City of Fallen Angels

Simon sighed. He hadn’t wanted to say anything about Camille’s offer, but in the face of someone trying to kill him, however ineffectually, maybe secrecy wasn’t such a priority. He explained what had happened at his meeting with the vampire woman, while Jace watched him with an intent expression.

When he was done, Jace said, “Interesting, but she’s not likely to be the one trying to kill you either. She knows about your Mark, for one thing. And I’m not sure she’d be keen to get caught breaking the Accords like that. When Downworlders are that old, they usually know how to stay out of trouble.” He set his soup can down. “We could go out again,” he suggested. “See if they try to attack a third time. If we could just capture one of them, maybe we—”

“No,” Simon said. “Why are you always trying to get yourself killed?”

“It’s my job.”

“It’s a hazard of your job. At least for most Shadowhunters. For you it seems to be the purpose.”

Jace shrugged. “My father always said—” He broke off, his face hardening. “Sorry. I meant Valentine. By the Angel. Every time I call him that, it feels like I’m betraying my real father.”

Simon felt sympathetic toward Jace despite himself. “Look, you thought he was your father for what, sixteen years? That doesn’t just go away in a day. And you never met the guy who was really your father. And he’s dead. So you can’t really betray him. Just think of yourself as someone who has two fathers for a while.”

“You can’t have two fathers.”

“Sure you can,” Simon said. “Who says you can’t? We can buy you one of those books they have for little kids. Timmy Has Two Dads. Except I don’t think they have one called Timmy Has Two Dads and One of Them Was Evil. That part you’re just going to have to work through on your own.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “It’s fascinating,” he said. “You know all these words, and they’re all English, but when you string them together into sentences, they just don’t make any sense.” He tugged lightly on the window curtain. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“My father’s dead,” said Simon.

Jace turned to look at him. “What?”

“I figured you didn’t know,” said Simon. “I mean, it’s not like you were going to ask, or are particularly interested in anything about me. So, yeah. My father’s dead. So we do have that in common.” Suddenly exhausted, he leaned back against the futon. He felt sick and dizzy and tired—a deep tiredness that seemed to have sunk into his bones. Jace, on the other hand, seemed possessed of a restless energy that Simon found a little disturbing. It hadn’t been easy watching him eat that tomato soup, either. It had looked too much like blood for his comfort.

Jace eyed him. “How long has it been since you … ate? You look pretty bad.”

Simon sighed. He supposed he couldn’t say anything, after pestering Jace to eat something. “Hang on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Peeling himself off the futon, he went into his bedroom and retrieved his last bottle of blood from under the bed. He tried not to look at it—separated blood was a sickening sight. He shook the bottle hard as he headed into the living room, where Jace was still staring out the window.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Simon unscrewed the bottle of blood and took a swig. Normally he didn’t like drinking the stuff in front of other people, but this was Jace, and he didn’t care what Jace thought. Besides, it wasn’t as if Jace hadn’t seen him drink blood before. At least Kyle wasn’t home. That would be a hard one to explain to his new roommate. Nobody liked a guy who kept blood in the fridge.

Two Jaces eyed him—one the real Jace, the other his reflection in the windowpane. “You can’t just skip feeding, you know.”

Simon shrugged. “I’m eating now.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, “but you’re a vampire. Blood isn’t like food for you. Blood is … blood.”

“That’s very illuminating.” Simon flung himself into the armchair across from the TV; it had probably once been a pale gold velvet but was now worn to the grayish pile. “Do you have a lot of other profound thoughts like that? Blood is blood? A toaster is a toaster? A Gelatinous Cube is a Gelatinous Cube?”

Jace shrugged. “Fine. Ignore my advice. You’ll be sorry later.”

Before Simon could answer, he heard the sound of the front door opening. He looked daggers at Jace. “That’s my roommate. Kyle. Be nice.”

Jace smiled charmingly. “I’m always nice.”

Simon had no chance to respond to this the way he would have liked, for a moment later Kyle bounded into the room, looking bright-eyed and energetic. “Man, I was all over town today,” he said. “I almost got lost, but you know what they say. Bronx up, Battery down—” He looked at Jace, registering belatedly that there was someone else in the room. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you had a friend over.” He held out a hand. “I’m Kyle.”