THORNS. BAD ANGELS

THORNS

Simon was waiting for Clary, Alec, and Isabelle outside the Institute, under an overhang of stone that only just protected him from the worst of the rain. He turned as they came out through the doors, and Clary saw that his dark hair was pasted to his forehead and neck. He pushed it back and looked at her, a question in his eyes.

“I’m cleared, ” she said, and as he started to smile, she shook her head. “But they’re de‑ prioritizing the search for Jace. I–I’m pretty sure they think he’s dead. ”

Simon looked down at his wet jeans and T‑ shirt (a wrinkled gray ringer tee that said CLEARLY I HAVE MADE SOME BAD DECISIONS on the front in block lettering). He shook his head. “I’m sorry. ”

“The Clave can be like that, ” Isabelle said. “I guess we shouldn’t have expected anything else. ”

“Basia coquum, ” Simon said. “Or whatever their motto is. ”

“It’s ‘Descensus Averno facilis est. ’ ‘The descent into hell is easy, ’” said Alec. “You just said “Kiss the cook. ”

“Dammit, ” said Simon. “I knew Jace was screwing with me. ” His wet brown hair fell back into his eyes; he flicked it away with a gesture impatient enough that Clary caught a flashing glimpse of the silvery Mark of Cain on his forehead. “Now what? ”

“Now we go see the Seelie Queen, ” said Clary. As she touched the bell at her throat, she explained to Simon about Kaelie’s visit to Luke and Jocelyn’s reception, and her promises to Clary about the Seelie Queen’s help.

Simon looked dubious. “The red‑ headed lady with the bad attitude who made you kiss Jace? I didn’t like her. ”

“That’s what you remember about her? That she made Clary kiss Jace? ” Isabelle sounded annoyed. “The Seelie Queen is dangerous. She was just playing around that time. Usually she likes to drive at least a few humans to screaming madness every day before breakfast. ”

“I’m not human, ” Simon said. “Not anymore. ” He looked at Isabelle only briefly, dropped his gaze, and turned to Clary. “You want me with you? ”

“I think it would be good to have you there. Daylighter, Mark of Cain – some things have to impress even the Queen. ”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, ” said Alec.

Clary glanced past him and asked, “Where’s Magnus? ”

“He said it would be better if he didn’t come. Apparently he and the Seelie Queen have some kind of history. ”

Isabelle raised her eyebrows.

“Not that kind of history, ” said Alec irritably. “Some kind of feud. Though, ” he added, half under his breath, “the way he got around before me, I wouldn’t be surprised. ”

“Alec! ” Isabelle dropped back to talk to her brother, and Clary opened her umbrella with a snap. It was one Simon had bought her years ago at the Museum of Natural History and had a pattern of dinosaurs on the top. She saw his expression change to one of amusement as he recognized it.

“Shall we walk? ” he inquired, and offered his arm.

The rain was coming down steadily, creating small rills out of the gutters and splashing water up from the wheels of passing taxis. It was odd, Simon thought, that although he didn’t feel cold, the sensation of being wet and clammy was still irritating. He shifted his gaze slightly, looking at Alec and Isabelle over his shoulder; Isabelle hadn’t really met his eyes since they’d come out of the Institute, and he wondered what she was thinking. She seemed to want to talk to her brother, and as they paused at the corner of Park Avenue, he heard her say, “So, what do you think? About Dad putting his name in for the Inquisitor position. ”

“I think it sounds like a boring job. ” Isabelle was holding an umbrella. It was clear plastic, decorated with decals of colorful flowers. It was one of the girliest things Simon had ever seen, and he didn’t blame Alec for ducking out from under it and taking his chances with the rain. “I don’t know why he’d want it. ”

“I don’t care if it’s boring, ” Isabelle whisper‑ hissed. “If he takes it, he’ll be in Idris all the time. Like, all the time. He can’t run the Institute and be the Inquisitor. He can’t have two jobs at once. ”

“If you’ve noticed, Iz, he’s in Idris all the time anyway. ”

“Alec–” The rest of what she said was lost as the light changed and traffic surged forward, spraying icy water up onto the pavement. Clary dodged a geyser of it and nearly knocked into Simon. He took her hand to steady her.

“Sorry, ” she said. Her hand felt small and cold in his. “Wasn’t really paying attention. ”

“I know. ” He tried to keep the worry out of his voice. She hadn’t really been “paying attention” to anything for the past two weeks. At first she’d cried, and then been angry – angry that she couldn’t join the patrols looking for Jace, angry at the Council’s endless grilling, angry that she was being kept virtually a prisoner at home because she was under suspicion from the Clave. Most of all she’d been angry at herself for not being able to come up with a rune that would help. She would sit at her desk at night for hours, her stele clutched so tightly in whitening fingers that Simon was afraid it would snap in half. She’d try to force her mind to present her with a picture that would tell her where Jace was. But night after night nothing happened.

She looked older, he thought as they entered the park through a gap in the stone wall on Fifth Avenue. Not in a bad way, but she was different from the girl she’d been when they had walked into the Pandemonium Club on that night that had changed everything. She was taller, but it was more than that. Her expression was more serious, there was more grace and force in the way she walked, her green eyes were less dancing, more focused. She was starting to look, he realized with a jolt of surprise, like Jocelyn.

Clary paused in a circle of dripping trees; the branches blocked most of the rain here, and Isabelle and Clary leaned their umbrellas against the trunks of nearby trees. Clary unclasped the chain around her neck and let the bell slide into her palm. She looked around at all of them, her expression serious. “This is a risk, ” she said, “and I’m pretty sure if I take it, I can’t go back from it. So if any of you don’t want to come with me, it’s all right. I’ll understand. ”

Simon reached out and put his hand over hers. There was no need to think. Where Clary went, he went. They had been through too much for it to be any other way. Isabelle followed suit, and lastly Alec; rain dripped off his long black lashes like tears, but his expression was resolute. The four of them held hands tightly.

Clary rang the bell.

There was a sensation as if the world were spinning – not the same sensation as being flung through a Portal, Clary thought, into the heart of a maelstrom, but more as if she were sitting on a merry‑ go‑ round that had begun to spin faster and faster. She was dizzy and gasping when the sensation stopped suddenly and she was standing still again, her hand clasped with Isabelle’s, Alec’s, and Simon’s.

They released one another, and Clary glanced around. She had been here before, in this dark brown, shining corridor that looked as if it had been carved out of a tiger’s eye gemstone. The floor was smooth, worn down by the passage of thousands of years’ worth of faerie feet. Light came from glinting chips of gold in the walls, and at the end of the passage was a multicolored curtain that swayed back and forth as if moved by wind, though there was no wind here underground. As Clary drew near to it, she saw that it was sewed out of butterflies. Some of them were still alive, and their struggles made the curtain flutter as if in a stiff breeze.

