He gripped her so tightly she could barely breathe. Then he let go. He did it as if he was forcing himself, as if he were starving and he was putting aside the last piece of food he had. But he did it.

Quip fast, die young.

Emma's heart was pounding. She chanced a look up at Julian. For the briefest of moments he looked like someone who'd been staggering through the Mojave Desert, half-dead from the sun, and had seen a glimmer of water up ahead only to have it turn out to be a mirage. "Still no Mark?" Emma said hastily as Cristina reached them. Not that there was a real reason Cristina would know where Mark was; Emma just didn't want her looking at Julian. Not when he looked like that.

What'd he said in the car--he'd meant it. His gaze had been level and direct as he'd spoken. It had been *Julian* talking, her Jules, the one who lived in her bones and her brain and at the base of her spine, the one who was threaded all through her like veins or nerves.

He always wanted to play video games,” said Emma. “I hate video games.”“No one is perfect, Emma.”“But some people are perfect for each other. Don’t you think that has to be true?

Ty, no one could have expected that,' Emma said. 'I mean, Julian said some words, and boom, Hell's tractor beam.

Is it a wart?" said Malcolm. "I can cure that, but it'll cost you.""Why does everyone always think it's a wart?

I am no longer a Silent Brother," he said. "Only an ordinary man. My name is James, James Carstairs. But everyone calls me Jem.

He will choose us," Julian said. "We are his family."Kieran's eye shone. "I wouldn'tbe so sure, young Shadowhunter. Those of the Hunt are loyal to the Hunt.""He isn't of the Hunt," Emma said. "He is a Blackthorn.

You belong where you’re loved.