He’s not feeling well,” Clary said, catching at Simon’s wrist. “We’re going.” “No,” Simon said. “No, I — I need to talk to him. To the Inquisitor." Robert reached into his jacket and drew out a crucifix. Clary stared in shock as he held it up between himself and Simon. “I speak to the Night’s Children Council representative, or to the head of the New York clan,” he said. “Not to any vampire who comes to knock at my door —“ Simon reached out and plucked the cross out of Robert’s hand. “Wrong religion,” he said.

We may not be all that bright, Jace said, but at least we are alive.

Oh, come on," Clary said. "You're a vampire, not Spider-Man.

Why should I tell you everything about how I feel when you never tell me anything?

That sounds terrific, thought Cary, just you, your comatose wife your shell-shocked son, and your daughter who hates your guts. Not to mention that your two kids may be in love with each other. Yeah, that sounds like a perfect family reunion.

The law is hard but it is the law.

It won't be pleasant." "Nothing ever is.