Be a hero, Simon, " Simon muttered bitterly, remembering the life Magnus Bane had dangled before him in their first meeting - or at least, the first one Simon could remember. "Have an adventure, Simon. How about, turn your life into one long agonizing gym class, Simon." "Dude, you're talking to yourself again.
Simon's horse was defective, or possibly a genius that had worked out that Simon could not possibly control it. It went off for a wander in the woods, with Simon on its back alternately pleading, threatening, and offering bribes. If Simon's horse could read his every thought, then Simon's horse was a sadist.
"He passed over his fall, and appointed him first of the Apostles; wherefore He said: ' 'Simon, Simon,' etc. (in Ps. cxxix. 2). God allowed him to fall, because He meant to make him ruler over the whole world, that, remembering his own fall, he might forgive those who should slip in the future. And that what I have said is no guess, listen to Christ Himself saying: 'Simon, Simon, etc.'"
Saint John Chrysostom
Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the Angel's sake. Look, if there's no other way of getting out of this, I'll kiss Simon. I've done it before, it wasn't that bad." "Thanks, " said Simon. "That's very flattering." "Well, I'm not kissing the mundane, " said Jace. "I'd rather stay down here and rot." "Forever?" said Simon. "Forever's an awfully long time." Jace raised his eyebrows. "I knew it, " he said. "You want to kiss me, don't you?" Simon threw up his hands in exasperation. "Of course not. But if-" "I guess it's true what they say, " observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches." "That's atheists, jackass, " said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.
Simon had shamelessly tried to curry favor with Isabelle's father by teaching Robert Lightwood how to use Simon's digital watch as a timer. Robert was now holding the watch in a death grip and studying it carefully. It would be Robert's turn with the baby again in sixteen minutes, and he had clasped Simon's shoulder and said, 'Thanks, son, ' which Simon took as a blessing to date Robert's daughter.
Oh, Draven, " Simon said in a falsetto as he clasped his hands together and held them to his shoulder. He gave Draven a worshipful look. "You're my hero too!" Simon sniffed as if he were holding back tears and threw his arms about Draven's shoulders. "If not for you, that mean old boar would have eaten me alive." Draven pushed Simon away from him. "Get off me, you nimble-pated gelding." "But Draven, " Simon said again in his falsetto, "you're my hero. Give me a kiss." Draven ducked Simon's embrace and stepped behind Emily. "What are you? Moonstruck?" "Fine then, " Simon snapped. "Here, Emily, you kiss him for me." And before either one knew what Simon was about, she found herself tossed into Draven's arms. Their bodies collided. Draven's arms encircled her, and for a moment she couldn't breathe as she stared up into those startled blue eyes. Heat sizzled between them, skipping along both their bodies. Stealing their breath and setting fire to their blood. When Draven made no move to kiss her, Simon tasked. "Fine then, " Simon said, pulling her out of Draven's embrace and into his own. "Let me show you how a kiss is given." Simon dipped his lips to hers, but before he could make contact, Draven caught his chin in one hand and pulled his face away from hers. "If your lips so much as pucker near hers, I will geld you, brother." -Simon and Draven
I'll walk you back, Jace said. "As for Simon, he can manage his own way back in the dark-can't you Simon?" "Of course he can, Alec said indignantly, as if eager to make up for his earlier slighting of Simon. "He's a vampire-and," he added, "I just realized that you were probably joking. Never mind me.
He's not feeling well," Clary said, catching at Simon's wrist. "We're going." "No," Simon said. "No, I "" I need to talk to him. To the Inquisitor." Robert reached into his jacket and drew out a crucifix. Clary stared in shock as he held it up between himself and Simon. "I speak to the Night's Children Council representative, or to the head of the New York clan," he said. "Not to any vampire who comes to knock at my door """ Simon reached out and plucked the cross out of Robert's hand. "Wrong religion," he said.
He's not feeling well," Clary said, catching at Simon's wrist. "We're going." "No," Simon said. "No, I - I need to talk to him. To the Inquisitor." Robert reached into his jacket and drew out a crucifix. Clary stared in shock as he held it up between himself and Simon. "I speak to the Night's Children Council representative, or to the head of the New York clan," he said. "Not to any vampire who comes to knock at my door-" Simon reached out and plucked the cross out of Robert's hand. "Wrong religion," he said.
