Nothing But Shadows by Cassandra Clare Page B

patted Thomas on the back, then rescued Christopher from setting his own sleeves on fire with a candle. He gave James the candle and a smile.
    â€œIf you ever see Christopher near an open flame, take him away from it, or take it away from him,” Matthew said. “Fight the good fight with me. I must be eternally watchful.”
    â€œThat must be difficult, when surrounded by, um, your adoring public,” said James.
    â€œWell,” said Matthew, and paused, “it’s possible,” he said, and paused again, “I may have been . . . slightly showing off? ‘Look, if you don’t want to be friends with me, everybody else does, and you are making a big mistake.’ I may have been doing that. Possibly.”
    â€œIs that over?” Thomas asked. “Thank the Angel. You know large crowds of people make me nervous! You know I can never think of anything to say to them! I am not witty like you or aloof and above it all like James or living in cloud cuckoo land like Christopher. I came to the Academy to get away from being bossed by my sisters, but my sisters make me much less nervous than battering rams flying through the air and parties all the time. Can we please have some peace and quiet occasionally!”
    James stared at Thomas. “Does everybody think I’m aloof?”
    â€œNo, mostly people think you’re an unholy abomination upon this earth,” Matthew said cheerfully. “Remember?”
    Thomas looked ready to put his head back on the table, but he cheered up when he saw James had not taken offense.
    â€œWhy would that be?” Christopher asked politely.
    James stared. “Because I can turn from flesh and blood into a ghastly shadow?”
    â€œOh,” said Christopher. His dreamy lavender eyes focused for a moment. “That’s very interesting,” he told James, his voice clear. “You should let me and Uncle Henry perform many experiments on you. We could do an experiment right now.”
    â€œNo, we could not,” said Matthew. “No experiments at breakfast time. Add it to the list, Christopher.”
    Christopher sighed.
    And just like that, as if it could always have been that easy, James had friends. He liked Thomas and Christopher as much as he’d always known he would.
    Of all his new friends, though, he liked Matthew the best. Matthew always wanted to talk about the books James had read, or tell James a story as good as a book. He made obvious efforts to find James when James was not there, and obvious efforts to protect James when he was there. James did not have many nice things to write letters home about: he ended up writing letters that were full of Matthew.
    James knew Matthew probably only felt sorry for him. Matthew was always looking after Christopher and Thomas, with the same painstaking care he must have looked after his father. Matthew was kind.
    That was all right. James would absolutely have wanted to share a room with Matthew, now it was out of the question.
    â€œWhy do people call you Demon Eyes, James?” Christopher asked one day when they were sitting around a table studying Ragnor Fell’s account of the First Accords.
    â€œBecause I have golden eyes as if lit by eldritch infernal fires,” James said. He had heard a girl whispering that and thought it sounded rather poetic.
    â€œAh,” said Christopher. “Do you look at all like your grandfather aside from that? The demonic one, I mean.”
    â€œYou cannot simply ask whether people look like their demon grandfather!” Thomas wailed. “Next you will ask Professor Fell if he looks like his demon parent! Please, please do not ask Professor Fell if he looks like his demon parent. He has a cutting tongue. Also, he might cut you with a knife.”
    â€œFell?” Christopher inquired.
    â€œOur teacher,” said Matthew. “Our green teacher.”
    Christopher looked genuinely astonished. “We have a teacher