Before them was chaos. A white mist blanketed the garden, and there was a heavy smell
in the air—the sharp tang of ozone and something else under it, sweet and unpleasant.
Figures darted back and forth—Simon could see them only in fragments, as they appeared
and disappeared through gaps in the fog. He glimpsed Isabelle, her hair snapping around
her in black ropes as she swung her whip. It made a deadly fork of golden lightning through
the shadows. She was fending o the advance of something lumbering and huge—a demon,
Simon thought—but it was full daylight; that was impossible. As he stumbled forward, he
saw that the creature was humanoid in shape, but humped and twisted, somehow wrong. It
carried a thick wooden plank in one hand and was swinging at Isabelle almost blindly.
Only a short distance away, through a gap in the stone wall, Simon could see the trac
on York Avenue rumbling placidly by. The sky beyond the Institute was clear.
“Forsaken,” Jace whispered. His face was blazing as he drew one of his seraph blades
from his belt. “Dozens of them.” He pushed Simon to the side, almost roughly. “Stay here, do
you understand? Stay here.” […]
“The Portal!” he was shouting. “Go through the
Several things happened at once. Maryse Lightwood appeared out of the mist, carrying
the boy, Max, in her arms. She paused to call something over her shoulder and then plunged
toward the Portal and through it, vanishing into the wall. Alec followed, dragging Isabelle
after him, her blood-spattered whip trailing on the ground. As he pulled her toward the
Portal, something surged up out of the mist behind them—a Forsaken warrior, swinging a
Simon unfroze. Darting forward, he called out Isabelle’s name—then stumbled and
pitched forward, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him, if he’d had
any breath. He scrambled into a sitting position, turning to see what he’d tripped over.
It was a body. The body of a woman, her throat slit, her eyes wide and blue in death.
Blood stained her pale hair. Madeleine. […]
— City of Glass by Cassandra Clare
Chapter 1: The Portal
If you are new to this blog, it might be a surprise to you that I have been screaming about the lax security at the Insitute since the very beginning of ‘City of Bones’. Everyone and their mama can just waltz on the grounds including apparently Vampires. It’s all well and good if a vampire can’t get into the Church, but that makes no difference if you guys are just hanging out front lawn and any Downworlder can just slide on the ground and attack a person.
Not only that, if you were once a vampire that was converted into a Downworlder, you can still access any Clave building. Luke, actually demonstrated this back in ‘City of Ashes’. Not to mention that Valentine himself has entered the Insitute before on many occasions as Michael Wayland. And it seems no one has thought to close that loophole at all.
Now, Valentine has sent Foresakens to attack the Insitute out of the blue, where everyone was conveniently on the front lawn.I know seemingly because Downworlders (with no Shadowhunter blood) can’t enter Clave owned buildings. However, that means nothing if they can attack you on your front lawn.
Again, this doesn’t take a security expert to figure out. Anyone would some common sense would have tightened security in and around Clave buildings, especially the New York Insitute. Again, as dumb as Valentine can be, the Clave is just as dumb.
Now, I want to move on to Madeline. Madeline literally showed up to Deus Ex Machina a solution for Joceylen. Then she showed up for this scene and now she’s dead. Now I know I have asked this about almost every character except for the main three characters: Why do we need these characters?
Madeline put it simply is a plot device; nothing more. We know nothing about her or her motivations. She was simply there to be a plot device and that is NOT how you write characters! Again, this is not rocket science, this is the fundamentals of writing and characterization. Yet, Clare continues to fail at even that!
Honestly, shit like this is what makes Clare a hack of a writer. Because she doesn’t even care about the very basics of the skill of writing.