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City of Glass

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THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS
Book Three
City of Glass

Margaret K. McElderry Books
An imprint of Simon & Schuster
Children s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New
York, New York 10020
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are

products of the author s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright Š 2009 by Cassandra
Claire, LLC
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Library of Congress Cataloging-inPublication Data
Clare, Cassandra.
City of glass / Cassandra Clare. 1st ed. p. cm. (The mortal instruments; bk.
3)
Summary: Still pursuing a cure for her mother s enchantment, Clary uses all her powers and ingenuity to get into Idris, the forbidden country of the secretive Shadowhunters, and to its capital, the City of Glass, where with the help of a newfound friend,

Sebastian, she uncovers important truths about her family s past that will help save not only her mother but all those that she holds most dear. ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-5842-5
ISBN-10: 1-4391-5842-8
[1. Supernatural Fiction. 2.
Demonology Fiction. 3.
Magic Fiction. 4. Vampires Fiction.
5. New York (N.Y.) Fiction.] I.

Title.
PZ7.C5265Ckg 2009
[Fic] dc22
2008039065
Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.SimonSays.com [http://www.SimonSays.com]

For my mother.
I only count the hours that shine.

Acknowledgments

When you look back on writing a book, you cant help but realize what a group effort it all is, and how quickly the whole thing would sink like the Titanic if you didn't have the help of your friends. With that in mind: Thanks to the NB Team and the Massachusetts All-Stars; thanks to Elka, Emily, and Clio for hours of plotting help, and to Holly Black for hours of patiently reading the same scenes over and over. To
Libba Bray for providing bagels and a couch to write on, Robin

Wasserman for distracting me with clips from Gossip Girl, Maureen
Johnson for staring at me in a frightening way while I was trying to work, and Justine Larbalestier and Scott Westerfeld for forcing me to get off the couch and go somewhere to write. Thanks also to
Ioana for helping me with my
(nonexistent) Romanian. Thanks as always to my agent, Barry
Goldblatt; my editor, Karen
Wojtyla; the teams at Simon &
Schuster and Walker Books for

getting behind this series, and Sarah
Payne for making changes long past deadline. And of course to my family my mother, my father, Jim and
Kate, the Esons clan, and of course
Josh, who still thinks Simon is based on him (and he may be right).

Long is the way
And hard, that out of Hell leads up

to Light.
John Milton, Paradise Lost

Contents

Part One Sparks Fly Upward
1 THE PORTAL
2 THE DEMON TOWERS OF
ALICANTE
3 AMATIS
4 DAYLIGHTER

5 A PROBLEM OF MEMORY
6 BAD BLOOD
7 WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO
TREAD
8 ONE OF THE LIVING
9 THIS GUILTY BLOOD
Part Two Stars Shine Darkly

10 FIRE AND SWORD
11 ALL THE HOST OF HELL
12 DE PROFUNDIS
13
WHERE
SORROW

THERE

IS

14 IN THE DARK FOREST
15 THINGS FALL APART
Part Three The Way to Heaven

16 ARTICLES OF FAITH
17 THE
TALE

SHADOWHUNTERS

18 HAIL AND FAREWELL
19 PENIEL
20
WEIGHED
BALANCE

IN

THE

Epilogue Across the Sky in Stars

Part One

Sparks Fly Upward

Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.
Job 5:7

1

THE PORTAL

The cold snap of the previous

week was over; the sun was shining brightly as Clary hurried across Lukes dusty front yard, the hood of her jacket up to keep her hair from blowing across her face.
The weather might have warmed up, but the wind off the East River could still be brutal. It carried with it a faint chemical smell, mixed with the Brooklyn smell of asphalt, gasoline, and burned sugar from the abandoned factory down the street.
Simon was waiting for her on the front porch, sprawled in a broken-

springed armchair. He had his DS balanced on his blue-jeaned knees and was poking away at it industriously with the stylus. Score, he said as she came up the steps. Im kicking butt at Mario Kart.
Clary pushed her hood back, shaking hair out of her eyes, and rummaged in her pocket for her keys. Where have you been? Ive been calling you all morning.
Simon got to his feet, shoving the blinking rectangle into his messenger bag. I was at Erics. Band

practice.
Clary stopped jiggling the key in the lockit always stucklong enough to frown at him. Band practice? You mean you re still
In the band? Why wouldnt I be? He reached around her. Here, let me do it. Clary stood still while Simon expertly twisted the key with just the right amount of pressure, making the stubborn old lock spring open.
His hand brushed hers; his skin was cool, the temperature of the air

outside. She shivered a little. Theyd only called off their attempt at a romantic relationship last week, and she still felt confused whenever she saw him.
Thanks. She took the key back without looking at him.
It was hot in the living room. Clary hung her jacket up on the peg inside the front hall and headed to the spare bedroom, Simon trailing in her wake. She frowned. Her suitcase was open like a clamshell on the bed, her clothes and

sketchbooks strewn everywhere.
I thought you were just going to be in Idris a couple of days, Simon said, taking in the mess with a look of faint dismay.
I am, but I cant figure out what to pack. I hardly own any dresses or skirts, but what if I cant wear pants there? Why wouldnt you be able to wear pants there? Its another country, not another century.
But the Shadowhunters are so oldfashioned, and Isabelle always

wears dresses Clary broke off and sighed. Its nothing. Im just projecting all my anxiety about my mom onto my wardrobe. Lets talk about something else. How was practice? Still no band name?
It was fine. Simon hopped onto the desk, legs dangling over the side.
Were considering a new motto.
Something ironic, like Weve seen a million faces and rocked about eighty percent of them.
Have you told Eric and the rest of them that

That Im a vampire? No. It isnt the sort of thing you just drop into casual conversation.
Maybe not, but theyre your friends.
They should know. And besides, theyll just think it makes you more of a rock god, like that vampire
Lester.
Lestat, Simon said. That would be the vampire Lestat. And hes fictional. Anyway, I dont see you running to tell all your friends that you re a Shadowhunter.
What friends? Youre my friend. She

threw herself down onto the bed and looked up at Simon. And I told you, didn t I?
Because you had no choice. Simon put his head to the side, studying her; the bedside light reflected off his eyes, turning them silver. Ill miss you while you re gone.
Ill miss you, too, Clary said, although her skin was prickling all over with a nervous anticipation that made it hard to concentrate. I m going to Idris! her mind sang. I ll see the Shadowhunter home

country, the City of Glass. Ill save my mother.
And I ll be with Jace.
Simons eyes flashed as if he could hear her thoughts, but his voice was soft. Tell me againwhy do you have to go to Idris? Why cant Madeleine and Luke take care of this without you? My mom got the spell that put her in this state from a warlockRagnor
Fell. Madeleine says we need to track him down if we want to know how to reverse the spell. But he

doesnt know Madeleine. He knew my mom, and Madeleine thinks hell trust me because I look so much like her. And Luke cant come with me.
He could come to Idris, but apparently he cant get into Alicante without permission from the Clave, and they wont give it. And dont say anything about it to him, please he s really not happy about not going with me. If he hadnt known
Madeleine before, I dont think hed let me go at all.
But the Lightwoods will be there

too. And Jace. Theyll be helping you. I mean, Jace did say hed help you, didnt he? He doesnt mind you coming along?
Sure, hell help me, Clary said. And of course he doesnt mind. Hes fine with it.
But that, she knew, was a lie.

Clary had gone straight to the
Insititute after shed talked to

Madeleine at the hospital. Jace had been the first one shed told her mothers secret to, before even Luke.
And hed stood there and stared at her, getting paler and paler as she spoke, as if she werent so much telling him how she could save her mother as draining the blood out of him with cruel slowness.
Youre not going, he said as soon as shed finished. If I have to tie you up and sit on you until this insane whim of yours passes, you are not going to
Idris.

Clary felt as if hed slapped her. She had thought hed be pleased. Shed run all the way from the hospital to the Institute to tell him, and here he was standing in the entryway glaring at her with a look of grim death. But you re going.
Yes, were going. We have to go.
The Claves called every active
Clave member who can be spared back to Idris for a massive Council meeting. Theyre going to vote on what to do about Valentine, and since were the last people whove

seen him
Clary brushed this aside. So if youre going, why cant I go with you? The straightforwardness of the question seemed to make him even angrier. Because it isnt safe for you there. Oh, and its so safe here? Ive nearly been killed a dozen times in the past month, and every time its been right here in New York.
Thats because Valentines been concentrating on the two Mortal

Instruments that were here. Jace spoke through gritted teeth. Hes going to shift his focus to Idris now, we all know it
Were hardly as certain of anything as all that, said Maryse Lightwood.
She had been standing in the shadow of the corridor doorway, unseen by either of them; she moved forward now, into the harsh entryway lights. They illuminated the lines of exhaustion that seemed to draw her face down. Her husband, Robert Lightwood, had

been injured by demon poison during the battle last week and had needed constant nursing since;
Clary could only imagine how tired she must be. And the Clave wants to meet Clarissa. You know that, Jace.
The Clave can screw itself.
Jace, Maryse said, sounding genuinely parental for a change.
Language.
The Clave wants a lot of things,
Jace
amended.
It
shouldnt necessarily get them all.
Maryse shot him a look, as if she

knew exactly what he was talking about and didnt appreciate it. The
Clave is often right, Jace. Its not unreasonable for them to want to talk to Clary, after what shes been through. What she could tell them
Ill tell them whatever they want to know, Jace said.
Maryse sighed and turned her blue eyes on Clary. So you want to go to
Idris, I take it?
Just for a few days. I wont be any trouble, Clary said, gazing entreatingly past Jaces white-hot

glare at Maryse. I swear.
The question isnt whether youll be any trouble; the question is whether youll be willing to meet with the
Clave while youre there. They want to talk to you. If you say no, I doubt we can get the authorization to bring you with us.
No , Jace began.
Ill meet with the Clave, Clary interrupted, though the thought sent a ripple of cold down her spine. The only emissary of the Clave shed known so far was the Inquisitor,

who hadnt exactly been pleasant to be around.
Maryse rubbed at her temples with her fingertips. Then its settled. She didnt sound settled, though; she sounded as tense and fragile as an overtightened violin string. Jace, show Clary out and then come see me in the library. I need to talk to you. She disappeared back into the shadows without even a word of farewell. Clary stared after her, feeling as if she d just been drenched

with ice water. Alec and Isabelle seemed genuinely fond of their mother, and she was sure Maryse wasnt a bad person, really, but she wasn t exactly warm.
Jaces mouth was a hard line. Now look what you ve done.
I need to go to Idris, even if you cant understand why, Clary said. I need to do this for my mother.
Maryse trusts the Clave too much, said Jace. She has to believe theyre perfect, and I cant tell her they arent, because He stopped abruptly.

Because thats something Valentine would say.
She expected an explosion, but No one is perfect was all he said. He reached out and stabbed at the elevator button with his index finger. Not even the Clave.
Clary crossed her arms over her chest. Is that really why you dont want me to come? Because it isnt safe? A flicker of surprise crossed his face. What do you mean? Why else wouldn t I want you to come?

She swallowed. Because Because you told me you dont have feelings for me anymore, and you see, thats very awkward, because I still have them for you. And I bet you know it. Because I dont want my little sister following me everywhere? There was a sharp note in his voice, half mockery, half something else.
The elevator arrived with a clatter.
Pushing the gate aside, Clary stepped into it and turned to face
Jace. Im not going because youll be

there. Im going because I want to help my mother. Our mother. I have to help her. Dont you get it? If I dont do this, she might never wake up.
You could at least pretend you care a little bit.
Jace put his hands on her shoulders, his fingertips brushing the bare skin at the edge of her collar, sending pointless, helpless shivers through her nerves. There were shadows below his eyes, Clary noticed without wanting to, and dark hollows under his cheekbones. The

black sweater he was wearing only made his bruise-marked skin stand out more, and the dark lashes, too; he was a study in contrasts, something to be painted in shades of black, white, and gray, with splashes of gold here and there, like his eyes, for an accent color
Let me do it. His voice was soft, urgent. I can help her for you. Tell me where to go, who to ask. Ill get what you need.
Madeleine told the warlock Id be the one coming. Hell be expecting

Jocelyns daughter, not Jocelyns son.
Jaces hands tightened on her shoulders. So tell her there was a change of plans. Ill be going, not you. Not you.
Jace
Ill do whatever, he said. Whatever you want, if you promise to stay here. I can t.
He let go of her, as if shed pushed him away. Why not?
Because, she said, shes my mother,
Jace.

And mine. His voice was cold. In fact, why didnt Madeleine approach both of us about this? Why just you?
You know why.
Because, he said, and this time he sounded even colder, to her youre
Jocelyns daughter. But Ill always be
Valentine s son.
He slammed the gate shut between them. For a moment she stared at him through itthe mesh of the gate divided up his face into a series of diamond shapes, outlined in metal.
A single golden eye stared at her

through one diamond, furious anger flickering in its depths.
Jace , she began.
But with a jerk and a clatter, the elevator was already moving, carrying her down into the dark silence of the cathedral.

Earth to Clary. Simon waved his hands at her. You awake?
Yeah, sorry. She sat up, shaking her

head to clear it of cobwebs. That had been the last time shed seen
Jace. He hadnt picked up the phone when shed called him afterward, so shed made all her plans to travel to
Idris with the Lightwoods using
Alec as reluctant and embarrassed point person. Poor Alec, stuck between Jace and his mother, always trying to do the right thing.
Did you say something?
Just that I think Luke is back, Simon said, and jumped off the desk just as the bedroom door opened. And he

is.
Hey, Simon. Luke sounded calm, maybe a little tiredhe was wearing a battered denim jacket, a flannel shirt, and old cords tucked into boots that looked like theyd seen their best days ten years ago. His glasses were pushed up into his brown hair, which seemed flecked with more gray now than Clary remembered. There was a square package under his arm, tied with a length of green ribbon. He held it out to Clary. I got you something for

your trip.
You didnt have to do that! Clary protested. You ve done so much . She thought of the clothes he d bought her after everything she owned had been destroyed. Hed given her a new phone, new art supplies, without ever having to be asked.
Almost everything she owned now was a gift from Luke. And you dont even approve of the fact that Im going. That last thought hung unspoken between them.
I know. But I saw it, and I thought of

you. He handed over the box.
The object inside was swathed in layers of tissue paper. Clary tore through it, her hand seizing on something soft as kittens fur. She gave a little gasp. It was a bottlegreen velvet coat, old-fashioned, with a gold silk lining, brass buttons, and a wide hood. She drew it onto her lap, smoothing her hands lovingly down the soft material. It looks like something Isabelle would wear, she exclaimed. Like a
Shadowhunter traveling cloak.

Exactly. Now youll be dressed more like one of them, Luke said.
When you re in Idris.
She looked up at him. Do you want me to look like one of them?
Clary, you are one of them. His smile was tinged with sadness.
Besides, you know how they treat outsiders. Anything you can do to fit in Simon made an odd noise, and
Clary looked guiltily at himshed almost forgotten he was there. He was looking studiously at his watch.

I should go.
But you just got here! Clary protested. I thought we could hang out, watch a movie or something
You need to pack. Simon smiled, bright as sunshine after rain. She could almost believe there was nothing bothering him. Ill come by later to say good-bye before you go.
Oh, come on, Clary protested. Stay
I cant. His tone was final. Im meeting Maia.
Oh. Great, Clary said. Maia, she told herself, was nice. She was

smart. She was pretty. She was also a werewolf. A werewolf with a crush on Simon. But maybe that was as it should be. Maybe his new friend should be a Downworlder.
After all, he was a Downworlder himself now. Technically, he shouldn t even be spending time with
Shadowhunters like Clary. I guess you d better go, then.
I guess Id better. Simons dark eyes were unreadable. This was newshed always been able to read
Simon before. She wondered if it

was a side effect of the vampirism, or something else entirely. Goodbye, he said, and bent as if to kiss her on the cheek, sweeping her hair back with one of his hands. Then he paused and drew back, his expression uncertain. She frowned in surprise, but he was already gone, brushing past Luke in the doorway. She heard the front door bang in the distance.
Hes acting so weird, she exclaimed, hugging the velvet coat against herself for reassurance. Do you

think it s the whole vampire thing?
Probably not. Luke looked faintly amused. Becoming a Downworlder doesnt change the way you feel about things. Or people. Give him time. You did break up with him.
I did not. He broke up with me.
Because you werent in love with him. Thats an iffy proposition, and I think hes handling it with grace. A lot of teenage boys would sulk, or lurk around under your window with a boom box.
No one has a boom box anymore.

That was the eighties. Clary scrambled off the bed, pulling the coat on. She buttoned it up to the neck, luxuriating in the soft feel of the velvet. I just want Simon to go back to normal. She glanced at herself in the mirror and was pleasantly surprisedthe green made her red hair stand out and brightened the color of her eyes.
She turned to Luke. What do you think? He was leaning in the doorway with his hands in his pockets; a shadow

passed over his face as he looked at her. Your mother had a coat just like that when she was your age, was all he said.
Clary clutched the cuffs of the coat, digging her fingers into the soft pile.
The mention of her mother, mixed with the sadness in his expression, was making her want to cry. Were going to see her later today, right? she asked. I want to say good-bye before I go, and tell hertell her what
Im doing. That shes going to be okay. Luke nodded. We ll visit the hospital later today. And, Clary?
What? She almost didnt want to look at him, but to her relief, when she did, the sadness was gone from his eyes.
He smiled. Normal isnt all its cracked up to be.

Simon glanced down at the paper in his hand and then at the cathedral,

his eyes slitted against the afternoon sun. The Institute rose up against the high blue sky, a slab of granite windowed with pointed arches and surrounded by a high stone wall.
Gargoyle faces leered down from its cornices, as if daring him to approach the front door. It didnt look anything like it had the first time he had ever seen it, disguised as a run-down ruin, but then glamours didnt work on
Downworlders.
You dont belong here. The words

were harsh, sharp as acid; Simon wasnt sure if it was the gargoyle speaking or the voice in his own mind. This is a church, and you are damned. Shut up, he muttered halfheartedly.
Besides, I dont care about churches.
I m Jewish.
There was a filigreed iron gate set into the stone wall. Simon put his hand to the latch, half-expecting his skin to sear with pain, but nothing happened. Apparently the gate itself wasnt particularly holy. He pushed

it open and was halfway up the cracked stonework path to the front door when he heard voicesseveral of them, and familiar nearby.
Or maybe not that nearby. He had nearly forgotten how much his hearing, like his sight, had sharpened since hed been Turned. It sounded as if the voices were just over his shoulder, but as he followed a narrow path around the side of the Institute, he saw that the people were standing quite a distance away, at the far end of the

grounds. The grass grew wild here, half-covering the branching paths that led among what had probably once been neatly arranged rosebushes. There was even a stone bench, webbed with green weeds; this had been a real church once, before the Shadowhunters had taken it over.
He saw Magnus first, leaning against a mossy stone wall. It was hard to miss Magnus he was wearing a splash-painted white T-shirt over rainbow leather trousers. He stood

out like a hothouse orchid, surrounded by the black-clad
Shadowhunters: Alec, looking pale and uncomfortable; Isabelle, her long black hair twisted into braids tied with silver ribbons, standing beside a little boy who had to be
Max, the youngest. Nearby was their mother, looking like a taller, bonier version of her daughter, with the same long black hair. Beside her was a woman Simon didnt know. At first Simon thought she was old, since her hair was nearly white, but

then she turned to speak to Maryse and he saw that she probably wasnt more than thirty-five or forty.
And then there was Jace, standing off at a little distance, as if he didnt quite belong. He was all in
Shadowhunter black like the others.
When Simon wore all black, he looked like he was on his way to a funeral, but Jace just looked tough and dangerous. And blonder. Simon felt his shoulders tighten and wondered if anythingtime, or forgetfulnesswould ever dilute his

resentment of Jace. He didnt want to feel it, but there it was, a stone weighting down his unbeating heart.
Something seemed odd about the gatheringbut then Jace turned toward him, as if sensing he was there, and Simon saw, even from this distance, the thin white scar on his throat, just above his collar. The resentment in his chest faded into something else. Jace dropped a small nod in his direction. Ill be right back, he said to Maryse, in the sort of voice Simon would never

have used with his own mother. He sounded like an adult talking to another adult.
Maryse indicated her permission with a distracted wave. I dont see why its taking so long, she was saying to Magnus. Is that normal?
Whats not normal is the discount Im giving you. Magnus tapped the heel of his boot against the wall.
Normally I charge twice this much.
Its only a temporary Portal. It just has to get us to Idris. And then I expect you to close it back up again.

That is our agreement. She turned to the woman at her side. And youll remain here to witness that he does it, Madeleine?
Madeleine. So this was Jocelyns friend. There was no time to stare, thoughJace already had Simon by the arm and was dragging him around the side of the church, out of view of the others. It was even more weedy and overgrown back here, the path snaked with ropes of undergrowth. Jace pushed Simon behind a large oak tree and let go of

him, darting his eyes around as if to make sure they hadnt been followed. Its okay. We can talk here. It was quieter back here certainly, the rush of traffic from York
Avenue muffled behind the bulk of the Institute. Youre the one who asked me here, Simon pointed out. I got your message stuck to my window when I woke up this morning. Dont you ever use the phone like normal people?
Not if I can avoid it, vampire, said

Jace. He was studying Simon thoughtfully, as if he were reading the pages of a book. Mingled in his expression were two conflicting emotions: a faint amazement and what looked to Simon like disappointment. So its still true.
You can walk in the sunlight. Even midday sun doesn t burn you.
Yes, Simon said. But you knew thatyou were there. He didnt have to elaborate on what there meant; he could see in the other boys face that he remembered the river, the back

of the truck, the sun rising over the water, Clary crying out. He remembered it just as well as
Simon did.
I thought perhaps it might have worn off, Jace said, but he didnt sound as if he meant it.
If I feel the urge to burst into flames,
Ill let you know. Simon never had much patience with Jace. Look, did you ask me to come all the way uptown just so you could stare at me like I was something in a petri dish?
Next time I ll send you a photo.

And Ill frame it and put it on my nightstand, said Jace, but he didnt sound as if his heart were in the sarcasm. Look, I asked you here for a reason. Much as I hate to admit it, vampire, we have something in common. Totally awesome hair? Simon suggested, but his heart wasnt really in it either. Something about the look on Jaces face was making him increasingly uneasy.
Clary, Jace said.
Simon was caught off guard. Clary?

Clary, Jace said again. You know: short, redheaded, bad temper.
I dont see how Clary is something we have in common, Simon said, although he did. Nevertheless, this wasn t a conversation he particularly wanted to have with Jace now, or, in fact, ever. Wasnt there some sort of manly code that precluded discussions like thisdiscussions about feelings?
Apparently not. We both care about her, Jace stated, giving him a measured look. Shes important to

both of us. Right?
Youre asking me if I care about her? Caring seemed like a pretty insufficient word for it. He wondered if Jace was making fun of himwhich seemed unusually cruel, even for Jace. Had Jace brought him over here just to mock him because it hadnt worked out romantically between Clary and himself? Though
Simon still had hope, at least a little, that things might change, that
Jace and Clary would start to feel about each other the way they were

supposed to, the way siblings were meant to feel about each other
He met Jaces gaze and felt that little hope shrivel. The look on the other boys face wasnt the look brothers got when they talked about their sisters. On the other hand, it was obvious Jace hadnt brought him over here to mock him for his feelings; the misery Simon knew must be plainly written across his own features was mirrored in Jaces eyes. Dont think I like asking you these

questions, Jace snapped. I need to know what youd do for Clary.
Would you lie for her?
Lie about what? Whats going on, anyway? Simon realized what it was that had bothered him about the tableau of Shadowhunters in the garden. Wait a second, he said.
Youre leaving for Idris right now?
Clary thinks you re going tonight.
I know, Jace said. And I need you to tell the others that Clary sent you here to say she wasnt coming. Tell them she doesnt want to go to Idris

anymore. There was an edge to his voicesomething Simon barely recognized, or perhaps it was simply so strange coming from Jace that he couldnt process it. Jace was pleading with him. Theyll believe you. They know howhow close you two are.
Simon shook his head. I cant believe you. You act like you want me to do something for Clary, but actually you just want me to do something for you. He started to turn away. No deal.

Jace caught his arm, spinning him back around. This is for Clary. Im trying to protect her. I thought youd be at least a little interested in helping me do that.
Simon looked pointedly at Jaces hand where it clamped his upper arm. How can I protect her if you dont tell me what Im protecting her from? Jace didnt let go. Cant you just trust me that this is important?
You dont understand how badly she wants to go to Idris, Simon said. If

Im going to keep that from happening, there had better be a damn good reason.
Jace exhaled slowly, reluctantlyand let go his grip on Simons arm. What
Clary did on Valentines ship, he said, his voice low. With the rune on the wallthe Rune of Openingwell, you saw what happened. She destroyed the ship, said Simon.
Saved all our lives.
Keep your voice down. Jace glanced around anxiously.

Youre not saying no one else knows about that, are you? Simon demanded in disbelief.
I know. You know. Luke knows and
Magnus knows. No one else.
What do they all think happened?
The ship just opportunely came apart? I told them Valentines Ritual of
Conversion must have gone wrong.
You lied to the Clave? Simon wasnt sure whether to be impressed or dismayed. Yes, I lied to the Clave. Isabelle

and Alec know Clary has some ability to create new runes, so I doubt Ill be able to keep that from the Clave or the new Inquisitor. But if they knew she could do what she doesamplify ordinary runes so they have incredible destructive powertheyd want her as a fighter, a weapon. And shes not equipped for that. She wasnt brought up for it He broke off, as Simon shook his head.
What?
Youre Nephilim, Simon said slowly. Shouldnt you want whats

best for the Clave? If thats using
Clary
You want them to have her? To put her in the front lines, up against
Valentine and whatever army hes raising? No, said Simon. I dont want that.
But Im not one of you. I dont have to ask myself who to put first, Clary or my family.
Jace flushed a slow, dark red. Its not like that. If I thought it would help the Clavebut it wont. Shell just get hurt

Even if you thought it would help the Clave, Simon said, youd never let them have her.
What makes you say that, vampire?
Because no one can have her but you, said Simon.
The color left Jaces face. So you wont help me, he said in disbelief.
You won t help her?
Simon hesitatedand before he could respond, a noise split the silence between them. A high, shrieking cry, terrible in its desperation, and worse for the abruptness with

which it was cut off. Jace whirled around. What was that?
The single shriek was joined by other cries, and a harsh clanging that scraped Simons eardrums.
Something s happened the others
But Jace was already gone, running along the path, dodging the undergrowth. After a moments hesitation Simon followed. He had forgotten how fast he could run nowhe was hard on Jaces heels as they rounded the corner of the church and burst out into the garden.

