The City of Fallen Angels (Mortal Instruments 4)(41)

“Won’t do what again? Make that particular rune? I have no doubt you won’t, but I’m not sure that addresses the problem.” Luke drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You have an ability, Clary. A great ability. But you have absolutely no idea what it means.

You’re totally untrained. You know almost nothing about the history of runes, or what they have meant to Nephilim through the centuries. You can’t tell a rune designed to do good from one designed to do harm.”

“You were happy enough to let me use my power when it was the binding rune,” she said angrily. “You didn’t tell me not to create runes then.”

“I’m not telling you not to use your power now. In fact, I think the problem is that you so rarely do use it. It’s not as if you’re using your power to change your nail polish color or make the subway come when you want it. You use it only in these occasional life-and-death moments.”



“The runes only come to me in those moments.”

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t yet been trained in how your power works. Think of Magnus; his power is a part of him. You seem to think of yours as separate from you.

Something that happens to you. It’s not. It’s a tool you need to learn to use.”

“Jace said Maryse wants to hire a rune expert to work with me, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Yes,” said Luke, “I imagine Maryse has other things on her mind.” He took the key out of the ignition and sat for a moment in silence. “Losing a child the way she lost Max,” he said. “I can’t imagine it. I should be more forgiving of her behavior. If something happened to you, I . . .”

His voice trailed off.

“I wish Robert would come back from Idris,” said Clary. “I don’t see why she has to deal with all this alone. It must be horrible.”

“Many marriages break up when a child dies. The married couple can’t stop blaming themselves, or each other. I imagine Robert is gone precisely because he needs space, or Maryse does.”

“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.”





PRAETOR LUPUS


The bottle slid out of Simon’s hand and crashed to the floor, where it shattered, sending shards flying in all directions. “Kyle’s a werewolf?”

“Of course he’s a werewolf, you moron,” said Jace. He looked at Kyle. “Aren’t you?”

Kyle said nothing. The relaxed good humor had gone out of his expression. His hazel eyes were as hard and flat as glass. “Who’s asking?”

Jace moved away from the window. There was nothing overtly hostile in his demeanor, and yet everything about him implied a clear threat. His hands were loose at his sides, but Simon remembered the way he had seen Jace, before, explode into action with almost nothing, it seemed, between thought and response. “Jace Lightwood,” he said. “Of the Lightwood Institute. What pack are you sworn to?”

“Jesus,” said Kyle. “You’re a Shadowhunter?” He looked at Simon. “The cute redheaded girl who was with you in the garage—she’s a Shadowhunter too, isn’t she?”

Taken aback, Simon nodded.

“You know, some people think Shadowhunters are just myths. Like mummies and genies.” Kyle grinned at Jace.



“Can you grant wishes?”

The fact that Kyle had just called Clary cute did not seem to have endeared him to Jace, whose face had tightened alarmingly. “That depends,” he said. “Do you wish to be punched in the face?”

“My, my,” said Kyle. “And I thought you all were so gung ho for the Accords these days—”

“The Accords apply to vamps and lycanthropes with clear alliances,” interrupted Jace.

“Tell me what pack you’re sworn to, or I’ll have to assume you’re rogue.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Simon said. “Both of you, stop acting like you’re about to hit each other.” He looked at Kyle. “You should have told me you were a werewolf.”

“I didn’t notice you telling me you’re a vampire. Maybe I thought it was none of your business.”

Simon’s whole body jerked with surprise. “What?” He glanced down at the shattered glass and blood on the floor.

“I didn’t—Idon’t—”

“Don’t bother,” Jace said quietly. “He can sense you’re a vampire. Just like you’ll be able to sense werewolves and other Downworlders when you’ve had a bit more practice. He’s known what you are since he met you. Isn’t that true?” He met Kyle’s icy hazel eyes with his own. Kyle said nothing. “And that stuff he’s growing on the balcony, by the by?

That’s wolfsbane. Now you know.”

Simon crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Kyle. “So what they hell is this?

Some sort of setup? Why did you ask me to live with you? Werewolves hate vampires.”