Cassandra Clare Spoiler

http://mortalinstruments.com/COLS-DSCS.html

Well, here 'tis. The DSCS.(Dirty Sexy Club Scene) from City of Lost Souls.

Now keep in mind a version of this does still exist in the books, but it is much less . . . well. You'll see. I wrote this in Mexico, probably having had too much mezcal, and I was trying to capture a mood of really dark, tipping over the edge sensuality, doing things that are probably a bad idea, you get the picture. I also recall reading bits of this aloud to Holly Black, Paolo Bacigalupi, Ellen Kushner, Sarah Rees Brennan, and Delia Sherman, who never dropped her knitting. So it can't be that naughty...can it?

I think for those who really hate spoilers you might want to avoid this because the things about it that may be the most shocking are not the sexy bits but the beginning....

***

"What's going on?" It was Jace, having fought his way free of the pack of dancers. More of the shimmering stuff had gotten on him, silver drops clinging to the gold of his hair. "Clary?"

"Sorry," she said, getting to her feet. "I got lost in the crowd."

"I noticed," he said. "One second I was dancing with you, and the next you were gone and a very persistent werewolf was trying to get the buttons on my jeans undone." He took Clary's hand, lightly ringing her wrist with his fingers. "Do you want to go home? Or dance some more?"

"Dance some more," she said, breathlessly. "Is that all right?"

"Go ahead." Sebastian leaned back, his hands braced behind him on the fountain's edge, his smile like the edge of a straight razor. "I don't mind watching."

Something flashed across Clary's vision: the memory of a bloody handprint. It was gone as soon as it had come and she frowned. The night was too beautiful to think of ugly things. She looked back at her brother only for a moment before she let Jace lead her back through the crowd to its edge, near the shadows, where the press of bodies was lighter. Another ball of colored light burst above their heads as they went, scattering silver, and she tipped her head up, catching the salt-sweet drops on her tongue.

Jace stopped and swung her toward him. She could feel the silver liquid trickling down her face like tears. He pulled her against him and kissed them, as if he were kissing tears away, and his lips were warm on her face and made her shiver. She reached for the zip on his army jacket, ripped it down, slid her hands inside and over the cotton of his shirt, then under the hem, her nails scratching lightly over his ribs. He stopped and cupped the back of her neck with his hand, leaning to whisper in her ear. Neither of them could be said to be dancing any more: the hypnotic music went on around them, but Clary barely noticed it. A couple dancing past laughed and made a derisive comment in Czech: she couldn't understand it, but suspected the gist was get a room.

Jace made an impatient noise and then he was pulling her after him again, through the last of the crowd and into one of the shadowy alcoves that lined the walls.

This alcove was conical, with a low stone pedestal in the center on which an angel statue, about three feet tall, stood. It was made of black basalt, but its eyes were glass, like doll eyes, and its wings were silver. The floor was slippery and damp. They skidded across it to fetch up against a wall, Jace with his back to it, and then he was kissing her, bruising hard and hungry kisses. He tasted salt-sweet, too, and moaned as she licked the taste off his lips. Her hands threaded through his hair. It was dark in the alcove, so dark Jace was just an outline of shadows and gold. She gripped the edges of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders; it fell to the ground and he kicked it away. Her hands came up under his shirt, clawing at his back, fingers digging into the skin there, softness layered over hard muscle.

He kissed her harder and she clutched his shoulders as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down on it, sending a shock of pleasure mixed with pain through her body. She squirmed to get closer to him and felt his breath quicken; she could taste blood in her mouth, salt and hot. It was as if they wanted to cut each other apart, she thought, to climb inside each other and breathe each other's breath and share each other's heartbeats, even if it killed them both. There was blood under her nails where she had clawed his back.

Jace pressed her forward, spinning them both around so she was pinned between his body and the wall. As they turned, he caught the edge of the angel statue, toppling it to the ground and shattering apart in a cloud of marble dust. He laughed and dropped to the ground in front of her on his knees among the remnants of broken statuary. She stared down at him in a daze as he ran his hands up her boots, to her bare legs, to the lace that edged the bottom of her slip dress. She sucked in her breath, as his hands slipped like water up and over the silk, to her waist, to grip her hips, leaving streaks of silver on the silk.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. "Jace?"

He looked up at her. The peculiar light in the club turned his eyes an array of fractured colors. His smile was wicked. "You can tell me to stop whenever you want," he said. "But you won't."

