Infernal Devices Cookies!!!!

PetiteCossette · Subject: Infernal Devices Cookies!!!! Wed Sep 23, 2009 6:33 pm

These are the first two cookies from the Infernal Devices... And I love them.

1)

CC comment: From one
of the middle chapters of the book, "The Conclave."

--
“You can’t be serious —” Tessa began, but broke
off as the door to the
library opened, and Charlotte entered the room. She wasn’t alone. There were
at least a dozen men following her, and — Tessa saw, as they filed into the
room — two women.

Tessa gazed at them in fascination. So these were Shadowhunters — more
Shadowhunters in one place than she’d ever seen before. She stared at the
two women, remembering what Will had said about Boadicea, that women could
be warriors as well. The taller of the women had powder-white hair wound in
into a crown at the back of her head; she looked as if she were well into
her sixties, and her presence was regal. The other of the women was younger,
with dark hair and catlike eyes. The men were a mixed group, all in
carefully tailored dark clothes: the eldest of them was an elegant-looking
gentleman with an iron-gray beard and a steely gaze to match; the youngest
was a boy probably no more than a year older than Jem or Will. He was
handsome in a pretty sort of way, with delicate features, tousled brown hair
and a watchful expression.

Jem made a noise of surprise and displeasure. “Gabriel Lightwood,” he
muttered to Will, under his breath. “What’s he doing here?”

Will hadn’t moved. He was staring at the brown-haired boy with his eyebrows
raised, a faint smile playing about his lips.

“Just don’t get into a fight with him, Will,” Jem added hastily. “Not here.
That’s all I ask.”

“Rather a lot to ask, don’t you think?” Will said, without looking at Jem.
He was watching Charlotte as she ushered everyone toward the large square
table at the front of the room; she seemed to be urging everyone to settle
themselves into seats around it. “Mr. Wayland,” she was saying, “and Mr.
Harrowgate, here, by the head of the table, if you please. Aunt Callida — if
you’d just sit over there by the map —”

“And where is George?” asked the gray-haired man, with an air of brusque
politeness. “Your husband? As head of the Institute, he really ought to be
here.”

Charlotte hesitated for only a fraction of a second before plastering a
smile onto her face. “He’s on his way, Mr. Lightwood,” she said, and Tessa
realized two things — one, that the gray-haired man was most likely the
father of Gabriel Lightwood, and two, that Charlotte was lying.

2) The demon exploded in a shower
of ichor and guts.
William Herondale jerked the dagger he was holding back, but it was too late: the
viscous acid of the demon’s blood had already begun to eat away at the shining
blade. He swore and tossed the weapon aside; it landed in a filthy puddle and
commenced smoldering like a doused match. The demon itself, of course, had
vanished: dispatched back to whatever hell dimension it had come from, though
not without leaving a mess behind.
“Jem!” Will called, turning around. “Where are you? Did you see that? I got him
with one blow! Not bad, eh?”
But there was no answer to Will’s shout; his hunting partner had been standing
behind him in the narrow alley a few moments ago, guarding his back, Will was
positive, but now he was alone in the shadows. Will frowned in annoyance — it
was much less fun showing off without Jem to show off to. Still scowling, Will
headed back toward Narrow Street and the dim gleam of gaslight at the alley’s
mouth.
Narrow Street cut through the center of Limehouse, between the wharves beside
the river and the cramped slums spreading east toward Whitechapel and Shadwell.
It was as narrow as its name suggested and, at the moment, deserted. Limehouse
was a something of a bad neighborhood, full of gambling houses, opium dens, and
brothels; consequently, it was one of Will’s favorite places in London. He
didn’t even mind the smell of it — smoke and dirt mixed with the river-water
smell of the Thames.
He scrubbed the sleeve of his coat across his face, trying to rub away the
ichor that stung and burned his skin. The cloth came away stained green and
black. There was a cut on the back of his hand, too, a nasty one. He could use
a healing rune. One of Jem’s, preferably — he was particularly good at drawing
iratzes.
A shape detached itself from the shadows and moved toward Will. He started
forward, then paused — it wasn’t Jem, but rather a mundane policeman, wearing a
bell-shaped helmet and a puzzled expression. He stared at Will, or rather
through Will — however accusomed you were to glamour, Will thought, it was
always a strange experience being looked through as if you weren’t there. He was
seized with the sudden urge to nick the policeman’s truncheon and watch while
the poor fool flapped around trying to figure out where it had gone, but Jem
had scolded him the few times he’d done that before and while Will never really
could understand Jem’s moral objections to the whole enterprise, it wasn’t
worth making him upset.
With a shrug and a blink, the policeman moved past Will, shaking his head and
muttering something under his breath about laying off the gin before he started
really seeing things. Will stepped aside to let the man pass, and raised his
voice to a shout:
“James Carstairs!” Will called, again. “Oi! Where are you, you malingering
bastard?”
This time, a faint reply answered him. “Over here — follow the witchlight.”
Will moved toward the sound of Jem’s voice. It seemed to be coming from a dark
opening between two warehouses; a faint gleam was visible within the shadows,
like the darting light of a will-o-the-wisp. “Did you hear me before? That Shax
demon thought it could get me with its bloody great pincers, but I chased it
into an alley, and —”
“Yes, I heard you.” The young man who appeared at the mouth of the alley was
pale in the lamplight — paler even than he usually was, which was quite pale
indeed. He was bareheaded, which drew the eye immediately to his hair: it was a
rare bright silver color, the shade of an untarnished coin. His eyes were the
same silver, and his fine-boned face was angular, the slight curve of his eyes
the only clue to his heritage.
There were dark stains across his white shirt front, and his hands were thickly
smeared with red.
Will’s pulse jumped. “You’re bleeding. What happened? Are you —”
Jem waved away his concern. “It’s not my blood.” He turned his head back toward
the alley behind him. “It’s hers.”

I loved it. I want more....

_________________
SUPPORT TOM KAULITZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jem shook his head. “You bit a vampire,” he said. “I saw you. You bit a vampire.”

“I had no choice,” said Will. “He was choking me.”

“I know,” Jem said. “But really, Will — again?”

CrispyCheese · Subject: Re: Infernal Devices Cookies!!!! Thu Sep 24, 2009 5:26 am

*drool*

Will is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo hawt *__*

And MOAR!!! indeed.
I want the book now! thnx for posting these!

_________________
DUCKING GLASS MOLE! muahahaha, and I can get away with that! Whatcha gonna do bout' it huh, huh? ^^