Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy

by Cassandra Clare

“It’s just . . . I know some people called Jonathan. Not that any of them call themselves Jonathan. Called themselves Jonathan.”

“Wow,” said George. “I imagined the demon realms were fearsome and terrifying, but seems like it was pretty much nonstop nom nom nom.”

“So you just came here to torture me and talk about yourself?” Simon demanded. “Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon,” said Jace. “You may not remember, but that’s kind of our thing.”

“Dear heart,” he said. He took her hand and kissed it. “Who knows your courage better than I?”

I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them to be real. —Oscar Wilde

You never know when, and you never know who, but someday a stranger will burst through the door of your life and transform it utterly. The world will be turned upside down, and you will be happier for it.”

“Your mother says she will be brave and keep a stiff upper lip,” said Father. “Americans are heartless. I will cry into my pillow every night.”

He did not know why books had not taught him how to talk so other people wanted to listen.

You love, and tremble, and burn. Do not let any of them tell you who you are. You are the flame that cannot be put out. You are the star that cannot be lost. You are who you have always been, and that is enough and more than enough. Anyone who looks at you and sees darkness is blind.

“How is Mother?” James whispered. “She cried when Jem told her, and said you were her sweet boy,” said Father. “I believe she may be planning to strangle you and then bake you a cake afterward.” “I like cake,” James said at last.

“Father, please,” James said in a quiet voice. “Mr. Herondale, please!” said Matthew. “We cannot be parted.” James braced himself for the explanation about truth and beauty, but instead Matthew said, with devastating simplicity: “We are going to be parabatai.”

“Father, you did not steal Uncle Gabriel’s carriage again,” said James. “This is your time of trouble. He would want me to have it, and he would have given it to me if I asked him, which as it happens I did not,” said Father.

History, the way teachers liked it, was a racetrack, a straight shot from start to finish line; life itself was more of a maze.

“Entreat me not to leave thee, Or return from following after thee— For whither thou goest, I will go, And where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Angel do so to me, and more also, If aught but death part thee and me.”

Some were born with abs, some achieved abs, and some—like Simon—had abs thrust upon them by cruel instructors.

Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to Endless Night —“Auguries of Innocence,” William Blake

Then he opened the little refrigerator. The heavy door fell off, until Magnus gave it a stern look and it hopped back on.

“Uh, Magnus has a boyfriend,” said Simon. There was a frightening glint in Julie’s eye. “There are some mountains you still want to climb, even though there are ‘No Trespassing’ signs up.”

“I wasn’t aware,” said Simon, “that there are any other girls in the world but you.”

Clary and Simon continued to stare judgmentally. It made Simon very happy. Judging people together was an essential part of best friendship.

Magnus kept misplacing his baby. This did not seem a good sign for the future. Magnus was sure you were meant to keep a firm grip on their location.

Sed lex, dura lex. The Law is hard, but it is the Law. Lex sucks, Simon thought.