Now I wonder all the time how you go back after something like that. Whether we can ever be friends again, or if what we had is broken into pieces. Not because of her, but because of me.

What about Isabelle?" Simon asked. "Where is she?" The humor, such as it was, left Jace's expression. "She won't come out of her room," he said. "She thinks that what happened to Max was her fault. She won't even come to the funeral." "Have you tried talking to her?" "No," Jace said, "we've been punching her repeatedly in the face instead. Why, do you think that won't work?" "Just thought I'd ask." Simon's tone was mild.

Because that was what you did with family when you'd been worried about them, you grabbed them and held on to them and told them how much they'd pissed you off, and it was okay, because no matter how angry you got, they still belonged to you.

If I had not been a Shadowhunter, I would have had a future on the stage. I have no doubt I would have been greeted with acclaim.

His hands slipped from his throat, and he crashed to the ground like a tree falling. "Oh, dear," said Pangborn, gazing at the fallen body of his comrade with fastidious distaste. "How unpleasant.

Sometimes, when I have to do something I don't want to do, I pretend I'm a character from a book. It's easier to know what they would do.

You're killing me because you want me to give a message to God for you?" Jace shook his head, the point of the blade scraping across his throat. "You're crazier than I thought