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September 5 - September 17, 2024
But that wasn’t what made her stare. He had the most beautiful face she had ever seen. Tangled black hair and eyes like blue glass. Elegant cheekbones, a full mouth, and long, thick lashes. Even the curve of his throat was perfect. He looked like every fictional hero she’d ever conjured up in her head. Although she’d never imagined one of them cursing at her while shaking his bleeding hand in an accusing fashion.
“My name is Herondale,” the boy said cheerfully. “William Herondale,
“I am Charlotte Branwell, head of the London Institute, and this beside me is Brother Enoch—”
Shadowhunter. What the Dark Sisters had called Will Herondale. Will. “I was—Will was
“The Nephilim do not trap Downworlders under duress. The Accords forbid it.” “The Accords?”
You are Eidolon, Theresa Gray. Shape-changer. But not of a sort that is familiar to me. There is no demon’s mark on you. Shape-changer.
“One must always be careful of books,” said Tessa, “and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.”
“I should have introduced myself earlier,” he said. “I’m James Carstairs. Please call me Jem—everyone does.”
Lady Belcourt raised her arms to clasp the necklace around her throat. “Magnus Bane.” “The warlock?” Charlotte’s eyebrows rose.
This is your true self, Tessa. This power is who you are. Whoever loves you now—and you must also love yourself—will love the truth of you.”
“Of course they are,” said Magnus. His eyes reflected light like a cat’s as they surveyed the room. “Look at him. The face of a bad angel and eyes like the night sky in Hell. He’s very pretty, and vampires like that. I can’t say I mind either.” Magnus grinned. “Black hair and blue eyes are my favorite combination.”
Lilith’s Children, known also by the name warlocks, are, in the manner of mules and other crossbreeds, sterile. They cannot produce offspring. No exceptions to this rule have been noted. . . .
It is as great a thing to love as it is to be loved. Love is not something that can be wasted.”
Friendship is one mind in two bodies.
Gideon was steady—his gaze, his voice, the way he held himself. She remembered what it felt like to have those steady arms around her, and shivered involuntarily.
“I speak Spanish when I’m in a good mood,” he said. “You might as well know that about me.” “So it wasn’t that you were so weary of my ineptitude that you were wishing to hurl yourself off the roof?” “Just the opposite.”
“Sophie? Might I ask you something?” She knew she should correct him, ask him to call her Miss Collins, but she didn’t. “I—yes?” “Whatever happens with the lessons—might I see you again?”
He is a good man Sophie
“The half-caste is correct. The curse was false. Your sister died because I struck her with my stinger.” It swished its yellowish tail back and forth, and Will remembered Ella knocked to the ground by that tail, the blade skittering from her hand. “There has never been a curse on you, Will Herondale. Not one put there by me.”
“You cannot save every fallen bird,” said Woolsey, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. “Even the handsome ones.” “One will do,” said Magnus, and, as Will was no longer within his sight, he let the front door fall shut.
Gabriel had merely moved the pen across the page. He was beginning to suspect that behind his brother’s dour facade lay an unsung comic genius.
“A very magnanimous statement, Gideon,” said Magnus. “I’m Gabriel.” Magnus waved a hand. “All Lightwoods look the same to me—”
“But—,” Gabriel began. “Silence,” Charlotte said. “I am the head of the Institute; you will remember who saved you from your father and show me respect.” “That’s putting Gideon in his place, all right,” Magnus said with satisfaction.
He had rarely looked at Will’s face without wanting to hit it, but Cecily’s face was endlessly fascinating. He found himself wanting to write poetry about how her blue eyes were like starlight and her hair like night, because “night” and “starlight” rhymed, but he had a feeling the poem wouldn’t turn out that well, and
Magnus removed the cork. “It seems very fine to me,” he said, and on a whim he poured it upon his hand. It coated his brown skin, gloving one hand in shimmering luminescence. “And in addition to its practical uses, it would seem to work for cosmetic purposes. This powder would make my very skin glimmer for eternity.” Henry frowned. “Not eternity,” he said, but then he brightened. “But I could make you up another batch whenever you please!” “I could shine at will!” Magnus grinned at Henry. “These
She is my great-granddaughter.” He raised his chin, his watery, pale eyes rimmed with red. “I ask only one thing of you, Charlotte. When you find Tessa Gray, and you will find her, tell her she is welcome to the name of Starkweather.”
Everyone but Henry and Magnus looked at the Portal with refreshed alarm. “Henry . . .,” Charlotte began. “Well, I think Henry and Magnus should go first,” Gabriel said. “They invented the blasted thing.” Everyone turned on him. “It’s like he’s replaced Will,” said Gideon, eyebrows up. “They say all the same sort of things.” “I am not like Will!” Gabriel snapped.
“It does not matter. We are Shadowhunters, and our duty is to each other and to what we think is right. We believe Will, and we believe in Will. Faith has brought us this far; it will bring us a little farther. The Angel watches over us, and we shall win out.”
I am Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal. “Joyeuse was Charlemagne’s sword,” said Will, his voice still stiff in that way that Tessa knew now meant that he was forcing down emotion. “Durendal was Roland’s. This sword is—it is of legend born.” “Forged by the first Shadowhunter weapons maker, Wayland the Smith. It has a feather from the wing of the Angel in its hilt,” said Elias. “It has been in the Carstairs family for hundreds of years.
