"After this afternoon's vote, if scum like you are allowed in Alicante, I'd be very surprised," Samantha said. "Enjoy it while you can."
"You're talking to the wife of the Consul's daughter," said Aline, her nostrils flaring. "Watch your mouth, Samantha Larkspear."
Samantha made an odd, gulping, hissing noise, and reached for her weapons belt, flashing a dagger with a thick knuckle-guard hilt. Mark could see her brother, pale and black-haired as she was, pushing toward them through the crowd. Helen had her hand on the seraph blade in her belt. Moving instinctively, Mark reached for the blade at his own hip, tensed for violence.
*
Kit looked up when Julian's hand fell on his shoulder.
He'd been slouching in his chair, mostly looking at Alicante through the big glass window behind the wooden stagelike thing at the front of the room. He'd been deliberately not looking at Livvy and Ty greeting their sister. Something about the tight knot of Blackthorns hugging and exclaiming over each other reminded him exactly how much he wasn't one of them in a way he hadn't been reminded since Los Angeles.
"Your sister's here," he said to Julian. He pointed. "Helen."
Julian glanced over at his siblings briefly; Kit had the feeling he already knew. He looked tense and sparking at the edges, like snapped electrical wire.
"I need you to do something," he said. "Alec's guarding the east doors to the Hall. Go find him and bring him to Magnus. Tell him Magnus is in the Consul's guest quarters; he'll know where that is."
Kit swung his legs off the chair in front of him. "Why?"
"Just trust me." Julian stood up. "Make it look like it's your idea, like you need Alec to show you something or help you find someone. I don't want anyone's curiosity stirred up."
*
"You're not really thinking about fighting in the middle of the Council Hall, are you?" said Emma. "I mean, considering that would be illegal and all that." She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Not a good idea, Samantha. Put that dagger away."
The small group--Helen, Aline, Mark, and Samantha--turned to stare at Emma as if she'd appeared in a puff of smoke. They'd all been too angry to notice her approach.
The gold clock overhead began to chime urgently. The crowd started to unknot itself, Shadowhunters searching for empty seats in the rows facing the dais. Dane Larkspear, who'd been coming toward his sister, had halted in the middle of an aisle; Emma saw to her surprise that Manuel was blocking his way.
Maybe Manuel didn't think a Centurion brawling on the floor of the Council Hall would be a great idea either. Zara was looking over too, her red mouth set in an angry line.
"You don't get to pull rank on me, Aline Penhallow," said Samantha, but she shoved her dagger back into its sheath. "Not when you're married to that--that thing."
"Did you draw that?" Emma interrupted, pointing at the blobby sketch on Samantha's placard. "Is that supposed to be a dead faerie?"
She was pretty sure it was. The sketch had arms and legs and dragonfly wings, sort of.
"Impressive," said Emma. "You've got talent, Samantha. Real talent."
Samantha looked surprised. "You think so?"
"God, no," said Emma. "Now go and sit down. Zara's waving at you."
Samantha hesitated and then turned away. Emma grabbed hold of Helen's hand. She started to walk toward the long bench where the Blackthorns were seated. Her heart was thumping. Not that Samantha was much danger, but if they'd started something, and the rest of Zara's friends had joined in, it could have been a real fight.
Aline and Mark were on either side of them. Helen's fingers curled around Emma's arm. "I remember this," she said in a low voice. Her fingertips brushed the scar that Cortana had made years ago, when Emma had clutched the blade to her body after her parents' death.
It was Helen who had been there when Emma woke up in a world where her parents were gone forever, though it was Julian who had placed the sword in Emma's arms.
But now Cortana was strapped to her back. Now was their chance to right the wrongs of the past--the wrongs done to Helen and Mark and those like them by the Clave, the wrong the Clave had done to the Carstairs in ignoring their deaths. It made the knowledge that she would soon be exiled hurt even more, the thought that she would not be with the Blackthorns when they were reunited.
They sped up as they got close to the other Blackthorns, and there was Julian, standing among his siblings. His eyes met Emma's. She could see even across the distance between them that his had turned nearly black.
She knew without having to ask: Something was very wrong.