Simon!" The voice was Clary's. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he'd most loved during life to carry him through the process of death. "Simon, you stupid idiot! I'm over here! At the window!" Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up.
Simon!' The voice was Clary's. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he'd most loved during life to carry him through the process of death. 'Simon, you stupid idiot! I'm over here! At the window!' Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up.
Simon I've been trying to call you, but it seems like your phone is turned off. I don't know where you are right now. I don't know if Clary's already told you what happened tonight. But I have to go to Magnus's and I'd really like you to be there. I'm scared for my brother. I never ask you for anything, Simon, but I'm asking you now. Please come. Isabelle. Simon let the letter fall from his hand. He was out of the apartment and on his way down the steps before it had even hit the floor.
I am here to determine my relationship." Simon goggled. She couldn't be talking about him. Could she? "Do you see that man?" Isabelle asked, pointing at Simon. Apparently she was talking about him. "That's Simon Lewis, and he is my boyfriend. So if any of you think about trying to hurt him because he's a mundie or-may the Angel have mercy on your soul-pursuing him romantically, I will come after you, I will hunt you down and I will crush you to powder.
This time Clary concentrated, trying to focus her mind on Simon-The Simon-ness of him, the shape of the way he thought, the feeling of hearing his voice, the sence of him close. His whispers, his secrets, the way he made her laugh. 'So', she thought conversationally, 'now that I'm in your mind, wnat to see some naked mental pictures of Jace?' Simon jumped. "I heard that! And, no.
It was Eric's voice not Simon's, on the recorded message. "Ladies, ladies " he said. Though it was the millionth time she'd heard the recording, Clary couldn't help rolling her eyes. "If you've reached this message that means our boy Simon is out partying. But please don't fight among yourselves. There's always enough Simon to go around." There was a muffled yell, some laughter, and then the long sound of the beep.
It was Eric's voice not Simon's, on the recorded message. 'Ladies, ladies ' he said. Though it was the millionth time she'd heard the recording, Clary couldn't help rolling her eyes. 'If you've reached this message that means our boy Simon is out partying. But please don't fight among yourselves. There's always enough Simon to go around.' There was a muffled yell, some laughter, and then the long sound of the beep.
The first morning Simon had been at Amatis's house, a grinning lycanthrope had showed up on the doorstep with a live cat for him. "Blood, " he'd said, in a heavily accented voice. "For you. Fresh!" Simon had thanked the werewolf, waited from him to leave, and let the cat go, his expression faintly green. "We'll you're going to have to get your blood from somewhere, " said Luke, looking amused. "I have a pet cat, " Simon replied. "There's no way.
No. Absolutely not." "Simon," she said. "It's a perfectly fine plan." "The plan where you follow Jace and Sebastian off to some unknown dimensional pocket and we use these rings to communicate so those of us over here in the regular dimension of Earth can track you down? That plan?" "Yes." "No," he said. "No, it isn't." Clary sat back. "You don't just get to say no." "This plan involves me! I get to say no! No." "Simon""" Simon patted the seat beside him as if someone were sitting there. "Let me introduce you to my good friend No.
What's that you're holding?" he asked, noticing the pamphlet, still rolled up in her left hand. "Oh, this?" She held it up. "How to Come Out to Your Parents." He widened his eyes. "Something you want to tell me?" "It's not for me. It's for you." She handed it to him. "I don't have to come out to my mother, " said Simon. "She already thinks I'm gay because I'm not interested in sports and I haven't had a serious girlfriend yet. Not that she knows of, anyway." "But you have to come out as a vampire, " Clary pointed out. "Luke thought you could, you know, use one of the suggested speeches in the pamphlet, except use the word 'undead' instead of-" "I get it, I get it." Simon spread the pamplet open. "Here, I'll practice on you." He cleared his throat. "Mom. I have something to tell you. I'm undead. Now, I know you may have some preconceived notions about the undead. I know you may not be comfortable with the idea of me being undead. But I'm here to tell you that the undead are just like you and me." Simon paused. "Well, okay. Possibly more like me than you." "SIMON." "All right, all right." He went on. "The first thing you need to understand is that I'm the same person I always was. Being undead isn't the most important thing about me. It's just part of who I am. The second thing you should know is that it isn't a choice. I was born this way." Simon squinted at her over the pamphlet. "Sorry, reborn this way.
