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Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices, #1)
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message 1: by Ronna (last edited Feb 16, 2010 05:43PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Excerpts from The Clockwork Angel. I have a lot, so brace yourselves. I'm updated with Cassie's blogs and groups so there would be more later on. Enjoy!! ;D

*So, this is a lot of stuff, but you don't have to read it if you feel it's gonna spoil the book for you. It doesn't have a bunch of spoilers, but it's mostly for people who can't wait for the book, like me. So yeah. Again, you don't have to read it guys. Only if you're interested.

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments August Excerpt: From one of the middle chapters of the book, “ The Conclave”

“You can’t be serious —” Tessa began, but broke off as the door to the library opened, and Charlotte entered the room. She wasn’t alone. There were at least a dozen men following her, and — Tessa saw, as they filed into the room — two women.

Tessa gazed at them in fascination. So these were Shadowhunters — more Shadowhunters in one place than she’d ever seen before. She stared at the two women, remembering what Will had said about Boadicea, that women could be warriors as well. The taller of the women had powder-white hair wound in into a crown at the back of her head; she looked as if she were well into her sixties, and her presence was regal. The other of the women was younger, with dark hair and catlike eyes. The men were a mixed group, all in carefully tailored dark clothes: the eldest of them was an elegant-looking gentleman with an iron-gray beard and a steely gaze to match; the youngest was a boy probably no more than a year older than Jem or Will. He was handsome in a pretty sort of way, with delicate features, tousled brown hair and a watchful expression.

Jem made a noise of surprise and displeasure. “Gabriel Lightwood,” he muttered to Will, under his breath. “What’s he doing here?”

Will hadn’t moved. He was staring at the brown-haired boy with his eyebrows raised, a faint smile playing about his lips.

“Just don’t get into a fight with him, Will,” Jem added hastily. “Not here. That’s all I ask.”

“Rather a lot to ask, don’t you think?” Will said, without looking at Jem. He was watching Charlotte as she ushered everyone toward the large square table at the front of the room; she seemed to be urging everyone to settle themselves into seats around it. “Mr. Wayland,” she was saying, “and Mr. Harrowgate, here, by the head of the table, if you please. Aunt Callida — if you’d just sit over there by the map —”

“And where is George?” asked the gray-haired man, with an air of brusque politeness. “Your husband? As head of the Institute, he really ought to be here.”

Charlotte hesitated for only a fraction of a second before plastering a smile onto her face. “He’s on his way, Mr. Lightwood,” she said, and Tessa realized two things — one, that the gray-haired man was most likely the father of Gabriel Lightwood, and two, that Charlotte was lying."

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Excerpt from Chapter 7: Pale Kings and Princes
Tessa glanced out over the room. It was still dark with smoke. In among with swirls of blackness, she could see the bright flash of weapons, the Shadowhunters brandishing their angel knives, and the occasional spray of vampire blood, bright as a scatter of rubies. She realized — with a sort of shock of surprise, for the vampires, at first, had terrified her — that the vampires were clearly overmatched here; though they were vicious and fast, the Shadowhunters were nearly as fast, and had weapons and training on their side. Vampire after vampire went down below the onslaught of their seraph blades. Blood ran in sheets across the floor, soaking the edges of the Persian rugs.

The smoke cleared in a spot, and Tessa saw Charlotte in the middle of dispatching a burly vampire in a gray morning jacket; she slashed the blade of her knife across his throat, and blood sprayed across the wall behind them in a scarlet fan. He sank snarling to his knees, and Charlotte finished him with a thrust of her blade to his chest. Her expression as she did so was studious, calm and concentrated; the same look she wore when, at the breakfast table, she had read of the Devil’s Acre murders in the newspaper.

A blur of motion exploded behind her; it was Will, followed by a wild-eyed vampire — who, Tessa saw with some surprise, was brandishing a silver pistol. He pointed it at Will: aimed, and fired, Will dived out of the way, skidding across the bloody floor. He rolled to his feet, and bounded up onto a velvet-seated chair. Ducking another shot, he leaped again, and Tessa watched with amazement as he ran along the backs of a row of chairs, leaping down from the last of them; he whirled to face the vampire, now a distance from him across the room; somehow a short-bladed knife gleamed in his hand, though Tessa had not seen him draw it. He threw it — the vampire ducked aside, but was not quite fast enough; the knife sank into his shoulder. He roared in pain and was reaching for the knife when a slim, dark shadow reared up out of nowhere — there was a flash of silver — and the vampire blew apart in a shower of blood and dust. As the mess cleared, Tessa saw Jem, his dragon-headed cane still raised in his fist. He was grinning, but not at her; he kicked the silver pistol — now lying abandoned among the vampire’s remains — hard, and it skidded across the floor, fetching up at Will’s feet. Will nodded toward Jem with a return of his grin, swept the pistol off the floor with a graceful gesture and shoved it through his belt.

