City of Fallen Angels

Catching sight of Jace and Clary sprawled on the floor, she raised her eyebrows. “Canoodling, I see. I thought you were supposed to be training.”


“No one said you had to walk in without knocking, Iz.” Jace didn’t move, just turned his head to the side to look at Isabelle with a mixture of annoyance and affection. Clary, though, scrambled to her feet, straightening her crumpled clothes.

“It’s the training room. It’s public space.” Isabelle was pulling off one of her gloves, which were bright red velvet. “I just got these at Trash and Vaudeville. On sale. Don’t you love them? Don’t you wish you had a pair?” She wiggled her fingers in their direction.

“I don’t know,” said Jace. “I think they’d clash with my gear.”

Isabelle made a face at him. “Did you hear about the dead Shadowhunter they found in Brooklyn? The body was all mangled up, so they don’t know who it is yet. I assume that’s where Mom went.”

“Yeah,” said Jace, sitting up. “Clave meeting. I ran into her on the way out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” said Clary. “Is that why you took so long getting rope?”

He nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“He means,” said Isabelle, “he didn’t want to spoil the romantic mood.” She bit her lip. “I just hope it wasn’t anyone we know.”

“I don’t think it could have been. The body was dumped in an abandoned factory—had been there for several days. If it had been someone we knew, we would have noticed they were missing.” Jace pushed his hair back behind his ears. He was looking at Isabelle a little impatiently, Clary thought, as if he were annoyed she’d brought this up. She wished he’d told her earlier, even if it would have spoiled the mood. Much of what he did, what they all did, Clary knew, brought them into frequent contact with the reality of death. All the Lightwoods were, in their own ways, still grieving the loss of the youngest son, Max, who had died simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was strange. Jace had accepted her decision to leave high school and take up training without a murmur, but he shied away from discussing the dangers of a Shadowhunting life with her.

“I’m going to get dressed,” she announced, and headed for the door that led to the small changing room attached to the training area. It was very plain: pale wood walls, a mirror, a shower, and hooks for clothes. Towels were stacked neatly on a wooden bench by the door. Clary showered quickly and put on her street clothes—tights, boots, jean skirt, and a new pink sweater. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that there was a hole in her tights, and her damp and curling red hair was an untidy tangle. She would never look perfectly put together like Isabelle always did, but Jace didn’t seem to mind.

By the time she came back to the training room, Isabelle and Jace had left the topic of dead Shadowhunters behind and had moved on to something Jace apparently found even more horrifying—Isabelle’s date with Simon. “I can’t believe he took you to an actual restaurant.” Jace was on his feet now, putting away the floor mats and training gear while Isabelle leaned against the wall and played with her new gloves. “I assumed his idea of a date would be making you watch him play World of Warcraft with his nerd friends.”

“I,” Clary pointed out, “am one of his nerd friends, thank you.”

Jace grinned at her.

“It wasn’t really a restaurant. More of a diner. With pink soup that he wanted me to try,” Isabelle said thoughtfully. “He was very sweet.”

Clary felt instantly guilty for not telling her—or Jace—about Maia. “He said you had fun.”

Isabelle’s gaze flickered over to her. There was a peculiar quality to Isabelle’s expression, as if she were hiding something, but it was gone before Clary could be sure it had been there at all. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, he called me a few minutes ago. Just to check in.” Clary shrugged.

“I see,” Isabelle said, her voice suddenly brisk and cool. “Well, as I said, he’s very sweet. But maybe a bit too sweet. That can be boring.” She stuffed her gloves into her pockets. “Anyway, it isn’t a permanent thing. It’s just playing around for now.”

Clary’s guilt faded. “Have you guys ever talked about, you know, dating exclusively?”

Isabelle looked horrified. “Of course not.” She yawned then, stretching her arms catlike over her head. “Okay, off to bed. See you later, lovebirds.”

She departed, leaving a hazy cloud of jasmine perfume in her wake.