Hope you didn't bring any spiders into the van with you, ' Simon put in. 'Hey, I'm thinking we could take you back outside and hose you down, just to make sure. You'd definitely smell better if we did, which, I mean, bonus.' Jeremy scraped both hands through his hair again, then beat them clean against his thighs. 'Believe me, Simon, if we had access to a garden hose, I'd be the first to turn it on myself. I feel foul.' 'Hate to break it to you, Archer, but that feeling is not lying to you, ' Simon said with mild relish.
Well I'm not kissing the mundane, " said Jace. "I'd rather stay down here and rot." "Forever?" said Simon. "Forever is an awfully long time." Jace raised his eyebrows, "I knew it, " he said, "you want to kiss me, don't you?" Simon threw his hands up in exasperation. "Of course not but if-" "I guess it's true what they say, " observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches." "That's atheists jackass, " said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.
Simon stepped between them. "I'm not going to let you fight with each other." "And what are you going to do about it if . . . Oh." Jace's gaze trailed up to Simon's forehead, and he grinned reluctantly. " So basically you're threatening to turn me into something you can sprinkle on popcorn if I don't do what you say?
We?" Simon looked at him in disbelief. "Are you ever going home?" "What, bored with my company already?" "Let me ask you something, " Simon said. "Do you find me fascinating to be around?" "What was that?" Jace said. "Sorry, I think I fell asleep for a moment. Do, continue with whatever mesmerizing thing you were saying.
Simon stepped between them. 'I'm not going to let you fight with each other.' 'And what are you going to do about it if... Oh.' Jace's gaze trailed up to Simon's forehead, and he grinned reluctantly. ' So basically you're threatening to turn me into something you can sprinkle on popcorn if I don't do what you say?
Thank you, Simon, I appreciate that." Luke opened the pizza box and, finding it empty, shut it with a sigh. "Though you did eat all the pizza." "I only had five slices, " Simon protested, leaning his chair backward so it balanced precariously on its two back legs. "How many slices did you think were in a pizza, dork?" Clary wanted to know. "Less than five slices isn't a meal. It's a snack." Simon looked apprehensively at Luke. "Does this mean you're going to wolf out and eat me?" "Certainly not." Luke rose to toss the pizza box into the trash. "You would be stringy and hard to digest." "But kosher, " Simon pointed out cheerfully. "I'll be sure to point any Jewish lycanthropes your way." Luke leaned his back against the sink.
Simon turned to Jordan, who was lying down across the futon, his head propped against one of the woven throw pillows. "How much of that did you hear?" "Enough to gather that we're going to a party tonight," said Jordan. "I heard about the Ironworks event. I'm not in the Garroway pack, so I wasn't invited." "I guess you're coming as my date now." Simon shoved the phone back into his pocket. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to accept that," said Jordan. "We'd better get you something nice to wear, though," he called as Simon headed back into his room. "I want you to look pretty.
Simon turned to Jordan, who was lying down across the futon, his head propped against one of the woven throw pillows. "How much of that did you hear?" "Enough to gather that we're going to a party tonight, " said Jordan. "I heard about the Ironworks event. I'm not in the Garroway pack, so I wasn't invited." "I guess you're coming as my date now." Simon shoved the phone back into his pocket. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to accept that, " said Jordan. "We'd better get you something nice to wear, though, " he called as Simon headed back into his room. "I want you to look pretty.
The pile of guts was a black blob of flies that buzzed like a saw. After a while these flies found Simon. Gorged, they alighted by his runnels of sweat and drank. They tickled under his nostrils and played leapfrog on his thighs. They were black and iridescent green and without number; and in front of Simon, the Lord of the Flies hung on his stick and grinned. At last Simon gave up and looked back; saw the white teeth and dim eyes, the blood""and his gaze was held by that ancient, inescapable recognition.