“Will!” Tessa called to him, though she wasn’t sure if he could hear her over the din. “Will —”

Something seized her by the back of her dress and hauled her up and backwards; it was like being caught in the talons of an enormous bird. Tessa screamed once, and found herself flung forward, skidding across the boards of the stage. She hit the stack of chairs; they crashed to the floor in a deafening mass and Tessa, sprawled among the mess, looked up with a gasp of pain.

The Russian vampire, Alexei, stood over her. His black eyes were wild, rimmed with red; his white hair straggled over his face in matted clumps, and his shirt was slashed open across the front, the edges of the tear soaked with blood. He must have been cut, though not deep enough to kill him, and had healed: the skin under the torn shirt looked unmarked now. “Bitch,” he hissed at Tessa. “Lying, traitorous bitch. You brought that boy in here. That Nephilim.”

Tessa scrambled backward; her back hit a wall of fallen chairs. “Alexei — stop —”

“De Quincey welcomed you back, even after your disgusting little — interlude — with the lycanthrope. And this is how you repay him. Repay us.” He held his hands out to her; they were streaked with black ash. “You see this,” he said. “The dust of our dead people. Dead vampires. And you betrayed them for Nephilim.” He spat the word as if it were poison.

“Alexei —” Tessa’s hands, behind her, scrabbled among the smashed chairs — surely there must be something, some broken-off piece, that she could use as a weapon. “Please don’t do this.”

“And now what?” Alexei went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. He gestured wildly toward Nathaniel. “Now you are trying to save a human — a common criminal — one who has betrayed the Night’s Children.” He advanced on her, his hands out, reaching. “I should have killed you in Livadia —”

Tessa’s fingers closed around the leg of a chair; without even thinking about it, she swung the chair up and over and brought it crashing down on Alexei’s back. Her heart soared as he yelled and staggered back. She scrambled to her feet as Alexei straightened up, and swung the chair at him again. This time a jagged bit of broken chair arm caught him across the face, opening up a long red cut. He snarled something at her in Russian — she couldn’t understand it, but from the tone of his voice, it clearly wasn’t a compliment.

“Now,” she said. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

His lips curled back from his teeth in a silent snarl, and he sprang — there was no other word for it; it was like the silent spring of a cat. He struck Tessa to the ground, landing on top of her, knocking the chair from her hand. He lunged at her throat, teeth bared, and she raked her clawed hand across his face, hitting and kicking at him. His blood, where it dripped on her, seemed to burn, like acid. She screamed and struck out at him harder, but he only laughed; his pupils had disappeared into the black of his eyes and he looked entirely unhuman, like some sort of monstrous, predatory serpent. He caught her wrists in his grasp and forced them down on either side of her, hard against the floor. “Camille,” he said, leaning down over her, his voice thick, “be still, my little Camille — it will be over in moments —”

He threw his head back like a striking cobra, and the light of the blazing candelabras sparked off his needle teeth — terrified, Tessa struggled to free her trapped legs, meaning to kick him in the stomach or the groin, kick him as hard as she could —

Alexei yelled. Yelled and writhed, and Tessa saw that there was a hand caught in his hair, yanking his head up and back, dragging him to his feet. A hand inked all over with swirling black Marks.

Will’s hand.

Alexei was hauled screaming to his feet, his hands clamped to his head. Tessa struggled upright, staring, as Will flung the howling vampire contemptuously away from him. Will wasn’t smiling any more, but his eyes were glittering, and Tessa could see why Magnus had described their color as the color of the sky in Hell.

“Nephilim.” Alexei staggered, righted himself, and spat at Will’s feet. “Murdering dog.”

“I rather like dogs,” said Will. “They’re loyal. That’s more than I can say for your kind.” He drew the pistol from his belt and aimed it at Alexei. “One of the Devil’s own abominations, aren’t you? You don’t even deserve to live in this world with the rest of us, and yet when we let you live out of pity, you throw our gift back in our faces.”

“As if we need your pity,” Alexei snarled. “As if we could ever be less than you — you Nephilim, thinking you are —” He stopped, abruptly.

“Are what?” Will cocked the pistol; the click was loud even above the noise of the battle. “Say it.”

The vampire raised his head. “Say what?”

“God,” said Will. “You were going to tell me that we Nephilim play at God, weren’t you? Except you can’t even say the word.” His finger was white on the trigger of the gun. “Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you live.”

Alexei bared his teeth. “You cannot kill me with that — that stupid human toy —”

“If the bullet passes through your heart,” Will said, his aim unwavering, “you’ll die.”