She swallowed back the acid taste in her throat. “Hello? ” she called. “Is anyone there? ”

The curtain rustled aside, and the faerie knight Meliorn stepped out into the hallway. He wore the white armor Clary remembered, but there was a sigil over his left breast now – the four C s that also decorated Luke’s Council robes, marking him as a member. There was a scar, also, on Meliorn’s face that was new, just under his leaf‑ colored eyes. He regarded her frigidly. “One does not greet the Queen of the Seelie Court with the barbarous human ‘hello, ’” he said, “as if you were hailing a servant. The proper address is ‘Well met. ’”

“But we haven’t met, ” said Clary. “I don’t even know if she’s here. ”

Meliorn looked at her with scorn. “If the Queen were not present and ready to receive you, ringing the bell would not have brought you. Now come: follow me, and bring your companions with you. ”

Clary turned to gesture at the others, then followed Meliorn through the curtain of tortured butterflies, hunching her shoulders in the hopes that no part of their wings would touch her.

One by one the four of them stepped into the Queen’s chamber. Clary blinked in surprise. It looked entirely different from how it had the last time she’d been here. The Queen reclined on a white and gold divan, and all around her stretched a floor made of alternating squares of black and white, like a great checkerboard. Strings of dangerous‑ looking thorns hung from the ceiling, and on each thorn was impaled a will‑ o’‑ the‑ wisp, its normally blinding light flickering as it died. The room shimmered in their glow.

Meliorn went to stand beside the Queen; other than him the room was empty of courtiers. Slowly the Queen sat up straight. She was as beautiful as ever, her dress a diaphanous mixture of silver and gold, her hair like rosy copper as she arranged it gently over one white shoulder. Clary wondered why she was bothering. Of all of them there, the only one likely to be moved by her beauty was Simon, and he hated her.

“Well met, Nephilim, Daylighter, ” she said, inclining her head in their direction. “Daughter of Valentine, what brings you to me? ”

Clary opened her hand. The bell shone there like an accusation. “You sent your handmaiden to tell me to ring this if I ever needed your help. ”

“And you told me you wanted nothing from me, ” said the Queen. “That you had everything you desired. ”

Clary thought back desperately to what Jace had said when they had had an audience with the Queen before, how he had flattered and charmed her. It was as if he had suddenly acquired a whole new vocabulary. She glanced back over her shoulder at Isabelle and Alec, but Isabelle only made an irritable motion at her, indicating that she should keep going.

“Things change, ” Clary said.

The Queen stretched her legs out luxuriously. “Very well. What is it you want from me? ”

“I want you to find Jace Lightwood. ”

In the silence that followed, the sound of the will‑ o’‑ the‑ wisps, crying in their agony, was softly audible. At last the Queen said, “You must think us powerful indeed if you believe the Fair Folk can succeed where the Clave has failed. ”

“The Clave wants to find Sebastian. I don’t care about Sebastian. I want Jace, ” Clary said. “Besides, I already know you know more than you’re letting on. You predicted this would happen. No one else knew, but I don’t believe you sent me that bell when you did – the same night Jace disappeared – without knowing something was brewing. ”

“Perhaps I did, ” said the Queen, admiring her shimmering toenails.

“I’ve noticed the Fair Folk often say ‘perhaps ’ when there is a truth they want to hide, ” Clary said. “It keeps you from having to give a straight answer. ”

“Perhaps so, ” said the Queen with an amused smile.

“‘Mayhap’ is a good word too, ” Alec suggested.

“Also ‘perchance, ’” Izzy said.

“I see nothing wrong with ‘maybe, ’” said Simon. “A little modern, but the gist of the idea comes across. ”

The Queen waved away their words as if they were annoying bees buzzing around her head. “I do not trust you, Valentine’s daughter, ” she said. “There was a time I wanted a favor from you, but that time is over. Meliorn has his place on the Council. I am not sure there is anything you can offer me. ”

“If you thought that, ” said Clary, “you never would have sent the bell. ”

For a moment their eyes locked. The Queen was beautiful, but there was something behind her face, something that made Clary think of the bones of a small animal, whitening in the sun. At last the Queen said, “Very well. I may be able to help you. But I will desire recompense. ”

“Shocker, ” Simon muttered. He had his hands jammed into his pockets and was looking at the Queen with loathing.

Alec laughed.

The Queen’s eyes flashed. A moment later Alec staggered back with a cry. He was holding his hands out before him, gaping, as the skin on them wrinkled and his hands curved inward, bent, the joints swollen. His back hunched, his hair graying, his blue eyes fading and sinking into deep wrinkles. Clary gasped. Where Alec had been, an old man, bent and white‑ haired, stood trembling.

“How swift mortal loveliness does fade, ” the Queen gloated. “Look at yourself, Alexander Lightwood. I give you a glimpse of yourself in a mere threescore years. What will your warlock lover say then of your beauty? ”

Alec’s chest was heaving. Isabelle stepped quickly to his side and took his arm. “Alec, it’s nothing. It’s a glamour. ” She turned on the Queen. “Take it off him! Take it off! ”

“If you and yours will speak to me with more respect, then I might consider it. ”

“We will, ” Clary said quickly. “We apologize for any rudeness. ”

The Queen sniffed. “I rather miss your Jace, ” she said. “Of all of you, he was the prettiest and the best‑ mannered. ”

“We miss him too, ” said Clary in a low voice. “We didn’t mean to be ill‑ mannered. We humans can be difficult in our grief. ”

“Hmph, ” said the Queen, but she snapped her fingers and the glamour fell from Alec. He was himself again, though white‑ faced and stunned‑ looking. The Queen shot him a superior look, and turned her attention to Clary.

“There is a set of rings, ” said the Queen. “They belonged to my father. I desire the return of these objects, for they are faerie‑ made and possess great power. They allow us to speak to one another, mind to mind, as your Silent Brothers do. At present I have it on good authority that they are on display in the Institute. ”

“I remember seeing something like that, ” Izzy said slowly. “Two faerie‑ work rings in a glass case on the second floor of the library. ”

“You want me to steal something from the Institute? ” Clary said, surprised. Of all the favors she might have guessed the Queen would ask for, this one wasn’t high on the list.

“It is not theft, ” said the Queen, “to return an item to its rightful owners. ”

“And then you’ll find Jace for us? ” said Clary. “And don’t say ‘perhaps. ’ What will you do exactly? ”

“I will assist you in finding him, ” said the Queen. “I give you my word that my help would be invaluable. I can tell you, for instance, why all of your tracking spells have been for naught. I can tell you in what city he is most likely to be found–”

“But the Clave questioned you, ” interrupted Simon. “How did you lie to them? ”

“They never asked the correct questions. ”

“Why lie to them? ” demanded Isabelle. “Where is your allegiance in all this? ”

“I have none. Jonathan Morgenstern could be a powerful ally if I do not make him an enemy first. Why endanger him or earn his ire at no benefit to ourselves? The Fair Folk are an old people; we do not make hasty decisions but first wait to see in what direction the wind blows. ”

“But these rings mean enough to you that if we get them, you’ll risk making him angry? ” Alec asked.

