I don't know who Azazel is," he said. "Isn't he the cat from The Smurfs?" He cast about , but Isabelle just looked up and rolled her eyes at him. "Clary?" he thought Her voice came through, tinged with alarm. "What is it? What happened? Did my mom find out I'm gone?" "Not yet," he thought back. "Is Azazel the cat from The Smurfs?" There was a long pause. "That's Azrael, Simon. And no more using the magic rings for Smurf questions.

I don't do what I'm told, but I might do what you want if you ask me nicely.

Well, I'm certainly not Ragnor Fell the exotic dancer.

There walked warlocks in all their bat-winged, cat-eyed glory, and here, as they swung out over the river, she saw the darting flash of multicolored tails under the silvery skin of the water, the shimmer of long, pearl-strewn hair, and heard the high, rippling laughter of the mermaids.

No matter what the price offered, no Downworlder would fail to listen to a warning against one of the nephilim.

Tessa is gone, and every moment she is gone is a knife ripping me apart from the inside.

One of the things he'd always loved about Clary was how easily caught up in her imagination she was, how easily she could wall herself away in illusory worlds of curses and princes and destiny and magic.