(Doesn’t fit, there’s a continuation in a minute!)

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments continuation:

Alexei raised his head. He opened his mouth. A sound came out — a sort of gasp, as he tried to speak, tried to shape a word his mind would not let him say. He gasped again, choked, and put a hand to his throat. Will began to laugh —

And the vampire sprung. His face twisted in a rictus mask of rage and pain, he leaped at Will with a howl. There was a blur of movement — the gun went off and there was a spray of blood. Will hit the floor, the pistol skidding from his grip, the vampire on top of him. Tessa scrambled to retrieve the pistol, caught it up, and turned to see that Alexei had seized Will from the back, his forearm jammed against Will’s throat, clearly meaning to strangle the life out of him.

She raised the pistol, her hand shaking — but she had never used a pistol before, never shot anything, and how to shoot the vampire without injuring Will? Will was clearly choking, his face suffused with blood. Alexei snarled something, and tightened his grip —

And Will, ducking his head, sank his teeth into the vampire’s forearm. Alexei yelled and jerked his arm away; Will flung himself to the side, choking, and rolled to his knees to spit blood onto the stage. When he looked up, glittering red blood was smeared across the lower half of his face. His teeth shone red, too, when he — Tessa couldn’t believe it — grinned, actually grinned, and looking at Alexei, said:

“How do you like it, vampire? You were going to bite me, earlier. Now you know what’s it’s like, don’t you?”

Alexei, on his knees, stared from Will to the ugly red hole in his own arm, which was already beginning to close up, though dark blood still trickled from it thinly. “For that,” he said, “you will die, Nephilim.”

Will spread his arms wide. On his knees, grinning like a demon, blood dripping from his mouth, he barely looked human himself. “Come and get me.”

Alexei gathered himself to spring — and Tessa pulled the trigger. The gun kicked back, hard, into her hand, and Alexei fell sideways, blood streaming from his shoulder. She had missed the heart. Damn it.

Alexei began to pull himself to his feet, his eyes fixed on Tessa now. She pulled the trigger on the pistol again — nothing. A soft click let her know the gun was empty.

She fell back, throwing the gun to the side.

“Tessa,” Will shouted, and she wasn’t sure if he sounded angry, or something else. He was on his feet, reaching for the gleaming weapons at his belt. His hand closed around the hilt of a seraph blade, just as Alexei reached her. He staggered, lunged for her, hands out —

And dissolved in a shower of dust and blood. With a single thin scream, he dissolved — his flesh melted away from his face and hands, and Tessa caught sight for a moment of the blackened skeleton beneath before it, too, crumbled to dust, leaving an empty pile of clothes behind. Clothes, and a gleaming silver blade.

She looked up. Jem stood a few feet away, looking very pale. He held another blade in his left hand; his right was empty. There was a long cut along one of his cheeks, but he seemed otherwise uninjured. His hair and eyes gleamed, a brutal silver in the candlelight. “I think,” he said, “that that was the last of them.”

Surprised, Tessa glanced out over the room: the chaos had subsided. Shadowhunters moved here and there in the wreckage — some were seated on chairs, being attended to by stele-wielding healers — but she could not see a single vampire. The smoke of the burning had subsided as well, though white ash from the torched curtains still floated down over the room like unexpected snow.

Will, blood still dripping from his chin, looked at Jem with his eyebrows raised. “Nice throw,” he said.

Jem shook his head. “You bit a vampire,” he said. “I saw you. You bit a vampire.”

“I had no choice,” said Will. “He was choking me.”

“I know,” Jem said. “But really, Will — again?”

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments I’m pretty sure this is chapter 1

The demon exploded in a shower of ichor and guts.

William Herondale jerked the dagger he was holding back, but it was too late: the viscous acid of the demon’s blood had already begun to eat away at the shining blade. He swore and tossed the weapon aside; it landed in a filthy puddle and commenced smoldering like a doused match. The demon itself, of course, had vanished: dispatched back to whatever hell dimension it had come from, though not without leaving a mess behind.

“Jem!” Will called, turning around. “Where are you? Did you see that? I got him with one blow! Not bad, eh?”

But there was no answer to Will’s shout; his hunting partner had been standing behind him in the narrow alley a few moments ago, guarding his back, Will was positive, but now he was alone in the shadows. Will frowned in annoyance — it was much less fun showing off without Jem to show off to. Still scowling, Will headed back toward Narrow Street and the dim gleam of gaslight at the alley’s mouth.

