Hugo is a raven,and, as such he knows many things. I, meanwhile, am Hodge Starkweathe, a professor of history, as such, I do not know nearly enough.

A pair of werewolves occupied another booth. They were eating raw shanks of lamb and arguing about who would win in a fight: Dumbledore from Harry Potter books or Magnus Bane. "Dumbledore would totally win," said the first one. "He has the badass Killing Curse." The second lycanthrope made a trenchant point. "But Dumbledore isn't real." "I don't think Magnus Bane is real either," scoffed the first. "Have you ever met him?" "This is so weird," said Clary, slinking down in her seat. "Are you listening to them?" "No. It's rude to eavesdrop," said Jace.

It was sometimes inconvenient to have the gold-green, slit-pupilled eyes of a cat, but this was usually easily hidden with a small glamour, and if not, well, there were quite a few ladies-and men-who didn't find it a drawback.

I am not the one of us who has no heart.

We needn't talk about Tessa if you don't want to, you know." "It's not Tessa." This was true. Will hadn't been thinking of Tessa. He was getting good at not thinking about her, really; all it took was determination and practice.

And you love Sophie." Gideon's mouth tensed. "She's a mundane and a servant," said Gabriel. "I don't know what you expect to come of it, Gideon." "Nothing," Gideon said roughly. "I expect nothing. But the fact that you believe I should shows that our family brought us up to believe that we should do right only if some reward was the result.

She closed her hands around his and shut her eyes, imagining their bed cut free of this strange prison, floating through space or on the surface of the ocean, just the two of them alone.