The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and they're pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody's be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd have an overcoat this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line the last time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or you'd have a substitute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you'd just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be different in some way—I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it.
Clary shut her eyes. You didn't say no to an angel, no matter what it had in mind. Her heart pounding, she sat floating in the darkness behind her eyelids, resolutely trying not to think of Jace. But his face appear against the blank screen of her closed eyelids anyway - not smiling at her but looking sidelong, and she could see the scar at his temple, the uneven curl at the corner of his mouth, and the silver line on his throat where Simon had bitten him - all the marks and flaws and imperfections that made up the person she loved most in the world. Jace. A bright light lit her vision to scarlet, and she fell back against the sand, wondering if she was going to pass out - or maybe she was dying - but she didn't want to die, not now that she could see Jace's face so clearly in front of her. She could almost hear his voice, too, saying her name, the way he'd whispered it at Renwick's, over and over again. Clary. Clary. Clary.
"Clary," Jace said. "Open your eyes.
She sighed, annoyed at her restlessness. “So,†she said, disrupting Wolf in another backward glance.
“Who would win in a fight—you or a pack of wolves?â€
He frowned at her, all seriousness. “Depends,†he said, slowly, like he was trying to figure out her motive for asking. “How big is the pack?â€
“I don’t know, what’s normal? Six?â€
“I could win against six,†he said. “Any more than that and it could be a close call.â€
Scarlet smirked. “You’re not in danger of low self-esteem, at least.â€
“What do you mean?â€
“Nothing at all.†She kicked a stone from their path. “How about you and … a lion?â€
“A cat? Don’t insult me.â€
She laughed, the sound sharp and surprising. “How about a bear?â€
“Why, do you see one out there?â€
“Not yet, but I want to be prepared in case I have to rescue you.â€
The smile she’d been waiting for warmed his face, a glint of white teeth flashing. “I’m not sure. I’ve never had to fight a bear before.