Narrow Street cut through the center of Limehouse, between the wharves beside the river and the cramped slums spreading east toward Whitechapel and Shadwell. It was as narrow as its name suggested and, at the moment, deserted. Limehouse was a something of a bad neighborhood, full of gambling houses, opium dens, and brothels; consequently, it was one of Will’s favorite places in London. He didn’t even mind the smell of it — smoke and dirt mixed with the river-water smell of the Thames.
He scrubbed the sleeve of his coat across his face, trying to rub away the ichor that stung and burned his skin. The cloth came away stained green and black. There was a cut on the back of his hand, too, a nasty one. He could use a healing rune. One of Jem’s, preferably — he was particularly good at drawing iratzes.

A shape detached itself from the shadows and moved toward Will. He started forward, then paused — it wasn’t Jem, but rather a mundane policeman, wearing a bell-shaped helmet and a puzzled expression. He stared at Will, or rather through Will — however accusomed you were to glamour, Will thought, it was always a strange experience being looked through as if you weren’t there. He was seized with the sudden urge to nick the policeman’s truncheon and watch while the poor fool flapped around trying to figure out where it had gone, but Jem had scolded him the few times he’d done that before and while Will never really could understand Jem’s moral objections to the whole enterprise, it wasn’t worth making him upset.

With a shrug and a blink, the policeman moved past Will, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about laying off the gin before he started really seeing things. Will stepped aside to let the man pass, and raised his voice to a shout:

“James Carstairs!” Will called, again. “Oi! Where are you, you malingering bastard?”

This time, a faint reply answered him. “Over here — follow the witchlight.”

Will moved toward the sound of Jem’s voice. It seemed to be coming from a dark opening between two warehouses; a faint gleam was visible within the shadows, like the darting light of a will-o-the-wisp. “Did you hear me before? That Shax demon thought it could get me with its bloody great pincers, but I chased it into an alley, and —”

“Yes, I heard you.” The young man who appeared at the mouth of the alley was pale in the lamplight — paler even than he usually was, which was quite pale indeed. He was bareheaded, which drew the eye immediately to his hair: it was a rare bright silver color, the shade of an untarnished coin. His eyes were the same silver, and his fine-boned face was angular, the slight curve of his eyes the only clue to his heritage.

There were dark stains across his white shirt front, and his hands were thickly smeared with red.
Will’s pulse jumped. “You’re bleeding. What happened? Are you —”
Jem waved away his concern. “It’s not my blood.” He turned his head back toward the alley behind him. “It’s hers.”

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Excerpt from Chapter 2

The knob of the bedroom door turned; the door creaked open. In the
dimness, all Tessa could see was shadows as someone stepped into the
room. She lunged forward, swinging the heavy ceramic pitcher with all
her strength —

The shadowy figure moved, quick as a whip — but not quite quick
enough; the pitcher slammed into its outstretched arm before flying
from Tessa’s grasp to crash into the far wall. Broken crockery rained
down onto the floor as the intruder yelled in pain.
To Tessa's surprise, the yell was undeniably a masculine one. So was
the flood of cursing that followed it.

She backed away, then dashed for the door — but it had slammed shut
after the intruder, and tug as she would on the knob, it wouldn’t
budge. She spun around, just as bright light blazed through the room
as if the sun had risen.

Tessa blinked away the tears in her eyes — and stared.

There was a boy standing in front of her. He couldn’t have been much more
than a few years older than she was — seventeen or possibly eighteen.
He was dressed in what looked like workman’s clothes: a frayed black
jacket and trousers, and tough-looking boots. He wore no waistcoat,
but a a thick leather belt with a number of weapons hanging off it
circled his waist — daggers and folding knives and things that looked
like blades of ice.

In his right hand, he held what looked like a sort of stone — it was shining,
providing the light in the room that had nearly blinded Tessa. His
other hand — narrow and long-fingered — was bleeding where she had
gashed the back of it with her pitcher.

But that wasn’t what had made her stare. He had the most beautiful face she
had ever seen. Tangled black hair and eyes like blue glass. A scar
across his right cheek that somehow didn’t mar his looks but only
enhanced them. He looked like every fictional hero she’d ever imagined
in her head. Except she’d never imagined one of them cursing at her
while shaking their bleeding hand in an accusing fashion.

He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped.

“You cut me,” he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary.
He looked at his hand with critical interest. "Now, is that any way to
treat someone who's just trying to rescue you?"

"Rescue me?" Tessa echoed. She blinked at him. "Who *are* you?"

"Will," he said, and held out his bleeding hand. "Will Herondale."

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments November Excerpt

*Sophie is a maid in the Institue, not a Shadowhunter

The bathtub was an oval, claw-footed affair hidden behind a Japanese
screen in a corner of the room. Sophie had filled it with hot water
that was already beginning to cool; sliding behind the screen, Tessa
undressed and lowered herself into the bath. The hot water came up to
her shoulders, warming her chilled bones: for a moment she sat with
her eyes closed, letting the heat relax her. It was then that she
remembered the rest of what had happened last night — the attic, and

She ducked under the surface of the water as if she could hide from
the humiliating memory. It didn’t work. Drowning yourself won’t help,
she told herself sternly. Now, drowning Will, on the other hand . . .

