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Pugster Shiny

Auroralove Shiny Led Batman EDC Hand Spinner Fidget Toy for Anti-Anxiety Stress Reducer-Spins for up to 2-5 Minutes-Ceramic Bearing Focus Toy for Adult & Kids (LED Batman Black) Flick and Spin for Hours With Just One Or Both Hands. Spins for up to 2 - 5 Minutes! (This depends on the power you use to spin)?
6
$5.06 USD

Flick and Spin for Hours With Just One Or Both Hands. Spins for up to 2 - 5 Minutes! (This depends on the power you use to spin)? Fidget toys take that simple, yet effective practice to the next level, providing you with a way to discharge your stress and anxiety in a quick and effective way, regardless of where you are Simply hold this spinner in one hand then use your other hand to spin it rapidly using small continuous strikes to keep it spinning indefinitely. It¡¯ll take a little bit of practice to get some decent action going, but it¡¯s super easy to happen plus you¡¯ll be thrilled by the fast, length spins.

2017
in Toys & games
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Chalk Markers, Blusmart 12 pack Colorful Erasable Glass Window Pens with 40 Chalkboard Labels, Reversible Tips 6mm+3mm, Children Friendly Extended set of Chalk & Glass markers for Kids and Adults. Blusmart liquid chalk pens decorate and add bright and vivid
4
$13.78 USD

Extended set of Chalk & Glass markers for Kids and Adults. Blusmart liquid chalk pens decorate and add bright and vivid colors to all kinds of objects. Set of 12 shiny chalk markers and glass markers with bold and fine tip. Chalk pens are filled with high quality dry & wet erasable chalk paint! Blusmart Liquid Chalk Markers & Pen 12 amazing liquid chalk markers with neon colors. 6mm + 3mm Reversible Tips We give you the best gift yet. 40 chalkboard labels in 8 different designs for you to have fun with. The possibilities are endless. Each chalk pen comes with a reversible tip that can be used with a bullet or chisel option. Stop using the old liquid chalkboard markers and join the Cedar Markers revolution. Unlike other types of chalkboard markers, our new and improved cap will save the tip from getting damaged. This will prolong the lifespan of your chalk pens.

2017
in Office
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1500 Live Ladybugs - Guaranteed Live Delivery! + Good Bug Nectar We Guarantee Live Delivery! ****Warning**** Please note if temperatures in your state are below 30 degrees or above 80 degrees we
3
$12.93 USD
1500 Live Ladybugs - Guaranteed Live Delivery! + Good Bug Nectar by Bug Sales

We Guarantee Live Delivery! ****Warning**** Please note if temperatures in your state are below 30 degrees or above 80 degrees we recommend upgrading your order to expedited or faster!!!! WARNING - WE DO NOT SHIP SUNDAY WE ARE CLOSED AND WE DO NOT SHIP ON THESE DAYS TO ENSURE OUR BUGS DON'T SIT IN A WAREHOUSE ALL WEEKEND Ladybugs are general predators that feed on a variety of slow-moving insects including Aphids, Moth eggs, Mites, Scales, Thrips, Leaf Hoppers, Mealybugs, Chinch Bugs, Asparagus Beetle larvae, Whitefly and other slow-moving insects. Ladybugs are a must-have for organic gardening or organic farming. A ladybug eats insects during both the adult and larval stages, so you can buy ladybugs as adults and continue to have live ladybugs eating through other parts of their life cycle as they reproduce. Adults are shiny, hemispherical beetles, often reddish-orange or yellow, with black markings. Larvae are black, with conspicuous legs and orange spots on their backs. The larvae are often compared in appearance to tiny alligators, and are similarly aggressive in consuming insects. The larvae move from plant to plant on leaves. Larvae pupate on the upper leaf surfaces, plant stems and twigs. Eggs are yellowish-orange ovals, laid on end in clusters of 10 to 50. Shipped: In mesh bags, or natural, unbleached, reusable cotton bags. Store In a regular household refrigerator for one to two weeks max. Release Tips: Release at dusk, after spraying some plants with water, so they can drink. Release near infestations in small amounts over a two week period. Release Rates: 1,500 ladybugs covers aprox.100 sq. feet. Half pint covers aprox. 3,000 sq. feet. 1 gallon covers aprox. 1 - 5 acres Heavy infestations use 1-2 gallons per acre.

2017
in Outdoor living
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Calily Life Organic Hair Growth and Anti Hair Loss Shampoo, 16.9 Oz.– For Men & Women - Infused with Caffeine, Argan Oil, Vitamins B5 - Protects Against Hair Loss, Strengthens & Thickens The Calily Life Organic Hair Growth and Anti Hair Loss Shampoo is a powerful caffeine enriched hair recovery and regrowth
3
$26.39 USD

The Calily Life Organic Hair Growth and Anti Hair Loss Shampoo is a powerful caffeine enriched hair recovery and regrowth Shampoo, specially formulated with organic extracts and nutrients to effectively fight hair loss and to enhance overall hair health. Contains caffeine, Argan Oil, Aloe Vera, Biotin, Vitamins B5, B7 and much more. Perfect for men and Women. Achieve amazing results without the use of harsh chemicals! Deeply penetrates the hair follicles and invigorates dormant and shrunken hair follicles to stimulate hair growth and reverse thinning. Contains natural DHT blockers and visibly amplifies and restores the hair strands to be stronger, thicker and healthier. Prevents breakage and damage, and helps improve the hair’s overall texture and brings damaged hair back to life. Amazingly fortifies, volumizes and replenishes the hair’s nutrients. Contains Aloe Vera, Pathenol (B5) and Biotin that amazingly helps in combating dry, coarse and damaged hair by infusing sensational hydration and moisture. Leaves hair feeling soft and refreshed, without leaving any grease or residue. Promotes healthy, shiny, and silky hair without paying for expensive salon treatments. Deeply moisturizes hair and nourishes for enhanced natural beauty. Achieve a shiny and smooth look! The Calily Life Organic Hair Growth and Anti Hair Loss Shampoo is organic, paraben free, sulfate free and FDA compliant, the Calily Life Organic Hair Growth and Anti Hair Loss Shampoo is hypoallergenic, is safe for sensitive skin and is not associated with any side effects. Perfect for all hair types. May be used daily.

2017
in Health & beauty
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LANGRIA 12-Cube DIY Shoe Rack, Multi Use Bedroom Cabinet Modular Organizer Storage Plastic Cabinet with Doors, 10 Cubbies and 2 Big Cubes, Black and White Curly Pattern Resistant storage option The best feature of DIY modular closets is their adaptability. LANGRIA’s multi-purpose shoe rack cube
2
$54.04 USD

Resistant storage option The best feature of DIY modular closets is their adaptability. LANGRIA’s multi-purpose shoe rack cube organizer can be put together in different shapes, adapting to your needs. The panels are made of a steel frame and Polypropylene (PP) to hold up to 13 lbs. (5.9kg) per cube. They have a modern design with black and translucent white panels and doors with a curly floral pattern. Shape it as you like it The sturdy and versatile design of these cubes makes the whole unit a great storage. Initially thought as a shoe rack, the unit is multi-functional and can perfectly store clothes, bedding, toys, bags, etc. Build the cubes together or use them separately to create a cube tower, nightstands, etc. and if you want a change the style, you can take the panels apart and start to build them again. Easy to assemble, even easier to take care of The package includes the panels and the plastic connectors to put together the unit. We recommend using a pair of gloves while assembling the unit in order to prevent you from getting scratched. The modular shoe rack is waterproof and dust-resistant. Clean it with a damp cloth to keep it shiny as new. Product specification Total dimensions (2 cube W x 6 cube H): 37.4 x 14.6 x 50.4 in Net weight: 19.8 lbs. Dimensions small cubby: 19.3 x 14.6 x 8.3 in Dimensions large cube: 19.3 x 14.6 x 15.4 in Weight capacity per cubby: 13 lbs. (on 17.7” x 13.8” panel) Package Includes 16 x (17.7” x 13.8”) black panel 10 x (17.7” x 6.7”) black panel 15 x (13.8” x 6.7”) black panel 3 x (13.8” x 13.8”) black panel 10 x (17.7” x 6.7”) translucent white door panel 2 x (17.7” x 13.8”) translucent white door panel 42 x black connector 1 x assembly instruction sheet Please Note: Kindly keep an eye on children when near the unit

2017
in Furniture
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DakPets Dog Brush & Cat Brush For Small, Medium & Large Dogs and Cats, With Short to Long Hair. Dramatically Reduces Shedding In Minutes GUARANTEED! Color:Blue Here's A Quick, Easy, Clean Way to Remove the Loose, Dead Undercoat, while Gaining A Shiny Top Coat, IN A MATTER
2
$17.24 USD

Color:Blue Here's A Quick, Easy, Clean Way to Remove the Loose, Dead Undercoat, while Gaining A Shiny Top Coat, IN A MATTER OF MINUTES- GUARANTEED! Sick & Tired of your pet dropping hair ALL over the house & in the car? Fact is- dogs & cats shed ALOT; So, if you are looking for a sure fire way to reduce shedding by up to 95%, without damaging the topcoat, whilst promoting healthier skin & a shiny top coat then this may be the most important page you've read today. Our deshedding & light trimming tool will dramatically reduce shedding after just one 15 minute session. It is developed by Pet Care EXPERTS who specialize in dog + cat grooming tools. Best of All: use it on- short & long hair dogs + cats; both small & large.Our materials protect you & your pets from skin allergies. DakPets Features: 1. STRONG, soft, durable handle that won't break 2. Non irritation 100mm stainless replacement comb 3. Use it as a stand-alone grooming tool to remove loose dead hair. Very Versatile Here's what you get when you buy DakPets:- - 1 deshedding tool with a 100mm stainless comb - 2 Free BONUS'- Dog Owners Handbook & Cat Training 101 Ebooks GUARANTEE: If our deshedding & light trimming tool is not everything that we say it is & you're not completely satisfied with it for 30 days; we will refund every penny of your money, straight away. And you can keep the Free EBooks! This is the only deshedding tool backed by a 30 day GUARANTEE. Unfortunately we can't guarantee how long the current price & Free bonus offer will be around for. So go ahead and click on the Add to Cart button on the top right hand corner of this page before the price increases and the Free Bonus offer disappears

2017
in Pantry, household & pets
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Jstyle 6 Pairs 18G Stainless Steel Mens Womens Stud Earrings Cartilage Ear Piercings Helix Tragus Barbell CZ 3-8mm Jstyle Jewelry: Your Reliable Choice of Fashion Jewelry High average review rating of jewelry collection. All handmade jewelry,
1
$11.49 USD

Jstyle Jewelry: Your Reliable Choice of Fashion Jewelry High average review rating of jewelry collection. All handmade jewelry, well polished and one by one quality controlled. Affordable prices and luxury appearance. Jstyle 6 Pairs 18G Stainless Steel Mens Womens Stud Earrings Cartilage Ear Piercings Helix Tragus Barbell CZ 3-8mm 6 pairs earrings in black and silver-tone. You can choose different color to match your suits everyday. 6 Pairs in 6 size, 3-8mm, suit for your different use and everyday outfit. Shiny CZ special barbell stud earrings, let you become the focus all the time. It is perfect to keep as a daily jewelry. Made of high-quality stainless steel, solid and durable, comfortable to wear. This earring set uses the excellent electroplate technique which guarantees long-time color retention. Long time Warranty At Jstyle Jewelry, we believe in our products. That's why we back them all with an 90-day warranty and provide friendly, easy-to-reach support.

