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“And this,” he said, “is what happens when Shadowhunters are wounded.” When he lowered his hand, the Mark began to sink into his skin, like a weighted object sinking into water. It left behind a ghostly reminder: a pale, thin scar, almost invisible.
“That was an iratze—a healing rune,” Jace said. “Finishing the rune with the stele activates it.”
Runes have great power and can be used to do great good—but they can be used for evil. The Forsaken are evil.”
“But why would anyone do that to themselves?” “Nobody would. It’s something that gets done to them. The Forsaken are loyal to the one who Marked them, and they’re fierce killers. They can obey simple commands, too. It’s like having a—a slave army.”
“So observant,” said Dorothea, her eyes gleaming. “The Clave really broke the mold with you.” The bewilderment on Jace’s face was fading, replaced by a dawning anger.
“Neither Clave nor Covenant have ever done anything for me,” said Madame Dorothea, her eyes flashing angrily. “I owe them nothing.”
Wtf
“Still, I think we might as well try talking to her. What have we got to lose?” “Once you’ve spent a bit more time in our world,” Jace said, “you won’t ask me that again.”
“at the Institute we have to take classes in basic medicinal uses for plants. It’s required.” “I figured all your classes were stuff like Slaughter 101 and Beheading for Beginners.” Jace flipped a page. “Very funny, Fray.”
“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.”
“Ouch,” Jace said in her ear, his tone indignant. “You elbowed me.” “Well, you landed on me.”
“He lives in a bookstore?” “He lives behind the store.”
“Do I have a choice?” “We always have choices,” Jace said.
“I was not shacking up,” Clary said, glad of the darkness as the blood rushed to her face. “And my hair is naturally blond,” said Jace. “Just for the record.”
Lol
He pointed at Jace. “Now, he’s a—what do you call people like him again?” “He’s a Shadowhunter,” Clary said. “A demon hunter,” Jace clarified. “I kill demons. It’s not that complicated, really.”
“And you kill them, too?” Simon asked, directing the question to Jace, who had put the stele back in his pocket and was examining his flawless nails for defects. “Only when they’ve been naughty.”
“Awesome?” Simon nodded enthusiastically enough to make the dark curls bounce on his forehead. “Totally. It’s like Dungeons and Dragons, but real.”
“You’ve never heard of Dungeons and Dragons?” “I’ve heard of dungeons,” Jace said. “Also dragons. Although they’re mostly extinct.”
Noo whyyy
“You’ve never killed a dragon?” “He’s probably never met a six-foot-tall hot elf-woman in a fur bikini, either,” Clary said irritably. “Lay off, Simon.”
“We?” said Jace, with a sinister delicacy. “I don’t remember inviting you along.”
“He’s a piece of work, isn’t he?” Simon muttered. “How do you stand him?” “He saved my life.”
GAMERS DO IT BETTER. OTAKU WENCH. STILL NOT KING.
chakhram,” said Jace, looking up as Clary came into the room. “A Sikh weapon. You whirl it around your index finger before releasing it. They’re rare and hard to use. Strange that Luke would have one. They used to be Hodge’s weapon of choice, back in the day. Or so he tells me.”
“Shadowhunters. In warlock robes.” “Consider this a friendly follow-up, Graymark,” said the man with the gray mustache.
“All the stories are true,” said Pangborn, and Clary felt a small shiver go up her spine. “Or have you forgotten even that?” “I forget nothing,” said Luke. Though he looked relaxed, Clary could see tension in the lines of his shoulders and mouth. “I suppose Valentine sent you?”
But if you want to know where the Mortal Cup has disappeared to…” “Disappeared might not be quite the correct word,” purred Pangborn. “Hidden, more like. Hidden by Jocelyn.”
“She has not yet regained consciousness,” said Pangborn, carving the air with a long-fingered hand. “Valentine is disappointed. He was looking forward to their reunion.” “I’m sure she didn’t reciprocate the sentiment,” muttered Luke.
Noo
“Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might have banded together. But I’m not going to try to interfere with Valentine’s plans for her, if that’s what he’s worried about.”