*
Alec Lightwood was very hard to keep up with. He was older than Kit, and he had longer legs, and he'd taken off flat-out running the moment Kit told him that Magnus needed him.
Kit wasn't sure their cover story that he wanted Alec to show him around the Gard was going to hold up if anyone stopped them. But no one did; the loud chiming was still sounding, and everyone was hurrying toward the main Council Hall.
When they burst into the high-ceilinged Consul's quarters, they found Magnus lying on a long sofa. Kieran and Annabel were at opposite ends of the room, staring like cats just introduced to a new environment.
Jia and Robert stood by the sofa; Alec started toward it, and his father moved to put a hand on his shoulder.
Alec stopped where he was, his whole body tense. "Let me go," he said.
"He's fine," said Robert. "Brother Enoch was just here. His magic's depleted and he's weak, but--"
"I know what's wrong with him," Alec said, pushing past the Inquisitor. Robert watched his son as Alec knelt down by the side of the long couch. He brushed Magnus's hair back from his forehead, and the warlock stirred and murmured.
"He hasn't been well for a while," said Alec, half to himself. "His magic gets depleted so fast. I told him to go to the Spiral Labyrinth, but there hasn't been time."
Kit stared. He'd heard of Magnus even before he'd met him, of course; Magnus was famous in Downworld. And when he had met Magnus, the warlock had been so full of kinetic energy, a whirl of dry wit and blue fire. It hadn't even occurred to him that Magnus might get sick or tired.
"Isn't there any way to make him better?" said Annabel. She was vibrating with tension, her hands working at her sides. He noticed for the first time that she was missing a finger on her right hand. He hadn't looked at her too closely before. She gave him the creeps. "I--I need him."
Admirably, Alec didn't lose his temper. "He needs rest," he said. "We could delay the meeting--"
"Alec, we can't." Jia spoke gently. "Obviously Magnus should rest. Annabel, you'll be taken care of. I promise."
"No." Annabel shrank back against the wall. "I want Magnus with me. Or Julian. Get Julian."
"What's going on?" Kit recognized her voice even before he turned to see Zara in the doorway. Her lipstick looked like a harsh slash of blood against her pale skin. She was looking at Magnus, the corner of her mouth twisted in a smirk. "Consul," she said, and bowed to Jia. "Everyone is assembled. Should I tell them the meeting will be delayed?"
"No, Miss Dearborn," said Jia, smoothing down her embroidered robe. "Thank you, but we don't need you to handle this for us. The assembly will go as planned."
"Dearborn," Annabel echoed. Her gaze was fixed on Zara. Her eyes had gone flat and glittering like a snake's. "You're a Dearborn."
Zara looked merely puzzled, as if wondering who Annabel might be. "Zara is quite an advocate for restricting the rights of Downworlders," Jia said neutrally.
"We're interested in safety," Zara said, clearly stung. "That's all."
"We had better go," said Robert Lightwood. He was still looking at Alec, but Alec wasn't looking at him; he was sitting by Magnus, his hand against Magnus's cheek. "Alec, if you need me, send for me."
"I'll send Kit," Alec said, without looking around.
"I'll return for you," Robert said to Kieran, who had remained silently by the window, barely a shadow in the room's shadows. Kieran nodd
ed.
Robert squeezed Alec's shoulder briefly. Jia extended a hand to Annabel, and after a moment of staring at Zara, Annabel followed the Consul and the Inquisitor from the room.
"Is he sick?" Zara said, looking at Magnus with a distant interest. "I didn't think warlocks got sick. Wouldn't it be funny if he died before you? I mean, what with him being immortal, you must have thought it would go the other way."
Alec raised his head slowly. "What?"
"Well, I mean since Magnus is immortal and you, you know, aren't," she clarified.
"He's immortal?" Alec's voice was colder than Kit had ever heard it. "I wish you'd told me before. I would have turned back time and found myself a nice mortal husband to grow old with."
"Well, wouldn't that be better?" Zara said. "Then you could get old and die at the same time."
"At the same time?" Alec echoed. He had barely moved or raised his voice, but his rage seemed to fill the room. Even Zara was starting to look uneasy. "How would you suggest we arrange that? Jump off a cliff together when one of us started feeling sickly?"
