Some of you may remember that in the first draft of Lady Midnight, Julian smoked to relieve stress. As the character developed, however, Cassandra Clare thought better of it, knowing Julian is not the kind of person to do something that harmful to his body around his very young siblings that look up to him. He originally smoked clove cigarettes, which is why he is described as smelling like cloves. He doesn’t smoke now, but Cassandra Clare left that part in anyway. Here is a scene with Emma and Julian that mentions Julian’s smoking that was part of the first draft of Lady Midnight.
“Em.” It was Julian. She was on the spit of sand between the Malibu Lagoon and the Pacific Ocean; Julian had parked up at the side of the PCH and was coming down the path from the highway now, watching Emma, his shoes still on. Normally, he would have waded into the water with her. “We have to get to Malcolm’s.”
She sighed and slid her gritty feet back into her sandals. “Jules.” She padded up the beach to him, laid her hand on his arm. She thought she felt a shiver go through him. “Are you going to be all right?”
He shook his head. The sunlight brought out the paler streaks of gold in his brown hair, years of salt water bleaching the strands. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I don’t need to be to go see Malcolm.”
“We need to talk about this,” Emma said. “You can’t keep it bottled up.”
“I can,” he said. “I’m good at bottling. I’m a bottle expert.”
“Fine,” Emma said. “Then I’ll be Ty and deduce you.”
He raised his eyebrows, watching her as she paced in front of him.
“You’re happy Mark’s back,” she said. “But he didn’t seem like Mark in the Sanctuary, and he didn’t recognize you. He called you your father’s name. He flinched away from you in the bedroom. You’re wondering if he’s still Mark.”
Julian’s hands tightened at his sides, knuckles whitening. “Partly. Is that crazy? Mark used to joke and laugh all the time, and I don’t know, it was only a minute but this Mark doesn’t seem like he ever even smiles …”
“Remember how we were when we came back from Idris?” she said. “After the Dark War? The nightmares, the way Tavvy cried all the time, Ty sleeping under Livvy’s bed? We were like — beaten dogs. When something terrible happens to you, you can’t expect to come right back from it. Even if you get to come home.”
He reached out a hand for her, seemed to check himself, and lowered it to tug on her braid. The way he tugged on Drusilla’s. Emma bit back a frown.
“They can’t know,” he said. “The kids. They can’t know about the deal. The conditions the Fair Folk gave us. That —“
“That they want to take Mark back?”
“Right.” He swallowed, with an effort.
“But Jules — what if Mark decides to go back with them? What if he decides not to stay?”
“He won’t,” Julian said. “I don’t care how much he’s changed, if he’s changed, he won’t do that. We just have to show him we love him and want him here. That’s all.”
His voice had lost its hesitancy and was firm, determined. She moved closer to him. He smelled like cloves. So that’s what he’d been doing in the car. Smoking. It was his one bad habit: he smoked the same clove cigarettes his father had. She’d been hoping he’d quit while he’d been gone.
“You’ve been smoking? Seriously?” she said.
He sighed. “I’m stressed out, Emma.”
“Well, you should find other things to do when you’re stressed. What do most teenaged boys do?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, but you can’t do that all day.”
He raised his eyebrows higher.
“We’re not talking about this any more,” Emma said, and marched up the beach. She could hear Julian following her, his boots crunching on the sand.