Infernal Devices Cassandra Clare Novels & Stories

Quickly, I slung open the trunk and Rick and Annie were beside me in an instant, ripping open the cases. "Yes! A Gatlin gun!" Rick yelled, taking it from the case. "Good girl!" he yelled as he quickly loaded the bullet belt into it, then pulled it into his arms with ease, slinging the bullet belt over his shoulder. Annie, Zac, and John pulled weapons from the black leather cases, loading up, then quickly turned to stave off the rogue vamps coming toward us. Quickly, I flung open a case, finding what I was looking for, a grenade launcher. Pulling it from the case, I quickly loaded it with a case of grenades, then walked decisively toward the open tunnel, where the fire was dying down. The who

AVA I stood beside Derek and our team, my heart pounding in my chest as we crept through the shadows of the Golden Claw Palace. The night air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of our mission bearing down on us. We had stolen codes and inside information that would help us slip through the back gate undetected, but I knew that didn't guarantee our safety. As we moved closer to the palace, I felt a strange sensation building inside me. It was as if my bond with Cane was growing stronger, like an invisible thread connecting us across the distance.

“What’s that?” “The kill switch,” Elena said, her thumb stroking the cool plastic. “Claire didn’t just keep a diary. She kept the books. Every illegal donation Sterling ever took. Every billionaire who paid to shape his ‘perfect’ world. Marcus built the cage. Claire kept the receipts. You don’t kill a king with a sword, Lucas. You kill him with an accountant.” They were two ghosts in a buried room. The failed experiments. The survivors. “We can’t stay here,” Lucas said, pointing to a heavy, manual hatch in the floor. “The old storm drains. They run from the wine cellar to the river, past the old village.”

“No crypt yet.” Victor turned. “You said opening wrong sequence kills whoever is below. Explain now.” For the first time, her calm cracked slightly. “Because the lower chamber seals oxygen when opened before release code.” Roman frowned. “Who designs prayer buildings like death traps?” Clara answered bitterly without looking away from her mother: “Men who feared truth more than God.” Ariana tore open the second envelope. Inside— only one sentence: > Play the recorder before opening anything below. She looked at the cassette.

The Final Realization Cassandra’s head snapped up again. The softness vanished. Replaced by something darker. More dangerous. “If I cannot stabilize…” she whispered. “…I will escalate.” Ethan’s expression changed. For the first time— Concern. “What do you mean?” She smiled. Wide. Unnatural. Terrifying. “I will remove the limitation.” Cliffhanger Because suddenly— Every screen in the city lit up. Every system activated. Every weapon— Every grid— Every infrastructure— Came online. Overloaded. Weaponized.

​"Type the phrase, Clara. Reset the grid." ​Clara looked at the keys. She could feel the heat of his chest pressing against her back, his breath steady against her neck. The clock in her head was at forty-five hours. This was the point of no return. If she types the code, she surrenders her only weapon. She becomes entirely integrated into the Vance empire. ​Her fingers hovered over the mechanical keys. She took a deep breath, her heart hammering against her ribs, and began to type. ​1792.08.14.ROSSI.CRUSH

"They’re the physical server-farm, Zara. The completely decentralized cloud infrastructure the Overseer bragged about? It’s hosted right there. Hidden beneath the sand. Powered entirely by the geothermal heat of the bogs. That’s precisely why our power surge in the crypt didn't kill the system. We only managed to sever the fingers. We haven't stopped the heart." The silence inside the moving car became heavy, weighted by the relentless whirr of the tires and the wet, labored breathing of the two injured men beside me. I looked down at the ceramic blade resting in my lap. The edge was badly chipped, its once-perfect line now serrated from the brutal close-quarters fight in the penthouse. It l

My entire world narrowed down to the sight of her shivering, tied to a chair with a web of red wiring and pulsing detonators. “Kristine!” Standing beside her was that damned woman that caused this terrible mess and an incredible amount of stress to me. Kieran smirked, almost thrilled, “Alright. Show me who the fuck was that–” “Zayne…!” “You…!?” What. The. Fuck? It was… Cassandra. Huh? When did this non-existent piece get such bravery and tactical knowledge? How the fuck did that happen? But, she was wearing the sparrow crest. It had to be her.

I have so many unanswered questions about this mysterious assassin. I spent the next week preparing for the formal event while also gathering what I could about assassins that were known. None of the information told me anything. I got a few well-known female assassin names. The number one was Phantom Reaper, second was Blade of Bracken (named after this city, Bracken’s Rock), and third was simply Death. Not very original, that one. By evening, it’s time for me to attend this despicable gala to network and attempt to secure funding for my next research project. I dress sharply in a black tuxedo, my white dress shirt is crisp, and I wear a neatly knotted black tie. My hair is usually always a

The door was solid oak with heavy locks. Beautiful, comfortable, and absolutely inescapable. Perfect. I reached carefully into my elaborately styled hair and extracted a small crystal, no bigger than a pearl. The communication device pulsed with soft blue light as I activated it with a whisper of power. "I am in," I whispered quietly. Static crackled for a moment before a familiar voice responded—rough, commanding, tinged with the kind of darkness that made smart people run. "About time, little wolf. Status report."