He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped. "You cut me," he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critcal interest. "It might be fatal." Tessa looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you the Magister?" He tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. "Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.
Cassandra ClareGracious," said Cecily. "You must be Mr. Sallows." "Nephilim," observed the shop owner gloomily. "I detest Nephilim." "Hmph," said Cecily. "Charmed, I'm sure.
Cassandra ClareYou could know a man not by what his friends said about him, but by how he treated his servants.
Cassandra ClareI'm not sure you're quite sensible of the honor I'm doing you," Jace said. "you'll be the first mundane who has ever been inside the Institute." "Probably the smell keeps the rest of them away." - Simon, 133
Cassandra Clare