Before them was chaos. A white mist blanketed the garden, and there was a heavy smell in the airthe sharp tang of ozone and something else under it, sweet and unpleasant.
Figures darted back and forthSimon could see them only in fragments, as they appeared and disappeared through gaps in the fog. He glimpsed Isabelle, her hair snapping around her in black ropes as she swung her whip. It made a deadly fork of golden lightning through the shadows. She was fending off the

advance of something lumbering and hugea demon, Simon thoughtbut it was full daylight; that was impossible. As he stumbled forward, he saw that the creature was humanoid in shape, but humped and twisted, somehow wrong. It carried a thick wooden plank in one hand and was swinging at Isabelle almost blindly.
Only a short distance away, through a gap in the stone wall, Simon could see the traffic on York Avenue rumbling placidly by. The sky

beyond the Institute was clear.
Forsaken, Jace whispered. His face was blazing as he drew one of his seraph blades from his belt. Dozens of them. He pushed Simon to the side, almost roughly. Stay here, do you understand? Stay here.
Simon stood frozen for a moment as
Jace plunged forward into the mist.
The light of the blade in his hand lit the fog around him to silver; dark figures dashed back and forth inside it, and Simon felt as if he were gazing through a pane of frosted

glass, desperately trying to make out what was happening on the other side. Isabelle had vanished; he saw
Alec, his arm bleeding, as he sliced through the chest of a Forsaken warrior and watched it crumple to the ground. Another reared up behind him, but Jace was there, now with a blade in each hand; he leaped into the air and brought them up and then down with a vicious scissoring movementand the Forsakens head tumbled free of its neck, black blood spurting. Simons

stomach wrenchedthe blood smelled bitter, poisonous.
He could hear the Shadowhunters calling to one another out of the mist, though the Forsaken were utterly silent. Suddenly the mist cleared, and Simon saw Magnus, standing wild-eyed by the wall of the Institute. His hands were raised, blue lightning sparking between them, and against the wall where he stood, a square black hole seemed to be opening in the stone. It wasnt empty, or dark precisely, but shone

like a mirror with whirling fire trapped within its glass. The Portal! he was shouting. Go through the
Portal!
Several things happened at once.
Maryse Lightwood appeared out of the mist, carrying the boy, Max, in her arms. She paused to call something over her shoulder and then plunged toward the Portal and through it, vanishing into the wall.
Alec followed, dragging Isabelle after him, her blood-spattered whip trailing on the ground. As he pulled

her toward the Portal, something surged up out of the mist behind thema Forsaken warrior, swinging a double-bladed knife.
Simon unfroze. Darting forward, he called out Isabelles namethen stumbled and pitched forward, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him, if hed had any breath. He scrambled into a sitting position, turning to see what he d tripped over.
It was a body. The body of a woman, her throat slit, her eyes

wide and blue in death. Blood stained her pale hair. Madeleine.
Simon, move! It was Jace, shouting;
Simon looked and saw the other boy running toward him out of the fog, bloody seraph blades in his hands.
Then he looked up. The Forsaken warrior hed seen chasing Isabelle loomed over him, its scarred face twisted into a rictus grin. Simon twisted away as the double-bladed knife swung down toward him, but even with his improved reflexes, he wasnt fast enough. A searing pain

shot through him as everything went black. 2

THE DEMON TOWERS OF
ALICANTE

There was no amount of magic,
Clary thought as she and Luke circled the block for the third time,

that could create new parking spaces on a New York City street.
There was nowhere for the truck to pull in, and half the street was double-parked. Finally Luke pulled up at a hydrant and shifted the pickup into neutral with a sigh. Go on, he said. Let them know youre here. I ll bring your suitcase.
Clary nodded, but hesitated before reaching for the door handle. Her stomach was tight with anxiety, and she wished, not for the first time, that Luke were going with her. I

always thought that the first time I went overseas, Id have a passport with me at least.
Luke didnt smile. I know youre nervous, he said. But itll be all right. The Lightwoods will take good care of you.
Ive only told you that a million times, Clary thought. She patted
Lukes shoulder lightly before jumping down from the truck. See you in a few.
She made her way down the cracked stone path, the sound of

traffic fading as she neared the church doors. It took her several moments to peel the glamour off the
Institute this time. It felt as if another layer of disguise had been added to the old cathedral, like a new coat of paint. Scraping it off with her mind felt hard, even painful. Finally it was gone and she could see the church as it was. The high wooden doors gleamed as if they d just been polished.
There was a strange smell in the air, like ozone and burning. With a

frown she put her hand to the knob.
I am Clary Morgenstern, one of the Nephilim, and I ask entrance to the Institute
The door swung open. Clary stepped inside. She looked around, blinking, trying to identify what it was that felt somehow different about the cathedral s interior.
She realized it as the door swung shut behind her, trapping her in a blackness relieved only by the dim glow of the rose window far overhead. She had never been

inside the entrance to the Institute when there had not been dozens of flames lit in the elaborate candelabras lining the aisle between the pews.
She took her witchlight stone out of her pocket and held it up. Light blazed from it, sending shining spokes of illumination flaring out between her fingers. It lit the dusty corners of the cathedrals interior as she made her way to the elevator near the bare altar and jabbed impatiently at the call button.

Nothing happened. After half a minute she pressed the button againand again. She laid her ear against the elevator door and listened. Not a sound. The Institute had gone dark and silent, like a mechanical doll whose clockwork heart had run down.
Her heart pounding now, Clary hurried back down the aisle and pushed the heavy doors open. She stood on the front steps of the church, glancing about frantically.
The sky was darkening to cobalt

overhead, and the air smelled even more strongly of burning. Had there been a fire? Had the Shadowhunters evacuated? But the place looked untouched . It wasnt a fire. The voice was soft, velvety and familiar. A tall figure materialized out of the shadows, hair sticking up in a corona of ungainly spikes. He wore a black silk suit over a shimmering emerald green shirt, and brightly jeweled rings on his narrow fingers. There were fancy boots involved as well,

and a good deal of glitter.
Magnus? Clary whispered.
I know what you were thinking,
Magnus said. But there was no fire.
That smell is hellmistits a sort of enchanted demonic smoke. It mutes the effects of certain kinds of magic.
Demonic mist? Then there was
An attack on the Institute. Yes.
Earlier
this afternoon. Forsakenprobably a few dozen of them. Jace, Clary whispered. The
Lightwoods

The hellsmoke muted my ability to fight the Forsaken effectively.
Theirs, too. I had to send them through the Portal into Idris.
But none of them were hurt?
Madeleine,
said
Magnus.
Madeleine was killed. Im sorry,
Clary.
Clary sank down onto the steps. She hadnt known the older woman well, but Madeleine had been a tenuous connection to her motherher real mother, the tough, fighting
Shadowhunter that Clary had never

known.
Clary? Luke was coming up the path through the gathering dark. He had
Clarys suitcase in one hand. Whats going on?
Clary sat hugging her knees while
Magnus explained. Underneath her pain for Madeleine she was full of a guilty relief. Jace was all right. The
Lightwoods were all right. She said it over and over to herself, silently.
Jace was all right.
The Forsaken, Luke said. They were all killed?

Not all of them. Magnus shook his head. After I sent the Lightwoods through the Portal, the Forsaken dispersed; they didnt seem interested in me. By the time I shut the Portal, they were all gone.
Clary raised her head. The Portals closed? Butyou can still send me to
Idris, right? she asked. I mean, I can go through the Portal and join the
Lightwoods there, can t I?
Luke and Magnus exchanged a look.
Luke set the suitcase down by his feet. Magnus? Clarys voice rose, shrill in her own ears. I have to go.
The Portal is closed, Clary
Then open another one!
Its not that easy, the warlock said.
The Clave guards any magical entry into Alicante very carefully. Their capital is a holy place to themits like their Vatican, their Forbidden
City. No Downworlders can come there without permission, and no mundanes. But I m a Shadowhunter!
Only barely, said Magnus. Besides,

the towers prevent direct Portaling to the city. To open a Portal that went through to Alicante, Id have to have them standing by on the other side expecting you. If I tried to send you through on my own, it would be in direct contravention of the Law, and Im not willing to risk that for you, biscuit, no matter how much I might like you personally.
Clary looked from Magnuss regretful face to Lukes wary one.
But I need to get to Idris, she said. I need to help my mother. There must

be some other way to get there, some way that doesnt involve a
Portal.
The nearest airport is a country over, Luke said. If we could get across the borderand thats a big ifthere would be a long and dangerous overland journey after that, through all sorts of
Downworlder territory. It could take us days to get there.
Clarys eyes were burning. I will not cry, she told herself. I will not.
Clary. Lukes voice was gentle.

Well get in touch with the
Lightwoods. Well make sure they have all the information they need to get the antidote for Jocelyn. They can contact Fell
But Clary was on her feet, shaking her head. It has to be me, she said.
Madeleine said Fell wouldnt talk to anyone else.
Fell? Ragnor Fell? Magnus echoed.
I can try to get a message to him. Let him know to expect Jace.
Some of the worry cleared from
Lukes face. Clary, do you hear that?

With Magnus s help
But Clary didnt want to hear any more about Magnuss help. She didnt want to hear anything. She had thought she was going to save her mother, and now there was going to be nothing for her to do but sit by her mothers bedside, hold her limp hand, and hope someone else, somewhere else, would be able to do what she couldn t.
She scrambled down the steps, pushing past Luke when he tried to reach out for her. I just need to be

alone for a second.
Clary She heard Luke call out to her, but she pulled away from him, darting around the side of the cathedral. She found herself following the stone path where it forked, making her way toward the small garden on the Institutes east side, toward the smell of char and ashesand a thick, sharp smell under that. The smell of demonic magic.
There was mist in the garden still, scattered bits of it like trails of cloud caught here and there on the

edge of a rosebush or hiding under a stone. She could see where the earth had been churned up earlier by the fightingand there was a dark red stain there, by one of the stone benches, that she didnt want to look at long.
Clary turned her head away. And paused. There, against the wall of the cathedral, were the unmistakable marks of rune-magic, glowing a hot, fading blue against the gray stone. They formed a squarish outline, like the outline of

light around a half-open door .
The Portal.
Something inside her seemed to twist. She remembered other symbols, shining dangerously against the smooth metal hull of a ship. She remembered the shudder the ship had given as it had wrenched itself apart, the black water of the East River pouring in.
Theyre just runes, she thought.
Symbols. I can draw them. If my mother can trap the essence of the
Mortal Cup inside a piece of

paper, then I can make a Portal.
She found her feet carrying her to the cathedral wall, her hand reaching into her pocket for her stele. Willing her hand not to shake, she set the tip of the stele to the stone. She squeezed her eyelids shut and, against the darkness behind them, began to draw with her mind in curving lines of light. Lines that spoke to her of doorways, of being carried on whirling air, of travel and faraway places. The lines came

together in a rune as graceful as a bird in flight. She didnt know if it was a rune that had existed before or one she had invented, but it existed now as if it always had.
Portal.
She began to draw, the marks leaping out from the steles tip in charcoaled black lines. The stone sizzled, filling her nose with the acidic smell of burning. Hot blue light grew against her closed eyelids. She felt heat on her face, as if she stood in front of a fire. With a

gasp she lowered her hand, opening her eyes.
The rune she had drawn was a dark flower blossoming on the stone wall. As she watched, the lines of it seemed to melt and change, flowing gently down, unfurling, reshaping themselves. Within moments the shape of the rune had changed. It was now the outline of a glowing doorway, several feet taller than
Clary herself.
She couldnt tear her eyes from the doorway. It shone with the same

dark light as the Portal behind the curtain at Madame Dorotheas. She reached out for it
And recoiled. To use a Portal, she remembered with a sinking feeling, you had to imagine where you wanted to go, where you wanted the
Portal to take you. But she had never been to Idris. It had been described to her, of course. A place of green valleys, of dark woods and bright water, of lakes and moun tains, and Alicante, the city of glass towers. She could imagine what it

might look like, but imagination wasnt enough, not with this magic.
If only
She took a sudden sharp breath. But she had seen Idris. Shed seen it in a dream, and she knew, without knowing how she knew, that it had been a true dream. After all, what had Jace said to her in the dream about Simon? That he couldnt stay because this place is for the living?
And not long after that, Simon had died . She cast her memory back to the

dream. She had been dancing in a ballroom in Alicante. The walls had been gold and white, with a clear, diamondlike roof overhead. There had been a fountaina silver dish with a mermaid statue at the centerand lights strung in the trees outside the windows, and Clary had been wearing green velvet, just as she was now.
As if she were still in the dream, she reached for the Portal. A bright light spread under the touch of her fingers, a door opening onto a

lighted place beyond. She found herself staring into a whirling golden maelstrom that slowly began to coalesce into discernible shapesshe thought she could see the outline of mountains, a piece of sky
Clary! It was Luke, racing up the path, his face a mask of anger and dismay. Behind him strode Magnus, his cat eyes shining like metal in the hot Portal light that bathed the garden. Clary, stop! The wards are dangerous! Youll get yourself killed! But there was no stopping now.
Beyond the Portal the golden light was growing. She thought of the gold walls of the Hall in her dream, the golden light refracting off the cut glass everywhere. Luke was wrong; he didnt understand her gift, how it worked what did wards matter when you could create your own reality just by drawing it? I have to go, she cried, moving forward, her fingertips outstretched. Luke, Im sorry She stepped forwardand with a last,

swift leap, he was at her side, catching at her wrist, just as the
Portal seemed to explode all around them. Like a tornado snatching a tree up by the roots, the force yanked them both off their feet.
Clary caught a last glimpse of the cars and buildings of Manhattan spinning away from her, vanishing as a whiplash-hard current of wind caught her, sending her hurtling, her wrist still in Lukes iron grip, into a whirling golden chaos.

Simon awoke to the rhythmic slap of water. He sat up, sudden terror freezing his chestthe last time hed woken up to the sound of waves, hed been a prisoner on Valentines ship, and the soft liquid noise brought him back to that terrible time with an immediacy that was like a dash of ice water in the face.
But noa quick look around told him that he was somewhere else

entirely. For one thing, he was lying under soft blankets on a comfortable wooden bed in a small, clean room whose walls were painted a pale blue. Dark curtains were drawn over the window, but the faint light around their edges was enough for his vampires eyes to see clearly.
There was a bright rug on the floor and a mirrored cupboard on one wall. There was also an armchair pulled up to the side of the bed. Simon sat up, the blankets falling away, and

realized two things: one, that he was still wearing the same jeans and T-shirt hed been wearing when hed headed to the Institute to meet
Jace; and two, that the person in the chair was dozing, her head propped on her hand, her long black hair spilling down like a fringed shawl.
Isabelle? Simon said.
Her head popped up like a startled jack-in-the-boxs, her eyes flying open. Oooh! Youre awake! She sat up straight, flicking her hair back.
Jacell be so relieved. We were

almost totally sure you were going to die.
Die? Simon echoed. He felt dizzy and a little sick. From what? He glanced around the room, blinking.
Am I in the Institute? he asked, and realized the moment the words were out of his mouth that, of course, that was impossible. I meanwhere are we? An uneasy flicker passed across
Isabelles face. Wellyou mean, you dont remember what happened in the garden? She tugged nervously at

the crochet trim that bordered the chairs upholstery. The Forsaken attacked us. There were a lot of them, and the hellmist made it hard to fight them. Magnus opened up the
Portal, and we were all running into it when I saw you coming toward us. You tripped overover
Madeleine. And there was a
Forsaken just behind you; you must not have seen him, but Jace did. He tried to get to you, but it was too late. The Forsaken stuck his knife into you. You bleda lot. And Jace

killed the Forsaken and picked you up and dragged you through the
Portal with him, she finished, speaking so rapidly that her words blurred together and Simon had to strain to catch them. And we were already on the other side, and let me tell you, everyone was pretty surprised when Jace came through with you bleeding all over him. The
Consul wasn t at all pleased.
Simons mouth was dry. The
Forsaken stuck his knife into me? It seemed impossible. But then, he had

healed before, after Valentine had cut his throat. Still, he at least ought t o remember. Shaking his head, he looked down at himself. Where?
Ill show you. Much to his surprise, a moment later Isabelle was seated on the bed beside him, her cool hands on his midriff. She pushed his
T-shirt up, baring a strip of pale stomach, bisected by a thin red line.
It was barely a scar. Here, she said, her fingers gliding over it. Is there any pain?
N-no. The first time Simon had ever

seen Isabelle, hed found her so striking, so alight with life and vitality and energy, hed thought hed finally found a girl who burned bright enough to blot out the image of Clary that always seemed to be printed on the inside of his eyelids.
It was right around the time shed gotten him turned into a rat at
Magnus Banes loft party that hed realized maybe Isabelle burned a little too bright for an ordinary guy like him. It doesn t hurt.
But my eyes do, said a coolly

amused voice from the doorway.
Jace. He had come in so quietly that even Simon hadnt heard him; closing the door behind him, he grinned as Isabelle pulled Simons shirt down. Molesting the vampire while hes too weak to fight back,
Iz? he asked. Im pretty sure that violates at least one of the Accords.
Im just showing him where he got stabbed, Isabelle protested, but she scooted back to her chair with a certain amount of haste. Whats going on downstairs? she asked. Is

everyone still freaking out?
The smile left Jaces face. Maryse has gone up to the Gard with
Patrick, he said. The Claves in session and Malachi thought it would be better if sheexplainedin person. Malachi. Patrick. Gard. The unfamiliar names whirled through
Simon s head. Explained what?
Isabelle and Jace exchanged a look.
Explained you, Jace said finally.
Explained why we brought a vampire with us to Alicante, which

is, by the way, expressly against the
Law.
To Alicante? Were in Alicante? A wave of blank panic washed over
Simon, quickly replaced by a pain that shot through his midsection. He doubled over, gasping.
Simon! Isabelle reached out her hand, alarm in her dark eyes. Are you all right?
Go away, Isabelle. Simon, his hands fisted against his stomach, looked up at Jace, pleading in his voice. Make her go.

Isabelle recoiled, a hurt look on her face. Fine. Ill go. You dont have to tell me twice. She flounced to her feet and out of the room, banging the door behind her.
Jace turned to Simon, his amber eyes expressionless. Whats going on? I thought you were healing.
Simon threw up a hand to ward the other boy off. A metallic taste burned in the back of his throat. Its not Isabelle, he ground out. Im not hurtIm justhungry. He felt his cheeks burn. I lost blood, soI need to

replace it.
Of course, Jace said, in the tone of someone who s just been enlightened by an interesting, if not particularly necessary, scientific fact. The faint concern left his expression, to be replaced by something that looked to Simon like amused contempt. It struck a chord of fury inside him, and if he hadnt been so debilitated by pain, he would have flung himself off the bed and onto the other boy in a rage. As it was, all he could do was gasp, Screw you,

Wayland.
Wayland, is it? The amused look didn t leave Jace s face, but his hands went to his throat and began to unzip his jacket.
No! Simon shrank back on the bed. I dont care how hungry I am. Im not drinking your blood again.
Jaces mouth twisted. Like Id let you. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and drew out a glass flask. It was half-full of a thin red-brown liquid. I thought you might need this, he said. I squeezed

the juice out of a few pounds of raw meat in the kitchen. It was the best I could do.
Simon took the flask from Jace with hands that were shaking so badly that the other boy had to unscrew the top for him. The liquid inside was foultoo thin and salty to be proper blood, and with that faint unpleasant taste that Simon knew meant the meat had been a few days old. Ugh, he said, after a few swallows.
Dead blood.

Jaces eyebrows went up. Isnt all blood dead?
The longer the animal whose blood
Im drinking has been dead, the worse the blood tastes, Simon explained. Fresh is better.
But youve never drunk fresh blood.
Have you?
Simon raised his own eyebrows in response. Well, aside from mine, of course,
Jace said. And Im sure my blood is fan-tastic. Simon set the empty flask down on

the arm of the chair by the bed.
Theres something very wrong with you, he said. Mentally, I mean. His mouth still tasted of spoiled blood, but the pain was gone. He felt better, stronger, as if the blood were a medicine that worked instantly, a drug he had to have to live. He wondered if this was what it was like for heroin addicts. So Im in Idris.
Alicante, to be specific, said Jace.
The capital city. The only city, really. He went to the window and

drew back the curtains. The
Penhallows didnt really believe us, he said. That the sun wouldnt bother you. They put these blackout curtains up. But you should look.
Rising from the bed, Simon joined
Jace at the window. And stared.
A few years ago his mother had taken him and his sister on a trip to
Tuscanya week of heavy, unfamiliar pasta dishes, unsalted bread, hardy brown countryside, and his mother speeding down narrow, twisting roads, barely avoiding crashing

their Fiat into the beautiful old buildings theyd ostensibly come to see. He remembered stopping on a hillside just opposite a town called
San Gimignano, a collection of rustcolored buildings dotted here and there with high towers whose tops soared upward as if reaching for the sky. If what he was looking at now reminded him of anything, it was that; but it was also so alien that it was genuinely unlike anything hed ever seen before.
He was looking out of an upper

window in what must have been a fairly tall house. If he glanced up, he could see stone eaves and sky beyond. Across the way was another house, not quite as tall as this one, and between them ran a narrow, dark canal, crossed here and there by bridgesthe source of the water hed heard before. The house seemed to be built partway up a hillbelow it honey-colored stone houses, clustered along narrow streets, fell away to the edge of a green circle: woods,

surrounded by hills that were very far away; from here they resembled long green and brown strips dotted with bursts of autumn colors.
Behind the hills rose jagged mountains frosted with snow.
But none of that was what was strange; what was strange was that here and there in the city, placed seemingly at random, rose soaring towers crowned with spires of reflective whitish-silvery material.
They seemed to pierce the sky like shining daggers, and Simon realized

where he had seen that material before: in the hard, glasslike weapons the
Shadowhunters
carried, the ones they called seraph blades. Those are the demon towers, Jace said, in response to Simons unasked question. They control the wards that protect the city. Because of them, no demon can enter Alicante.
The air that came in through the window was cold and clean, the sort of air you never breathed in
New York City: It tasted of nothing,

not dirt or smoke or metal or other people. Just air. Simon took a deep, unnecessary breath of it before he turned to look at Jace; some human habits died hard. Tell me, he said, that bringing me here was an accident. Tell me this wasnt somehow all part of you wanting to stop Clary from coming with you.
Jace didnt look at him, but his chest rose and fell once, quickly, in a sort of suppressed gasp. Thats right, he said. I created a bunch of Forsaken warriors, had them attack the

Institute and kill Madeleine and nearly kill the rest of us, just so that
I could keep Clary at home. And lo and behold, my diabolical plan is working. Well, it is working, Simon said quietly. Isn t it?
Listen, vampire, Jace said. Keeping
Clary from Idris was the plan.
Bringing you here was not the plan.
I brought you through the Portal because if Id left you behind, bleeding and unconscious, the
Forsaken would have killed you.

You could have stayed behind with me They would have killed us both. I couldnt even tell how many of them there were, not with the hellmist.
Even I cant fight off a hundred
Forsaken.
And yet, Simon said, I bet it pains you to admit that.
Youre an ass, Jace said, without inflection, even for a Downworlder.
I saved your life and I broke the
Law to do it. Not for the first time, I might add. You could show a little

gratitude.
Gratitude? Simon felt his fingers curl in against his palms. If you hadnt dragged me to the Institute, I wouldnt be here. I never agreed to this. You did, said Jace, when you said youd do anything for Clary. This is anything. Before Simon could snap back an angry retort, there was a knock on the door. Hello? Isabelle called from the other side. Simon, is your diva moment over? I need to talk to

Jace.
Come in, Izzy. Jace didnt take his eyes off Simon; there was an electric anger in his gaze, and a sort of challenge that made Simon long to hit him with something heavy.
Like a pickup truck.
Isabelle entered the room in a swirl of black hair and tiered silvery skirts. The ivory corset top she wore left her arms and shoulders, twined with inky runes, bare. Simon supposed it was a nice change of pace for her to be able to show her

Marks off in a place where no one would think them out of the ordinary. Alecs going up to the Gard, Isabelle said without preamble. He wants to talk to you about Simon before he leaves. Can you come downstairs?
Sure. Jace headed for the door; halfway there, he realized Simon was following him and turned with a glower. You stay here.
No, Simon said. If youre going to be discussing me, I want to be there for it. For a moment it looked as if Jaces icy calm were about to snap; he flushed and opened his mouth, his eyes flashing. Just as quickly, the anger vanished, tamped down by an obvious act of will. He gritted his teeth and smiled. Fine, he said.
Come on downstairs, vampire. You can meet the whole happy family.

The first time Clary had gone

through a Portal, there had been a sense of flying, of weightless tumbling. This time it was like being thrust into the heart of a tornado. Howling winds tore at her, ripped her hand from Lukes and the scream from her mouth. She fell whirling through the heart of a black and gold maelstrom.
Something flat and hard and silvery like the surface of a mirror rose up in front of her. She plunged toward it, shrieking, throwing her hands up to cover her face. She struck the

surface and broke through, into a world of brutal cold and gasping suffocation. She was sinking through a thick blue darkness, trying to breathe, but she couldnt draw air into her lungs, only more of the freezing coldness
Suddenly she was seized by the back of her coat and hauled upward.
She kicked feebly but was too weak to break the hold on her. It drew her up, and the indigo darkness around her turned to pale blue and then to gold as she broke the surface of the

waterit was waterand sucked in a gasp of air. Or tried to. Instead she choked and gagged, black spots dotting her vision. She was being dragged through the water, fast, weeds catching and tugging at her legs and armsshe twisted around in the grip that held her and caught a terrifying glimpse of something, not quite wolf and not quite human, ears as pointed as daggers and lips drawn back from sharp white teeth.
She tried to scream, but only water came up.

A moment later she was out of the water and being flung onto damp hard-packed earth. There were hands on her shoulders, slamming her facedown against the ground.
The hands struck her back, over and over, until her chest spasmed and she coughed up a bitter stream of water. She was still choking when the hands rolled her onto her back. She was looking up at Luke, a black shadow against a high blue sky touched with white clouds. The

gentleness she was used to seeing in his expression was gone; he was no longer wolflike, but he looked furious. He hauled her into a sitting position, shaking her hard, over and over, until she gasped and struck out at him weakly. Luke! Stop it! Youre hurting me
His hands left her shoulders. He grabbed her chin in one hand instead, forcing her head up, his eyes searching her face. The water, he said. Did you cough up all the water? I think so, she whispered. Her voice came faintly from her swollen throat. Wheres your stele? he demanded, and when she hesitated, his voice sharpened. Clary. Your stele. Find it. She pulled away from his grasp and rummaged in her wet pockets, her heart sinking as her fingers scrabbled against nothing but damp material. She turned a miserable face up to Luke. I think I must have dropped it in the lake. She sniffled.

My my mother s stele
Jesus, Clary. Luke stood up, clasping his hands distractedly behind his head. He was soaking wet too, water running off his jeans and heavy flannel coat in thick rivulets. The spectacles he usually wore halfway down his nose were gone. He looked down at her somberly. You re all right, he said. It wasnt really a question. I mean, right now. You feel all right?
She nodded. Luke, whats wrong?
Why do we need my stele?

Luke said nothing. He was looking around as if hoping to glean some assistance from their surroundings.
Clary followed his gaze. They were on the wide dirt bank of a good-size lake. The water was pale blue, sparked here and there with reflected sunlight. She wondered if it was the source of the gold light shed seen through the half-open
Portal. There was nothing sinister about the lake now that she was next to it instead of in it. It was surrounded by green hills dotted

with trees just beginning to turn russet and gold. Beyond the hills rose high mountains, their peaks capped in snow.
Clary shivered. Luke, when we were in the waterdid you go part wolf? I thought I saw
My wolf self can swim better than my human self, Luke said shortly.
And its stronger. I had to drag you through the water, and you werent offering much help.
I know, she said. Im sorry. You werentyou werent supposed to

come with me.
If I hadnt, youd be dead now, he pointed out. Magnus told you,
Clary. You cant use a Portal to get into the Glass City unless you have someone waiting for you on the other side.
He said it was against the Law. He didnt say if I tried to get there Id bounce off.
He told you there are wards up around the city that prevent
Portaling into it. Its not his fault you decided to play around with magic

you just barely understand. Just because you have power doesnt mean you know how to use it. He scowled. Im sorry, Clary said in a small voice. It s just where are we now?
Lake Lyn, said Luke. I think the
Portal took us as close to the city as it could and then dumped us. Were on the outskirts of Alicante. He looked around, shaking his head half in amazement and half in weariness. You did it, Clary. Were in Idris.

Idris? Clary said, and stood staring stupidly out across the lake. It twinkled back at her, blue and undisturbed. Butyou said we were on the outskirts of Alicante. I dont see the city anywhere.
Were miles away. Luke pointed.
You see those hills in the distance?
We have to cross over those; the city is on the other side. If we had a car, we could get there in an hour, but were going to have to walk, which will probably take all afternoon. He squinted up at the sky.

