Will’s perspective on the events of Clockwork Angel, page 285-292

 Cassandra Clare nous avait promis la scène Holy Water de Clockwork Angel du point de vue de Will et la voici !! source

 

Will Herondale was burning.

This was not the first time he had consumed vampire blood, and he knew the pattern of the sickness. First there was a feeling of giddiness and euphoria, as if one had drunk too much gin — the brief period of pleasant drunkenness before the morbs set in. Then pain, starting at the toes and fingertips, working its way up as if lines of gunpowder had been laid across his body and were burning their way toward his heart.

He had heard the pain was not so great for humans: that their blood, thinner and weaker than Shadowhunter blood, did not fight the demon disease as Nephilim blood did. He was vaguely aware when Sophie came in with the holy water, splashing him with the cool stuff as she set the buckets down and went out again. Sophie’s hatred of him was as reliable as fog in London; he could feel it coming off her whenever she got near him. The force of it lifted him up onto his elbows now. He pulled a bucket close to him and upended it over his head, opening his mouth to swallow what he could.

For a moment, it doused the fire burning through his veins entirely. The pain receded, except for the throbbing in his head. He lay back down carefully, crooking an arm over his face to block the dim illumination coming from the low windows. His fingers seemed to trail light as they moved. He heard’s Jem’s voice in his head, scolding him for risking himself. But the face he saw against his eyelids wasn’t Jem. 

She was looking at him. The very darkest voice of his conscience, the reminder that he could protect no one, and last of all himself. Looking the way he had the last time he had seen her; she never changed, which was how he knew she was a figment of his imagination.

“Cecily,” he whispered. “Cecy, for the love of God, let me be.

”

“Will?”  That startled him; she appeared to him often, but rarely spoke. She reached her hand out, and he would have reached for her, too, had not the clang and clatter of metal brought him out of his reverie. He cleared his throat.

“Back, are you, Sophie?” Will said. “I told you if you brought me another one of those infernal pails, I’d—”

“It’s not Sophie,” came the reply. “It’s me. Tessa.”

The hammering of his own pulse filled his ears. Cecily’s image faded and vanished against his eyelids. Tessa. Why had they sent her? Did Charlotte hate him as much as all that? Was this meant to be a sort of object lesson to her in the indignities and dangers of Downworld? When he opened his eyes he saw her standing in front of him, still in her velvet dress and gloves. Her dark curls were startling against her pale skin and her cheekbone was freckled, lightly, with blood, probably Nathaniel’s.

Your brother, he knew he should say. How is he? It must have been a shock to see him. There is nothing worse than seeing someone you love in danger.

But it had been years, and he had learned to swallow the words he wanted to say, transform them. Somehow they were talking about vampires, about the virus and how it was transmitted. She gave him the pail with a grimace — good, she should be disgusted by him — and he used it again to quench the fire, to still the burning in his veins and throat and chest.

“Does that help?” she asked, watching him with her clear gray eyes. “Pouring it over your head like that?”

Will imagined how he must look to her, sitting on the floor with a bucket over his head, and made a strangled noise, almost a laugh. Oh, the glamour of Shadowhunting! The warrior life he had dreamed of as a child! 

“The questions you ask . . .” he began. Someone else, someone not Tessa, might have perhaps apologized for asking but she only stood still, watching him like a curious bird. He did not think he had ever seen someone with eyes the color of hers before: it was the color of gray mist blowing in from the sea in Wales. 

You could not lie to someone with eyes that reminded you of your childhood.

“The blood makes me feverish, makes my skin burn,” he admitted. “I can’t get cool. But, yes, the water helps.”

“Will,” Tessa said. When he looked up again, she seemed to be haloed by light like an angel, though he knew it was the vampire blood blurring his vision. Suddenly she was moving toward him, gathering her skirts out of the way to sit by him on the floor. He wondered why she was doing that, and realized to his own horror that he had asked her to. He imagined the vampire disease in his body, breaking down his blood, weakening his will. He knew, intellectually, that he had drunk enough holy water to kill the disease before it could burrow into his bones, and that he could not put his lack of control down to the sickness. And yet — she was so close to him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“You never laugh,” she was saying. “You behave as if everything is funny to you, but you never laugh. Sometimes you smile when you think no one is paying attention.”