But the Queen only smiled, a lazy smile, ripe with promise. “I think that is quite enough for today, ” she said. “Return to me with the rings and we will speak again. ”

Clary hesitated, turning to look at Alec, and then Isabelle. “You’re all right with this? Stealing from the Institute? ”

“If it means finding Jace, ” Isabelle said.

Alec nodded. “Whatever it takes. ”

Clary turned back to the Queen, who was watching her with an expectant gaze. “Then, I think we have ourselves a bargain. ”

The Queen stretched and gave a contented smile. “Fare thee well, little Shadowhunters. And a word of warning, though you have done nothing to deserve it. You might well consider the wisdom of this hunt for your friend. For as is often the happenstance with that which is precious and lost, when you find him again, he may well not be quite as you left him. ”

It was nearly eleven when Alec reached the front door of Magnus’s apartment in Greenpoint. Isabelle had persuaded Alec to come to Taki’s for dinner with Clary and Simon, and though he had protested, he was glad he had. He had needed a few hours to settle his emotions after what had happened in the Seelie Court. He did not want Magnus to see how badly the Queen’s glamour had shaken him.

He no longer had to ring the bell for Magnus to buzz him upstairs. He had a key, a fact he was obscurely proud of. He unlocked the door and headed upstairs, passing Magnus’s first‑ floor neighbor as he did so. Though Alec had never seen the occupants of the first‑ floor loft, they seemed to be engaged in a tempestuous romance. Once there had been a bunch of someone’s belongings strewn all over the landing with a note attached to a jacket lapel addressed to “A lying liar who lies. ” Right now there was a bouquet of flowers taped to the door with a card tucked among the blooms that read I’M SORRY. That was the thing about New York: you always knew more about your neighbors’ business than you wanted to.

Magnus’s door was cracked slightly open, and the sounds of music playing softly wafted out into the hall. Today it was Tchaikovsky. Alec felt his shoulders relax as the door of the apartment shut behind him. He could never be quite sure how the place was going to look – it was minimalist right now, with white couches, red stacking tables, and stark black‑ and‑ white photos of Paris on the walls – but it had begun to feel increasingly familiar, like home. It smelled like the things he associated with Magnus: ink, cologne, Lapsang Souchong tea, the burned‑ sugar smell of magic. He scooped up Chairman Meow, who was dozing on a windowsill, and made his way into the study.

Magnus looked up as Alec came in. He was wearing what for Magnus was a somber ensemble – jeans and a black T‑ shirt with rivets around the collar and cuffs. His black hair was down, messy and tangled as if he’d run his hands through it multiple times in annoyance, and his cat’s eyes were heavy‑ lidded with tiredness. He dropped his pen when Alec appeared, and grinned. “The Chairman likes you. ”

“He likes anyone who scratches behind his ears, ” Alec said, shifting the dozing cat so that his purring seemed to rumble through Alec’s chest.

Magnus leaned back in his chair, the muscles in his arms flexing as he yawned. The table was strewn with pieces of paper covered in small, cramped handwriting and drawings – the same pattern over and over, variations on the design that had been splattered across the floor of the rooftop from which Jace had disappeared. “How was the Seelie Queen? ”

“Same as usual. ”

“Raging bitch, then? ”

“Pretty much. ” Alec gave Magnus the condensed version of what had happened in the faerie court. He was good at that – keeping things short, not a word wasted. He never understood people who chattered on incessantly, or even Jace’s love of overcomplicated wordplay.

“I worry about Clary, ” said Magnus. “I worry she’s getting in over her little red head. ”

Alec set Chairman Meow down on the table, where he promptly curled up into a ball and went back to sleep. “She wants to find Jace. Can you blame her? ”

Magnus’s eyes softened. He hooked a finger into the top of Alec’s jeans and pulled him closer. “Are you saying you’d do the same thing if it were me? ”

Alec turned his face away, glancing at the paper Magnus had just set aside. “You looking at these again? ”

Looking a little disappointed, Magnus let Alec go. “There’s got to be a key, ” he said. “To unlocking them. Some language I haven’t looked at yet. Something ancient. This is old black magic, very dark, not like anything I’ve ever seen before. ” He looked at the paper again, his head tilted to the side. “Can you hand me that snuffbox over there? The silver one, on the edge of the table. ”

Alec followed the line of Magnus’s gesture and saw a small silver box perched on the opposite side of the big wooden table. He reached over and picked it up. It was like a miniature metal chest set on small feet, with a curved top and the initials W. S. picked out in diamonds across the top.

W, he thought. Will?

Will, Magnus had said when Alec had asked him about the name Camille had taunted him with. Dear God, that was a long time ago.

Alec bit his lip. “What is this? ”

“It’s a snuffbox, ” said Magnus, not looking up from his papers. “I told you. ”

“Snuff? As in snuffing people out? ” Alec eyed it.

Magnus looked up and laughed. “As in tobacco. It was very popular around the seventeenth, eighteenth century. Now I use the box to keep odds and ends in. ”

He held out his hand, and Alec gave the box up. “Do you ever wonder, ” Alec began, and then started again. “Does it bother you that Camille’s out there somewhere? That she got away? ” And that it was my fault? Alec thought but didn’t say. There was no need for Magnus to know.

“She’s always been out there somewhere, ” said Magnus. “I know the Clave isn’t terribly pleased, but I’m used to imagining her living her life, not contacting me. If it ever bothered me, it hasn’t in a long time. ”

“But you did love her. Once. ”

Magnus ran his fingers over the diamond insets in the snuffbox. “I thought I did. ”

“Does she still love you? ”

“I don’t think so, ” Magnus said dryly. “She wasn’t very pleasant the last time I saw her. Of course that could be because I’ve got an eighteen‑ year‑ old boyfriend with a stamina rune and she doesn’t. ”

Alec sputtered. “As the person being objectified, I… object to that description of me. ”

“She always was the jealous type. ” Magnus grinned. He was awfully good at changing the subject, Alec thought. Magnus had made it clear that he didn’t like talking about his past love life, but somewhere during their conversation, Alec’s sense of familiarity and comfort, his feeling of being at home, had vanished. No matter how young Magnus looked – and right now, barefoot, with his hair sticking up, he looked about eighteen – uncrossable oceans of time divided them.

