THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS

City of lass

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Also by Cassandra Clare

THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS

City of Bones

City of Ashes

City of Glass

City of Fallen An9els

City of Lost Souls

City of Heavenly Fire

THE INFERNAL DEVICES

Clockwork An9el

Clockwork Prince

Clockwork Princess

The Shadowhunter's Codex With Joshua Lewis

The Bane Chronicles With Sarah Rees Brennan

and Maureen Johnson

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THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS

•

ass CASSANDRA CLARE

Margaret K. McElderry Books N E W Y O R K L O N D O N T O R O N T O S Y D N E Y N E W D E L H I

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MARGARET K. McELDERRY BOOKS

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people,

or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are

products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events

or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright© 2009 by Cassandra Claire, LLC

Cover photo-illustration copyright© 2015 by Cliff Nielsen

Spine landscape illustration copyright© 2015 by Nicolas Delort

Spine figure illustration copyright© 2015 by Pat Kinsella

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

MARGARET K. McELDERRY BooKs is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster

Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or business@simonandschuster.com.

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For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau

at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

Also available in a Margaret K. McElderry Books hardcover edition

Cover design by Russell Gordon

Interior design by Mike Rosamilia

Map illustration by Drew Willis

The text for this book is set in Dolly.

Manufactured in the United States of America

This Margaret K. McElderry Books paperback edition September 2015

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:

Clare, Cassandra.

City of Glass f Cassandra Clare.�1st ed.

p. cm.�(The mortal instruments; bk. 3)

Summary: Still pursuing a cure for her mother's enchantment, Clary uses all her powers

and ingenuity to get into Idris, the forbidden country of the secretive Shadowhunters, and

to its capital, the City of Glass, where with the help of a newfound friend, Sebastian,

she uncovers important truths about her family's past that will help save not only

her mother but all those that she holds most dear.

ISBN 978-1-4169-1430-3 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4391-5842-5 (eBook)

[1. Supernatural-Fiction. 2. Demonology-Fiction. 3· Magic-Fiction.

4· Vampires-Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)-Fiction.J I. Title.

PZ7.C5265Ckg 2009

[Fic)-dc22

2008039065

ISBN 978-1-4814-5598-s (repackaged pbk)

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For my mother.

"I only count the hours that shine."

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Foreword

All the stories are true.

That's whatJace Wayland tells Clary Fray at the end of the first

book of the Shadowhunters chronicles, City of Bones.

Jace means, of course, more than one thing by this. He means

that everything she'd always been told didn't exist-vampires,

werewolves, faeries, ghosts, and monsters of all shape, size, and

intention-did exist after all and that, in fact, the world is full

of them. He means that the stories we believe in our hearts­

stories in which we are the heroes, stories in which there are

good people who rise up to defeat the evil, stories in which there

is always hope-are also true. Clary ends City of Bones feeling

a true sense of wonder as she flies over New York City, seeing

revealed below all the magic and enchantment that had been

previously hidden from her.

All the stories are true.

When I set out to write City of Bones, I was in love with stories

about vampires and faeries and warlocks, but I was also in love

with the mythological tales of angels and demons. I was fascinated

by Paradise Lost and Dante's Inferno and Mike Carey's Lucifer. I was

fascinated with the way that human beings had grappled with

the ideas of absolute evil and absolute good tempered with love

and free will. I wanted to create a world that was rich in folk­

lore, the tales people tell each other about things that go bump

and bite in the night, but which also incorporated the existence

of figures of myth-angels so powerful that one look at them

would blind you. Demons so evil that their blood could change

the nature of your soul from good to evil. I wanted to make

real that which is so shrouded in myth and history that it has

become symbolic: when Valentine frees Jace from his prison in

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the Silent City, he carries with him a sword and explains, "This

is the blade with which the Angel drove Adam and Eve out of the

garden. And he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubim, and

a flaming sword which turned every way." Later, Simon comes into

possession of the sword of the Archangel Michael. The idea that

these objects of immense power and history were real things our

heroes could touch and use delighted me.

The existence of angels and demons in the world of

Shadowhunters is the ur-myth from which every other aspect of

the stories is derived. Shadowhunters were created from the blood

of angels. Faeries are part angel, part demon. Warlocks are the

offspring of humans and demons. Werewolves and vampires are

humans who bear demon diseases. I wanted to create a universe

where myth and folklore dovetailed, where every story of magic

could be explained.

All the stories are true.