He wanted to close his eyes. Her words went through him like the clean slice of a seraph blade, lighting his nerves on fire. He’d had no idea she had observed him so closely, or so accurately. “You,” he replied. “You make me laugh. From the moment you hit me with that bottle. Not to mention the way that you always correct me. With that funny look on your face when you do it. And the way you shouted at Gabriel Lightwood. And even the way you talked back to de Quincey. You make me . . .”

His voice trailed off. He could feel the cold water trickling down his back, over his chest, against his heated skin. Tessa sat only inches from him, smelling of powder and perfume and perspiration. Her damp curls curled against her cheeks, and her eyes were wide on him, her pale pink lips slightly parted. She reached up to push back a lock of her hair, and, feeling like he was drowning, he reached out for her hand. “There’s still blood,” he said, inarticulately. “On your gloves.”

She began to draw away, but Will would not let her go; he was drowning, still, drowning, and he could not release her. He turned her small right hand over. He had the strongest desire to reach for her entirely, to pull her against him and fold her in his arms, to encompass her slim, strong body with his. He bent his head, glad she could not see his face as the blood rushed up into it. Her gloves were ragged, torn where she had clawed at her brother’s manacles. With a flick of his fingers, he opened the pearl buttons that kept her glove closed, baring her wrist.

He could hear himself breathing. Heat spread through his body — not the unnatural heat of vampire sickness, but the more ordinary flush of desire. The skin of her wrist was translucently pale, the blue veins visible beneath. He could see the flutter of her pulse, feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. He stroked the softness of her wrist with the tips of his fingers and half-closed his eyes, imagining his hands on her body, the smooth skin of her upper arms, the silkiness of the legs hidden beneath her voluminous skirts. “Tessa,” he said, as if she had the slightest idea the effect she was having on him. There were women who might have, but Tessa was not one of them. “What do you want from me?”

“I—I want to understand you,” she whispered. 

 

The thought was quite horrifying. “Is that really necessary?”

“I’m not sure anyone does understand you,” she breathed, “except possibly Jem.”

Jem. Jem had given up on understanding him long ago, Will thought. Jem was a study in how you could love someone entirely without understanding them at all. But most people were not Jem.

“But perhaps he only wants to know that there is a reason,” she was saying. Her gaze was fierce. Nothing stopped her arguing, he thought, or caring: in that way, she was like Jem: loss did not make her bitter, and betrayal did not beat down her faith. Unconsciously, she moved to draw her hand back, to gesture passionately, and he caught at it, slipping the glove off her hand. She gasped as if he had put his hands on her body, blood rising to stain her cheeks. Her bare, small hand, which curled like a dove inside his, went still. He lifted it to his mouth, his cheek, kissing her skin: brushing his lips across her knuckles, down to her wrist. He heard her cry out in a low voice, and lifted his head to see her sitting perfectly still, her hand held out, her eyes closed and her lips half-open.

He had kissed girls, other girls, when basic physical desire overcame common sense, in dark corners at parties or under the mistletoe. Quick, hurried kisses, most of them, although some surprisingly expert — where had Elspeth Mayburn learned how to do what she did with her teeth, and why had no one ever told her it wasn’t a good idea? — but this was different.

Before there had been controlled tension, a deliberate decision to give into what his body asked for, divorced from any other feeling. Cut free of any emotion at all. But this — this was heat flowering through his chest, shortening his breath, sending a tide of goosebumps over his skin. This was a feeling of pain when he let her hand go, a sickness of loss cured only when he pulled her toward him across the splintery wooden floor, his hands cupping the back of her neck as his lips descended on hers with equal parts tenderness and fierceness.

Her mouth opened under his, hesitant, and some corner of his mind cried out to him to slow his pace, that by any reasonable guess this was her first kiss. He forced his hands to slow down, to gently unclasp the fastenings in her hair and smooth the curls down over her shoulders and back, his fingertips tracing light patterns on her soft cheekbones, her bare shoulders. Her hair felt like warm silk running through his fingers and her body, pressed against his, was all softness. Her hands were light as feathers on the back of his neck, in his hair; when he drew her closer, she made a low sound against his mouth that nearly drove every last thought from his head. He began to bend her back toward the floor, moving his body over hers —

And froze. Panic rushed through his blood in a boiling flood as he saw the whole fragile structure he had built up around himself shatter, all because of this, this girl, who broke his control like nothing else ever had. He tore his mouth from her, pushing her away, the force of his terror nearly knocking her over. She stared at him through the tangled curtain of her hair, her face pale with shock.