Magnus opened the box, took out some tacks, and used them to fix the paper he had been looking at to the table. When he glanced up and saw Alec’s expression, he did a double take. “Are you okay? ”

Instead of replying, Alec reached down and took Magnus’s hands. Magnus let Alec pull him to his feet, a questioning look in his eyes. Before he could say anything, Alec drew him closer and kissed him. Magnus made a soft, pleased sound, and gripped the back of Alec’s shirt, rucking it up, his fingers cool on Alec’s spine. Alec leaned into him, pinning Magnus between the table and his own body. Not that Magnus seemed to mind.

“Come on, ” Alec said against Magnus’s ear. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed. ”

Magnus bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder at the papers on the table, his gaze fixed on ancient syllables in forgotten languages. “Why don’t you go on ahead? ” he said. “I’ll join you – five minutes. ”

“Sure. ” Alec straightened up, knowing that when Magnus was deep in his studies, five minutes could easily become five hours. “I’ll see you there. ”

“Shhh. ”

Clary put her finger to her lips before motioning for Simon to go before her through the front door of Luke’s house. All the lights were off, and the living room was dark and silent. She shooed Simon toward her room and headed into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Halfway there she froze.

Her mother’s voice was audible down the hall. Clary could hear the strain in it. Just like losing Jace was Clary’s worst nightmare, she knew that her mother was living her worst nightmare too. Knowing that her son was alive and out there in the world, capable of anything, was ripping her apart from the inside out.

“But they cleared her, Jocelyn, ” Clary overheard Luke reply, his voice dipping in and out of a whisper. “There won’t be any punishment. ”

“All of it is my fault. ” Jocelyn sounded muffled, as if she had buried her head against Luke’s shoulder. “If I hadn’t brought that… creature into the world, Clary wouldn’t be going through this now. ”

“You couldn’t have known…” Luke’s voice faded off into a murmur, and though Clary knew he was right, she had a brief, guilty flash of rage against her mother. Jocelyn should have killed Sebastian in his crib before he’d ever had a chance to grow up and ruin all their lives, she thought, and was instantly horrified at herself for thinking it. She turned and swung back toward the other end of the house, darting into her bedroom and closing the door behind her as if she were being followed.

Simon, who had been sitting on the bed playing with his DS, looked up at her in surprise. “Everything okay? ”

She tried to smile at him. He was a familiar sight in this room – they’d slept over at Luke’s often enough when they were growing up. She’d done what she could to make this room hers instead of a spare room. Photos of herself and Simon, the Lightwoods, herself with Jace and with her family, were stuck haphazardly into the frame of the mirror over the dresser. Luke had given her a drawing board, and her art supplies were sorted neatly into a stack of cubbyholes beside it. She had tacked up posters of her favorite animes: Fullmetal Alchemist, Rurouni Kenshin, Bleach.

Evidence of her Shadowhunter life lay scattered about as well – a fat copy of The Shadowhunter’s Codex with her notes and drawings scribbled into the margins, a shelf of books on the occult and paranormal, her stele atop her desk, and a new globe, given to her by Luke, that showed Idris, bordered in gold, in the center of Europe.

And Simon, sitting in the middle of her bed, cross‑ legged, was one of the few things that belonged both to her old life and her new one. He looked at her with his eyes dark in his pale face, the glimmer of the Mark of Cain barely visible on his forehead.

“My mom, ” she said, and leaned against the door. “She’s really not doing well. ”

“Isn’t she relieved? I mean about you being cleared? ”

“She can’t get past thinking about Sebastian. She can’t get past blaming herself. ”

“It wasn’t her fault, the way he turned out. It was Valentine’s. ”

Clary said nothing. She was recalling the awful thing she had just thought, that her mother should have killed Sebastian when he was born.

“Both of you, ” said Simon, “blame yourselves for things that aren’t your fault. You blame yourself for leaving Jace on the roof–”

She jerked her head up and looked at him sharply. She wasn’t aware she’d ever said she blamed herself for that, though she did. “I never–”

“You do, ” he said. “But I left him, Izzy left him, Alec left him – and Alec’s his parabatai. There’s no way we could have known. And it might have been worse if you’d stayed. ”

“Maybe. ” Clary didn’t want to talk about it. Avoiding Simon’s gaze, she headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and pull on her fuzzy pajamas. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror. She hated how pale she looked, the shadows under her eyes. She was strong; she wasn’t going to fall apart. She had a plan. Even if it was a little insane, and involved robbing the Institute.

She brushed her teeth and was pulling her wavy hair back into a ponytail as she left the bathroom, just catching Simon slipping back into his messenger bag a bottle of what was almost surely the blood he’d bought at Taki’s.

She came forward and ruffled his hair. “You can keep the bottles in the fridge, you know, ” she said. “If you don’t like it room temperature. ”

“Ice‑ cold blood is worse than room temperature, actually. Warm is best, but I think your mom would balk at me heating it up in saucepans. ”

“Does Jordan care? ” Clary asked, wondering if in fact Jordan even still remembered Simon lived with him. Simon had been at her house every night for the past week. In the first few days after Jace had disappeared, she hadn’t been able to sleep. She had piled five blankets over herself, but she’d been unable to get warm. Shivering, she would lie awake imagining her veins sluggish with frozen blood, ice crystals weaving a coral‑ like shining net around her heart. Her dreams were full of black seas and ice floes and frozen lakes and Jace, his face always hidden from her by shadows or a breath of cloud or his own shining hair as he turned away from her. She would fall asleep for minutes at a time, always waking up with a sick drowning feeling.

The first day the Council had interrogated her, she’d come home and crawled into bed. She’d lain there wide awake until there’d been a knock on her window and Simon had crawled inside, nearly tumbling onto the floor. He’d climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside her without a word. His skin had been cold from the outside, and he’d smelled like city air and oncoming winter chill.

She had touched her shoulder to his, dissolving a tiny part of the tension that clamped her body like a clenched fist. His hand had been cold, but it had been familiar, like the texture of his corduroy jacket against her arm.

“How long can you stay? ” she had whispered into the darkness.

“As long as you want. ”

She’d turned on her side to look at him. “Won’t Izzy mind? ”

“She’s the one who told me I should come over here. She said you weren’t sleeping, and if having me with you will make you feel better, I can stay. Or I could just stay until you fall asleep. ”

Clary had exhaled her relief. “Stay all night, ” she’d said. “Please. ”

He had. That night she had had no bad dreams.

As long as he was there, her sleep was dreamless and blank, a dark ocean of nothingness. A painless oblivion.

