For Elias and Jonah Acknowledgments Them that I love, know that I love them This time I want to thank my readers, who have stuck with me through this whole epic roller coaster of a saga, through cliff-hangers and angst and feels I wouldn’t trade you for all the glitter in Magnus’s loft In God ’tis glory: And when men aspire, ’Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire —John Dryden, “Absalom and Achitophel” PROLOGUE: FALL LIKE RAIN The Los Angeles Institute, December 2007 On the day Emma Carstairs’s parents were killed, the weather was perfect On the other hand the weather was usually perfect in Los Angeles Emma’s mother and father dropped her off on a clear winter morning at the Institute in the hills behind the Pacific Coast Highway, overlooking the blue ocean The sky was a cloudless expanse 7/1353 that stretched from the cliffs of the Pacific Palisades to the beaches at Point Dume A report had come in the night before of demonic activity near the beach caves of Leo Carrillo The Carstairs had been assigned to look into it Later Emma would remember her mother tucking a windblown strand of hair behind her ear as she offered to draw a Fearless rune on Emma’s father, and John Carstairs laughing and saying he wasn’t sure how he felt about newfangled runes He was fine with what was written in the Gray Book, thanks very much At the time, though, Emma was impatient with her parents, hugging them quickly before pulling away to race up the Institute steps, her backpack bouncing between her shoulders as they waved good-bye from the courtyard Emma loved that she got to train at the Institute Not only did her best friend, Julian, live there, but she always felt as if she 8/1353 were flying into the ocean when she went inside it It was a massive structure of wood and stone at the end of a long pebbled drive that wound through the hills Every room, every floor, looked out over the ocean and the mountains and the sky, rippling expanses of blue and green and gold Emma’s dream was to climb up onto the roof with Jules—though, so far they’d been foiled by parents—to see if the view stretched all the way to the desert in the south The front doors knew her and gave way easily under her familiar touch The entryway and lower floors of the Institute were full of adult Shadowhunters, striding back and forth Some kind of meeting, Emma guessed She caught sight of Julian’s father, Andrew Blackthorn, the head of the Institute, amid the crowd Not wanting to be slowed down by greetings, she dashed for the changing room on the second floor, where she swapped her jeans and T-shirt for 9/1353 training clothes—oversize shirt, loose cotton pants, and the most important item of all: the blade slung over her shoulder Cortana The name simply meant “shortsword,” but it wasn’t short to Emma It was the length of her forearm, sparkling metal, the blade inscribed with words that never failed to cause a shiver down her spine: I am Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal Her father had explained what it meant when he put the sword in her ten-year-old hands for the first time “You can use this for training until you’re eighteen, when it becomes yours,” John Carstairs had said, smiling down at her as her fingers traced the words “Do you understand what that means?” She’d shaken her head “Steel” she’d understood, but not “temper.” “Temper” meant “anger,” something her father was always warning her she should control What did it have to with a blade? 10/1353 “You know of the Wayland family,” he’d said “They were famous weapon makers before the Iron Sisters began to forge all the Shadowhunter blades Wayland the Smith made Excalibur and Joyeuse, Arthur’s and Lancelot’s swords, and Durendal, the sword of the hero Roland And they made this sword too, from the same steel All steel must be tempered—subjected to great heat, almost enough to melt or destroy the metal—to make it stronger.” He’d kissed the top of her head “Carstairs have carried this sword for generations The inscription reminds us that Shadowhunters are the Angel’s weapons Temper us in the fire, and we grow stronger When we suffer, we survive.” Emma could hardly wait the six years until she would be eighteen, when she could travel the world to fight demons, when she could be tempered in fire Now she strapped the sword on and left the changing room, picturing how it would be In her 1339/1353 his fingers one by one until his hand was open She placed the slightly battered silver ring onto it “A Herondale ring?” He sounded bewildered “Where did you ” “It used to belong to James Herondale,” she said “I don’t have a family tree around, so I don’t know what that means exactly, but he was clearly one of your ancestors I remember you saying the Iron Sisters would have to make you a new ring because Stephen hadn’t left you one—but now you have one.” He slid it onto the ring finger of his right hand “Every time,” he said quietly “Every time I think I’m missing a piece of me, you give it back.” There were no words, so