“Yes, Jocelyn had a daughter. Clarissa. I assume she’s run off. Did Valentine send you to find her?” “Not us,” said Pangborn. “But he is looking.”
She’s fifteen years old, she’s never heard of Valentine, and she doesn’t believe in demons.”
Until now
The Angel guard you, Lucian.” “The Angel does not guard those like me,” said Luke.
“At least now we know who would send a demon after your mother. Those men think she has the Mortal Cup.” Clary felt her lips thin into a straight line. “That’s totally ridiculous and impossible.”
“What makes you so sure? Do you know them?” The laughter had gone from his voice entirely when he replied. “Do I know them?” he echoed. “You might say that. Those are the men who murdered my father.”
“It’s a glamour, Simon,” she said. “It doesn’t really look like this.” “If this is your idea of glamour, I’m having second thoughts about letting you make me over.”
“He always says exactly what comes into his head. No filters.” “Filters are for cigarettes and coffee,” Simon muttered under his breath as they went inside. “Two things I could use right now, incidentally.”
“It’s an institute,” Clary said. “A place where Shadowhunters can stay when they’re in the city. Like a sort of combination safe haven and research facility.”
“Oh, my God,” she said with finality. “You brought another mundie here? Hodge is going to kill you.” Simon cleared his throat. “I’m Simon,” he said. Isabelle ignored him. “JACE WAYLAND,” she said. “Explain yourself.”
“I had to bring him,” Jace said. “Isabelle—today I saw two of the men who killed my father.”
“If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat,” Jace muttered. Isabelle froze, her spoon poised dangerously. “What did you say?” Jace edged toward the fridge. “I said I’m going to look for a snack to eat.” “That’s what I thought you said.” Isabelle returned her attention to the soup.
“No one wants any soup.” “I want some soup,” Simon said. “No, you don’t,” said Jace. “You just want to sleep with Isabelle.” Simon was appalled. “That is not true.” “How flattering,” Isabelle murmured
“There’s no need to be sadistic just because he isn’t one of you.” “One of us,” said Jace, but the sharp look had gone out of his eyes.
Ooohh
“Hodge,” he said. “And really Hodge this time. Bring us anywhere else, and I’ll make you into a tennis racket.” The Persian snorted
“I’m sorry. For snapping at you.” He chuckled. “Which time?” “You snap at me, too, you know.” “I know,” he said, surprising her. “There’s something about you that’s so—” “Irritating?” “Unsettling.”
Maryse—that’s Isabelle’s mother—she cooks for us. She’s an amazing cook.”
She’s always been first and foremost interested in being a fighter. She comes from a long line of women warriors,” he said, and there was a tinge of pride in his voice. “She’s one of the best Shadowhunters I’ve ever known.” “Better than Alec?”
“Hodge likes it up there. He grows medicinal plants, things we can use. Most of them only grow in Idris. I think it reminds him of home.”
“Better?” he said. “At demon-slaying? No, not really. He’s never killed a demon.” “Really?” “I don’t know why not. Maybe because he’s always protecting Izzy and me.”
“It smells like…” Springtime, she thought, before the heat comes and crushes the leaves into pulp and withers the petals off the flowers. “Home,” said Jace, “to me.” He pushed aside a hanging frond and ducked past it. Clary followed.
“We were attacked,” Jace said shortly. “Forsaken.” “Forsaken warriors? Here?” “Warrior,” said Jace. “We only saw one.” “But Dorothea said there were more,” Clary added. “Dorothea?” Hodge held a hand up. “This might be easier if you took events in order.” “Right.” Jace gave Clary a warning look,
“But while we were at his house, the two men who claimed they were emissaries of Valentine referred to him as Lucian Graymark.” “And their names were…” “Pangborn,” said Jace. “And Blackwell.” Hodge had gone very pale.
“The Circle?” he said. Hodge was shaking his head as if trying to clear cobwebs from his brain. “Come with me,” he said. “It’s time I showed you something.”