"Maybe." Zara looked sulky. "You have to agree the situation you're in is a tragedy."
Alec rose to his feet and in that moment was the famous Alec Lightwood Kit had heard about, the hero of past battles, the archer boy with deadly aim. "This is what I want and what I've chosen," he said. "How dare you tell me it's a tragedy? Magnus never pretended, he never tried to fool me into thinking it would be easy, but choosing Magnus is one of the easiest things I've ever done. We all have a lifetime, Zara, and none of us know how long or short it might be. Surely even you know that. I expect you mean to be rude and cruel, but I doubt you meant to sound stupid as well."
She flushed. "But if you die of old age and he lives forever--"
"Then he'll be there for Max, and that makes both of us happy," said Alec. "And I will be a uniquely lucky person, because there will be someone who always remembers me. Who will always love me. Magnus won't always mourn, but until the end of time he will remember me and love me."
"What makes you so sure?" said Zara, but there was an edge of uncertainty in her voice.
"Because he's three thousand times the human being you'll ever be," said Alec. "Now get out of here before I risk his life by waking him up so he can turn you into a garbage fire. Something that would match your personality."
"Oh!" said Zara. "So rude!"
Kit thought it was more than rude. He thought Alec meant it. He kind of hoped Zara would stick around to test the theory. Instead she stalked toward the door and paused there, glancing back at them both with dislike.
"Come on, Alec," she said. "The truth is that Shadowhunters and Downworlders aren't meant to be together. You and Bane are a disgrace. But you can't just be content with the Clave letting you pervert your angelic lineage. No, you have to force it on the rest of us."
"Really?" said Kieran, who Kit had nearly forgotten was there. "You all have to sleep with Magnus Bane? How exciting for you."
"Shut up, faerie dirt," said Zara. "You'll learn. You've picked the wrong side, you and those Blackthorns and Jace Herondale and that ginger bitch Clary--" She was breathing hard, her face flushed. "I'll enjoy watching you all go down," she said, and flounced from the room.
"Did she really say 'pervert your angelic lineage'?" said Alec, looking stupefied.
"Faerie dirt," mused Kieran. "That is, as Mark would say, a new one."
"Unbelievable." Alec sat down next to the sofa again, drawing up his knees.
"Nothing she said surprised me," said Kieran. "That is how they are. That is how the Cold Peace has made them. Afraid of what is new and different, and filled with hatred like ice. She may seem ridiculous, Zara Dearborn, but do not make the mistake of underestimating her and her Cohort." He looked back at the window. "Hate like that can tear down the world."
*
"This is a very strange request," said Diego.
"You're the one in a fake relationship," said Cristina. "I am sure you've been asked for stranger things."
Diego laughed, not with much humor. They were sitting a row away from the Blackthorns in the Council Hall. The clock had stopped chiming to announce the meeting's beginning and the room was full, though the dais was still empty.
"I am glad Jaime told you," he said. "Selfishly. I could bear that you hated me, but not that you despised me."
Cristina sighed. "I am not sure I ever really did despise you," she said.
"I should have told you more," he said. "I wanted to keep you safe--and I denied to myself that the Cohort and their plans were your problem. I didn't know they had designs on the Los Angeles Institute until too late. And I was mistaken in Manuel, as much as anyone. I trusted him."
"I know," Cristina said. "It is not that I blame you for anything. I--for such a long time, we were Cristina-and-Diego. A pair, together. And when that was over, I felt half myself. When you came back, I thought we could be as we were before, and I tried, but--"
"You don't love me like that anymore," he finished.
She paused for a moment. "No," she said. "I don't. Not like that. It was like trying to return to a place in your childhood you remember as perfect. It will always have changed, because you have changed."
Diego's Adam's apple moved as he swallowed. "I can't blame you. I don't like myself much right now."
"Maybe this could help you like yourself a little more. It would be a great kindness, Diego."
He shook his head. "Trust you, I suppose, to take pity on a lost faerie."
"It isn't pity," said Cristina. She glanced back over her shoulder; Zara had left the room some moments earlier and hadn't returned yet. Samantha was glaring at her, though, apparently in the belief that Cristina was trying to steal Zara's fiance. "They frighten me. They will kill him after he testifies."
