“This time Clary concentrated, trying to focus her mind on Simon-The Simon-ness of him, the shape of the way he thought, the feeling of hearing his voice, the sence of him close. His whispers, his secrets, the way he made her laugh.'So', she thought conversationally, 'now that I'm in your mind, wnat to see some naked mental pictures of Jace?'Simon jumped. "I heard that! And, no.”

“Clary: Now that I'm in your mind, want to see some mental pictures of Jace?Simon: I heard that and NO... You've seen him naked?Clary: Well not entirely but-Simon: Enough”

“Simon!" The voice was faint, but his hearing caught it over the pop and crackle of glowing flames. The smoke in the corridor had presaged heat; the heat was here now, pressing against him like an oppressive wall. "Simon!" The voice was Clary's. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense of memory of what he'd most loved during life to carry him throught the process of death. "Simon, you stupid idiot! I'm over here! At the window!" Simon jumped to his feet. he doubted his mind would conjure that up.”

“Clary shut her eyes. You didn't say no to an angel, no matter what it had in mind. Her heart pounding, she sat floating in the darkness behind her eyelids, resolutely trying not to think of Jace. But his face appear against the blank screen of her closed eyelids anyway - not smiling at her but looking sidelong, and she could see the scar at his temple, the uneven curl at the corner of his mouth, and the silver line on his throat where Simon had bitten him - all the marks and flaws and imperfections that made up the person she loved most in the world. Jace. A bright light lit her vision to scarlet, and she fell back against the sand, wondering if she was going to pass out - or maybe she was dying - but she didn't want to die, not now that she could see Jace's face so clearly in front of her. She could almost hear his voice, too, saying her name, the way he'd whispered it at Renwick's, over and over again. Clary. Clary. Clary."Clary," Jace said. "Open your eyes.”

“Simon!”The voice was Clary’s. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he’d most loved during life to carry him through the process of death.“Simon, you stupid idiot! I’m over here! At the window!”Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up.”

“Izzy," said Jace, as they neared the pond, and she jumped up and spun around. Her smile was dazzling."Jace!" She flew at him and hugged him. Now that was the way sisters were supposed to act, Clary thought. Not all stiff and weird and peculiar, but happy and loving. Watching Jace hug Isabelle, she tried to school her features into a happy and loving expression."Are you all right?" Simon asked, with some concern. "Your eyes are crossing.""I'm fine." Clary abandoned the attempt."Are you sure? You looked sort of… contorted.”

“Was it weird hearing from Jace?" asked Simon, his voice carefully neutral. "I mean, since you found out..."His voice trailed off.Yes?"said Clary, her voice sharply edged. "Since I found out what? That he's a killer transvestite who molests cats?"No wonder that cat of his hates everyone."Oh, shut up, Simon," Clary said crossly.”