“The dark prince sat astride his black steed, his sable cape flowing behind him. A golden circlet bound his blond locks, his handsome face was cold with the rage of battle, and..."And his arm looked like an eggplant," Clary muttered to herself in exasperation.”

“Rolling orange fire silhouetted him from behind, backlighting the warrior’s broad shoulders and casual, long-legged stride. As he strolled away from the inferno, the ends of his loose black coat winged out behind him like a cape befitting the prince of darkness himself. “Holy hell,” Brock murmured. “Tegan.”

“Ew, no!' Laurel said, brushing past him. Dracula covered half his face with his cape, shunned vampire-style, and scooted away to his perch behind the counter.”

“Blood trickled down his chin as he was hauled up onto his knees, the golden rope securing his arms behind him and his ankles together. Arthur looked up and saw the fizzing sparkling crown coming down. I’m Arthur Penhaligon, he thought desperately... The crown was wedged tightly upon his head- and Arthur fell silently screaming into darkness.”

“His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.”

“DeChevue entered the room. His long coat, which was draped across his shoulders, flowed behind him like a cape. An absurd effect, Edwin thought. If clothes make the man, Edwin was moved to wonder, then what has this horrible affection made of this individual?”