We d better get going.
Clary looked down at herself in dismay. The prospect of a daylong hike in soaking-wet clothes did not appeal. Isn t there anything else ?
Anything else we can do? Luke said, and there was a sudden sharp edge of anger to his voice. Do you have any suggestions, Clary, since youre the one who brought us here?
He pointed away from the lake.
That way lie mountains. Passable on foot only in high summer. Wed freeze to death on the peaks. He

turned, stabbed his finger in another direction. That way lie miles of woods. They run all the way to the border. Theyre uninhabited, at least by human beings. Past Alicante theres farmland and country houses.
Maybe we could get out of Idris, but wed still have to pass through the city. A city, I may add, where
Downworlders like myself are hardly welcome.
Clary looked at him with her mouth open. Luke, I didn t know
Of course you didnt know. You dont

know anything about Idris. You dont even care about Idris. You were just upset about being left behind, like a child, and you had a tantrum.
And now were here. Lost and freezing and He broke off, his face tight. Come on. Let s start walking.
Clary followed Luke along the edge of Lake Lyn in a miserable silence.
As they walked, the sun dried her hair and skin, but the velvet coat held water like a sponge. It hung on her like a lead curtain as she tripped hastily over rocks and mud,

trying to keep up with Lukes longlegged stride. She made a few further attempts at conversation, but
Luke remained stubbornly silent.
Shed never done anything so bad before that an apology hadnt softened Lukes anger. This time, it seemed, was different.
The cliffs rose higher around the lake as they progressed, pocked with spots of darkness, like splashes of black paint. As Clary looked more closely, she realized they were caves in the rock. Some

looked like they went very deep, twisting away into darkness. She imagined bats and creepy-crawling things hiding in the blackness, and shivered. At last a narrow path cutting through the cliffs led them to a wide road lined with crushed stones. The lake curved away behind them, indigo in the late afternoon sunlight. The road cut through a flat grassy plain that rose to rolling hills in the distance.
Clarys heart sank; the city was nowhere in sight.

Luke was staring toward the hills with a look of intense dismay on his face. Were farther than I thought. Its been such a long time .
Maybe if we found a bigger road,
Clary
suggested, we could hitchhike, or get a ride to the city, or
Clary. There are no cars in Idris.
Seeing her shocked expression,
Luke laughed without much amusement. The wards foul up the machinery. Most technology doesnt work heremobile phones, computers, the like. Alicante itself

is litand poweredmostly by witchlight. Oh, Clary said in a small voice.
Wellabout how far from the city are we? Far enough. Without looking at her,
Luke raked both his hands back through his short hair. Theres something I d better tell you.
Clary tensed. All shed wanted before was for Luke to talk to her; now she didnt want it anymore. Its all right
Did you notice, Luke said, that there

werent any boats on Lake Lynno docksnothing that might suggest the lake is used in any way by the people of Idris?
I just thought that was because it was so remote.
Its not that remote. A few hours from Alicante on foot. The fact is, the lake Luke broke off and sighed.
Did you ever notice the pattern on the library floor at the Institute in
New York?
Clary blinked. I did, but I couldnt figure out what it was.

It was an angel rising out of a lake, holding a cup and a sword. Its a repeating motif in Nephilim decorations. The legend is that the angel Raziel rose out of Lake Lyn when he first appeared to Jonathan
Shadowhunter, the first of the
Nephilim, and gave him the Mortal
Instruments. Ever since then the lake has been
Sacred? Clary suggested.
Cursed, Luke said. The water of the lake is in some way poisonous to
Shadowhunters. It wont hurt

Downworldersthe Fair Folk call it the Mirror of Dreams, and they drink its water because they claim it gives them true visions. But for a
Shadowhunter to drink the water is very dangerous.
It
causes hallucinations, feverit can drive a person to madness.
Clary felt cold all over. Thats why you tried to make me spit the water out. Luke nodded. And why I wanted you to find your stele. With a healing rune, we could stave off the

waters effects. Without it, we need to get you to Alicante as quickly as possible. There are medicines, herbs, that will help, and I know someone who will almost certainly have them.
The Lightwoods?
Not the Lightwoods. Lukes voice was firm. Someone else. Someone I know. Who?
He shook his head. Lets just pray this person hasnt moved away in the last fifteen years.

But I thought you said it was against the Law for Downworlders to come into Alicante without permission.
His answering smile was a reminder of the Luke who had caught her when shed fallen off the jungle gym as a child, the Luke who had always protected her. Some
Laws were meant to be broken.

The Penhallows house reminded

Simon of the Instituteit had that same sense of belonging somehow to another era. The halls and stairways were narrow, made of stone and dark wood, and the windows were tall and thin, giving out onto views of the city. There was a distinctly Asian feel to the decorations: a shoji screen stood on the first-floor landing, and there were lacquer-flowered tall Chinese vases on the windowsills. There were also a number of silkscreen prints on the walls, showing what

must have been scenes from
Shadowhunter mythology, but with an Eastern feel to themwarlords wielding glowing seraph blades were prominently featured, alongside colorful dragonlike creatures and slithering, pop-eyed demons. Mrs. PenhallowJiaused to run the
Beijing Institute. She splits her time between here and the Forbidden
City, Isabelle said as Simon paused to examine a print. And the
Penhallows are an old family.

Wealthy.
I can tell, Simon muttered, looking up at the chandeliers, dripping cutglass crystals like teardrops.
Jace, on the step behind them, grunted. Move it along. Were not taking a historical tour here.
Simon weighed a rude retort and decided it wasnt worth bothering.
He took the rest of the stairs at a rapid pace; they opened out at the bottom into a large room. It was an odd mixture of the old and the new:
A glass picture window looked out

onto the canal, and there was music playing from a stereo that Simon couldnt see. But there was no television, no stack of DVDs or
CDs, the sort of detritus Simon associated with modern living rooms. Instead there were a number of overstuffed couches grouped around a large fireplace, in which flames were crackling.
Alec stood by the fireplace, in dark
Shadowhunter gear, drawing on a pair of gloves. He looked up as
Simon entered the room and

scowled his habitual scowl, but said nothing.
Seated on the couches were two teenagers Simon had never seen before, a boy and a girl. The girl looked as if she were partly Asian, with delicate, almond-shaped eyes, glossy dark hair pulled back from her face, and a mischievous expression. Her delicate chin narrowed into a point like a cats.
She wasnt exactly pretty, but she was very striking.
The black-haired boy beside her

was more than striking. He was probably Jaces height, but seemed taller, even sitting down; he was slender and muscular, with a pale, elegant, restless face, all cheekbones and dark eyes. There was something strangely familiar about him, as if Simon had met him before. The girl spoke first. Is that the vampire? She looked Simon up and down as if she were taking his measurements. Ive never really been this close to a vampire

beforenot one I wasnt planning to kill, at least. She cocked her head to the side. Hes cute, for a
Downworlder.
Youll have to forgive her; she has the face of an angel and the manners of a Moloch demon, said the boy with a smile, getting to his feet. He held his hand out to Simon. Im
Sebastian. Sebastian Verlac. And this is my cousin, Aline Penhallow.
Aline
I dont shake hands with
Downworlders,
Aline said, shrinking back against the couch cushions. They dont have souls, you know. Vampires.
Sebastians smile disappeared.
Aline
Its true. Thats why they cant see themselves in mirrors, or go in the sun. Very deliberately, Simon stepped backward, into the patch of sunlight in front of the window. He felt the sun hot on his back, his hair. His shadow was cast, long and dark, across the floor, almost reaching

Jace s feet.
Aline took a sharp breath but said nothing. It was Sebastian who spoke, looking at Simon with curious black eyes. So its true. The
Lightwoods said, but I didn t think
That we were telling the truth? Jace said, speaking for the first time since theyd come downstairs. We wouldnt lie about something like this. Simon s unique.
I kissed him once, Isabelle said, to no one in particular.
Alines eyebrows shot up. They

really do let you do whatever you want in New York, dont they? she said, sounding half-horrified and half-envious. The last time I saw you, Izzy, you wouldnt even have considered The last time we all saw each other,
Izzy was eight, Alec said. Things change. Now, Mom had to leave here in a hurry, so someone has to take her notes and records up to the
Gard for her. Im the only one whos eighteen, so Im the only one who can go while the Clave s in session.

We know, Isabelle said, flopping down onto a couch. Youve already told us that, like, five times.
Alec, who was looking important, ignored this. Jace, you brought the vampire here, so youre in charge of him. Don t let him go outside.
The vampire, Simon thought. It wasnt like Alec didnt know his name. Hed saved Alecs life once.
Now he was the vampire. Even for
Alec, who was prone to the occasional fit of inexplicable sullenness, this was obnoxious.

Maybe it had something to do with being in Idris. Maybe Alec felt a greater need to assert his
Shadowhunter-ness here.
That s what you brought me down here to tell me? Dont let the vampire go outside? I wouldnt have done that anyway. Jace slid onto the couch beside Aline, who looked pleased. Youd better hurry up to the
Gard and back. God knows what depravity we might get up to here without your guidance.
Alec gazed at Jace with calm

superiority. Try to hold it together.
Ill be back in half an hour. He vanished through an archway that led to a long corridor; somewhere in the distance, a door clicked shut.
You shouldnt bait him, Isabelle said, shooting Jace a severe look.
They did leave him in charge.
Aline, Simon couldnt help but notice, was sitting very close to
Jace, their shoulders touching, even though there was plenty of room around them on the couch. Did you ever think that in a past life Alec

was an old woman with ninety cats who was always yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn? Because I do, he said, and
Aline giggled. Just because hes the only one who can go to the Gard
Whats the Gard? Simon asked, tired of having no idea what anyone was talking about.
Jace looked at him. His expression was cool, unfriendly; his hand was atop Alines where it rested on her thigh. Sit down, he said, jerking his head toward an armchair. Or did

you plan to hover in the corner like a bat?
Great. Bat jokes. Simon settled himself uncomfortably in the chair.
The Gard is the official meeting place of the Clave, Sebastian said, apparently taking pity on Simon. Its where the Law is made, and where the Consul and Inquisitor reside.
Only adult Shadowhunters are allowed onto its grounds when the
Clave is in session.
In
session?
Simon
asked, remembering what Jace had said

earlier, upstairs. You meannot because of me?
Sebastian laughed. No. Because of
Valentine
and the Mortal
Instruments. Thats why everyones here. To discuss what Valentines going to do next.
Jace said nothing, but at the sound of Valentines name, his face tightened. Well, hell go after the Mirror,
Simon said. The third of the Mortal
Instruments, right? Is it here in
Idris? Is that why everyone s here?

There was a short silence before
Isabelle answered. The thing about the Mirror is that no one knows where it is. In fact, no one knows what it is.
Its a mirror, Simon said. You knowreflective, glass. Im just assuming. What
Isabelle
means, said Sebastian kindly, is that nobody knows anything about the Mirror.
There are multiple mentions of it in
Shadowhunter histories, but no specifics about where it is, what it

looks like, or, most important, what it does.
We assume Valentine wants it, said
Isabelle, but that doesnt help much, since no ones got a clue where it is.
The Silent Brothers might have had an idea, but Valentine killed them all. There wont be more for at least a little while.
All of them? Simon demanded in surprise. I thought he only killed the ones in New York.
The Bone City isnt really in New
York,
Isabelle said. Its

likeremember the entrance to the
Seelie Court, in Central Park? Just because the entrance was there doesnt mean the Court itself is under the park. Its the same with the
Bone City. There are various entrances, but the City itself
Isabelle broke off as Aline shushed her with a quick gesture. Simon looked from her face to Jaces to
Sebastians. They all had the same guarded expression, as if theyd just realized what theyd been doing: telling Nephilim secrets to a

Downworlder. A vampire. Not the enemy, precisely, but certainly someone who couldn t be trusted.
Aline was the first one to break the silence. Fixing her pretty, dark gaze on Simon, she said, Sowhats it like, being a vampire?
Aline! Isabelle looked appalled.
You cant just go around asking people what its like to be a vampire. I dont see why, Aline said. He hasnt been a vampire that long, has he?
So he must remember what it was

like being a person. She turned back to Simon. Does blood still taste like blood to you? Or does it taste like something else now, like orange juice or something? Because I would think the taste of blood would It tastes like chicken, Simon said, just to shut her up.
Really? Aline looked astonished.
Hes making fun of you, Aline, said
Sebastian, as well he should. I apologize for my cousin again,
Simon. Those of us who were

brought up outside Idris tend to have a little more familiarity with
Downworlders.
But werent you brought up in Idris?
Isabelle asked. I thought your parents Isabelle, Jace interrupted, but it was already too late; Sebastians expression darkened.
My parents are dead, he said. A demon nest near Calaisits all right, it was a long time ago. He waved away Isabelles protestation of sympathy. My auntAlines fathers

sisterbrought me up at the Institute in Paris.
So you speak French? Isabelle sighed. I wish I spoke another language. But Hodge never thought we needed to learn anything but ancient Greek and Latin, and nobody speaks those.
I also speak Russian and Italian.
And some Romanian, Sebastian said with a modest smile. I could teach you some phrases
Romanian? Thats impressive, said
Jace. Not many people speak it.

Do you? Sebastian asked with interest. Not really, Jace said with a smile so disarming Simon knew he was lying. My Romanian is pretty much limited to useful phrases like, Are these snakes poisonous? and But you look much too young to be a police officer.
Sebastian didnt smile. There was something about his expression,
Simon
thought.
It
was mildeverything about him was calmbut Simon had the sense that

the mildness hid something beneath it that belied his outward tranquility. I do like traveling, he said, his eyes on Jace. But its good to be back, isn t it?
Jace paused in the act of playing with Alines fingers. What do you mean? Just that theres nowhere else quite like Idris, however much we
Nephilim might make homes for ourselves elsewhere. Dont you agree? Why are you asking me? Jaces look

was icy.
Sebastian shrugged. Well, you lived here as a child, didnt you? And its been years since youve been back.
Or did I get that wrong?
You didnt get it wrong, Isabelle said impatiently. Jace likes to pretend that everyone isnt talking about him, even when he knows they are.
They certainly are. Though Jace was glaring at him, Sebastian seemed unruffled. Simon felt a sort of half-reluctant liking for the dark-

haired Shadowhunter boy. It was rare to find someone who didnt react to Jaces taunts. These days in
Idris its all anyone talks about. You, the Mortal Instruments, your father, your sister
Clarissa was supposed to come with you, wasnt she? Aline said. I was looking forward to meeting her.
What happened?
Though Jaces expression didnt change, he drew his hand back from
Alines, curling it into a fist. She didnt want to leave New York. Her

mothers ill in the hospital. He never says our mother, Simon thought. It s always her mother.
Its weird, Isabelle said. I really thought she wanted to come.
She did, said Simon. In fact
Jace was on his feet, so fast that
Simon didnt even see him move.
Come to think of it, I have something I need to discuss with
Simon. In private. He jerked his head toward the double doors at the far end of the room, his eyes glittering a challenge. Come on,

vampire, he said, in a tone that left
Simon with the distinct feeling that a refusal would probably end in some kind of violence. Let s talk.

3

AMATIS

By late afternoon Luke and Clary had left the lake far behind and

were pacing over seemingly endless broad, flat swatches of high grass.
Here and there a gentle rise reared up into a high hill topped with black rocks. Clary was exhausted from staggering up and down the hills, one after another, her boots slipping on the damp grass as if it were greased marble. By the time they left the fields behind for a narrow dirt road, her hands were bleeding and grass-stained.
Luke stalked ahead of her with determined strides. Occasionally he

would point out items of interest in a somber voice, like the worlds most depressed tour guide. We just crossed Brocelind Plain, he said as they climbed a rise and saw a tangled expanse of dark trees stretching away toward the west, where the sun hung low in the sky.
This is the forest. The woods used to cover most of the lowland of the country. Much of it was cut down to make way for the cityand to clear out the wolf packs and vampire nests that tended to crop up there.

Brocelind Forest has always been a hiding place for Downworlders.
They trudged along in silence as the road curved alongside the forest for several miles before taking an abrupt turn. The trees seemed to lift away as a ridge rose above them, and Clary blinked when they turned the corner of a high hillunless her eyes were deceiving her, there were houses down there. Small, white rows of houses, orderly as a
Munchkin village. Were here! she exclaimed, and darted forward,

only stopping when she realized that
Luke was no longer beside her.
She turned and saw him standing in the middle of the dusty road, shaking his head. No, he said, moving to catch up with her. Thats not the city.
Then is it a town? You said there weren t any towns near here
Its a graveyard. Its Alicantes City of
Bones. Did you think the City of
Bones was the only resting place we had? He sounded sad. This is the necropolis, the place we bury

those who die in Idris. Youll see.
We have to walk through it to get to
Alicante.
Clary hadnt been to a graveyard since the night Simon had died, and the memory gave her a bone-deep shiver as she passed along the narrow lanes that threaded among the mausoleums like white ribbon.
Someone took care of this place:
The marble gleamed as if freshly scrubbed, and the grass was evenly cut. There were bunches of white flowers laid here and there on the

graves; she thought at first they were lilies, but they had a spicy, unfamiliar scent that made her wonder if they were native to Idris.
Each tomb looked like a little house; some even had metal or wire gates, and the names of Shadowhunter families were carved over the doors. CARTWRIGHT.
MERRYWEATHER.
HIGHTOWER.
BLACKWELL.
MIDWINTER. She stopped at one:
HERONDALE.
She turned to look at Luke. That

was the Inquisitor s name.

This is her family tomb. Look. He pointed. Beside the door were white letters cut into the gray marble. They were names.
MARCUS
HERONDALE.
STEPHEN HERONDALE. They had both died in the same year.
Much as Clary had hated the
Inquisitor, she felt something twist inside her, a pity she couldnt help.
To lose your husband and your son, so close togetherThree words in
Latin ran under Stephens name:
AVE ATQUE VALE.

What does that mean? she asked, turning to Luke.
It means Hail and farewell. Its from a poem by Catullus. At some point it became what the Nephilim say during funerals, or when someone dies in battle. Now come onits better not to dwell on this stuff,
Clary. Luke took her shoulder and moved her gently away from the tomb. Maybe he was right, Clary thought.
Maybe it was better not to think too much about death and dying right

now. She kept her eyes averted as they made their way out of the necropolis. They were almost through the iron gates at the far end when she spotted a smaller mausoleum, growing like a white toadstool in the shadow of a leafy oak tree. The name above the door leaped out at her as if it had been written in lights.
FAIRCHILD.
Clary Luke reached for her, but she was already gone. With a sigh he followed her into the trees shadow,

where she stood transfixed, reading the names of the grandparents and great-grandparents she had never even known she had. ALOYSIUS
FAIRCHILD.
ADELE
FAIRCHILD, B. NIGHTSHADE.
GRANVILLE FAIRCHILD. And below all those names: JOCELYN
MORGENSTERN, B. FAIRCHILD.
A wave of cold went over Clary.
Seeing her mothers name there was like revisiting the nightmares she had sometimes where she was at her mothers funeral and no one

would tell her what had happened or how her mother had died.
But shes not dead, she said, looking up at Luke. She s not
The Clave didnt know that, he told her gently.
Clary gasped. She could no longer hear Lukes voice or see him standing in front of her. Before her rose a jagged hillside, gravestones protruding from the dirt like snapped-off bones. A black headstone loomed up in front of her, letters cut unevenly into its face:

CLARISSA MORGENSTERN, B.
1991 D. 2007. Under the words was a crudely drawn childs sketch of a skull with gaping eye sockets.
Clary staggered backward with a scream. Luke caught her by the shoulders.
Clary, what is it? What s wrong?
She pointed. There look
But it was gone. The grass stretched out ahead of her, green and even, the white mausoleums neat and plain in their orderly rows.
She twisted to look up at him. I saw

my own gravestone, she said. It said
I was going to dienowthis year. She shuddered. Luke looked grim. Its the lake water, he said. Youre starting to hallucinate. Come onwe havent got much time left.

Jace marched Simon upstairs and down a short hallway lined with doors; he paused only to straight-

arm one of them open, a scowl on his face. In here, he said, halfshoving
Simon
through the doorway. Simon saw what looked like a library inside: rows of bookshelves, long couches, and armchairs. We should have some privacy He broke off as a figure rose nervously from one of the armchairs. It was a little boy with brown hair and glasses. He had a small, serious face, and there was a book clutched in one of his hands.

Simon was familiar enough with
Clarys reading habits to recognize it as a manga volume even at a distance. Jace frowned. Sorry, Max. We need the room. Grown-up talk.
But Izzy and Alec already kicked me out of the living room so they could have grown-up talk, Max complained. Where am I supposed to go?
Jace shrugged. Your room? He jerked a thumb toward the door.
Time to do your duty for your

country, kiddo. Scram.
Looking aggrieved, Max stalked past them both, his book clutched to his chest. Simon felt a twinge of sympathyit sucked to be old enough to want to know what was going on, but so young you were always dismissed. The boy shot him a look as he went pasta scared, suspicious glance. Thats the vampire, his eyes said. Come on. Jace hustled Simon into the room, shutting and locking the door behind them. With the door

closed the room was so dimly lit even Simon found it dark. It smelled like dust. Jace walked across the floor and threw open the curtains at the far end of the room, revealing a tall, single-paned picture window that gave out onto a view of the canal just outside. Water splashed against the side of the house just a few feet below them, under stone railings carved with a weatherbeaten design of runes and stars.
Jace turned to Simon with a scowl.
What the hell is your problem,

vampire?
My problem? Youre the one who practically dragged me out of there by my hair.
Because you were about to tell them that Clary never canceled her plans to come to Idris. You know what would happen then? Theyd contact her and arrange for her to come.
And I already told you why that cant happen. Simon shook his head. I dont get you, he said. Sometimes you act like all you care about is Clary, and then

you act like
Jace stared at him. The air was full of dancing dust motes; they made a shimmering curtain between the two boys. Act like what?
You were flirting with Aline, Simon said. It didnt seem like all you cared about was Clary then.
That is so not your business, Jace said. And besides, Clary is my sister. You do know that.
I was there in the faerie court too,
Simon replied. I remember what the
Seelie Queen said. The kiss the girl

desires most will free her.
I bet you remember that. Burned into your brain, is it, vampire?
Simon made a noise in the back of his throat that he hadnt even realized he was capable of making.
Oh, no you dont. Im not having this argument. Im not fighting over Clary with you. It s ridiculous.
Then why did you bring all this up?
Because, Simon said. If you want me to lienot to Clary, but to all your
Shadowhunter friendsif you want me to pretend that it was Clarys

own decision not to come here, and if you want me to pretend that I dont know about her powers, or what she can really do, then you have to do something for me.
Fine, Jace said. What is it you want? Simon was silent for a moment, looking past Jace at the line of stone houses fronting the sparkling canal.
Past their crenellated roofs he could see the gleaming tops of the demon towers. I want you to do whatever you need to do to convince Clary

that you dont have feelings for her.
And dontdont tell me youre her brother; I already know that. Stop stringing her along when you know that whatever you two have has no future. And Im not saying this because I want her for myself. Im saying it because Im her friend and I don t want her hurt.
Jace looked down at his hands for a long moment without answering.
They were thin hands, the fingers and knuckles scuffed with old calluses. The backs of them were

laced with the thin white lines of old Marks. They were a soldiers hands, not a teenage boys. Ive already done that, he said. I told her
I was only interested in being her brother. Oh. Simon had expected Jace to fight him on this, to argue, not to just give up. A Jace who just gave up was newand left Simon feeling almost ashamed for having asked.
Clary never mentioned it to me, he wanted to say, but then why would she have? Come to think of it, she

had seemed unusually quiet and withdrawn lately whenever Jaces name had come up. Well, that takes care of that, I guess. Theres one last thing. Oh? Jace spoke without much apparent interest. And what s that?
What was it Valentine said when
Clary drew that rune on the ship? It sounded like a foreign language.
Meme something ?
Mene mene tekel upharsin, Jace said with a faint smile. You dont recognize it? Its from the Bible,

vampire. The old one. Thats your book, isn t it?
Just because Im Jewish doesnt mean
I ve memorized the Old Testament.
Its the Writing on the Wall. God hath numbered thy kingdom, and brought it to an end; thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting. Its a portent of doomit means the end of an empire.
But what does that have to do with
Valentine?
Not just Valentine, said Jace. All of us. The Clave and the Lawwhat

Clary can do overturns everything they know to be true. No human being can create new runes, or draw the sort of runes Clary can. Only angels have that power. And since
Clary can do thatwell, it seems like a portent. Things are changing. The
Laws are changing. The old ways may never be the right ways again.
Just as the rebellion of the angels ended the world as it wasit split heaven in half and created hellthis could mean the end of the Nephilim as they currently exist. This is our

war in heaven, vampire, and only one side can win it. And my father means it to be his.

Though the air was still cold, Clary was boiling hot in her wet clothes.
Sweat ran down her face in rivulets, dampening the collar of her coat as
Luke, his hand on her arm, hurried her along the road under a rapidly darkening sky. They were within

sight of Alicante now. The city was in a shallow valley, bisected by a silvery river that flowed into one end of the city, seemed to vanish, and flowed again out the other. A tumble of honey-colored buildings with red slate roofs and a tangle of steeply winding dark streets backed up against the side of a steep hill.
On the crown of the hill rose a dark stone edifice, pillared and soaring, with a glittering tower at each cardinal direction point: four in all.
Scattered among the other buildings

were the same tall, thin, glasslike towers, each one shimmering like quartz. They were like glass needles piercing the sky. The fading sunlight struck dull rainbows from their surfaces like a match striking sparks. It was a beautiful sight, and very strange.
You have never seen a city till you have seen Alicante of the glass towers. What was that? Luke said, overhearing. What did you say?
Clary hadnt realized shed spoken

out loud. Embarrassed, she repeated her words, and Luke looked at her in surprise. Where did you hear that? Hodge, Clary said. It was something
Hodge said to me.
Luke peered at her more closely.
Youre flushed, he said. How are you feeling?
Clarys neck was aching, her whole body on fire, her mouth dry. Im fine, she said. Let s just get there, okay?
Okay. Luke pointed; at the edge of the city, where the buildings ended,

Clary could see an archway, two sides curving to a pointed top. A
Shadowhunter in black gear stood watch inside the shadow of the archway. Thats the North Gateits where Downworlders can legally enter the city, provided theyve got the paperwork. Guards are posted there night and day. Now, if we were on official business, or had permission to be here, wed go in through it.
But there arent any walls around the city, Clary pointed out. It doesnt

seem like much of a gate.
The wards are invisible, but theyre there. The demon towers control them. They have for a thousand years. Youll feel it when you pass through them. He glanced one more time at her flushed face, concern crinkling the corners of his eyes.
Are you ready?
She nodded. They moved away from the gate, along the east side of the city, where buildings were more thickly clustered. With a gesture to be quiet, Luke drew her toward a

narrow opening between two houses. Clary shut her eyes as they approached, almost as if she expected to be smacked in the face with an invisible wall as soon as they stepped onto the streets of
Alicante. It wasnt like that. She felt a sudden pressure, as if she were in an airplane that was dropping. Her ears popped and then the feeling was gone, and she was standing in the alley between the buildings.
Just like an alley in New Yorklike every alley in the world,

apparently it smelled like cat pee.
Clary peered around the corner of one of the buildings. A larger street stretched away up the hill, lined with small shops and houses.
Theres no one around, she observed, with some surprise.
In the fading light Luke looked gray.
There must be a meeting going on up at the Gard. Its the only thing that could get everyone off the streets at once. But isnt that good? Theres no one around to see us.

