The Mortal Instruments：City of Fallen Angels 堕落天使之城 ISBN 9781442403543ISBN9781442403550 在线下载 pdf mobi 2025 epub 电子版

　　The Mortal War is over, and sixteen-year-old Clary Fray is back home in New York, excited about all the possibilities before her. She's training to become a Shadowhunter and ? most importantly of all ? she can finally call Jace her boyfriend. But nothing comes without a price. Someone is murdering the Shadowhunters who used to be in Valentine's Circle, provoking tensions between Downworlders and Shadowhunters that could lead to a second, bloody war. And when Jace begins to pull away from her without explaining why, Clary is forced to delve into the heart of a mystery whose solution reveals her worst nightmare: she herself has set in motion a terrible chain of events that could lead to her losing everything she loves. Even Jace.

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　　Cassandra Clare is the author of the #1 New York Times, USA TODAY, Wall Street Journal, and Publishers Weekly bestselling Mortal Instruments series, the Infernal Devices trilogy, and the Bane Chronicles. Her books have more than 30 million copies in print worldwide and have been translated into more than thirty-five languages. Cassandra lives in western Massachusetts.

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　　Chapter One The Master

　　“Just coffee, please.”

　　The waitress raised her penciled eyebrows. “You don’t want anything to eat?” she asked. Her accent was thick, her attitude disappointed.

　　Simon Lewis couldn’t blame her; she’d probably been hoping for a better tip than the one she was going to get on a single cup of coffee. But it wasn’t his fault vampires didn’t eat. Sometimes, in restaurants, he ordered food anyway, just to preserve the appearance of normalcy, but late Tuesday night, when Veselka was almost empty of other customers, it didn’t seem worth the bother. “Just the coffee.”

　　With a shrug the waitress took his laminated menu and went to put his order in. Simon sat back against the hard plastic diner chair and looked around. Veselka, a diner on the corner of Ninth Street and Second Avenue, was one of his favorite places on the Lower East Side—an old neighborhood eatery papered with black-and-white murals, where they let you sit all day as long as you ordered coffee at half-hour intervals. They also served what had once been his favorite vegetarian pierogi and borscht, but those days were behind him now.

　　It was mid-October, and they’d just put their Halloween decorations up—a wobbly sign that said TRICK-OR-BORSCHT! and a fake cardboard cutout vampire nicknamed Count Blintzula. Once upon a time Simon and Clary had found the cheesy holiday decorations hilarious, but the Count, with his fake fangs and black cape, didn’t strike Simon as quite so funny anymore.

　　Simon glanced toward the window. It was a brisk night, and the wind was blowing leaves across Second Avenue like handfuls of thrown confetti. There was a girl walking down the street, a girl in a tight belted trench coat, with long black hair that flew in the wind. People turned to watch her as she walked past. Simon had looked at girls like that before in the past, idly wondering where they were going, who they were meeting. Not guys like him, he knew that much.

　　Except this one was. The bell on the diner’s front door rang as the door opened, and Isabelle Lightwood came in. She smiled when she saw Simon, and came toward him, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of the chair before she sat down. Under the coat she was wearing one of what Clary called her “typical Isabelle outfits”: a tight short velvet dress, fishnet stockings, and boots. There was a knife stuck into the top of her left boot that Simon knew only he could see; still, everyone in the diner was watching as she sat down, flinging her hair back. Whatever she was wearing, Isabelle drew attention like a fireworks display.

　　Beautiful Isabelle Lightwood. When Simon had met her, he’d assumed she’d have no time for a guy like him. He’d turned out to be mostly right. Isabelle liked boys her parents disapproved of, and in her universe that meant Downworlders—faeries, werewolves, and vamps. That they’d been dating regularly for the past month or two amazed him, even if their relationship was limited mostly to infrequent meetings like this one. And even if he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d never been changed into a vampire, if his whole life hadn’t been altered in that moment, would they be dating at all?

　　She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her smile brilliant. “You look nice.”

　　Simon cast a glance at himself in the reflective surface of the diner window. Isabelle’s influence was clear in the changes in his appearance since they’d been dating. She’d forced him to ditch his hoodies in favor of leather jackets, and his sneakers in favor of designer boots. Which, incidentally, cost three hundred dollars a pair. He was still wearing his characteristic word shirts—this one said EXISTENTIALISTS DO IT POINTLESSLY—but his jeans no longer had holes in the knees and torn pockets. He’d also grown his hair long so that it fell in his eyes now, covering his forehead, but that was more necessity than Isabelle.