“Jordan doesn’t really care about the blood, ” Simon said now. “His whole thing is about me being comfortable with what I am. Get in touch with your inner vampire, blah, blah. ”

Clary slid next to him onto the bed and hugged a pillow. “Is your inner vampire different from your… outer vampire? ”

“Definitely. He wants me to wear midriff‑ baring shirts and a fedora. I’m fighting it. ”

Clary smiled faintly. “So your inner vampire is Magnus? ”

“Wait, that reminds me. ” Simon dug around in his messenger bag and produced two volumes of manga. He waved them triumphantly before handing them to Clary. “Magical Love Gentleman volumes fifteen and sixteen, ” he said. “Sold out everywhere but Midtown Comics. ”

She picked them up, looking at the colorful back‑ to‑ front covers. Once upon a time she would have waved her arms in fangirl joy; now it was all she could do to smile at Simon and thank him, but he had done it for her, she reminded herself, the gesture of a good friend. Even if she couldn’t even imagine distracting herself with reading right now. “You’re awesome, ” she said, bumping him with her shoulder. She lay down against the pillows, the manga books balanced on her lap. “And thanks for coming with me to the Seelie Court. I know it brings up sucky memories for you, but – I’m always better when you’re there. ”

“You did great. Handled the Queen like a pro. ” Simon lay down next to her, their shoulders touching, both of them looking up at the ceiling, the familiar cracks in it, the old glow‑ in‑ the‑ dark paste‑ on stars that no longer shed light. “So you’re going to do it? Steal the rings for the Queen? ”

“Yes. ” She let out her held breath. “Tomorrow. There’s a local Conclave meeting at noon. Everyone’ll be in it. I’m going in then. ”

“I don’t like it, Clary. ”

She felt her body tighten. “Don’t like what? ”

“You having anything to do with faeries. Faeries are liars. ”

“They can’t lie. ”

“You know what I mean. ‘Faeries are misleaders’ sounds lame, though. ”

She turned her head and looked at him, her chin against his collarbone. His arm came up automatically and circled her shoulders, pulling her against him. His body was cool, his shirt still damp from the rain. His usually stick‑ straight hair had dried in windblown curls. “Believe me, I don’t like getting mixed up with the Court. But I’d do it for you, ” she said. “And you’d do it for me, wouldn’t you? ”

“Of course I would. But it’s still a bad idea. ” He turned his head and looked at her. “I know how you feel. When my father died–”

Her body tightened. “Jace isn’t dead. ”

“I know. I wasn’t saying that. It’s just – You don’t need to say you’re better when I’m there. I’m always there with you. Grief makes you feel alone, but you’re not. I know you don’t believe in – in religion – the same way I do, but you can believe you’re surrounded by people who love you, can’t you? ” His eyes were wide, hopeful. They were the same dark brown they had always been, but different now, as if another layer had been added to their color, the same way his skin seemed both poreless and translucent at the same time.

I believe it, she thought. I’m just not sure it matters. She knocked her shoulder gently against his again. “So, do you mind if I ask you something? It’s personal but important. ”

A note of wariness crept into his voice. “What is it? ”

“With the whole Mark of Cain thing, does that mean if I accidentally kick you during the night, I get kicked in the shins seven times by an invisible force? ”

She felt him laugh. “Go to sleep, Fray. ”

BAD ANGELS

“Man, I thought you’d forgotten you lived here, ” Jordan said the moment Simon walked into the living room of their small apartment, his keys still dangling in his hand. Jordan was usually to be found sprawled out on their futon, his long legs dangling over the side, the controller for their Xbox in his hand. Today he was on the futon, but he was sitting up straight, his broad shoulders hunched forward, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the controller nowhere to be seen. He sounded relieved to see Simon, and in a moment Simon realized why.

Jordan wasn’t alone in the apartment. Sitting across from him in a nubbly orange velvet armchair – none of Jordan’s furniture matched – was Maia, her wildly curling hair contained in two braids. The last time Simon had seen her, she’d been glamorously dressed for a party. Now she was back in uniform: jeans with frayed cuffs, a long‑ sleeved T‑ shirt, and a caramel leather jacket. She looked as uncomfortable as Jordan did, her back straight, her gaze straying to the window. When she saw Simon, she clambered gratefully to her feet and gave him a hug. “Hey, ” she said. “I just stopped by to see how you were doing. ”

“I’m fine. I mean, as fine as I could be with everything going on. ”

“I didn’t mean about the whole Jace thing, ” she said. “I meant about you. How are you holding up? ”

“Me? ” Simon was startled. “I’m all right. Worried about Isabelle and Clary. You know the Clave was investigating her–”

“And I heard she got cleared. That’s good. ” Maia let him go. “But I was thinking about you. And what happened with your mom. ”

“How did you know about that? ” Simon shot Jordan a look, but Jordan shook his head, almost imperceptibly. He hadn’t told.

Maia pulled on a braid. “I ran into Eric, of all people. He told me what happened and that you’d backed out of Millenium Lint’s gigs for the past two weeks because of it. ”

“Actually, they changed their name, ” Jordan said. “They’re Midnight Burrito now. ”

Maia shot Jordan an irritated look, and he slid down a little in his seat. Simon wondered what they’d been talking about before he’d gotten home. “Have you talked to anyone else in your family? ” Maia asked, her voice soft. Her amber eyes were full of concern. Simon knew it was churlish, but there was something about being looked at like that that he didn’t like. It was as if her concern made the problem real, when otherwise he could pretend it wasn’t happening.

“Yeah, ” he said. “Everything’s fine with my family. ”

“Really? Because you left your phone here. ” Jordan picked it up from the side table. “And your sister’s been calling you about every five minutes all day. And yesterday. ”

A cold feeling spread through Simon’s stomach. He took the phone from Jordan and looked at the screen. Seventeen missed calls from Rebecca.

“Crap, ” he said. “I was hoping to avoid this. ”

“Well, she’s your sister, ” said Maia. “She was going to call you eventually. ”

“I know, but I’ve been sort of fending her off – leaving messages when I knew she wouldn’t be there, that kind of thing. I just… I guess I was avoiding the inevitable. ”

“And now? ”

Simon set the phone down on the windowsill. “Keep avoiding it? ”

“Don’t. ” Jordan took his hands out of his pockets. “You should talk to her. ”

“And say what? ” The question came out more sharply than Simon had intended.

“Your mother must have told her something, ” said Jordan. “She’s probably worried. ”

Simon shook his head. “She’ll be coming home for Thanksgiving in a few weeks. I don’t want her to get mixed up in what’s going on with my mom. ”

“She’s already mixed up in it. She’s your family, ” said Maia. “Besides, this –what’s going on with your mom, all of it – this is your life now. ”

“Then, I guess I want her to stay out of it. ” Simon knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t seem to be able to help it. Rebecca was – special. Different. From a part of his life that had so far remained untouched by all this weirdness. Maybe the only part.