Even the king's Erkynguard might have wished to be elsewhere, rather than here on this killing ground where duty brought them and loyalty prisoned them. Only the mercenaries were here by choice. To Simon, the minds of men who would come to this of their own will were suddenly as incomprehensible as the thoughts of spiders or lizards-less so, even, for the small creatures of the earth almost always fled from danger. These were madmen, Simon realized, and that was the direst problem of the world: that madmen should be strong and unafraid, so that they could force their will on the weak and peace-loving. If God allowed such madness to be, Simon could not help thinking, then He was an old god who had lost His grip.
But that's not what you said when she walked into the room, " said Simon quietly. "You said, 'Why didn't you ever tell me I had a brother?'" "I know." Clary yanked a blade of grass out of the dirt, worrying it between her fingers. "I guess I can't help thinking that if I'd known the truth, I wouldn't have met Jace the way I did. I wouldn't have fallen in love with him." Simon was silent for a moment. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that before." "That I love him?" She laughed, but it sounded dreary even to her ears. "Seems useless to pretend like I don't, at this point. Maybe it doesn't matter. I probably won't ever see him again, anyway." "He'll come back." "Maybe." "He'll come back, " Simon said again. "For you.
It's like Dungeons and Dragons, but real." Jace was looking at Simon as if he were some bizarre species of insect. "It's like what?" "It's a game, " Clary explained. She felt vaguely embarrassed. "People pretend to be wizards and elves, and they kill monsters and stuff." Jace looked stupefied. Simon grinned. "you've never hear of Dungeon and Dragons?" "I've heard of dungeons, " Jace said. "Also dragons. Although they're mostly extinct." Simon looked disappointed. "You've never killed a dragon?" "He's probably never met a six-foot-tall hot elf-woman in a fur bikini, either, " Clary said irritably. "Lay off, Simon." "Real elves are about eight inches tall, " Jace pointed out. "Also, they bite.
It doesn't matter if I get my memories back or not, ' Simon said. 'It doesn't matter if another demon gives me amnesia tomorrow. I know you: You'll come find me again, you'll come rescue me no matter what happens. You'll come for me, and I'll discover you all over again. I love you. I love you without the memories. I love you right now.' Isabelle said in a calm voice: 'I know.' Simon stared at her. 'Was that... , ' he said slowly. 'Was that a Star Wars reference? Because if it was, I would like to declare my love all over again.' 'Go on, then, ' said Isabelle. 'I mean it. Say it again. I've been waiting awhile.' 'I love you, ' said Simon.
Simon?" she asked. "I have a stupid question." "What is it?" "Did you sleep with Isabelle?" Simon made a choking sound. Clary swiveled slowly around to look at him. "Are you okay?" she asked. "I think so, " he said, recovering his poise with apparent effort. "Are you serious?" "Well, you were gone all night.
Maybe, he said hesitantly, maybe there is a beast. The assembly cried out savagely and Ralph stood up in amazement. You, Simon? You believe in this? I don't know, said Simon. His heartbeats were choking him. [...] Ralph shouted. Hear him! He's got the conch! What I mean is . . . maybe it's only us. Nuts! That was from Piggy, shocked out of decorum.
Shapes began to appear in the mist as it thickened. Clary saw herself and Simon as children, holding hands, crossing a street in Brooklyn, ; she had barrettes in her hair and Simon was adorably rumpled, his glasses sliding off his nose. There they were again, throwing snowballs in Prospect Park; and at Luke's farmhouse, tanned from summer, hanging upside down from tree branches. She saw them in Java Jones, listening to Eric's terrible poetry, and on the back of a flying motorcycle as it crashed into a parking lot, with Jace there, looking at them, his eyes squinted against the sun. And there was Simon with Isabelle, his hands curved around her face, kissing her, and she could see Isabelle as Simon saw her: fragile and strong, and so, so beautiful. And there was Valentine's ship, Simon kneeling on Jace, blood on his mouth and shirt, and blood at Jace's throat, and there was the cell in Idris, and Hodge's weathered face, and Simon and Clary again, Clary etching the Mark of Cain onto his forehead. Maureen, and her blood on the floor, and her little pink hat, and the rooftop in Manhattan where Lilith had raised Sebastian, and Clary was passing him a gold ring across a table, and an Angel was rising out of a lake before him and he was kissing Isabelle...