　　Clary made fun of him about his new look; but, then, Clary found everything about Simon’s love life borderline hilarious. She couldn’t believe he was dating Isabelle in any serious way. Of course, she also couldn’t believe he was also dating Maia Roberts, a friend of theirs who happened to be a werewolf, in an equally serious way. And she really couldn’t believe that Simon hadn’t yet told either of them about the other.

　　Simon wasn’t really sure how it had happened. Maia liked to come to his house and use his Xbox—they didn’t have one at the abandoned police station where the werewolf pack lived—and it wasn’t until the third or fourth time she’d come over that she’d leaned over and kissed him good-bye before she’d left. He’d been pleased, and then had called up Clary to ask her if he needed to tell Isabelle. “Figure out what’s going on with you and Isabelle,” she said. “Then tell her.”

　　This had turned out to be bad advice. It had been a month, and he still wasn’t sure what was going on with him and Isabelle, so he hadn’t said anything. And the more time that passed, the more awkward the idea of saying something grew. So far he’d made it work. Isabelle and Maia weren’t really friends, and rarely saw each other. Unfortunately for him, that was about to change. Clary’s mother and her longtime friend, Luke, were getting married in a few weeks, and both Isabelle and Maia were invited to the wedding, a prospect Simon found more terrifying than the idea of being chased through the streets of New York by an angry mob of vampire hunters.

　　“So,” Isabelle said, snapping him out of his reverie. “Why here and not Taki’s? They’d serve you blood there.”

　　Simon winced at her volume. Isabelle was nothing if not unsubtle. Fortunately, no one seemed to be listening in, not even the waitress who returned, banged down a cup of coffee in front of Simon, eyed Izzy, and left without taking her order.

　　“I like it here,” he said. “Clary and I used to come here back when she was taking classes at Tisch. They have great borscht and blintzes—they’re like sweet cheese dumplings—plus it’s open all night.”

　　Isabelle, however, was ignoring him. She was staring past his shoulder. “What is that?”

　　Simon followed her glance. “That’s Count Blintzula.”

　　“Count Blintzula?”

　　Simon shrugged. “It’s a Halloween decoration. Count Blintzula is for kids. It’s like Count Chocula, or the Count on Sesame Street.” He grinned at her blank look. “You know. He teaches kids how to count.”

　　Isabelle was shaking her head. “There’s a TV show where children are taught how to count by a vampire?”

　　“It would make sense if you’d seen it,” Simon muttered.

　　“There is some mythological basis for such a construction,” Isabelle said, lapsing into lecturey Shadowhunter mode. “Some legends do assert that vampires are obsessed with counting, and that if you spill grains of rice in front of them, they’ll have to stop what they’re doing and count each one. There’s no truth in it, of course, any more than that business about garlic. And vampires have no business teaching children. Vampires are terrifying.”

　　“Thank you,” Simon said. “It’s a joke, Isabelle. He’s the Count. He likes counting. You know. ‘What did the Count eat today, children? One chocolate chip cookie, two chocolate chip cookies, three chocolate chip cookies . . .’”

　　There was a rush of cold air as the door of the restaurant opened, letting in another customer. Isabelle shivered and reached for her black silk scarf. “It’s not realistic.”

　　“What would you prefer? ‘What did the Count eat today, children? One helpless villager, two helpless villagers, three helpless villagers . . .’”

　　“Shh.” Isabelle finished knotting her scarf around her throat and leaned forward, putting her hand on Simon’s wrist. Her big dark eyes were alive suddenly, the way they only ever came alive when she was either hunting demons or thinking about hunting demons. “Look over there.”

　　Simon followed her gaze. There were two men standing over by the glass-fronted case that held bakery items: thickly frosted cakes, plates of rugelach, and cream-filled Danishes. Neither of the men looked as if they were interested in food, though. Both were short and painfully gaunt, so much so that their cheekbones jutted from their colorless faces like knives. Both had thin gray hair and pale gray eyes, and wore belted slate-colored coats that reached the floor.

　　“Now,” Isabelle said, “what do you suppose they are?”

　　Simon squinted at them. They both stared back at him, their lashless eyes like empty holes. “They kind of look like evil lawn gnomes.”