"Jace..." His hands bunched in the silk of her dress, dragging the hem up, and he bent to kiss her legs, the bare skin where her boots ended, her knees (who knew knees could be so sensitive?) and farther up, where no one had ever kissed her before. The kisses were light, and even as her body tensed that she wanted to tell him she needed more, but didn't know what, didn't know what she needed exactly, but it didn't matter because he seemed to know it. She let her head fall back against the wall, half-closing her eyes, hearing only her heartbeat like a drum in her ears, louder and louder still.

X XX XXX

http://cassandraclare.livejournal.com/58750.html#cutid1 So here's the second part of the reward teasers: A love scene from Clockwork Prince. It is VERY SPOILERY. It is interesting, I think, because it shows us a different side of a character we know. Whereas yesterday's teaser was, ah, very physical, this one is more ..psychological and romantic. If you don't like being spoiled, really, don't read it! It's only 3 months till the books comes out anyway. ;) Tomorrow: Magnus and Alec.

He flinched away from her, and Tessa dropped her hand, hurt. “Jem, what it is it? You don‟t want me to touch you?” “Not like that,” he flared, and then flushed even darker than before. “Like what?” She was honestly bewildered; this was behavior she might have expected from Will, but not from Jem: this mysteriousness, this anger. “As if you were a nurse and I were your patient. You think because I am ill I am not like —” He drew a ragged breath. “Do you think I do not know,” he went on more quietly, “that when you take my hand, it is only so that you can feel my pulse? Do you think I do not know that when you look into my eyes it is only to see examine my pupils, to see how much of the drug I have taken? If I were another man, a normal man, I might have hopes, presumptions even; I might -—” His words seemed to catch; either because he realized he had said too much or because he had run out of breath. She shook her head, feeling her plaits tickle her neck. “This is the fever speaking, not you.” His eyes darkened, and he began to turn away from her. “You can‟t even believe I could want you,” he said in a half-whisper. “That I am alive enough, healthy enough —” “No.” Without thinking, she caught at his arm. He stiffened. “James, that's not at all what I meant —” He curled his fingers around her hand, where it lay on his arm. His own scorched her skin, hot as fire. And then he turned her, and drew her toward him. They stood face to face, chest to chest. His breath stirred her hair. She felt the fever rising off him like mist off the Thames; sensed the pounding of the blood through his skin, saw with a strange clarity the pulse at his neck, the light on the pale curls of his hair where it lay against his paler throat. Prickles of heat ran up and down her skin, bewildering her. This was Jem — her friend, steady and reliable as a heartbeat. Jem did not set her skin on fire or make the blood rush fast inside her veins until she was dizzy. Did he? “Tessa,” he said. She looked up at him. There was nothing steady or reliable about his expression. His silver eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed. As she raised her face, he brought his down, his mouth slanting across hers, and even as she froze in surprise they were kissing.

X XX XXX

http://cassandraclare.livejournal.com/58947.html#cutid1 So here's the bonus part of the reward teasers: A scene from CoLS about Magnus and Alec. I get asked constantly if they will be in it and I hope this is somewhat reassuring that yes, indeed, they will be, with their very own plotline and all that. It's a short scene because it's smack in the middle of a giant spoiler. In fact I had to take out everything that even indicated where they were. Somewhere dark . . .but light can come from the strangest of sources. Alec dropped his witchlight. The light winked out, and he fell to his knees, scrabbling on the ground among the trash and the dirt, grit under his fingernails. At last something lit up before his eyes, and he rose to see Magnus standing before him, the witchlight in his hand. It shone and flickered with a strangely-colored light. “It shouldn‟t illuminate like that,” Alec said, automatically. “For anyone but a Shadowhunter.” Magnus held it out. The heart of the witchlight was glowing a dark red, like the coal of a fire. “Is it because of your father?” Alec asked. Magnus didn‟t reply, only tipped the runestone into Alec‟s palm. As their hands touched, his face changed. “You‟re freezing cold.” “I am?” “Alexander . . .” Magnus pulled him to his feet, and the witchlight flickered between them, its color changing rapidly. Alec had never seen a witchlight runestone do that before. He put his head against Magnus‟ shoulder and let Magnus hold him. Magnus‟ heart didn‟t beat like human hearts did: it was slower, but steady. Sometimes Alec thought it was the steadiest thing in his life. “Kiss me,” Alec said, tipping his head up; Magnus eyes were sad and shadowed, and unreadable.

Magnus put his hand to the side of Alec‟s face and gently, almost absently, ran his thumb along Alec‟s cheekbone. When he bent to kiss him he smelled like sandalwood. Alec clutched the sleeve of Magnus‟ jacket, and the witchlight, held between their bodies, flared up in colors of rose and blue and green as their lips touched. X XX XXX

Halloween Special: Clockwork Prince teaser: From mid-book:

Will looked at Jem. His eyes were bluer than blue, his cheeks flushed.

