Simon remembered a rhyme his mother used to recite to him, about magpies. You were supposed to count them and say: one for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret that's never been told. "Right," simon said. He had already lost count of the numbers of birds there were. Seven, he guessed. A secret that's never been told. Whatever that was.

I think of myself as a freewheeling bisexual," added Magnus. "Please never say those words in front of my parents," said Alec.

So I lied to you last night. I said that I just wanted one night with you. But I want every night with you.

Everything we need to know is locked up in your head, under those pretty red curls." Clary reached up to touch her hair protectively. "I dont think-" "So what are you going to do?" Simon asked sharply. "Cut her head open to get at it?

As far as I’m concerned, this is the worst thing that’s happened since I found out why Magnus was banned from Peru.

But you hate poetry! Yes, but you make me want to write it.

So here’s where they put you. I didn’t think they even used these cells anymore.” He glanced sideways. “I got the wrong window at first. Gave your friend in the next cell something of a shock. Attractive fellow, what with the beard and the rags. Kind of reminds me of the street folk back home.