She sat up and reached for the cake of lavender soap on the edge of
the bath and scrubbed her skin and hair with it until the water turned
black with ash and dirt. Perhaps it wasn’t actually possible to scrub
away your thoughts of someone, but it seemed like a start.

Sophie was waiting for Tessa when she emerged from behind the screen,
a tray of toast and tea at the ready. She helped Tessa dress for the
day in a yellow gown trimmed with dark braid; it was fussier than
Tessa would have preferred, but Jessamine had liked it very much in
the shop and insisted that she buy it: “I can’t wear yellow, but it’s
ever so suitable for girls with dull brown hair like yours.”

The feeling of the brush going through her hair was very pleasant; it
reminded Tessa of when she had been a small girl, and Aunt Adelaide
had brushed her hair for her. It was soothing enough that when Sophie
spoke next, it jolted her slightly:

“Did you manage to get Will to take his medicine last night, Miss Tessa?”

“Oh, I — “ Tessa scrambled to collect herself, but it was too late;
scarlet color had flooded up her neck into her face. “He didn’t want
to,” she finished lamely. “But I convinced him in the end.”

“I see.” Sophie’s expression didn’t change, but the rhythmic strokes
of the brush through Tessa’s hair began to come faster. “Miss Tessa, I
know it’s not my place, but —”

“Sophie, you can say anything you want to me. I mean it.”

“It’s just — Master Will.” Sophie’s words came out in a rush. “He
isn’t someone you should care for, Miss Tessa. Not like that. He isn’t
to be trusted, or relied on. He — he isn’t what you think he is.”

Tessa clasped her hands in her lap. She felt a vague sense of
unreality — had things really gotten so far that she needed to be
warned off Will? And yet it was good to have someone to talk to about
him. She felt a bit like a starving person being offered food. “I
don’t know what I think he is, Sophie. He’s like one thing sometimes,
and then he can change completely, like the wind changing, and I don’t
know why, or what’s happened —”

“Nothing. Nothing’s happened. He just doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“He cares about Jem,” Tessa said quietly.

The brush still; Sophie had paused, frozen. There was something she
wanted to say, Tessa thought, something she was holding herself back
from saying. But what was it?"

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments December Excerpt: Tessa meets Jem

Tessa woke, gasping, the book sliding off her lap as she sat up. The dream was gone, but the music remained, high and haunting and sweet. She made her way to the door and peered out into the hallway.

The music was louder in the corridor. In fact, it was coming from the room across the hall. It was ajar slightly, and notes seemed to pour through the opening like water through the narrow neck of a vase.

As if in a dream, Tessa crossed the hall and put her hand gently to the door; it swung open under her touch. The room within was dark, lit only by moonlight — she saw that it was not unlike her own bedroom across the hall: the same large four-poster bed, the same dark heavy furniture. The curtains had been pulled back from one tall window and pale silver light poured into the room like a rain of needles. In the square patch of moonlight just before the window, someone was standing. A boy — he seemed too slight to be a grown man — with a violin propped against his shoulder: his cheek rested against it, and the bow sawed back and forth over the strings, wringing notes out of it.

His eyes were closed. “Will?” he said, without opening them or ceasing to play, “Will, is that you?”

Tessa said nothing. She could not bear to speak, to interrupt the music – but in a moment, the boy broke it off himself, lowering his bow and opening his eyes with a frown.

“Will —” he started, and then, seeing Tessa, his lips parted in surprise. “You’re not Will.”

He sounded curious, but not at all annoyed, despite the fact that Tessa had barged into his bedroom in the middle of the night and surprised him playing the violin in his nightclothes, or what Tessa assumed were his nightclothes — he wore a sort of light, loose-fitting set of trousers and a shirt with a black silk dressing-gown tied over them. She had been right: he was young, probably the same age as Will, and the impression of youth was heightened by his slightness. He was tall but very slender, and disappearing below the collar of his shirt, she could see the curling edges of the black designs that she had earlier seen on Will’s skin, and on Charlotte’s.

She knew what they were called now. Marks. And she knew what they made him. Nephilim. The descendant of men and angels. No wonder that in the moonlight his pale skin seemed to shine like Will’s witchlight stone: his hair was pale silver as well, as were his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. The noise sounded terribly harsh to her, and loud in the silence of the room; she wanted to cringe. “I — I didn’t mean to come in here like this. It’s just — my room is across the hall, and . . .”