Its good and bad. The streets are mostly deserted, which is good. But anyone who does happen by will be much more likely to notice and remark on us.
I thought you said everyone was in the Gard.
Luke smiled faintly. Dont be so literal, Clary. I meant most of the city. Children, teenagers, anyone exempted from the meeting, they won t be there.
Teenagers. Clary thought of Jace, and despite herself, her pulse

leaped forward like a horse charging out of the starting gate at a race. Luke frowned, almost as if he could read her thoughts. As of now, Im breaking the Law by being in
Alicante without declaring myself to the Clave at the gate. If anyone recognizes me, we could be in real trouble. He glanced up at the narrow strip of russet sky visible between the rooftops. We have to get off the streets.
I thought we were going to your

friend s house.
We are. And shes not a friend, precisely. Then who ?
Just follow me. Luke ducked into a passage between two houses, so narrow that Clary could reach out and touch the walls of both houses with her fingers as they made their way down it and onto a cobblestoned winding street lined w i t h shops.
The
buildings themselves looked like a cross between a Gothic dreamscape and a

childrens fairy tale. The stone facings were carved with all manner of creatures out of myth and legendthe heads of monsters were a prominent feature, interspersed with winged horses, something that looked like a house on chicken legs, mermaids, and, of course, angels.
Gargoyles jutted from every corner, their snarling faces contorted. And everywhere there were runes: splashed across doors, hidden in the design of an abstract carving, dangling from thin metal chains like

wind chimes that twisted in the breeze. Runes for protection, for good luck, even for good business; staring at them all, Clary began to feel a little dizzy.
They walked in silence, keeping to the shadows. The cobblestone street was deserted, shop doors shut and barred. Clary cast furtive glances into the windows as they passed. It was strange to see a display of expensive decorated chocolates in one window and in the next an equally lavish display of deadly-

looking weaponscutlasses, maces, nail-studded cudgels, and an array of seraph blades in different sizes.
No guns, she said. Her own voice sounded very far away.
Luke blinked at her. What?
Shadowhunters, she said. They never seem to use guns.
Runes keep gunpowder from igniting, he said. No one knows why. Still, Nephilim have been known to use the occasional rifle on lycanthropes. It doesnt take a rune to kill usjust silver bullets. His

voice was grim. Suddently his head went up. In the dim light it was easy to imagine his ears pricking forward like a wolfs. V oices, he said. They must be finished at the
Gard.
He took her arm and pulled her sideways off the main street. They emerged into a small square with a well at its center. A masonry bridge arched over a narrow canal just ahead of them. In the fading light the water in the canal looked almost black. Clary could hear the voices

herself now, coming from the streets nearby. They were raised, angrysounding.
Clarys
dizziness increasedshe felt as if the ground were tilting under her, threatening to send her sprawling. She leaned back against the wall of the alley, gasping for air.
Clary, Luke said. Clary, are you all right? His voice sounded thick, strange.
She looked at him, and the breath died in her throat. His ears had grown long and pointed, his teeth

razor-sharp, his eyes a fierce yellow Luke, she whispered. Whats happening to you?
Clary. He reached for her, his hands oddly elongated, the nails sharp and rust-colored. Is something wrong?
She screamed, twisting away from him. She wasnt sure why she felt so terrifiedshed seen Luke Change before, and hed never harmed her.
But the terror was a live thing inside her, uncontrollable. Luke caught at her shoulders and she

cringed away from him, away from his yellow, animal eyes, even as he hushed her, begging her to be quiet in his ordinary, human voice. Clary, please Let me go! Let me go!
But he didnt. Its the wateryoure hallucinatingClary, try to keep it together. He drew her toward the bridge, half-dragging her. She could feel tears running down her face, cooling her burning cheeks. Its not real. Try to hold on, please, he said, helping her onto the bridge. She

could smell the water below it, green and stale. Things moved below the surface of it. As she watched, a black tentacle emerged from the water, its spongy tip lined with needle teeth. She cringed away from the water, unable to scream, a low moaning coming from her throat. Luke caught her as her knees buckled, swinging her up into his arms. He hadnt carried her since she was five or six years old. Clary, he said, but the rest of his words

melded and blurred into a nonsensical roar as they stepped down off the bridge. They raced past a series of tall, thin houses that almost reminded Clary of Brooklyn row housesor maybe she was just hallucinating her own neighborhood? The air around them seemed to warp as they went on, the lights of the houses blazing up around them like torches, the canal shimmering with an evil phosphorescent glow. Clarys bones felt as if they were dissolving

inside her body.
Here. Luke jerked to a halt in front of a tall canal house. He kicked hard at the door, shouting; it was painted a bright, almost garish, red, a single rune splashed across it in gold. The rune melted and ran as
Clary stared at it, taking the shape of a hideous grinning skull. Its not real, she told herself fiercely, stifling her scream with her fist, biting down until she tasted blood in her mouth.
The pain cleared her head

momentarily. The door flew open, revealing a woman in a dark dress, her face creased with a mixture of anger and surprise. Her hair was long, a tangled gray-brown cloud escaping from two braids; her blue eyes were familiar. A witchlight rune-stone gleamed in her hand.
Who is it? she demanded. What do you want?
Amatis. Luke moved into the pool of witchlight, Clary in his arms. Its me. The woman blanched and tottered,

putting out a hand to brace herself against the doorway. Lucian? Luke tried to take a step forward, but the womanAmatisblocked his path. She was shaking her head so hard that her braids whipped back and forth.
How can you come here, Lucian?
How dare you come here?
I had very little choice. Luke tightened his hold on Clary. She bit back a cry. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire, every nerve ending burning with pain.
You have to go, then, Amatis said.

If you leave immediately
Im not here for me. Im here for the girl. Shes dying. As the woman stared at him, he said, Amatis, please. She s Jocelyn s daughter.
There was a long silence, during which Amatis stood like a statue, unmoving, in the doorway. She seemed frozen, whether from surprise or horror Clary couldnt guess. Clary clenched her fisther palm was sticky with blood where the nails dug inbut even the pain wasnt helping now; the world was

coming apart in soft colors, like a jigsaw puzzle drifting on the surface of water. She barely heard Amatiss voice as the older woman stepped back from the doorway and said,
Very well, Lucian. You can bring her inside.

By the time Simon and Jace came back into the living room, Aline had laid food out on the low table

between the couches. There was bread and cheese, slices of cake, apples, and even a bottle of wine, which Max was not allowed to touch. He sat in the corner with a plate of cake, his book open on his lap. Simon sympathized with him.
He felt just as alone in the laughing, chatting group as Max probably did.
He watched Aline touch Jaces wrist with her fingers as she reached for a piece of apple, and felt himself tense. But this is what you want him to do, he told himself, and yet

somehow he couldnt get rid of the sense that Clary was being disregarded. Jace met his eyes over Alines head and smiled. Somehow, even though he wasnt a vampire, he was able to manage a smile that seemed to be all pointed teeth. Simon looked away, glancing around the room. He noticed that the music hed heard earlier wasnt coming from a stereo at all but from a complicatedlooking mechanical contraption.
He thought about striking up a

conversation with Isabelle, but she was chatting with Sebastian, whose elegant face was bent attentively down to hers. Jace had laughed at
Simons crush on Isabelle once, but
Sebastian could doubtless handle her. Shadowhunters were brought up to handle anything, werent they?
Although the look on Jaces face when hed said that he planned to be only Clarys brother made Simon wonder. Were out of wine, Isabelle declared, setting the bottle down on

the table with a thump. Im going to get some more. With a wink at
Sebastian, she disappeared into the kitchen. If you dont mind my saying so, you seem a little quiet. It was Sebastian, leaning over the back of Simons chair with a disarming smile. For someone with such dark hair, Simon thought, Sebastians skin was very fair, as if he didnt go out in the sun much. Everything all right?
Simon shrugged. There aren t a lot of openings for me in the conversation.

It seems to be either about
Shadowhunter politics or people
I ve never heard of, or both.
The smile disappeared. We can be something of a closed circle, we
Nephilim. Its the way of those who are shut out from the rest of the world. Dont you think you shut yourselves out? You despise ordinary humans
Despise is a little strong, said
Sebastian. And do you really think the world of humans would want anything to do with us? All we are

is a living reminder that whenever they comfort themselves that there are no real vampires, no real demons or monsters under the bedtheyre lying. He turned his head to look at Jace, who, Simon realized, had been staring at them both in silence for several minutes.
Don t you agree?
Jace smiled. De ce crezi c? v? ascultam conversatia?
Sebastian met his glance with a look of pleasant interest. M-ai urmarit de când ai ajuns aici, he

replied. Nu-mi dau seama dac? nu m? placi ori dac? eşti atât de b? nuitor cu toata lumea. He got to his feet. I appreciate the Romanian practice, but if you dont mind, Im going to see whats taking Isabelle so long in the kitchen. He disappeared through the doorway, leaving Jace staring after him with a puzzled expression.
Whats wrong? Does he not speak
Romanian after all? Simon asked.
No, said Jace. A small frown line had appeared between his eyes. No,

he speaks it all right.
Before Simon could ask him what he meant by that, Alec entered the room. He was frowning, just as he had been when hed left. His gaze lingered momentarily on Simon, a look almost of confusion in his blue eyes. Jace glanced up. Back so soon?
Not for long. Alec reached down to pluck an apple off the table with a gloved hand. I just came back to gethim, he said, gesturing toward
Simon with the apple. Hes wanted

at the Gard.
Aline looked surprised. Really? she said, but Jace was already rising from the couch, disentangling his hand from hers.
Wanted for what? he said, with a dangerous calm. I hope you found that out before you promised to deliver him, at least.
Of course I asked, Alec snapped.
I m not stupid.
Oh, come on, said Isabelle. She had reappeared in the doorway with
Sebastian, who was holding a

bottle. Sometimes you are a bit stupid, you know. Just a bit, she repeated as Alec shot her a murderous glare.
Theyre sending Simon back to New
York, he said. Through the Portal.
But he just got here! Isabelle protested with a pout. That s no fun.
Its not supposed to be fun, Izzy.
Simon coming here was an accident, so the Clave thinks the best thing is for him to go home.
Great, Simon said. Maybe Ill even make it back before my mother

notices Im gone. Whats the time difference between here and
Manhattan?
You have a mother? Aline looked amazed. Simon chose to ignore this.
Seriously, he said, as Alec and Jace exchanged glances. Its fine. All I want is to get out of this place.
Youll go with him? Jace said to
Alec. And make sure everything s all right? They were looking at each other in a way that was familiar to Simon. It

was the way he and Clary sometimes looked at each other, exchanging coded glances when they didnt want their parents to know what they were planning.
What? he said, looking from one to the other. What s wrong?
They broke their stare; Alec glanced away, and Jace turned a bland and smiling look on Simon.
Nothing, he said. Everythings fine.
Congratulations, vampireyou get to go home.

4

DAYLIGHTER

Night had fallen over Alicante when Simon and Alec left the
Penhallows house and headed uphill toward the Gard. The streets of the city were narrow and twisting, wending upward like pale stone ribbons in the moonlight. The

air was cold, though Simon felt it only distantly.
Alec walked along in silence, striding ahead of Simon as if pretending that he were alone. In his previous life Simon would have had to hurry, panting, to keep up; now he discovered he could pace Alec just by speeding up his stride. Must suck, Simon said finally, as Alec stared morosely ahead. Getting stuck with escorting me, I mean.
Alec shrugged. Im eighteen. Im an adult, so I have to be the

responsible one. Im the only one who can go in and out of the Gard when the Claves in session, and besides, the Consul knows me.
What s a Consul?
Hes like a very high officer of the
Clave. He counts the votes of the
Council, interprets the Law for the
Clave, and advises them and the
Inquisitor. If you head up an
Institute and you run into a problem you dont know how to deal with, you call the Consul.
He advises the Inquisitor? I

thought isn t the Inquisitor dead?
Alec snorted. Thats like saying, Isnt the president dead? Yeah, the
Inquisitor died; now theres a new one. Inquisitor Aldertree.
Simon glanced down the hill toward the dark water of the canals far below. Theyd left the city behind them and were treading a narrow road between shadowy trees. Ill tell you, inquisitions havent worked out well for my people in the past. Alec looked blank. Never mind. Just a mundane history joke. You wouldnt

be interested.
Youre not a mundane, Alec pointed out. Thats why Aline and Sebastian were so excited to get a look at you.
Not that you can tell with Sebastian; he always acts like hes seen everything already.
Simon spoke without thinking. Are he and IsabelleIs there something going on there?
That startled a laugh out of Alec.
Isabelle and Sebastian? Hardly.
Sebastians a nice guyIsabelle only likes dating thoroughly inappropriate boys our parents will hate. Mundanes, Downworlders, petty crooks
Thanks, Simon said. Im glad to be classed with the criminal element.
I think she does it for attention, Alec said. Shes the only girl in the family too, so she has to keep proving how tough she is. Or at least, thats what she thinks.
Or maybe shes trying to take the attention off you, Simon said, almost absently. You know, since your parents dont know youre gay

and all.
Alec stopped in the middle of the road so suddenly that Simon almost crashed into him. No, he said, but apparently everyone else does.
Except Jace, Simon said. He doesnt know, does he?
Alec took a deep breath. He was pale, Simon thought, or it could have just been the moonlight, washing the color out of everything.
His eyes looked black in the darkness. I really dont see what business it is of yours. Unless youre

trying to threaten me.
Trying to threaten you? Simon was taken aback. I m not
Then why? said Alec, and there was a sudden, sharp vulnerability in his voice that took Simon aback. Why bring it up?
Because, Simon said. You seem to hate me most of the time. I dont take it that personally, even if I did save your life. You seem to kind of hate the whole world. And besides, we have practically nothing in common.
But I see you looking at Jace, and I

see myself looking at Clary, and I figuremaybe we have that one thing in common. And maybe it might make you dislike me a little less.
So youre not going to tell Jace?
Alec said. I meanyou told Clary how you felt, and
And it wasnt the best idea, said
Simon. Now I wonder all the time how you go back after something like that. Whether we can ever be friends again, or if what we had is broken into pieces. Not because of her, but because of me. Maybe if I

found someone else
Someone else, Alec repeated. He had started walking again, very quickly, staring at the road ahead of him. Simon hurried to keep up. You know what I mean. For instance, I think Magnus Bane really likes you.
And hes pretty cool. He throws great parties, anyway. Even if I did get turned into a rat that time.
Thanks for the advice. Alecs voice was dry. But I dont think he likes me all that much. He barely spoke

to me when he came to open the
Portal at the Institute.
Maybe you should call him, Simon suggested, trying not to think too hard about how weird it was to be giving a demon hunter advice about possibly dating a warlock.
Cant, Alec said. No phones in Idris.
It doesnt matter, anyway. His tone was abrupt. Were here. This is the
Gard.
A high wall rose in front of them, set with a pair of enormous gates.
The gates were carved with the

swirling, angular patterns of runes, and though Simon couldnt read them as Clary could, there was something dazzling in their complexity and the sense of power that emanated from them. The gates were guarded by stone angel statues on either side, their faces fierce and beautiful.
Each held a carved sword in its hand, and a writhing creaturea mixture of rat, bat, and lizard, with nasty pointed teethlay dying at its feet. Simon stood looking at them for a long moment. Demons, he

figuredbut they could just as easily be vampires.
Alec pushed the gate open and gestured for Simon to pass through.
Once inside, he blinked around in confusion. Since hed become a vampire, his night vision had sharpened to a laserlike clarity, but the dozens of torches lining the path to the doors of the Gard were made of witchlight, and the harsh white glow seemed to bleach the detail out of everything. He was vaguely aware of Alec guiding him forward

down a narrow stone pathway that shone with reflected illumination, and then there was someone standing on the path in front of him, blocking his way with an upraised arm. So this is the vampire? The voice that spoke was deep enough to nearly be a growl. Simon looked up, the light stinging his eyes to burningthey would have teared up if hed still been able to shed tears.
Witchlight, he thought, angel light, burns me. I suppose its no

surprise.
The man standing in front of them was very tall, with sallow skin stretched over prominent cheekbones. Under a close-cropped dome of black hair, his forehead was high, his nose beaked and
Roman. His expression as he looked down at Simon was the look of a subway commuter watching a large rat run back and forth on the rails, half-hoping a train will come along and squish it.
This is Simon, said Alec, a little

uncertainly. Simon, this is Consul
Malachi Dieudonné. Is the Portal ready, sir?
Yes, Malachi said. His voice was harsh and carried a faint accent.
Everything is in readiness. Come,
Downworlder. He beckoned to
Simon. The sooner this is all over, the better.
Simon moved to go to the chief officer, but Alec stopped him with a hand on his arm. Just a moment, he said, addressing the Consul. Hell be sent directly back to Manhattan?

And there will be someone waiting there on the other side for him?
Indeed, said Malachi. The warlock
Magnus Bane. Since he unwisely allowed the vampire into Idris in the first place, hes taken responsibility for his return.
If Magnus hadnt let Simon through the Portal, he would have died,
Alec said, a little sharply.
Perhaps, said Malachi. Thats what your parents say, and the Clave has chosen to believe them. Against my advice, in fact. Still, one does not

lightly bring Downworlders into the
City of Glass.
There was nothing light about it.
Anger surged in Simons chest. We were under attack
Malachi turned his gaze on Simon.
You will speak when you are spoken to, Downworlder, not before. Alecs hand tightened on Simons arm. There was a look on his facehalf hesitation, half suspicion, as if he were doubting his wisdom in bringing Simon here after all.

Now, Consul, really! The voice carrying through the courtyard was high, a little breathless, and Simon saw with some surprise that it belonged to a mana small, round man hurrying along the path toward them. He was wearing a loose gray cloak over his Shadowhunter gear, and his bald head glistened in the witchlight. Theres no need to alarm our guest.
Guest? Malachi looked outraged.
The small man came to a halt before
Alec and Simon and beamed at them

both. Were so gladpleased, reallythat you decided to cooperate with our request that you return to
New York. It does make everything so much easier. He twinkled at
Simon, who stared back at him in confusion. He didnt think hed ever met a Shadowhunter who seemed pleased to see himnot when he was a mundane, and definitely not now that he was a vampire. Oh, I almost forgot! The little man slapped himself on the forehead in remorse.
I should have introduced myself. Im

the Inquisitorthe new Inquisitor.
Inquisitor Aldertree is my name.
Aldertree held his hand out to
Simon, and in a welter of confusion
Simon took it. And you. Your name is Simon?
Yes, Simon said, drawing his hand back as soon as he could.
Aldertrees grip was unpleasantly moist and clammy. Theres no need to thank me for cooperating. All I want is to go home.
Im sure you do, Im sure you do!
Though Aldertrees tone was jovial,

something flashed across his face as he spokean expression Simon couldnt pin down. It was gone in a moment, as Aldertree smiled and gestured toward a narrow path that wound alongside the Gard. This way, Simon, if you please.
Simon moved forward, and Alec made as if to follow him. The
Inquisitor held up a hand. Thats all well be needing from you,
Alexander. Thank you for your help.
But Simon , Alec began.
Will be just fine, the Inquisitor

assured him. Malachi, please show
Alexander out. And give him a witchlight rune-stone to get him back home if he hasnt brought one.
The path can be tricky at night.
And with another beatific smile, he whisked Simon away, leaving Alec staring after them both.

The world flared up around Clary in an almost tangible blur as Luke

carried her over the threshold of the house and down a long hallway,
Amatis hurrying ahead of them with her witch- light. More than halfdelirious, she stared as the corridor unfolded before her, growing longer and longer like a corridor in a nightmare. The world turned on its side.
Suddenly she was lying on a cold surface, and hands were smoothing a blanket over her. Blue eyes gazed down at her. She seems so ill,
Lucian, Amatis said, in a voice that

was warped and distorted like an old recording. What happened to her? She drank about half of Lake Lyn.
The sound of Lukes voice faded, and for a moment Clarys vision cleared: She was lying on the cold tiled floor of a kitchen, and somewhere above her head Luke was rummaging in a cabinet. The kitchen had peeling yellow walls and an old-fashioned black castiron stove against one wall; flames leaped behind the stove grating,

making her eyes hurt. Anise, belladonna, hellbore Luke turned away from the cabinet with an armful of glass canisters. Can you boil these together, Amatis? Im going to move her closer to the stove. She s shivering.
Clary tried to speak, to say that she didnt need to be warmed, that she was burning up, but the sounds that came out of her mouth werent the ones shed intended. She heard herself whimper as Luke lifted her, and then there was heat, thawing her

left sideshe hadnt even realized she was cold. Her teeth clicked together hard, and she tasted blood in her mouth. The world began to tremble around her like water shaken in a glass. The Lake of Dreams? Amatiss voice was full of disbelief. Clary couldnt see her clearly, but she seemed to be standing near the stove, a long-handled wooden spoon in her hand. What were you doing there? Does Jocelyn know where And the world was gone, or at least the real world, the kitchen with the yellow walls and the comforting fire behind the grate. Instead she saw the waters of Lake Lyn, with fire reflected in them as if in the surface of a piece of polished glass.
Angels were walking on the glassangels with white wings that hung bloodied and broken from their backs, and each of them had
Jaces face. And then there were other angels, with wings of black shadow, and they touched their

hands to the fire and laughed .
She keeps calling out for her brother. Amatiss voice sounded hollow, as if filtering down from impossibly high overhead. Hes with the Lightwoods, isnt he? Theyre staying with the Penhallows on
Princewater Street. I could
No, Luke said sharply. No. It s better
Jace doesn t know about this.
Was I calling out for Jace? Why would I do that? Clary wondered, but the thought was short-lived; the darkness came back, and the

hallucinations claimed her again.
This time she dreamed of Alec and of Isabelle; both looked as if theyd been through a fierce battle, their faces streaked with grime and tears.
Then they were gone, and she dreamed of a faceless man with black wings sprouting from his back like a bats. Blood ran from his mouth when he smiled. Praying that the visions would vanish, Clary squeezed her eyes shut .
It was a long time before she surfaced again to the sound of

voices above her. Drink this, Luke said. Clary, you have to drink this, and then there were hands on her back and fluid was being dripped into her mouth from a soaked rag. It tasted bitter and awful and she choked and gagged on it, but the hands on her back were firm. She swallowed, past the pain in her swollen throat. There, said Luke.
There, that should be better.
Clary opened her eyes slowly.
Kneeling beside her were Luke and
Amatis, their nearly identically blue

eyes filled with matching concern.
She glanced behind them and saw nothingno angels or devils with bat wings, only yellow walls and a pale pink teakettle balanced precariously on a windowsill.
Am I going to die? she whispered.
Luke smiled haggardly. No. Itll be a little while before youre back on form, but you ll survive.
Okay. She was too exhausted to feel much of anything, even relief. It felt as if all her bones had been removed, leaving a limp suit of skin

behind. Looking up drowsily through her eyelashes, she said, almost without thinking, Your eyes are the same.
Luke blinked. The same as what?
As hers, Clary said, moving her sleepy gaze to Amatis, who looked perplexed. The same blue.
The ghost of a smile passed over
Lukes face. Well, its not that surprising, considering, he said. I didnt get a chance to introduce you properly before. Clary, this is
Amatis Herondale. My sister.

The Inquisitor fell silent the moment
Alec and the chief officer were out of earshot. Simon followed him up the narrow witch-lit path, trying not to squint into the light. He was aware of the Gard rising up around him like the side of a ship rising up out of the ocean; lights blazed from its windows, staining the sky with a silvery light. There were low windows too, set at ground level.

Several were barred, and there was only darkness within.
At length they reached a wooden door set into an archway at the side of the building. Aldertree moved to free the lock, and Simons stomach tightened. People, hed noticed since hed become a vampire, had a scent around them that changed with their moods. The Inquisitor stank of something bitter and strong as coffee, but much more unpleasant.
Simon felt the prickling pain in his jaw that meant that his fang teeth

wanted to come out, and shrank back from the Inquisitor as he passed through the door.
The hallway beyond was long and white, almost tunnel-like, as if it had been carved out of white rock.
The Inquisitor hurried along, his witchlight bouncing brightly off the walls. For such a short-legged man he moved remarkably fast, turning his head from side to side as he went, his nose wrinkling as if he were smelling the air. Simon had to hurry to keep pace as they passed a

set of huge double doors, thrown wide open like wings. In the room beyond, Simon could see an amphitheater with row upon row of chairs in it, each one occupied by a black-clad Shadowhunter. V oices echoed off the walls, many raised in anger, and Simon caught snatches of the conversation as he passed, the words blurring as the speakers overlapped each other.
But we have no proof of what
Valentine
wants.
He
has communicated his wishes to no one

What does it matter what he wants?
Hes a renegade and a liar; do you really think any attempt to appease him would benefit us in the end?
You know a patrol found the dead body of a werewolf child on the outskirts of Brocelind? Drained of blood. It looks like Valentines completed the Ritual here in Idris.
With two of the Mortal Instruments in his possession, hes more powerful than any one Nephilim has a right to be. We may have no choice My cousin died on that ship in New
York! Theres no way were letting
Valentine get away with what hes already done! There must be retribution! Simon hesitated, curious to hear more, but the Inquisitor was buzzing around him like a fat, irritable bee.
Come along, come along, he said, swinging his witchlight in front of him. We dont have a lot of time to waste. I should get back to the meeting before it ends.
Reluctantly, Simon allowed the

Inquisitor to push him along the corridor, the word retribution still ringing in his ears. The reminder of that night on the ship was cold, unpleasant. When they reached a door carved with a single stark black rune, the Inquisitor produced a key and unlocked it, ushering
Simon inside with a broad gesture of welcome.
The room beyond was bare, decorated with a single tapestry that showed an angel rising out of a lake, clutching a sword in one hand

and a cup in the other. The fact that hed seen both the Cup and the
Sword
before momentarily distracted Simon. It wasnt until he heard the click of a lock sliding home that he realized the Inquisitor had bolted the door behind him, locking them both in.
Simon glanced around. There was no furniture in the room besides a bench with a low table beside it. A decorative silver bell rested on the table. The PortalIts in here? he asked uncertainly.

Simon, Simon. Aldertree rubbed his hands together as if anticipating a birthday party or some other delightful event. Are you really in such a hurry to leave? There are a few questions I had so hoped to ask you first .
Okay.
Simon shrugged uncomfortably. Ask me whatever you want, I guess.
How very cooperative of you! How delightful! Aldertree beamed. So, how long is it exactly that youve been a vampire?

About two weeks.
And how did it happen? Were you attacked on the street, or perhaps in your bed at night? Do you know who it was who Turned you?
Well not exactly.
But, my boy! Aldertree cried. How could you not know something like that? The look he bent on Simon was open and curious. He seemed so harmless, Simon thought. Like someones grandfather or funny old uncle. Simon must have imagined the bitter smell.