2017
in Clothing & accessories
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Tea Kettle - Surgical Whistling Stove Top Kettle Teapot with Layered Capsule Bottom, Silicone Handle, Mirror Finish, 2.75 Quart - Tea Maker Infuser Strainer Included The Willow & Everett Story: Committed to Quality and Service Willow & Everett was born out of two people's love for
2
$50.59 USD

The Willow & Everett Story: Committed to Quality and Service Willow & Everett was born out of two people's love for their kitchen and entertaining in their home. It was founded on the principle that the kitchen truly is the heart of the home, and the reality that any table is warmer with people gathered around it. A functional kitchen however, doesn't have to mean an un-stylish one! Tired of having two sets of every item in their home - one for functional use in the kitchen and one "nicer" set for hosting - the Willow & Everett founders decided to put an end to it. True to its origins, Willow & Everett continues to design and offer customers kitchen and home products that deliver on both function AND design, made to be aesthetically pleasing as well as work-horses in the kitchen that will help you get the job done. Veteran-founded and operated, Willow & Everett is not only focused on excellent quality products but on giving back as well. Willow & Everett believes in giving out of what you have - no matter how big or small. Founded on that philosophy, the company gives a portion of its profits to the Wounded Warrior Project and to providing education and healthcare to children in impoverished areas of Uganda.  Premium Tea Infuser for Loose Leaf Tea (or Coffee!) Included! If you’re a tea or coffee lover, you’ll be thrilled to know that this whistling tea kettle comes with a tea infuser ball made out of high quality stainless steel. This coffee and tea infuser is perfect for most loose leaf teas including green tea and herbal teas. The tea infuser will reduce debris and unwanted leaves floating in your cup. It even works for coarsely ground coffee! It’s the perfect addition to your tea kettle - especially if you’re giving it as a gift! The large tea infuser is ideal for a large single mug serving. Just fill the tea infuser ⅓ or ½ way with loose leaf tea (or coffee) and let it seep in a mug of hot water. Or you can even use the tea infuser in a tea kettle or teapot if you’d like to make more than one cup!High-Quality Stainless Steel and BPA/Teflon-Free Design Made with superior craftsmanship Willow & Everett's stainless steel surgical stove top kettle features 18/8 food-grade stainless steel and an ergonomically designed non-slip grip silicone handle. The shiny mirror finish makes this a stand out piece in ANY kitchen and is pretty enough to leave out on your stove!A 5-Ply Capsule Bottom Quickly Boils Water Unlike other lighter weight kettles that are made with just one or two layers of metal, this Willow & Everett stove top kettle is made with FIVE layers of high quality metal, including iron, steel and aluminum, formed into a capsule that evenly and quickly heats up your water. Just by feeling the weight of the kettle, users can discern the difference in quality and durability for themselves. 

2017
in Pantry, household & pets
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1500 Live Ladybugs - Good Bugs - Ladybugs - Guaranteed Live Delivery! We Guarantee Live Delivery! ****Warning**** Please note if temperatures in your state are below 30 degrees or above 80 degrees we
4
1500 Live Ladybugs - Good Bugs - Ladybugs - Guaranteed Live Delivery! by Bug Sales

We Guarantee Live Delivery! ****Warning**** Please note if temperatures in your state are below 30 degrees or above 80 degrees we recommend upgrading your order to expedited or faster!!!! WARNING - WE DO NOT SHIP FRIDAY - SUNDAY WE ARE CLOSED AND WE DO NOT SHIP ON THESE DAYS TO ENSURE OUR BUGS DON'T SIT IN A WAREHOUSE ALL WEEKEND Ladybugs are general predators that feed on a variety of slow-moving insects including Aphids, Moth eggs, Mites, Scales, Thrips, Leaf Hoppers, Mealybugs, Chinch Bugs, Asparagus Beetle larvae, Whitefly and other slow-moving insects. Ladybugs are a must-have for organic gardening or organic farming. A ladybug eats insects during both the adult and larval stages, so you can buy ladybugs as adults and continue to have live ladybugs eating through other parts of their life cycle as they reproduce. Adults are shiny, hemispherical beetles, often reddish-orange or yellow, with black markings. Larvae are black, with conspicuous legs and orange spots on their backs. The larvae are often compared in appearance to tiny alligators, and are similarly aggressive in consuming insects. The larvae move from plant to plant on leaves. Larvae pupate on the upper leaf surfaces, plant stems and twigs. Eggs are yellowish-orange ovals, laid on end in clusters of 10 to 50. Shipped: In mesh bags, or natural, unbleached, reusable cotton bags. Store In a regular household refrigerator for one to two weeks max. Release Tips: Release at dusk, after spraying some plants with water, so they can drink. Release near infestations in small amounts over a two week period. Release Rates: 1,500 ladybugs cover approx.1000 sq. ft., 4,500 ladybugs cover approx. 3,000 sq. ft., 9,000 ladybugs cover approx. 6,000 sq.ft., 1 gallon covers approx. 1 – 5 acres.

2017
in Outdoor living
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Natural Balance Limited Ingredient Diets Dry Dog Food - Sweet Potato & Bison Formula Size:26-Pound Formulated with a limited list of premium protein and carbohydrate sources, this L.I.D. Limited Ingredient Diets
3
$62.09 USD

Size:26-Pound Formulated with a limited list of premium protein and carbohydrate sources, this L.I.D. Limited Ingredient Diets formula is excellent when you are seeking alternative ingredients for your pet. L.I.D. Limited Ingredient Diets Sweet Potato & Bison Formula Dry Dog Food is a grain-free diet that’s also designed to maintain your dog’s digestive health while supporting healthy skin and a shiny, luxurious coat. A unique, premium-quality protein source, bison is a lean meat that’s rich in amino acids with fewer calories and less fat compared to other meats. Guaranteed Analysis: Crude Protein 20.0% minimum Crude Fat 10.0% minimum Crude Fiber 4.0% maximum Moisture 10.0% maximum Calcium 1.0% minimum Phosphorus 0.8% minimum Docosahexaenoic Acid (DHA)* 0.01% minimum Omega-6 Fatty Acids* 1.7% minimum Omega-3 Fatty Acids* 0.5% minimum *Not recognized as an essential nutrient by the AAFCO Dog Food Nutrient Profiles. Dick Van Patten's Natural Balance L.I.D. Limited Ingredient Diets Sweet Potato & Bison Formula For Dogs is formulated to meet the nutritional levels established by the AAFCO dog food nutrient profiles for all life stages.

2017
in Pantry, household & pets
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DakPets Dog Brush & Cat Brush For Small, Medium & Large Dogs and Cats, With Short to Long Hair. Dramatically Reduces Shedding In Minutes GUARANTEED! Color:Blue Here's A Quick, Easy, Clean Way to Remove the Loose, Dead Undercoat, while Gaining A Shiny Top Coat, IN A MATTER
1
$17.24 USD

Color:Blue Here's A Quick, Easy, Clean Way to Remove the Loose, Dead Undercoat, while Gaining A Shiny Top Coat, IN A MATTER OF MINUTES- GUARANTEED! Sick & Tired of your pet dropping hair ALL over the house & in the car? Fact is- dogs & cats shed ALOT; So, if you are looking for a sure fire way to reduce shedding by up to 95%, without damaging the topcoat, whilst promoting healthier skin & a shiny top coat then this may be the most important page you've read today. Our deshedding & light trimming tool will dramatically reduce shedding after just one 15 minute session. It is developed by Pet Care EXPERTS who specialize in dog + cat grooming tools. Best of All: use it on- short & long hair dogs + cats; both small & large.Our materials protect you & your pets from skin allergies. DakPets Features: 1. STRONG, soft, durable handle that won't break 2. Non irritation 100mm stainless replacement comb 3. Use it as a stand-alone grooming tool to remove loose dead hair. Very Versatile Here's what you get when you buy DakPets:- - 1 deshedding tool with a 100mm stainless comb - 2 Free BONUS'- Dog Owners Handbook & Cat Training 101 Ebooks GUARANTEE: If our deshedding & light trimming tool is not everything that we say it is & you're not completely satisfied with it for 30 days; we will refund every penny of your money, straight away. And you can keep the Free EBooks! This is the only deshedding tool backed by a 30 day GUARANTEE. Unfortunately we can't guarantee how long the current price & Free bonus offer will be around for. So go ahead and click on the Add to Cart button on the top right hand corner of this page before the price increases and the Free Bonus offer disappears

2017
in Pantry, household & pets
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1500 Live Ladybugs - Good Bugs - Ladybugs - Guaranteed Live Delivery! We Guarantee Live Delivery! ****Warning**** Please note if temperatures in your state are below 30 degrees or above 80 degrees we
4
$13.80 USD
1500 Live Ladybugs - Good Bugs - Ladybugs - Guaranteed Live Delivery!

We Guarantee Live Delivery! ****Warning**** Please note if temperatures in your state are below 30 degrees or above 80 degrees we recommend upgrading your order to expedited or faster!!!! WARNING - WE DO NOT SHIP FRIDAY - SUNDAY WE ARE CLOSED AND WE DO NOT SHIP ON THESE DAYS TO ENSURE OUR BUGS DON'T SIT IN A WAREHOUSE ALL WEEKEND Ladybugs are general predators that feed on a variety of slow-moving insects including Aphids, Moth eggs, Mites, Scales, Thrips, Leaf Hoppers, Mealybugs, Chinch Bugs, Asparagus Beetle larvae, Whitefly and other slow-moving insects. Ladybugs are a must-have for organic gardening or organic farming. A ladybug eats insects during both the adult and larval stages, so you can buy ladybugs as adults and continue to have live ladybugs eating through other parts of their life cycle as they reproduce. Adults are shiny, hemispherical beetles, often reddish-orange or yellow, with black markings. Larvae are black, with conspicuous legs and orange spots on their backs. The larvae are often compared in appearance to tiny alligators, and are similarly aggressive in consuming insects. The larvae move from plant to plant on leaves. Larvae pupate on the upper leaf surfaces, plant stems and twigs. Eggs are yellowish-orange ovals, laid on end in clusters of 10 to 50. Shipped: In mesh bags, or natural, unbleached, reusable cotton bags. Store In a regular household refrigerator for one to two weeks max. Release Tips: Release at dusk, after spraying some plants with water, so they can drink. Release near infestations in small amounts over a two week period. Release Rates: 1,500 ladybugs cover approx.1000 sq. ft., 4,500 ladybugs cover approx. 3,000 sq. ft., 9,000 ladybugs cover approx. 6,000 sq.ft., 1 gallon covers approx. 1 – 5 acres.

