City of Bones Chapter 12

Now that I know this book was named after a city made of other people's cremains, typing that title gives me the fucking willies. Anyway, the party.

They do not go to the party. Oh no. This would cut into Clary's agnsty time.

I don't get why agnst is so cool. Usually if you're in a situation deserving of the wallowing, your too busy. At this point in time I'd be more worried about my Mom. Actually, at this point I would have figured out that my Dad was Magic Hitler and I would be taking the thousandth of infinite showers, or else ingesting copious amounts of mental bleach in an effort to make things okay.

Anyway, Clary must agnst about having people dig around in her head some more. Okay, I'd be nervy too, but I'd be more like, "Uh, you think going into a demon/warlock party with the warlock's former worst enemies (AGAIN. THE SHADOW HUNTERS ARE THE MAGICAL SS. REFORMED. KIND OF.)  isn't going to cause a lot of problems?" instead of "OMG SOMEONE WILL BE IN MY HEAD."

Also, we get to see vampires. Who are using motorcycles. Modified to run on demon energy.

Let me rephrase that: VAMPIRES RIDE ON HARLEYS FUELED BY THE SCREAMS OF THE DAMNED.

Why are we following magic nazis around again?

So they go up to the door, which takes about another page and a half, and Magnus Bane comes to the door. And he is...hehe...he's...*sporfle* he...Oh, screw it. He's Bobby Trendy.

Clary guessed from the curve of his sleepy eyes and the gold tone of his evenly tanned skin that he was part Asian. He wore jeans and a black shirt covered with dozens of metal buckles. His eyes were crusted with a raccoon mask of charcoal glitter, his lips painted a dark shade of blue. He raked a ring-laden hand through his spiked hair and regarded them thoughtfully.

You have no idea how happy I was to find one with blue lips.

He invites them in and tells them not to murder any of the guests. With this lot, that's something you need to say, especially since Jace responds, "Even if they spill a drink on my new shoes?"

He's a real winner, Clary. /sarcasm.

They go through the party. The description is actually pretty good. I also love how blood is always described as  "liquid too thick to be wine". Whenever I see it I always get the feeling that the author has never handled a lot of either blood or wine. Wine and blood? Look. NOTHING. Alike. Not that I've ever seen a cup of blood. But having handled six gazillion glasses of wine? I cannot imagine anyone EVER mistaking it for a glass of blood, or vice versa.

And just when there's a risk of the plot advancing, first Simon and Isabelle dirty dance on the disco floor, and then somebody pours holy water into a vampire's gas tank, utterly destroying the ENTIRE BIKE. FINALLY, though, he takes Clary and Jace to his bedroom...ew...and, uh, in case you doubted that this is Bobby Trendy:

Magnus’s bedroom was a riot of color: canary-yellow sheets and bedspread draped over a mattress on the floor, electric-blue vanity table strewn with more pots of paint and makeup than Isabelle’s. Rainbow velvet curtains hid the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a tangled wool rug covered the floor.

Now, I was all geared up for this exciting confrontation. Clary tells him that she can't remember things, and he says he never met her, and isn't it sad, and Jace says of course he knows her, when the self-multilating Silent Brothers read her mind they found his name in it.

And he...tells them sure, yeah, he did it, and Clary's mother paid him.

And that's the end of the chapter.

Some might say this book moves at a glacial pace. I say glacial pace would be a FUCKING UPGRADE.

Ah, well. Next chapter: Simon hijacks the plot by getting turned into a rat.

yeah. It's that kind of book.