It really wasnt that simple, said
Simon, and went on to explain about his two trips to the Dumort, one as a rat and the second under a compulsion so strong it had felt like a giant set of pincers holding him in their grasp and marching him exactly where they wanted him to go. And so you see, he finished, the moment I walked in the door of the hotel, I was attackedI dont know which of them it was who Turned me, or if it was all of them somehow. The Inquisitor clucked. Oh dear, oh dear. Thats not good at all. Thats very upsetting.
I certainly thought so, Simon agreed. The Clave won t be pleased.
What? Simon was baffled. What does the Clave care how I became a vampire? Well, it would be one thing if you were attacked, Aldertree said apologetically. But you just walked out there and, well, gave yourself up to the vampires, you see? It

looks a bit as if you wanted to be one. I didnt want to be one! Thats not why I went to the hotel!
Of course, of course. Aldertrees voice was soothing. Lets move to another topic, shall we? Without waiting for a response, he went on.
How is it that the vampires let you survive to rise again, young Simon?
Considering that you trespassed on their territory, their normal procedure would have been to feed until you died, and then burn your

body to prevent you from rising.
Simon opened his mouth to reply, to tell the Inquisitor how Raphael had taken him to the Institute, and how
Clary and Jace and Isabelle had brought him to the cemetery and watched over him as hed dug his way out of his own grave. Then he hesitated. He had only the vaguest idea how the Law worked, but he doubted somehow that it was standard Shadowhunter procedure to watch over vampires as they rose, or to provide them with blood

for their first feeding. I dont know, he said. I have no idea why they
Turned me instead of killing me.
But one of them must have let you drink his blood, or you wouldnt bewell, what you are today. Are you saying you dont know who your vampire sire was?
My vampire sire? Simon had never thought of it that wayhed gotten
Raphaels blood in his mouth almost by accident. And it was hard to think of the vampire boy as a sire of any sort. Raphael looked younger

than Simon did. I m afraid not.
Oh, dear. The Inquisitor sighed.
Most unfortunate.
What s unfortunate?
Well, that youre lying to me, my boy. Aldertree shook his head. And
I had so hoped you d cooperate. This is terrible, just terrible. You wouldnt consider telling me the truth? Just as a favor?
I am telling you the truth!
The Inquisitor drooped like an unwatered flower. Such a shame.
He sighed again. Such a shame. He

crossed the room then and rapped sharply on the door, still shaking his head. Whats going on? Alarm and confusion tinged Simons voice.
What about the Portal?
The Portal? Aldertree giggled. You didnt really think I was just going to let you go, did you?
Before Simon could say a word in reply, the door burst open and
Shadowhunters in black gear poured into the room, seizing hold of him. He struggled as strong hands

clamped themselves around each of his arms. A hood was tugged down over his head, blinding him. He kicked out at the darkness; his foot connected, and he heard someone swear. He was jerked backward viciously; a hot voice snarled in his ear. Do that again, vampire, and Ill pour holy water down your throat and watch you die puking blood.
Thats enough! The Inquisitors thin, worried voice rose like a balloon.
There will be no more threats! Im

just trying to teach our guest a lesson. He must have moved forward, because Simon smelled the strange, bitter smell again, muffled through the hood. Simon,
Simon, Aldertree said. I did so enjoy meeting you. I hope a night in the cells of the Gard will have the desired effect and in the morning youll be a bit more cooperative. I do still see such a bright future for us, once we get over this little hiccup. His hand came down on
Simons shoulder. Take him

downstairs, Nephilim.
Simon yelled aloud, but his cries were muffled by the hood. The
Shadowhunters dragged him from the room and propelled him down what felt like an endless series of mazelike corridors, twisting and turning. Eventually they reached a set of stairs and he was shoved down it by main force, his feet slipping on the steps. He couldnt tell anything about where they wereexcept that there was a close, dark smell around them, like wet

stone, and that the air was growing wetter and colder as they descended. At last they paused. There was a scraping sound, like iron dragging over stone, and Simon was thrown forward to land on his hands and knees on hard ground. There was a loud, metallic clang, as of a door being slammed shut, and the sound of retreating footsteps, the echo of boots on stone growing fainter as
Simon staggered to his feet. He dragged the hood from his head and

threw it to the ground. The close, hot, suffocating feeling around his face vanished, and he fought the urge to gasp for breathbreath he didnt need. He knew it was just a reflex, but his chest ached as if hed really been deprived of air.
He was in a square barren stone room, with just a single barred window set into the wall above the small, hard-looking bed. Through a low door Simon could see a tiny bathroom with a sink and toilet. The west wall of the room was also

barredthick, iron-looking bars running from floor to ceiling, sunk deeply into the floor. A hinged iron door, made of bars itself, was set into the wall; it was fitted with a brass knob, which was carved across its face with a dense black rune. In fact, all the bars were carved with runes; even the window bars were wrapped with spidery lines of them.
Though he knew the cell door must be locked, Simon couldnt help himself; he strode across the floor

and seized the knob. A searing pain shot through his hand. He yelled and jerked his arm back, staring. Thin wisps of smoke rose from his burned palm; an intricate design had been charred into the skin. It looked a little like a Star of David inside a circle, with delicate runes drawn in each of the hollow spaces between the lines.
The pain felt like white heat. Simon curled his hand in on itself as a gasp rose to his lips. What is this? he whispered, knowing no one could

hear him.
Its the Seal of Solomon, said a voice. It contains, they claim, one of the True Names of God. It repels demonsand your kind as well, being an article of your faith.
Simon jerked upright, halfforgetting the pain in his hand.
Who s there? Who said that?
There was a pause. Then, Im in the cell next to yours, Daylighter, said the voice. It was male, adult, slightly hoarse. The guards were here half the day talking about how

to keep you penned in. So I wouldnt bother trying to get it open. Youre better off saving your strength till you find out what the Clave wants from you.
They cant hold me here, Simon protested. I dont belong to this world. My family will notice Im missing my teachers
Theyve taken care of that. There are simple enough spellsa beginning warlock could use themthat will supply your parents with the illusion that theres a perfectly

legitimate reason for your absence.
A school trip. A visit to family. It can be done. There was no threat in the voice, and no sorrow; it was matter-of-fact. Do you really think theyve never made a Downworlder disappear before?
Who are you? Simons voice cracked. Are you a Downworlder too? Is this where they keep us?
This time there was no answer.
Simon called out again, but his neighbor had evidently decided that hed said all he wanted to say.

Nothing answered Simons cries but silence. The pain in his hand had faded.
Looking down, Simon saw that the skin no longer looked burned, but the mark of the Seal was printed on his palm as if it had been drawn there in ink. He looked back at the cell bars. He realized now that not all the runes were runes at all:
Carved between them were Stars of
David and lines from the Torah in
Hebrew. The carvings looked new.
The guards were here half the day

talking about how to keep you penned in, the voice had said.
But it hadnt just been because he was a vampire, laughably; it had partly been because he was Jewish.
They had spent half the day carving the Seal of Solomon into that doorknob so it would burn him when he touched it. It had taken them this long to turn the articles of his faith against him.
For some reason the realization stripped away the last of Simons self-possession. He sank down onto

the bed and put his head in his hands. Princewater Street was dark when
Alec returned from the Gard, the windows of the houses shuttered and shaded, only the occasional witchlight streetlamp casting a pool of white illumination onto the cobblestones. The Penhallows house was the brightest on the

blockcandles glowed in the windows, and the front door was slightly ajar, letting a slice of yellow light out to curve along the walkway. Jace was sitting on the low stone wall that bordered the Penhallows front garden, his hair very bright under the light of the nearest streetlamp. He looked up as Alec approached, and shivered a little.
He was wearing only a light jacket,
Alec saw, and it had grown cold since the sun had gone down. The

smell of late roses hung in the chilly air like thin perfume.
Alec sank down onto the wall beside Jace. Have you been out here waiting for me all this time?
Who says I m waiting for you?
It went fine, if thats what you were worried about. I left Simon with the
Inquisitor.
Yo u left him? You didnt stay to make sure everything went all right?
It was fine, Alec repeated. The
Inquisitor said hed take him inside personally and send him back to

The Inquisitor said, the Inquisitor said, Jace interrupted. The last
Inquisitor we met completely exceeded her commandif she hadnt died, the Clave would have relieved her of her position, maybe even cursed her. Whats to say this
Inquisitor isn t a nut job too?
He seemed all right, said Alec.
Nice, even. He was perfectly polite to Simon. Look, Jacethis is how the
Clave works. We don t get to control everything that happens. But you have to trust them, because

otherwise everything turns into chaos. But theyve screwed up a lot recently you have to admit that.
Maybe, Alec said, but if you start thinking you know better than the
Clave and better than the Law, what ma ke s you any better than the
Inquisitor? Or Valentine?
Jace flinched. He looked as if Alec had hit him, or worse.
Alecs stomach dropped. Im sorry.
He reached out a hand. I didnt mean that A beam of bright yellow light cut across the garden suddenly. Alec looked up to see Isabelle framed in the open front door, light pouring out around her. She was only a silhouette, but he could tell from the hands on her hips that she was annoyed. What are you two doing out here? she called. Everyones wondering where you are.
Alec turned back to his friend. Jace
But Jace, getting to his feet, ignored
Alecs outstretched hand. Youd better be right about the Clave, was

all he said.
Alec watched as Jace stalked back to the house. Unbidden, Simons voice came into his mind. Now I wonder all the time how you go back after something like that.
Whether we can ever be friends again, or if what we had is broken into pieces. Not because of her, but because of me.
The front door shut, leaving Alec sitting in the half-lit garden, alone.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the image of a face hovering behind

his lids. Not Jaces face, for a change. The eyes set in the face were green, slit-pupiled. Cat eyes.
Opening his eyes, he reached into his satchel and drew out a pen and a piece of paper, torn from the spiralbound notebook he used as a journal. He wrote a few words on it and then, with his stele, traced the rune for fire at the bottom of the page. It went up faster than hed thought it would; he let go of the paper as it burned, floating in midair like a firefly. Soon all that

was left was a fine drift of ash, sifting like white powder across the rosebushes. 5

A PROBLEM OF MEMORY

Afternoon light woke Clary, a beam of pale brightness that laid itself directly over her face, lighting the insides of her eyelids to hot

pink. She stirred restlessly and warily opened her eyes.
The fever was gone, and so was the sense that her bones were melting and breaking inside her. She sat up and glanced around with curious eyes. She was in what had to be
Amatiss spare roomit was small, white-painted, the bed covered with a brightly woven rag blanket. Lace curtains were drawn back over round windows, letting in circles of light. She sat up slowly, waiting for dizziness to wash over her. Nothing

happened. She felt entirely healthy, even well rested. Getting out of bed, she looked down at herself.
Someone had put her in a pair of starched white pajamas, though they were wrinkled now and too big for her; the sleeves hung down comically past her fingers.
She went to one of the circular windows and peered out. Stacked houses of old-gold stone rose up the side of a hill, and the roofs looked as if they had been shingled in bronze. This side of the house faced

away from the canal, onto a narrow side garden turning brown and gold with autumn. A trellis crawled up the side of the house; a single last rose hung on it, drooping browning petals. The doorknob rattled, and Clary climbed hastily back into bed just before Amatis entered, holding a tray in her hands. She raised her eyebrows when she saw Clary was awake, but said nothing.
Wheres Luke? Clary demanded, drawing the blanket close around

herself for comfort.
Amatis set the tray down on the table beside the bed. There was a mug of something hot on it, and some slices of buttered bread. You should eat something, she said.
You ll feel better.
I feel fine, Clary said. Wheres
Luke?
There was a high-backed chair beside the table; Amatis sat in it, folded her hands in her lap, and regarded Clary calmly. In the daylight Clary could see more

clearly the lines in her faceshe looked older than Clarys mother by many years, though they couldnt be that far apart in age. Her brown hair was stippled with gray, her eyes rimmed with dark pink, as if she had been crying. He s not here.
Not here like he just popped around the corner to the bodega for a sixpack of Diet Coke and a box of
Krispy Kremes, or not here like
He left this morning, around dawn, after sitting up with you all night.
As to his destination, he wasnt

specific. Amatiss tone was dry, and if Clary hadnt felt so wretched, she might have been amused to note that it made her sound much more like
Luke. When he lived here, before he left Idris, after he wasChangedhe led a wolf pack that made its home in Brocelind Forest. He said he was going back to them, but he wouldnt say why or for how longonly that he d be back in a few days.
He justleft me here? Am I supposed to sit around and wait for him?
Well, he couldnt very well take you

with him, could he? Amatis asked.
And it wont be easy for you to get home. You broke the Law in coming here like you did, and the Clave wont overlook that, or be generous about letting you leave.
I dont want to go home. Clary tried to collect herself. I came here toto meet someone. I have something to do. Luke told me, said Amatis. Let me give you a piece of adviceyoull only find Ragnor Fell if he wants to be found.

But
Clarissa. Amatis looked at her speculatively. Were expecting an attack by Valentine at any moment.
Almost every Shadowhunter in Idris is here in the city, inside the wards.
Staying in Alicante is the safest thing for you.
Clary sat frozen. Rationally,
Amatiss words made sense, but it didnt do much to quiet the voice inside her screaming that she couldnt wait. She had to find
Ragnor Fell now; she had to save

her mother now, she had to go now.
She bit down on her panic and tried to speak casually. Luke never told me he had a sister.
No, Amatis said. He wouldnt have.
We weren t close.
Luke said your last name was
Herondale, Clary said. But thats the
Inquisitor s last name. Isn t it?
It was, said Amatis, and her face tightened as if the words pained her.
She was my mother-in-law.
What was it Luke had told Clary about the Inquisitor? That shed had

a son, whod married a woman with undesirable family connections.
You were married to Stephen
Herondale?
Amatis looked surprised. You know his name?
I doLuke told mebut I thought his wife died. I thought thats why the
Inquisitor was so Horrible, she wanted to say, but it seemed cruel to say it. Bitter, she said at last.
Amatis reached for the mug shed brought; her hand shook a little as she lifted it. Yes, she did die.

Killed herself. That was CélineStephens second wife. I was the first.
And you got divorced?
Something like that. Amatis thrust the mug at Clary. Look, drink this.
You have to put something in your stomach. Distracted, Clary took the mug and swallowed a hot mouthful. The liquid inside was rich and saltynot tea, as shed thought, but soup. Okay, she said. So what happened?
Amatis was gazing into the distance.

We were in the Circle, Stephen and
I, along with everyone else. When
Luke waswhen what happened to
Luke happened, Valentine needed a new lieutenant. He chose Stephen.
And when he chose Stephen, he decided that perhaps it wouldnt be fitting for the wife of his closest friend and adviser to be someone whose brother was
A werewolf.
He used another word. Amatis sounded bitter. He convinced
Stephen to annul our marriage and

to find himself another wife, one that Valentine had picked for him.
Céline was so youngso completely obedient. That s horrible.
Amatis shook her head with a brittle laugh. It was a long time ago.
Stephen was kind, I supposehe gave me this house and moved back into the Herondale manor with his parents and Céline. I never saw him again after that. I left the Circle, of course. They wouldnt have wanted me anymore. The only one of them

who still visited me was Jocelyn.
She even told me when she went to see Luke. She pushed her graying hair back behind her ears. I heard what happened to Stephen in the
Uprising once it was all over. And
CélineId hated her, but I felt sorry for her then. She cut her wrists, they sayblood everywhere She took a deep breath. I saw Imogen later at
Stephens funeral, when they put his body into the Herondale mausoleum. She didnt even seem to recognize me. They made her the

Inquisitor not long after that. The
Clave felt there was no one else who would have hunted down the former members of the Circle more ruthlessly than she didand they were right. If she could have washed away her memories of Stephen in their blood, she would have.
Clary thought of the cold eyes of the
Inquisitor, her narrow, hard stare, and tried to feel pity for her. I think it made her crazy, she said. Really crazy. She was horrible to mebut mostly to Jace. It was like she

wanted him dead.
That makes sense, said Amatis. You look like your mother, and your mother brought you up, but your brother She cocked her head to the side. Does he look as much like
Valentine as you look like Jocelyn?
No, Clary said. Jace just looks like himself. A shiver went through her at the thought of Jace. Hes here in
Alicante, she said, thinking out loud. If I could see him
No. Amatis spoke with asperity.
You can t leave the house. Not to see

anyone. And definitely not to see your brother.
Not leave the house? Clary was horrified. You mean Im stuck here?
Like a prisoner?
Its only for a day or two, Amatis admonished her, and besides, youre not well. You need to recover. The lake water nearly killed you.
But Jace
Is one of the Lightwoods. You cant go over there. The moment they see you, they ll tell the Clave you re here.
And then you wont be the only one

in trouble with the Law. Luke will be too.
But the Lightwoods won t betray me to the Clave. They wouldn t do that
The words died on her lips. There was no way she was going to be able to convince Amatis that the
Lightwoods shed known fifteen years ago no longer existed, that
Robert and Maryse werent blindly loyal fanatics anymore. This woman might be Lukes sister, but she was still a stranger to Clary. She was almost a stranger to Luke. He hadnt

seen her in sixteen yearshad never even mentioned she existed. Clary leaned back against the pillows, feigning weariness. Youre right, she said. I dont feel well. I think Id better sleep.
Good idea. Amatis leaned over and plucked the empty mug out of her hand. If you want to take a shower, the bathrooms across the hall. And theres a trunk of my old clothes at the foot of the bed. You look like youre about the size I was when I was your age, so they might fit you.

Unlike those pajamas, she added, and smiled, a weak smile that Clary didnt return. She was too busy fighting the urge to pound her fists against the mattress in frustration.
The moment the door closed behind
Amatis, Clary scrambled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, hoping that standing in hot water would help clear her head. To her relief, for all their oldfashionedness, the Shadowhunters seemed to believe in modern plumbing and hot and cold running

water. There was even sharply scented citrus soap to rinse the lingering smell of Lake Lyn out of her hair. By the time she emerged, wrapped in two towels, she was feeling much better.
In the bedroom she rummaged through Amatiss trunk. Her clothes were packed away neatly between layers of crisp paper. There were what looked like school clothesmerino wool sweaters with an insignia that looked like four Cs back to back sewed over the breast

pocket, pleated skirts, and buttondown shirts with narrow cuffs.
There was a white dress swathed in layers of tissue papera wedding dress, Clary thought, and laid it aside carefully. Below it was another dress, this one made of silvery silk, with slender bejeweled straps holding up its gossamer weight. Clary couldnt imagine
Amatis in it, butThis is the sort of thing my mother might have worn when she went dancing with
Valentine, she couldnt help

thinking, and let the dress slide back into the trunk, its texture soft and cool against her fingers.
And
then there was the Shadowhunter gear, packed away at the very bottom.
Clary drew out those clothes and spread them curiously across her lap. The first time she had seen Jace and the Lightwoods, they had been wearing their fighting gear: closefitting tops and pants of tough, dark material. Up close she could see that the material was not

stretchy but stiff, a thin leather pounded very flat until it became flexible. There was a jacket-type top that zipped up and pants that had complicated belt loops. Shadowhunter belts were big, sturdy things, meant for hanging weapons on.
She ought, of course, to put on one of the sweaters and maybe a skirt.
That was what Amatis had probably meant her to do. But something about the fighting gear called to her; she had always been curious,

always wondered what it would be like . A few minutes later the towels were hanging over the bar at the foot of the bed and Clary was regarding herself in the mirror with surprise and not a little amusement. The gear fitit was tight but not too tight, and hugged the curves of her legs and chest. In fact, it made her look as if she had curves, which was sort of novel. It couldnt make her look formidableshe doubted anything could do thatbut at least she looked

taller, and her hair against the black material was extraordinarily bright.
In factI look like my mother, Clary thought with a jolt.
And she did. Jocelyn had always had a steely core of toughness under her doll-like looks. Clary had often wondered what had happened in her mothers past to make her the way she wasstrong and unbending, stubborn and unafraid. Does your brother look as much like
Valentine as you look like
Jocelyn? Amatis had asked, and

Clary had wanted to reply that she didnt look at all like her mother, that her mother was beautiful and she wasnt. But the Jocelyn that
Amatis had known was the girl whod plotted to bring down
Valentine, whod secretly forged an alliance of
Nephilim
and
Downworlders that had broken the
Circle and saved the Accords. That
Jocelyn would never have agreed to stay quietly inside this house and wait while everything in her world fell apart.

Without pausing to think, Clary crossed the room and shot home the bolt on the door, locking it. Then she went to the window and pushed it open. The trellis was there, clinging to the side of the stone wall like Like a ladder, Clary told her sel f. Just like a ladderand ladders are perfectly safe.
Taking a deep breath, she crawled out onto the window ledge.

The guards came back for Simon the next morning, shaking him awake out of an already fitful sleep plagued with strange dreams. This time they didnt blindfold him as they led him back upstairs, and he snuck a quick glance through the barred door of the cell next to his. If hed hoped to get a look at the owner of the hoarse voice that had spoken to him the night before, he was disappointed. The only thing visible through the bars was what looked

like a pile of discarded rags.
The guards hurried Simon along a series of gray corridors, quick to shake him if he looked too long in any direction. Finally they came to a halt in a richly wallpapered room.
There were portraits on the walls of different men and women in
Shadowhunter gear, the frames decorated with patterns of runes.
Below one of the largest portraits was a red couch on which the
Inquisitor was seated, holding what looked like a silver cup in his hand.

He held it out to Simon. Blood? he inquired. You must be hungry by now. He tipped the cup toward Simon, and the view of the red liquid inside it hit him just as the smell did. His veins strained toward the blood, like strings under the control of a master puppeteer. The feeling was unpleasant, almost painful. Is it human? Aldertree chuckled. My boy! Dont be ridiculous. Its deer blood.
Perfectly fresh.

Simon said nothing. His lower lip stung where his fangs had slid from their sheaths, and he tasted his own blood in his mouth. It filled him with nausea.
Aldertrees face screwed up like a dried plum. Oh, dear. He turned to the guards. Leave us now, gentlemen, he said, and they turned to go. Only the Consul paused at the door, glancing back at Simon with a look of unmistakable disgust.
No, thank you, Simon said through the thickness in his mouth. I dont

want the blood.
Your fangs say otherwise, young
Simon, Aldertree replied genially.
Here. Take it. He held out the cup, and the smell of blood seemed to waft through the room like the scent of roses through a garden.
Simons
incisors stabbed downward, fully extended now, slicing into his lip. The pain was like a slap; he moved forward, almost without volition, and grabbed the cup out of the
Inquisitors hand. He drained it in

three swallows, then, realizing what he had done, set it down on the arm of the couch. His hand was shaking.
Inquisitor one, he thought. Me zero.
I trust your night in the cells wasnt too unpleasant? Theyre not meant to be torture chambers, my boy, more along the lines of a space for enforced reflection. I find reflection absolutely centers the mind, dont you? Essential to clear thinking. I do hope you got some thinking in.
You seem like a thoughtful young man. The Inquisitor cocked his head

to the side. I brought that blanket down for you with my own hands, you know. I wouldnt have wanted you to be cold.
Im a vampire, Simon said. We dont get cold.
Oh.
The
Inquisitor
looked disappointed. I appreciated the Stars of David and the Seal of Solomon, Simon added dryly. Its always nice to see someone taking an interest in my religion. Oh, yes, of course, of course!

Aldertree brightened. Wonderful, arent they, the carvings? Absolutely charming, and of course foolproof.
Id imagine any attempt to touch the cell door would melt the skin right off your hand! He chuckled, clearly amused by the thought. In any case.
Could you take a step backward for me, my man? Just as a favor, a pure favor, you understand.
Simon took a step back.
Nothing
happened, but the
Inquisitors eyes widened, the puffy skin around them looking stretched

and shiny. I see, he breathed.
You see what?
Look where you are, young Simon.
Look all about you.
Simon glanced aroundnothing had changed about the room, and it took a moment for him to realize what
Aldertree meant. He was standing in a bright patch of sun that angled through a window high overhead.
Aldertree was almost squirming with excitement. Youre standing in direct sunlight, and its having no effect on you at all. I almost

wouldnt have believed itI mean, I was told, of course, but Ive never seen anything like it before.
Simon said nothing. There seemed to be nothing to say.
The question for you, of course,
Aldertree went on, is whether you know why you re like this.
Maybe Im just nicer than the other vampires. Simon was immediately sorry hed spoken. Aldertrees eyes narrowed, and a vein bulged at his temple like a fat worm. Clearly, he didnt like jokes unless he was the

one making them.
Very amusing, very amusing, he said. Let me ask you this: Have you been a Daylighter since the moment you rose from the grave?
No. Simon spoke with care. No. At first the sun burned me. Even just a patch of sunlight would scorch my skin. Indeed. Aldertree gave a vigorous nod, as if to say that that was the way things ought to be. So when was it you first noticed that you could walk in the daylight without

pain?
It was the morning after the big battle on Valentine s ship
During which Valentine captured you, is that correct? He had captured you and kept you prisoner on his ship, meaning to use your blood to complete the Ritual of
Infernal Conversion.
I guess you know everything already, Simon said. You hardly need me.
Oh, no, not at all! Aldertree cried, throwing up his hands. He had very

small hands, Simon noticed, so small that they looked a little out of place at the ends of his plump arms.
You have so much to contribute, my dear boy! For instance, I cant help wondering if there was something that happened on the ship, something that changed you. Is there anything you can think of?
I drank Jace s blood, Simon thought, half-inclined to repeat this to the
Inquisitor just to be nastyand then, with a jolt, realized, I drank Jaces blood. Could that have been what

changed him? Was it possible? And whether it was possible or not, could he tell the Inquisitor what
Jace had done? Protecting Clary was one thing; protecting Jace was another. He didnt owe Jace anything. Except that wasnt strictly true. Jace had offered him his blood to drink, had saved his life with it. Would another Shadowhunter have done that, for a vampire? And even if hed only done it for Clarys sake, did it matter? He thought of himself

saying, I could have killed you.
And Jace: I would have let you.
There was no telling what kind of trouble Jace would get into if the
Clave knew he had saved Simons life, and how.
I dont remember anything from the boat, Simon said. I think Valentine must have drugged me or something.
Aldertrees face fell. Thats terrible news. Terrible. Im so sorry to hear it. Im sorry too, Simon said, although he wasn t.

So there isnt a single thing you remember? Not one colorful detail?
I just remember passing out when
Valentine attacked me, and then I woke up later onon Lukes truck, headed home. I dont remember anything else.
Oh dear, oh dear. Aldertree drew his cloak around him. I see the
Lightwoods seem to have become rather fond of you, but the other members of the Clave are not sounderstanding. You were captured by Valentine, you emerged

from this confrontation with a peculiar new power you hadnt had before, and now youve found your way to the heart of Idris. You do see how it looks?
If Simons heart had still been able to beat, it would have been racing.
You think I m a spy for Valentine.
Aldertree looked shocked. My boy, my boyI trust you, of course. I trust you implicitly! But the Clave, oh, the Clave, Im afraid they can be very suspicious. We had so hoped youd be able to help us. You seeand

I shouldnt be telling you this, but I feel I can confide in you, dear boy the Clave is in dreadful trouble.
The Clave? Simon felt dazed. But what does that have to do with
You see, Aldertree went on, the
Clave is split down the middleat war with itself, you might say, in a time of war. Mistakes were made, by the previous Inquisitor and othersperhaps its better not to dwell. But you see, the very authority of the Clave, of the Consul and the Inquisitor, is under question.

Valentine always seems to be a step ahead of us, as if he knows our plans in advance. The Council will not listen to my advice or Malachis, not after what happened in New
York.
I thought that was the Inquisitor
And Malachi was the one who appointed her. Now, of course, he had no idea she would go as mad as she did
But, Simon said, a little sourly,
there is the question of how it looks.
The vein bulged in Aldertrees

forehead again. Clever, he said.
And you re correct. Appearances are significant, and never more than in politics. You can always sway the crowd, provided you have a good story. He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Simon. Now let me tell you a story. It goes like this. The
Lightwoods were once in the
Circle. At some point they recanted and were granted mercy on the grounds that they stayed out of Idris, went to New York, and ran the
Institute there. Their blameless

record began to win them back the trust of the Clave. But all along they knew Valentine was alive. All along they were his loyal servants.
They took in his son
But they didn t know
Be quiet, the Inquisitor snarled, and
Simon shut his mouth. They helped him find the Mortal Instruments and assisted him with the Ritual of
Infernal Conversion. When the
Inquisitor discovered what they were secretly up to, they arranged to have her killed during the battle

on the ship. And now they have come here, to the heart of the Clave, to spy on our plans and reveal them to Valentine as they are made, so that he can defeat us and ultimately bend all Nephilim to his will. And they have brought you with them you, a vampire who can withstand sunlightto distract us from their true plans: to return the Circle to its former glory and destroy the Law.
The Inquisitor leaned forward, his piggy eyes gleaming. What do you think of that story, vampire?

I think its insane, said Simon. And its got more giant holes in it than
Kent Avenue in Brooklynwhich, incidentally, hasnt been resurfaced in years. I dont know what youre hoping to accomplish with this
Hoping? echoed Aldertree. I dont hope, Downworlder. I know in my heart. I know it is my sacred duty to save the Clave.
With a lie? said Simon.
With a story, said Aldertree. Great politicians weave tales to inspire their people.

Theres nothing inspirational about blaming the Lightwoods for everything Some must be sacrificed, said
Aldertree. His face shone with a sweaty light. Once the Council has a common enemy, and a reason to trust the Clave again, they will come together. What is the cost of one family, weighed against all that? In fact, I doubt anything much will happen to the Lightwood children. They wont be blamed.
Well, perhaps the eldest boy. But

the others
You cant do this, Simon said.
Nobody will believe this story.
People believe what they want to believe, Aldertree said, and the
Clave wants someone to blame. I can give them that. All I need is you. Me? What does this have to do with me? Confess. The Inquisitors face was scarlet with excitement now.
Confess that youre a servant of the
Lightwoods, that youre all in league

with Valentine. Confess and Ill show you leniency. Ill send you back to your own people. I swear to it. But I need your confession to make the Clave believe.
You want me to confess to a lie,
Simon said. He knew he was just repeating what the Inquisitor had already said, but his mind was whirling; he couldnt seem to catch hold of a single thought. The faces of the Lightwoods spun through his mind Alec, catching his breath on the path up to the Gard; Isabelles dark

eyes turned up to his; Max bent over a book.
And Jace. Jace was one of them as much as if he shared their
Lightwood blood. The Inquisitor hadnt said his name, but Simon knew Jace would pay along with the rest of them. And whatever he suffered, Clary would suffer. How had it happened, Simon thought, that he was bound to these peopleto people who thought of him as nothing more than a Downworlder, half human at best?