2017
in Outdoor living
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Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices) About the Author Cassandra Clare is the #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of Lord of Shadows and Lady
4
$17.14 USD
Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices) by Cassandra Clare

About the Author Cassandra Clare is the #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of Lord of Shadows and Lady Midnight, as well as the internationally bestselling Mortal Instruments series and Infernal Devices trilogy. She is the coauthor of The Bane Chronicles with Sarah Rees Brennan and Maureen Johnson and Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy with Sarah Rees Brennan, Maureen Johnson, and Robin Wasserman, as well as The Shadowhunter’s Codex, which she cowrote with her husband, Joshua Lewis. Her books have more than 50 million copies in print worldwide and have been translated into more than thirty-five languages, a feature film, and a TV show, Shadowhunters, currently airing on Freeform. Cassandra lives in western Massachusetts. Visit her at CassandraClare.com. Learn more about the world of the Shadowhunters at Shadowhunters.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Lord of Shadows 1 STILL WATERS Kit had only recently found out what a flail was, and now there was a rack of them hanging over his head, shiny and sharp and deadly. He had never seen anything like the weapons room at the Los Angeles Institute before. The walls and floors were white-silver granite, and granite islands rose at intervals throughout the room, making the whole place look like the arms and armor exhibit at a museum. There were staves and maces, cleverly designed walking sticks, necklaces, boots and padded jackets that concealed slim, flat blades for stabbing and throwing. Morning stars covered in terrible spikes, and crossbows of all sizes and types. The granite islands themselves were covered with stacks of gleaming instruments carved out of adamas, the quartz-like substance that Shadowhunters mined from the earth and that they alone knew how to turn into swords and blades and steles. Of more interest to Kit was the shelf that held daggers. It wasn’t that he had any particular desire to learn how to use a dagger—nothing beyond the general interest he figured most teenagers had in deadly weapons, but even then, he’d rather be issued a machine gun or a flamethrower. But the daggers were works of art, their hilts inlaid with gold and silver and precious gems—blue sapphires, cabochon rubies, glimmering patterns of thorns etched in platinum and black diamonds. He could think of at least three people at the Shadow Market who’d buy them off him for good money, no questions asked. Maybe four. Kit stripped off the denim jacket he was wearing—he didn’t know which of the Blackthorns it had belonged to originally; he’d woken up the morning after he’d come to the Institute to find a freshly laundered pile of clothes at the foot of his bed—and shrugged on a padded jacket. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror at the far end of the room. Ragged blond hair, the last of fading bruises on his pale skin. He unzipped the inside pocket of the jacket and began to stuff it with sheathed daggers, picking the ones with the fanciest hilts. The door to the weapons room swung open. Kit dropped the dagger he was holding back onto the shelf and turned around hastily. He thought he’d slipped out of his bedroom without being noticed, but if there was one thing he’d come to realize during his short time at the Institute, it was that Julian Blackthorn noticed everything, and his siblings weren’t far behind. But it wasn’t Julian. It was a young man Kit hadn’t ever seen before, though something about him was familiar. He was tall, with tousled blond hair and a Shadowhunter’s build—broad shoulders, muscular arms, the black lines of the runic Marks they protected themselves with peeking out from the collar and cuffs of his shirt. His eyes were an unusual dark gold color. He wore a heavy silver ring on one finger, as many of the Shadowhunters did. He raised an eyebrow at Kit. “Like weapons, do you?” he said. “They’re all right.” Kit backed up a little toward one of the tables, hoping the daggers in his inside pocket didn’t rattle. The man went over to the shelf Kit had been rifling through and picked up the dagger he’d dropped. “You picked a good one here,” he said. “See the inscription on the handle?” Kit didn’t. “It was made by one of the descendants of Wayland the Smith, who made Durendal and Cortana.” The man spun the dagger between his fingers before setting it back on its shelf. “Nothing as extraordinary as Cortana, but daggers like that will always return to your hand after you throw them. Convenient.” Kit cleared his throat. “It must be worth a lot,” he said. “I doubt the Blackthorns are looking to sell,” said the man dryly. “I’m Jace, by the way. Jace Herondale.” He paused. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, which Kit was determined not to give him. He knew the name Herondale, all right. It felt like it was the only word anyone had said to him in the past two weeks. But that didn’t mean he wanted to give the man—Jace—the satisfaction he was clearly looking for. Jace looked unmoved by Kit’s silence. “And you’re Christopher Herondale.” “How do you know that?” Kit said, keeping his voice flat and unenthusiastic. He hated the name Herondale. He hated the word. “Family resemblance,” said Jace. “We look alike. In fact, you look like drawings of a lot of Herondales I’ve seen.” He paused. “Also, Emma sent me a cell phone picture of you.” Emma. Emma Carstairs had saved Kit’s life. They hadn’t spoken much since, though—in the wake of the death of Malcolm Fade, the High Warlock of Los Angeles, everything had been in chaos. He hadn’t been anyone’s first priority, and besides, he had a feeling she thought of him as a little kid. “Fine. I’m Kit Herondale. People keep telling me that, but it doesn’t mean anything to me.” Kit set his jaw. “I’m a Rook. Kit Rook.” “I know what your father told you. But you’re a Herondale. And that does mean something.” “What? What does it mean?” Kit demanded. Jace leaned back against the wall of the weapons room, just under a display of heavy claymores. Kit hoped one would fall on his head. “I know you’re aware of Shadowhunters,” he said. “A lot of people are, especially Downworlders and mundanes with the Sight. Which is what you thought you were, correct?” “I never thought I was a mundane,” said Kit. Didn’t Shadowhunters understand how it sounded when they used that word? Jace ignored him, though. “Shadowhunter society and history—those aren’t things most people who aren’t Nephilim know about. The Shadowhunter world is made up of families, each of which has a name that they cherish. Each family has a history we pass on to each successive generation. We bear the glories and the burdens of our names, the good and the bad our ancestors have done, through all our lives. We try to live up to our names, so that those who come after us will bear lighter burdens.” He crossed his arms over his chest. His wrists were covered in Marks; there was one that looked like an open eye on the back of his left hand. Kit had noticed all Shadowhunters seemed to have that one. “Among Shadowhunters, your last name is deeply meaningful. The Herondales have been a family who have shaped the destinies of Shadowhunters for generations. There aren’t many of us left—in fact, everyone thought I was the last. Only Jem and Tessa had faith you existed. They looked for you for a long time.” Jem and Tessa. Along with Emma, they had helped Kit escape the demons who had murdered his father. And they had told him a story: the story of a Herondale who had betrayed his friends and fled, starting a new life away from other Nephilim. A new life and a new family line. “I heard about Tobias Herondale,” he said. “So I’m the descendant of a big coward.” “People are flawed,” said Jace. “Not every member of your family is going to be awesome. But when you see Tessa again, and you will, she can tell you about Will Herondale. And James Herondale. And me, of course,” he added, modestly. “As far as Shadowhunters go, I’m a pretty big deal. Not to intimidate you.” “I don’t feel intimidated,” said Kit, wondering if this guy was for real. There was a gleam in Jace’s eye as he spoke that indicated that he might not take what he was saying all that seriously, but it was hard to be sure. “I feel like I want to be left alone.” “I know it’s a lot to digest,” Jace said. He reached out to clap Kit on the back. “But Clary and I will be here for as long as you need us to—” The clap on the back dislodged one of the daggers in Kit’s pocket. It clattered to the ground between them, winking up from the granite floor like an accusing eye. “Right,” Jace said into the ensuing silence. “So you’re stealing weapons.” Kit, who knew the pointlessness of an obvious denial, said nothing. “Okay, look, I know your dad was a crook, but you’re a Shadowhunter now and—wait, what else is in that jacket?” Jace demanded. He did something complicated with his left boot that kicked the dagger up into the air. He caught it neatly, the rubies in the hilt scattering light. “Take it off.” Silently, Kit shucked off his jacket and threw it down on the table. Jace flipped it over and opened the inside pocket. They both gazed silently at the gleam of blades and precious stones. “So,” Jace said. “You were planning on running away, I take it?” “Why should I stay?” Kit exploded. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it—it was too much: the loss of his father, his hatred of the Institute, the smugness of the Nephilim, their demands that he accept a last name he didn’t care about and didn’t want to care about. “I don’t belong here. You can tell me all this stuff about my name, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m Johnny Rook’s son. I’ve been training my whole life to be like my dad, not to be like you. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you. All I need is some start-up money, and I can set up my own booth at the Shadow Market.” Jace’s gold eyes narrowed, and for the first time Kit saw, under the arrogant, joking facade, the gleam of a sharp intelligence. “And sell what? Your dad sold information. It took him years, and a lot of bad magic, to build up those connections. You want to sell your soul like that, so you can scratch out a living on the edges of Downworld? And what about what killed your dad? You saw him die, didn’t you?” “Demons—” “Yeah, but somebody sent them. The Guardian might be dead, but that doesn’t mean no one’s looking for you. You’re fifteen years old. You might think you want to die, but trust me—you don’t.” Kit swallowed. He tried to picture himself standing behind the counter of a booth at the Shadow Market, the way he had for the past few days. But the truth was he’d always been safe at the Market because of his dad. Because people were afraid of Johnny Rook. What would happen to him there without his dad’s protection? “But I’m not a Shadowhunter,” Kit said. He glanced around the room, at the millions of weapons, the piles of adamas, the gear and body armor and weapon belts. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t a ninja. “I wouldn’t even know how to start to be one.” “Give it another week,” Jace said. “Another week here at the Institute. Give yourself a chance. Emma told me how you fought off those demons who killed your dad. Only a Shadowhunter could have done that.” Kit barely remembered battling the demons in his father’s house, but he knew he’d done it. His body had taken over, and he’d fought, and he’d even, in a small, strange, hidden way, enjoyed it. “This is what you are,” said Jace. “You’re a Shadowhunter. You’re part angel. You have the blood of angels in your veins. You’re a Herondale. Which, by the way, means that not only are you part of a stunningly good-looking family, but you’re also part of a family that owns a lot of valuable property, including a London town house and a manor in Idris, which you’re probably entitled to part of. You know, if you were interested.” Kit looked at the ring on Jace’s left hand. It was silver, heavy, and looked old. And valuable. “I’m listening.” “All I am saying is give it a week. After all”—Jace grinned—“Herondales can’t resist a challenge.” *   *   * “A Teuthida demon?” Julian said into the phone, his eyebrows crinkling. “That’s basically a squid, right?” The reply was inaudible: Emma could recognize Ty’s voice, but not the words. “Yeah, we’re at the pier,” Julian went on. “We haven’t seen anything yet, but we just arrived. Too bad they don’t have designated parking spots for Shadowhunters here . . . .” Her mind only half on Julian’s voice, Emma glanced around. The sun had just gone down. She’d always loved the Santa Monica Pier, since she was a little girl and her parents had taken her there to play air hockey and ride the old-fashioned merry-go-round. She loved the junk food—burgers and milk shakes, fried clams and giant swirled lollipops—and Pacific Park, the run-down amusement park at the very end of the pier, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The mundanes had poured millions of dollars into revamping the pier into a tourist attraction over the years. Pacific Park was full of new, shiny rides; the old churro carts were gone, replaced by artisanal ice cream and lobster platters. But the boards under Emma’s feet were still warped and weathered by years of sun and salt. The air still smelled like sugar and seaweed. The merry-go-round still spilled its mechanical music into the air. There were still coin-toss games where you could win a giant stuffed panda. And there were still dark spaces under the pier, where aimless mundanes gathered and sometimes, more sinister things. That was the thing about being a Shadowhunter, Emma thought, glancing toward the massive Ferris wheel decorated with gleaming LED lights. A line of mundanes eager to get on stretched down the pier; past the railings, she could glimpse the dark blue sea tipped with white where the waves broke. Shadowhunters saw the beauty in the things mundanes created—the lights of the Ferris wheel reflecting off the ocean so brightly that it looked as if someone were setting off fireworks underwater: red, blue, green, purple, and gold—but they saw the darkness, too, the danger and the rot. “What’s wrong?” Julian asked. He’d slid his phone into the pocket of his gear jacket. The wind—there was always wind on the pier, the wind that blew ceaselessly off the ocean, smelling of salt and faraway places—lifted the soft waves of his brown hair, made them kiss his cheeks and temples. Dark thoughts, Emma wanted to say. She couldn’t, though. Once Julian had been the person she could tell everything. Now he was the one person she couldn’t tell anything. Instead she avoided his gaze. “Where are Mark and Cristina?” “Over there.” He pointed. “By the ring toss.” Emma followed his gaze to the brightly painted stand where people competed to see who could toss a plastic ring and land it around the neck of one of a dozen lined-up bottles. She tried not to feel superior that this was apparently something mundanes found difficult. Julian’s half brother, Mark, held three plastic rings in his hand. Cristina, her dark hair caught up in a neat bun, stood beside him, eating caramel corn and laughing. Mark threw the rings: all three at once. Each spiraled out in a different direction and landed around the neck of a bottle. Julian sighed. “So much for being inconspicuous.” A mixture of cheers and noises of disbelief went up from the mundanes at the ring toss. Fortunately, there weren’t many of them, and Mark was able to collect his prize—something in a plastic bag—and escape with a minimum of fuss. He headed back toward them with Cristina at his side. The tips of his pointed ears peeked through the loops of his light hair, but he was glamoured so that mundanes wouldn’t see them. Mark was half-faerie, and his Downworlder blood showed itself in the delicacy of his features, the tips of his ears, and the angularity of his eyes and cheekbones. “So it’s a squid demon?” Emma said, mostly just to have something to say to fill the silence between her and Julian. There were a lot of silences between her and Julian these days. It had only been two weeks since everything had changed, but