It doesnt hurt." "But my eyes do, " said a coolly amused voice from the doorway. Jace. He had come in so quietly that even Simon hadn't heard him, he grinned as Isabelle pulled Simon's shirt down. "Molesting the vampire while he's too weak to fight back, Iz?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure that violates at least one of the Accords.
The look Anthony shot at his sister was so comically malevolent Simon nearly laughed. He managed to restrain himself, but mostly just because he was fairly certain that any show of humor would cause Anthony's fist to lose its battle with his brain, with Simon's face emerging as the conflict's primary casualty.
Simon: I love you Isabelle Lightwood! I love you and I will not go away until you tell me you love me too! Isabelle: Take your clothes and go! Simon: Isabelle! Stop throwing clothes at me! Just because your a Shadowhunter and I'm a vampire doesn't mean we can never happen. Our love is forbidden like the love of a shark and a-a sharkhunter! But that's what makes it special! Isabelle: Oh? Which one of us is the shark, Simon? Which one of us is the shark? Robert Lightwood: What is going on? Why are you yelling outside my house?
[After abandoning the upper-class life of a doctor, Simon has only one goal to protect his sister which often leads him to clash with the Serenity crew.] Simon's almost naive in a sense, ... They live in a world where people have to be selfish and fight for themselves. In that regard, he's toughened up by the crew.
The Great and Tragic Love of Jonathan Shadowhunter and David the Silent, by Clary Fray, Aged 17. SIMON IT WAS BY SIMON NOT ME (...) Jonathan Shadowhunter: Oh, David, I would trust you with my life! David: Oh, Jonathan, I would sacrifice my own life for your holy mission! (He almost does) Jonathan: (weeping) David, you must return to me! I need you! I cannot do this thing without you! David: Lo, I return! Jonathan: Zounds! I feel a great stirring in my pantaloons! David: What doth thy pantalo SIMON I WILL KILL YOU
The secretary moved in to block Simon as I followed Thierry into the office. As the door closed, I heard her whisper, "I think it's very sweet, you sticking up for your brother like that." "I'm not trying to be sweet," Simon said, raising his voice so Thierry could hear. "I'm trying to be fair. But apparently no one's interested in that.
Shadowhunter.' The creature on the left spoke in a hissing whisper. 'We did not know of you in this situation.' Isabelle raised a delicate eyebrow. 'And what situation would that be?' The second subjugate pointed a long gray finger at Simon. The nail on the end of it was yellowed and sharp. 'We have dealings with the Daylighter.' 'No, you don't, ' Simon said. 'I have no idea who you are. Never seen you before.
This was Jace being brave. Simon thought, brave and snarky because he thought Lilith was going to kill him, and that was the way he wanted to go, unafraid and on his feet. Like a warrior. The way Shadowhunters did. His death song would always be this-jokes and snideness and pretend arrogance, and that look in his eyes that said 'I'm better than you'. Simon just hadn't realized it before.
Simon stopped listening. He realised he'd had enough. Enough of the theories, enough of the mystery, enough of the bullshit. Enough of the soldiers and guns and MI5. Enough of bugs in phones and in people he cared about. Enough of not being cared about back. Enough of uncertainty and lies and civilisation, collapsing or not. Enough of is part in it, his place, his role; the character of Simon Parfitt and all the baggage it entailed.
L. Ashley Straker
Simon hated her for that. Perhaps it was automatic. Her appearance alone made her different from him, and human beings had always feared and hated anyone who was different. Two thousand years of history saw it being repeated over and over, the perpetual struggle of one race, or tribe, or creed, against another... each one thinking they were right, superior, morally justified, or chosen by God. Simon saw himself as normal, Laura as abnormal.
