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Cassandra Clare -
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Clary closed her eyes. Remembering the way Jace had looked at her the night she'd freed Ithuriel, she couldn't help but imagine the way he'd look at her now if he saw her trying to lie down to die on the sand beside him. He wouldn't be touched, wouldn't think it was a beautiful gesture. He'd be angry at her for giving up. He'd be so—disappointed.
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What's your name, then? Tessa looked at him in disbelief. What's my name? Don't you know it?
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Will looked horrified. "What kind of monster could possibly hate chocolate?
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With a sigh she reached into her pocket and drew out a small velvet bag, which upended on the table. Two gold rings fell out, landing with a soft clink. Simon looked at them puzzled. "You want to get married?
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And so what? I just killed a demon in my own house, and you're going to be a dickhead about it because I'm not some spoiled-rotten rich brat like you and your sister?" Alec looked astonished. "What did you call me?
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Magnus looked at her meditatively. 'I think,' he said, 'there isn't much that Jace wouldn't do for you, if you asked him.' Clary opened her mouth and then shut it again. She thought of the way Magnus had always seemed to know how Alec felt about Jace, how Simon felt about her. Her feelings for Jace must be written on her face even now, and Magnus was an expert reader. She glanced away.
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Everyone knows that quote because of the Doors." Jace looked at her blankly. "The Doors. They were a band." "If you say so," he said. "I suppose you don't have much time for enjoying music," Clary said, thinking of Simon, for whom music was his entire life, "in your line of work." He shrugged. "Maybe the occasional wailing chorus of the damned.
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But they love each other," Clary said, appalled. "Isn't that what love means? That you're supposed to be there for the other person to turn to, no matter what?" Luke looked toward the river, at the dark water moving slowly under the light of the autumn moon. "Sometimes, Clary," he said, "love just isn't enough.
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She looked out then, through the crowd, and saw Simon with the Lightwoods, looking at her across the empty space that separated them. It was the same way that Jace had looked at her at the manor. It was the one thread that bound these two boys that she loved so much, she thought, their one commonality: They both believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself.
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Simon looked at Jordan who was looking at Maia again. She had her back to them and was talking to Luke and Jocelyn, laughing, flinging her curly hair back. "Don't even think about it," Simon said, and got up. He pointed at Jordan. "You stay here." "And do what?" "Whatever Praetor Lupas do in this situation. Meditate. Contemplate your Jedi powers. Whatever.
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They were frightening enough, but Tessa could not help but feel that if Will were there, he would have commented that they looked like turnips, and perhaps made up a song about it.
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Before Clary could respond, Jace's eyes slid open. He looked up at the warlock, dazzled and dizzy. What are you doing here? Magnus grinned down at Jace, and his teeth sparkled like sharpened diamonds. Hey roommate, he said.
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What happened to you? Jace looked affronted. What happened to me? Alec shook him, not lightly. You said you were going for a walk! What kind of walk takes six hours? A long one? Jace suggested.
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Were you hugging Clary?" He looked at Sebastian in amazement. Sebastian shrugged. "She's my sister. I'm pleased to see her." "You don't hug people," Jace said. "I ran out of time to bake a casserole.
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I take your hand, brother, so that you may go in peace. Will had opened his blue eyes that never lost their colour over all the passing years, and looked at Jem and then Tessa, and smiled, and died, with Tessa's head on his shoulder and and his hand in Jem's.
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Will only looked at her. There had been light in his eyes on the stairs, as he'd locked the door, when he'd kissed her—a brilliant, joyous light. And it was going now, fading like the last breath of someone dying. She thought of Nate, bleeding to death in her arms. She had been powerless then, to help him. As she was now. She felt as if she were watching the life bleed out of Will Herondale, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
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Clary grinned at Luke. So you're not moving to Idris, I take it? Nah, he said. He looked as happy as she'd ever seen him. The pizza here is terrible.
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I'm Magnus Bane." he went on in a soothing tone, stretching out his ringed hands. Blue sparks had begun to dance between them like bioluminescence dancing water. "I'm the warlock who's here to cure you. Didn't they tell you I was comming?" "I know who you are, but..." Maia looked dazed. "You look so... so... shiny.
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But the person who stepped out of the front door was tall and thin, with short, spiky dark hair. he was wearing a gold mesh vest and a pair of silk pajama pants. He regarded Clary with mild interest, puffing gently on a fantastically large pipe as he did so. Though he looked nothing at all like a Viking, he was instantly and totally familiar. Magnus Bane
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Will looked up in apparent relief when Charlotte and Tessa came in. "Will," Charlotte said, "You remember Miss Gray?" "My recollection of her," said Will, "is most vivid indeed.
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What? Simon looked alarmed. I'm not really sleeping with your mom, you know. I was just trying to get your attention. Not that your mom isn't a very attractive woman for her age.
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Jace, on the other hand, looked like the sort of boy who'd come over to your house and burn it down for kicks.
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Magnus sighed. "Alexander, I've been alive for hundreds of years. I've been with men, been with women - with faeries and warlocks and vampires, and even a djinn or two." He looked sideways at Maryse, who looked mildly horrified. "Too much information?
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I think you ought to let me take poor Tessa into town to get some new clothes. Otherwise, the first time she takes a deep breath, that dress will fall right off her." Will looked interested. "I think she should try that out now and see what happens.
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He looked back at her, and when she saw the look on his face, she saw his eyes at Renwick's, when he had watched the Portal that separated him from his home shatter into a thousand irretrievable pieces. He held her gaze for a split second, then looked away from her, the muscles in his throat working.
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Alec looked horrified, as if she'd asked him to put on a tutu and execute a perfect pirouette.
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She turned and looked at him. "Ducks?" she said again. A smile tugged the edge of his mouth. "I hate ducks. Don't know why. I just always have.
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She'd been impressed by his looks at first—those sharply planed cheekbones and those black, fathomless eyes—but his affable, sympathetic personality grated on her now. She didn't like boys who looked as if they never got mad about anything. In Isabelle's world, rage equaled passion equaled a good time.
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She looked around. They had drifted far away from the bank of the canal. "Are we stealing this boat?" "Stealing' is such an ugly word," he mused. "What do you want to call it?" He picked her up and swung her around before putting her down. "An extreme case of window-shopping.
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I used to think if I married Master Jem— Sophie picked at the blanket, then looked up and smiled bleakly. You haven't broken his heart yet, have you? No, Tessa said. Just torn my own in two. I haven't broken his heart at all.
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I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.
Abraham Lincoln
Cassandra Clare
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Born:
July 27, 1973
(age 51)
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