she felt the difference profoundly, in her bones. She felt his distance, though he had never been anything but scrupulously polite and kind ever since she had told him about her and Mark. “Apparently,” Julian said. Mark and Cristina had come into earshot; Cristina was finishing her caramel corn and looking sadly into the bag as if hoping more would appear. Emma could relate. Mark, meanwhile, was gazing down at his prize. “It climbs up the side of the pier and snatches people—mostly kids, anyone leaning over the side taking a picture at night. It’s been getting braver, though. Apparently someone spotted it inside the game area near the table hockey—is that a goldfish?” Mark held up his plastic bag. Inside it, a small orange fish swam around in a circle. “This is the best patrol we’ve ever done,” he said. “I have never been awarded a fish before.” Emma sighed inwardly. Mark had spent the past few years of his life with the Wild Hunt, the most anarchic and feral of all faeries. They rode across the sky on all manner of enchanted beings—motorcycles, horses, deer, massive snarling dogs—and scavenged battlefields, taking valuables from the bodies of the dead and giving them in tribute to the Faerie Courts. He was adjusting well to being back among his Shadowhunter family, but there were still times when ordinary life seemed to take him by surprise. He noticed now that everyone was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He looked alarmed and placed a tentative arm around Emma’s shoulders, holding out the bag in the other hand. “I have won for you a fish, my fair one,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. It was a sweet kiss, gentle and soft, and Mark smelled like he always did: like cold outside air and green growing things. And it made absolute sense, Emma thought, for Mark to assume that everyone was startled because they were waiting for him to give her his prize. She was, after all, his girlfriend. She exchanged a worried glance with Cristina, whose dark eyes had gotten very large. Julian looked as if he were about to throw up blood. It was only a brief look before he schooled his features back into indifference, but Emma drew away from Mark, smiling at him apologetically. “I couldn’t keep a fish alive,” she said. “I kill plants just by looking at them.” “I suspect I would have the same problem,” Mark said, eyeing the fish. “It is too bad—I was going to name it Magnus, because it has sparkly scales.” At that, Cristina giggled. Magnus Bane was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and he had a penchant for glitter. “I suppose I had better let him go free,” Mark said. Before anyone could say anything, he made his way to the railing of the pier and emptied the bag, fish and all, into the sea. “Does anyone want to tell him that goldfish are freshwater fish and can’t survive in the ocean?” said Julian quietly. “Not really,” said Cristina. “Did he just kill Magnus?” Emma asked, but before Julian could answer, Mark whirled around. All humor had gone from his expression. “I just saw something scuttle up one of the pilings below the pier. Something very much not human.” Emma felt a faint shiver pass over her skin. The demons who made the ocean their habitation were rarely seen on land. Sometimes she had nightmares where the ocean turned itself inside out and vomited its contents onto the beach: spiny, tentacled, slimy, blackened things half-crushed by the weight of water. Within seconds, each of the Shadowhunters had a weapon in hand—Emma was clutching her sword, Cortana, a golden blade given to her by her parents. Julian held a seraph blade, and Cristina her butterfly knife. “Which way did it go?” Julian asked. “Toward the end of the pier,” said Mark; he alone had not reached for a weapon, but Emma knew how fast he was. His nickname in the Wild Hunt had been elf-shot, for he was swift and accurate with a bow and arrow or a thrown blade. “Toward the amusement park.” “I’ll go that way,” Emma said. “Try to drive it off the edge of the pier—Mark, Cristina, you go down under, catch it if it tries to crawl back into the water.” They barely had time to nod, and Emma was off and running. The wind tugged at her braided hair as she wove through the crowd toward the lighted park at the pier’s end. Cortana felt warm and solid in her hand, and her feet flew over the sea-warped wooden slats. She felt free, her worries cast aside, everything in her mind and body focused on the task at hand. She could hear footsteps beside her. She didn’t need to look to know it was Jules. His footsteps had been beside hers for all the years she had been a fighting Shadowhunter. His blood had been spilled when hers was. He had saved her life and she had saved his. He was part of her warrior self. “There,” she heard him say, but she’d already seen it: a dark, humped shape clambering up the support structure of the Ferris wheel. The carriages continued to rotate around it, the passengers shrieking in delight, unaware. Emma hit the line for the wheel and started shoving her way through it. She and Julian had put glamour runes on before they’d gotten to the pier, and they were invisible to mundane eyes. That didn’t mean they couldn’t make their presence felt, though. Mundanes in line swore and yelled as she stomped on feet and elbowed her way to the front. A carriage was just swinging down, a couple—a girl eating purple cotton candy and her black-clad, lanky boyfriend—about to climb in. Glancing up, Emma saw a flicker as the Teuthida demon slithered around the top of the wheel support. Swearing, Emma pushed past the couple, nearly knocking them aside, and leaped into the carriage. It was octagonal, a bench running around the inside, with plenty of room to stand. She heard yells of surprise as the carriage rose, lifting her away from the scene of chaos she’d created below, the couple who’d been about to board the wheel yelling at the ticket taker, and the people in line behind them yelling at each other. The carriage rocked under her feet as Julian landed beside her, setting it to swinging. He craned his head up. “Do you see it?” Emma squinted. She had seen the demon, she was sure of that, but it seemed to have vanished. From this angle, the Ferris wheel was a mess of bright lights, spinning spokes, and white-painted iron bars. The two carriages below her and Julian were empty of people; the line must still be sorting itself out. Good, Emma thought. The fewer people who got on the wheel, the better. “Stop.” She felt Julian’s hand on her arm, turning her around. Her whole body tensed. “Runes,” he said shortly, and she realized he was holding his stele in his free hand. Their carriage was still rising. Emma could see the beach below, the dark water spilling up onto the sand, the hills of Palisades Park rising vertically above the highway, crowned with a fringe of trees and greenery. The stars were dim but visible beyond the bright lights of the pier. Julian held her arm neither roughly nor gently, but with a sort of clinical distance. He turned it over, his stele describing quick motions over her wrist, inking runes of protection there, runes of speed and agility and enhanced hearing. This was the closest Emma had been to Jules in two weeks. She felt dizzy from it, a little drunk. His head was bent, his eyes fixed on the task at hand, and she took the opportunity to absorb the sight of him. The lights of the wheel had turned amber and yellow; they powdered his tanned skin with gold. His hair fell in loose, fine waves over his forehead. She knew the way the skin by the corners of his mouth was soft, and the way his shoulders felt under her hands, strong and hard and vibrant. His lashes were long and thick, so dark that they seemed to have been charcoaled; she half expected them to leave a dusting of black powder on the tops of his cheekbones when he blinked. He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful, but she had noticed it too late. And now she stood with her hands at her sides and her body aching because she couldn’t touch him. She could never touch him again. He finished what he was doing and spun the stele around so the handle was toward her. She took it without a word as he pulled aside the collar of his shirt, under his gear jacket. The skin there was a shade paler than the tanned skin on his face and hands, scored over and over with the faint white Marks of runes that had been used up and faded away. She had to move a step nearer to Mark him. The runes bloomed under the tip of the stele: agility, night vision. Her head reached just to the level of his chin. She was staring directly at his throat, and saw him swallow. “Just tell me,” he said. “Just tell me that he makes you happy. That Mark makes you happy.” She jerked her head up. She had finished the runes; he reached to take the stele from her motionless hand. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was looking directly at her, his eyes turned dark blue by the colors of the night sky and the sea, spreading out all around them as they neared the top of the wheel. “I’m happy, Jules,” she said. What was one lie among so many others? She had never been someone who lied easily, but she was finding her way. When the safety of people she loved depended on it, she’d found, she could lie. “This is—this is smarter, safer for both of us.” The line of his gentle mouth hardened. “That’s not—” She gasped. A writhing shape rose up behind him—it was the color of an oil slick, its fringed tentacles clinging to a spoke of the wheel. Its mouth was wide open, a perfect circle ringed with teeth. “Jules!” she shouted, and flung herself from the carriage, catching onto one of the thin iron bars that ran between the spokes. Dangling by one hand, she slashed out with Cortana, catching the Teuthida as it reared back. It yowled, and ichor sprayed; Emma cried out as it splashed her neck, burning her skin. A knife punched into the demon’s round, ribbed body. Pulling herself up onto a spoke, Emma glanced down to see Julian poised on the edge of the carriage, another knife already in hand. He sighted down along his arm, let the second knife fly— It clanged off the bottom of an empty carriage. The Teuthida, incredibly fast, had whipped its way out of sight. Emma could hear it scrabbling downward, along the tangle of metal bars that made up the inside of the wheel. Emma sheathed Cortana and began to crawl along the length of her spoke, heading toward the bottom of the wheel. LED lights exploded around her in purple and gold. There was ichor and blood on her hands, making the descent slippery. Incongruously, the view from the wheel was beautiful, the sea and the sand opening in front of her in all directions, as if she were dangling off the edge of the world. She could taste blood in her mouth, and salt. Below her, she could see Julian, out of the carriage, clambering along a lower spoke. He glanced up at her and pointed; she followed the line of his hand and saw the Teuthida nearly at the wheel’s center. Its tentacles were whipping around its body, slamming at the heart of the wheel. Emma could feel the reverberations through her bones. She craned her neck to see what it was doing and went cold—the center of the ride was a massive bolt, holding the wheel onto its structural supports. The Teuthida was yanking at the bolt, trying to rip it free. If the demon succeeded in disengaging it, the whole structure would pull away from its moorings and roll off the pier, like a disconnected bicycle wheel. Emma had no illusions that anyone on the wheel, or near it, would survive. The wheel would crumple in on itself, crushing anyone underneath. Demons thrived on destruction, on the energy of death. It would feast. The Ferris wheel rocked. The Teuthida had its tentacles fastened firmly to the iron bolt at the wheel’s heart and was twisting it. Emma redoubled her crawling speed, but she was too far above the wheel’s middle. Julian was closer, but she knew the weapons he was carrying: two knives, which he’d already thrown, and seraph blades, which weren’t long enough for him to reach the demon. He looked up at her as he stretched his body out along the iron bar, wrapped his left arm around it to anchor himself, and held the other arm out, his hand outstretched. She knew, immediately, without having to wonder, what he was thinking. She breathed in deep and let go of the spoke. She fell, down toward Julian, stretching out her own hand to reach for his. They caught and clasped, and she heard him gasp as he took her weight. She swung forward and down, her left hand locked around his right, and with her other hand she whipped Cortana from its sheath. The weight of her fall carried her forward, swinging her toward the middle of the wheel. The Teuthida demon raised its head as she sailed toward it, and for the first time, she saw its eyes—they were oval, glossed with a protective mirrorlike coating. They almost seemed to widen like human eyes as she whipped Cortana forward, driving it down through the top of the demon’s head and into its brain. Its tentacles flailed—a last, dying spasm as its body pulled free of the blade and skittered, rolling along one of the downward-slanted spokes of the wheel. It reached the end and tumbled off. In the distance, Emma thought she heard a splash. But there was no time to wonder. Julian’s hand had tightened on hers, and he was pulling her up. She slammed Cortana back into its sheath as he hauled her up, up, onto the spoke where he was lying so that she collapsed awkwardly, half on top of him. He was still clasping her hand, breathing hard. His eyes met hers, just for a second. Around them, the wheel spun, lowering them back down toward the ground. Emma could see crowds of mundanes on the beach, the shimmer of water along the shoreline, even a dark head and a light one that could be Mark and Cristina . . . . “Good teamwork,” Julian said finally. “I know,” Emma said, and she did. That was the worst thing: that he was right, that they still worked so perfectly together as parabatai. As warrior partners. As a matched pair of soldiers who could never, ever be parted. *   *   * Mark and Cristina were waiting for them under the pier. Mark had kicked off his shoes and was partway into the ocean water. Cristina was folding away her butterfly knife. At her feet was a patch of slimy, drying sand. “Did you see the squid thingie fall off the Ferris wheel?” Emma asked as she and Julian drew near. Cristina nodded. “It fell into the shallows. It wasn’t quite dead, so Mark dragged it up onto the beach and we finished it off.” She kicked at the sand in front of her. “It was very disgusting, and Mark got slime on him.” “I’ve got ichor on me,” Emma said, looking down at her stained gear. “That was one messy demon.” “You are still very beautiful,” Mark said with a gallant smile. Emma smiled back at him, as much as she could. She was unbelievably grateful to Mark, who was playing his part in all this without a word of complaint, though he must have found it strange. In Cristina’s opinion, Mark was getting something out of the pretense, but Emma couldn’t imagine what. It wasn’t as if Mark liked lying—he’d spent so many years among faeries, who were incapable of untruths, that he found it unnatural. Julian had stepped away from them and was on the phone again, speaking in a low voice. Mark splashed up out of the water and jammed his wet feet into his boots. Neither he nor Cristina was fully glamoured, and Emma noticed the stares of mundane passersby as he came toward her—because he was tall, and beautiful, and because he had eyes that shone brighter than the lights of the Ferris wheel. And because one of his eyes was blue, and the other one was gold. And because there was something about him, something indefinably strange, a trace of the wildness of Faerie that never failed to make Emma think of untrammeled, wide-open spaces, of freedom and lawlessness. I am a lost boy, his eyes seemed to say. Find me. Reaching Emma, he lifted his hand to push back a lock of her hair. A wave of feeling went through her—sadness and exhilaration, a longing for something, though she didn’t know what. “That was Diana,” Julian said, and even without looking at him, Emma could picture his face as he spoke—gravity, thoughtfulness, a careful consideration of whatever the situation was. “Jace and Clary have arrived with a message from the Consul. They’re holding a meeting at the Institute, and they want us there now.”

