City of Fallen Angels

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—I don’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 the hell is this? Some sort of setup? Why did you ask me to live with you? Werewolves hate vampires.”

“I don’t,” said Kyle. “I’m not too fond of their kind, though.” He jabbed a finger at Jace. “They think they’re better than everyone else.”

“No,” said Jace. “I think I’m better than everyone else. An opinion that has been backed up with ample evidence.”

Kyle looked at Simon. “Does he always talk like this?”

“Yes.”

“Does anything shut him up? Other than getting the crap beaten out of him, of course.”

Jace moved away from the window. “I would love for you to try.”

Simon stepped between them. “I’m not going to let you fight with each other.”

“And what are you going to do about it if … Oh.” Jace’s gaze trailed up to Simon’s forehead, and he grinned reluctantly. “So basically you’re threatening to turn me into something you can sprinkle on popcorn if I don’t do what you say?”

Kyle looked baffled. “What are you—”

“I just think you two should talk,” Simon interrupted. “So Kyle’s a werewolf. I’m a vampire. And you’re not exactly the boy next door either,” he added to Jace. “I say we figure out what’s going on and proceed from there.”

“Your trusting idiocy knows no bounds,” Jace said, but he sat down on the windowsill, crossing his arms. After a moment Kyle sat down too, on the futon couch. They both glared at each other. Still, Simon thought. Progress.

“Fine,” Kyle said. “I’m a werewolf. I’m not part of a pack, but I do have an alliance. Have you heard of the Praetor Lupus?”

“I’ve heard of lupus,” said Simon. “Isn’t it a kind of disease?”

Jace gave him a withering look. “‘Lupus’ means ‘wolf,’” he explained. “And the praetorians were an elite Roman military force. So I guess the translation is ‘Wolf Guardians.’” He shrugged. “I’ve run across mentions of them, but they’re a pretty secretive organization.”

“And the Shadowhunters aren’t?” said Kyle.