The Mortal Instruments - Complete Collection Read Online Free PDF Page A

he said.
    “Could you not talk about me like I’m not here?” Clary said angrily. “And what do you mean, ‘tell me’? Tell me what?”
    Jocelyn expelled a sigh. “We’re going on vacation.”
    Luke’s expression went blank, like a canvas wiped clean of paint.
    Clary shook her head. “That’s what this is about? You’re going on vacation?” She sank back against the cushions. “I don’t get it. Why the big production?”
    “I don’t think you understand. I meant we’re all going on vacation. The three of us—you, me, and Luke. We’re going to the farmhouse.”
    “Oh.” Clary glanced at Luke, but he had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring out the window, his jaw pulled tight. She wondered what was upsetting him. He loved the old farmhouse in upstate New York—he’d bought and restored it himself ten years before, and he went there whenever he could. “For how long?”
    “For the rest of the summer,” said Jocelyn. “I brought the boxes in case you want to pack up any books, painting supplies—”
    “For the
rest of the summer
?” Clary sat upright with indignation. “I can’t do that, Mom. I have plans—simon and I were going to have a back-to-school party, and I’ve got a bunch of meetings with my art group, and ten more classes at Tisch—”
    “I’m sorry about Tisch. But the other things can be canceled. Simon will understand, and so will your art group.”
    Clary heard the implacability in her mother’s tone and realized she was serious. “But I paid for those art classes! I saved up all year! You promised.” She whirled, turning to Luke. “Tell her! Tell her it isn’t fair!”
    Luke didn’t look away from the window, though a muscle jumped in his cheek. “She’s your mother. It’s her decision to make.”
    “I don’t get it.” Clary turned back to her mother. “Why?”
    “I have to get away, Clary,” Jocelyn said, the corners of her mouth trembling. “I need the peace, the quiet, to paint. And money is tight right now—”
    “So sell some more of Dad’s stocks,” Clary said angrily. “That’s what you usually do, isn’t it?”
    Jocelyn recoiled. “That’s hardly fair.”
    “Look, go if you want to go. I don’t care. I’ll stay here without you. I can work; I can get a job at Starbucks or something. Simon said they’re always hiring. I’m old enough to take care of myself—”
    “No!” The sharpness in Jocelyn’s voice made Clary jump. “I’ll pay you back for the art classes, Clary. But you are coming with us. It isn’t optional. You’re too young to stay here on your own. Something could happen.”
    “Like what? What could happen?” Clary demanded.
    There was a crash. She turned in surprise to find that Luke had knocked over one of the framed pictures leaning against the wall. Looking distinctly upset, he set it back. When he straightened, his mouth was set in a grim line. “I’m leaving.”
    Jocelyn bit her lip. “Wait.” She hurried after him into the entryway, catching up just as he seized the doorknob. Twisting around on the sofa, Clary could just overhear her mother’s urgent whisper. “…Bane,” Jocelyn was saying. “I’ve been calling him and calling him for the past three weeks. His voice mail says he’s in Tanzania. What am I supposed to do?”
    “Jocelyn.” Luke shook his head. “You can’t keep going to him forever.”
    “But Clary—”
    “Isn’t Jonathan,” Luke hissed. “You’ve never been the same since it happened, but Clary
isn’t Jonathan.
”
    What does my father have to do with this?
Clary thought, bewildered.
    “I can’t just keep her at home, not let her go out. She won’t put up with it.”
    “Of course she won’t!” Luke sounded really angry. “She’s not a pet, she’s a teenager. Almost an adult.”
    “If we were out of the city …”
    “Talk to her, Jocelyn.” Luke’s voice was firm. “I mean it.” He reached for the doorknob.
    The door flew open. Jocelyn gave a little