The City of Fallen Angels (Mortal Instruments 4)(14)

Kirk, lowering the microphone, rolled his eyes. Eric was always talking about taking the band over the top, and so far nothing had ever actually materialized. The best they’d ever done was a gig at the Knitting Factory, and only four people had come to that. And one of them had been Simon’s mom. “I don’t see how it can take us over the top if we’re not allowed to tell anyone he’s a vampire.”

“Too bad,” said Simon. He was sitting on one of the speakers, next to Clary, who was engrossed in texting someone, probably Jace. “No one’s going to believe you anyway, because look—here I am. Daylight.” He raised his arms to indicate the sunlight pouring through the holes in the roof of Eric’s garage, which was their current practice space.

“That does somewhat impact our credibility,” said Matt, pushing his bright red hair out of his eyes and squinting at Simon. “Maybe you could wear fake fangs.”

“He doesn’t need fake fangs,” said Clary irritably, lowering her phone. “He has real fangs. You’ve seen them.”

This was true. Simonhad had to whip out the fangs wheninitiallybreaking the news to the band.Atfirstthey’d thought he’d had a head injury, or a mental breakdown. After he’d flashed the fangs at them, they’d come around.

Eric had evenadmitted thathe wasn’t particularlysurprised.“Ialways knew there were vampires, dude,”he’d said. “Because, you know how there’s people you know who, like, always look the same, even when they’re, like, a hundred years old? Like David Bowie?

That’s because they’re vampires.”

Simon had drawn the line at telling them that Clary and Isabelle were Shadowhunters.

That wasn’t his secret to tell.

Nor did they know that Maia was a werewolf. They just thought that Maia and Isabelle were two hot girls who had both inexplicably agreed to date Simon. They put this down to what Kirk called his “sexy vampire mojo.” Simon didn’t really care what they called it, as long as they never slipped up and told Maia and Isabelle about each other.

So far he’d managed to successfully invite them each to alternate gigs, so they never showed up at the same one at the same time.

“Maybe you could show the fangs onstage?” Eric suggested. “Just, like, once, dude. Flash

’em at the crowd.”

“If he did that, the leader of the New York City vampire clan would kill you all,” Clary said. “You know that, right?”

She shook her head in Simon’s direction. “I can’t believe you told them you’re a vampire,” she added, lowering her voice so only Simon could hear her. “They’re idiots, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“They’re my friends,” Simon muttered.

“They’re your friends, and they’re idiots.”

“I want people I care about to know the truth about me.”

“Oh?” Clary said, not very kindly. “So when are you going to tell your mother?”

Before Simon could reply, there was a loud rap on the garage door, and a moment later it slid up, letting more autumn sunlight pour inside. Simon looked over, blinking. It was a reflex, really, left over from when he had been human. It no longer took his eyes more than a split second to adjust to darkness or light.

There was a boy standing at the garage entrance, backlit by bright sun. He held a piece of paper in his hand. He looked down at it uncertainly, and then back up at the band. “Hey,”

he said. “Is this where I can find the band Dangerous Stain?”

“We’re Dichotomous Lemur now,” said Eric, stepping forward. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Kyle,” said the boy, ducking under the garage door. Straightening up, he flipped back the brown hair that fell into his eyes and held out his piece of paper to Eric. “I saw you were looking for a lead singer.”

“Whoa,” said Matt. “We put that flyer up, like, a year ago. I totally forgot about it.”

“Yeah,” said Eric. “We were doing some different stuff back then. Now we mostly switch off on vocals. You have experience?”

Kyle—who was very tall, Simon saw, though not at all gangly—shrugged. “Not really.

But I’m told I can sing.” He had a slow, slightly drawling diction, more surfer than Southern.

The members of the band looked uncertainly at one another. Eric scratched behind his ear. “Can you give us a second, dude?”



“Sure.” Kyle ducked back out of the garage, sliding the door closed behind him. Simon could hear him whistling faintly outside. It sounded like “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain.” It wasn’t particularly in tune, either.

“I dunno,” Eric said. “I’m not sure we can use anyone new right now. ’Cause, I mean, we can’t tell him about the vampire thing, can we?”

“No,” said Simon. “You can’t.”

“Well, then.” Matt shrugged. “It’s too bad. We need a singer. Kirk sucks. No offense, Kirk.”

“Screw you,” said Kirk. “I do not suck.”

“Yes, youdo,” said Matt. “You suck big, hairy—” “Ithink,”Claryinterrupted,raising her voice, “that you should let him try out.”