“I don’t want to be a man,” said Jace. “I want to be an angst-ridden teenager who can’t confront his own inner demons and takes it out verbally on other people instead.”
“Well,” said Luke, “you’re doing a fantastic job.”
“We came to see Jace. Is he alright?”
“I don’t know,” Magnus said. “Does he normally just lie on the floor like that without moving?”
“Don’t touch any of my weapons without my permission.”
“Well, there goes my plan for selling them all on eBay,” Clary muttered.
“Selling them on what?”
Clary smiled blandly at him. “A mythical place of great magical power.”
“The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he’d learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed.”
“Well, I’m not kissing the mundane,” said Jace. “I’d rather stay down here and rot.”
“Forever?” said Simon. “Forever’s an awfully long time.”
Jace raised his eyebrows. “I knew it,” he said. “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
“I am a man” he told her, “and men do not consume pink beverages. Get thee gone woman, and bring me something brown.”
“Not everything is about you,” Clary said furiously.
“Possibly,” Jace said, “but you do have to admit that the majority of things are.”
“Life is a book and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read.”
“Is this the part where you say if I hurt her, you’ll kill me?”
“No” Simon said, “If you hurt Clary she’s quite capable of killing you herself. Possibly with a variety of weapons.”
“We live and breathe words. …. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt–I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted–and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.”
“You said you were going for a walk!? What kind of walk takes six hours?”
“A long one?”
“Don’t order any of the faerie food,” said Jace, looking at her over the top of his menu. “It tends to make humans a little crazy. One minute you’re munching a faerie plum, the next minute you’re running naked down Madison Avenue with antlers on your head. Not,” he added hastily, “that this has ever happened to me.”
“Will looked horrified. “What kind of monster could possibly hate chocolate?”
“One of the Silent Brothers is here to see you. Hodge sent me to wake you up. Actually he offered to wake you himself, but since it’s 5 a.m., I figured you’d be less cranky if you had something nice to look at.”
“I’ve got a stele we can use. Who wants to do me?”
“A regrettable choice of words,” muttered Magnus.”
“Can I help you with something?”
Clary turned instant traitor against her gender. “Those girls on the other side of the car are staring at you.”
Jace assumed an air of mellow gratification. “Of course they are,” he said, “I am stunningly attractive.”
“Mom. I have something to tell you. I’m undead. Now, I know you may have some preconceived notions about the undead. I know you may not be comfortable with the idea of me being undead. But I’m here to tell you that undead are just like you and me â€¦ well, okay. Possibly more like me than you.”
“Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn’t make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie. (Jace Wayland)”
“You see, cuckoos are parasites. They lay their eggs in other birds’ nests. When the egg hatches, the baby cuckoo pushes the other baby birds out of the nest. The poor parent birds work themselves to death trying to find enough food to feed the enormous cuckoo child who has murdered their babies and taken their places.”
“Enormous?” said Jace. “Did you just call me fat?”
“It was an analogy.”
“I am not fat.”
“Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Jace shoot her a look of white rage – but when she glanced at him, he looked as he always did: easy, confident, slightly bored.
“In future, Clarissa,” he said, “it might be wise to mention that you already have a man in your bed, to avoid such tedious situations.”
“You invited him into bed?” Simon demanded, looking shaken.
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” said Jace. “We would never have all fit.”
“I didn’t invite him into bed,” Clary snapped. “We were just kissing.”
“Just kissing?” Jace’s tone mocked her with its false hurt. “How swiftly you dismiss our love.”
“Usually I’m remarkably good natured. Try me on a day that doesn’t end in y.”
“No, I’m just a very naughty boy. I do all sorts of bad things. I kick kittens. I make rude gestures at nuns.”
“There’s plenty of sense in nonsense sometimes, if you wish to look for it.”
“The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me.”
“It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them.”
“Don’t tell me,” Jace said, “Simon’s turned himself into an ocelot and you want me to do something about it before Isabelle makes him into a stole. Well, you’ll have have to wait till tomorrow. I’m out of commission.” He pointed at himself – he was wearing blue pajamas with a hole in the sleeve. “Look. Jammies.”
“Jace,” Clary said, “this is important.”
“Don’t tell me,” he said. “You’ve got a drawing emergency. You need a nude model. Well, I’m not in the mood. You could always ask Hodge,” he said as an afterthought. “I hear he’ll do anything for a -“
“JACE!” she interrupted him, her voice rising to a scream. “JUST SHUT UP FOR A SECOND AND LISTEN, WILL YOU?”
“Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side.”
“It’s not gray,” Clary felt compelled to point out. “It’s green.”
“If there was such a thing as terminal literalism, you’d have died in childhood,” said Jace.”