　　“They’re human subjugates,” Isabelle hissed. “They belong to a vampire.”

　　“‘Belong’ as in . . . ?”

　　She made an impatient noise. “By the Angel, you don’t know anything about your kind, do you? Do you even really know how vampires are made?”

　　“Well, when a mommy vampire and a daddy vampire love each other very much . . .”

　　Isabelle made a face at him. “Fine, you know that vampires don’t need to have sex to reproduce, but I bet you don’t really know how it works.”

　　“I do too,” said Simon. “I’m a vampire becau...

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媒体评论

　　"Many familiar characters make an appearance, including some from

Clockwork Angel

. . . The cliff-hanger close will leave series fans clamoring for more." --

Booklist

书籍介绍

Simon Lewis is having some trouble adjusting to his new life as a vampire, especially now that he hardly sees his best friend Clary, who is caught up in training to be a Shadowhunter - and spending time with her new boyfriend, Jace. Simon decides he needs a break and heads out of the city - only to discover that sinister events are following him. Realizing that the war they thought they'd won might not yet be over, Simon has to call on his Shadowhunter friends to save the day - if they can put their own splintering relationships on hold long enough to rise to the challenge. The Mortal Instruments series has over one million books in print. It has been on the New York Times bestseller list for six months straight. The books have been translated into 19 languages and have also appeared on bestseller lists in Germany, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand and Canada.

• 作者：danyboy 发布时间：2021-07-08 14:08:14

  比较有用，书很薄，要言不烦。看上去是懒人健身法。

• 作者：江凌 发布时间：2017-05-07 16:26:08

  在我自己看来，这本书是比第一本要进步的，如果看完这本书的人也会这样认为，我就很开心了。

• 作者：豹豹猫女 发布时间：2022-07-14 18:26:36

  字字珠玑，釜底抽薪，篇篇都值得细读琢磨。很多现代女性看来国男种种不可思议现象，背后都有着根深蒂固的传统文化渊源。迫不及待想看《生育制度》，要是早读几年，说不定人生会有不同选择。只是当初为了凑单买的这本，看书像做阅读理解，烦人。

• 作者：阿萌今天也很饿 发布时间：2016-06-17 11:24:59

  干巴巴的工具书

• 作者：收集故事的匹哥 发布时间：2019-01-08 08:30:44

  感觉一般。太多物理学专业术语了，我这种理工科白痴看不懂。最大的发现是，原来不是他出轨。而是他老婆简先跟别人在一起，几年后他才跟护士在一起。这些家人都是知道并默许的。他跟简的婚姻维系了将近二十周年，这太不容易了。

• 作者：qdsxinyee 发布时间：2020-11-02 00:50:40

  可能以后要经常翻

• 投机要趁早

  作者：LaoBai 发布时间：2006-09-14 22:34:05

  以前说过，我正在学习金融。然而，和以往的惯例不同，我没有选择金融学的教材，而是选择关于金融的相关读物。换句话说，我当然想掌握金融学的核心理论和基本方法，但作为玩票的我，更看重阅读的娱乐性。所谓寓教于乐是也。

  所以，当我看完《伟大的博弈》后，下一本关于金融学的兴趣读物选择了《贼巢》。

  《贼巢》据说是普利策新闻奖作品，按照美国人的说法，属于深度报道，按照中国人的习惯，可以归类为报告文学。

  《贼巢》描写的故事发生在美国，20世纪80年代，写的是股市和债券市场上的内幕交易。今天看来，这个故事有些陈旧，但对于中国的现实，还有一定的借鉴意义。

  贼巢主要描述了四个关键角色，以及他们之间通过利益关系建立起来的关系网。这个关系网利用内幕交易（互通信息和对敲）、投资银行发行债券、参与公司并购的便利条件和资金的流动，从金融市场上卷走了数十亿美金。并且，由于他们的败露造成公众对股市的不信任，直接导致了1987年的股市崩盘。

  《贼巢》阅读起来，并不是特别轻松，众多的人名和公司名称以及错综复杂的关系需要边读边梳理。作者是华尔街日报的记者出身，在新闻报道和事实描述方面当然无懈可击，但毕竟不是小说，因此人物的性格表现的不是很明显，这给轻松阅读带来了一定障碍。