“God in Heaven,” he whispered. “What was that?”

Her bewilderment was plain on her face. His heart contracted, pumping self-loathing through his veins. The one time, he thought. The only time —

“Tessa,” he said. “I think you had better go.”

“Go?” Her lips parted; they were swollen from his kisses. It was like looking at a wound he had inflicted, and at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. “I should not have been so forward. I’m sorry —”

“God.” The word surprised him; he had stopped believing in God a long time ago, and now he had invoked him twice. The pain on her face was almost more than he could bear, and not least because he had not intended to hurt her. So often, he intended to hurt and to wound, and this time he had not — not in the least — and he had caused more hurt than he could imagine. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her in his arms, not even to satisfy his desire but to impart tenderness. But doing so would only worsen the situation beyond imagining. “ Just leave me alone now,” he heard himself say. “Tessa. I’m begging you. Do you understand? I’m begging you. Please, please leave.”

Her reply came, finally, stiff with hurt and anger. “Very well,” she said, though it was clearly not. He chanced a look at her out of the corner of his eye: she was proud, she would not cry. She did not bother to gather up the hair clips he had scattered; she only rose to her feet and turned her back on him. 

He deserved no better, he knew. He he had thrown himself at her with no regard for her reputation or the indecorousness of his passion. Jem would have thought of it. Jem would have been more careful of her feelings. And once upon a time, he thought, as her footsteps receded, so would he. But he no longer knew how to be that person. He had covered up that Will for so long with pretense that it was the pretense he reached for first, and not the reality. He dug his nails into the floorboards, welcoming the pain, for it was little compared to the pain of knowing that he had lost more than Tessa’s good opinion this evening. He had lost Will Herondale. And he did not know if he could ever get him back.

By Palnk on deviant-Art

Résumé Clockwork Prince

Il est super long comme résumé !!!

In the magical underworld of Victorian London, Tessa Gray has at last found safety with the Shadowhunters. But that safety proves fleeting when rogue forces in the Clave plot to see her protector, Charlotte, replaced as head of the Institute. If Charlotte loses her position, Tessa will be out on the street—and easy prey for the mysterious Magister, who wants to use Tessa’s powers for his own dark ends.

With the help of the handsome, self-destructive Will and the fiercely devoted Jem, Tessa discovers that the Magister’s war on the Shadowhunters is deeply personal. He blames them for a long-ago tragedy that shattered his life. To unravel the secrets of the past, the trio journeys from mist-shrouded Yorkshire to a manor house that holds untold horrors, from the slums of London to an enchanted ballroom where Tessa discovers that the truth of her parentage is more sinister than she had imagined. When they encounter a clockwork demon bearing a warning for Will, they realize that the Magister himself knows their every move—and that one of their own has betrayed them.

Tessa finds her heart drawn more and more to Jem, but her longing for Will, despite his dark moods, continues to unsettle her. But something is changing in Will—the wall he has built around himself is crumbling. Could finding the Magister free Will from his secrets and give Tessa the answers about who she is and what she was born to do?

As their dangerous search for the Magister and the truth leads the friends into peril, Tessa learns that when love and lies are mixed, they can corrupt even the purest heart.

La couverture de Clockwork Prince

Hier a été enfin révélée la couverture du 2° tome de The Infernal Device.

On peut y voir MON chouchou Jem , je trouve la couverture vraiment sublime elle est encore plus belle que celle du tome 1 avec Will!

Maintenant il nous faut patienter jusqu'au 6 Décembre pour lire ce livre..........TeamPatience

Pour patienter Cassandra Clare a révélé les titres des chapitres avec un petit explicatif !

 Prologue: The Outcast Dead

Will visits the Cross Bones Graveyard in London.

Chapter One: The Council Chamber

Pretty literal — the Council meets to discuss whether Charlotte is fit to run the Institute; we see a bit more of the Lightwoods, not to mention the Waylands and some other familiar families.

Chapter Two: Reparations

“Mr. Bane has been awaiting your arrival, sir,” said the footman, and stepped aside to let Will enter.

Chapter Three: Unjustifiable Death

The term, under the Accords, for a Shadowhunter killing a Downworlder without provocation.

“This was the first time she had been alone with Will in weeks.”

Chapter Four: A Journey

Tessa, Will and Jem leave the Institute and in fact, London entirely.

