It was Will, filling the doorway with his lanky, broad-shouldred frame. His blue eyes where thunderous. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.
So much for the brief peace they had achieved the night before. "I am practicing," Cecily said. "You told me I would get no better without practice."
"Not you. Gabriel Lightworm over here." Will jerked his chin toward the other boy. "Sorry. Lightwood.

Autore: Cassandra Clare