“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.”

“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?”

“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.”

“Rena?” I looked up as a figure emerged from the white void of snowfall. The snow dusted his broad shoulders as he took long, measured strides toward me, his black coat flapping in the wind. As he neared, I made out his startled features. “Wallace?” His gaze burned with indiscernible emotion. “Are you hugging the lamp post?”

“Julian paced restlessly in the hospital room, his overcoat and scarf trailing behind him like a supervillian's cape as he prowled.”

“Truth strikes us from behind and in the dark, as well as from before and in broad daylight.”