He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest.
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