“That’s all right.” He lowered the violin from his shoulder. “You’re Miss Gray, aren’t you? The shapechanger girl. Will told me a bit about you.”

“Oh,” Tessa said.

“Oh?” His eyebrows rose. “You don’t sound terribly pleased that I know who you are.”

“It’s just that I think Will is angry with me,” Tessa explained. “So whatever he told you —”

He laughed. “Will is angry with everyone,” he said. “I don’t let it color my judgement.”

message 9: by Ronna (last edited Feb 16, 2010 05:40PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments January Excerpt

Tessa was only halfway down the corridor when they caught up to her: Will and Jem, each walking on either side of her. "You didn’t honestly think we weren’t going to come along, did you?" Will asked, raising his hand and letting the witchlight flare up between his fingers, lighting the corridor to a daylight brightness. Charlotte hurrying along ahead of them, turned and frowned, but said nothing.

"I know you can’t leave anything well enough alone." Tessa looked straight ahead. "But I thought better of Jem."

"Where Will goes, I go," Jem said, good-naturedly. "And besides, I’m as curious as he is."

"That hardly seems a subject for boasting. Where are we going?" she added, startled, as they reached the end of the corridor. The hall stretched away behind them; there was nothing in front of them but a blank stone wall. "Have we turned the wrong way . . .?"

"Patience is a virtue, Miss Gray," said Will. "You would do well to learn it."

"If you think—" Tessa began, and broke off as Charlotte took a stele from the pocket of her voluminous skirt. It seemed to glow with a dull internal light as Charlotte placed the tip of it against the stone of the wall, and drew, as if she were scrawling on a piece of paper. A thick black line spiraled out from the tip, forming the whorls and scrolls of a strong, delicate design.

As Tessa stared, a grinding noise came from within the stone, and a section of the wall swung open, showing another long corridor beyond. The walls were bare of tapestries or torches: Tessa realized why Will had lit his witchlight stone. He raised his hand now, and the light shone down into the corridor, which Tessa could se now was sharply curving, disappearing almost instantly away into shadows.

"This is the entrance to our Sanctuary," said Charlotte. "This is the place we meet with those who for whatever reason cannot enter hallowed ground. Those who are cursed. Vampires."

She started down the corridor, the others following after her.

"Is it a curse? Being a vampire?" Tessa asked.

Charlotte shook her head. "No. We think it is a sort of demon disease. There are demons who feed on blood, and demons who, like werewolves, shift their shapes with the phases of the moon and the movement of planets. When passed to humans, these diseases manifest in what we think of as vampirism or lycanthropy. Most demon diseases aren't transmissible to humans at all, with a few exceptions—"

"Demon pox," interrupted Will.

"Will, there’s no such thing as demon pox, and you know it," Charlotte said. "Now, where was I?"

"Being a vampire isn’t a curse," Tessa filled in. "But they still can’t enter hallowed ground, then? Does that mean they’re damned?"

"That depends on what you believe," said Jem. "And whether you even believe in damnation at all."

"But you hunt demons. You must believe in damnation!"

"I believe in good and evil," said Jem. "And I believe the soul is eternal. But I don’t believe in the fiery pit, the pitchforks, or endless torment. I do not believe you can threaten people into goodness."

Tessa looked at Will. "What about you? What do you believe?"

"Pulvis et umbra sumus," said Will, not looking at her as he spoke. "I believe we are dust and shadows. What else is there?"

"Whatever you believe, please don’t suggest to Camille Belcourt that you think she’s damned," said Charlotte. She had come to a halt where the corridor ended in a set of high iron doors, each carved with a curious symbol that looked like four back-to-back C’s. She turned and looked at her three companions. "She’s very kindly offered to help us, and there’s no purpose in offering her such insults. That applies to you especially, Will. If you can’t be polite, I’ll send you out of the Sanctuary. Jem, I trust you to be your charming self. Tessa . . ." Charlotte turned her grave, kind eyes on Tessa. "Try not to be frightened."

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Oh, sorry! I can't help it. It's not like there's a bunch of spoilers, but you don't have to read. Just wanna share it to those who can't wait. ;D

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
sweet thanks for posting thisz here can't wait for more updates

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

hey it will totaly get ruined for you here

you really shouldn't read all the stuff on here yet

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
me toooooooooo!!!!!!!!!


