Magnus glared at him out of gold-green eyes. “If I wanted to lie on a couch and
complain to someone about my parents, I’d hire a psychiatrist.”
“Ah,” said Jace. “But my services are free.”
“I heard that about you.

This time Magnus answered it, his voice booming through the tiny entryway. "WHO DARES DISTURB MY REST?"
Jace looked almost nervous. "Jace Wayland. Remember? I'm from the Clave."
"Oh, yes." Magnus seemed to have perked up. "Are you the one with the blue eyes?"
"He means Alec," Clary said helpfully.
"No. My eyes are usually described as golden," Jace told the intercom. "And luminous."
"Oh, you're that one." Magnus sounded disappointed. If Clary hadn't been so upset, she would have laughed. "I suppose you'd better come up.

Hey, pretty thing," he said. "What's in the bag?"
"Holy water," said Jace, reappearing beside her as if he'd been conjured up like a genie. A sarcastic blond genie with a bad attitude.
"Oooh, a Shadowhunter," said the vampire. "Scary." With a wink he melted back into the crowd.
"Vampires are such prima donnas," Magnus sighed from the doorway. "Honestly, I don't know why I have these parties."
"Because of your cat," Clary reminded him.
Magnus perked up. "That's true. Chairman Meow deserves my every effort.

Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests."
Jace edged into the doorway, sizing up Magnus with his eyes. "Even if one of them spills a drink on my new shoes?"

"Even then.

As for this," Magnus said sliding the stele into Jace's jeans pocket, "keep it in your pants, Shadowhunter." - 219

Magnus stood up and went to the window. He pushed the curtain back, letting in just enough light to silhouette his hawklike profile. "Blood," he said, half to himself. "I had a dream two nights ago. I saw a city all of blood, with towers made of bone, and blood ran in the streets like water."
Simon slewed his eyes over to Jace. "Is standing by the window muttering about blood something he does all the time?"
"No," said Jace, "sometimes he sits on the couch and does it.