Growing Up Happens When You Start Having

Faeries Are Fallen Angels," Said Dorothea, "cast Down Out Of Heaven For Their Pride." "that's The Legend," Jace Said. "it's Also Said That They're The Offspring Of Demons And Angels, Which Always Seemed More Likely To Me. Good And Evil, Mixing Together. Faeries Are As Beautiful As Angels Are Supposed To Be, But They Have A Lot Of Mischief And Cruelty In Them. And You'll Notice Most Of Them Avoid Midday Sunlight—" "for The Devil Has No Power," Said Dorothea Softly, As If She Were Reciting An Old Rhyme, "except In The Dark.

Well, Thanks. It Was Nice Of You To Give Me Anything." The Tension Between Them Seemed To Press Down On Her Like Humid Air. "better Than A Bath In Spaghetti Any Day." He Said Darkly, "if You Share That Little Bit Of Personal Information With Anyone, I May Have To Kill You." "well, When I Was Five, I Wanted My Mother To Let Me Go Around And Around Inside The Dryer With The Clothes," Clary Said. "the Difference Is, She Didn't Let Me." "probably Because Going Around And Around Inside A Dryer Can Be Fatal," Jace Pointed Out, "whereas Pasta Is Rarely Fatal. Unless Isabelle Makes It.

We Have A Name," Said Jace. "magnes B-" "shut Up." Alec Hissed, Thwacking Jace With His Closed Menu. Jace Looked Injured. "jesus," He Rubbed His Arm. "what's Your Problem?

Staring At Him The Way She Might Stare At A Beloved Place She Was Not Sure She Would Ever See Again, Trying To Commit The Details To Memory, To Paint Them On The Backs Of Her Eyelids That She Might See It When She Shut Her Eyes To Sleep.

Will Interrupted. "henry," He Said, "you're On Fire. You Do Know That, Don't You?