Maia threw her hands up and turned to Jordan. “Say something to him. You’re his Praetorian guard. ”

“Oh, come on, ” said Simon before Jordan could open his mouth. “Are either of you in touch with your parents? Your families? ”

They exchanged quick looks. “No, ” Jordan said slowly, “but neither of us had good relationships with them before –”

“I rest my case, ” said Simon. “We’re all orphans. Orphans of the storm. ”

“You can’t just ignore your sister, ” insisted Maia.

“Watch me. ”

“And when Rebecca comes home and your house looks like the set of The Exorcist? And your mom has no explanation for where you are? ” Jordan leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “Your sister will call the police, and your mom will end up committed. ”

“I just don’t think I’m ready to hear her voice, ” Simon said, but he knew he’d lost the argument. “I have to head back out, but I promise, I’ll text her. ”

“Well, ” Jordan said. He was looking at Maia, not Simon, as he said it, as if he hoped she’d notice he’d made progress with Simon and be pleased. Simon wondered if they’d been seeing each other at all during the past two weeks when he’d been largely absent. He would have guessed no from the awkward way they’d been sitting when he’d come in, but with these two it was hard to be sure. “It’s a start. ”

The rattling gold elevator stopped at the third floor of the Institute; Clary took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. The place was, as Alec and Isabelle had promised her it would be, deserted and quiet. The traffic on York Avenue outside was a soft murmur. She imagined she could hear the brush of dust motes against one another as they danced in the window light. Along the wall were the pegs where the residents of the Institute hung their coats when they came inside. One of Jace’s black jackets still dangled from a hook, the sleeves empty and ghostly.

With a shiver she set off down the hallway. She could remember the first time Jace had taken her through these corridors, his careless light voice telling her about Shadowhunters, about Idris, about the whole secret world she had never known existed. She had watched him as he’d talked – covertly, she’d thought, but she knew now that Jace noticed everything – watching the light glint off his pale hair, the quick movements of his graceful hands, the flex of the muscles in his arms as he’d gestured.

She reached the library without encountering another Shadowhunter and pushed the door open. The room still gave her the same shiver it had the first time she’d seen it. Circular because it was built inside a tower, the library had a second floor gallery, railed, that ran along the midpoint of the walls, just above the rows of bookshelves. The desk Clary still thought of as Hodge’s rested in the center of the room, carved from a single slab of oak, the wide surface rested on the backs of two kneeling angels. Clary half‑ expected Hodge to stand up behind it, his keen‑ eyed raven, Hugo, perched on his shoulder.

Shaking off the memory, she headed quickly for the circular staircase at the far end of the room. She was wearing jeans and rubber‑ soled sneakers, and a soundless rune was carved into her ankle; the silence was almost eerie as she bounded up the steps and onto the gallery. There were books up here too, but they were locked away behind glass cases. Some looked very old, their covers frayed, their bindings reduced to a few strings. Others were clearly books of dark or dangerous magic–Unspeakable Cults, The Demon’s Pox, A Practical Guide to Raising the Dead.

Between the locked bookshelves were glass display cases. Each held something of rare and beautiful workmanship – a delicate glass flacon whose stopper was an enormous emerald; a crown with a diamond in the center that did not look as if it would fit any human head; a pendant in the shape of an angel whose wings were clockwork cogs and gears; and in the last case, just as Isabelle had promised, a pair of gleaming golden rings shaped like curling leaves, the faerie work as delicate as baby’s breath.

The case was locked, of course, but the Opening rune – Clary biting her lip as she drew it, careful not to make it too powerful lest the glass case burst apart and bring people running – unsnapped the lock. Carefully she eased the case open. It was only as she slid her stele back into her pocket that she hesitated.

Was this really her? Stealing from the Clave to pay the Queen of the Fair Folk, whose promises, as Jace had told her once, were like scorpions, with a barbed sting in the tail?

She shook her head as if to clear the doubts away – and froze. The door to the library was opening. She could hear the creak of wood, muffled voices, footsteps. Without another thought she dropped to the ground, flattening herself against the cold wooden floor of the gallery.

“You were right, Jace, ” came a voice – coolly amused, and horribly familiar – from below. “The place is deserted. ”

The ice that had been in Clary’s veins seemed to crystallize, freezing her in place. She could not move, could not breathe. She had not felt a shock this intense since she had seen her father run a sword through Jace’s chest. Very slowly she inched toward the edge of the gallery and looked down.

And bit down on her lip savagely to keep herself from screaming.

The sloping roof above rose to a point and was set with a glass skylight. Sunlight poured down through the skylight, lighting a portion of the floor like a spotlight on a stage. She could see that the chips of glass and marble and bits of semiprecious stone that were inlaid in the floor formed a design – the Angel Raziel, the cup and the sword. Standing directly on one of the Angel’s outspread wings was Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern.

Sebastian.

So this was what her brother looked like. Really looked like, alive and moving and animated. A pale face, all angles and planes, tall and slim in black gear. His hair was silvery white, not dark as it had been when she had first seen him, dyed to match the color of the real Sebastian Verlac’s. His own pale color suited him better. His eyes were black and snapping with life and energy. The last time she’d seen him, floating in a glass coffin like Snow White, one of his hands had been a bandaged stump. Now that hand was whole again, with a silver bracelet glittering on the wrist, but nothing visible showed that it had ever been damaged – and more than damaged, had been missing.

And there beside him, golden hair shimmering in the pale sunlight, was Jace. Not Jace as she had imagined him so often over the past two weeks – beaten or bleeding or suffering or starving, locked away in some dark cell, screaming in pain or calling out for her. This was Jace as she remembered him, when she let herself remember – flushed and healthy and vibrant and beautiful. His hands were careless in the pockets of his jeans, his Marks visible through his white T‑ shirt. Over it was thrown an unfamiliar tan suede jacket that brought out the gold undertones to his skin. He tipped his head back, as if enjoying the feeling of sun on his face. “I’m always right, Sebastian, ” he said. “You ought to know that about me by now. ”

Sebastian gave him a measured look, and then a smile. Clary stared. It had every appearance of being a real smile. But what did she know? Sebastian had smiled at her before, and that had turned out to be one big lie. “So where are the books on summoning? Is there any order to the chaos here? ”

“Not really. It’s not alphabetized. It follows Hodge’s special system. ”

“Isn’t he the one I killed? Inconvenient, that, ” said Sebastian. “Perhaps I should take the upstairs level and you the downstairs. ”

He moved toward the staircase that led up to the gallery. Clary’s heart began to pound with fear. She associated Sebastian with murder, blood, pain, and terror. She knew that Jace had fought him and won once but had nearly died in the process himself. In a hand‑ to‑ hand fight she would never beat her brother. Could she fling herself from the gallery railing to the floor without breaking a leg? And if she did, what would happen then? What would Jace do?

