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.

She had a plan. Even if it was a little insane.

Simon turned to Jordan, who was lying down across the futon, his head propped against one of the woven throw pillows. "How much of that did you hear?" "Enough to gather that we're going to a party tonight," said Jordan. "I heard about the Ironworks event. I'm not in the Garroway pack, so I wasn't invited." "I guess you're coming as my date now." Simon shoved the phone back into his pocket. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to accept that," said Jordan. "We'd better get you something nice to wear, though," he called as Simon headed back into his room. "I want you to look pretty.

He would look so young. They were both so young. Tessa knew it was unusual to marry at seventeen and eighteen, but they were racing a clock. The clock of Jem's life, before it wound down.

I always wanted to be a writer since I was around 12 years old and I wrote my first book.

So you decided to help us by killing the guy we were talking to?" Clary demanded "Because you thought he had a shady past? Who- who does that? It doesnt make any sense.

How strange to have the power to literally transform yourself into other people, and yet be so unable to put yourself in their place.