Free Born to Endless Night by Cassandra Clare, Sarah Rees Brennan

Nephilim illegally reading Mr. Fell’s letters and invading his privacy: I am, naturally, joking. I have a very droll personality.)
    You ask how life in New York is and I can only report the usual: smelly, crowded, and populated almost entirely by maniacs. I was almost knocked over by a party of warlocks and werewolves on Bowery Street. One particular warlock was in the front, waving a glittering purple ladies’ feather boa over his head like a flag. I am so embarrassed to know him. Sometimes I pretend to other Downworlders that I do not. I hope they believe me.
    The main reason I am writing to you is, of course, so that we may continue your Spanish lessons. I enclose a fresh list of vocabulary words, and assure you that you are coming along very well. If you should ever make the terrible decision to accompany a certain badly dressed warlock of our acquaintance to Peru again, this time you will be prepared.
    Yours most sincerely,
    Raphael Santiago
    “Ragnor would not have known the Academy was going to be shut down after Valentine’s Circle attacked the Clave,” Catarina said. “He kept the letter so he could learn the Spanish, and then he was never able to come back for it. From the letter, though, it seems like they wrote to each other quite frequently. Ragnor must have burned the others, since they contained comments that would have gotten Raphael Santiago into trouble. I know Ragnor was fond of that sharp-tongued little vampire.” She leaned her cheek against Magnus’s shoulder. “I know you were, as well.”
    Magnus shut his eyes for a moment and remembered Raphael, who he had once done a favor; Raphael, who had died for him in return. He had known him when he was first turned, a snippy child with a will of iron, and known him through the years as Raphael led a vampire clan in all but name.
    Magnus had never known Ragnor when Ragnor was young. Ragnor had been older than Magnus and, by the time Magnus met him, had become perpetually cranky. Ragnor had been yelling at kids to get off his lawn before lawns were invented. He had always been kind to Magnus, willing to fall in with any of Magnus’s schemes as long as he could complain throughout while they did it.
    Still, in spite of Ragnor’s dark outlook on life in general and Shadowhunters in particular, Ragnor had been the one who came to Idris to teach Shadowhunters. Even after the Academy was closed, he had stayed in his little house outside the City of Glass and tried to teach the Nephilim who were willing to learn. He had always hoped, even when he refused to admit it.
    Ragnor and Raphael. They were both supposed to be immortal. Magnus had thought they would last forever, as he did, down the centuries, that there would always be another meeting and another chance. But they were gone, and the mortals Magnus loved lived on. It was a lesson, Magnus thought, to love while you could, love what was fragile and beautiful and imperiled. Nobody was guaranteed forever.
    Ragnor and Magnus had not gone to Peru again, and never would now. Of course, Magnus was banned from Peru, so he could not go anyway.
    “You came to the Academy for Ragnor,” Magnus said to Catarina. “For the sake of Ragnor’s dreams, to see if you could teach the Shadowhunters to change. It seems a pretty different place, this time around. Do you think you succeeded?”
    “I never thought I would,” said Catarina. “This was always Ragnor’s dream. I did it for him, and not the Shadowhunters. I always thought Ragnor teaching was foolish. You cannot teach people anything if they do not want to learn.”
    “What changed your mind?”
    “I didn’t change my mind,” said Catarina. “This time, they did want to learn. I could not have done this alone.”
    “Who helped you?” asked Magnus.
    Catarina smiled. “Our former Daylighter, Simon Lewis. He’s a sweet boy. He could have skated by on being a hero of the war, but he declared himself a member of the dregs, and he kept speaking up even