Ten original love stories by the reigning queen of romantasy, featuring fan-favorite couples from her #1 Jace and Clary , seeking out an exiled Shadowhunter and learning that love can save the world--or destroy it. Will and Tessa , honeymooning in Paris when a séance sends them down an unexpected path. Simon and Izzy , observing increased demonic activity around New York, on a hilarious urban romp. These are just a few of the beloved couples whose romantic escapades will have you on the edge of your seat across time and storylines from Cassandra Clare’s expansive Shadowhunters series. Don’t miss a chance to reunite with: • Anna and Ari • Emma and Julian • Kieran, Mark, and Cristina • James and Cordelia • Thomas and Alastair • Sebastian and the Seelie Queen • Jocelyn and Luke A love letter to every fan of the Shadowhunter Chronicles, this riveting story collection also includes a sneak peek at The Wicked Powers, the majestic trilogy that will be the grand finale of the entire series!

Autorentext

Cassandra Clare

Leseprobe
The Good Storm

Everything would have gone perfectly splendidly on Will and Tessa Herondale’s honeymoon, if it hadn’t been for Ragnor Fell’s wedding present.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been given other odd presents. Henry had given them a squarish object with a button on top that he promised would allow them to walk through walls, but it hadn’t worked yet. Gabriel had given them a lovely silver serving platter whose border was etched with a design of horrifying ducks. Ernie, the proprietor of the Devil Tavern, had given them a bottle of his homemade wine, which they hadn’t gotten up the nerve to try since Will had spilled some and burned a hole in the carpet.

But it was Ragnor’s gift that, when unwrapped, had puzzled them the most. It was a beautiful crystal globe, delicate as a soap bubble, with what looked like green smoke swirling inside it. “Very nice,” Tessa had said, a bit bemused, and Ragnor—­who had come by a day after the wedding expressly to deliver the present—­had explained that it was an encapsulated wish. “Smash the glass and make a wish, and the wish will come true,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.

“Any wish?” Will had asked, his dark eyebrows sharpening into peaks above his eyes.

“Well, not any wish,” Ragnor had said grumpily. “A wish that is within reason. Do not make wishes that meddle with life and death. That never goes well.”

“What if it wasn’t life and death?” Will persisted. “What if it was—­”

“Turning a Silent Brother back into a Shadowhunter?” Ragnor had rubbed wearily at his left horn. He was beginning to look as if he regretted the whole idea of giving them a wedding present in the first place. “No. That is immutable magic. Only Raziel or the powers of Heaven could do such a thing. Really, William, stick to small things. Wish for a new hat.”

Will had seemed disappointed, but not—­as Tessa had feared—­crushed. He was beginning to accept that certain things could not be changed. She recalled the Will she had met at first, who had seemed at war with everyone and everything in his life, and was glad he had learned to sometimes put down his arms—­though he would always battle against injustice and unfairness, and for that, Tessa loved him all the more.

On the train to Paris, they had talked over what they might wish for. Riches? They were already comfortable and did not need anything more. For someone they loved to be happy? But everyone was happy. Will said they should wish for a wonderful honeymoon, and Tessa thought they should save the wish in case of emergency, so they arrived in Paris without having used the globe at all.

Will had booked them a large suite at the Hôtel Meurice on Rue de Rivoli. It was the sort of place that catered to British tourists who wished to have “all the comforts of home,” meaning English breakfasts, a smoking room, and discreet servants. Tessa was assigned a maid, a pleasant girl from Brittany, to help with her clothing and hair; she protested initially, but it was true enough that she could not do up her own dresses without help, and while Will offered to assist, dressing her inevitably distracted him in ways that were very pleasant but not conducive to clothing oneself.

The bedroom itself was otherwise lovely, all dark and light blues, with velvet curtains and a gilded four-­poster bed. Tessa was not yet used to sleeping in the same bed as Will, and every night, when they curled up together, she felt as if she were getting away with something, some act of blissful naughtiness that would certainly land them in trouble if they were found out. “We are married, Tessa,” Will would laugh, nuzzling at her unbound hair. “The Angel Raziel himself approves of our union.”

But Tessa still blushed and hid her face, especially when Will did certain things—­not that she wanted him to stop doing those things. She was very enthusiastic about them. Which was fortunate, since Will would have spent all their time in bed if left to his own devices. Tessa, however, was determined to see Paris properly. No matter how late into the night they had been sleepless, she would rise in the morning and, giggling, shake a groggy Will awake, forcing coffee on him until he was ready to follow her—­clutching her maps and Baedeker guide to Paris—­out into the sunlit streets.

Whereupon Will would usually declaim something dramatic. “Let me be taken, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so!” he would announce, throwing up his arms.

“You can quote Romeo and Juliet all you want,” Tessa would say, taking his arm and tucking her own through it. “We’re still going to the Louvre.”

And Will would kiss her, heedless of passersby, which was the sort of thing you could get away with in Paris, and they would set off on another adventure. The days were long and joyful, full of sightseeing—­they went to Notre-­Dame, of course, and to see Les Invalides, the Louvre, and the Arc de Triomphe; they went to the see the Siege of Paris cyclorama (which Will declared to be simply an image of a thousand Frenchmen and thus not worth seeing) and to the bustling market of Les Halles, which reminded Tessa of Covent Garden.

It was all delightful, but what Tessa enjoyed the most was simply spending time with Will. At home in London there was always Shadowhunter business to attend to, but here in Paris they were away from all that. They had resolved to avoid the Paris Institute and all things related to the Nephilim, so that they could have an actual holiday and enjoy themselves without being called upon to fight demons or chase away unruly ghosts.

The one place they did not go was the great opera house, the Garnier, because Jem had always wanted to visit it. By unspoken agreement, they avoided it; though Will might have accepted the change in Jem, it did not mean he no longer missed him, just as Tessa missed him too. The loss was one Will would always carry, Tessa knew, a tiny flaw in the heart of his happiness, like a cloudy spot in a diamond. It made Will more precious to her, even as she grieved for his grief, and for her own.

One night, Tessa teased Will that he had never carried her over the threshold, as was the mundane tradition with new brides. “Perhaps,” she said, smiling up at him, “the exertion seems tiresome?”

“I am a Shadowhunter,” Will pointed out. “I could carry six of you over the threshold. Though if I had six brides, it w…