City of Lost Souls

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright ? 2012 by Cassandra Claire LLC

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

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Book design by Mike Rosamilia


The text for this book is set in Dolly.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Clare, Cassandra.

City of lost souls / Cassandra Clare.—1st ed.

p. cm.—(The mortal instruments ; bk. 5) Summary: When Jace vanishes with Sebastian, Clary and the Shadowhunters struggle to piece together their shattered world and Clary infiltrates the group planning the world’s destruction.

ISBN 978-1-4424-1686-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-44241688-8 (eBook)

[1. Supernatural—Fiction. 2. Demonology—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction. 4. Vampires—Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 6. Horror stories.] I. Title.

PZ7.C5265Ckl 2012

[Fic]—dc23

2011042547





For Nao,

Tim, David,

and Ben





No man chooses evil because it is evil.

He only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.

—Mary Wollstonecraft





Contents


Prologue

Part One: No Evil Angel

Chapter 1 : The Last Council

Chapter 2 : Thorns

Chapter 3 : Bad Angels

Chapter 4 : And Immortality

Chapter 5 : Valentine’s Son

Chapter 6 : No Weapon in this World

Chapter 7 : A Sea Change

Part Two: Certain Dark Things

Chapter 8 : Fire Tests Gold

Chapter 9 : The Iron Sisters

Chapter 10: The Wild Hunt

Chapter 11: Ascribe All Sin

Chapter 12: The Stuff of Heaven

Chapter 13: The Bone Chandelier

Chapter 14: As Ashes

Chapter 15: Magdalena

Chapter 16: Brothers and Sisters

Chapter 17: Valediction

Part Three: All Is Changed

Chapter 18: Raziel

Chapter 19: Love and Blood

Chapter 20: A Door into the Dark

Chapter 21: Raising Hell

Epilogue

Notes

Acknowledgments





PROLOGUE



Simon stood and stared numbly at the front door of his house.

He’d never known another home. This was the place his parents had brought him back to when he was born. He had grown up within the walls of the Brooklyn row house. He’d played on the street under the leafy shade of the trees in the summer, and had made improvised sleds out of garbage can lids in the winter. In this house his family had sat shivah after his father had died. Here he had kissed Clary for the first time.

He had never imagined a day when the door of the house would be closed to him. The last time he had seen his mother, she had called him a monster and prayed at him that he would go away. He had made her forget that he was a vampire, using glamour, but he had not known how long the glamour would last. As he stood in the cold autumn air, staring in front of him, he knew it had not lasted long enough.

The door was covered with signs—Stars of David splashed on in paint, the incised shape of the symbol for Chai, life. Tefillin were bound to the doorknob and knocker. A hamsa, the Hand of God, covered the peephole.

Numbly he put his hand to the metal mezuzah affixed to the right side of the doorway. He saw the smoke rise from the place where his hand touched the holy object, but he felt nothing. No pain. Only a terrible empty blankness, rising slowly into cold rage.

He kicked the bottom of the door and heard the echo through the house. “Mom!” he shouted. “Mom, it’s me!”

There was no reply—only the sound of the bolts being turned on the door. His sensitized hearing had recognized his mother’s footsteps, her breathing, but she said nothing. He could smell acrid fear and panic even through the wood. “Mom!” His voice broke. “Mom, this is ridiculous! Let me in! It’s me, Simon!”

The door juddered, as if she had kicked it. “Go away!” Her voice was rough, unrecognizable with terror. “Murderer!”

“I don’t kill people.” Simon leaned his head against the door. He knew he could probably kick it down, but what would be the point? “I told you. I drink animal blood.”

“You killed my son,” she said. “You killed him and put a monster in his place.”

“I am your son—”

“You wear his face and speak with his voice, but you are not him! You’re not Simon!” Her voice rose to almost a scream. “Get away from my house before I kill you, monster!”