Sam took Clary's hand, hauling herself up. Her fingers were ice cold from lack of circulation, although she hadn't exactly sorted that out yet for herself. What amazed her more was how long and lovely her nails looked. She hadn't been much of a nibbler in the past, but in the last couple of weeks, she'd been trying out different nervous ticks, seeing which ones suited her.

"Well," she said cheerfully, "maybe we'll get lucky and the Inn will be booby trapped with flamethrowers or something."

No pessimism here. Not at all.

"What's the last thing you remember?"