Cassandra Clare - City of Glass

For my mother.

I only count the hours that shine.

When you look back on writing a book, you cant help but realize what a group effort it all is, and how quickly the whole thing would sink like the Titanic if you didn't have the help of your friends. With that in mind: Thanks to the NB Team and the Massachusetts All-Stars; thanks to Elka, Emily, and Clio for hours of plotting help, and to Holly Black for hours of patiently reading the same scenes over and over. To Libba Bray for providing bagels and a couch to write on, Robin Wasserman for distracting me with clips from Gossip Girl, Maureen Johnson for staring at me in a frightening way while I was trying to work, and Justine Larbalestier and Scott Westerfeld for forcing me to get off the couch and go somewhere to write. Thanks also to Ioana for helping me with my (nonexistent) Romanian. Thanks as always to my agent, Barry Goldblatt; my editor, Karen Wojtyla; the teams at Simon & Schuster and Walker Books for getting behind this series, and Sarah Payne for making changes long past deadline. And of course to my familymy mother, my father, Jim and Kate, the Esons clan, and of course Josh, who still thinks Simon is based on him (and he may be right).

The cold snap of the previous week was over; the sun was shining brightly as Clary hurried across Lukes dusty front yard, the hood of her jacket up to keep her hair from blowing across her face. The weather might have warmed up, but the wind off the East River could still be brutal. It carried with it a faint chemical smell, mixed with the Brooklyn smell of asphalt, gasoline, and burned sugar from the abandoned factory down the street.

Simon was waiting for her on the front porch, sprawled in a broken-springed armchair. He had his DS balanced on his blue-jeaned knees and was poking away at it industriously with the stylus. Score, he said as she came up the steps. Im kicking butt at Mario Kart.

Clary pushed her hood back, shaking hair out of her eyes, and rummaged in her pocket for her keys. Where have you been? Ive been calling you all morning.

Simon got to his feet, shoving the blinking rectangle into his messenger bag. I was at Erics. Band practice.

Clary stopped jiggling the key in the lockit always stucklong enough to frown at him. Band practice? You mean youre still

In the band? Why wouldnt I be? He reached around her. Here, let me do it.

Clary stood still while Simon expertly twisted the key with just the right amount of pressure, making the stubborn old lock spring open. His hand brushed hers; his skin was cool, the temperature of the air outside. She shivered a little. Theyd only called off their attempt at a romantic relationship last week, and she still felt confused whenever she saw him.

Thanks. She took the key back without looking at him.

It was hot in the living room. Clary hung her jacket up on the peg inside the front hall and headed to the spare bedroom, Simon trailing in her wake. She frowned. Her suitcase was open like a clamshell on the bed, her clothes and sketchbooks strewn everywhere.

I thought you were just going to be in Idris a couple of days, Simon said, taking in the mess with a look of faint dismay.

I am, but I cant figure out what to pack. I hardly own any dresses or skirts, but what if I cant wear pants there?

Why wouldnt you be able to wear pants there? Its another country, not another century.

But the Shadowhunters are so old-fashioned, and Isabelle always wears dresses Clary broke off and sighed. Its nothing. Im just projecting all my anxiety about my mom onto my wardrobe. Lets talk about something else. How was practice? Still no band name?

It was fine. Simon hopped onto the desk, legs dangling over the side. Were considering a new motto. Something ironic, like Weve seen a million faces and rocked about eighty percent of them.

Have you told Eric and the rest of them that

That Im a vampire? No. It isnt the sort of thing you just drop into casual conversation.

Maybe not, but theyre your friends. They should know. And besides, theyll just think it makes you more of a rock god, like that vampire Lester.

Lestat, Simon said. That would be the vampire Lestat. And hes fictional. Anyway, I dont see you running to tell all your friends that youre a Shadowhunter.

What friends? Youre my friend. She threw herself down onto the bed and looked up at Simon. And I told you, didnt I?

Because you had no choice. Simon put his head to the side, studying her; the bedside light reflected off his eyes, turning them silver. Ill miss you while youre gone.

Ill miss you, too, Clary said, although her skin was prickling all over with a nervous anticipation that made it hard to concentrate. Im going to Idris! her mind sang. Ill see the Shadowhunter home country, the City of Glass. Ill save my mother.

And Ill be with Jace.

Simons eyes flashed as if he could hear her thoughts, but his voice was soft. Tell me againwhy do you have to go to Idris? Why cant Madeleine and Luke take care of this without you?

My mom got the spell that put her in this state from a warlockRagnor Fell. Madeleine says we need to track him down if we want to know how to reverse the spell. But he doesnt know Madeleine. He knew my mom, and Madeleine thinks hell trust me because I look so much like her. And Luke cant come with me. He could come to Idris, but apparently he cant get into Alicante without permission from the Clave, and they wont give it. And dont say anything about it to him, pleasehes really not happy about not going with me. If he hadnt known Madeleine before, I dont think hed let me go at all.

But the Lightwoods will be there too. And Jace. Theyll be helping you. I mean, Jace did say hed help you, didnt he? He doesnt mind you coming along?

Sure, hell help me, Clary said. And of course he doesnt mind. Hes fine with it.

But that, she knew, was a lie.

Clary had gone straight to the Insititute after shed talked to Madeleine at the hospital. Jace had been the first one shed told her mothers secret to, before even Luke. And hed stood there and stared at her, getting paler and paler as she spoke, as if she werent so much telling him how she could save her mother as draining the blood out of him with cruel slowness.

Youre not going, he said as soon as shed finished. If I have to tie you up and sit on you until this insane whim of yours passes, you are not going to Idris.

Clary felt as if hed slapped her. She had thought hed be pleased. Shed run all the way from the hospital to the Institute to tell him, and here he was standing in the entryway glaring at her with a look of grim death. But youre going.

Yes, were going. We have to go. The Claves called every active Clave member who can be spared back to Idris for a massive Council meeting. Theyre going to vote on what to do about Valentine, and since were the last people whove seen him

Clary brushed this aside. So if youre going, why cant I go with you?

The straightforwardness of the question seemed to make him even angrier. Because it isnt safe for you there.

Oh, and its so safe here? Ive nearly been killed a dozen times in the past month, and every time its been right here in New York.

Thats because Valentines been concentrating on the two Mortal Instruments that were here. Jace spoke through gritted teeth. Hes going to shift his focus to Idris now, we all know it