City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments, #6)(29)

“Well, I want my little brother back,” said Isabelle, her voice rising. “Don’t they understand what Sebastian did? He killed them. He killed what was human about them, and he left demons walking around in skin-suits that look like people we used to know, that’s all—”

“Keep it down,” Alec said, in his determined-older-brother tone. “You know Mom and Dad are in the house, right? They’ll come up.”

“Oh, they’re here,” said Isabelle. “About as far away from each other, bedroom-wise, as you could possibly be, but they’re here.”

“It’s not our business where they sleep, Isabelle.”

“They’re our parents.”

“But they have their own lives,” said Alec. “And we have to respect that and stay out of it.” His expression darkened. “A lot of people split up when they have a child who dies.”

Isabelle gave a little gasp.

“Izzy?” Alec seemed to realize he’d gone too far. Mentions of Max seemed to devastate Isabelle more than they did any of the other Lightwoods, even Maryse.

Isabelle turned and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Alec shoved his fingers into his hair, causing it to stick up like duck fluff. “Goddammit,” he swore, and then flushed—Alec hardly ever swore, and usually when he did, he muttered. He shot Jace an almost apologetic look and went after his sister.

Jace sighed, swung his long legs off the bed, and stood up. He stretched like a cat, cracking his shoulders. “Guess that’s my cue to walk you home.”

“I can find my way back—”

He shook his head, grabbing his jacket off the bedpost. There was something impatient about his movements, something prowling and watchful that made Clary’s own skin prickle. “I want to get out of here anyway. Come on. Let’s go.”



“It’s been an hour. At least an hour. I swear,” Maia said. She was lying on the couch in Jordan and Simon’s apartment, her bare feet in Jordan’s lap.

“Shouldn’t have ordered Thai,” said Simon absently. He was sitting on the floor, fiddling with the Xbox controller. It hadn’t been working for several days. There was a Duraflame log in the fireplace. Like everything else in the apartment the fireplace was poorly maintained, and half the time the room would fill with smoke when they used it. Jordan was always complaining of the cold, the cracks in the windows and walls, and the landlord’s disinterest in fixing anything. “They never come on time.”

Jordan grinned good-naturedly. “What do you care? You don’t eat.”

“I can drink now,” Simon pointed out. It was true. He’d trained his stomach to accept most liquids—milk, coffee, tea—though solid food still made him retch. He doubted the drinks did anything much for him in the way of nutrition; only blood seemed to do that, but it made him feel more human to be able to consume something in public that wouldn’t send everyone screaming. With a sigh he dropped the controller. “I think this thing is broken. Permanently. Which is great, because I have no money to replace it.”

Jordan looked at him curiously. Simon had brought all his savings from home when he’d moved in, but that hadn’t been much. Fortunately, he also had few expenses. The apartment was on loan from the Praetor Lupus, who also provided Simon’s blood. “I’ve got money,” Jordan said. “We’ll be fine.”

“That’s your money, not mine. You’re not going to be watching me forever,” Simon said, staring into the blue flames of the fireplace. “And then what? I’d be applying for college soon if—everything hadn’t happened. Music school. I could learn, get a job. No one’s going to employ me now. I look sixteen; I always will.”

“Hm,” Maia said. “I guess vampires don’t really have jobs, do they? I mean, some werewolves do—Bat’s a DJ, and Luke owns that bookstore. But vampires are all in clans. There aren’t really vampire scientists.”

“Or vampire musicians,” said Simon. “Let’s face it. My career is now professional vampire.”

“I’m actually kind of surprised the vampires haven’t been rampaging through the streets, eating tourists, what with Maureen leading them,” said Maia. “She’s pretty bloodthirsty.”

Simon made a face. “I assume some of the clan are trying to control her. Raphael, probably. Lily—she’s one of the smartest of the vampire clan. Knows everything. She and Raphael were always thick as thieves. But I don’t exactly have vampire friends. Considering what a target I am, sometimes I’m surprised I have any friends.”

He heard the bitterness in his own voice and glanced across the room at the pictures Jordan had tacked up on the wall—pictures of himself with his friends, at the beach, with Maia. Simon had thought of putting up his own photos. Though he hadn’t taken any from his house, Clary had some. He could have borrowed them, made the apartment more his own. But though he liked living with Jordan and felt comfortable there, it wasn’t home. It didn’t feel permanent, as if he could make a life there.

“I don’t even have a bed,” he said out loud.

Maia turned her head toward him. “Simon, what is this about? Is it because Isabelle left?”

Simon shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, yes, I miss Izzy, but—Clary says the two of us need to DTR.”