Simon looked at Jordan who was looking at Maia again. She had her back to them and was talking to Luke and Jocelyn, laughing, flinging her curly hair back. "Don't even think about it, " Simon said, and got up. He pointed at Jordan. "You stay here." "And do what?" "Whatever Praetor Lupas do in this situation. Meditate. Contemplate your Jedi powers. Whatever.
Izzy, are you-' he began. His eyes flew wide, and he backed up fast enough to smack his head into the wall behind him. 'What is he doing here?' Isabelle tugged her tank top back down and glared at her brother. 'You don't knock now?' 'It-It's my bedroom!' Alec spluttered. He seemed to be deliberately trying not to look at Izzy and Simon, who were indeed in a very compromising position. Simon rolled quickly off Isabelle, who sat up, brushing herself off as if for lint. Simon sat up more slowly, trying to hold the torn edges of his shirt together. 'Why are all my clothes on the floor?' Alec said. 'I was trying to find something for Simon to wear, ' Isabelle explained. 'Maureen put him in leather pants and a puffy shirt because he was being her romance-novel slave.' 'He was being her what?' 'Her romance-novel slave, ' Isabelle repeated, as if Alec were being particularly dense. Alec shook his head as if he were having a bad dream. 'You know what? Don't explain. Just-put your clothes on, both of you.
I didn't make any mistake. I know that when he nearly asked me to marry him it was only on impulse It is part if a follow-my-leader game of second-best we have all been playing - Rose with Simon, Simon with me, me with Stephen and Stephen, I suppose, with that detestable Leda Fox-Cotton. It isn't a very good game; the people you play it with are apt to get hurt.
Look, I asked you here for a reason. Much as I hate to admit it, vampire, we have something in common. " "Totally awesome hair?" Simon suggested, but his heart wasn't really in it either. Something about the look on Jace's face was making him increasingly uneasy. Simon was caught off guard. "Clary?" "Clary, " Jace said again. "You know: short, redheaded, bad temper.
The Law is hard, but it's the Law, " Simon added in disgust. "So freaking what? If the Law is wrong, why not change it? Do you know what the world would look like if we were still following the laws made up back in the Dark Ages?" "You know who else used to talk like that?" Jon asked ominously. "Let me guess: Valentine." Simon scowled. "Because apparently in all of Shadowhunter history only one guy has bothered to ask any questions.
Simon remembered a rhyme his mother used to recite to him, about magpies. You were supposed to count them and say: one for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret that's never been told. "Right," simon said. He had already lost count of the numbers of birds there were. Seven, he guessed. A secret that's never been told. Whatever that was.
If I feel the urge to burst into flames, I'll let you know, " Simon was getting fed up. "Look, did you actually ask me to come all the way uptown just so you could stare at me like I'm something in a petrie dish? Next time I'll send you a photo." "And I'll frame it and put it on my nightstand, " Jace said, but he didn't sound as if his heart was in the sarcasm. "Look, I asked you here for a reason, not to stare at you. Much as I hate to admit it, vampire, we have something in common." "Totally awesome hair?" Simon suggested
Simon, would you still care for me if you discovered I was not who I say I am?" What do you mean?" I mean would you still care for me, no matter what you came to know?" What a thing to ponder. I don't know what to say." The answer is no. He does not need to say it. With a sigh, Simon digs at the fire with the iron poker. Bits of the charred log fall away, revealing the angry insides. they flare orange for a moment, then quiet down again. After three tries, he gives up. I'm afraid this fire's had it." I can see a few embers remaining. "No, I think not. If..." He sighs, and it says everything.
The last guest lecturer to honor the students with her presence had been Isabelle Lightwood. And the 'lecture' had consisted of a stern and humiliating warning that every female in a ten-mile radius should keep her grubby littler hands off Simon's hot bod. Fortunately, the tall, dark-haired man who strode to the front of the classroom looked unlikely to have any interest in Simon or his bod.
Was it weird hearing from Jace?" asked Simon, his voice carefully neutral. "I mean, since you found out..." His voice trailed off. Yes?"said Clary, her voice sharply edged. "Since I found out what? That he's a killer transvestite who molests cats?" No wonder that cat of his hates everyone." Oh, shut up, Simon," Clary said crossly.
