You're a disaster for us, Clary! You're a mundane, you'll always be one, you'll never be a Shadowhunter! You don't know how to think like we do, think about what's best for everyone-- all you think about is yourself! But there's a war now, or there will be, and I don't have time or the inclination to follow around after you, trying to make sure you don't get us killed! Go home, Clary. Go home!
Clary:What are you doing here, anyway?Jace:'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking whether it's all just a cosmic coincidence or there's a greater metaethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but-Clary:I'm going to bed.
Catching sight of himself in the long mirrors that ran along the walls, he stiffened in shock...His eyes were surrounded by black shadows, his shirt smeared with dried blood and filthy mud..."Admiring yourself?" The Inquisitor's voice cut through his reverie. "You won't look so pretty when the Clave gets through with you.""You do seem obsessed with my look...Could it be that you're attracted to me?""Don't be revolting...You could be my son.
He wants her in his bedroom. And not in that way — no girl has ever been in his bedroom that way. It is his private space, his sanctuary. But he wants Clary there. He wants her to see him, the reality of him, not the image he shows the world. He wants to lie down on the bed with her and have her curl into him. He wants to hold her as she breathes softly through the night; to see her as no one else sees her: vulnerable and asleep. To see her and to be seen.
Magnus stood up and went to the window. He pushed the curtain back, letting in just enough light to silhouette his hawklike profile. "Blood," he said, half to himself. "I had a dream two nights ago. I saw a city all of blood, with towers made of bone, and blood ran in the streets like water."Simon slewed his eyes over to Jace. "Is standing by the window muttering about blood something he does all the time?""No," said Jace, "sometimes he sits on the couch and does it.
Why did you ask me to live with you? Werewolves hate vampires.”“I don’t,” said Kyle.” I’m not too fond of their kind, though.” He jabbed a finger at Jace. “They think they’re better than everyone else.”“No,” said Jace. “I think I’m better than everyone else. An opinion that has been backed up with ample evidence.”Kyle looked at Simon. “Does he always talk like this?”“Yes.
Keep up," said an irritable voice in her ear. It was Jace, who had dropped back to walk beside her. "I don't want to have to keep looking behind me to make sure nothing's happened to you.""So don't bother.""Last time I left you alone, a demon attacked you," he pointed out. "Well, I'd certainly hate to interrupt your pleasant night stroll with my sudden death."He blinked. "There is a fine line between sarcasm and outright hostility, and you seem to have crossed it.
Well I'm not kissing the mundane," said Jace. "I'd rather stay down here and rot.""Forever?" said Simon. "Forever is an awfully long time."Jace raised his eyebrows, "I knew it," he said, "you want to kiss me, don't you?"Simon threw his hands up in exasperation. "Of course not but if-""I guess it's true what they say," observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches.""That's atheists jackass," said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.
There she is." Alec spotted his sister and waved her over, looking relieved. "Over here. And watch out for the phouka.""Watch out for the phouka?" Jace repeated, glancing toward a thin brown-skinned man in a green paisley vest who eyed Isabelle thoughtfully as she walked by."He pinched me when I passed him earlier," Alec said stiffly. "In a highly personal area.""I hate to break it to you, but if he's interested in your highly personal areas, he probably isn't interested in your sister's.
What would you know about it?" he said. "Love, I mean."Dorothea folded her soft white hands in her lap. "More than you might think," she said. "Didn't I read your tea leaves, Shadowhunter? Have you fallen in love with the wrong person yet?"Jace said, "Unfortunately, Lady of the Haven, my one true love remains myself."Dorothea roared at that. "At least," she said, "you don't have to worry about rejection, Jace Wayland.""Not necessarily. I turn myself down occasionally, just to keep it interesting.
It's Simon. He's missing.""Ah," said Magnus, delicately, "missing what, exactly?""Missing," Jace repeated, "as in gone, absent, notable for his lack of presence, disappeared.""Maybe he's gone and hidden under something," Magnus suggested. "It can't be easy getting used to being a rat, especially for someone so dim-witted in the first place.""Simon's not dim-witted," Clary protested angrily."It's true," Jace agreed. "He just looks dim-witted. Really his intelligence is quite average.
It doesn't hurt.""But my eyes do," said a coolly amused voice from the doorway. Jace. He had come in so quietly that even Simon hadn't heard him; closing the door behind him, he grinned as Isabelle pulled Simon's shirt down. "Molesting the vampire while he's too weak to fight back, Iz?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure that violates at least one of the Accords.""I'm just showing him where he got stabbed," Isabelle protested, but she scooted back to her chair with a certain amount of haste.
She closed her eyes and jumped. For a moment she felt herself hang suspended, free of everything. Then gravity took over, and she plunged toward the floor. Instinctively she pulled her arms and legs in, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. The cord pulled taut and she rebounded, flying back up before falling again. As her velocity slowed, she opened her eyes and found herself dangling at the end of the cord, about five feet above Jace. He was grinning.'Nice', he said. 'As graceful as a falling snowflake.
Now very much against her will, she thought of the way Jace had looked at her then, the blaze of faith in his eyes, his belief in her. He had always thought she was strong. He had showed it in everything he did, in every look and every touch. Simon had faith in her too, yet when he'd held her, it had been as if she were something fragile, something made of delicate glass. But Jace had held her with all the strength he had, never wondering if she could take it--he'd known she was as strong has he was.
Hey, pretty thing," he said. "What's in the bag?""Holy water," said Jace, reappearing beside her as if he'd been conjured up like a genie. A sarcastic blond genie with a bad attitude."Oooh, a Shadowhunter," said the vampire. "Scary." With a wink he melted back into the crowd."Vampires are such prima donnas," Magnus sighed from the doorway. "Honestly, I don't know why I have these parties.""Because of your cat," Clary reminded him.Magnus perked up. "That's true. Chairman Meow deserves my every effort.
