Sarah, Cassie, Maureen all got together with us to chat about The Bane Chronicles online. Here's a snippet from Run Away Queen at the chat:
Magnus was taking an unfamiliar route, one that took him through quite a rough patch of Paris. The road here was not as smooth. It was brutally hot inside of his cabriolet as it bumped its way along. Magnus had animated one of his magnificent Chinese fans, and it flapped ineffectively at him, barely stirring the breeze. It was, if he was completely honest with himself (and he did not want to be), a bit too hot for this new striped blue and rose colored coat, made of taffeta and satin, and the silk faille waistcoat embroidered with a scene of birds and cherubs. The wing collar, and the wig, and the silk breaches, the wonderful new gloves in the most delicate lemon yellow . . . it was all a bit warm.
Still. If one could look this fabulous, one had an obligation to. One should wear everything, or one should wear nothing at all.
For some Edmund Herondale (from Vampires, Scones, and Edmund Herondale):
“Very well,” Magnus said. “Let us pause for a moment and consider—oh, you have already run off. Splendid.”
He found himself addressing Edmund’s coat, wrenched off and left in a heap upon the cobblestones, and his hat, spinning gently beside it.
Edmund jumped and somersaulted in mid-air, vaulting neatly onto the roof of the carriage. As he did so, he drew weapons from the concealing folds of his garments: the two whips he had spoken of before, arcs of sizzling light against the night sky. He wielded them with cutting precision, their light waking golden fire in his tousled hair and casting a glow on his carved features, and by that light Magnus saw his face change from a laughing boy’s to the stern countenance of an angel.
One whip curled around the demon’s waist like a gentleman’s hand around a lady’s during a waltz. The other wrapped tight as wire about his throat. Edmund twisted one hand and the demon spun, crashing to the ground.
“You heard the lady,” said Edmund. “Unhand her.”