  但《贼巢》决不难懂。实际上，它把一个故事讲了两遍。这本书分成上下两个部分，第一部叫做犯法，第二步叫做追捕。也就是说，第一部是讲四大金刚是怎么走在一起的，他们如何呼风唤雨，他们的心路历程。这是以时间、心理、事件的发生、发展为线索的。第二步是追捕，说得是证监会和地方检察官如何顺藤摸瓜，挖出毒瘤。第二步的发展既按照追捕的过程展开，实际上，也可看作对四大金刚犯罪过程的倒叙描述。因此，上下两部交相辉映，构成了一部完整的画卷，从多个角度讲述了一个波澜壮阔的故事。

  我很久没有对某一本书给与所谓“力荐”的称谓了，但这本书，应该无愧这个称号。无论是写作技巧还是金融知识，《贼巢》都属于开卷有益的那一种。出版社管《贼巢》叫做经典财经故事，此言不谬。这本书有历史的片断、有金融学知识、有矛盾冲突、也有人性刻画。

  至于读者掩卷沉思，得出什么样的观点，我倒是没有什么把握。就我个人而言，只是觉得：在钻政策和法律的空子以及遵守商业道德、金融法律法规之间，似乎只是一条看不见的红线。向左走、向右走，更多是对人性的考量。当然，前提是处于一个混乱的市场格局中，处于一个物欲横流、枭雄并起的年代。如果错过个这个村、那么就没有了那个店。

• 就是这本了

  作者：Bambus 发布时间：2007-10-31 23:38:50

  应该就是这本了。

  好久没看完一整部电影，没看完一整本书，没听够一盘喜欢的专辑，所以，在豆瓣上，始终没有新鲜的东西可以拿出来。

  但我会天天看看首页，有些评论，有些语句，真是很精彩。小人物的生活和思想，才最是有看头。经典和流芳百世，其实大部分都不是名人们创造出来的。

  然后，我今天看到了这本书。《父与子》。

  虽然版本不一样，但回忆仍然一下子就涌现出来了。

  我找了找，当年那一套四本，《父与子》就是红色那一本。从时间上看，应该不会错了。

  因为我看那本书最多的时间，是幼儿园的时候，抱着蹲在夜壶上，大号...

  所以我说，时间很重要。89年，我正好在上幼儿园。我有一套很好的这个书，四本，红，黄，紫，蓝。红色的，就是那对操蛋的老爸和小子。

  一下子就过了这么这么多年了。我看到那个老爸的发型，和那个捣蛋鬼儿子的微笑，感觉好像这已经是几百年前的事情了。我好希望能回忆起书里的内容，老爸的大肚子，儿子的鬼心思。但他们是多么被人羡慕的一对父与子。他们形影不离，就算老爸打了儿子的屁股，下一篇里，他们依旧在一起。

  那时候我没有爸爸，有一个后来成为我爸爸的人，送给了我这套书。他让我至今都很温暖。

  我抱着这本书，蹲在夜壶上，问妈妈，爸爸去哪里了。

  妈妈那时候是很艰难的。但我已经不记得这些。我的所有记忆里的爸爸，就是送书给我的那个爸爸，他和妈妈一起，把我从一个长得像小藏蛮子的胖妞，抚养成现在依旧是胖乎乎的但已经可以自己上班挣钱称得上女人的大女孩了。

  我的记忆里，从来都是那一个温暖的爸爸，加一个别人叫我叫他爸爸的爸爸，我曾经很怕看到他，只记得那些金碧辉煌的豪华巧克力，和比幼儿园里小朋友更漂亮的白色公主裙。那时候我身上好的衣服，都是他送的。还有像赛车一样的文具盒，粉红色的漆皮皮鞋，蜀都大厦顶楼的旋转餐厅，那都是别人没有的，但那些，都没有温度。

  我宁愿在家里看大红色的《父与子》，和那个以后成为我爸爸的人说话，他很会哄小孩的，他有很强的智慧。我希望我以后的不管是儿子还是女儿，都要跟他多呆在一起，打网球，小聪明，做手工，甚至修电脑修马桶，换灯泡这种小case，应该是生下来就会的。

  Blah...blah...blah...我怎么有一点点煽情了...

  还有其他三本，记得其中有一本，紫色的，我不太看得懂，于是也就很少被我拿去大号，再于是，那一本，看起来最崭新。

  日子过去这么多年了。

  居然这么多年了。