The Mortal Instruments City Of Bones novel Chapter 28

Jace, glancing around the room, laughed. “Where’s Isabelle?”

A rush of guilty concern hit Clary. She’d forgotten about Simon. She spun around, looking for the familiar skinny shoulders and shock of dark hair. “I don’t see him. Them, I mean.”

“There she is.” Alec spotted his sister and waved her over, looking relieved. “Over here. And watch out for the phouka.”

“Watch out for the phouka?” Jace repeated, glancing toward a thin brown-skinned man in a green paisley vest who eyed Isabelle thoughtfully as she walked by.

“He pinched me when I passed him earlier,” Alec said stiffly. “In a highly personal area.”

“I hate to break it to you, but if he’s interested in your highly personal areas, he probably isn’t interested in your sister’s.”

“Not necessarily,” said Magnus. “Faeries aren’t particular.”

Jace curled his lip scornfully in the warlock’s direction. “You still here?”

Before Magnus could reply, Isabelle was on top of them, looking pink-faced and blotchy and smelling strongly of alcohol. “Jace! Alec! Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over—”

“Where’s Simon?” Clary interrupted.

Isabelle wobbled. “He’s a rat,” she said darkly.

“Did he do something to you?” Alec was full of brotherly concern. “Did he touch you? If he tried anything—”

“No, Alec,” Isabelle said irritably. “Not like that. He’s a rat.”

“She’s drunk,” said Jace, beginning to turn away in disgust.

“I’m not,” Isabelle said indignantly. “Well, maybe a little, but that’s not the point. The point is, Simon drank one of those blue drinks—I told him not to, but he didn’t listen—and he turned into a rat.”

“A rat?” Clary repeated incredulously. “You don’t mean …”

“I mean a rat,” Isabelle said. “Little. Brown. Scaly tail.”

“The Clave isn’t going to like this,” said Alec dubiously. “I’m pretty sure turning mundanes into rats is against the Law.”

“Technically she didn’t turn him into a rat,” Jace pointed out. “The worst she could be accused of is negligence.”

“Who cares about the stupid Law?” Clary screamed, grabbing hold of Isabelle’s wrist. “My best friend is a rat!”

“Ouch!” Isabelle tried to pull her wrist back. “Let go of me!”

“Not until you tell me where he is.” She’d never wanted to smack anyone as much as she wanted to smack Isabelle right at that moment. “I can’t believe you just left him—he’s probably terrified—”

“If he hasn’t been stepped on,” Jace pointed out unhelpfully.

“I didn’t leave him. He ran under the bar,” Isabelle protested, pointing. “Let go! You’re denting my bracelet.”

“Bitch,” Clary said savagely, and flung a surprised-looking Isabelle’s hand back at her, hard. She didn’t stop for a reaction; she was running toward the bar. Dropping to her knees, she peered into the dark space under it. In the moldy-smelling gloom, she thought she could just detect a pair of glinting, beady eyes.

“Simon?” she said, her voice choked. “Is that you?”

Simon-the-rat crept forward slightly, his whiskers trembling. She could see the shape of his small rounded ears, flat against his head, and the sharp point of his nose. She fought down a feeling of revulsion—she’d never liked rats, with their yellowy squared-off teeth all ready to bite. She wished he’d been turned into a hamster.

“It’s me, Clary,” she said slowly. “Are you okay?”

Jace and the others arrived behind her, Isabelle looking more annoyed now than tearful. “Is he under there?” Jace asked curiously.

Clary, still on her hands and knees, nodded. “Shh. You’ll frighten him off.” She pushed her fingers gingerly under the edge of the bar, and wiggled them. “Please come out, Simon. We’ll get Magnus to reverse the spell. It’ll be okay.”

She heard a squeak, and the rat’s pink nose poked out from beneath the bar. With an exclamation of relief, Clary seized the rat in her hands. “Simon! You understood me!”

The rat, huddled in the hollow of her palms, squeaked glumly. Delighted, she hugged him to her chest. “Oh, poor baby,” she crooned, almost as if he really were a pet. “Poor Simon, it’ll be fine, I promise—”

“I wouldn’t feel too sorry for him,” Jace said. “That’s probably the closest he’s ever gotten to second base.”

“Shut up !” Clary glared at Jace furiously, but she did loosen her grip on the rat. His whiskers were trembling, whether in anger or agitation or simple terror, she couldn’t tell. “Get Magnus,” she said sharply. “We have to turn him back.”

“Let’s not be hasty.” Jace was actually grinning, the bastard. He reached toward Simon as if he meant to pet him. “He’s cute like that. Look at his little pink nose.”

Simon bared long yellow teeth at Jace and made a snapping motion. Jace pulled his outstretched hand back. “Izzy, go fetch our magnificent host.”

“Why me?” Isabelle looked petulant.

“Because it’s your fault the mundane’s a rat, idiot,” he said, and Clary was struck by how rarely any of them, other than Isabelle, ever said Simon’s actual name. “And we can’t leave him here.”

“You’d be happy to leave him if it weren’t for her,” Isabelle said, managing to inject the single syllable word with enough venom to poison an elephant. She stalked off, her skirt flouncing around her hips.

“I can’t believe she let you drink that blue drink,” Clary said to rat-Simon. “Now you see what you get for being so shallow.”

Simon squeaked irritably. Clary heard someone chuckle and glanced up to see Magnus leaning over her. Isabelle stood behind him, her expression furious. “Rattus norvegicus,” said Magnus, peering at Simon. “A common brown rat, nothing exotic.”

“I don’t care what kind of rat he is,” Clary said crossly. “I want him turned back.”

Magnus scratched his head thoughtfully, shedding glitter. “No point,” he said.

“That’s what I said.” Jace looked pleased.