“Did you ever think that in a past life Alec was an old woman with ninety cats who was always yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn? Because I do,”
“You’re just worried they’ll hire a male instructor and he’ll be hotter than you.”
Jace’s eyebrows went up. “Hotter than me?”
“It could happen,” Clary said, “You know, theoretically.”
“Theoretically the planet could suddenly crack in half, leaving me on one side and you on the other, forever and tragically parted, but I’m not worried about that either. Some things,” Jace said, with his customary crooked smile, “are just too unlikely to dwell upon.”
“Must you go? I was rather hoping you’d stay and be a ministering angel, but if you must go, you must.”
“I’ll stay,” Will said a bit crossly, and threw himself down in the armchair Tessa had just vacated. “I can minister angelically.”
“None too convincingly. And you’re not as pretty to look at as Tessa is,” Jem said, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the pillow.
“How rude. Many who have gazed upon me have compared the experience to gazing at the radiance of the sun.”
Jem still had his eyes closed. “If they mean it gives you a headache, they aren’t wrong.”
“You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.”
“Jace shook his blond head in exasperation.
“You had to make a crazy jail friend, didn’t you? You couldn’t just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do?”
“What do you want?”
“Just coffee. Black – like my soul.”
“Magnus, standing by the door, snapped his fingers impatiently. “Move it along, teenagers. The only person who gets to canoodle in my bedroom is my magnificent self.”
“Canoodle?” repeated Clary, never having heard the word before.
“Magnificent?” repeated Jace, who was just being nasty. Magnus growled. The growl sounded like “Get out.”
“You’re the first Shadowhunter I’ve ever met.”
“That’s too bad,” said Jace, “since all the others you meet from now on will be a terrible letdown.”
“Tess, Tess, Tessa.
Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it â€“ a heart ringing â€“ but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.
Why have I written these words in this book? Because of you. You taught me to love this book where I had scorned it. When I read it for the second time, with an open mind and heart, I felt the most complete despair and envy of Sydney Carton. Yes, Sydney, for even if he had no hope that the woman he loved would love him, at least he could tell her of his love. At least he could do something to prove his passion, even if that thing was to die.
I would have chosen death for a chance to tell you the truth, Tessa, if I could have been assured that death would be my own. And that is why I envied Sydney, for he was free.
And now at last I am free, and I can finally tell you, without fear of danger to you, all that I feel in my heart.
You are not the last dream of my soul.
You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth.
With hope at least,
“I know it’s wrong – God, it’s all kinds of wrong – but I just want to lie down with you and wake up with you, just once, just once ever in my life.”
“Will rolled up his sleeves. “We’ll probably have to knock down the door–“
“Or,” said Jem, reaching out and giving the knob a twist, “not.”
The door swung open onto a rectangle of darkness.
“Now, that’s simply laziness,” said Will.”
“Demon pox, oh demon pox
Just how is it acquired?
One must go down to the bad part of town
Until one is very tired.
Demon pox, oh demon pox, I had it all along—
Not the pox, you foolish blocks,
I mean this very song—
For I was right, and you were wrong!”
“Will!” Charlotte shouted over the noise, “Have you LOST YOUR MIND? CEASE THAT INFERNAL RACKET! Jem—”
Jem, rising to his feet, clapped his hands over Will’s mouth. “Do you promise to be quiet?” he hissed into his friend’s ear.
Will nodded, blue eyes blazing. Tessa was staring at him in amazement; they all were. She had seen Will many things—amused, bitter, condescending, angry, pityin—but never giddy before.
Jem let him go. “All right, then.”
Will slid to the floor, his back against the armchair, and threw up his arms. “A demon pox on all your houses!” he announced, and yawned.
“Oh, God, weeks of pox jokes,” said Jem. “We’re in for it now.”
“It’s the mortal cup Jace, not the mortal toilet bowl.”
“You know, some people think Shadowhunters are just myths. Like mummies and genies.” Kyle grinned at Jace. “Can you grant wishes?”
“That depends,” he said. “Do you wish to be punched in the face?”
“There’s no need to clarify my finger snap,” said Magnus. “The implication was clear in the snap itself.”
“So you’re a Shadowhunter,’ Nate said. ‘De Quincey told me that you lot were monsters.’
‘Was that before or after he tried to eat you?’ Will inquired.”
“Is there some particular reason that you’re here?” …
“Not this again.”
“Not what again?” said Clary.
“Every time I annoy him, he retreats into his No Mundanes Allowed tree house.” Simon pointed at Jace.”
“I forgot that’s what gets you all hot and bothered, Jace, girls killing things.”
“I like anyone killing things, especially me.” he said with a smile.”