CITY OF BONES

“I’m not kidding,” she said. “We know where the Mortal Cup is, and we’re prepared to go get it. The only thing is, we need a car.”


He laughed again. “Sorry, are you telling me that your demon-slaying buddies need to be driven to their next assignation with the forces of darkness by my mom?”

“Actually, I thought you could ask Eric if you could borrow the van.”

“Clary, if you think that I—”

“If we get the Mortal Cup, I’ll have a way to get my mom back. It’s the only reason Valentine hasn’t killed her or let her go.”

Simon let out a long, whistling breath. “You think it’s going to be that easy to make a trade? Clary, I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. I just know it’s a chance.”

“This thing is powerful, right? In D&D it’s usually better not to mess with powerful objects until you know what they do.”

“I’m not going to mess with it. I’m just going to use it to get my mom back.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Clary.”

“This isn’t D&D, Simon!” she half-screamed. “It’s not a funny game where the worst thing that happens is you get a bad dice roll. This is my mom we’re talking about, and Valentine could be torturing her. He could kill her. I have to do anything I can to get her back—just like I did for you.”

Pause. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know, this isn’t really my world. Look, where are we driving to, exactly? So I can tell Eric.”

“Don’t bring him,” she said quickly.

“I know,” he replied with exaggerated patience. “I’m not stupid.”

“We’re driving to my house. It’s in my house.”

There was a short silence—bewilderment this time. “In your house? I thought your house was full of zombies.”

“Forsaken warriors. They’re not zombies. Anyway, Jace and the others can take care of them while I get the Cup.”

“Why do you have to get the Cup?” He sounded alarmed.

“Because I’m the only one who can,” she said. “Pick us up at the corner as soon as you can.”

He muttered something nearly inaudible, then: “Fine.”

She opened her eyes. The world swam before her in a blur of tears. “Thanks, Simon,” she said. “You’re a—”

But he had hung up.


“It occurs to me,” said Hodge, “that the dilemmas of power are always the same.”

Clary glanced at him sideways. “What do you mean?”

She sat on the window seat in the library, Hodge in his chair with Hugo on the armrest. The remains of breakfast—sticky jam, toast crumbs, and smears of butter—clung to a stack of plates on the low table that no one had seemed inclined to clear away. After breakfast they had scattered to prepare themselves, and Clary had been the first one back. This was hardly surprising, considering that all she had to do was pull on jeans and a shirt and run a brush through her hair, while everyone else had to arm themselves heavily. Having lost Jace’s dagger in the hotel, the only remotely supernatural object she had on her was the witchlight stone in her pocket.

“I was thinking of your Simon,” Hodge said, “and of Alec and Jace, among others.”

She glanced out the window. It was raining, thick fat drops spattering against the panes. The sky was an impenetrable gray. “What do they have to do with each other?”

“Where there is feeling that is not requited,” said Hodge, “there is an imbalance of power. It is an imbalance that is easy to exploit, but it is not a wise course. Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side.”

“Simon doesn’t hate me.”

“He might grow to, over time, if he felt you were using him.” Hodge held up a hand. “I know you do not intend to, and in some cases necessity trumps nicety of feeling. But the situation has put me in mind of another. Do you still have that photograph I gave you?”

Clary shook her head. “Not on me. It’s back in my room. I could go get it—”

“No.” Hodge stroked Hugo’s ebony feathers. “When your mother was young, she had a best friend, just as you have Simon. They were as close as siblings. In fact, they were often mistaken for brother and sister. As they grew older, it became clear to everyone around them that he was in love with her, but she never saw it. She always called him a ‘friend.’”

Clary stared at Hodge. “Do you mean Luke?”

“Yes,” said Hodge. “Lucian always thought he and Jocelyn would be together. When she met and loved Valentine, he could not bear it. After they were married, he left the Circle, disappeared—and let us all think that he was dead.”

“He never said—never even hinted at anything like that,” Clary said. “All these years, he could have asked her—”

“He knew what the answer would be,” said Hodge, looking past her toward the rain-spattered skylight. “Lucian was never the sort of man who would have deluded himself. No, he contented himself with being near her—assuming, perhaps, that over time her feelings might change.”