He said, “Then you have wasted your time.”

Jem stared back at him. “God damn you,” he said, and hit Will across the face, sending him spinning. He didn‟t lose his footing, but fetched up against the side of the carriage, his hand to his cheek. His mouth was bleeding. He looked at Jem with total astonishment.

“Get him into the carriage,” Jem said to Tessa, and turned and went back through the red door — to pay for whatever Will had taken, Tessa thought. Will was still staring after him. “James?” he said.

X XX XXX

Will blinked at her. “What?” “Gideon and Gabriel,” said Tessa. “They‟re really quite good-looking, not hideous at all.” “I spoke,” said Will, in sepulchral tones, “of the pitch-black inner depths of their souls.” Tessa snorted. “And what color do you suppose the inner depths of your soul are, Will Herondale?” “Mauve,” said Will. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Will‟s voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jem.” “Yes,” said Jem. “You just make more of them than most people.” “I —” “You hurt everyone,” said Jem. “Everyone whose life you touch.” “Not you,” Will whispered. “I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to hurt you.” Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Will —” “You can‟t never forgive me,” Will said in disbelief, hearing the panic tinging his own voice. “I‟d be —” “Alone?” Jem lowered his hand, but he was smiling now, crookedly. “And whose fault is that?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “He‟s Nephilim,” said his companion. “And you‟ve never cared for them.

How much did he pay you?” “Nothing,” said Magnus, and now he was not seeing anything that was there, not the river, not Will, only a wash of memories: eyes, faces, lips, receding into memory, love that he could no longer put a name to. “He did me a favor. One he doesn‟t even remember.” “He‟s very pretty. For a human.” “He‟s very broken,” said Magnus. “Like a lovely vase that someone has smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was before.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Say something in Mandarin,” said Tessa, with a smile. Jem said something that sounded like a lot of breathy vowels and consonants run together, his voice rising and falling melodically: “Nihen piao liang.” “What did you say?” Tessa was curious. “I said your hair is coming undone — here,” he said, and reached out and tucked an escaping curl back behind her ear. Tessa felt the blood spill hot up into her face, and was glad for the dimness of the carriage. “You have to be careful with it,” he said, taking his hand back, slowly, his fingers lingering against her cheek. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “What desperation drove you to me, in the middle of the night, in a
 rainstorm? What has changed at the Institute? I can only think of one
 thing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Will: ““Tess,” he said, and she thought, once again, how no one but him ever called her that. “That is all I think about.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

X XX XXX

February 2011 Teaser: Clockwork Prince They slowed finally at the southeastern corner of the church. Watery daylight poured through the rose windows overhead.

“I know we are in a hurry to get to the Council meeting,” said Jem.

“But I wanted you to see this.” He gestured around them. “Poet‟s Corner.”


 Tessa had read of the place, of course, where the great poets and writers of England were buried. There was the gray stone tomb of Chaucer, with its canopy, and other familiar names: Edmund Spenser, who had written The Faerie Queen, “Oh, and Milton,” she gasped,

“and Coleridge, and Robert Burns, and Shakespeare —”


“He isn‟t really buried here,” said Jem, quickly. “It‟s just a monument.”


“Oh, I know, but —” She looked at him, and felt herself flush. “I can‟t explain it. It‟s like being among friends, being among these names. Silly, I know . . .”


“Not silly at all.” 
 She smiled at him. “How did you know just what I‟d want to see?”


“How could I not?” he said. “When I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mind‟s eye always with a book in your hand.”

He looked away from her as he said it, but not before she caught the slight flush on his cheekbones. He was so pale, he could never hide even the least blush, she thought — and was surprised how affectionate the thought was.


She had become very fond of Jem over the past fortnight; Will had been studiously avoiding her, Charlotte and Henry were caught up in issues of Clave and Council and the running of the Institute —even Jessamine seemed preoccupied.

But Jem was always there. He seemed to take his role as her guide to London seriously: they had been to Hyde Park and Kew Gardens, the National Gallery and the British Museum, the Tower of London and Traitor‟s Gate. They gone to see the cows being milked in St James Park, the fruit and vegetable sellers in Covent Garden, had watched the boats sailing on the sun-sparked Thames from the Embankment. And as the days went on, Tessa felt herself unfolding slowly out of her quiet, huddled unhappiness over Nate and Will and the loss of her old life, like a flower climbing out of frozen ground. She had even found herself laughing. And she had Jem to thank for it.