The idea of Shadowhunters came to me in part from the sto­

ries ofNephilim in the Bible. The offspring of humans and angels,

they were enormous monsters who laid waste to the earth. As

writers often do, I adapted what seemed compelling to me from

the myth-angels having children, when that is such a human

thing to do! (Of course the Shadowhunters are only created from

angel blood, but Raziel still seems to have a fatherly interest in

them.) The idea of being part angel, partly a symbol of goodness,

and yet being beset by all the weaknesses inherent to humanity:

frailty, cruelty, greed, selfishness, despair. It seemed a way to take

an ancient story and ring a twist on it that would allow any reader

to imagine what it might mean to be part divine, to have immense

power-and as Spider-Man likes to remind us, the immense

responsibility that goes with it.

All the stories are true.

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Of course, what }ace means ultimately is that stories are how

we make sense of the world. The Mortal Instruments is the story of

Clary above everything else: the story of a girl who starts out ordi­

nary and becomes a hero. A girl who first is blind to the magic in

the world all around her, but comes not just to see it, but to be able

to master and control it. Clary is an artist and a shaper of runes,

the magical language of angels, and in using that language she

shapes her own story and her own destiny. Clary and her friends

are heroes who make their stories true-as, in the end, do we all.

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Long is the way And hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light.

-John Milton, Paradise Lost

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Part One

Sparks Fly Upward

Man is born to trouble

as the sparks fly upward.

-Jobs=7

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l TH E P O RTAL

The cold snap of the previous week was aver; the sun was

shining brightly as Clary hurried across Luke's dusty front

yard, the hood of her jacket up to keep her hair from blowing

across her face. The weather might have warmed up, but the

wind off the East River could still be brutal. It carried with it a

faint chemical smell, mixed with the Brooklyn smell of asphalt,

gasoline, and burned sugar from the abandoned factory down

the street.

Simon was waiting for her on the front porch, sprawled in

a broken-springed armchair. He had his DS balanced on his

blue-jeaned knees and was poking away at it industriously with

the stylus. "Score," he said as she came up the steps. "I'm kick­

ing butt at Mario Kart."

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City of G l a s s

Clary pushed her hood back, shaking hair out of her eyes,

and rummaged in her pocket for her keys. "Where have you

been? I've been calling you all morning."

Simon got to his feet, shoving the blinking rectangle into

his messenger bag. "I was at Eric's. Band practice."

Clary stopped jiggling the key in the lock-it always stuck­

long enough to frown at him. "Band practice? You mean you're

still-"

"In the band? Why wouldn't I be?" He reached around her.

"Here, let me do it."

Clary stood still while Simon expertly twisted the key with

just the right amount of pressure, making the stubborn old

lock spring open. His hand brushed hers; his skin was cool, the

temperature of the air outside. She shivered a little. They'd only

called off their attempt at a romantic relationship last week,

and she still felt confused whenever she saw him.

"Thanks." She took the key back without looking at him.

It was hot in the living room. Clary hung her jacket up on

the peg inside the front hall and headed to the spare bedroom,

Simon trailing in her wake. She frowned. Her suitcase was

open like a clamshell on the bed, her clothes and sketchbooks

strewn everywhere.

"I thought you were just going to be in Idris a couple of

days," Simon said, taking in the mess with a look of faint

dismay.

"I am, but I can't figure out what to pack. I hardly own any

dresses or skirts, but what if I can't wear pants there?"

"Why wouldn't you be able to wear pants there? It's another

country, not another century."

"But the Shadowhunters are so old-fashioned, and Isabelle

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T H E P O RTAL

always wears dresses-" Clary broke off and sighed. "It's noth­

ing. I'm just projecting all my anxiety about my mom onto my

wardrobe. Let's talk about something else. How was practice?

Still no band name?"

"It was fine." Simon hopped onto the desk, legs dangling

over the side. "We're considering a new motto. Something

ironic, like 'We've seen a million faces and rocked about eighty

percent of them."'

"Have you told Eric and the rest of them that-"

"That I'm a vampire? No. It isn't the sort of thing you just

drop into casual conversation."

"Maybe not, but they're your friends. They should know.

And besides, they'll just think it makes you more of a rock god,

like that vampire Lester."

"Lestat," Simon said. "That would be the vampire Lestat.

And he's fictional. Anyway, I don't see you running to tell all

your friends that you're a Shadowhunter."

"What friends? You're my friend." She threw herself down

onto the bed and looked up at Simon. "And I told you, didn't I?"

"Because you had no choice." Simon put his head to the

side , studying her; the bedside light reflected off his eyes, turn­

ing them silver. "I'll miss you while you're gone."

"I'll miss you, too," Clary said, although her skin was prick­

ling all over with a nervous anticipation that made it hard to

concentrate. I'm going to Idris ! her mind sang. I'll see the Shadow­

hunter home country, the City of Glass. I'll save my mother.

