The Mortal Instruments - 4 - The City of Fallen Angels by Cassandra Clare

Author:Cassandra Clare
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Years previously, when Long Island City had been a center of industry instead of a trendy

neighborhood full of art galleries and coffee shops, the Ironworks was a textile factory.

Now it was an enormous brick shell whose inside had been transformed into a spare but

beautiful space. The floor was made up of overlapping squares of brushed steel; slender

steel beams arced overhead, wrapped with ropes of tiny white lights. Ornate wrought iron

staircases spiraled up to catwalks decorated with hanging plants. A massive cantilevered

glass ceiling opened onto a view of the night sky. There was even a terrace outside, built

out over the East River, with a spectacular view of the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge, which

loomed overhead, stretching from Queens to Manhattan like a spear of tinseled ice.

Luke’s pack had outdone themselves making the place look nice. There were artfully

placed huge pewter vases holding long-stemmed ivory flowers, and tables covered in

white linen arranged in a circle around a raised stage on which a werewolf string quartet

provided classical music. Clary couldn’t help wishing Simon were there; she was pretty

sure he’d think Werewolf String Quartet was a good name for a band.

Clary wandered from table to table, arranging things that didn’t need arranging, fiddling

with flowers and straightening silverware that wasn’t actually crooked. Only a few of the

guests had arrived so far, and none of them were people she knew. Her mother and Luke

stood near the door, greeting people and smiling, Luke looking uncomfortable ina suit,

and Jocelynradiant in a tailored blue dress.After the events of the pastfewdays, itwas

good to see her mother looking happy, though Clary wondered how much of it was real

and how much was for show. There was a certain tightness about Jocelyn’s mouth that

made Clary worry—was she actually happy, or just smiling through the pain?

Not that Clary didn’t know how she felt. Whatever else was going on, she couldn’t put

Jace out of her mind. What were the Silent Brothers doing to him? Was he all right?

Were they going to be able to fix what was wrong with him, to block out the demon

influence? She had spent a sleepless night the evening before staring into the darkness of

her bedroom and worrying until she felt literally sick.

More than anything else, she wished he was here. She had picked out the dress she was

wearing tonight—pale gold and more fitted to her body than anything she usually wore—

with the express hope that Jace would like it; now he wasn’t going to see her in it. That

was a shallow thing to worry about, she knew; she’d go around dressed in a barrel for the

rest of her life if it meant Jace would get better. Besides, he was always telling her she

was beautiful, and he never complained about the fact that she mostly wore jeans and

sneakers, but she had thought he would like this.

Standing in front of her mirror tonight, she had almost felt beautiful. Her mother had

always said that she herself had been a late bloomer, and Clary, looking at her own

reflection, had wondered if the same thing might happen to her.

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