The demon exploded in a shower of ichor and guts.

William Herondale jerked the dagger he was holding back, but it was too late: the viscous acid of the demon’s blood had already begun to eat away at the shining blade. He swore and tossed the weapon aside; it landed in a filthy puddle and commenced smoldering like a doused match. The demon itself, of course, had vanished: dispatched back to whatever hell dimension it had come from, though not without leaving a mess behind.

“Jem!” Will called, turning around. “Where are you? Did you see that? I got him with one blow! Not bad, eh?”

But there was no answer to Will’s shout; his hunting partner had been standing behind him in the narrow alley a few moments ago, guarding his back, Will was positive, but now he was alone in the shadows. Will frowned in annoyance — it was much less fun showing off without Jem to show off to. Still scowling, Will headed back toward Narrow Street and the dim gleam of gaslight at the alley’s mouth.

More here

I just ordered a book written by Cassandra Clare to see if I like her writing style. This one looks interesting too.

Are you a fan of Cassandra Clare? What is your favorite book written by her?