Being Jem, Tessa reflected, must be a great deal like being the owner of a thouroughbred dog that liked to bite your guests. You had to have a hand on his collar constantly.

I am a badass, and I recognize that you, too, are a badass.

Everyone has something they can't live without.

I've got a stele we can use. Who wants to do me?" "A regrettable choice of words," muttered Magnus.

Well, you know, your mom gets like this sometimes," Simon said. "Like when she breathes in or out.

As the carriage whipped forward, they passed the alley she had spent so many days staring at—it was there, and then gone as they careened around a corner, nearly knocking over a costermonger pushing a donkey cart piled high with new potatoes. Tessa screamed. Will reached past her and yanked the curtain shut. "It's better if you don't look," he told her pleasantly. "He's going to kill someone. Or get us killed." "No, he won't. Thomas is an excellent driver." Tessa glared at him. "Clearly the word excellent means something else on this side of the Atlantic.

I was just wondering if you were armed. You want anything? Dagger, maybe?" He opened his own suit jacket just a bit, and Simon saw something long an metallic glinting against the inside lining. "No wonder you and Jace like each other so much. You're both crazy walking arsenals.