And I'll be withjace.

Simon's eyes flashed as if he could hear her thoughts, but his

voice was soft. ''Tell me again-why do you have to go to Idris?

Why can't Madeleine and Luke take care of this without you?"

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C i t y of G l a s s

"My mom got the spell that put her in this state from a

warlock-Ragnor Fell. Madeleine says we need to track him

down if we want to know how to reverse the spell. But he doesn't

know Madeleine. He knew my mom, and Madeleine thinks

he'll trust me because I look so much like her. And Luke can't

come with me. He could come to Idris, but apparently he can't

get into Alicante without permission from the Clave, and they

won't give it. And don't say anything about it to him, please­

he's really not happy about not going with me. If he hadn't

known Madeleine before, I don't think he'd let me go at all."

"But the Lightwoods will be there too. And Jace. They'll be

helping you. I mean, J ace did say he'd help you, didn't he? He

doesn't mind you coming along?"

"Sure, he'll help me," Clary said. "And of course he doesn't

mind. He's fine with it."

But that, she knew, was a lie.

Clary had gone straight to the Institute after she'd talked to

Madeleine at the hospital. Jace had been the first one she'd told

her mother's secret to, before even Luke. And he'd stood there

and stared at her, getting paler and paler as she spoke, as if she

weren't so much telling him how she could save her mother as

draining the blood out of him with cruel slowness.

"You're not going," he said as soon as she'd finished. "If

I have to tie you up and sit on you until this insane whim of

yours passes, you are not going to Idris ."

Clary felt as if he'd slapped her. She had thought he'd be

pleased. She'd run all the way from the hospital to the Institute

to tell him, and here he was standing in the entryway glaring at

her with a look of grim death. "But you're going."

--=--15> 4 --�-

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T H E P O RTAL

"Yes, we're going. We have to go. The Clave's called every

active Clave member who can be spared back to Idris for a mas­

sive Council meeting. They're going to vote on what to do about

Valentine, and since we're the last people who've seen him-"

Clary brushed this aside. "So if you're going, why can't I go

with you?"

The straightforwardness of the question seemed to make

him even angrier. "Because it isn't safe for you there."

"Oh, and it's so safe here? I've nearly been killed a dozen

times in the past month, and every time it's been right here in

New York."

"That's because Valentine's been concentrating on the two

Mortal Instruments that were here." Jace spoke through grit­

ted teeth. "He's going to shift his focus to Idris now, we all

know it-"

"We're hardly as certain of anything as all that," said

Maryse Lightwood. She had been standing in the shadow of

the corridor doorway, unseen by either of them; she moved

forward now, into the harsh entryway lights. They illumi­

nated the lines of exhaustion that seemed to draw her face

down. Her husband, Robert Lightwood, had been injured by

demon poison during the battle last week and had needed

constant nursing since; Clary could only imagine how tired

she must be. "And the Clave wants to meet Clarissa. You

know that , Jace ."

"The Clave can screw itself."

"Jace," Maryse said, sounding genuinely parental for a

change. "Language."

"The Clave wants a lot of things," Jace amended. "It shouldn't

necessarily get them all."

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C i t y of G l a s s

Maryse shot him a look, as if she knew exactly what he

was talking about and didn't appreciate it. "The Clave is often

right, Jace. It's not unreasonable for them to want to talk to

Clary, after what she's been through. What she could tell

them-"

"I'll tell them whatever they want to know," Jace said.

Maryse sighed and turned her blue eyes on Clary. "So you

want to go to Idris, I take it?"

"Just for a few days. I won't be any trouble," Clary said, gaz­

ing entreatingly pastJace's white-hot glare at Maryse. "I swear."

"The question isn't whether you'll be any trouble; the ques­

tion is whether you'll be willing to meet with the Clave while

you're there. They want to talk to you. If you say no, I doubt we

can get the authorization to bring you with us."

"No-," Jace began.

"I'll meet with the Clave," Clary interrupted, though the

thought sent a ripple of cold down her spine. The only emissary

of the Clave she'd known so far was the Inquisitor, who hadn't

exactly been pleasant to be around.

Maryse rubbed at her temples with her fingertips . "Then

it's settled." She didn't sound settled, though; she sounded

as tense and fragile as an overtightened violin string. "Jace,

show Clary out and then come see me in the library. I need

to talk to you."

She disappeared back into the shadows without even a

word of farewell. Clary stared after her, feeling as if she'd just

been drenched with ice water. Alec and Isabelle seemed genu­

inely fond of their mother, and she was sure Maryse wasn't a

bad person, really, but she wasn't exactly warm .

]ace's mouth was a hard line. "Now look what you've done."

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