she didn’t say any; just turned around in his arms and kissed him on the cheek He was beautiful under the night sky, the stars shedding their 1340/1353 light down over him, gleaming against his hair and eyes and the Herondale ring shining on his finger, a reminder of everything that had been, and everything that would be We are all the pieces of what we remember We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss “Do you like the name Herondale?” he asked “It’s your name, so I love it,” she said “There are some pretty bad Shadowhunter names I could have ended up with,” he said “Bloodstick Ravenhaven.” “Bloodstick can’t possibly be a name.” “It may have fallen out of favor,” he acknowledged “Herondale, on the other hand, is melodic Dulcet, one might say Think of the sound of ‘Clary Herondale.’ ” “Oh, my God, that sounds horrible.” “We all must sacrifice for love.” He grinned, and reached around her to pick up 1341/1353 the Codex “This is old An old edition,” he said, turning it over “The inscription on the back is Milton.” “Of course you know that,” she said fondly, and leaned against him as he turned the book over in his hands Magnus had started a fire, and it was burning merrily at the lakeside, sending up sparks into the sky The reflection of the burning raced along the scarlet of Isabelle’s necklace as she turned to say something to Simon, and it shone in the sharp gleam of Magnus’s eyes and along the water of the lake, turning the ripples to lines of gold It picked out the inscription written on the back of the Codex, as Jace read the words aloud to Clary, his voice as soft as music in the glittering dark “Freely we serve Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall.” Turn the page for a sneak peek at Cassandra Clare’s new series, The Dark Artifices A Letter from the Faerie Court to the Los Angeles Institute THE DARK ARTIFICES BOOK ONE Lady Midnight COMING FALL 2015 CASSANDRA CLARE is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Mortal Instruments series and the Infernal Devices trilogy She was born overseas and spent her early years traveling around the world with her family and several trunks of books Cassandra lives in western Massachusetts with her husband, their cats, and these days, even more books Visit her online at cassandraclare.com mortalinstruments.com 1345/1353 Margaret K McElderry Books SIMON & SCHUSTER * NEW YORK Watch videos, get extras, and read exclusives at TEEN.SimonandSchuster.com authors.simonandschuster.com/CassandraClare Also by Cassandra Clare THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS City of Bones City of Ashes City of Glass City of Fallen Angels City of Lost Souls THE INFERNAL DEVICES Clockwork Angel 1347/1353 Clockwork Prince Clockwork Princess THE SHADOWHUNTER’S CODEX With Joshua Lewis MARGARET K McELDERRY BOOKS An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com 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 © 2014 by Cassandra Claire, LLC Jacket photo-illustration copyright © 2014 by Cliff Nielsen 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 The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1349/1353 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com Cover design by Russell Gordon Interior design by Michael Rosamilia CIP data is available from the Library of Congress ISBN 978-1-4424-1689-5 (hardcover) ISBN 978-1-4424-1691-8 (eBook) CONTENTS Acknowledgments Epigraph Prologue: Fall like Rain Part One: Bring Forth a Fire Chapter 1: The Portion of Their Cup Chapter 2: Stand or Fall Chapter 3: Birds to the Mountain Chapter 4: Darker than Gold Chapter 5: Measure of Revenge Chapter 6: Brother Lead and Sister Steel Chapter 7: Clash by Night 1351/1353 Chapter 8: Strength in What Remains Chapter 9: The Arms You Bear Chapter 10: These Violent Delights Chapter 11: The Best Is Lost Chapter 12: The Formal Nightmare Chapter 13: Paved with Good Intentions Part Two: That World Inverted Chapter 14: The Sleep of Reason Chapter 15: Brimstone and Salt Chapter 16: The Terrors of the Earth Chapter 17: Burnt Offerings Chapter 18: By the Waters of Babylon Chapter 19: Into the Silent Land Chapter 20: The Serpents of the Dust Chapter 21: The Keys of Death and Hell Chapter 22: The Ashes of Our Fathers Chapter 23: Judas Kiss Chapter 24: Call It Peace 1352/1353 Epilogue: The Beauty of a Thousand Stars About Cassandra Clare @Created by PDF to ePub ... of a saga, through cliff-hangers and angst and feels I wouldn’t trade you for all the glitter in Magnus’s loft In God ’tis glory: And when men aspire, ’Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire. .. lower floors of the Institute were full of adult Shadowhunters, striding back and forth Some kind of meeting, Emma guessed She caught sight of Julian’s father, Andrew Blackthorn, the head of the Institute,... structure of wood and stone at the end of a long pebbled drive that wound through the hills Every room, every floor, looked out over the ocean and the mountains and the sky, rippling expanses of blue