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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
"Pulvis et umbra sumus," said Will, not looking at her as he spoke. "I believe we are dust and shadows. What else is there?"

this the
Umbra sumus
its written on the back of Isabelle's neclace

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

and since the neclace was handed down through generations someone in the ID series has to have it

Plus Cassie said that Izzy's neclace would get explained in the ID series

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

message 18: by [deleted user] (new)

It's March first!

message 19: by [deleted user] (new)

wait. right?

message 20: by [deleted user] (new)

really? Nu uh. Because I don't have school on the 5th..and the fifth is friday...

message 21: by Daylighter, Mizpah (last edited Mar 06, 2012 03:36PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
Actually it's on Monday =)

Nickie (nickiepaige) Evelyn wrote: ""Pulvis et umbra sumus," said Will, not looking at her as he spoke. "I believe we are dust and shadows. What else is there?"

this the
Umbra sumus
its written on the back of Isabelle's necklace

I GET IT :D haahahah
'cause they're SHADOWHUNTERS! AHHH.

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

message 24: by Daylighter, Mizpah (last edited Mar 06, 2012 03:38PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
here's another excerpt from Clockwork Angel:
"Tessa could not remember a time when she had not owned the clockwork angel. It had belonged to her mother once, and her mother had been wearing it when she’d died. After that it had sat in her mother’s jewelry box until her brother Nathaniel took it out one day to see if it was still in working order.
The angel was no bigger than Tessa’s pinky finger, a tiny statuette made of brass, with folded bronze wings no larger than a cricket’s, a delicate metal face with shut crescent eyelids, and hands crossed over a sword in front. A thin chain that looped beneath the wings allowed it to be worn around the neck like a locket..."

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Ooohhh!!!! Where did you find this?

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
Sweet thatks for posting it

yea where did you get it?

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Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
it was a cookie Cassie gave to Vivi to put on her hebelmet's shop. we were suppose to "find it". it was under one of her pictures:

Catherine | 6 comments This is just cruel! I never read excerpts from books because I don't want to ruin it, I need to read the whole book not just bits of it! But this is really tempting...

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
New one guys

“There was something particular and beautiful about the way the stele scrawled – not like ink flowing from a pen, but more as if the lines had always been there, and Will was uncovering them.”

Jazmyn Burton | 96 comments =D

message 31: by Daylighter, Mizpah (last edited Mar 06, 2012 03:37PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
i don't remember where i read that before, but it's cool =)

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Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
here's the June cookie (part of it was posted before as a quote):

Will went back to scrubbing dried vampire blood off his hands and arms. The task was absorbing enough that he was able to almost completely ignore Gabriel Lightwood when the other boy appeared out of the shadows and sauntered over to Will, a superior smile plastered on his face.

"Nice work in there, Herondale, setting the place on fire," Gabriel observed. "Good thing we were there to clean up after you, or the whole plan would have gone down in flames, along with the shreds of your reputation."

"Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?" Will demanded with mock horror. "Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not doing something wrong, as the case may be." He banged on the side of the carriage. "Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel! I seek scandal and low companionship."

Thomas snorted and muttered something that sounded like "bosh," which Will ignored.

Gabriel’s face darkened. "Is there anything that isn’t a joke to you?"

"Nothing that comes to mind."

"You know," Gabriel said, "there was a time I thought we could be friends, Will."

"There was a time I thought I was a ferret," Will said, "but that turned out to be the opium haze. Did you know it had that effect? Because I didn’t."

Jazmyn Burton | 96 comments Will is awesome! =D

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

i cant wait to read that book!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jazmyn Burton | 96 comments Me either, It's going to be great!

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
Yes Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

and after i read the reviews linked to Cassies Blog
i want to read them even more!!!!!!!!!!

message 37: by Amelle, The Shadowhunter (last edited Jul 13, 2010 04:54PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
"One must always be careful of books'" said Tessa, "and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us."

"I'm not sure a book has ever changed me," said Will, "Well, there was this one volume that promises to teach one how to turn oneself into an entire flock of sheep--"

"Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry," said Tessa, determined not to let him run of wildly with the conversation.

Jazmyn Burton | 96 comments Sa-weet!

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

Wendes | 54 comments in the city of glass soft cover there are excerpts of the clockwork angel and city of fallen angels, good stuff :)

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Lora Savchova (luxuria) | 39 comments The first chapter from The Clockwork Angel! Gosh, can't wait already. Love the beginning. Love Will and Jem and Tessa.
Here's the link to Simon and Schuster's site, too long to post it here.
Chapter one

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Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Clockwork Angel, page 191

Jem shook his head. "I don't think so. Perhaps you are the sort who would sacrifice yourself on the altar of principle, but I doubt it. Most of us do things for reasons that are more purely personal. For love, or for hate."

"Or for revenge," Will said. "After all, you've known about what was going on for a year now, and you only just came to us."

"That was because of Miss Gray."

