Clary felt suddenly annoyed. "When the self-congratulatory part of the evening is over, maybe we could get back to saving my best friend from being exsanguinated to death?" "Exsanguinated," said Jace, impressed. "That's a big word." "And you're a big-" "Tsk tsk," he interupted. "No swearing in church.

She had never asked herself whether it cost him any effort. Any effort to stand between Will and the world, protecting each one of them from the other.

Not Magnus himself, who was more of a cross between a panther and a demented elf.

And quit baring your fangs at me. It's making me nervous." "Good," Simon said. "if you want to know why, it's because you smell like blood." "It's my cologne. Eau de Recent Injury." Jace raised his left hand.

Clary smiled at him with a warmth she didn’t feel. “Sebastian says I can come with you.” Jace raised his eyebrows. “Matching haircuts for everyone?” “I hope not,” said Sebastian. “I look terrible with curls.

In all Gabriel’s life he could not remember his brother giving even the prettiest of Shadowhunter girls a second glance. Yet he looked at this scarred mundane servant as if she were the sun rising. It was inexplicable, but it was also undeniable. He could see the horror on his brother’s face as Sophie’s good opinion of him shattered before his eyes.

Regret is such a pointless emotion, don't you agree?