Cassandra Clare
Cassandra Clare is the pseudonym of the author of the young adult trilogy The Mortal Instruments.
"What did he promise you?"
"Oh, you know. The usual. A lifetime's supply of Knicks tickets."
"Sorry, are you telling me that your demon-slaying buddies need to be driven to their next assignation with the forces of darkness by my mom?"
Simon Lewis: "You look happy. And a good thing for you that she does."
"You don't believe me? Fine. Go ahead. Kiss me right now."
"I thought it'd be something cooler, like a van with 'Death to Demons' painted on the outside, or . . ."
"If you're calling me up just to chat, mundane, you must be lonelier than I thought."
Jace hadn't seemed perturbed, but knowing him, Simon had no doubt he could kill several people in a single morning and go out for waffles afterward.
Clary: "Don't be sexist. They could find me a female instructor."
"Break a leg up there," Jace said with a wicked grin. "And I'll be down here, hopefully breaking someone else's."
"How to Come Out to Your Parents," she read out loud. "LUKE. Don't be ridiculous. Simon's not gay, he's a vampire."
"Vials oh holy water, blessed knives, steel and silver blades, electrum wire-not much use at the moment, but it's always good to have a spare-silver bullets, charm of protection, crucifixes, stars of David-"
"Jesus," said Clary.
"I doubt he'd fit."
"I thought I'd lie on the floor and writhe in pain for awhile. It relaxes me."
"Traded him for Alec," Clary said.
"Not permanently"
"No," said Jace. "Just for a few hours. Unless I don't come back. In which case, maybe he does get to keep Alec. Think of it as a lease with an option to buy."
"Mom and Dad won't be pleased if they find out."
"That you freed a possible criminal by trading away your brother to a warlock who looks like a gay Sonic the Hedgehog and dresses like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?" Simon inquired. "No, probably not."
"Look. In all the years I've known him, there's always been exactly one place Simon wanted to be, and he's always fought like hell to make sure he got there and stayed there."
"Where's that?"
"Wherever you were."
"I know you don't have to help us out-it's a favor-"
"Stop. I don't do favors, Alec. I do things for you because-well, why do you think I do them?
"I suppose you don't have much time for enjoying music," Clary said, thinking of Simon, for whom music was his entire life, "in your line of work."
He shrugged. "Maybe the occasional wailing chorus of the damned."
"I don't see anything you need protecting from here," said the boy. "Except some bad decor and a possible mold problem. But you can usually clear that up with bleach."
"'Confused is a nice word for it," said Jace.
"Here, I'll practice on you. Mom. I have something to tell you. I'm undead. Now, I know you may have some preconceived notions about the undead. I know you may not be comfortable with the idea of me being undead. But I'm here to tell you that the undead are just like you and me. Well, okay. Possibly more like me than you."
"If I made a joke about just dropping in, would you write me off as a cliche?"