2017
in Movies, music & books
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InPoTo Pet Shedding Tool and Grooming Brush for Dogs and Cats with Quick Release Button & 4-Inch Stainless Steel Safety Blade If you are looking for a sure fire way to reduce shedding by up to 90%, without damaging the topcoat, whilst promoting healthier
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2017
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Theft by Finding: Diaries (1977-2002) PRAISE FOR THEFT BY FINDING: "The thrill of Sedaris's nonfiction lies in the absurd details of his memories, burnished
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$20.77 USD
Theft by Finding: Diaries (1977-2002) by David Sedaris

PRAISE FOR THEFT BY FINDING: "The thrill of Sedaris's nonfiction lies in the absurd details of his memories, burnished with enough polish and comic timing to wonder how true they are (after you've stopped laughing). Now we'll finally have access to the raw material -- fragments of the writer's personal diaries that you might recognize from the banter in his prolific and hilarious live readings." ―Boris Kachka, New York "Starve and Struggle. Feast. Bloat. These are the three stages that all artists - with some variation - go through in their careers...So it's encouraging to read 25 years of David Sedaris's diaries, and not just because he manages to defeat Bloat. It's helpful to see that a voice as original, hilarious and sometimes as infuriating as his was put through the same Struggle and Starve meat grinder that most of us go through...No one escapes Bloat, but many survive it. Maybe not with the grace, whining, hilarity and eye-rolling that Sedaris does. But through all 25 years of "Theft by Finding" - of soap opera addictions and spider feeding, family kookiness (Sedaris notes the day Charles Addams dies; it feels like the passing of a baton) and language lessons - Sedaris's developing voice is the lifeline that pulls him through the murk." ―Patton Oswalt, New York Times Book Review "It's an astounding feat to stay funny-wildly, wickedly, ingeniously so-for more than 20 years. Yet David Sedaris has somehow pulled it off...with eviscerating wit and radiant humanity...Fans will no doubt delight in the entries that will turn into Sedaris's most beloved essays." ―Fiona Maazel, O, The Oprah Magazine "Sedaris fans will thrill to this opportunity to poke around in the writer's personal diaries, which he has faithfully kept for four decades and used as raw material for his hilarious nonfiction as well as his performances." ―Paul S. Makishima, Boston Globe "A master of incisive and comic cultural criticism....Theft by Finding reveals intimate details of this literary luminary's life and mind-all told with his singular sense of humor." ―Harper's Bazaar "Sedaris' diaries are the wellspring for his cuttingly funny autobiographical essays, and he now presents a mesmerizing volume of deftly edited passages...Sedaris is caustically witty about his bad habits and artistic floundering...A candid, socially incisive, and sharply amusing chronicle of the evolution of an arresting comedic artist." ―Donna Seaman, Booklist (starred review) "Raw glimpses of the humorist's personal life as he clambered from starving artist to household name... though the mood is usually light, the book is also a more serious look into his travails as an artist and person... A surprisingly poignant portrait of the artist as a young to middle-aged man." ―Kirkus (starred review) "For those curious about the mind of a comic genius, this is a great place to start." ―Melissa Kravitz, amNewYork "This is Sedaris, who can be wickedly funny as well as deliciously insightful about modern mores - so the nuggets are big and shiny and well worth panning for. An otherwise ho-hum entry can be punctuated by a literary sucker punch."―David Holahan, USA Today "A David Sedaris book is always a welcome addition to any personal library - his hilarity, his self-deprecation, his compassion for (and amusement with) the human condition, and his clear joy at making his readers laugh out loud are all what make a David Sedaris book great."―E. Ce Miller, Bustle "Scintillating... Sedaris is a latter-day Charlie Chaplin: droll, put-upon but not innocent, and besieged by all sorts of obstreperous or menacing folks... Sedaris's storytelling, even in diary jottings, is so consistently well-crafted and hilarious that few will care whether it's embroidered."―Publishers Weekly (Starred Review) "As brilliant and hilarious as anything Sedaris has previously published." ―Zack Ruskin, SF Weekly "Wildly entertaining....This book is flat-out memerizing." ―Laurie Hertzel, Minneapolis Star-Tribune "Peak Sedaris....a real journey, and catnip for his most loyal fans." ―Jinnie Lee and Maura M. Lynch, WMagazine.com "Filled with rich and unfailingly sharp observations...There are moments of sadness...but this is not a sad book; instead, it's a gloriously weird one...This is a diary that shows us how Sedaris' powers of observation and his intense investment in his own perspective have enriched his life and, by extension, ours."―Kelly Blewett, BookPage "Sedaris' personal essays are put together so carefully that none of the seams show; they often ingeniously build to a sneak attack of wisdom or poignancy in the final lines... David Sedaris may be living a charmed life, [but] whether or not you believe in good luck charms, I recommend you buy the book and get the details immediately." ―Marion Winik, Newsday "If you've had the good fortune of seeing Sedaris on tour, you've probably heard him read from one of his snarky and hilariously solipsistic diary entries. Finally, they're collected in one place for the first time." ―Entertainment Weekly "The essays have naturally stirred curiosity about the diary itself. With his new book, Theft by Finding: Diaries 1977-2002, Sedaris satisfies that curiosity." ―Michael Upchurch, Boston Globe "Sedaris' gift is to make you stop and think one moment and laugh out loud the next."―Associated Press "The Sedaris diaries are laced with snark, wit and trenchant observations, personal and public..."―Jim Higgins, Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel "Diary entries shouldn't be this good, but considering Sedaris' output, it's not surprising that this collection is a worthy addition to his name."―Caitlin PenzeyMoog, A.V. Club About the Author David Sedaris is the author of the books Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls, Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, When You Are Engulfed in Flames, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Holidays on Ice, Naked, and Barrel Fever. He is a regular contributor to The New Yorker and BBC Radio 4. He lives in England.

