Literature & Fiction
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Chain of Iron (2) (The Last Hours)
The Shadowhunters must catch a killer in Edwardian London in this dangerous and romantic sequel to the #1 New York Times bestselling novel Chain of Gold, from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Cassandra Clare. Chain of Iron is a Shadowhunters novel.
Cordelia Carstairs seems to have everything she ever wanted. She's engaged to marry James Herondale, the boy she has loved since childhood. She has a new life in London with her best friend Lucie Herondale and James's charming companions, the Merry Thieves. She is about to be reunited with her beloved father. And she bears the sword Cortana, a legendary hero's blade.
But the truth is far grimmer. James and Cordelia's marriage is a lie, arranged to save Cordelia's reputation. James is in love with the mysterious Grace Blackthorn whose brother, Jesse, died years ago in a terrible accident. Cortana burns Cordelia's hand when she touches it, while her father has grown bitter and angry. And a serial murderer is targeting the Shadowhunters of London, killing under cover of darkness, then vanishing without a trace.
Together with the Merry Thieves, Cordelia, James, and Lucie must follow the trail of the knife-wielding killer through the city's most dangerous streets. All the while, each is keeping a shocking secret: Lucie, that she plans to raise Jesse from the dead; Cordelia, that she has sworn a dangerous oath of loyalty to a mysterious power; and James, that he is being drawn further each night into the dark web of his grandfather, the arch-demon Belial. And that he himself may be the killer they seek.
Cordelia Carstairs seems to have everything she ever wanted. She's engaged to marry James Herondale, the boy she has loved since childhood. She has a new life in London with her best friend Lucie Herondale and James's charming companions, the Merry Thieves. She is about to be reunited with her beloved father. And she bears the sword Cortana, a legendary hero's blade.
But the truth is far grimmer. James and Cordelia's marriage is a lie, arranged to save Cordelia's reputation. James is in love with the mysterious Grace Blackthorn whose brother, Jesse, died years ago in a terrible accident. Cortana burns Cordelia's hand when she touches it, while her father has grown bitter and angry. And a serial murderer is targeting the Shadowhunters of London, killing under cover of darkness, then vanishing without a trace.
Together with the Merry Thieves, Cordelia, James, and Lucie must follow the trail of the knife-wielding killer through the city's most dangerous streets. All the while, each is keeping a shocking secret: Lucie, that she plans to raise Jesse from the dead; Cordelia, that she has sworn a dangerous oath of loyalty to a mysterious power; and James, that he is being drawn further each night into the dark web of his grandfather, the arch-demon Belial. And that he himself may be the killer they seek.
Readers Top Reviews
nkhanKindle S. Peny
I absolutely loved the second installment of the last hours series. I finished the book so quickly I was left wanting more. As with all of Cassandra Clare's books I was thoroughly immersed in all the characters. This book made me fall in love with the world of the Shadowhunters all over again. The depth and diversity of the characters is extremely refreshing. Cassandra is a genius. I cannot wait for the next installment of this series.
AHick90
Queen of Fantasy... is correct ❤ Finally the second installment of the The last hours has arrived!!!! Only been waiting almost a year for this! Beautiful display and the 10 artwork pages are STUNNING❤❤❤❤ I was hoping for the coloured character page as seen in the first, BUT I think the other art work speaks for its self. My absloute favourite series from Cassandra Clare is Infernal Devices as they are what drew me to Clare's work in the first place and The Last Hours have only added to that love ❤ I will now have to Re-read Chain of Gold and then start on Chain of Iron!
