Cassandra Clare - City of Heavenly Fire

On the day Emma Carstairss parents were killed, the weather was perfect.

On the other hand the weather was usually perfect in Los Angeles. Emmas mother and father dropped her off on a clear winter morning at the Institute in the hills behind the Pacific Coast Highway, overlooking the blue ocean. The sky was a cloudless expanse that stretched from the cliffs of the Pacific Palisades to the beaches at Point Dume.

A report had come in the night before of demonic activity near the beach caves of Leo Carrillo. The Carstairs had been assigned to look into it. Later Emma would remember her mother tucking a windblown strand of hair behind her ear as she offered to draw a Fearless rune on Emmas father, and John Carstairs laughing and saying he wasnt sure how he felt about newfangled runes. He was fine with what was written in the Gray Book, thanks very much.

At the time, though, Emma was impatient with her parents, hugging them quickly before pulling away to race up the Institute steps, her backpack bouncing between her shoulders as they waved good-bye from the courtyard.

Emma loved that she got to train at the Institute. Not only did her best friend, Julian, live there, but she always felt as if she were flying into the ocean when she went inside it.

It was a massive structure of wood and stone at the end of a long pebbled drive that wound through the hills. Every room, every floor, looked out over the ocean and the mountains and the sky, rippling expanses of blue and green and gold. Emmas dream was to climb up onto the roof with Julesthough, so far theyd been foiled by parentsto see if the view stretched all the way to the desert in the south.

The front doors knew her and gave way easily under her familiar touch. The entryway and lower floors of the Institute were full of adult Shadowhunters, striding back and forth.

Some kind of meeting, Emma guessed. She caught sight of Julians father, Andrew Blackthorn, the head of the Institute, amid the crowd. Not wanting to be slowed down by greetings, she dashed for the changing room on the second floor, where she swapped her jeans and T-shirt for training clothesoversize shirt, loose cotton pants, and the most important item of all: the blade slung over her shoulder.

Cortana. The name simply meant shortsword, but it wasnt short to Emma. It was the length of her forearm, sparkling metal, the blade inscribed with words that never failed to cause a shiver down her spine: I am Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal. Her father had explained what it meant when he put the sword in her ten-year-old hands for the first time.

You can use this for training until youre eighteen, when it becomes yours, John Carstairs had said, smiling down at her as her fingers traced the words. Do you understand what that means?

Shed shaken her head. Steel shed understood, but not temper. Temper meant anger, something her father was always warning her she should control. What did it have to do with a blade?

You know of the Wayland family, hed said. They were famous weapon makers before the Iron Sisters began to forge all the Shadowhunter blades. Wayland the Smith made Excalibur and Joyeuse, Arthurs and Lancelots swords, and Durendal, the sword of the hero Roland. And they made this sword too, from the same steel. All steel must be temperedsubjected to great heat, almost enough to melt or destroy the metalto make it stronger. Hed kissed the top of her head. Carstairs have carried this sword for generations. The inscription reminds us that Shadowhunters are the Angels weapons.

Temper us in the fire, and we grow stronger. When we suffer, we survive. Emma could hardly wait the six years until she would be eighteen, when she could travel the world to fight demons, when she could be tempered in fire. Now she strapped the sword on and left the changing room, picturing how it would be. In her imagination she was standing on top of the bluffs over the sea at Point Dume, fending off a cadre of Raum demons with Cortana. Julian was with her, of course, wielding his own favorite weapon, the crossbow.

In Emmas mind Jules was always there. Emma had known him for as long as she could remember. The Blackthorns and the Carstairs had always been close, and Jules was only a few months older; shed literally never lived in a world without him in it. Shed learned to swim in the ocean with him when theyd both been babies. Theyd learned to walk and then run together. She had been carried in his parents arms and corralled by his older brother and sister when misbehaving.

And theyd misbehaved often. Dyeing the puffy white Blackthorn family catOscarbright blue had been Emmas idea when they were both seven. Julian had taken the blame anyway; he often did. After all, hed pointed out, she was an only child and he was one of seven; his parents would forget they were angry with him a lot more quickly than hers would.

She remembered when his mother had died, just after Tavvyd been born, and how Emma had stood holding Juless hand while the body had burned in the canyons and the smoke had climbed toward the sky. She remembered that hed cried, and remembered thinking that boys cried so differently from girls, with awful ragged sobs that sounded like they were being pulled out with hooks. Maybe it was worse for them because they werent supposed to cry

Oof! Emma staggered back; shed been so lost in thought that shed plowed right into Julians father, a tall man with the same tousled brown hair as most of his children. Sorry, Mr. Blackthorn!

He grinned. Never seen anyone so eager to get to lessons before, he called as she darted down the hall.

The training room was one of Emmas favorite rooms in the whole building. It took up almost an entire level, and both the east and the west walls were clear glass. You could see blue sea nearly everywhere you looked. The curve of the coastline was visible from north to south, the endless water of the Pacific stretching out toward Hawaii.

In the center of the highly polished wood floor stood the Blackthorn familys tutor, a commanding woman named Katerina, currently engaged in teaching knife-throwing to the twins. Livvy was following instructions obligingly as she always did, but Ty was scowling and resistant.

Julian, in his loose light training clothes, was lying on his back near the west window, talking to Mark, who had his head stuck in a book and was doing his best to ignore his younger half brother.

Dont you think Mark is kind of a weird name for a Shadowhunter? Julian was saying as Emma approached. I mean, if you really think about it. Its confusing. Put a Mark on me, Mark.

Mark lifted his blond head from the book he was reading and glared at his younger brother. Julian was idly twirling a stele in his hand. He held it like a paintbrush, something Emma was always scolding him about. You were supposed to hold a stele like a stele, as if it were an extension of your hand, not an artists tool.

Mark sighed theatrically. At sixteen he was just enough their senior to find everything Emma and Julian did either annoying or ridiculous. If it bothers you, you can call me by my full name, he said.

Mark Antony Blackthorn? Julian wrinkled his nose. It takes a long time to say. What if we got attacked by a demon? By the time I was halfway through saying your name, youd be dead.