He raised his eyes to the
Inquisitors. Aldertrees were an odd charcoal black; looking into them was like looking into darkness. No,
Simon said. No, I won t do it.
That blood I gave you, Aldertree said, is all the blood youll see until you give me a different answer.
There was no kindness in his voice, not even false kindness. Youd be surprised how thirsty you can get.
Simon said nothing.
Another night in the cells, then, the
Inquisitor said, rising to his feet and

reaching for a bell to summon the guards. Its quite peaceful down there, isnt it? I do find that a peaceful atmosphere can help with a little problem of memorydont you? Though Clary had told herself she remembered the way shed come with Luke the night before, this turned out not to be entirely true.

Heading toward the city center seemed like the best bet for getting directions, but once she found the stone courtyard with the disused well, she couldnt remember whether to turn left or right from it.
She turned left, which plunged her into a warren of twisting streets, each one much like the next and each turn getting her more hopelessly lost than before.
Finally she emerged into a wider street lined with shops. Pedestrians hurried by on either side, none of

them giving her a second glance. A few of them were also dressed in fighting gear, although most werent:
It was cool out, and long, oldfashioned coats were the order of the day. The wind was brisk, and with a pang Clary thought of her green velvet coat, hanging up in
Amatis s spare bedroom.
Luke hadnt been lying when hed said that Shadowhunters had come from all over the world for the summit. Clary passed an Indian woman in a gorgeous gold sari, a

pair of curved blades hanging from a chain around her waist. A tall, dark-skinned man with an angular
Aztec face was gazing into a shop window full of weaponry; bracelets made of the same hard, shining material as the demon towers laddered his wrists. Farther down the street a man in a white nomadic robe consulted what looked like a street map. The sight of him gave
Clary the nerve to approach a passing woman in a heavy brocade coat and ask her the way to

Princewater Street. If there was ever going to be a time when the citys inhabitants wouldnt necessarily be suspicious of someone who didnt seem to know where they were going, this would be it.
Her instinct was right; without a trace of hesitation the woman gave her a hurried series of directions.
And then right at the end of
Oldcastle Canal, and over the stone bridge, and thats where youll find
Princewater. She gave Clary a

smile. Visiting anyone in particular?
The Penhallows.
Oh, thats the blue house, gold trim, backs up onto the canal. Its a big place you can t miss it.
She was half-right. It was a big place, but Clary walked right by it before realizing her mistake and swerving back around to look at it again. It was really more indigo than blue, she thought, but then again not everyone noticed colors that way. Most people couldnt tell the difference between lemon yellow

and saffron. As if they were even close to each other! And the trim on the house wasnt gold; it was bronze.
A nice darkish bronze, as if the house had been there for many years, and it probably had.
Everything in this place was so ancient Enough, Clary told herself. She always did this when she was nervous, let her mind wander off in all sorts of random directions. She rubbed her hands down the sides of her trousers; her palms were sweaty

and damp. The material felt rough and dry against her skin, like snake scales. She mounted the steps and took hold of the heavy door knocker. It was shaped like a pair of angels wings, and when she let it fall, she could hear the sound echoing like the tolling of a huge bell. A moment later the door was yanked open, and
Isabelle Lightwood stood on the threshold, her eyes wide with shock. Clary?

Clary smiled weakly. Hi, Isabelle.
Isabelle
leaned against the doorjamb, her expression dismal.
Oh, crap.

Back in the cell Simon collapsed on the bed, listening to the footsteps of the guards recede as they marched away from his door. Another night.
Another night down here in prison, while the Inquisitor waited for him

to remember. You do see how it looks. In all his worst fears, his worst nightmares, it had never occurred to Simon that anyone might think he was in league with
Valentine.
Valentine hated Downworlders, famously. Valentine had stabbed him and drained his blood and left him to die. Although, admittedly, the Inquisitor didnt know that.
There was a rustle from the other side of the cell wall. I have to admit, I wondered if youd be

coming back, said the hoarse voice
Simon remembered from the night before. I take it you didnt give the
Inquisitor what he wants?
I dont think so, Simon said, approaching the wall. He ran his fingers over the stone as if looking for a crack in it, something he could see through, but there was nothing.
Who are you?
Hes a stubborn man, Aldertree, said the voice, as if Simon hadnt spoken.
He ll keep trying.
Simon leaned against the damp

wall. Then I guess Ill be down here for a while.
I dont suppose youd be willing to tell me what it is he wants from you? Why do you want to know?
The chuckle that answered Simon sounded like metal scraping against stone. Ive been in this cell longer than you have, Daylighter, and as you can see, theres not a lot to keep the mind occupied. Any distraction helps. Simon laced his hands over his

stomach. The deer blood had taken the edge off his hunger, but it hadnt been quite enough. His body still ached with thirst. You keep calling me that, he said. Daylighter.
I heard the guards talking about you.
A vampire who can walk around in the sunlight. No ones ever seen anything like it before.
And yet you have a word for it.
Convenient.
Its a Downworlder word, not a
Clave one. They have legends about creatures like you. Im surprised you

don t know that.
I
havent exactly been a Downworlder for very long, Simon said. And you seem to know a lot about me.
The guards like to gossip, said the voice. And the Lightwoods appearing through the Portal with a bleeding, dying vampirethats a good piece of gossip. Though I have to say I wasnt expecting you to show up herenot until they started fixing up the cell for you. Im surprised the
Lightwoods stood for it.

Why wouldnt they? Simon said bitterly. Im nothing. Im a
Downworlder.
Maybe to the Consul, said the voice. But the Lightwoods
What about them?
There was a short pause. Those
Shadowhunters who live outside
Idrisespecially those who run
Institutestend to be more tolerant.
The local Clave, on the other hand, is a good deal more hidebound.
And what about you? Simon said.
Are you a Downworlder?

A Downworlder? Simon couldnt be sure, but there was an edge of anger in the strangers voice, as if he resented the question. My name is
Samuel. Samuel Blackburn. I am
Nephilim. Years ago I was in the
Circle, with Valentine. I slaughtered
Downworlders at the Uprising. I am not one of them.
Oh. Simon swallowed. His mouth tasted of salt. The members of
Valentines Circle had been caught and punished by the Clave, he remembered except for those like the

Lightwoods, whod managed to make deals or accept exile in exchange for forgiveness. Have you been down here ever since?
No. After the Uprising, I slipped out of Idris before I could be caught. I stayed away for years years until like a fool, thinking Id been forgotten, I came back. Of course they caught me the moment I returned. The
Clave has its ways of tracking its enemies. They dragged me in front of the Inquisitor, and I was interrogated for days. When they

were done, they tossed me in here.
Samuel sighed. In French this sort of prison is called an oubliette. It means a forgetting place. Its where you toss the garbage you dont want to remember, so it can rot away without bothering you with its stench. Fine. Im a Downworlder, so Im garbage. But youre not. Youre
Nephilim.
Im Nephilim who was in league with Valentine. That makes me no better than you. Worse, even. Im a

turncoat.
But there are plenty of other
Shadowhunters who used to be
Circle membersthe Lightwoods and the Penhallows
They all recanted. Turned their backs on Valentine. I didn t.
You didn t? But why not?
Because Im more afraid of
Valentine than I am of the Clave, said Samuel, and if you were sensible, Daylighter, you would be too. But youre supposed to be in New
York! Isabelle exclaimed. Jace said youd changed your mind about coming. He said you wanted to stay with your mother!
Jace lied, Clary said flatly. He didnt want me here, so he lied to me about when you were leaving, and then lied to you about me changing my mind. Remember when you told me he never lies? That is so not

true.
He normally never does, said
Isabelle, who had gone pale. Look, did you come hereI mean, does this have something to do with Simon?
With Simon? No. Simons safe in
New York, thank God. Although hes going to be really pissed that he never got to say good-bye to me.
Isabelles blank expression was starting to annoy Clary. Come on,
Isabelle. Let me in. I need to see
Jace.
Soyou just came here on your own?

Did you have permission from the
Clave? Please tell me you had permission from the Clave.
Not as such
You broke the Law? Isabelles voice rose, and then dropped. She went on, almost in a whisper, If Jace finds out, hell freak. Clary, youve got to go home.
No. Im supposed to be here, Clary said, not even sure herself quite where her stubbornness was coming from. And I need to talk to Jace.
Now isnt a good time. Isabelle

looked around anxiously, as if hoping there was someone she could appeal to for help in removing Clary from the premises.
Please, just go back to New York.
Please?
I thought you liked me, Izzy. Clary went for the guilt.
Isabelle bit her lip. She was wearing a white dress and had her hair pinned up and looked younger than she usually did. Behind her
Clary could see a high-ceilinged entryway hung with antique-looking

oil paintings. I do like you. Its just that Jaceoh my God, what are you wearing? Where did you get fighting gear?
Clary looked down at herself. Its a long story.
You can t come in here like that. If
Jace sees you
Oh, so what if he sees me. Isabelle,
I came here because of my mother for my mother. Jace may not want me here, but he cant make me stay home. Im supposed to be here.
My mother expected me to do this

for her. Youd do it for your mother, wouldn t you?
Of course I would, Isabelle said.
But, Clary, Jace has his reasons
Then Id love to hear what they are.
Clary ducked under Isabelles arm and into the entryway of the house.
Clary! Isabelle yelped, and darted after her, but Clary was already halfway down the hall. She saw, with the half of her mind that wasnt concentrating on dodging Isabelle, that the house was built like
Amatiss, tall and thin, but

considerably larger and more richly decorated. The hallway opened into a room with high windows that looked out over a wide canal.
White boats plied the water, their sails drifting by like dandelion clocks tossed on the wind. A darkhaired boy sat on a couch by one of the windows, apparently reading a book. Sebastian! Isabelle called. Dont let her go upstairs!
The boy looked up, startledand a moment later was in front of Clary,

blocking her path to the stairs. Clary skidded to a haltshed never seen anyone move that fast before, except
Jace. The boy wasnt even out of breath; in fact, he was smiling at her. So this is the famous Clary. His smile lit up his face, and Clary felt her breath catch. For years shed drawn her own ongoing graphic storythe tale of a kings son who was under a curse that meant that everyone he loved would die. Shed put everything she had into

dreaming up her dark, romantic, shadowy prince, and here he was, standing in front of herthe same pale skin, the same tumbling hair, and eyes so dark, the pupils seemed to meld with the iris. The same high cheekbones and deep-set, shadowed eyes fringed with long lashes. She knew shed never set eyes on this boy before, and yet
The boy looked puzzled. I dont think have we met before?
Speechless, Clary shook her head.
Sebastian! Isabelles hair had come

out of its pins and hung down over her shoulders, and she was glaring.
Dont be nice to her. Shes not supposed to be here. Clary, go home. With an effort Clary wrenched her gaze away from Sebastian and shot a glare at Isabelle. What, back to
New York? And how am I supposed to get there?
How did you get here? Sebastian inquired. Sneaking into Alicante is quite an accomplishment.
I came through a Portal, said Clary.

A
Portal?
Isabelle looked astonished. But there isn t a Portal left in New York. Valentine destroyed them both
I dont owe you any explanations,
Clary said. Not until you give me some. For one thing, where s Jace?
Hes not here, Isabelle answered, at exactly the same time that Sebastian said, He s upstairs.
Isabelle turned on him. Sebastian!
Shut up.
Sebastian looked perplexed. But shes his sister. Wouldnt he want to

see her?
Isabelle opened her mouth and then closed it again. Clary could see that
Isabelle
was weighing the advisability of explaining her complicated relationship with Jace to the completely oblivious
Sebastian against the advisability of springing an unpleasant surprise on
Jace. Finally she threw her hands up in a gesture of despair. Fine, Clary, she said, with an unusualfor
Isabelleamount of anger in her voice. Go ahead and do whatever

you want, regardless of who it hurts. You always do anyway, dont you? Ouch. Clary shot Isabelle a reproachful look before turning back to Sebastian, who stepped silently out of her way. She darted past him and up the stairs, vaguely aware of voices below her as
Isabelle shouted at the unfortunate
Sebastian. But that was Isabelleif there was a boy around and blame that needed to be pinned on someone, Isabelle would pin it on

him.
The staircase widened into a landing with a bay-windowed alcove that looked out over the city.
A boy was sitting in the alcove, reading. He looked up as Clary came up the stairs, and blinked in surprise. I know you.
Hi, Max. Its ClaryJaces sister.
Remember?
Max brightened. You showed me how to read Naruto, he said, holding out his book to her. Look, I got another one. This one s called

Max, I cant talk now. I promise Ill look at your book later, but do you know where Jace is?
Maxs face fell. That room, he said, and pointed to the last door down the hall. I wanted to go in there with him, but he told me he had to do grown-up stuff. Everyones always telling me that.
Im sorry, Clary said, but her mind was no longer on the conversation.
It was racing aheadwhat would she say to Jace when she saw him, what would he say to her? Moving down

the hall to the door, she thought, It would be better to be friendly, not angry; yelling at him will just make him defensive. He has to understand that I belong here, just like he does. I dont need to be protected like a piece of delicate china. I m strong too
She threw the door open. The room seemed to be a sort of library, the walls lined with books. It was brightly lit, light streaming through a tall picture window. In the middle of the room stood Jace. He wasnt

alone, thoughnot by a long shot.
There was a dark-haired girl with him, a girl Clary had never seen before, and the two of them were locked together in a passionate embrace. 6

BAD BLOOD

Dizziness washed over Clary, as

if all the air had been sucked out of the room. She tried to back away but stumbled and hit the door with her shoulder. It shut with a bang, and Jace and the girl broke apart.
Clary froze. They were both staring at her. She noticed that the girl had dark straight hair to her shoulders and was extremely pretty. The top buttons of her shirt were undone, showing a strip of lacy bra. Clary felt as if she were about to throw up. The girls hands went to her blouse,

quickly doing up the buttons. She didnt look pleased. Excuse me, she said with a frown. Who are you?
Clary didnt answershe was looking at Jace, who was staring at her incredulously. His skin was drained of all color, showing the dark rings around his eyes. He looked at Clary as if he were staring down the barrel of a gun.
Aline. Jaces voice was without warmth or color. This is my sister,
Clary.
Oh. Oh. Alines face relaxed into a

slightly embarrassed smile. Sorry!
What a way to meet you. Hi, Im
Aline.
She advanced on Clary, still smiling, her hand out. I dont think I can touch her, Clary thought with a sinking feeling of horror. She looked at Jace, who seemed to read the expression in her eyes; unsmiling, he took Aline by the shoulders and said something in her ear. She looked surprised, shrugged, and headed for the door without another word.

This left Clary alone with Jace.
Alone with someone who was still looking at her as if she were his worst nightmare come to life.
Jace, she said, and took a step toward him.
He backed away from her as if she were coated in something poisonous. What, he said, in the name of the Angel, Clary, are you doing here?
Despite everything, the harshness of his tone hurt. You could at least pretend you were glad to see me.

Even a little bit.
Im not glad to see you, he said.
Some of his color had come back, but the shadows under his eyes were still gray smudges against his skin. Clary waited for him to say something else, but he seemed content just to stare at her in undisguised horror. She noticed with a distracted clarity that he was wearing a black sweater that hung off his wrists as if hed lost weight, and that the nails on his hands were bitten down to the quick. Not even a

little bit.
This isnt you, she said. I hate it when you act like this
Oh, you hate it, do you? Well, Id better stop doing it, then, hadnt I? I mean, you do everything I ask you to do.
You had no right to do what you did! she snapped at him, suddenly furious. Lying to me like that. You had no right
I had every right! he shouted. She didnt think hed ever shouted at her before. I had every right, you stupid,

stupid girl. I m your brother and I
And you what? You own me? You dont own me, whether youre my brother or not!
The door behind Clary flew open. It was Alec, soberly dressed in a long, dark blue jacket, his black hair in disarray. He wore muddy boots and an incredulous expression on his usually calm face. What in all possible dimensions is going on here? he said, looking from Jace to
Clary with amazement. Are you two trying to kill each other?

Not at all, said Jace. As if by magic, Clary saw, it had all been wiped away: his rage and his panic, and he was icy calm again. Clary was just leaving.
Good, Alec said, because I need to talk to you, Jace.
Doesnt anyone in this house ever say, Hi, nice to see you anymore?
Clary demanded of no one in particular. It was much easier to guilt Alec than Isabelle. It is good to see you,
Clary, he said, except of course for

the fact that youre really not supposed to be here. Isabelle told me you got here on your own somehow, and I m impressed
Could you not encourage her? Jace inquired. But I really, really need to talk to
Jace about something. Can you give us a few minutes?
I need to talk to him too, she said.
About our mother
I dont feel like talking, said Jace, to either of you, as a matter of fact.

Yes, you do, Alec said. You really want to talk to me about this.
I doubt that, Jace said. He had turned his gaze back to Clary. You didnt come here alone, did you? he said slowly, as if realizing that the situation was even worse than hed thought. Who came with you?
There seemed to be no point in lying about it. Luke, said Clary.
Luke came with me.
Jace blanched. But Luke is a
Downworlder. Do you know what the Clave does to unregistered

Downworlders who come into the
Glass Citywho cross the wards without permission? Coming to
Idris is one thing, but entering
Alicante? Without telling anyone?
No, Clary said, in a half whisper,
but I know what you re going to say
That if you and Luke don t go back to
New York immediately, youll find out? For a moment Jace was silent, meeting her eyes with his own. The desperation in his expression shocked her. He was the one

threatening her, after all, not the other way around.
Jace, Alec said into the silence, a tinge of panic creeping into his voice. Havent you wondered where
I ve been all day?
Thats a new coat youre wearing,
Jace said, without looking at his friend. I figure you went shopping.
Though why youre so eager to bother me about it, I have no idea.
I didnt go shopping, Alec said furiously. I went
The door opened again. In a flutter

of white dress, Isabelle darted in, shutting the door behind her. She looked at Clary and shook her head.
I told you hed freak out, she said.
Didn t I?
Ah, the I told you so, Jace said.
Always a classy move.
Clary looked at him with horror.
How can you joke? she whispered.
You just threatened Luke. Luke, who likes you and trusts you.
Because he s a Downworlder. What s wrong with you?
Isabelle looked horrified. Lukes

here? Oh, Clary
He s not here, Clary said. He leftthis morningand I dont know where he went. But I can certainly see now why he had to go. She could hardly bear to look at Jace. Fine. You win.
We should never have come. I should never have made that Portal
Made a Portal? Isabelle looked bewildered. Clary, only a warlock can make a Portal. And there arent very many of them. The only Portal here in Idris is in the Gard.
Which is what I had to talk to you

about, Alec hissed at Jacewho looked, Clary saw with surprise, even worse than he had before; he looked as if he were about to pass out. About the errand I went on last nightthe thing I had to deliver to the
Gard
Alec, stop. Stop, Jace said, and the harsh desperation in his voice cut the other boy off; Alec shut his mouth and stood staring at Jace, his lip caught between his teeth. But
Jace didnt seem to see him; he was looking at Clary, and his eyes were

hard as glass. Finally he spoke.
Youre right, he said in a choked voice, as if he had to force out the words. You should never have come. I know I told you its because it isnt safe for you here, but that wasnt true. The truth is that I dont want you here because youre rash and thoughtless and youll mess everything up. Its just how you are.
You re not careful, Clary.
Messeverythingup? Clary couldnt get enough air into her lungs for anything but a whisper.

Oh, Jace, Isabelle said sadly, as if he were the one who was hurt. He didnt look at her. His gaze was fixed on Clary.
You always just race ahead without thinking, he said. You know that,
Clary. Wed never have ended up in the Dumort if it wasn t for you.
And Simon would be dead! Doesnt that count for anything? Maybe it was rash, but
His voice rose. Maybe?
But its not like every decision Ive made was a bad one! You said,

after what I did on the boat, you said I d saved everyone s life
All the remaining color in Jaces face went. He said, with a sudden and astounding viciousness, Shut up, Clary, SHUT UP
On the boat? Alecs gaze danced between them, bewildered. What about what happened on the boat?
Jace
I just told you that to keep you from whining! Jace shouted, ignoring
Alec, ignoring everything but Clary.
She could feel the force of his

sudden anger like a wave threatening to knock her off her feet.
Youre a disaster for us, Clary!
Youre a mundane, youll always be one, youll never be a Shadowhunter. You dont know how to think like we do, think about whats best for everyoneall you ever think about is yourself! But theres a war on now, or there will be, and I dont have the time or the inclination to follow around after you, trying to make sure you dont get one of us killed! She just stared at him. She couldnt think of a thing to say; hed never spoken to her like this. Shed never even imagined him speaking to her like this. However angry shed managed to make him in the past, hed never spoken to her as if he hated her before.
Go home, Clary, he said. He sounded very tired, as if the effort of telling her how he really felt had drained him. Go home.
All her plans evaporatedher halfformed hopes of rushing after Fell,

saving her mother, even finding
Lukenothing mattered, no words came. She crossed to the door. Alec and Isabelle moved to let her pass.
Neither of them would look at her; they looked away instead, their expressions shocked and embarrassed. Clary knew she probably ought to feel humiliated as well as angry, but she didnt. She just felt dead inside.
She turned at the door and looked back. Jace was staring after her.
The light that streamed through the

window behind him left his face in shadow; all she could see was the bright bits of sunshine that dusted his fair hair, like shards of broken glass. When you told me the first time that
Valentine was your father, I didnt believe it, she said. Not just because I didnt want it to be true, but because you werent anything like him. Ive never thought you were anything like him. But you are.
You are.
She went out of the room, shutting

the door behind her.

Theyre going to starve me, Simon said. He was lying on the floor of his cell, the stone cold under his back.
From this angle, though, he could see the sky through the window. In the days after Simon had first become a vampire, when he had thought he would never see daylight

again, hed found himself thinking incessantly about the sun and the sky. About the ways the color of the sky changed during the day: about the pale sky of morning, the hot blue of midday, and the cobalt darkness of twilight. Hed lain awake in the darkness with a parade of blues marching through his brain. Now, flat on his back in the cell under the
Gard, he wondered if hed had daylight and all its blues restored to him just so that he could spend the short, unpleasant rest of his life in

this tiny space with only a patch of sky visible through the single barred window in the wall.
Did you hear what I said? He raised his voice. The Inquisitors going to starve me to death. No more blood.
There was a rustling noise. An audible sigh. Then Samuel spoke. I heard you. I just dont know what you want me to do about it. He paused. Im sorry for you,
Daylighter, if that helps.
It doesnt really, Simon said. The
Inquisitor wants me to lie. Wants

me to tell him that the Lightwoods are in league with Valentine. Then hell send me home. He rolled over onto his stomach, the stones jabbing into his skin. Never mind. I dont know why Im telling you all this.
You probably have no idea what Im talking about.
Samuel made a noise halfway between a chuckle and a cough.
Actually, I do. I knew the
Lightwoods. We were in the Circle together. The Lightwoods, the
Waylands, the Pangborns, the

Herondales, the Penhallows. All the fine families of Alicante.
And Hodge Starkweather, Simon said, thinking of the Lightwoods tutor. He was too, wasn t he?
He was, said Samuel. But his family was hardly a well- respected one.
Hodge showed some promise once, but I fear he never lived up to it. He paused. Aldertrees always hated the
Lightwoods, of course, since we were children. He wasnt rich or clever or attractive, and, well, they werent very kind to him. I dont think

he s ever gotten over it.
Rich? Simon said. I thought all
Shadowhunters got paid by the
Clave.
LikeI dont know, communism or something.
In theory all Shadowhunters are fairly and equally paid, said
Samuel. Some, like those with high positions in the Clave, or those with great responsibilityrunning an Institute, for examplereceive a higher salary. Then there are those who live outside Idris and choose to make money in the mundane

world; its not forbidden, as long as they tithe a part of it to the Clave.
ButSamuel hesitatedyou saw the
Penhallows house, didnt you? What did you think of it?
Simon cast his mind back. Very fancy. Its one of the finest houses in
Alicante, said Samuel. And they have another house, a manor out in the country. Almost all the rich families do. You see, theres another way for Nephilim to gain wealth.
They call it spoils. Anything owned

by a demon or Downworlder who is killed by a Shadowhunter becomes that
Shadowhunters
property. So if a wealthy warlock breaks the Law, and is killed by a
Nephilim
Simon shivered.
So
killing
Downworlders is a lucrative business? It can be, said Samuel bitterly, if youre not too choosy about who you kill. You can see why theres so much opposition to the Accords. It cuts into peoples pocketbooks,

having to be careful about murdering Downworlders. Perhaps thats why I joined the Circle. My family was never a rich one, and to be looked down on for not accepting blood money He broke off. But the Circle murdered Downworlders too, said Simon.
Because they thought it was their sacred duty, said Samuel. Not out of greed. Though I cant imagine now why I ever thought that mattered. He sounded exhausted.
It
was

Valentine. He had a way about him.
He could convince you of anything.
I remember standing beside him with my hands covered in blood, looking down at the body of a dead woman, and thinking only that what
I was doing had to be right, because
Valentine said it was so.
A dead Downworlder?
Samuel breathed raggedly on the other side of the wall. At last, he said, You must understand, I would have done anything he asked. Any of us would have. The Lightwoods as

well. The Inquisitor knows that, and that is what he is trying to exploit.
But you should knowtheres the chance that if you give in to him and throw blame on the Lightwoods, hell kill you anyway to shut you up.
It depends on whether the idea of being merciful makes him feel powerful at the time.
It doesnt matter, Simon said. Im not going to do it. I wont betray the
Lightwoods.
Really?
Samuel
sounded unconvinced. Is there some reason

why not? Do you care for the
Lightwoods that much?
Anything I told him about them would be a lie.
But it might be the lie he wants to hear. You do want to go home, dont you? Simon stared at the wall as if he could somehow see through it to the man on the other side. Is that what you d do? Lie to him?
Samuel cougheda wheezy sort of cough, as if he werent very healthy.
Then again, it was damp and cold

down here, which didnt bother
Simon, but would probably bother a normal human being very much. I wouldnt take moral advice from me, he said. But yes, I probably would.
Ive always put saving my own skin first. I m sure that s not true.
Actually, said Samuel, it is. One thing youll learn as you get older,
Simon, is that when people tell you something unpleasant about themselves, it s usually true.
But Im not going to get older,

Simon thought. Out loud he said,
Thats the first time youve called me
Simon. Simon and not Daylighter.
I suppose it is.
And as for the Lightwoods, Simon said, its not that I like them that much. I mean, I like Isabelle, and I sort of like Alec and Jace, too. But theres this girl. And Jace is her brother. When Samuel replied, he sounded, for the first time, genuinely amused.
Isn t there always a girl.

The moment the door shut behind
Clary, Jace slumped back against the wall, as if his legs had been cut out from under him. He looked gray with a mixture of horror, shock, and what looked almost likerelief, as if a catastrophe had been narrowly avoided. Jace, Alec said, taking a step toward his friend. Do you really think Jace spoke in a low voice, cutting
Alec off. Get out, he said. Just get out, both of you.
So you can do what? Isabelle demanded. Wreck your life some more? What the hell was that about? Jace shook his head. I sent her home. It was the best thing for her.
You did a hell of a lot more than send her home. You destroyed her.
Did you see her face?
It was worth it, said Jace. You wouldn t understand.

