City of Fallen Angels

Luke looked bewildered. “Tell who what?”


Clary shook her head at Simon. “You’re on thin ice, Lewis.” With which pronouncement she flounced away, holding up her silk skirts as she went. Simon was amused to note that underneath them she was wearing green sneakers.

“Clearly,” said Luke, “something is going on that I don’t know about.”

Simon looked over at him. “Sometimes I think that’s the motto of my life.”

Luke raised his eyebrows. “Has something happened?”

Simon hesitated. He certainly couldn’t tell Luke about his love life—Luke and Maia were in the same pack, and werewolf packs were more loyal than street gangs. It would put Luke in a very awkward position. It was true, though, that Luke was also a resource. As the leader of the Manhattan wolf pack, he had access to all sorts of information, and was well versed in Downworlder politics. “Have you heard of a vampire named Camille?”

Luke made a low whistling sound. “I know who she is. I’m surprised you do.”

“Well, she’s the head of the New York vampire clan. I do know something about them,” Simon said, a little stiffly.

“I didn’t realize you did. I thought you wanted to live like a human as much as you could.” There was no judgment in Luke’s voice, only curiosity. “Now, by the time I took over the downtown pack from the previous pack leader, she had put Raphael in charge. I don’t think anyone knew where she’d gone exactly. But she is something of a legend. An extraordinarily old vampire, from everything I understand. Famously cruel and cunning. She could give the Fair Folk a run for their money.”

“Have you ever seen her?”

Luke shook his head. “Don’t think I have, no. Why the curiosity?”

“Raphael mentioned her,” Simon said vaguely.

Luke’s forehead creased. “You’ve seen Raphael lately?”

Before Simon could answer, the shop bell sounded again, and to Simon’s surprise, Jace came in. Clary hadn’t mentioned he was coming.

In point of fact, he realized, Clary hadn’t mentioned Jace much lately at all.

Jace looked from Luke to Simon. He looked as if he were mildly surprised to see Simon and Luke there, although it was hard to tell. Though Simon imagined that Jace ran the gamut of facial expressions when he was alone with Clary, his default one around other people was a fierce sort of blankness. “He looks,” Simon had once said to Isabelle, “like he’s thinking about something deep and meaningful, but if you ask him what it is, he’ll punch you in the face.”

“So don’t ask him,” Isabelle had said, as if she thought Simon was being ridiculous. “No one says you two need to be friends.”

“Is Clary here?” Jace asked, shutting the door behind him. He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes, and he didn’t seem to have bothered to put on a jacket, despite the fact that the autumn wind was brisk. Though cold no longer affected Simon much, looking at Jace in just jeans and a thermal shirt made him feel chilly.

“She’s helping Jocelyn,” explained Luke. “But you’re welcome to wait here with us.”

Jace looked around uneasily at the walls hung with veils, fans, tiaras, and seed-pearl-encrusted trains. “Everything is … so white.”

“Of course it’s white,” said Simon. “It’s a wedding.”

“White for Shadowhunters is the color of funerals,” Luke explained. “But for mundanes, Jace, it’s the color of weddings. Brides wear white to symbolize their purity.”

“I thought Jocelyn said her dress wasn’t white,” Simon said.

“Well,” said Jace, “I suppose that ship has sailed.”

Luke choked on his coffee. Before he could say—or do—anything, Clary walked back into the room. Her hair was up now, in sparkling pins, with a few curls hanging loose. “I don’t know,” she was saying as she came closer to them. “Karyn got her hands on me and did my hair, but I’m not sure about the sparkles—”

She broke off as she saw Jace. It was clear from her expression that she hadn’t been expecting him either. Her lips parted in surprise, but she said nothing. Jace, in his turn, was staring at her, and for once in his life Simon could read Jace’s expression like a book. It was as if everything else in the world had fallen away for Jace but himself and Clary, and he was looking at her with an unconcealed yearning and desire that made Simon feel awkward, as if he had somehow walked in on a private moment.

Jace cleared his throat. “You look beautiful.”

“Jace.” Clary looked more puzzled than anything else. “Is everything all right? I thought you said you couldn’t come because of the Conclave meeting.”

“That’s right,” Luke said. “I heard about the Shadowhunter body in the park. Is there any news?”