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Clockwork Angel: page 89

I assumed you'd have questions about Shadowhunters, given that you're currently inhabiting our sanctum sanctorum, so to speak. That book ought to tell you anything you want to know-about us, about our history, even about Downworlders like you." Will's face turned grave. "Be careful with it, though. It's six hundred years old and the only copy of it's kind. Losing or damaging it is punishable by death under the Law."

Tessa thrust the book away from her as if it were on fire. "You can't be serious."

"You're right. I'm not." Will leaped down from the ladder and landed lightly in front of her. "You do believe everything I say, though, don't you? Is it because I have a a trustworthy sort of face?"

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Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Clockwork Angel: page 105-106; Tessa, Jem and Will

"I was dreaming too," she said. "I dreamed about your music."

He grinned. "A nightmare, then?"

"No. It was lovely. The loveliest thing I've heard since I came to this horrible city."

"London isn't horrible," Jem said equably. "You simply have to get to know it. You must come with e out into London someday. I can show you the parts of it that are beautiful-that I love."

"Singing the praises of our fair city?" a light voice inquired. Tessa whirled, and saw Will, leaning against the frame of the doorway. The light from the corridor behind him outlined his damp-looking hair with gold. The hem of his dark overcoat and his black boots were edged with mud, as if he had just come from outdoors, and his cheeks were flushed. He was bareheaded as always. "We treat you well here, don't we James? I doubt I'd have that kind of luck in Shanghai. What do you call Brits there, again?"

"Yang guizi," said Jem, who appeared unsurprised by Will's sudden appearance. "Foreign devils."

"Hear that Tessa? I'm a foreign devil. So are you." Will unhitched himself from the doorway and sauntered into the room. He flung himself down onto the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his coat. It had a shoulder cap attached to it, very elegant, and lined in blue silk.

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
i know need to read them!!!!!!!

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Clockwork Angel, pages 87-88, Tessa & Will

"This is the great library," said Will. "Every institute has a library, but this one is the largest of them all-the largest in the West, at any rate." He leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. "I said I would get you more books, didn't I?"

Tessa was so startled that he remembered what he had said, that it took her several seconds to respond. "But the books are all behind bars!" she said. "Like a literary sort of prison!"

Will grinned. "some of these books bite," he said. "It's wise to be careful."

"One must always be careful with books," said Tessa, "and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us."

"I'm not sure a book has ever changed me," said Will. "Well there is one volume that promised to each one how to urn oneself into an entire flock of sheep-"

"Only the weak minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry," said Tessa, determined not to let him run wildly off with the conversation.

"Of course, why one would want to be an entire flock of sheep is another matter entirely, "Will finished. "Is there something you want to read here, Miss Gray, or is there not? Name it, and I shall attempt to free it from it's prison for you."

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Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Clockwork Angel, pages 81-81; Tessa and Will

Sometimes the torches flared up and then faded as she passed, as if responding to some peculiar stimulus she couldn't see. This particular corridor was fairly dim. She picked her way to the end of it carefully, where it branched into two more, each identical to this one.

"Lost?" inquired a voice behind her. A slow, arrogant voice, immediately familiar.


Tessa turned and saw that he was leaning carelessly against the wall behind her, as if he were lounging in a doorway, his feet in their scuffed boots crossed in front of him. He held something in his hand: his glowing stone. He pocketed it as she looked at him, dosing it's light.

"You ought to let me show you around the Institute a bit, Miss Gray," he suggested. "You know, so you don't get lost again."

Tessa narrowed her eyes at him.

"Of course, you can simply continue wandering about on your if you really wish to," he added. "I ought to warn you, though, that there are at least three or four doors in the Institute that you really shouldn't open....."

Ronna (ronna15) | 37 comments Clockwork Angel, page 259; Tessa and Will

He caught her wrists in his grasp and forced them down on either side of her, hard against the floor. "Camille," he said, leaning down over her, his voice thick. "Be still, little Camille. It will be over in moments-"

He threw his head back like a striking cobra. Terrified, Tessa struggled to free her trapped legs, meaning to kick him, kick him as hard as she could-

He yelled. Yelled and writhed, and Tessa saw that there was a hand caught in his hair, yanking his head up and back, dragging him to his feet. A hand inked all over with swirling black Marks.

Will's hand.

De Quincey was hauled screaming to his feet, his hands clamped to his head. Tessa struggled upright, staring, as Will flung the howling vampire contemptuously away from him. Will wasn't smiling anymore, but his eyes were glittering, and Tessa could see why Magnus had described their color as the sky in Hell.

"Nephilim." De Quincey staggered, righted himself, and spat at Will's feet. "Murdering dog."

"I rather like dogs," said Will. "That's more I can say for your kind."

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Shel (cinderblizzerd) | 212 comments does any 1 no what part of the book will and tessa stop being all miss.gray and mr.watshisname?

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
William Herondale

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