For her, maybe, Isabelle said. I hope it winds up worth it for you.
Jace turned his face away. Justleave me alone, Isabelle. Please.
Isabelle cast a startled look toward her brother. Jace never said please.
Alec put a hand on her shoulder.
Never mind, Jace, he said, as kindly as he could. I m sure she ll be fine.
Jace raised his head and looked at
Alec without actually looking at himhe seemed to be staring off at nothing. No, she wont, he said. But I knew that. Speaking of which, you

might as well tell me what you came in here to tell me. You seemed to think it was pretty important at the time.
Alec took his hand off Isabelles shoulder. I didnt want to tell you in front of Clary
Jaces eyes finally focused on Alec.
Didnt want to tell me what in front of Clary?
Alec hesitated. Hed rarely seen
Jace so upset, and he could only imagine what effect further unpleasant surprises might have on

him. But there was no way to hide this. Jace had to know. Yesterday, he said, in a low voice, when I brought Simon up to the Gard,
Malachi told me Magnus Bane would be meeting Simon at the other end of the Portal, in New
York. So I sent a fire-message to
Magnus. I heard back from him this morning. He never met Simon in
New York. In fact, he says theres been no Portal activity in New York since Clary came through.
Maybe Malachi was wrong,

Isabelle suggested, after a quick look at Jaces ashen face. Maybe someone else met Simon on the other side. And Magnus could be wrong about the Portal activity
Alec shook his head. I went up to the Gard this morning with Mom. I meant to ask Malachi about it myself, but when I saw himI cant say whyI ducked behind a corner. I couldnt face him. Then I heard him talking to one of the guards. Telling them to go bring the vampire upstairs because the Inquisitor

wanted to speak to him again.
Are you sure they meant Simon?
Isabelle asked, but there was no conviction in her voice. Maybe
They were talking about how stupid the Downworlder had been to believe that theyd just send him back to New York without questioning him. One of them said that he couldnt believe anyone had had the gall to try to sneak him into
Alicante to begin with. And
Malachi said, Well, what do you expect from Valentine s son?

Oh, Isabelle whispered. Oh my
God. She glanced across the room.
Jace
Jaces hands were clenched at his sides. His eyes looked sunken, as if they were pushing back into his skull. In other circumstances Alec would have put a hand on his shoulder, but not now; something about Jace made him hold back. If it hadnt been me who brought him through, Jace said in a low, measured voice, as if he were reciting something, maybe they

would have just let him go home.
Maybe they would have believed
No, Alec said. No, Jace, its not your fault. You saved his life.
Saved him so the Clave could torture him, said Jace. Some favor.
When Clary finds out He shook his head blindly. Shell think I brought him here on purpose, gave him to the Clave knowing what they d do.
She wont think that. Youd have no reason to do a thing like that.
Perhaps, Jace said, slowly, but after how I just treated her

No one could ever think youd do that, Jace, said Isabelle. No one who knows you. No one
But Jace didnt wait to find out what else no one would ever think.
Instead he turned around and walked over to the picture window that looked over the canal. He stood there for a moment, the light coming through the window turning the edges of his hair to gold. Then he moved, so quickly Alec didnt have to time to react. By the time he saw what was going to happen and

darted forward to prevent it, it was already too late.
There was a crashthe sound of shatteringand a sudden spray of broken glass like a shower of jagged stars. Jace looked down at his left hand, the knuckles streaked with scarlet, with a clinical interest as fat red drops of blood collected and splattered down onto the floor at his feet.
Isabelle stared from Jace to the hole in the glass, lines radiating out from the empty center, a spiderweb of

thin silver cracks. Oh, Jace, she said, her voice as soft as Alec had ever heard it. How on earth are we going to explain this to the
Penhallows?

Somehow Clary made it out of the house. She wasnt sure howeverything was a fast blur of stairs and hallways, and then she was running to the front door and

out of it and somehow she was on the Penhallows front steps, trying to decide whether or not she was going to throw up in their rosebushes. They were ideally placed for throwing up in, and her stomach was roiling painfully, but the fact that all shed eaten was some soup was catching up with her. She didnt think there was anything in her stomach to throw up. Instead she made her way down the steps and turned blindly out of the front

gateshe couldnt remember which direction shed come from anymore, or how to get back to Amatiss, but it didnt seem to matter much. It wasnt as if she were looking forward to getting back and explaining to Luke that they had to leave Alicante or
Jace would turn them in to the
Clave.
Maybe Jace was right. Maybe she was rash and thoughtless. Maybe she never thought about how what she did impacted the people she loved. Simons face flashed across

her vision, sharp as a photograph, and then Luke s
She stopped and leaned against a lamppost. The square glass fixture looked like the sort of gas lamp that topped the vintage posts in front of the brownstones in Park Slope.
Somehow it seemed reassuring.
Clary! It was a boys voice, anxious.
Immediately Clary thought, Jace.
She spun around.
It wasnt Jace. Sebastian, the darkhaired boy from the Penhallows living room, stood in front of her,

panting a little as if hed chased her down the street at a run.
She felt a burst of the same feeling shed had earlier, when shed first seen himrecognition, mixed with something she couldnt identify. It wasnt like or dislikeit was a sort of pull, as if something drew her toward this boy she didnt know.
Maybe it was just the way he looked. He was beautiful, as beautiful as Jace, though where Jace was all gold, this boy was pallor and shadows. Although now, under

the lamplight, she could see that his resemblance to her imaginary prince was not as exact as shed thought. Even their coloring was different. It was just something in the shape of his face, the way he held himself, the dark secretiveness of his eyes
Are you okay? he said. His voice was soft. You ran out of the house like His voice trailed off as he looked at her. She was still gripping the lamppost as if she needed it to hold her up. What happened?

I had a fight with Jace, she said, trying to keep her voice even. You know how it is.
I dont, actually. He sounded almost apologetic. I dont have any sisters or brothers.
Lucky, she said, and was startled at the bitterness in her own voice.
You dont mean that. He took a step closer to her, and as he did, the streetlamp flickered on, casting a pool of white witchlight over them both. Sebastian looked up at the light and smiled. It s a sign.

A sign of what?
A sign that you should let me walk you home.
But I have no idea where that is, she said, realizing. I snuck out of the house to come here. I dont remember the way I came.
Well, who are you staying with?
She hesitated before replying.
I wont tell anyone, he said. I swear on the Angel.
She stared. That was quite an oath, for a Shadowhunter. All right, she said, before she could overthink her

decision. Im staying with Amatis
Herondale.
Great. I know exactly where she lives. He offered her his arm. Shall we? She managed a smile. Youre kind of pushy, you know.
He shrugged. I have a fetish for damsels in distress.
Don t be sexist.
Not at all. My services are also available to gentlemen in distress.
Its an equal opportunity fetish, he said, and, with a flourish, offered

his arm again.
This time, she took it.

Alec shut the door of the small attic room behind him and turned to face
Jace. His eyes were normally the color of Lake Lyn, a pale, untroubled blue, but the color tended to change with his moods. At the moment they were the color of the East
River
during a thunderstorm. His expression was stormy as well. Sit, he said to Jace, pointing at a low chair near the gabled window. Ill get the bandages. Jace sat. The room he shared with
Alec at the top of the Penhallows house was small, with two narrow beds in it, one against each wall.
Their clothes hung from a row of pegs on the wall. There was a single window, letting in faint lightit was getting dark now, and the sky outside the glass was indigo

blue. Jace watched as Alec knelt to grab the duffel bag from under his bed and yank it open. He rummaged noisily among the contents before getting to his feet with a box in his hands. Jace recognized it as the box of medical supplies they used sometimes when runes werent an optionantiseptic, bandages, scissors, and gauze.
Arent you going to use a healing rune? Jace asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
No. You can just Alec broke off,

flinging the box onto the bed with an inaudible curse. He went to the small sink against the wall and washed his hands with such force that water splashed upward in a fine spray. Jace watched him with a distant curiosity. His hand had begun to burn with a dull and fiery ache. Alec retrieved the box, pulled a chair up opposite Jaces, and flung himself down onto it. Give me your hand. Jace held his hand out. He had to

admit it looked pretty bad. All four knuckles were split open like red starbursts. Dried blood clung to his fingers, a flaking red-brown glove.
Alec made a face. You re an idiot.
Thanks, Jace said. He watched patiently as Alec bent over his hand with a pair of tweezers and gently nudged at a bit of glass embedded in his skin. So, why not?
Why not what?
Why not use a healing rune? This isn t a demon injury.
Because. Alec retrieved the blue

bottle of antiseptic. I think it would do you good to feel the pain. You can heal like a mundane. Slow and ugly. Maybe youll learn something.
He splashed the stinging liquid over
Jace s cuts. Although I doubt it.
I can always do my own healing rune, you know.
Alec began wrapping a strip of bandages around Jaces hand. Only if you want me to tell the
Penhallows what really happened to their window, instead of letting them think it was an accident. He

jerked a knot in the bandages tight, making Jace wince. You know, if Id thought you were going to do this to yourself, I would never have told you anything.
Yes, you would have. Jace cocked his head to the side. I didnt realize my attack on the picture window would upset you quite so much.
Its just Done with the bandaging,
Alec looked down at Jaces hand, the hand he was still holding between his. It was a white club of bandages, spotted with blood where

Alecs fingers had touched it. Why do you do these things to yourself?
Not just what you did to the window, but the way you talked to
Clary. What are you punishing yourself for? You cant help how you feel.
Jaces voice was even. How do I feel? I see how you look at her. Alecs eyes were remote, seeing something just past Jace, something that wasnt there. And you cant have her.
Maybe you just never knew what it

was like to want something you couldn t have before.
Jace looked at him steadily. Whats between you and Magnus Bane?
Alecs head jerked back. I don t there s nothing
Im not stupid. You went right to
Magnus after you talked to Malachi, before you talked to me or Isabelle or anyone
Because he was the only one who could answer my question, thats why. There isnt anything between us, Alec saidand then, catching the

look on Jaces face, added with great reluctance, anymore. Theres nothing between us anymore. Okay?
I hope thats not because of me, said
Jace.
Alec went white and drew back, as if he were preparing to ward off a blow. What do you mean?
I know how you think you feel about me, Jace said. You dont, though.
You just like me because Im safe.
Theres no risk. And then you never have to try to have a real relationship, because you can use

me as an excuse. Jace knew he was being cruel, and he barely cared.
Hurting people he loved was almost as good as hurting himself when he was in this kind of mood.
I get it, Alec said tightly. First
Clary, then your hand, now me. To hell with you, Jace.
You dont believe me? Jace asked.
Fine. Go ahead. Kiss me right now.
Alec stared at him in horror.
Exactly. Despite my staggering good looks, you actually dont like me that way. And if youre blowing

off Magnus, its not because of me.
Its because youre too scared to tell anyone who you really love. Love makes us liars, said Jace. The
Seelie Queen told me that. So dont judge me for lying about how I feel.
You do it too. He stood up. And now I want you to do it again.
Alecs face was stiff with hurt. What do you mean?
Lie for me, Jace said, taking his jacket down from the wall peg and shrugging it on. Its sunset. Theyll start coming back from the Gard

about now. I want you to tell everyone Im not feeling well and thats why Im not coming downstairs. Tell them I felt faint and tripped, and thats how the window got broken.
Alec tipped his head back and looked up at Jace squarely. Fine, he said. If you tell me where youre really going.
Up to the Gard, said Jace. Im going to break Simon out of jail.

Clarys mother had always called the time of day between twilight and nightfall the blue hour. She said the light was strongest and most unusual then, and that it was the best time to paint. Clary had never really understood what she meant, but now, making her way through
Alicante at twilight, she did.
The blue hour in New York wasnt really blue; it was too washed out by streetlights and neon signs.

Jocelyn must have been thinking of
Idris. Here the light fell in swatches of pure violet across the golden stonework of the city, and the witchlight lamps cast circular pools of white light so bright Clary expected to feel heat when she walked through them. She wished her mother were with her. Jocelyn could have pointed out the parts of
Alicante that were familiar to her, that had a place in her memories.
But shed never tell you any of those things. She kept them secret

from you on purpose. And now you may never know them. A sharp painhalf anger and half regretcaught at Clary s heart.
Youre awfully quiet, Sebastian said. They were passing over a canal bridge, its stonework sides carved with runes.
Just wondering how much trouble
Ill be in when I get back. I had to climb out a window to leave, but
Amatis has probably noticed Im gone by now.
Sebastian frowned. Why sneak out?

Wouldnt you be allowed to go see your brother?
Im not supposed to be in Alicante at all, Clary said. Im supposed to be home, watching safely from the sidelines. Ah. That explains a lot.
Does it? She cast a curious sideways glance at him. Blue shadows were caught in his dark hair. Everyone seemed to blanch when your name came up earlier. I gathered there was some bad blood

between your brother and you.
Bad blood? Well, thats one way to put it.
You don t like him much?
Like Jace? Shed given so much thought these past weeks as to whether she loved Jace Wayland and how, that shed never much paused to consider whether she liked him.
Sorry. Hes familyits not really about whether you like him or not.
I do like him, she said, surprising herself. I do, its justhe makes me

furious. He tells me what I can and can t do
Doesnt seem to work very well,
Sebastian observed.
What do you mean?
You seem to do what you want anyway. I suppose. The observation startled her, coming from a near stranger.
But it seems to have made him a lot angrier than I thought it had.
Hell get over it. Sebastians tone was dismissive.
Clary looked at him curiously. Do

you like him?
I like him. But I dont think he likes me much. Sebastian sounded rueful.
Everything I say seems to piss him off. They turned off the street into a wide cobble-paved square ringed with tall, narrow buildings. At the center was the bronze statue of an angel the Angel, the one whod given h i s blood to make the race of
Shadowhunters. At the northern end of the square was a massive structure of white stone. A waterfall

of wide marble steps led up to a pillared arcade, behind which was a pair of huge double doors. The overall effect in the evening light was stunningand weirdly familiar.
Clary wondered if shed seen a picture of this place before. Maybe her mother had painted one?
This is Angel Square, Sebastian said, and that was the Great Hall of the Angel. The Accords were first signed there, since Downworlders arent allowed into the Gardnow its called the Accords Hall. Its a

central meeting placecelebrations take place there, marriages, dances, that sort of thing. It s the center of the city. They say all roads lead to the
Hall.
It looks a bit like a churchbut you don t have churches here, do you?
No need, said Sebastian. The demon towers keep us safe. We need nothing else. Thats why I like coming here. It feels peaceful.
Clary looked at him in surprise. So you don t live here?
No. I live in Paris. Im just visiting

Alineshes my cousin. My mother and her father, my uncle Patrick, were brother and sister. Alines parents ran the Institute in Beijing for years. They moved back to
Alicante about a decade ago.
Were theythe Penhallows werent in the Circle, were they?
A startled look flashed across
Sebastians face. He was silent as they turned and left the square behind them, making their way into a warren of dark streets. Why would you ask that? he said finally.

Well because the Lightwoods were.
They passed under a streetlight.
Clary
glanced sideways at
Sebastian. In his long dark coat and white shirt, under the pool of white light, he looked like a black-andwhite illustration of a gentleman from a Victorian scrapbook. His dark hair curled close against his temples in a way that made her itch to draw him in pen and ink. You have to understand, he said. A good half of the young Shadowhunters in
Idris were part of the Circle, and

plenty of those who werent in Idris too. Uncle Patrick was in the early days, but he got out of the Circle once he started to realize how serious Valentine was. Neither of
Alines parents was part of the
Uprisingmy uncle went to Beijing to get away from Valentine and met
Alines mother at the Institute there.
When the Lightwoods and the other
Circle members were tried for treason against the Clave, the
Penhallows voted for leniency. Got them sent away to New York

instead of cursed. So the
Lightwoods have always been grateful. What about your parents? Clary said. Were they in it?
Not really. My mother was younger than Patrickhe sent her to Paris when he went to Beijing. She met my father there.
Your mother was younger than
Patrick?
Shes dead, said Sebastian. My father, too. My aunt Élodie brought me up.

Oh, Clary said, feeling stupid. Im sorry. I dont remember them, Sebastian said. Not really. When I was younger, I wished I had an older sister or a brother, someone who could tell me what it was like having them as parents. He looked at her thoughtfully. Can I ask you something, Clary? Why did you come to Idris at all when you knew how badly your brother would take it? Before she could answer him, they

emerged from the narrow alley theyd been following into a familiar unlit courtyard, the disused well at its center gleaming in the moonlight.
Cistern Square, Sebastian said, an unmistakable note of disappointment in his voice. We got here faster than I thought we would.
Clary glanced over the masonry bridge that spanned the nearby canal. She could see Amatiss house in the distance. All the windows were lit. She sighed. I can get back myself from here, thanks.

You dont want me to walk you to the No. Not unless you want to get in trouble too.
You think I d get in trouble? For being gentlemanly enough to walk you home?
No ones supposed to know Im in
Alicante, she said. Its supposed to be a secret. And no offense, but you re a stranger.
Id like to not be, he said. Id like to get to know you better. He was looking at her with a mixture of

amusement and a certain shyness, as if he werent sure how what hed just said would be received.
Sebastian, she said, with a sudden feeling of overwhelming tiredness.
Im glad you want to get to know me.
But I just dont have the energy to get to know you. Sorry.
I didn t mean
But she was already walking away from him, toward the bridge.
Halfway there she turned around and glanced back at Sebastian. He was looking oddly forlorn in a

patch of moonlight, his dark hair falling over his face.
Ragnor Fell, she said.
He stared at her. What?
You asked me why I came here even though I wasnt supposed to,
Clary said. My mother is sick.
Really sick. Maybe dying. The only thing that can help her, the only person who can help her, is a warlock named Ragnor Fell. Only I have no idea where to find him.
Clary
She turned back toward the house.

Good night, Sebastian.

It was harder climbing up the trellis than it had been climbing down.
Clarys boots slipped a number of times on the damp stone wall, and she was relieved when she finally hauled herself up over the sill of the window and half-jumped, half-fell into the bedroom.
Her euphoria was short-lived. No

sooner had her boots hit the floor than a bright light flared up, a soft explosion that lit the room to a daylight brightness.
Amatis was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back very straight, a witchlight stone in her hand. It burned with a harsh light that did nothing to soften the hard planes of her face or the lines at the corners of her mouth. She stared at Clary in silence for several long moments.
Finally she said, In those clothes, you look just like Jocelyn.

Clary scrambled to her feet. IIm sorry, she said. About going out like that Amatis closed her hand around the witchlight, snuffing its glow. Clary blinked in the sudden dimness.
Change out of that gear, Amatis said, and meet me downstairs in the kitchen. And dont even think about sneaking back out through the window, she added, or the next time you return to this house, youll find it sealed against you.
Swallowing hard, Clary nodded.

Amatis rose to her feet and left without another word. Quickly
Clary shucked off her gear and dressed in her own clothes, which hung over the bedpost, now dryher jeans were a little stiff, but it was nice to pull on her familiar T-shirt.
Shaking her tangled hair back, she headed downstairs.
The last time shed seen the lower floor of Amatiss house, shed been delirious and hallucinating. She remembered long corridors stretching out to infinity and a huge

grandfather clock whose ticks had sounded like the beats of a dying heart. Now she found herself in a small, homely living room, with plain wooden furniture and a rag rug on the floor. The small size and bright colors reminded her a little of her own living room at home in
Brooklyn. She crossed through in silence and entered the kitchen, where a fire burned in the grate and the room was full of warm yellow light. Amatis was sitting at the table. She had a blue shawl

wrapped around her shoulders; it made her hair seem more gray.
Hi. Clary hovered in the doorway.
She couldn t tell if Amatis was angry or not.
I suppose I hardly need to ask where you went, Amatis said, without looking up from the table.
You went to see Jonathan, didnt you? I suppose it was only to be expected. Perhaps if Id ever had children of my own, Id know when a child was lying to me. But I had so hoped that, this time at least, I

wouldnt completely disappoint my brother. Disappoint Luke?
You know what happened when he was bitten? Amatis stared straight in front of her. When my brother was bitten by a werewolfand of course he was, Valentine was always taking stupid risks with himself and his followers, it was just a matter of timehe came and told me what had happened and how scared he was that he might have contracted the lycanthropic

disease. And I said I said
Amatis, you dont have to tell me this I told him to get out of my house and not to come back until he was sure he didnt have it. I cringed away from himI couldnt help it. Her voice shook. He could see how disgusted
I was, it was all over my face. He said he was afraid that if he did have it, if hed become a werecreature, that Valentine would ask him to kill himself, and I saidI said that maybe that would be the best

thing.
Clary gave a little gasp; she couldnt help it.
Amatis looked up quickly. Selfloathing was written all over her face. Luke was always so basically good, whatever Valentine tried to get him to dosometimes I thought he and Jocelyn were the only really good people I knewand I couldnt stand the idea of him being turned into some monster .
But hes not like that. Hes not a monster. I didnt know. After he did Change, after he fled from here, Jocelyn worked and worked to convince me that he was still the same person inside, still my brother. If it hadnt been for her, I never would have agreed to see him again. I let him stay here when he came before the
Uprisinglet him hide in the cellarbut
I could tell he didnt really trust me, not after Id turned my back on him. I think he still doesn t.
He trusted you enough to come to you when I was sick, Clary said. He

trusted you enough to leave me here with you
He had nowhere else to go, said
Amatis. And look how well Ive fared with you. I couldnt even keep you in the house for a single day.
Clary flinched. This was worse than being yelled at. Its not your fault. I lied to you and sneaked out. There wasnt anything you could have done about it.
Oh, Clary, Amatis said. Dont you see? Theres always something you can do. Its just people like me who

always tell themselves otherwise. I told myself there was nothing I could do about Luke. I told myself there was nothing I could do about
Stephen leaving me. And I refuse even to attend the Claves meetings because I tell myself theres nothing
I can do to influence their decisions, even when I hate what they do. But then when I do choose to do somethingwell, I cant even do that one thing right. Her eyes shone, hard and bright in the firelight. Go to bed, Clary, she finished. And

from now on, you can come and go as you please. I wont do anything to stop you. After all, like you said, there s nothing I can do.
Amatis
Dont. Amatis shook her head. Just go to bed. Please. Her voice held a note of finality; she turned away, as if Clary were already gone, and stared at the wall, unblinking.
Clary spun on her heel and ran up the stairs. In the spare room she kicked the door shut behind her and flung herself down onto the bed.

Shed thought she wanted to cry, but the tears wouldnt come. Jace hates me, she thought. Amatis hates me. I never got to say good-bye to
Simon. My mothers dying. And
Luke has abandoned me. Im alone.
Ive never been so alone, and its all my own fault. Maybe that was why she couldnt cry, she realized, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling.
Because what was the point in crying when there was no one there to comfort you? And what was worse, when you couldnt even

comfort yourself?

7

WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO
TREAD

Out of a dream of blood and sunlight, Simon woke suddenly to the sound of a voice calling his name. Simon. The voice was a hissing whisper. Simon, get up.
Simon was on his feetsometimes how fast he could move now surprised even himand spinning around in the darkness of the cell.
Samuel? he whispered, staring into the shadows. Samuel, was that you?
Turn around, Simon. Now the voice, faintly familiar, held a note of irritability. And come to the window. Simon knew immediately who it was and looked through the barred window to see Jace kneeling

on the grass outside, a witchlight stone in his hand. He was looking at
Simon with a strained scowl. What, did you think you were having a nightmare? Maybe I still am. There was a buzzing in Simons earsif hed had a heartbeat, he would have thought it was the blood rushing through his veins, but it was something else, something less corporeal but more proximate than blood.
The witchlight threw a crazy-quilt pattern of light and shadow across

Jaces pale face. So heres where they put you. I didnt think they even used these cells anymore. He glanced sideways. I got the wrong window at first. Gave your friend in the next cell something of a shock.
Attractive fellow, what with the beard and the rags. Kind of reminds me of the street folk back home.
And Simon realized what the buzzing sound in his ears was.
Rage. In some distant corner of his mind he was aware that his lips were drawn back, the tips of his

fangs grazing his lower lip. Im glad you think all this is funny.
Youre not happy to see me, then?
Jace said. I have to say, Im surprised. Ive always been told my presence brightened up any room.
One might think that went doubly for dank underground cells.
You knew what would happen, didnt you? Theyll send you right back to New York, you said. No problem. But they never had any intention of doing that.
I didnt know. Jace met his eyes

through the bars, and his gaze was clear and steady. I know you wont believe me, but I thought I was telling you the truth.
You re either lying or stupid
Then I m stupid. or both, Simon finished. Im inclined to think both.
I dont have a reason to lie to you.
Not now. Jaces gaze remained steady. And quit baring your fangs at me. It s making me nervous.
Good, Simon said. If you want to know why, its because you smell

like blood.
Its my cologne. Eau de Recent
Injury. Jace raised his left hand. It was a glove of white bandages, stained across the knuckles where blood had seeped through.
Simon frowned. I thought your kind didnt get injuries. Not ones that lasted. I put it through a window, Jace said, and Alecs making me heal like a mundane to teach me a lesson.
There, I told you the truth.
Impressed?

No, Simon said. I have bigger problems than you. The Inquisitor keeps asking me questions I cant answer. He keeps accusing me of getting my Daylighter powers from
Valentine. Of being a spy for him.
Alarm flickered in Jaces eyes.
Aldertree said that?
Aldertree implied the whole Clave thought so.
Thats bad. If they decide youre a spy, then the Accords dont apply.
Not if they can convince themselves youve broken the Law. Jace glanced

around quickly before returning his gaze to Simon. Wed better get you out of here.
And then what? Simon almost couldnt believe what he was saying.
He wanted to get out of this place so badly he could taste it, yet he couldnt stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. Where do you plan on hiding me?
Theres a Portal here in the Gard. If we can find it, I can send you back through And everyone will know you

helped me. Jace, its not just me the
Clave is after. In fact, I doubt they care about one Downworlder at all one way or the other. Theyre trying to prove something about your familyabout the Lightwoods. Theyre trying to prove that they re connected with Valentine somehow. That they never really left the Circle.
Even in the darkness, it was possible to see the color rush into
Jaces cheeks. But thats ridiculous.
They fought Valentineon the ship Robert nearly died

The Inquisitor wants to believe that they sacrificed the other Nephilim who fought on the boat to preserve the illusion that they were against
Valentine. But they still lost the
Mortal Sword, and thats what he cares about. Look, you tried to warn the Clave, and they didnt care. Now the Inquisitor is looking for someone to blame everything on. If he can brand your family as traitors, then no one will blame the Clave for what happened, and hell be able to make whatever policies he wants

to without opposition.
Jace put his face in his hands, his long fingers tugging distractedly at his hair. But I cant just leave you here. If Clary finds out
I should have known thats what you were worried about. Simon laughed harshly. So dont tell her. Shes in
New York, anyway, thank He broke off, unable to say the word. You were right, he said instead. Im glad she s not here.
Jace lifted his head out of his hands.
What?

The Clave is insane. Who knows what theyd do to her if they knew what she could do. You were right,
Simon repeated, and when Jace said nothing in reply, added, And you might as well enjoy that I just said that to you. I probably wont ever say it again.
Jace stared at him, his face blank, and Simon was reminded with an unpleasant jolt of the way Jace had looked on the ship, bloody and dying on the metal floor. Finally,
Jace spoke. So youre telling me you

plan to stay here? In prison? Until when? Until we think of a better idea, said
Simon. But there is one thing.
Jace raised his eyebrows. Whats that? Blood, said Simon. The Inquisitors trying to starve me into talking. I already feel pretty weak. By tomorrow Ill bewell, I dont know how Ill be. But I dont want to give in to him. And I won t drink your blood again, or anyone elses, he added quickly, before Jace could

offer. Animal blood will do.
Blood I can get you, Jace said. He hesitated. Did youtell the Inquisitor that I let you drink my blood? That I saved you?
Simon shook his head.
Jaces eyes shone with reflected light. Why not?
I suppose I didnt want to get you into more trouble.
Look, vampire, Jace said. Protect the Lightwoods if you can. But dont protect me.
Simon raised his head. Why not?

I suppose, said Jaceand for a moment, as he looked down through the bars, Simon could almost imagine that he was outside, and
Jace was the one inside the cell because I don t deserve it.