“Gabriel Lightwood strode across the room to meet them. He really was quite tall, Tessa thought, craning her neck to look up at him. As a tall girl herself, she didn’t often find herself bending her head back to look up at men.”

Chapter Five: Shades of the Past

This one is a pun that will probably only make sense upon actual reading. Althpugh one of the themes of the book is how the past affects the present.

Chapter Six: In Silence Sealed

Again the theme is hidden secrets. The title comes from a Charlotte Bronte poem. “In secret kept, in silence sealed.” Tessa begins to uncover the secrets of her own origins.

Chapter Seven: I had to redact the title of this chapter. It’s a spoiler.

“When Will truly wants something,” said Jem, quietly, “when he feels something — he can break your heart.”

Chapter Eight: The Purposes of Wrath

The title here comes from Thomas de Quncey’s (yes de Quincey!) Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. The paragraph is about addiction, and both the pleasures and the pains of opium, and the chapter is not dissimilar. Also, we meet Ragnor Fell.

Chapter Nine: Fierce Midnight

This chapter ends the night begun in the previous chapter. And has some pretty hot kissing. Titled after a Swinburne poem.

Chapter Ten: The Virtue of Angels

The virtue of angels is that they cannot deteriorate; their flaw is that they cannot improve. Man’s flaw is that he can deteriorate; and his virtue is that he can improve. —The Talmud

Someone rather unexpected hits Gabriel — who, really, was asking for it.

Chapter Eleven: Wild Unrest

This chapter title comes from the poem “City of Dreadful Night” by James Thompson. It’s really about taking on the suffering of someone you love. Will wanders about London at night. “He had reached Fleet Street. Temple Bar was visible through the mist in the distance” — Temple Bar is the structure Jem is standing in front of, on the cover of the book.

Chapter Twelve: The Ball

This is somewhat self-explanatory. There is a masquerade ball. And a balcony. And Magnus.

Chapter Thirteen: The Mortal Sword

We finally see the Mortal Sword put to its actual use: extracting the truth from reluctant Shadowhunters. And it is not pretty.

Chapter Fourteen: The Silent City

“Ah,” said a voice from the doorway, “having your annual ‘everyone thinks Will is a lunatic’ meeting, are you?”

Chapter Fifteen: Thousands More

From a poem by Charlotte Mew: There are thousands more; you do not miss a rose.

“Will has always been the brighter burning star, the one to catch attention — but Jem is a steady flame, unwavering and honest. He could make you happy.”

Chapter Sixteen: Mortal Rage

In which there are automatons and vengeance and explosions. The title comes from Shakespeare: “And brass eternal slave to mortal rage.”

Chapter Seventeen: In Dreams

There is the famous “in dreams begin responsibilities” but this title is actually from a poem by Matthew Arnold. The chapter from which this deleted scene was taken.

Chapter Eighteen: Until I Die

This chapter title has really freaked people out. So I will be nice and say that it is from a poem by Christopher Brennan (no relation to Sarah Rees):

Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why” I love you now until I die.

Chapter Nineteen: If Treason Doth Prosper

Betrayals and misunderstandings come thick and fast. And Magnus may have a new boyfriend. The title is from a poem attributed to Sir John Harrington:

“Treason doth never prosper: what’s the reason? Why if it prosper, none dare call it treason.”

Chapter Twenty: The Last Dream

This is the chapter that made me cry! I rarely cry so I felt good about that. The chapter title comes from A Tale of Two Cities.

Chapter Twenty-One: Coals of Fire

I guess if you’re paying a lot of attention you’ll recognize this as part of something Jace quotes in City of Fallen Angels. Endings, beginnings, new characters, and, I promise, not too bad of a cliffhanger

Teaser Clockwork Prince

Nouveau Teaser en bas de l'article sur Will et Tessa

Quelques teasers que Cassandra a révélé sur ce tome:

 * "What desperation drove you to me, in the middle of the night, in a rainstorm ? What has changed at the Institute ? I can only think of one thing..."

 *  - "But you are much prettier," Jem said

 * - Will: "“Tess,” he said, and she thought, once again, how no one but him ever called her that. “That is all I think about.

 * - Tessa: “Jem !” she cried again, and when he did not look up, she strode across the room, and wrenched the bow out of his hand. “Jem, stop !

