“So here’s where they put you. I didn’t think they even used these cells anymore.” He glanced sideways. “I got the wrong window at first. Gave your friend in the next cell something of a shock. Attractive fellow, what with the beard and the rags. Kind of reminds me of the street folk back home.”

“It’s me,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I could understand if you didn’t believe me, but I swear on the Angel, Iz, it’s me.” Alec said nothing, but his grip on Jace’s hand tightened. “You don’t need to swear,” he said, and with his free hand touched the parabatai rune near his collarbone. “I know. I can feel it. I don’t feel like I’m missing a part of me anymore.”“I felt it too.” Jace took a ragged breath. “Something missing. I felt it, even with Sebastian, but I didn’t know what it was I was missing. But it was you. My parabatai.”

“Because I finally can,” Sebastian said. “You’ve no idea what it’s been like, being around the lot of you these past few days, having to pretend I could stand you. That the sight of you didn’t make me sick. You,” he said to Jace, “every second you’re not panting after your own sister, you’re whining on and on about how your daddy didn’t love you. Well, who could blame him? And you, you stupid bitch”—he turned to Clary—“giving that priceless book away to a half-breed warlock; have you got a single brain cell in that tiny head of yours?”

“I am one of the Clave. It's in my blood and bones. So tell me, if you're so sure this wasn't my fault, why is it that the first thought in my mind when I saw Abbadon wasn't for my fellow warriors but for you?" His other hand came up; he was holding her face, prisoned between his palms. "I know-I knew-Alec wasn't acting like himself. I knew something was wrong. But all I could think about was you...”

“I was thinking about the first time I ever saw you," he said, "and how after that I couldn't forget you. I wanted to, but I couldn't stop myself. I forced Hodge to let me be the one who came to find you and bring you back to the Institue. And even back then, in that stupid coffee shop, when I saw you sitting on that couch with Simon, even then that felt wrong to me-- I should have been the one sitting with you. The one who made you laugh like that. I couldn't get rid of that feeling. That it should have been me. And the more I knew you, the more I felt it--it had never been like that for me before. I'd always wanted a girl and then gotten to know her and not wanted her anymore, but with you the feeling just got stronger and stronger until that night when you showed up at Renwick's and I knew.”

“I think I gave Alec a complex about what kind of fighter he was, just because he wanted to live.”

“It occurs to me," said Hodge, "that the dilemmas of power arealways the same." Clary glanced at him sideways. "What do you mean?"She sat on the window seat in the library, Hodge in his chair with Hugo onthe armrest. The remains of breakfast—sticky jam, toast crumbs, andsmears of butter—clung to a stack of plates on the low table that no onehad seemed inclined to clear away. After breakfast they had scattered toprepare themselves, and Clary had been the first one back. This was hardlysurprising, considering that all she had to do was pull on jeans and a shirtand run a brush through her hair, while everyone else had to armthemselves heavily. Having lost Jace's dagger in the hotel, the onlyremotely supernatural object she had on her was the witchlight stone in herpocket."I was thinking of your Simon," Hodge said, "and of Alec and Jace,among others."She glanced out the window. It was raining, thick fat drops spatteringagainst the panes. The sky was an impenetrable gray. "What do they haveto do with each other?""Where there is feeling that is not requited," said Hodge, "there is animbalance of power. It is an imbalance that is easy to exploit, but it is not awise course. Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can existside by side.""Simon doesn't hate me.""He might grow to, over time, if he felt you were using him.”