Alec," Magnus said. He put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder; Alec was standing still, staring angrily at the floor. "Are you okay?" Alec looked at him. "Who are you again?" Magnus gave a little gasp; he looked — for the first time Simon could remember — actually unnerved. It lasted only a moment, but it was there. "Alexander," he said. "Too soon to joke about the happy memory thing, I take it," Alec said.

Magnus was sure that the llama stampede he witnessed was a coincidence. The llamas could not be judging him.

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.

Yes," said Will, "you two don't seem to have much in common, save for a penchant for demon women and evil.

I know what I'm asking. For you to find a needle in - God, not even a haystack. A needle in a tower of other needles." "Plunge your hand in a tower of needles," said Magnus, "and you are likely to cut yourself badly. Are you sure this is what you want?

Black for hunting through the night For death and sorrow, the color’s white Gold for a bride in her wedding gown, And red to call enchantment down.

Weapons, when they break and are mended, can be stronger at the mended places. Perhaps hearts are the same.