Sebastian had his foot on the lowest step when Jace called out to him, “Wait. They’re here. Filed under ‘Magic, Nonlethal. ’”

“Nonlethal? Where’s the fun in that? ” Sebastian purred, but he took his foot off the step and moved back toward Jace. “This is quite a library, ” he said, reading off titles as he passed them. “The Care and Feeding of Your Pet Imp. Demons Revealed. ” He plucked that one off the shelf and let out a long, low chuckle.

“What is it? ” Jace looked up, his mouth curving upward. Clary wanted to run downstairs and throw herself at him so badly that she bit down on her lip again. The pain was acid sharp.

“It’s pornography, ” said Sebastian. “Look. Demons… revealed. ”

Jace came up behind him, resting one hand on Sebastian’s arm for balance as he read over his shoulder. It was like watching Jace with Alec, someone he was so comfortable with, he could touch them without thinking about it – but horrible, backward, inside out. “Okay, how can you tell? ”

Sebastian shut the book and hit Jace lightly on the shoulder with it. “Some things I know more about than you. Did you get the books? ”

“I got them. ” Jace scooped up a stack of heavy‑ looking tomes from a nearby table. “Do we have time to go by my room? If I could get some of my stuff…”

“What do you want? ”

Jace shrugged. “Clothes mostly, some weapons. ”

Sebastian shook his head. “Too dangerous. We need to get in and out fast. Only emergency items. ”

“My favorite jacket is an emergency item, ” Jace said. It was so much like hearing him talk to Alec, to any of his friends. “Much like myself, it is both snuggly and fashionable. ”

“Look, we have all the money we could want, ” said Sebastian. “Buy clothes. And you’ll be ruling this place in a few weeks. You can run your favorite jacket up the flagpole and fly it like a pennant. ”

Jace laughed, that soft rich sound Clary loved. “I’m warning you, that jacket is sexy. The Institute could go up in sexy, sexy flames. ”

“Be good for the place. Too dismal right now. ” Sebastian grabbed the back of Jace’s current jacket with a fist and pulled him sideways. “Now we’re going. Hold on to the books. ” He glanced down at his right hand, where a slim silver ring glittered; with the hand that wasn’t holding on to Jace, he used his thumb to twist the ring.

“Hey, ” Jace said. “Do you think–” He broke off, and for a moment Clary thought that it was because he had looked up and seen her – his face was tilted upward – but even as she sucked in her breath, they both vanished, fading like mirages against the air.

Slowly Clary lowered her head onto her arm. Her lip was bleeding where she had bitten it; she could taste the blood in her mouth. She knew she should get up, move, run away. She wasn’t supposed to be here. But the ice in her veins had grown so cold, she was terrified that if she moved, she would shatter.

Alec woke to Magnus’s shaking his shoulder. “Come on, sweet pea, ” he said. “Time to rise and face the day. ”

Alec unfolded himself groggily out of his nest of pillows and blankets and blinked at his boyfriend. Magnus, despite having gotten very little sleep, looked annoyingly chipper. His hair was wet, dripping onto the shoulders of his white shirt and making it transparent. He wore jeans with holes in them and fraying hems, which usually meant he was planning to spend the day without leaving his apartment.

“‘Sweet pea’? ” Alec said.

“I was trying it out. ”

Alec shook his head. “No. ”

Magnus shrugged. “I’ll keep at it. ” He held out a chipped blue mug of coffee fixed the way Alec liked it – black, with sugar. “Wake up. ”

Alec sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and took the mug. The first bitter swallow sent a tingle of energy through his nerves. He remembered lying awake the night before and waiting for Magnus to come to bed, but eventually exhaustion had overtaken him and he had fallen asleep at around five a. m. “I’m skipping the Council meeting today. ”

“I know, but you’re supposed to meet your sister and the others in the park by Turtle Pond. You told me to remind you. ”

Alec swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it? ”

Magnus took the mug gently out of his hand before the coffee spilled and set it on the bedside table. “You’re fine. You’ve got an hour. ” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Alec’s; Alec remembered the first time they had ever kissed, here in this apartment, and he wanted to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and pull him close. But something held him back.

He stood up, disentangling himself, and went over to the bureau. He had a drawer where his clothes were. A place for his toothbrush in the bathroom. A key to the front door. A decent amount of real estate to take up in anyone’s life, and yet he couldn’t shake the cold fear in his stomach.

Magnus had rolled onto his back on the bed and was watching Alec, one arm crooked behind his head. “Wear that scarf, ” he said, pointing to a blue cashmere scarf hanging on a peg. “It matches your eyes. ”

Alec looked at it. Suddenly he was filled with hate – for the scarf, for Magnus, and most of all for himself. “Don’t tell me, ” he said. “The scarf’s a hundred years old, and it was given to you by Queen Victoria right before she died, for special services to the Crown or something. ”

Magnus sat up. “What’s gotten into you? ”

Alec stared at him. “Am I the newest thing in this apartment? ”

“I think that honor goes to Chairman Meow. He’s only two. ”

“I said newest, not youngest, ” Alec snapped. “Who’s W. S. ? Is it Will? ”

Magnus shook his head like there was water in his ears. “What the hell? You mean the snuffbox? W. S. is Woolsey Scott. He–”

“Founded the Praetor Lupus. I know. ” Alec pulled on his jeans and zipped them up. “You mentioned him before, and besides, he’s a historical figure. And his snuffbox is in your junk drawer. What else is in there? Jonathan Shadowhunter’s toenail clippers? ”

Magnus’s cat eyes were cold. “Where is all this coming from, Alexander? I don’t lie to you. If there’s anything about me you want to know, you can ask. ”

“Bull, ” Alec said bluntly, buttoning his shirt. “You’re kind and funny and all those great things, but what you’re not is forthcoming, sweet pea. You can talk all day about other people’s problems, but you won’t talk about yourself or your history, and when I do ask, you wriggle like a worm on a hook. ”

“Maybe because you can’t ask me about my past without picking a fight about how I’m going to live forever and you’re not, ” Magnus snapped. “Maybe because immortality is rapidly becoming the third person in our relationship, Alec. ”

“Our relationship isn’t supposed to have a third person. ”

“Exactly. ”

Alec’s throat tightened. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but he had never been good with words like Jace and Magnus were. Instead he grabbed the blue scarf off its peg and wrapped it defiantly around his neck.

“Don’t wait up, ” he said. “I might patrol tonight. ”

As he slammed out of the apartment, he heard Magnus yell after him, “And that scarf, I’ll have you know, is from the Gap! I got it last year! ”

Alec rolled his eyes and jogged down the stairs to the lobby. The single bulb that usually lit the place was out, and the space was so dim that for a moment he didn’t see the hooded figure slipping toward him from the shadows. When he did, he was so startled that he dropped his key chain with a rattling clang.

