“Yes?" said Clary, her voiced sharply edged. "Since I found out what? That he's a killer transvestite who molests cats?" "No wonder that cat of his hates everyone.”

“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.”

“I don't know who Azazel is," he said. "Isn't he the cat from The Smurfs?" He cast about , but Isabelle just looked up and rolled her eyes at him."Clary?" he thoughtHer voice came through, tinged with alarm. "What is it? What happened? Did my mom find out I'm gone?""Not yet," he thought back. "Is Azazel the cat from The Smurfs?" There was a long pause. "That's Azrael, Simon. And no more using the magic rings for Smurf questions.”

“Simon's dark eyes were serious. "I trust you," he said "I don't trust him." He cut his glance toward Jace, who was walking a few paces ahead of them, apparently conversing with the cat. Clary wondered what they were talking about. Politics? Opera? The high price of tuna?”

“The cat jumped out of Willie’s arms and bounded up the stanze.The gallery fell into a hush as the cat crawled through Moses and the Prophets and the reign of David and up through the Old Testament entirely, fixing its claws on the slaying of the Holy Innocents and stopping to consider how far it wished to travel into the Gospels. The Russian priest began to scream again.A spirit-minded guard, interpreting the cat’s movements as an evil sign, fell on his knees and asked forgiveness for his many sins of the flesh.A policeman called to the cat to jump down but the cat seemed content to remain with the dying Innocents.Willie whistled sharply then. The cat turned, hesitated, then leaped down and skittered out of the gallery.Everyone turned to Willie, who stood quite still, holding his arms as if he were still cradling the cat.“Cats—men,” he said in a faraway voice, “need things to hang on. Otherwise, wouldn’t everything fall away?”The Italian word for insane rippled through the gallery.”

“I hate cats."Death's face became a little stiffer, if that were possible. The blue glow in his eye sockets flickered red for an instant."I SEE," he said. The tone suggested that death was too good for cat haters.”