“You are a good friend,” she exclaimed, and when, to her surprise, he said nothing to that, she said, “At least, I hope we are good friends. You do think so too, don‟t you, Jem?”


 He turned to look at her.

X XX XXX

CP deleted scene: The darkness came and went in waves that grew ever slower. Tessa was
 beginning to feel lighter, less like an awful weight was

pressing her
 down. She wondered how much time had passed. It was night in the
 infirmary, and she could see Will a few beds away from her, a curled
 figure under the blankets, dark head pillowed on his arm. Brother
 Enoch had given him a tisane to drink once the [redacted] was cut out
 of his skin, and he had fallen asleep almost instantly, thank God. The
 sight of him in that much pain had been more harrowing than she could
 have imagined.
 She was in a clean white nightgown now; someone must have cut away her
 bloodstiffened clothes and washed her hair before bandaging her — it
 lay softly over his shoulders, no longer twisted into rat-tails of
 tangles and drying blood.
 „Tessa,” came a whispered voice. “Tess?”
 Only Will calls me that. She opened her eyes, but it was Jem seated on
 the side of her bed, looking down at her. The moonlight spilling
 through the high ceilings turned him almost transparent, an ethereal
 angel, all silver but for the gold chain at his throat.
 He smiled. “You‟re awake.”
 “I‟ve been awake here and there.” She coughed. “Enough to know I‟m all
 right besides a crack on the head. A lot of fuss about nothing —”
 Tessa‟s eyes dropped, and she saw that Jem was carrying something in
 his hands: a thick mug of some liquid that sent up a fragrant steam.
 “What‟s that?”
 “One of Brother Enoch‟s tisanes,” said Jem. “It will help you sleep.”
 “All I‟ve been doing is sleeping!”
 “And very amusing it is to watch,” said Jem. “Did you know you twitch
 your nose when you sleep, like a rabbit?”
 “I do not,” she said, with a whispered laugh.
 “You do,” he said. “Fortunately, I like rabbits.” He handed her the
 cup. “Drink just a little,” He said. “It is right for you to sleep.
 Brother Enoch says to think of the wounds and shocks to your spirit as
 you would think of wounds and shocks to your body. You must rest the
 injured part of yourself before you begin to heal.”
 Tessa was dubious, but she took a sip of the tisane anyway, and then
 another. It had a pleasant taste, like cinnamon. Barely had she
 swallowed the second mouthful when a feeling of exhaustion swept over
 her. She lay back against the pillows, listening to his soft voice
 telling her a story about a beautiful young woman whose husband had
 died building the Great Wall of China, and who had cried so much over
 his loss that she had turned into a silvery fish and swum away across
 a river. As Tessa drifted off into dreams, she felt his gentle hands
 take the cup from her and set it down on the bedside table. She wanted
 to thank him, but she was already asleep.

X XX XXX

April Teaser: Clockwork Prince He reached up and unlocked Tessa‟s hands from around his neck. He drew her gloves off, and they joined her mask and the hairpins on the stone floor of the balcony. He pulled off his own mask next and cast it aside, running his hands through his sweat-dampened hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The lower edge of the mask had left marks across his high cheekbones, like light scars, but when she reached to touch them, he gently caught at her hands and pressed them down.


“No,” he said. “Let me touch you first.”

X XX XXX

August: Since July was a COLS teaser, August is Clockwork Prince.

Dear sensible Miss Gray, 
 I write to you on behalf of a mutual friend, one William Herondale. I know that it is his habit to come and go — most often go — from the Institute as he pleases, and that therefore it may be some time before any alarm is raised at his absence.

But I ask you, as one who holds your good sense in esteem, not to assume this absence to be of the ordinary sort. I saw him myself last night and he was, to say the least, distraught when he left my residence.

I have reason for concern that he might do himself an injury, and therefore I suggest that his whereabouts be sought and his safety ascertained.

He is a difficult young man to like but I believe you see the good in him, as I do, Miss Gray, and that is why I humbly address my letter to you —
 Your servant,
 Magnus Bane

X XX XXX

“Must he be here?” Gabriel growled to Tessa the second time he had nearly dropped a knife while handing it to her. He put a hand on her shoulder, showing her the sight line for the target she was aiming at a black circle drawn on the wall. She knew how much he would rather she were aiming at Will. “Can‟t you tell him to go away?” “Now, why would I do that?” Tessa asked reasonably. “Will is my friend, and you are someone whom I do not even like.” She threw the knife. It missed its target by several feet, striking low in the wall near the floor. “No, you‟re still weighting the point too much—and what do you mean, you don‟t like me?” Gabriel demanded.

X XX XXX