2017
in Movies, music & books
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Shower Head - Rainfall High Pressure 6” - Rain High Flow Fixed Luxury Chrome Showerhead - Removable Water Restrictor - Adjustable Metal Swivel Ball Joint - For the Best Relaxation and Spa RELAX AT HOME LIKE IN A LUXURY SPA CENTER SomovWorld Rain 6'' Shower Head stands out with high quality construction,
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RELAX AT HOME LIKE IN A LUXURY SPA CENTER SomovWorld Rain 6'' Shower Head stands out with high quality construction, anti-clog and anti-leak design, modern looking and contemporary style. You will enjoy solid performance and low maintenance for many years.  WHAT MAKES SOMOVWORLD H-RSH6910 LUXURY RAIN SHOWER HEAD SO GOOD   Large 6” surface for full body coverage Removable water restrictor - so you can enjoy the maximum water flow Chrome plated, AASS 24h, 9 grade – shiny look and beautiful design to contribute to the great look of your bathroom Swivel brass ball joint helps you adjust the direction of the water spray for maximum comfort High quality ABS material makes it lightweight and durable same time USA QUALITY STANDARD SomovWorld H-RSH6910 Luxury Rainfall Shower Head is a durable long lasting showerhead. This is a universal product that will fulfill the needs of the whole family. It provides fantastic water flow to ensure your pleasant experience. Both elegant and powerful, it will satisfy you with its excellent performance at high or low water pressure.3 REASONS YOU WILL LOVE SOMOVWORLD H-RSH6910 RAIN SHOWER HEAD UNRESTRICTED WATER FLOW Removable water restrictor which you can pull out in a minute to increase the water flow. Superior rain spray for the ultimate shower experience.SELF-CLEANING NOZZLES 90 powered anti-clogging silicone jets prevent lime and hard water deposits. Very easy maintenance and long life.EASY TOOL-FREE INSTALLATION Quickly connects to any standard shower arm. No tools required. You receive a roll of teflon tape as one of the bonuses to your product. Everything you need is in the package.

2017
in Home improvement & tools
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FIBO STEEL 3 Pcs 2MM Stainless Steel Rope Chain Necklace for Men Women Link Necklace,16-30 inches FIBO STEEL - I never wanted to be your whole life. Just your favorite part. FIBO STEEL main engage in selling all kinds of high
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FIBO STEEL - I never wanted to be your whole life. Just your favorite part. FIBO STEEL main engage in selling all kinds of high quality stainless steel jewelry at affordable price. Best shopping experience is our main goal that we try our best to arrive all the time. Fibo Steel - Do what we say, say what we do In order to let you have a happy shopping experience,we have done and will do as follows; 1.Products we sell are all in new condition and finished rigid inspection. 2.If you have any questions,just contact us,we will do our best to help you. 3.If you received the goods and are not satisfied our products,we promise 90-day guarantee. About Stainless Steel Jewelry Environmental protecting Stainless Steel has increasingly grown as a popular metal choice for jewelry.It's safe material,so there no need to worry weather it will do harm to your health.Shiny appearance and good glossiness,it also can keep its original color at the room temperature and keep the shape in the long term. Caring For Stainless Steel Jewelry High quality stainless steel has high resistance to rust, corrosion and tarnishing, which requires minimal maintenance. But there are still some warm tips for you. Avoid friction and hard objects to avoid scratches. Do not wear jewelry during exercise, bathing and swimming. When not wearing jewelry, you should wipe clean, put jewelry box to save.

2017
in Clothing & accessories
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Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices) About the Author Cassandra Clare is the #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of Lord of Shadows and Lady
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$17.37 USD
Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices) by Cassandra Clare

