Son of the Dawn (Ghosts of the Shadow Market, #1)

by Cassandra Clare

Some worlds only lasted one night.

If the Market had the power to lend him warmth and illumination for only a night, Brother Zachariah would have taken it.

Creatures as inhuman as he did not sleep, but sometimes he lay down and rested, hoping for something like peace. It never came. He spent his long nights feeling love slip through his fingers, more a memory by now than a feeling.

“I

am Raphael Santiago, second in command of the New York clan, and I dislike useless people.”

“My Institute, as you call it, belongs to people who are . . . how do I put this tactfully . . . bigots and murderers.”

“Being a damned soul, I have no moral objection to the Lightwoods,” said Raphael

The only woman Zachariah had ever loved was a warlock. He had seen her weep over the Circle and its effects.

And one of Robert Lightwood’s ancestors had been a woman called Cecily Herondale.

“I absolutely hate the Ashdowns,”

“So how about it, Brother Lipsmackariah, will you help us out?” Lily asked brightly.

“Ever heard of yin fen?”

Zachariah usually tried to preserve memories of his mortal life, but now he had to make an effort to banish the intruding horror of waking up as a child with all he loved dead, and silver fire burning in his veins.

She was the last star he had to steer by.

“Magnus invented your Portals, not that he receives any credit for it from Shadowhunters. He is one of the most powerful warlocks in the world, and so tenderhearted he rushes to the aid of vicious

killers. He is the best the Downworld has to offer. If the Circle targeted him, they would cut down any one of us.”

“Magnus throws an amazing rager, too.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Raphael, casting a look of distaste upon the joyful riot of the Market. “I do not enjoy people. Or gatherings.”

“Good for you,” snapped Raphael. “Revel in your hobby of liking and trusting everyone. It sounds as appealing to me as sunbathing.”

“I hardly think Brother Beast-with-two-backs-ariah needs a love charm.”

Perhaps tomorrow night the Lightwoods will earn your trust,

“Hate like that does not fade. The work of the Circle is not done yet. The Morgenstern legacy will claim more victims. I do not intend to be one of them. ”

Isabelle Lightwood was not accustomed to feeling nervous about anything, but anyone might be apprehensive when faced with the prospect of a new addition to the family.

For herself, Isabelle was a little excited. She liked adventure and company.

Dad did not seem happy when he talked about his parabatai, but he did seem determined that Jonathan would come to live with them. Jonathan had nowhere else to go, Dad insisted, and he belonged with them. That was what being parabatai meant. Once when she was eavesdropping on them shouting, Isabelle heard Dad say, “I owe Michael this.”

Alec did not like new people.

Isabelle knew vampires were dead and soulless and all, but she did not see why they had to be rude.

“I know!” Alec whispered back. “Isn’t he amazing?”

Isabelle started to get the same uneasy feeling that she got whenever she noticed Alec looking at the same posters of mundie singers that she did.

Alec always got red and angry when she saw him looking. Isabelle sometimes thought it would be nice to talk about the singers, the way she’d heard mundie girls doing, but she knew Alec wouldn’t want to. Once Mom had asked them what they were looking at, and Alec had looked afraid.

“I’m Alexander Lightwood,” said Alec. Grimacing as if the introduction were vital information being tortured out of him, the vampire said: “I am Raphael.”

“I’m basically twelve,” continued Alec, who was totally eleven.

“Also,” Alec added shyly, “your jacket is cool.” “Why are you talking to my children?” Mom asked sharply.

fear seemed to travel to Isabelle through her mother’s touch, even though she had not been afraid before.

Maybe Alec was just ensorcelled by vampire wiles. It would be nice to be able to blame the Downworlder for making Isabelle worry.

Isabelle wasn’t scared of much, but Alec was always

Anyone sensible would know you could always

count on her dad.

once his parabatai had stolen one and they had rowed it down the Thames.

“Oh no, Brother Hop-in-the-sack-ariah,” Lily whispered. “I think we’re going to have to fight

them.”

He’s from the 1950s. Jazz baby and greaser teen take on the world.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Desist with the nicknames. They are getting worse.”

Lily laughed. “I will not. Once you go Zachariah, you ne...

Raphael and Robert Lightwood both looked appalled, but Zachariah did not mind the nicknames. He ...

What worried him was the child. We cannot allow Jonathan to be sca...

“I’m not frightened of anything,” he said.

“They’re taking you in. They won’t be unkind to you.” “I was only curious,” said Jonathan. He was clearly doing his best to sound airy and aloof, and his best was not bad. His voice almost swaggered. Brother Zachariah thought it would have convinced most people.

“I had a father,” said Jonathan, cold as the night wind.

“I’m not a kid,” said Jonathan. “I won’t bother her.” He paused and observed,