"The Cohort is frightening," Diego said. "But the Cohort is not the Centurions, and not all Centurions are like Zara. Rayan, Divya, Gen are good people. Like the Clave, it is an organization that has a cancer at its heart. Some of the body is sick and some healthy. Our mission is to discover a way to kill the sickness without killing all of the body."
The doors of the Council Hall opened. The Consul, Jia Penhallow, entered, her silver-flecked dark robes sweeping around her.
The room, which had been full of lively chatter, sank to hushed murmurs. Cristina sat back as the Consul began to climb the stairs to the dais.
*
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice, Nephilim." The Consul stood in front of a low wooden podium, its base decorated with the sigil of four Cs. There was gray in her black hair now that Emma didn't remember seeing before, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. It couldn't be easy, being the Consul during a time of unspoken war. "Most of you know about Malcolm Fade. He was one of our closest allies, or so we thought. He betrayed us some weeks ago, and even now we are still learning of the bloody and terrible crimes he committed."
The murmur that went around the room sounded to Emma like the rush of the tide. She wished Julian was next to her so that she could bump his shoulder with hers, or squeeze his hand, but--mindful of the Inquisitor's instruction--they had sat at the opposite end of the long bench after he'd told her Magnus had collapsed.
"I promised Annabel Magnus would be with her," he'd said in a low voice, not wanting the younger Blackthorns to hear and be panicked. "I gave my word."
"You couldn't have guessed. Poor Magnus. There was no way to know he was sick."
But she remembered herself, saying, Don't promise what you can't deliver. And she felt cold, all over.
"There is a longer story to Fade's betrayal, one you might not know," Jia said. "In 1812 he fell in love with a Shadowhunter girl, Annabel Blackthorn. Her family deplored the idea of her marrying a warlock. In the end, she was murdered--by other Nephilim. Malcolm was told she had become an Iron Sister."
"Why didn't they kill him, too?" called someone from the crowd.
"He was a powerful warlock. A valuable a
sset," said Jia. "In the end it was decided to leave him alone. But when he discovered what had actually happened to Annabel, he lost his mind. This past century he has spent seeking revenge against Shadowhunters."
"My lady." It was Zara, upright and very prim; she'd just come in through the Hall doors and was standing in the aisle. "You tell us this story as if you mean for us to have sympathy for the girl and the warlock. But Malcolm Fade was a monster. A murderer. Some girl's infatuation with him doesn't excuse what he did."
"I find," said Jia, "that there is a difference between an excuse and an explanation."
"Then why are we being treated to this explanation? The warlock is dead. I hope this is not some attempt to wring reparations out of the Council. No one associated with that monster deserves any recompense for his death."
Jia's look was like the edge of a blade. "I understand that you've been very active in Council affairs lately, Zara," she said. "That does not mean you can interrupt the Consul. Go and sit down."
After a moment, Zara sat, looking angry. Aline pumped her fist. "Go, Mom," she whispered.
However, someone else had risen up to take Zara's place. Her father. "Consul," he said. "We're not ignorant; we were told this meeting would involve significant testimony by a witness that would impact the Clave. Isn't it about time you brought that witness out? If indeed, they exist?"
"Oh, she exists," Jia said. "It is Annabel. Annabel Blackthorn."
Now the murmur that went through the room sounded like the crash of a wave. A moment later Robert Lightwood appeared, wearing a grim expression. Behind him came two guards, and between them walked Annabel.
Annabel seemed quite small as she came up on the dais beside the Inquisitor. The Black Volume was hanging from a strap over her back, which made her look even younger, like a girl on her way to school.
A hiss went through the room. Undead, Emma heard, and Unclean. Annabel shrank back against Robert.
"This is an outrage," sputtered Zara's father. "Did we not all suffer enough from the corrosive filth of the Endarkened? Must you bring this thing in front of us?"
Julian sprang to his feet. "The Endarkened were not undead," he said, turning to face the Hall. "They were Turned by the Infernal Cup. Annabel is exactly who she was in life. She was tortured by Malcolm, kept in a half-alive state for years. She wants to help us."
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