Light like thin grey soup seeped through the windows. The door opened and Mrs. Dark came in, followed by her sister, who had no head, only the white bone of her spine protruding from her raggedly severed neck.

Clary didn't ask what that was. She was busy trying not to fall over. The ground was heaving up and down under her feet. "Jace," she said, and crumpled into him. He caught her as if he were used to catching fainting girls, as if he did it every day. Maybe he did.

Whither thou goest, I will go; Where thou diest, will I die And there will I be buried: The Angel do so to me, and more also, If aught but death part thee and me.

I always need your strength,Alec

That though he is weak, he can still burn.

She did not belong to Will-she was too much herself to belong to anyone, even Jem-but she belonged with them, and silently he cursed the Consul for not seeing it.

A lot of people feel like urban fantasy is a shortcut that gets you around world-building, because it's set "in the real world." But it doesn't really work that way, as I found out. You have to come up with just as consistent an internal cosmology and magic system as you would if you were writing high fantasy.