And you love Sophie." Gideon's mouth tensed. "She's a mundane and a servant," said Gabriel. "I don't know what you expect to come of it, Gideon." "Nothing," Gideon said roughly. "I expect nothing. But the fact that you believe I should shows that our family brought us up to believe that we should do right only if some reward was the result.

He remembered Simon warning him, with wryness, that Clary had the nuclear bomb of boyfriends.

She opened her mouth to answer, but he was already kissing her. She had kissed him so many times—soft gentle kisses, hard and desperate ones, brief brushes of the lips that said good-bye, and kisses that seemed to go on for hours—and this was no different. The way the memory of someone who had once lived in a house might linger even after they were gone, like a sort of psychic imprint, her body remembered Jace. Remembered the way he tasted, the slant of his mouth over hers, his scars under her fingers, the shape of his body under her hands.

But they love each other," Clary said, appalled. "Isn't that what love means? That you're supposed to be there for the other person to turn to, no matter what?" Luke looked toward the river, at the dark water moving slowly under the light of the autumn moon. "Sometimes, Clary," he said, "love just isn't enough.

I don't want tea," said Clary, with muffled force. "I want to find my mother. And then I want to find out who took her in the first place, and I want to kill them." "Unfortunately," said Hodge, "we're all out of bitter revenge at the moment, so it's either tea or nothing.

The best lies are based on the truth, at least in part

And the Clave wants to meet Clarissa. You know that, Jace." "The Clave can screw itself." "Jace," Maryse said, sounding genuinely parental for a change. "Language." "The Clave wants a lot of things," Jace amended. "It shouldn't necessarily get them all.