and mom on his right. Jonathan sits opposite picking at his lasagna in silence, barely eating a thing. He looks pale and sick in the bright overhead lights. Almost as if he's about to throw up.

Then again, it's only been a year since his truly miraculous recovery.

I turn my gaze back down to my dinner, biting into the piece on my fork without a word.

Dad clears his throat, setting his knife and fork down with a soft clink. "I won't have any complaining from either of you. This is an amazing opportunity that I fully expect you to embrace and take advantage of."

Jonathan slams his fork down, eyes blazing like dark fire. "I'm not staying here. I'm going home."

"Here is your home now Jonathan."

My brother gets to his feet, the chair falling to the floor behind him with a loud bang. He snarls, baring perfect white teeth. "This will never be my home. The heat…" Jonathan's chest heaves and mom shifts a little, reaching out a hand. "Jonathan, sit down. Calm down."

"Never!" he rages, kicking the chair violently aside as he storms from the dining room.

Also since last year… Jonathan has changed. One moment he was lying in a hospital bed dying, the next he's completely cured and prone to unexpected bursts of such terrible rage that sometimes our father is forced to tie him down while he wears himself out and returns to normal.

It hurts to see him still in such agony. There seems to be no end of it for him.

"Sit" father tells me sharply as I start to rise to my feet. Slowly I sink back down, no longer hungry. I want to run after my brother. I want to hear him tell me he's okay, eyes bright and cheerful, not dead and empty.

It feels like we're losing him. Again.

I cannot sleep. The air is too hot, too dry and I hate it. Blue and white spotted sheets lie on the carpet of my bedroom as I stare up at the sky through the skylight. There's one star in particular that keeps twinkling and flickering like a fiery beacon. It just won't stop growing brighter.

When I get to my feet and pad over to the window, peering past the curtains, all I see is darkness. The desert is an unending expanse of shadow with no light at all.

At first the light in the distance is faint. A tiny speck that flickers in and out of existence. But then it grows brighter and larger. Closer and closer is comes, moving faster than I can comprehend. Faster than a speeding bullet.

My eyes widen as the floor beneath me starts to shake slightly, a shiver of fear creeping down my spine. Is this an earthquake? Do they have them here in Nevada?

Then the roaring starts. It's like the sky is falling, the ground cracking into pieces. I scream and clamp my hands over my ears as the windows shatter completely, closing my eyes against the deadly shards of glass.

"Clary-!" I hear mom yelling, frantic from the other room as the house shakes madly, the sound of shattering of glass downstairs meeting my ears as I pull my hands away.

The desert explodes in white-blue light that force me to clamp my eyes tight shut. It's like daylight has arrived hours too early, the sun tumbling from the sky. But that wouldn't explain the blue.

As the light fades, the ground gradually stops its shaking. Light tremors, and then it's all over.

My nails hurt from where they've been dug into the window ledge, breathing quick and shallow. When mom bursts into the room, her voice terrified and shaky, she has to pull me away. Has to carefully remove my now bloodied nails from the wood.

The lights flicker faintly when mom turns them on, her face pale and drawn. "Baby" she gasps, seating me down on my bed, grasping my face with her shaking hands. "Clary? Are you okay?"

I nod jerkily, trying to regulate my breathing – a panic attack is the last thing I need right now. The lights stop flickering, brightening instantly and mom tugs me into her arms. Her grip is too tight but I don't push her away. She feels terrified.

But then, so do I.

A new sound pierces the air now. One that chills me to the bone; Jonathan is screaming. Screaming as if there is a knife in his heart being mercilessly twisted.

Pushing my mother aside, I scrabble to my feet and hare down the stairs leading from my attic bedroom to the second floor. Jonathan's bedroom door is flung wide open, floor littered with shards of broken glass. He writhes on his bed, chest bare and heaving as he screams and sobs in agony, hands clamped over his eyes while my father holds him down by his shoulders.

Behind my brother's hands I swear I see the blue light from outside leaking from between his fingers like faint sapphire smoke. But when his hands fall away, there is no light. His eyes are their usual endless black, except right now the skin around them is bright red and wet. Jonathan's body relaxes upon the bed and dad's grip finally eases up. When he steps back, I see a pair of bright red handprints on his chest. My brother curls up into a ball and turns away from us both, body still shaking faintly.

Dad pulls out his mobile and makes a call. He leaves the room instantly, hissing something that I don't catch.

There's a new dark green poster on Jonathan's wall saying Extraterrestrial Highway.

Ha, I laugh internally, placing a hand gently on my brother's shoulder. Maybe it was aliens.

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