 

 *  "“I would die for you, you know that." - unattributed. Clockwork Prince. There, distracted I hope !

 *  “They’re not hideous,” said Tessa. 
Will blinked at her. “What?” 
“Gideon and Gabriel,” said Tessa. “They’re really quite good-looking, not hideous at all.” 
“I spoke,” said Will, in sepulchral tones, “of the pitch-black inner depths of their souls.” 
Tessa snorted. “And what color do you suppose the inner depths of your soul are, Will Herondale?” 
“Mauve,” said Will.

 * Will's voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jem.”
  “Yes,” said Jem. “You just make more of them than most people.”
  “I —”
  “You hurt everyone,” said Jem. “Everyone whose life you touch.”
  “Not you,” Will whispered. “I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to hurt you.”
  Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Will —”
  “You can’t never forgive me,” Will said in disbelief, hearing the panic tinging his own voice. “I’d be —”
  “Alone?” Jem lowered his hand, but he was smiling now, crookedly. “And whose fault is that ?”  

* “Say something in Mandarin,” said Tessa, with a smile. 
  Jem said something that sounded like a lot of breathy vowels and consonants run together, his voice rising    and falling melodically: “Ni hen piao liang.” 
  “What did you say?” Tessa was curious. 
  “I said your hair is coming undone — here,” he said, and reached out and tucked an escaping curl back  behind   her ear. Tessa felt the blood spill hot up into her face, and was glad for the dimness of the carriage.  “You have to be careful with it,” he said, taking his hand back, slowly, his fingers lingering against her cheek.

Yes, what he actually says is "You are beautiful." But Tessa doesn't know that.

 * Magnus and ...? mid-book, about Will. 

“He’s Nephilim,” said his companion. “And you’ve never cared for them. How much did he pay you?” 
“Nothing,” said Magnus, and now he was not seeing anything that was there, not the river, not Will, only a wash of memories: eyes, faces, lips, receding into memory, love that he could no longer put a name to. “He did me a favor. One he doesn’t even remember.” 
“He’s very pretty. For a human.”
 “He’s very broken,” said Magnus. “Like a lovely vase that someone has smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was before.”


Teaser du mois de mai sur Will et Tessa,passage qui se situe dans le milieu du livre:

Tessa pushed the carriage curtains aside. Outside she could see the gaslights going by in a yellow blur; two children were slumped in a doorway, leaning against each other, asleep. Temple Bar flew by overhead.

“Have you ever thought of transforming yourself into one of your parents?” Will asked. “Your mother, or father? It would give you access to their memories, wouldn’t it?”

She turned to look at him. “I have thought of it. Of course I have. But I have nothing of my father’s or mother’s. Everything that was packed in my trunks for the voyage here was discarded by the Dark Sisters.”

“What about your angel necklace?” Will asked. “Wasn’t that your mother’s?”

Tessa shook her head. “I tried. I — I could reach nothing of her in it. It has been mine so long, I think, that what made it hers has evaporated, like water.”

Will’s eyes were dark blue in the shadows. “Perhaps you are a clockwork girl. Perhaps Mortmain’s warlock father built you, and now Mortmain seeks the secret of how to create such a perfect facsimile of life when all he can build are hideous monstrosities. Perhaps all that beats beneath your chest is a heart made of metal.”

Tessa drew in a breath, feeling momentarily dizzy. His soft voice was so convincing, and yet — “No,” she said, sharply. “You forget, I remember my childhood. Mechanical creatures do not change or grow. Nor would that explain my ability.”

“I know,” said Will, with a grin that flashed white in the darkness. “I only wanted to see if I could convince *you*.”

Tessa looked at him steadily. “I am not the one of us who has no heart.”
It was too dim in the carriage for her to tell, but she sensed that he had flushed, as he did when startled or upset, across the tops of his cheekbones. To her surprise, he reached out a gloved hand for her. It just brushed the edges of her curls, the kid leather smooth against her cheek — and the carriage wheels came to a jerking halt. They had arrived.

Nouveau Teaser du 19 Mai :

"Knowing Jem would arrive next, Tessa stepped away from Will hastily, though nothing improper had transpired between them at all." — CP1

Nouveau Teaser du 24 Mai :
"It did not help that Jem had not been there. She had wanted to badly to speak to him today."

Scène supprimée Clockwork Prince

Source de l'image Devianart

Voici le teaser du mois d'avril (Liliebook)

The Lightwood boys. 