I'm a humorist. A guy like Paul Simon just makes my life so much simpler. When I was there, he had a hearing against hate. Steven Spielberg came and testified against hate. Paul Simon said hate was bad. Orrin Hatch was there, and he was against hate too. Everyone was opposed to hate. Is this really a wonderful way to spend our tax dollars, to have these men drone away about how against hate they are?
Simon had drawn three pictures. In the top left corner, like a salutation, was a ghost. The middle had a big sketch of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Terminator. The third in place of a signature, was a lightning bolt surrounded by fog. Beside the drawing, someone had scrawled in inch-high letters 10 A.M. Tori snatched it from me and turned it over. "So where's the message?" "Right there." I pointed from picture to picture. "It says: Chloe, I'll be back, Simon.
Isabelle!" Simon called. "Stop throwing clothes at me! Just because you're a Shadowhunter and I'm a vampire doesn't mean we can never happen. Our love is forbidden like the love of a shark and a - and a shark hunter. But that's what makes it special." "Oh?" Isabelle snapped. "Which one of us is the shark, Simon? Which one of us is the shark?
Do you remember back at the hotel when you promised that if we lived, you'd get dressed up in a nurse's outfit and give me a sponge bath?" asked Jace. "It was Simon who promised you the sponge bath." "As soon as I'm back on my feet, handsome," said Simon. "I knew we should have left you a rat.
I was the first judge in the 'Indian Idol' format. The biggest risk when you adapt a format from a country in the West is how to make it your own, so I remember at the press conference for Indian 'X Factor,' the press would ask, 'Who is Simon Cowell?' And I said 'Why don't you ask Simon Cowell, 'Who is Sonu Nigam?'
Do you remember back at the hotel when you promised that if we lived, you'd get dressed up in a nurse's outfit and give me a sponge bath?" asked Jace. "It was Simon who promised you the sponge bath." "As soon as I'm back on my feet, handsome, " said Simon. "I knew we should have left you a rat.
The moment they met, Simon had decided that if looks matched personalities, Jon Cartwright would look like a horse's ass. Unfortunately, there is no justice in the world, and he looked instead like a walking Ken doll. Sometimes first impressions were misleading; sometimes they peered straight through to a person's inner soul. Simon was as sure now as he'd ever been: Jon's inner soul was a horse's ass.
Lucy swayed in shock. A gust of wind moaned through the conservatory and blew out all but one of her candles. Simon must have done this. He'd destroyed his fairyland conservatory. Why? She sank to her knees, huddled on the cold floor, her one remaining flame cradled in her numb palms. She'd seen how tenderly Simon had cared for his plants. Remembered the look of pride when she'd first discovered the dome and fountain. For him to have smashed all this . . . He must have lost hope. All hope.
Simon," she whispered, vaguely surprised that she had just used his first name, for she had never used it even in the privacy of her thoughts. Moistening her dry lips, she tried once more, and to her astonishment, she did it again. "Simon... " "Yes?" A new tension had entered his long, hard body, and at the same time, his hand moved over the shape of her skull in the softest caress possible. "Please... take me to my room." Hunt tilted her head back gently and regarded her with a sudden faint smile playing on his lips. "Sweetheart, I would take you to Timbuktu if you asked.
It doesn't hurt." "But my eyes do, " said a coolly amused voice from the doorway. Jace. He had come in so quietly that even Simon hadn't heard him; closing the door behind him, he grinned as Isabelle pulled Simon's shirt down. "Molesting the vampire while he's too weak to fight back, Iz?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure that violates at least one of the Accords." "I'm just showing him where he got stabbed, " Isabelle protested, but she scooted back to her chair with a certain amount of haste.
Jem looked at ease in a white sweater and dark jeans. His black hair had a single, dramatic streak of silver in it that stood out against his brown skin. 'How are you finding the training?' he asked, leaning forward. 'I don't bruise as much anymore, ' Simon said, shrugging. 'That's excellent, ' Jem said. 'It means you're finding your feet and deflecting more blows.' 'Really?' Simon said. 'I thought it was because I was dead inside.