“Even more blood welled up and spilled down his arm, splattering onto the ground.“Camille’s carpet,” Magnus protested.“It’s blood,” said Will. “She ought to be thrilled.”

“Of course he loves me. I’m his sister.”“Blood isn’t love,” said Magnus, and his voice was bitter.”

“Magnus stood up and went to the window. He pushed the curtain back, letting in just enough light to silhouette his hawklike profile. "Blood," he said, half to himself. "I had a dream two nights ago. I saw a city all of blood, with towers made of bone, and blood ran in the streets like water."Simon slewed his eyes over to Jace. "Is standing by the window muttering about blood something he does all the time?""No," said Jace, "sometimes he sits on the couch and does it.”

“Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests." Jace edged into the doorway, sizing up Magnus with his eyes. "Even if one of them spills a drink on my new shoes?""Even then.”

“Isabelle took out her invitation and waved it like a white flag. "I have an invitation. These"—she indicated the rest of the group with a grand wave of her arm—"are my friends."Magnus plucked the invitation out of her hand and looked at it with fastidious distaste. "I must have been drunk," he said. He threw the door open. "Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests."Jace edged into the doorway, sizing up Magnus with his eyes. "Even if one of them spills a drink on my new shoes?""Even then." Magnus's hand shot out, so fast it was barely a blur. He plucked the stele out of Jace's hand—Clary hadn't even realized he was holding it—and held it up. Jace looked faintly abashed. "As for this," Magnus said, sliding it into Jace's jeans pocket, "keep it in your pants, Shadowhunter.”

“Children of the Nephilim," Magnus said. "Well, well. I don't recall inviting you."Isabelle took out her invitation and waved it like a white flag. "I have an invitation. These"--she indicated the rest of the group with a grand wave of her arm--"are my friends."Magnus plucked the invitation out of her hand and looked at it with fastidious distaste. "I must have been drunk," he said. He threw the door open. "Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests." Jace looked at him, "Even if one of them spills something on my new shoes?" "Even then."- 219”

“Ugh," he said after a few swallows. "Dead blood." Jace's eyebrows went up. " Isn't all blood dead?" "The longer the animal whose blood I'm drinking has been dead, the worse the blood tastes," Simon explained. "Fresh is better." "But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his own eyebrows in response. "Well, aside from mine, of course," Jace said. "And I'm sure my blood is fan-tastic.”