The door to the training room opened. Tessa and Sophie turned as Gabriel Lightwood strode into the room, followed by a boy she had not met. Where Gabriel was slender and darker-haired, the other boy was muscular, with thick, sandy-blond hair. They were both dressed in gear, with expensive-looking dark gloves studded with metal across the knuckles. Each wore silver bands around each wrist — knife sheaths, Tessa knew — and had the same elaborate, pale white pattern of runes woven into the sleeves of their gear. It was clear not just from the similarity of their clothes but the shape of their faces and the pale, luminous green of their eyes that they were related, so Tessa was not in the least surprised when Gabriel said, in his abrupt manner : 

“Well, we’re here as we said we would be. James, I assume you remember my brother, Gideon. Miss Gray, Miss Collins —” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Gideon muttered, meeting neither of their gazes with his. Bad moods seemed to run in the family, Tessa thought, remembering that Will had said that next to his brother, Gabriel seemed a sweetheart.

Vous pouvez retrouver les autres teasers ici

 Voici une scène supprimée de Clockwork Prince + une phrase de City of Souls.

So here's a deleted scene from Clockwork Prince and, at the bottom, a line from City of Lost Souls. The CP scene never actually shows up in the text and I've redacted some spoilers.

The darkness came and went in waves that grew ever slower. Tessa was beginning to feel lighter, less like an awful weight was pressing her down. She wondered how much time had passed. It was night in the infirmary, and she could see Will a few beds away from her, a curled figure under the blankets, dark head pillowed on his arm. Brother Enoch had given him a tisane to drink once the [redacted] was cut out of his skin, and he had fallen asleep almost instantly, thank God. The sight of him in that much pain had been more harrowing than she could have imagined.

She was in a clean white nightgown now; someone must have cut away her blood-stiffened clothes and washed her hair before bandaging her — it lay softly over his shoulders, no longer twisted into rat-tails of tangles and drying blood.

‘Tessa,” came a whispered voice. “Tess?”

Only Will calls me that. She opened her eyes, but it was Jem seated on the side of her bed, looking down at her. The moonlight spilling through the high ceilings turned him almost transparent, an ethereal angel, all silver but for the gold chain at his throat.
He smiled. “You’re awake.”

“I’ve been awake here and there.” She coughed. “Enough to know I’m all right besides a crack on the head. A lot of fuss about nothing —” Tessa’s eyes dropped, and she saw that Jem was carrying something in his hands: a thick mug of some liquid that sent up a fragrant steam. “What’s that?”

“One of Brother Enoch’s tisanes,” said Jem. “It will help you sleep.”

“All I’ve been doing is sleeping!”

“And very amusing it is to watch,” said Jem. “Did you know you twitch your nose when you sleep, like a rabbit?”

“I do not,” she said, with a whispered laugh.

“You do,” he said. “Fortunately, I like rabbits.” He handed her the cup. “Drink just a little,” He said. “It is right for you to sleep. Brother Enoch says to think of the wounds and shocks to your spirit as you would think of wounds and shocks to your body. You must rest the injured part of yourself before you begin to heal.”
Tessa was dubious, but she took a sip of the tisane anyway, and then another. It had a pleasant taste, like cinnamon. Barely had she swallowed the second mouthful when a feeling of exhaustion swept over her. She lay back against the pillows, listening to his soft voice telling her a story about a beautiful young woman whose husband had died building the Great Wall of China, and who had cried so much over his loss that she had turned into a silvery fish and swum away across a river. As Tessa drifted off into dreams, she felt his gentle hands take the cup from her and set it down on the bedside table. She wanted to thank him, but she was already asleep.

Nouveau teaser CP1

“Jem is nothing but goodness. That he struck you last night only shows how capable you are of driving even saints to madness.” — Tessa, CP1

CITY OF LOST SOULS.

“He is a Shadowhunter,” said Jocelyn. “His loyalty will be to Clave and Covenant.”
“He’s my friend,” said Magnus coldly. “His loyalty is to me.”

Extrait de Clockwork prince ,Cassandra Clare

Mise à jour en bas de l'article



La couverture définitive sera révélée en mai 2011.