The figure glided toward him. He could tell nothing about it – not age or gender or even species. The voice that came from beneath the hood was crackling and low. “I have a message for you, Alec Lightwood, ” it said. “From Camille Belcourt. ”

“Do you want to patrol together tonight? ” Jordan asked, somewhat abruptly.

Maia turned to look at him in surprise. He was leaning back against the kitchen counter, his elbows on the surface behind him. There was an unconcern about his posture that was too studied to be sincere. That was the problem with knowing someone so well, she thought. It was very hard to pretend around them, or to ignore it when they were pretending, even when it would be easier.

“Patrol together? ” she echoed. Simon was in his room, changing clothes; she’d told him she’d walk to the subway with him, and now she wished she hadn’t. She knew she should have contacted Jordan since the last time she’d seen him, when, rather unwisely, she’d kissed him. But then Jace had vanished and the whole world seemed to have blown into pieces and it had given her just the excuse she’d needed to avoid the whole issue.

Of course, not thinking about the ex‑ boyfriend who had broken your heart and turned you into a werewolf was a lot easier when he wasn’t standing right in front of you, wearing a green shirt that hugged his leanly muscled body in all the right places and brought out the hazel color of his eyes.

“I thought they were canceling the patrol searches for Jace, ” she said, looking away from him.

“Well, not canceling so much as cutting down. But I’m Praetor, not Clave. I can look for Jace on my own time. ”

“Right, ” she said.

He was playing with something on the counter, arranging it, but his attention was still on her. “Do you, you know… You used to want to go to college at Stanford. Do you still? ”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I haven’t thought about college since…” She cleared her throat. “Not since I Changed. ”

His cheeks flushed. “You were – I mean, you always wanted to go to California. You were going to study history, and I was going to move out there and surf. Remember? ”

Maia shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. She felt as if she ought to be angry, but she wasn’t. For a long time she had blamed Jordan for the fact that she’d stopped dreaming of a human future, with school and a house and a family, maybe, someday. But there were other wolves in the police station pack who still pursued their dreams, their art. Bat, for instance. It had been her own choice to stop her life short. “I remember, ” she said.

His cheeks flushed. “About tonight. No one’s searched the Brooklyn Navy Yard, so I thought… but it’s never much fun doing it on my own. But if you don’t want to…”

“No, ” she said, hearing her own voice as if it were someone else’s. “I mean, sure. I’ll go with you. ”

“Really? ” His hazel eyes lit up, and Maia cursed herself inwardly. She shouldn’t get his hopes up, not when she wasn’t sure how she felt. It was just so hard to believe that he cared that much.

The Praetor Lupus medallion gleamed at his throat as he leaned forward, and she smelled the familiar scent of his soap, and under that – wolf. She flicked her eyes up toward him, just as Simon’s door opened and he came out, shrugging on a hoodie. He stopped dead in his doorway, his eyes moving from Jordan to Maia, his eyebrows slowly rising.

“You know, I can make it to the subway on my own, ” he said to Maia, a faint smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “If you want to stay here…”

“No. ” Maia hastily took her hands out of her pockets, where they had been balled into nervous fists. “No, I’ll come with you. Jordan, I’ll – I’ll see you later. ”

“Tonight, ” he called after her, but she didn’t turn around to look at him; she was already hurrying after Simon.

Simon trudged alone up the low rise of the hill, hearing the shouts of the Frisbee players in the Sheep Meadow behind him, like distant music. It was a bright November day, crisp and windy, the sun lighting what remained of the leaves on the trees to brilliant shades of scarlet, gold, and amber.

The top of the hill was strewn with boulders. You could see how the park had been hacked out of what had once been a wilderness of trees and stone. Isabelle sat atop one of the boulders, wearing a long dress of bottle‑ green silk with an embroidered black and silver coat over it. She looked up as Simon strode toward her, pushing her long, dark hair out of her face. “I thought you’d be with Clary, ” she said as he drew closer. “Where is she? ”

“Leaving the Institute, ” he said, sitting down next to Isabelle on the rock and shoving his hands into his Windbreaker pockets. “She texted. She’ll be here soon. ”

“Alec’s on his way–, ” she began, and broke off as his pocket buzzed. Or, more accurately, the phone in his pocket buzzed. “I think someone’s messaging you. ”

He shrugged. “I’ll check it later. ”

She gave him a look from under her long eyelashes. “Anyway, I was saying, Alec’s on his way too. He had to come all the way from Brooklyn, so–”

Simon’s phone buzzed again.

“All right, that’s it. If you’re not getting it, I will. ” Isabelle leaned forward, against Simon’s protests, and slipped her hand into his pocket. The top of her head brushed his chin. He smelled her perfume – vanilla – and the scent of her skin underneath. When she pulled the phone out and drew back, he was both relieved and disappointed.

She squinted at the screen. “Rebecca? Who’s Rebecca? ”

“My sister. ”

Isabelle’s body relaxed. “She wants to meet you. She says she hasn’t seen you since–”

Simon swiped the phone out of her hand and flipped it off before shoving it back into his pocket. “I know, I know. ”

“Don’t you want to see her? ”

“More than – more than almost anything else. But I don’t want her to know. About me. ” Simon picked up a stick and threw it. “Look what happened when my mom found out. ”

“So set up a meeting with her somewhere public. Where she can’t freak out. Far from your house. ”

“Even if she can’t freak out, she can still look at me like my mother did, ” Simon said in a low voice. “Like I’m a monster. ”

Isabelle touched his wrist lightly. “My mom tossed out Jace when she thought he was Valentine’s son and a spy – then she regretted it horribly. My mom and dad are coming around to Alec’s being with Magnus. Your mom will come around too. Get your sister on your side. That’ll help. ” She tilted her head a little. “I think sometimes siblings understand more than parents. There’s not the same weight of expectations. I could never, ever cut Alec off. No matter what he did. Never. Or Jace. ” She squeezed his arm, then dropped her hand. “My little brother died. I won’t ever see him again. Don’t put your sister through that. ”

“Through what? ” It was Alec, coming up the side of the hill, kicking dried leaves out of his path. He was wearing his usual ratty sweater and jeans, but a dark blue scarf that matched his eyes was wrapped around his throat. Now, that had to have been a gift from Magnus, Simon thought. No way would Alec have thought to buy something like that himself. The concept of matching seemed to be beyond him.

Isabelle cleared her throat. “Simon’s sister–”

She got no further than that. There was a blast of cold air, bringing with it a swirl of dead leaves. Isabelle put her hand up to shield her face from the dust as the air began to shimmer with the unmistakeable translucence of an opening Portal, and Clary appeared before them, her stele in one hand and her face wet with tears.