And indeed it was, the arrow still protruding from its wet, grayish skin, humping its body along with incredible speed. A flick of its tail caught the edge of a statue, sending it flying into the dry ornamental pool, where it shattered into dust. “By the Angel, it just crushed Sophocles,” noted Will. “Has no one respect for the classics these days?

You know, when someone prefers their own brother over you, it isn't a confidence booster.

Dear me," said Will, and he took another bite of his apple. "Is it because I'm better-looking than you?

I think' she said, choosing her words with care, ; that any good impulse can be twisted into something evil.

But Clary never found out what it wasn't, because there was a cry of "Jace!" and Alec appeared, breathless from pushing his way through the crowd to get them. His dark hair was a mess and there was blood on his clothes, but his eyes were bright with a mixture of relief and anger. He grabbed Jace by the front of his jacket. "What happened to you?" Jace looked affronted. "What happened to me?" Alec looked at him, not lightly. "You said you were going for a walk! What kind of walk takes six hours?" "A long one?" Jace suggested.

Well, it seems a bit silly, looking there,” said Will. “It’s not like Mortmain’s going to lodge a complaint against the Shadow-hunters through official channels. ‘Very upset Shadowhunters refused to all die when I wanted them to. Demand recompense. Please mail cheque to A. Mortmain, 18 Kensington Road—

Henry patted Charlotte’s shoulder anxiously. “Would you like a cool cloth? What can I do to help?” “You could ride up to Yorkshire and chop that old goat’s head off.” Charlotte sounded mutinous. “Won’t that make things rather awkward with the Clave?” asked Henry. “They’re not generally very receptive about, you know, beheadings and things.