Synopsis :

In Clockwork Prince, with the Magister vanished and the clock counting down on how long Charlotte can keep control of the Institute away from Benedict Lightwood, Will, Jem and Tessa must dig into the Magister's past to predict what he will do in the future. But secrets about the Magister aren't all they find buried — Tessa begins to uncover the truth about her own birth, and the ghosts of Will's past return to haunt him. As Tessa grows closer to Jem, and Will is driven further toward the brink of madness by jealousy and guilt, will they discover the truth in time to halt the next phase of the Magister's evil plan ?  

Un plus long extrait :

They slowed finally at the southeastern corner of the church. Watery daylight poured through the rose windows overhead. “I know we are in a hurry to get to the Council meeting,” said Jem. “But I wanted you to see this.” He gestured around them. “Poet’s Corner.”

Tessa had read of the place, of course, where the great poets and writers of England were buried. There was the gray stone tomb of Chaucer, with its canopy, and other familiar names: Edmund Spenser, who had written The Faerie Queen, “Oh, and Milton,” she gasped, “and Coleridge, and Robert Burns, and Shakespeare —”

“He isn’t really buried here,” said Jem, quickly. “It’s just a monument.”
“Oh, I know, but —” She looked at him, and felt herself flush. “I can’t explain it. It’s like being among friends, being among these names. Silly, I know . . .”
“Not silly at all.”
She smiled at him. “How did you know just what I’d want to see?” “How could I not?” he said. “When I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mind’s eye always with a book in your hand.” He looked away from her as he said it, but not before she caught the slight flush on his cheekbones. He was so pale, he could never hide even the least blush, she thought — and was surprised how affectionate the thought was.

She had become very fond of Jem over the past fortnight; Will had been studiously avoiding her, Charlotte and Henry were caught up in issues of Clave and Council and the running of the Institute —even Jessamine seemed preoccupied. But Jem was always there. He seemed to take his role as her guide to London seriously: they had been to Hyde Park and Kew Gardens, the National Gallery and the British Museum, the Tower of London and Traitor’s Gate. They gone to see the cows being milked in St James Park, the fruit and vegetable sellers in Covent Garden, had watched the boats sailing on the sun-sparked Thames from the Embankment. And as the days went on, Tessa felt herself unfolding slowly out of her quiet, huddled unhappiness over Nate and Will and the loss of her old life, like a flower climbing out of frozen ground. She had even found herself laughing. And she had Jem to thank for it.

“You are a good friend,” she exclaimed, and when, to her surprise, he said nothing to that, she said, “At least, I hope we are good friends. You do think so too, don’t you, Jem?”

He turned to look at her. 

Nouvelles infos sur Jem   source

Clare answered a seemingly innocent question which revealed something about our good boy James “Jem” Carstairs.

When Clare brought up the Dirty Sexy Balcony Scene, that is to be unveiled in “Clockwork Prince,” a fan assumed that it was between Tessa and Will because Jem is “too mannered for that.”

“Being nice does not mean being desire free,” Clare said.

Jem has got to have a smutty side, right?

“He does! As I have said, he can bring it!” Clare said.

So the obvious first guess as to who Jem will be getting smutty with is Tessa. But of course Clare has to leave her readers second guessing themselves.

She confirmed that Jem will have a sexy scene, but she “won’t say with who.”

Team Jem alias James Carstairs

Pour une fois je suis dans la team minoritaire dans la saga "The infernal devices" de Cassandra Clare, puisque je préfére Jem à Will.

Au lieu de grands discours voici quelques précisions sur mon Jem !!

Ces traductions ont été faites par ma cop's Lilie voici son blog 

"Jem, do you have feeling for Tessa?" Jem: I, ah, greatly respect and admire her . . . she is a most compelling creature.

Jem, as-tu des sentiments pour Tessa ? Jem : Je, euh, la respecte grandement et l'admire... elle est une créature irrésistible. 

"Jem, are you in love with Tessa? Will you fight over your best friend to stay with her?" Jem: What? But Will doesn't care for her.

Jem, es-tu amoureux de Tessa ? Est-ce que tu te battrais avec ton meilleur ami pour rester avec elle ? Jem : Quoi ? Mais Will ne se préoccupe pas d'elle.

"Jem, if you had to kiss either Will or Jessamine, which would you kiss?" Will would be less likely to kill me for doing it.

"Jem: Is there anything you really want to do before you die?" I'd like to love someone like my father did my mother.

" Jem, what's your favorite thing to do besides killing demons and saving people`?" Play the violin.