About the Author Cassandra Clare is the #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of Lord of Shadows and Lady Midnight, as well as the internationally bestselling Mortal Instruments series and Infernal Devices trilogy. She is the coauthor of The Bane Chronicles with Sarah Rees Brennan and Maureen Johnson and Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy with Sarah Rees Brennan, Maureen Johnson, and Robin Wasserman, as well as The Shadowhunter’s Codex, which she cowrote with her husband, Joshua Lewis. Her books have more than 50 million copies in print worldwide and have been translated into more than thirty-five languages, a feature film, and a TV show, Shadowhunters, currently airing on Freeform. Cassandra lives in western Massachusetts. Visit her at CassandraClare.com. Learn more about the world of the Shadowhunters at Shadowhunters.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Lord of Shadows 1 STILL WATERS Kit had only recently found out what a flail was, and now there was a rack of them hanging over his head, shiny and sharp and deadly. He had never seen anything like the weapons room at the Los Angeles Institute before. The walls and floors were white-silver granite, and granite islands rose at intervals throughout the room, making the whole place look like the arms and armor exhibit at a museum. There were staves and maces, cleverly designed walking sticks, necklaces, boots and padded jackets that concealed slim, flat blades for stabbing and throwing. Morning stars covered in terrible spikes, and crossbows of all sizes and types. The granite islands themselves were covered with stacks of gleaming instruments carved out of adamas, the quartz-like substance that Shadowhunters mined from the earth and that they alone knew how to turn into swords and blades and steles. Of more interest to Kit was the shelf that held daggers. It wasn’t that he had any particular desire to learn how to use a dagger—nothing beyond the general interest he figured most teenagers had in deadly weapons, but even then, he’d rather be issued a machine gun or a flamethrower. But the daggers were works of art, their hilts inlaid with gold and silver and precious gems—blue sapphires, cabochon rubies, glimmering patterns of thorns etched in platinum and black diamonds. He could think of at least three people at the Shadow Market who’d buy them off him for good money, no questions asked. Maybe four. Kit stripped off the denim jacket he was wearing—he didn’t know which of the Blackthorns it had belonged to originally; he’d woken up the morning after he’d come to the Institute to find a freshly laundered pile of clothes at the foot of his bed—and shrugged on a padded jacket. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror at the far end of the room. Ragged blond hair, the last of fading bruises on his pale skin. He unzipped the inside pocket of the jacket and began to stuff it with sheathed daggers, picking the ones with the fanciest hilts. The door to the weapons room swung open. Kit dropped the dagger he was holding back onto the shelf and turned around hastily. He thought he’d slipped out of his bedroom without being noticed, but if there was one thing he’d come to realize during his short time at the Institute, it was that Julian Blackthorn noticed everything, and his siblings weren’t far behind. But it wasn’t Julian. It was a young man Kit hadn’t ever seen before, though something about him was familiar. He was tall, with tousled blond hair and a Shadowhunter’s build—broad shoulders, muscular arms, the black lines of the runic Marks they protected themselves with peeking out from the collar and cuffs of his shirt. His eyes were an unusual dark gold color. He wore a heavy silver ring on one finger, as many of the Shadowhunters did. He raised an eyebrow at Kit. “Like weapons, do you?” he said. “They’re all right.” Kit backed up a little toward one of the tables, hoping the daggers in his inside pocket didn’t rattle. The man went over to the shelf Kit had been rifling through and picked up the dagger he’d dropped. “You picked a good one here,” he said. “See the inscription on the handle?” Kit didn’t. “It was made by one of the descendants of Wayland the Smith, who made Durendal and Cortana.” The man spun the dagger between his fingers before setting it back on its shelf. “Nothing as extraordinary as Cortana, but daggers like that will always return to your hand after you throw them. Convenient.” Kit cleared his throat. “It must be worth a lot,” he said. “I doubt the Blackthorns are looking to sell,” said the man dryly. “I’m Jace, by the way. Jace Herondale.” He paused. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, which Kit was determined not to give him. He knew the name Herondale, all right. It felt like it was the only word anyone had said to him in the past two weeks. But that didn’t mean he wanted to give the man—Jace—the satisfaction he was clearly looking for. Jace looked unmoved by Kit’s silence. “And you’re Christopher Herondale.” “How do you know that?” Kit said, keeping his voice flat and unenthusiastic. He hated the name Herondale. He hated the word. “Family resemblance,” said Jace. “We look alike. In fact, you look like drawings of a lot of Herondales I’ve seen.” He paused. “Also, Emma sent me a cell phone picture of you.” Emma. Emma Carstairs had saved Kit’s life. They hadn’t spoken much since, though—in the wake of the death of Malcolm Fade, the High Warlock of Los Angeles, everything had been in chaos. He hadn’t been anyone’s first priority, and besides, he had a feeling she thought of him as a little kid. “Fine. I’m Kit Herondale. People keep telling me that, but it doesn’t mean anything to me.” Kit set his jaw. “I’m a Rook. Kit Rook.” “I know what your father told you. But you’re a Herondale. And that does mean something.” “What? What does it mean?” Kit demanded. Jace leaned back against the wall of the weapons room, just under a display of heavy claymores. Kit hoped one would fall on his head. “I know you’re aware of Shadowhunters,” he said. “A lot of people are, especially Downworlders and mundanes with the Sight. Which is what you thought you were, correct?” “I never thought I was a mundane,” said Kit. Didn’t Shadowhunters understand how it sounded when they used that word? Jace ignored him, though. “Shadowhunter society and history—those aren’t things most people who aren’t Nephilim know about. The Shadowhunter world is made up of families, each of which has a name that they cherish. Each family has a history we pass on to each successive generation. We bear the glories and the burdens of our names, the good and the bad our ancestors have done, through all our lives. We try to live up to our names, so that those who come after us will bear lighter burdens.” He crossed his arms over his chest. His wrists were covered in Marks; there was one that looked like an open eye on the back of his left hand. Kit had noticed all Shadowhunters seemed to have that one. “Among Shadowhunters, your last name is deeply meaningful. The Herondales have been a family who have shaped the destinies of Shadowhunters for generations. There aren’t many of us left—in fact, everyone thought I was the last. Only Jem and Tessa had faith you existed. They looked for you for a long time.” Jem and Tessa. Along with Emma, they had helped Kit escape the demons who had murdered his father. And they had told him a story: the story of a Herondale who had betrayed his friends and fled, starting a new life away from other Nephilim. A new life and a new family line. “I heard about Tobias Herondale,” he said. “So I’m the descendant of a big coward.” “People are flawed,” said Jace. “Not every member of your family is going to be awesome. But when you see Tessa again, and you will, she can tell you about Will Herondale. And James Herondale. And me, of course,” he added, modestly. “As far as Shadowhunters go, I’m a pretty big deal. Not to intimidate you.” “I don’t feel intimidated,” said Kit, wondering if this guy was for real. There was a gleam in Jace’s eye as he spoke that indicated that he might not take what he was saying all that seriously, but it was hard to be sure. “I feel like I want to be left alone.” “I know it’s a lot to digest,” Jace said. He reached out to clap Kit on the back. “But Clary and I will be here for as long as you need us to—” The clap on the back dislodged one of the daggers in Kit’s pocket. It clattered to the ground between them, winking up from the granite floor like an accusing eye. “Right,” Jace said into the ensuing silence. “So you’re stealing weapons.” Kit, who knew the pointlessness of an obvious denial, said nothing. “Okay, look, I know your dad was a crook, but you’re a Shadowhunter now and—wait, what else is in that jacket?” Jace demanded. He did something complicated with his left boot that kicked the dagger up into the air. He caught it neatly, the rubies in the hilt scattering light. “Take it off.” Silently, Kit shucked off his jacket and threw it down on the table. Jace flipped it over and opened the inside pocket. They both gazed silently at the gleam of blades and precious stones. “So,” Jace said. “You were planning on running away, I take it?” “Why should I stay?” Kit exploded. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it—it was too much: the loss of his father, his hatred of the Institute, the smugness of the Nephilim, their demands that he accept a last name he didn’t care about and didn’t want to care about. “I don’t belong here. You can tell me all this stuff about my name, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m Johnny Rook’s son. I’ve been training my whole life to be like my dad, not to be like you. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you. All I need is some start-up money, and I can set up my own booth at the Shadow Market.” Jace’s gold eyes narrowed, and for the first time Kit saw, under the arrogant, joking facade, the gleam of a sharp intelligence. “And sell what? Your dad sold information. It took him years, and a lot of bad magic, to build up those connections. You want to sell your soul like that, so you can scratch out a living on the edges of Downworld? And what about what killed your dad? You saw him die, didn’t you?” “Demons—” “Yeah, but somebody sent them. The Guardian might be dead, but that doesn’t mean no one’s looking for you. You’re fifteen years old. You might think you want to die, but trust me—you don’t.” Kit swallowed. He tried to picture himself standing behind the counter of a booth at the Shadow Market, the way he had for the past few days. But the truth was he’d always been safe at the Market because of his dad. Because people were afraid of Johnny Rook. What would happen to him there without his dad’s protection? “But I’m not a Shadowhunter,” Kit said. He glanced around the room, at the millions of weapons, the piles of adamas, the gear and body armor and weapon belts. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t a ninja. “I wouldn’t even know how to start to be one.” “Give it another week,” Jace said. “Another week here at the Institute. Give yourself a chance. Emma told me how you fought off those demons who killed your dad. Only a Shadowhunter could have done that.” Kit barely remembered battling the demons in his father’s house, but he knew he’d done it. His body had taken over, and he’d fought, and he’d even, in a small, strange, hidden way, enjoyed it. “This is what you are,” said Jace. “You’re a Shadowhunter. You’re part angel. You have the blood of angels in your veins. You’re a Herondale. Which, by the way, means that not only are you part of a stunningly good-looking family, but you’re also part of a family that owns a lot of valuable property, including a London town house and a manor in Idris, which you’re probably entitled to part of. You know, if you were interested.” Kit looked at the ring on Jace’s left hand. It was silver, heavy, and looked old. And valuable. “I’m listening.” “All I am saying is give it a week. After all”—Jace grinned—“Herondales can’t resist a challenge.” *   *   * “A Teuthida demon?” Julian said into the phone, his eyebrows crinkling. “That’s basically a squid, right?” The reply was inaudible: Emma could recognize Ty’s voice, but not the words. “Yeah, we’re at the pier,” Julian went on. “We haven’t seen anything yet, but we just arrived. Too bad they don’t have designated parking spots for Shadowhunters here . . . .” Her mind only half on Julian’s voice, Emma glanced around. The sun had just gone down. She’d always loved the Santa Monica Pier, since she was a little girl and her parents had taken her there to play air hockey and ride the old-fashioned merry-go-round. She loved the junk food—burgers and milk shakes, fried clams and giant swirled lollipops—and Pacific Park, the run-down amusement park at the very end of the pier, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The mundanes had poured millions of dollars into revamping the pier into a tourist attraction over the years. Pacific Park was full of new, shiny rides; the old churro carts were gone, replaced by artisanal ice cream and lobster platters. But the boards under Emma’s feet were still warped and weathered by years of sun and salt. The air still smelled like sugar and seaweed. The merry-go-round still spilled its mechanical music into the air. There were still coin-toss games where you could win a giant stuffed panda. And there were still dark spaces under the pier, where aimless mundanes gathered and sometimes, more sinister things. That was the thing about being a Shadowhunter, Emma thought, glancing toward the massive Ferris wheel decorated with gleaming LED lights. A line of mundanes eager to get on stretched down the pier; past the railings, she could glimpse the dark blue sea tipped with white where the waves broke. Shadowhunters saw the beauty in the things mundanes created—the lights of the Ferris wheel reflecting off the ocean so brightly that it looked as if someone were setting off fireworks underwater: red, blue, green, purple, and gold—but they saw the darkness, too, the danger and the rot. “What’s wrong?” Julian asked. He’d slid his phone into the pocket of his gear jacket. The wind—there was always wind on the pier, the wind that blew ceaselessly off the ocean, smelling of salt and faraway places—lifted the soft waves of his brown hair, made them kiss his cheeks and temples. Dark thoughts, Emma wanted to say. She couldn’t, though. Once Julian had been the person she could tell everything. Now he was the one person she couldn’t tell anything. Instead she avoided his gaze. “Where are Mark and Cristina?” “Over there.” He pointed. “By the ring toss.” Emma followed his gaze to the brightly painted stand where people competed to see who could toss a plastic ring and land it around the neck of one of a dozen lined-up bottles. She tried not to feel superior that this was apparently something mundanes found difficult. Julian’s half brother, Mark, held three plastic rings in his hand. Cristina, her dark hair caught up in a neat bun, stood beside him, eating caramel corn and laughing. Mark threw the rings: all three at once. Each spiraled out in a different direction and landed around the neck of a bottle. Julian sighed. “So much for being inconspicuous.” A mixture of cheers and noises of disbelief went up from the mundanes at the ring toss. Fortunately, there weren’t many of them, and Mark was able to collect his prize—something in a plastic bag—and escape with a minimum of fuss. He headed back toward them with Cristina at his side. The tips of his pointed ears peeked through the loops of his light hair, but he was glamoured so that mundanes wouldn’t see them. Mark was half-faerie, and his Downworlder blood showed itself in the delicacy of his features, the tips of his ears, and the angularity of his eyes and cheekbones. “So it’s a squid demon?” Emma said, mostly just to have something to say to fill the silence between her and Julian. There were a lot of silences between her and Julian these days. It had only been two weeks since everything had changed, but she felt the difference profoundly, in her bones. She felt his distance, though he had never been anything but scrupulously polite and kind ever since she had told him about her and Mark. “Apparently,” Julian said. Mark