Cassandra Clare

“What are all these?” Clary asked.
“Vials of holy water, blessed knives, steel and silver blades,” Jace said, piling the weapons on the floor beside him, “electrum wire – not much use at the moment but it’s always good to have spares – silver bullets, charms of protetion, crucifixes, stars of David-“
“Jesus,” said Clary
“I doubt he’d fit.”
“Jace.” Clary was appalled.”

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