DramaMama73
Chain of Iron is the second book in The Last Hours trilogy. This trilogy is one series among a set of series by Cassandra Clare that revolve around the world of Shadowhunters. Clare has developed an extensive world of characters that all interrelate. If you are a fan of the series, you will enjoy seeing how characters from one set relate or even show up in another series. Chronologically, The Last Hours is the second series, but fourth (plus other books) in the order written. You could read this series by itself, but I recommend reading them in chronological order or written order. You cannot read this book by itself to get the full impact. Chain of Iron occurs in London in the early 1900s. It revolves around our favorite young Shadowhunters, James Herondale and his friends, also known as The Merry Thieves. We have the action of fighting demons, the romance encircling Cordelia, the mystery of Grace, and so much more! The characters are all so well developed and I am in love with all of them, except Grace, of course. The ending leaves your insides ripped out. Just when you think all is finally well, you remember that there is another book coming in this trilogy, and whatever you thought you were firmly standing on is torn to shreds as you fall into hysterical sobbing realizing the next book is a year away.
Alicia G.
Although I have yet to read the book, I will update my review once I have done so. The packaging and shipping for this book was great. It was released today and I received it today which I am very excited about. The book was undamaged by shipping and looks beautiful.
Bridgette KleinMelis
I'll admit to not being the biggest fan of Cassandra Clare's writing. She excels at bringing characters to life. She does not excel at plot development, consistency, and writing competency I would expect from a veteran writer. I have not read past the beginning of part 2 and I'm not sure I will. She name drops Magnus and Jem merely to remind readers of characters we love, but without giving them a true purpose. I think this book suffers from too much output during a pandemic. She's released three 500+ page books in about a year and you can tell this one has suffered for that.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1: The Bright Web 1 THE BRIGHT WEB
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.
The rose and poppy are her flower; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
-Dante Gabriel Rossetti, "Body's Beauty"
A smoky winter fog had settled atop the city of London, reaching its pale tendrils across the streets, wreathing the buildings in dull tinsel. It cast a gray pallor over ruined trees as Lucie Herondale drove her carriage up the long, neglected drive toward Chiswick House, its roof rising from the fog like the top of a Himalayan peak above clouds.
With a kiss on the nose and a blanket over his withers, she left her horse, Balios, at the foot of the front steps and set off through the remains of the terraced garden. She passed the cracked and ruined statues of Virgil and Sophocles, now overgrown by long tendrils of vines, their limbs broken off and lying among the weeds. Other statues were partially hidden by overhanging trees and unpruned hedges, as if they were being devoured by the dense foliage.
Picking her way over a toppled rose arbor, Lucie finally reached the old brick shed in the garden. Its roof was long since gone; Lucie felt a bit as if she'd come across an abandoned shepherd's hut on the moors. A thin finger of gray smoke was even rising from within. If this were The Beautiful Cordelia, a mad but handsome duke would come staggering across the heath, but nothing ever happened as it did in books.
All around the shed she could see small mounds of earth where over the past four months, she and Grace had buried the unsuccessful results of their experimentation-the unfortunate bodies of fallen birds or cat-slain rats and mice that they had tried over and over to bring back to life.
Nothing had worked yet. And Grace didn't even know all of it. She remained unaware of Lucie's power to command the dead. She did not know that Lucie had tried ordering the small bodies to come back to life, had tried reaching within them to catch at something she could draw into the world of the living. But it had never worked. Whatever part of them Lucie might have been able to command had fled with their deaths.
She had mentioned none of that to Grace.
Lucie gave a philosophic shrug and went up to the massive wooden slab of a door-she did sometimes question what the point was of having a door on a building that didn't have any roof-and tapped a coded pattern: one two, one two.
Instantly she heard someone crossing the floor and turning the bolt, and the door swung open. Grace Blackthorn stood in the doorway, her face set and serious. Even in the foggy weather, her hair, loose around her shoulders, glinted silvery bright. "You've come," she said, sounding more surprised than pleased.
"I said I would." Lucie pushed past Grace. The shed had a single room inside with a floor of packed earth, now partly frozen.
A table had been pushed against the wall under the Blackthorn family sword, which hung from coarsely forged iron hooks. On the table a makeshift laboratory had been constructed: there were rows of alembics and glass bottles, a mortar and pestle, and dozens of test tubes. An assortment of packets and tins took up the rest of the table, some lying open, others emptied and collected in a pile.