" Jem, if you had to reveal one secret who would you reveal it to?" Will.

" Jem: if you found a cure.. What would you do?" Live.

"Jem what would you think if i said girls around the world are in love with you?" I would be very puzzled.

Jem, and what would you think if one of those girls (yeah, me) wants to marry you?" I'd try to talk you out of it.

"Jem, do you considered youself as a romantic man?" No one who says 'it's as good to love as be loved' is unromantic.

" Jem: why did you take Church with you???" He seemed like a nice cat.

" Jem, i found the cure!" Now that is just mean!


" Jem, are you proud of who you are?" Not with a foolish pride, I think — but neither am I ashamed.

Clockwork angel,Cassandra Clare

Sortie Française de Clockwork Angel en Novembre 2012 on ne connait pas encore la couverture.

Synopsis :

Magic is dangerous--but love is more dangerous still.

When sixteen-year-old Tessa Gray crosses the ocean to find her brother, her destination is England, the time is the reign of Queen Victoria, and something terrifying is waiting for her in London's Downworld, where vampires, warlocks and other supernatural folk stalk the gaslit streets. Only the Shadowhunters, warriors dedicated to ridding the world of demons, keep order amidst the chaos.

Kidnapped by the mysterious Dark Sisters, members of a secret organization called The Pandemonium Club, Tessa soon learns that she herself is a Downworlder with a rare ability: the power to transform, at will, into another person. What's more, the Magister, the shadowy figure who runs the Club, will stop at nothing to claim Tessa's power for his own.

Friendless and hunted, Tessa takes refuge with the Shadowhunters of the London Institute, who swear to find her brother if she will use her power to help them. She soon finds herself fascinated by--and torn between--two best friends: James, whose fragile beauty hides a deadly secret, and blue-eyed Will, whose caustic wit and volatile moods keep everyone in his life at arm's length...everyone, that is, but Tessa. As their search draws them deep into the heart of an arcane plot that threatens to destroy the Shadowhunters, Tessa realizes that she may need to choose between saving her brother and helping her new friends save the world...and that love may be the most dangerous magic of all.

Ce que j'en pense :

Un bon  préquel  à la Cité.

On retrouve l'ambiance que j'avais tant aimé dans "La Cité des ténèbres", des Shadowhunters,un institut  et le monde des créatures obscures, l'Alliance, l'Enclave mais ici on se retrouve dans le Londres Victorien de 1878.
Dans ce monde  les Shadowhunters sont confrontés à la menace du Magister qui veut se débarrasser des Nephilim et commence à  fabriquer des automates pour l'aider à accomplir son plan.
Tessa dont le frère a disparu part à sa recherche et se retrouve plongée dans le monde des Shadowhunters et en apprend plus sur sa véritable nature;elle est une fervente lectrice et on a le plaisir d'avoir des extraits de poèmes en début de chapitres.

 Will Herondale est le Jace du 19° siècle, on retrouve dans ses répliques  le même sarcasme et ironie.
On se doute qu'il cache quelque chose, que son passé l'a anéanti d'une manière ou d'une autre et que c'est pour ça que parfois il se montre si froid,cruel et distant.Mais on n'en connait pas le raison.

Quand à Jem, ou James Carstairs, c'est son opposé. Meilleur ami et Chasseurs d'Ombres également, ils sont comme frères, étant tout deux orphelins et ayant passé la plus grande partie de leur vie à l'Institut. Là où Will est odieux et distant, Jem est un ange, un vrai.C'est le personnage le plus "gentil " on va dire mais son cas est également intéressant comme on l'apprend quand il raconte son histoire à Tess.C'est Jem qui m'a le plus ému dans ce livre.

Le seul petie bémol que je ferais à ce livre est la romance,quand on lit le synopsis on s'attend à plus et j'avoue que ça m'a un peu chagriné mais mis à part ça le livre est vraiment très bien.

Une petite photo du trio  (Jem,Tessa & Will )

Citations:

  * "Will: "Well, she's not responding to my advances," he observed more brightly than he felt, "so she must be dead."
Jem: "Or she's a woman of good taste and sense."

  * "You know," Gabriel said, "there was a time I thought we could be friends, Will."
"There was a time I thought I was a ferret," Will said, "but that turned out to be the opium haze. Did you know it had that effect? Because I didn't."

  * "One must always be careful of books," said Tessa, "and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us."