and Cristina had come into earshot; Cristina was finishing her caramel corn and looking sadly into the bag as if hoping more would appear. Emma could relate. Mark, meanwhile, was gazing down at his prize. “It climbs up the side of the pier and snatches people—mostly kids, anyone leaning over the side taking a picture at night. It’s been getting braver, though. Apparently someone spotted it inside the game area near the table hockey—is that a goldfish?” Mark held up his plastic bag. Inside it, a small orange fish swam around in a circle. “This is the best patrol we’ve ever done,” he said. “I have never been awarded a fish before.” Emma sighed inwardly. Mark had spent the past few years of his life with the Wild Hunt, the most anarchic and feral of all faeries. They rode across the sky on all manner of enchanted beings—motorcycles, horses, deer, massive snarling dogs—and scavenged battlefields, taking valuables from the bodies of the dead and giving them in tribute to the Faerie Courts. He was adjusting well to being back among his Shadowhunter family, but there were still times when ordinary life seemed to take him by surprise. He noticed now that everyone was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He looked alarmed and placed a tentative arm around Emma’s shoulders, holding out the bag in the other hand. “I have won for you a fish, my fair one,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. It was a sweet kiss, gentle and soft, and Mark smelled like he always did: like cold outside air and green growing things. And it made absolute sense, Emma thought, for Mark to assume that everyone was startled because they were waiting for him to give her his prize. She was, after all, his girlfriend. She exchanged a worried glance with Cristina, whose dark eyes had gotten very large. Julian looked as if he were about to throw up blood. It was only a brief look before he schooled his features back into indifference, but Emma drew away from Mark, smiling at him apologetically. “I couldn’t keep a fish alive,” she said. “I kill plants just by looking at them.” “I suspect I would have the same problem,” Mark said, eyeing the fish. “It is too bad—I was going to name it Magnus, because it has sparkly scales.” At that, Cristina giggled. Magnus Bane was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and he had a penchant for glitter. “I suppose I had better let him go free,” Mark said. Before anyone could say anything, he made his way to the railing of the pier and emptied the bag, fish and all, into the sea. “Does anyone want to tell him that goldfish are freshwater fish and can’t survive in the ocean?” said Julian quietly. “Not really,” said Cristina. “Did he just kill Magnus?” Emma asked, but before Julian could answer, Mark whirled around. All humor had gone from his expression. “I just saw something scuttle up one of the pilings below the pier. Something very much not human.” Emma felt a faint shiver pass over her skin. The demons who made the ocean their habitation were rarely seen on land. Sometimes she had nightmares where the ocean turned itself inside out and vomited its contents onto the beach: spiny, tentacled, slimy, blackened things half-crushed by the weight of water. Within seconds, each of the Shadowhunters had a weapon in hand—Emma was clutching her sword, Cortana, a golden blade given to her by her parents. Julian held a seraph blade, and Cristina her butterfly knife. “Which way did it go?” Julian asked. “Toward the end of the pier,” said Mark; he alone had not reached for a weapon, but Emma knew how fast he was. His nickname in the Wild Hunt had been elf-shot, for he was swift and accurate with a bow and arrow or a thrown blade. “Toward the amusement park.” “I’ll go that way,” Emma said. “Try to drive it off the edge of the pier—Mark, Cristina, you go down under, catch it if it tries to crawl back into the water.” They barely had time to nod, and Emma was off and running. The wind tugged at her braided hair as she wove through the crowd toward the lighted park at the pier’s end. Cortana felt warm and solid in her hand, and her feet flew over the sea-warped wooden slats. She felt free, her worries cast aside, everything in her mind and body focused on the task at hand. She could hear footsteps beside her. She didn’t need to look to know it was Jules. His footsteps had been beside hers for all the years she had been a fighting Shadowhunter. His blood had been spilled when hers was. He had saved her life and she had saved his. He was part of her warrior self. “There,” she heard him say, but she’d already seen it: a dark, humped shape clambering up the support structure of the Ferris wheel. The carriages continued to rotate around it, the passengers shrieking in delight, unaware. Emma hit the line for the wheel and started shoving her way through it. She and Julian had put glamour runes on before they’d gotten to the pier, and they were invisible to mundane eyes. That didn’t mean they couldn’t make their presence felt, though. Mundanes in line swore and yelled as she stomped on feet and elbowed her way to the front. A carriage was just swinging down, a couple—a girl eating purple cotton candy and her black-clad, lanky boyfriend—about to climb in. Glancing up, Emma saw a flicker as the Teuthida demon slithered around the top of the wheel support. Swearing, Emma pushed past the couple, nearly knocking them aside, and leaped into the carriage. It was octagonal, a bench running around the inside, with plenty of room to stand. She heard yells of surprise as the carriage rose, lifting her away from the scene of chaos she’d created below, the couple who’d been about to board the wheel yelling at the ticket taker, and the people in line behind them yelling at each other. The carriage rocked under her feet as Julian landed beside her, setting it to swinging. He craned his head up. “Do you see it?” Emma squinted. She had seen the demon, she was sure of that, but it seemed to have vanished. From this angle, the Ferris wheel was a mess of bright lights, spinning spokes, and white-painted iron bars. The two carriages below her and Julian were empty of people; the line must still be sorting itself out. Good, Emma thought. The fewer people who got on the wheel, the better. “Stop.” She felt Julian’s hand on her arm, turning her around. Her whole body tensed. “Runes,” he said shortly, and she realized he was holding his stele in his free hand. Their carriage was still rising. Emma could see the beach below, the dark water spilling up onto the sand, the hills of Palisades Park rising vertically above the highway, crowned with a fringe of trees and greenery. The stars were dim but visible beyond the bright lights of the pier. Julian held her arm neither roughly nor gently, but with a sort of clinical distance. He turned it over, his stele describing quick motions over her wrist, inking runes of protection there, runes of speed and agility and enhanced hearing. This was the closest Emma had been to Jules in two weeks. She felt dizzy from it, a little drunk. His head was bent, his eyes fixed on the task at hand, and she took the opportunity to absorb the sight of him. The lights of the wheel had turned amber and yellow; they powdered his tanned skin with gold. His hair fell in loose, fine waves over his forehead. She knew the way the skin by the corners of his mouth was soft, and the way his shoulders felt under her hands, strong and hard and vibrant. His lashes were long and thick, so dark that they seemed to have been charcoaled; she half expected them to leave a dusting of black powder on the tops of his cheekbones when he blinked. He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful, but she had noticed it too late. And now she stood with her hands at her sides and her body aching because she couldn’t touch him. She could never touch him again. He finished what he was doing and spun the stele around so the handle was toward her. She took it without a word as he pulled aside the collar of his shirt, under his gear jacket. The skin there was a shade paler than the tanned skin on his face and hands, scored over and over with the faint white Marks of runes that had been used up and faded away. She had to move a step nearer to Mark him. The runes bloomed under the tip of the stele: agility, night vision. Her head reached just to the level of his chin. She was staring directly at his throat, and saw him swallow. “Just tell me,” he said. “Just tell me that he makes you happy. That Mark makes you happy.” She jerked her head up. She had finished the runes; he reached to take the stele from her motionless hand. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was looking directly at her, his eyes turned dark blue by the colors of the night sky and the sea, spreading out all around them as they neared the top of the wheel. “I’m happy, Jules,” she said. What was one lie among so many others? She had never been someone who lied easily, but she was finding her way. When the safety of people she loved depended on it, she’d found, she could lie. “This is—this is smarter, safer for both of us.” The line of his gentle mouth hardened. “That’s not—” She gasped. A writhing shape rose up behind him—it was the color of an oil slick, its fringed tentacles clinging to a spoke of the wheel. Its mouth was wide open, a perfect circle ringed with teeth. “Jules!” she shouted, and flung herself from the carriage, catching onto one of the thin iron bars that ran between the spokes. Dangling by one hand, she slashed out with Cortana, catching the Teuthida as it reared back. It yowled, and ichor sprayed; Emma cried out as it splashed her neck, burning her skin. A knife punched into the demon’s round, ribbed body. Pulling herself up onto a spoke, Emma glanced down to see Julian poised on the edge of the carriage, another knife already in hand. He sighted down along his arm, let the second knife fly— It clanged off the bottom of an empty carriage. The Teuthida, incredibly fast, had whipped its way out of sight. Emma could hear it scrabbling downward, along the tangle of metal bars that made up the inside of the wheel. Emma sheathed Cortana and began to crawl along the length of her spoke, heading toward the bottom of the wheel. LED lights exploded around her in purple and gold. There was ichor and blood on her hands, making the descent slippery. Incongruously, the view from the wheel was beautiful, the sea and the sand opening in front of her in all directions, as if she were dangling off the edge of the world. She could taste blood in her mouth, and salt. Below her, she could see Julian, out of the carriage, clambering along a lower spoke. He glanced up at her and pointed; she followed the line of his hand and saw the Teuthida nearly at the wheel’s center. Its tentacles were whipping around its body, slamming at the heart of the wheel. Emma could feel the reverberations through her bones. She craned her neck to see what it was doing and went cold—the center of the ride was a massive bolt, holding the wheel onto its structural supports. The Teuthida was yanking at the bolt, trying to rip it free. If the demon succeeded in disengaging it, the whole structure would pull away from its moorings and roll off the pier, like a disconnected bicycle wheel. Emma had no illusions that anyone on the wheel, or near it, would survive. The wheel would crumple in on itself, crushing anyone underneath. Demons thrived on destruction, on the energy of death. It would feast. The Ferris wheel rocked. The Teuthida had its tentacles fastened firmly to the iron bolt at the wheel’s heart and was twisting it. Emma redoubled her crawling speed, but she was too far above the wheel’s middle. Julian was closer, but she knew the weapons he was carrying: two knives, which he’d already thrown, and seraph blades, which weren’t long enough for him to reach the demon. He looked up at her as he stretched his body out along the iron bar, wrapped his left arm around it to anchor himself, and held the other arm out, his hand outstretched. She knew, immediately, without having to wonder, what he was thinking. She breathed in deep and let go of the spoke. She fell, down toward Julian, stretching out her own hand to reach for his. They caught and clasped, and she heard him gasp as he took her weight. She swung forward and down, her left hand locked around his right, and with her other hand she whipped Cortana from its sheath. The weight of her fall carried her forward, swinging her toward the middle of the wheel. The Teuthida demon raised its head as she sailed toward it, and for the first time, she saw its eyes—they were oval, glossed with a protective mirrorlike coating. They almost seemed to widen like human eyes as she whipped Cortana forward, driving it down through the top of the demon’s head and into its brain. Its tentacles flailed—a last, dying spasm as its body pulled free of the blade and skittered, rolling along one of the downward-slanted spokes of the wheel. It reached the end and tumbled off. In the distance, Emma thought she heard a splash. But there was no time to wonder. Julian’s hand had tightened on hers, and he was pulling her up. She slammed Cortana back into its sheath as he hauled her up, up, onto the spoke where he was lying so that she collapsed awkwardly, half on top of him. He was still clasping her hand, breathing hard. His eyes met hers, just for a second. Around them, the wheel spun, lowering them back down toward the ground. Emma could see crowds of mundanes on the beach, the shimmer of water along the shoreline, even a dark head and a light one that could be Mark and Cristina . . . . “Good teamwork,” Julian said finally. “I know,” Emma said, and she did. That was the worst thing: that he was right, that they still worked so perfectly together as parabatai. As warrior partners. As a matched pair of soldiers who could never, ever be parted. *   *   * Mark and Cristina were waiting for them under the pier. Mark had kicked off his shoes and was partway into the ocean water. Cristina was folding away her butterfly knife. At her feet was a patch of slimy, drying sand. “Did you see the squid thingie fall off the Ferris wheel?” Emma asked as she and Julian drew near. Cristina nodded. “It fell into the shallows. It wasn’t quite dead, so Mark dragged it up onto the beach and we finished it off.” She kicked at the sand in front of her. “It was very disgusting, and Mark got slime on him.” “I’ve got ichor on me,” Emma said, looking down at her stained gear. “That was one messy demon.” “You are still very beautiful,” Mark said with a gallant smile. Emma smiled back at him, as much as she could. She was unbelievably grateful to Mark, who was playing his part in all this without a word of complaint, though he must have found it strange. In Cristina’s opinion, Mark was getting something out of the pretense, but Emma couldn’t imagine what. It wasn’t as if Mark liked lying—he’d spent so many years among faeries, who were incapable of untruths, that he found it unnatural. Julian had stepped away from them and was on the phone again, speaking in a low voice. Mark splashed up out of the water and jammed his wet feet into his boots. Neither he nor Cristina was fully glamoured, and Emma noticed the stares of mundane passersby as he came toward her—because he was tall, and beautiful, and because he had eyes that shone brighter than the lights of the Ferris wheel. And because one of his eyes was blue, and the other one was gold. And because there was something about him, something indefinably strange, a trace of the wildness of Faerie that never failed to make Emma think of untrammeled, wide-open spaces, of freedom and lawlessness. I am a lost boy, his eyes seemed to say. Find me. Reaching Emma, he lifted his hand to push back a lock of her hair. A wave of feeling went through her—sadness and exhilaration, a longing for something, though she didn’t know what. “That was Diana,” Julian said, and even without looking at him, Emma could picture his face as he spoke—gravity, thoughtfulness, a careful consideration of whatever the situation was. “Jace and Clary have arrived with a message from the Consul. They’re holding a meeting at the Institute, and they want us there now.”

2017
in Movies, music & books
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