Next to the table was a fire that had been laid directly on the ground, the source of the smoke escaping from the missing roof. The fire was unnaturally silent, emanating not from wood logs but from a mound of stones, its greenish flames licking greedily upward as though seeking to consume the iron cauldron suspended from a hook above it. The cauldron held a simmering black brew that smelled earthy and chemical at the same time.
Lucie approached a second, larger table slowly. On it rested a coffin. Through its glass lid she could see Jesse, exactly as he'd appeared when they were last together-white shirt, black hair lying soft against the nape of his neck. His eyelids were pale half-moons.
She had not confined herself to birds and bats and mice. She had tried commanding Jesse to come back to life too, though she had been able to do it only during the short periods when Grace had gone to fetch something and left her alone with Jesse...
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.
The rose and poppy are her flower; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
-Dante Gabriel Rossetti, "Body's Beauty"
A smoky winter fog had settled atop the city of London, reaching its pale tendrils across the streets, wreathing the buildings in dull tinsel. It cast a gray pallor over ruined trees as Lucie Herondale drove her carriage up the long, neglected drive toward Chiswick House, its roof rising from the fog like the top of a Himalayan peak above clouds.
With a kiss on the nose and a blanket over his withers, she left her horse, Balios, at the foot of the front steps and set off through the remains of the terraced garden. She passed the cracked and ruined statues of Virgil and Sophocles, now overgrown by long tendrils of vines, their limbs broken off and lying among the weeds. Other statues were partially hidden by overhanging trees and unpruned hedges, as if they were being devoured by the dense foliage.
Picking her way over a toppled rose arbor, Lucie finally reached the old brick shed in the garden. Its roof was long since gone; Lucie felt a bit as if she'd come across an abandoned shepherd's hut on the moors. A thin finger of gray smoke was even rising from within. If this were The Beautiful Cordelia, a mad but handsome duke would come staggering across the heath, but nothing ever happened as it did in books.
All around the shed she could see small mounds of earth where over the past four months, she and Grace had buried the unsuccessful results of their experimentation-the unfortunate bodies of fallen birds or cat-slain rats and mice that they had tried over and over to bring back to life.
Nothing had worked yet. And Grace didn't even know all of it. She remained unaware of Lucie's power to command the dead. She did not know that Lucie had tried ordering the small bodies to come back to life, had tried reaching within them to catch at something she could draw into the world of the living. But it had never worked. Whatever part of them Lucie might have been able to command had fled with their deaths.
She had mentioned none of that to Grace.
Lucie gave a philosophic shrug and went up to the massive wooden slab of a door-she did sometimes question what the point was of having a door on a building that didn't have any roof-and tapped a coded pattern: one two, one two.
Instantly she heard someone crossing the floor and turning the bolt, and the door swung open. Grace Blackthorn stood in the doorway, her face set and serious. Even in the foggy weather, her hair, loose around her shoulders, glinted silvery bright. "You've come," she said, sounding more surprised than pleased.
"I said I would." Lucie pushed past Grace. The shed had a single room inside with a floor of packed earth, now partly frozen.
A table had been pushed against the wall under the Blackthorn family sword, which hung from coarsely forged iron hooks. On the table a makeshift laboratory had been constructed: there were rows of alembics and glass bottles, a mortar and pestle, and dozens of test tubes. An assortment of packets and tins took up the rest of the table, some lying open, others emptied and collected in a pile.
Next to the table was a fire that had been laid directly on the ground, the source of the smoke escaping from the missing roof. The fire was unnaturally silent, emanating not from wood logs but from a mound of stones, its greenish flames licking greedily upward as though seeking to consume the iron cauldron suspended from a hook above it. The cauldron held a simmering black brew that smelled earthy and chemical at the same time.
Lucie approached a second, larger table slowly. On it rested a coffin. Through its glass lid she could see Jesse, exactly as he'd appeared when they were last together-white shirt, black hair lying soft against the nape of his neck. His eyelids were pale half-moons.
She had not confined herself to birds and bats and mice. She had tried commanding Jesse to come back to life too, though she had been able to do it only during the short periods when Grace had gone to fetch something and left her alone with Jesse...