Clary woke to a sound like hailstones on a metal roof. She sat up in bed, staring around groggily.
The sound came again, a sharp

rattle-thump emanating from the window. Peeling her blanket back reluctantly, she went to investigate.
Throwing the window open let in a blast of cold air that cut through her pajamas like a knife. She shivered and leaned out over the sill.
Someone was standing in the garden below, and for a moment, with a leap of her heart, all she saw was that the figure was slender and tall, with boyish, rumpled hair. Then he raised his face and she saw that the hair was dark, not fair, and she

realized that for the second time, shed hoped for Jace and gotten
Sebastian instead.
He was holding a handful of pebbles in one hand. He smiled when he saw her poke her head out, and gestured at himself and then at the rose trellis. Climb downstairs.
She shook her head and pointed toward the front of the house. Meet me at the front door. Shutting the window, she hurried downstairs. It was late morningthe light pouring in through the windows was srong and

golden, but the lights were all off and the house was quiet. Amatis must still be asleep, she thought.
Clary went to the front door, unbolted it, and threw it open.
Sebastian was there, standing on the front step, and once again she had that feeling, that strange burst of recognition, though it was fainter this time. She smiled weakly at him.
You threw stones at my window, she said. I thought people only did that in movies.
He grinned. Nice pajamas. Did I

wake you up?
Maybe.
Sorry, he said, though he didnt seem sorry. But this couldnt wait. You might want to run upstairs and get dressed, by the way. Well be spending the day together.
Wow. Confident, arent you? she said, but then boys who looked like
Sebastian probably had no reason to be anything but confident. She shook her head. Im sorry, but I cant. I cant leave the house. Not today.
A faint line of concern appeared

between his eyes. You left the house yesterday. I know, but that was before Before
Amatis made me feel about two inches tall. I just cant. And please don t try to argue me out of it, okay?
Okay, he said. I wont argue. But at least let me tell you what I came here to tell you. Then, I promise, if you still want me to go, I ll go.
What is it?
He raised his face, and she wondered how it was possible that dark eyes could glow just like

golden ones. I know where you can find Ragnor Fell.

It took Clary less than ten minutes to run upstairs, throw on her clothes, scribble a hasty note to Amatis, and rejoin Sebastian, who was waiting for her at the edge of the canal. He grinned as she ran to meet him, breathless, her green coat flung over one arm. Im here, she said, skidding

to a stop. Can we go now?
Sebastian insisted on helping her on with the coat. I dont think anyones ever helped me with my coat before, Clary observed, freeing the hair that had gotten trapped under her collar. Well, maybe waiters.
Were you ever a waiter?
No, but I was brought up by a
Frenchwoman, Sebastian reminded her. It involves an even more rigorous course of training.
Clary
smiled, despite her nervousness. Sebastian was good at

making her smile, she realized with a faint sense of surprise. Almost too good at it. Where are we going? she asked abruptly. Is Fells house near here? He lives outside the city, actually, said Sebastian, starting toward the bridge. Clary fell into step beside him. Is it a long walk?
Too long to walk. Were going to get a ride.
A ride? From who? She came to a dead stop. Sebastian, we have to be

careful. We cant trust just anyone with the information about what were doingwhat I m doing. Its a secret. Sebastian regarded her with thoughtful dark eyes. I swear on the
Angel that the friend well be getting a ride from wont breathe a word to anyone about what we re doing.
You re sure?
I m very sure.
Ragnor Fell, Clary thought as they wove through the crowded streets.
Im going to see Ragnor Fell. Wild

excitement clashed with trepidationMadeleine had made him sound formidable. What if he had no patience with her, no time? What if she couldnt make him believe she was who she said she was? What if he didnt even remember her mother? It didnt help her nerves that every time she passed a blond man or a girl with long dark hair her insides tensed up as she thought she recognized Jace or Isabelle. But
Isabelle would probably just ignore

her, she thought glumly, and Jace was doubtless back at the
Penhallows, necking with his new girlfriend. You worried about being followed?
Sebastian asked as they turned down a side street that led away from the city center, noticing the way she kept glancing around her.
I keep thinking I see people I know, she admitted. Jace, or the
Lightwoods.
I dont think Jace has left the
Penhallows since they got here. He

mostly seems to be skulking in his room. He hurt his hand pretty badly yesterday too
Hurt his hand? How? Clary, forgetting to look where she was going, stumbled over a rock. The road theyd been walking on had somehow turned from cobblestones to gravel without her noticing.
Ouch.
Were here, Sebastian announced, stopping in front of a high woodand-wire fence. There were no houses aroundthey had rather

abruptly left the residential district behind, and there was only this fence on one side and a gravelly slope leading away toward the forest on the other.
There was a door in the fence, but it was padlocked. From his pocket
Sebastian produced a heavy steel key and opened the gate. Ill be right back with our ride. He swung the gate shut behind him. Clary put her eye to the slats. Through the gaps she could glimpse what looked like a low-slung red clapboard house.

Though it didnt appear to really have a door or proper windows
The gate opened, and Sebastian reappeared, grinning from ear to ear. He held a lead in one hand:
Pacing docilely behind him was a huge gray and white horse with a blaze like a star on its forehead.
A horse? You have a horse? Clary stared in amazement. Who has a horse? Sebastian stroked the horse fondly on the shoulder. A lot of
Shadowhunter families keep a horse

in the stables here in Alicante. If youve noticed, there are no cars in
Idris. They dont work well with all these wards around. He patted the pale leather of the horses saddle, emblazoned with a crest of arms that depicted a water serpent rising out of a lake in a series of coils.
The
name Verlac was written beneath in delicate script. Come on up. Clary backed up. Ive never ridden a horse before.
Ill be riding Wayfarer, Sebastian

reassured her. Youll just be sitting in front of me.
The horse grunted softly. He had huge teeth, Clary noticed uneasily; each one the size of a Pez dispenser. She imagined those teeth sinking into her leg and thought of all the girls shed known in middle school whod wanted ponies of their own. She wondered if they were insane. Be brave, she told herself. Its what your mother would do.
She took a deep breath. All right.

Let s go.

Clarys resolution to be brave lasted as long as it took for Sebastianafter helping her into the saddleto swing himself up onto the horse behind her and dig in his heels. Wayfarer took off like a shot, pounding over the graveled road with a force that sent jolting shocks up her spine. She clutched at the bit of the saddle that

stuck up in front of her, her nails digging into it hard enough to leave marks in the leather.
The road they were on narrowed as they headed out of town, and now there were banks of thick trees on either side of them, walls of green that blocked any wider view.
Sebastian drew back on the reins, and the horse ceased its frantic galloping, Clarys heartbeat slowing along with its pace. As her panic receded, she became slowly conscious of Sebastian behind her he

was holding the reins on either side of her, his arms making a sort of cage around her that kept her from feeling like she was about to slide off the horse. She was suddenly very aware of him, not just the hard strength in the arms that held her, but that she was leaning back against his chest and that he smelled of, for some reason, black pepper.
Not in a bad wayit was spicy and pleasant, very different from Jaces smell of soap and sunlight. Not that sunlight had a smell, really, but if it

did
She gritted her teeth. She was here with Sebastian, on her way to see a powerful warlock, and mentally she was maundering on about the way
Jace smelled. She forced herself to look around. The green banks of trees were thinning out and now she could see a sweep of marbled countryside to either side. It was beautiful in a stark sort of way: a carpet of green broken up here and there by a scar of gray stone road or a crag of black rock rising up out of

the grass. Clusters of delicate white flowers, the same ones shed seen in the necropolis with Luke, starred the hills like occasional snowfall.
How did you find out where Ragnor
Fell is? she asked as Sebastian skillfully guided the horse around a rut in the road.
My aunt Élodie. Shes got quite a network of informants. She knows everything thats going on in Idris, even though she never comes here herself. She hates to leave the
Institute.

What about you? Do you come to
Idris much?
Not really. The last time I was here
I was about five years old. I havent seen my aunt and uncle since then either, so Im glad to be here now. It gives me a chance to catch up.
Besides, I miss Idris when Im not here. Theres nowhere else like it.
Its in the earth of the place. Youll start to feel it, and then youll miss it when you re not here.
I know Jace missed it, she said. But
I thought that was because he lived

here for years. He was brought up here. In the Wayland manor, Sebastian said. Not that far from where were going, in fact.
You do seem to know everything.
Not everything, Sebastian said with a laugh that Clary felt through her back. Yeah, Idris works its magic on everyoneeven those like Jace who have reason to hate the place.
Why do you say that?
Well, he was brought up by
Valentine, wasnt he? And that must

have been pretty awful.
I dont know. Clary hesitated. The truth is, he has mixed feelings about it. I think Valentine was a horrible father in a way, but in another way the little bits of kindness and love he did show were all the kindness and love Jace ever knew. She felt a wave of sadness as she spoke. I think he remembered Valentine with a lot of affection, for a long time.
I cant believe Valentine ever showed Jace kindness or love.
Valentine s a monster.

Well, yes, but Jace is his son. And he was just a little boy. I think
Valentine did love him, in his way
No. Sebastians voice was sharp. Im afraid that s impossible.
Clary blinked and almost turned around to see his face, but then thought better of it.
All
Shadowhunters were sort of crazy on the topic of Valentineshe thought of the Inquisitor and shuddered inwardlyand she could hardly blame them. You re probably right.
Were
here,
Sebastian
said

abruptlyso abruptly that Clary wondered if she really had offended him somehowand slid down from the horses back. But when he looked up at her, he was smiling.
We made good time, he said, tying the reins to the lower branch of a nearby tree. Better than I thought we would. He indicated with a gesture that she should dismount, and after a moments hesitation Clary slid off the horse and into his arms. She clutched him as he caught her, her

legs unsteady after the long ride.
Sorry, she said sheepishly. I didnt mean to grab you.
I wouldnt apologize for that. His breath was warm against her neck, and she shivered. His hands lingered just a moment longer on her back before he reluctantly let her go.
All this wasnt helping Clarys legs feel any steadier. Thanks, she said, knowing full well she was blushing, and wishing heartily that her fair skin didnt show color so readily.

Sothis is it? She looked around.
They were standing in a small valley between low hills. There were a number of gnarled-looking trees ranged around a clearing.
Their twisted branches had a sculptural beauty against the steel blue sky. But otherwiseTheres nothing here, she said with a frown.
Clary. Concentrate.
You meana glamour? But I dont usually have to
Glamours in Idris are often stronger than they are elsewhere. You may

have to try harder than you usually do. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently.
Look at the clearing.
Clary silently performed the mental trick that allowed her to peel glamour from the thing it disguised.
She imagined herself rubbing turpentine on a canvas, peeling away layers of paint to reveal the true image underneathand there it was, a small stone house with a sharply gabled roof, smoke twisting from the chimney in an elegant

curlicue. A winding path lined with stones led up to the front door. As she looked, the smoke puffing from the chimney stopped curling upward and began to take on the shape of a wavering black question mark.
Sebastian laughed. I think that means, Who s there?
Clary pulled her coat closer around her. The wind blowing across the level grass wasnt that brisk, but there was ice in her bones nevertheless. It looks like something out of a fairy tale.

Are you cold? Sebastian put an arm around her. Immediately the smoke curling from the chimney stopped forming itself into question marks and began puffing out in the shape of lopsided hearts. Clary ducked away from him, feeling both embarrassed and somehow guilty, as if shed done something wrong.
She hurried toward the front walk of the house, Sebastian just behind her. They were halfway up the front path when the door flew open.
Despite having been obsessed with

finding Ragnor Fell ever since
Madeleine had told her his name,
Clary had never stopped to picture what he might look like. A large, bearded man, she would have thought, if shed thought about it at all. Someone who looked like a
Viking, with big broad shoulders.
But the person who stepped out of the front door was tall and thin, with short, spiky dark hair. He was wearing a gold mesh vest and a pair of silk pajama pants. He regarded
Clary with mild interest, puffing

gently on a fantastically large pipe as he did so. Though he looked nothing at all like a Viking, he was instantly and totally familiar.
Magnus Bane.
But Clary looked wildly over at
Sebastian,
who seemed as astonished as she was. He was staring at Magnus with his mouth slightly open, a blank look on his face. Finally he stammered, Are you Ragnor Fell? The warlock?
Magnus took the pipe out of his mouth. Well, Im certainly not

Ragnor Fell the exotic dancer.
I Sebastian seemed at a loss for words. Clary wasnt sure what hed been expecting, but Magnus was a lot to take in. We were hoping you could help us. Im Sebastian Verlac, and this is Clarissa Morgensternher mother is Jocelyn Fairchild
I dont care who her mother is,
Magnus said. You cant see me without an appointment. Come back later. Next March would be good.
March? Sebastian looked horrified.
Youre right, Magnus said. Too

rainy. How about June?
Sebastian drew himself upright. I dont think you understand how important this is
Sebastian, dont bother, Clary said in disgust. Hes just messing with your head. He cant help us, anyway.
Sebastian only looked more confused. But I don t see why he can t
All right, thats enough, Magnus said, and snapped his fingers once.
Sebastian froze in place, his mouth still open, his hand partially outstretched. Sebastian! Clary reached out to touch him, but he was as rigid as a statue. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest showed that he was even still alive. Sebastian? she said again, but it was hopeless: She knew somehow that he couldnt see or hear her. She turned on Magnus. I cant believe you just did that. What o n earth is wrong with you? Has whatevers in that pipe melted your brain? Sebastian s on our side.
I dont have a side, Clary darling,
Magnus said with a wave of his

pipe. And really, its your own fault
I had to freeze him for a short while. You were awfully close to telling him I m not Ragnor Fell.
Thats because youre not Ragnor
Fell.
Magnus blew a stream of smoke out of his mouth and regarded her thoughtfully through the haze. Come on, he said. Let me show you something. He held the door of the small house open, gesturing her inside. With a last, disbelieving glance at Sebastian, Clary followed him.
The interior of the cottage was unlit.
The faint daylight streaming in through the windows was enough to show Clary that they stood inside a large room crowded with dark shadows. There was an odd smell in the air, as of burning garbage.
She made a faint choking noise as
Magnus raised his hand and snapped his fingers once again. A bright blue light bloomed from his fingertips. Clary gasped. The room was a

shamblesfurniture smashed into splinters, drawers opened and their contents scattered. Pages ripped from books drifted in the air like ash. Even the window glass was shattered. I got a message from Fell last night, said Magnus, asking me to meet him here. I turned up hereand found it like this. Everything destroyed, and the stench of demons all around.
Demons? But demons cant come into Idris
I didnt say they have. Im just telling

you what happened. Magnus spoke without inflection. The place stank of something demonic in origin.
Ragnors body was on the floor. He hadnt been dead when they left him, but he was dead when I arrived. He turned to her. Who knew you were looking for him?
Madeleine, Clary whispered. But shes dead. Sebastian, Jace, and
Simon. The Lightwoods
Ah, said Magnus. If the Lightwoods know, the Clave may well know by now, and Valentine has spies in the

Clave.
I should have kept it a secret instead of asking everyone about him, Clary said in horror. This is my fault. I should have warned Fell
Might I point out, said Magnus, that you couldnt find Fell, which is in fact why you were asking people about him. Look, Madeleineand youjust thought of Fell as someone who could help your mother. Not someone Valentine might be interested in beyond that. But theres more to it. Valentine might not have

known how to wake up your mother, but he seems to have known that what she did to put herself in that state had a connection to something he wanted very much. A particular spell book.
How do you know all this? Clary asked. Because Ragnor told me.
But
Magnus cut her off with a gesture.
Warlocks
have ways of communicating with each other.
They have their own languages. He

raised the hand that held the blue flame. Logos.
Letters of fire, each at least six inches tall, appeared on the walls as if etched into the stone with liquid gold. The letters raced around the walls, spelling out words Clary couldnt read. She turned to Magnus. What does it say?
Ragnor did this when he knew he was dying. It tells whatever warlock comes after him what happened. As Magnus turned, the glow of the burning letters lit his cat

eyes to gold. He was attacked here by servants of Valentine. They demanded the Book of the White.
Aside from the Gray Book, its among the most famous volumes of supernatural work ever written.
Both the recipe for the potion
Jocelyn took and the recipe for the antidote to it are contained in that book. Clary s mouth dropped open. So was it here?
No. It belonged to your mother. All
Ragnor did was advise her where to

hide it from Valentine.
So it s
Its at the Wayland family manor.
The Waylands had their home very close to where Jocelyn and
Valentine lived; they were their nearest neighbors. Ragnor suggested that your mother hide the book in their home, where Valentine would never look for it. In the library, as a matter of fact.
But Valentine lived in the Wayland manor for years after that, Clary protested. Wouldnt he have found

it?
It was hidden inside another book.
One Valentine was unlikely to ever open. Magnus smiled crookedly.
Simple Recipes for Housewives.
No one can say your mother didnt have a sense of humor.
So have you gone to the Wayland manor? Have you looked for the book? Magnus shook his head. Clary, there are misdirection wards on the manor. They dont just keep out the
Clave; they keep out everyone.

Especially Downworlders. Maybe if I had time to work on them, I could crack them, but
Then no one can get into the manor?
Despair clawed at her chest. Its impossible? I didnt say no one, Magnus said. I can think of at least one person who could almost certainly get into the manor. You mean Valentine?
I mean, said Magnus, Valentines son. Clary shook her head. Jace wont

help me, Magnus. He doesnt want me here. In fact, I doubt hes speaking to me at all.
Magnus looked at her meditatively.
I think, he said, there isnt much that
Jace wouldnt do for you, if you asked him.
Clary opened her mouth and then shut it again. She thought of the way
Magnus had always seemed to know how Alec felt about Jace, how Simon felt about her. Her feelings for Jace must be written on her face even now, and Magnus was

an expert reader. She glanced away.
Say I can convince Jace to come to the manor with me and get the book, she said. Then what? I dont know how to cast a spell, or make an antidote Magnus snorted. Did you think I was giving you all this advice for free? Once you get hold of the Book of the White, I want you to bring it straight to me.
The book? You want it?
Its one of the most powerful spell books in the world. Of course I

want it. Besides, it belongs, by right, to Liliths children, not
Raziels. Its a warlock book and should be in warlock hands.
But I need it to cure my mother
You need one page out of it, which you can keep. The rest is mine. And in return, when you bring me the book, Ill make up the antidote for you and administer it to Jocelyn.
You cant say its not a fair deal. He held out a hand. Shake on it?
After a moments hesitation Clary shook. I d better not regret this.

I certainly hope not, Magnus said, turning cheerfully back toward the front door. On the walls the fireletters were already fading. Regret is such a pointless emotion, dont you agree?
The sun outside seemed especially bright after the darkness of the cottage. Clary stood blinking as the view swam into focus: the mountains in the distance, Wayfarer contentedly munching grass, and
Sebastian immobile as a lawn statue, one hand still outstretched.

She turned to Magnus. Could you unfreeze him now, please?
Magnus looked amused. I was surprised when I got Sebastians message this morning, he said.
Saying he was doing a favor for you, no less. How did you wind up meeting him?
Hes a cousin of some friends of the
Lightwoods or something. Hes nice,
I promise.
Nice, bah. Hes gorgeous. Magnus gazed dreamily in his direction.
You should leave him here. I could

hang hats on him and things.
No. You can t have him.
Why not? Do you like him?
Magnus s eyes gleamed. He seems to like you. I saw him going for your hand out there like a squirrel diving for a peanut.
Why dont we talk about your love life? Clary countered. What about you and Alec?
Alec refuses to acknowledge that we have a relationship, and so I refuse to acknowledge him. He sent me a fire message asking for a favor

the other day. It was addressed to
Warlock Bane, as if I were a perfect stranger. Hes still hung up on Jace, I think, though that relationship will never go anywhere. A problem I imagine you know nothing about
Oh, shut up. Clary eyed Magnus with distaste. Look, if you dont unfreeze Sebastian, then I can never leave here, and youll never get the
Book of the White.
Oh, all right, all right. But if I might make a request? Dont tell him any

of what I just told you, friend of the
Lightwoods or not. Magnus snapped his fingers petulantly.
Sebastians face came alive, like a video flashing back to action after it had been paused. help us, he said.
This isnt just some minor problem.
This is life and death.
You Nephilim think all your problems are life and death, said
Magnus. Now go away. Youve begun to bore me.
But
Go, Magnus said, a dangerous tone

to his voice. Blue sparks glittered at the tips of his long fingers, and there was suddenly a sharp smell in the air, like burning. Magnuss cat eyes glowed. Even though she knew it was an act, Clary couldnt help but back away.
I think we should go, Sebastian, she said. Sebastians eyes were narrow. But,
Clary
We r e going, she insisted, and, grabbing him by the arm, halfdragged him toward Wayfarer.

Reluctantly, he followed her, muttering under his breath. With a sigh of relief, Clary glanced back over her shoulder. Magnus was standing at the door to the cottage, his arms folded across his chest.
Catching her eye, he grinned and dropped one eyelid in a single, glittering wink.

Im sorry, Clary. Sebastian had a

hand on Clarys shoulder and another on her waist as he helped her up onto Wayfarers broad back.
She fought down the little voice inside her head that warned her not to get back onto the horseor any horseand let him hoist her up. She swung a leg over and settled herself i n the saddle, telling herself she was balancing on a large, moving sofa and not on a living creature that might turn around and bite her at any moment. Sorry about what? she asked as he

swung up behind her. It was almost annoying how easily he did itas if he were dancingbut comforting to watch. He clearly knew what he was doing, she thought as he reached around her to take the reins.
She supposed it was good that one of them did.
About Ragnor Fell. I wasnt expecting him to be that unwilling to help. Although, warlocks are capricious. Youve met one before, haven t you?
I met Magnus Bane. She twisted

around momentarily to look past
Sebastian at the cottage receding into the distance behind them. The smoke was puffing out of the chimney in the shape of little dancing figures.
Dancing
Magnuses? She couldnt tell from here. Hes the High Warlock of
Brooklyn.
Is he much like Fell?
Shockingly similar. Its all right about Fell. I knew there was a chance he d refuse to help us.
But I promised you help. Sebastian

sounded genuinely upset. Well, at least theres something else I can show you, so the day wont have been a complete waste of time.
What is it? She twisted around again to look up at him. The sun was high in the sky behind him, firing the strands of his dark hair with an outline of gold.
Sebastian grinned. You ll see.

As they rode farther away from
Alicante, walls of green foliage whipped by on either side, giving way every so often to improbably beautiful vistas: frost blue lakes, green valleys, gray mountains, silver slivers of river and creek flanked by banks of flowers. Clary wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this. She couldnt help but feel nervous, almost exposed, without the comfort of tall buildings closing her in.
Not that there were no buildings at

all. Every once in a while the roof of a large stone building would rise into view above the trees. These were manor houses, Sebastian explained (by shouting in her ear): the country houses of wealthy
Shadowhunter
families.
They
reminded Clary of the big old mansions along the Hudson River, north of Manhattan, where rich New
Yorkers had spent their summers hundreds of years ago.
The road beneath them had turned from gravel to dirt. Clary was

jerked out of her reverie as they crested a hill and Sebastian pulled
Wayfarer up short. This is it, he said. Clary stared. It was a tumbled mass of charred, blackened stone, recognizable only by outline as something that had once been a house: There was a hollow chimney, still pointing toward the sky, and a chunk of wall with a glassless window gaping in its center. Weeds grew up through the foundations, green among the black.

I dont understand, she said. Why are we here?
You dont know? Sebastian asked.
This was where your mother and father lived. Where your brother was born. This was Fairchild manor. Not for the first time, Clary heard
Hodges voice in her head.
Valentine set a great fire and burned himself to death along with his family, his wife, and his child.
Scorched the land black. No one will build there still. They say the

place is cursed.
Without another word she slid from the horses back. She heard
Sebastian call out to her, but she was already half-running, halfsliding down the low hill. The ground evened out where the house had once stood; the blackened stones of what had once been a walkway lay dry and cracked at her feet. In among the weeds she could see a set of stairs that ended abruptly a few feet from the ground.
Clary Sebastian followed her

through the weeds, but she was barely aware of his presence.
Turning in a slow circle, she took it all in. Burned, half-dead trees.
What had probably once been a shady lawn, stretching away down a sloping hill. She could see the roof of what was probably another nearby manor house in the distance, just above the tree line. The sun sparked off broken bits of window glass in the one full wall that was still standing. She stepped into the ruins over a shelf of blackened

stones. She could see the outline of rooms, of doorwayseven a scorched cabinet, almost intact, flung on its side with smashed bits of china spilling out, mixing with the black earth. Once this had been a real house, inhabited by living, breathing people. Her mother had lived here, gotten married here, had a baby here. And then Valentine had come and turned it all to dust and ash, leaving Jocelyn thinking her son was dead, leading her to hide the

truth about the world from her daughter. A sense of piercing sadness invaded Clary. More than one life had been wrecked in this place. She put her hand to her face and was almost surprised to find it damp: She had been crying without knowing it.
Clary, Im sorry. I thought youd want to see this. It was Sebastian, crunching toward her across the rubble, his boots kicking up puffs of ash. He looked worried.
She turned to him. Oh, I do. I did.

Thank you.
The wind had picked up. It blew strands of his dark hair across his face. He gave a rueful smile. It must be hard to think about everything that happened in this place, about
Valentine, about your mother she had incredible courage.
I know, Clary said. She did. She does. He touched her face lightly. So do you. Sebastian, you dont know anything about me.

Thats not true. His other hand came up, and now he was cupping her face. His touch was gentle, almost tentative. Ive heard all about you,
Clary. About the way you fought your father for the Mortal Cup, the way you went into that vampireinfested hotel after your friend.
Isabelles told me stories, and Ive heard rumors, too. And ever since the first onethe first time I heard your nameIve wanted to meet you. I knew you d be extraordinary.
She laughed shakily. I hope youre

not too disappointed.
No, he breathed, sliding his fingertips under her chin. Not at all.
He lifted her face to his. She was too surprised to move, even when he leaned toward her and she realized, belatedly, what he was doing: Reflexively she shut her eyes as his lips brushed gently over hers, sending shivers through her. A sudden fierce longing to be held and kissed in a way that would make her forget everything else surged through her. She put her arms up,

twining them around his neck, partly to steady herself and partly to draw him closer.
His hair tickled her fingertips, not silky like Jaces but fine and soft, and she shouldnt be thinking about
Jace. She pushed back thoughts of him as Sebastians fingers traced her cheeks and the line of her jaw. His touch was gentle, despite the calluses on his fingertips. Of course, Jace had the same calluses from fighting; probably all
Shadowhunters had them

She clamped down on the thought of
Jace, or tried to, but it was no good.
She could see him even with her eyes closedsee the sharp angles and planes of a face she could never properly draw, no matter how much the image of it had burned itself into her mind; see the delicate bones of his hands, the scarred skin of his shoulders The fierce longing that had surged up in her so swiftly receded with a sharp recoil that was like an elastic band springing back. She went

numb, even as Sebastians lips pressed down on hers and his hands moved to cup the back of her neckshe went numb with an icy shock of wrongness. Something was terribly wrong, something even more than her hopeless longing for someone she could never have. This was something else: a sudden jolt of horror, as if shed been taking a confident step forward and suddenly plunged into a black void.
She gasped and jerked away from
Sebastian with such force that she

almost stumbled. If he hadnt been holding her, she would have fallen.
Clary. His eyes were unfocused, his cheeks flushed with a high bright color. Clary, what s wrong?
Nothing. Her voice sounded thin to her own ears. Nothingits just, I shouldn t have I m not really ready
Did we go too fast? We can take it slower He reached for her, and before she could stop herself, she flinched away. He looked stricken.
I m not going to hurt you, Clary.
I know.

Did something happen? His hand came up, stroked her hair back; she bit back the urge to jerk away. Did
Jace
Jace? Did he know shed been thinking about Jace, had he been able to tell? And at the same timeJace is my brother. Why would you bring him up like that? What do you mean?
I just thought He shook his head, pain and confusion chasing each other across his features. That maybe someone else had hurt you.

His hand was still on her cheek; she reached up and gently but firmly detached it, returning it to his side.
No. Nothing like that. I just She hesitated. It felt wrong.
Wrong? The hurt on his face vanished, replaced by disbelief.
Clary, we have a connection. You know we do. Since the first second
I saw you
Sebastian, don t
I felt like you were someone Id always been waiting for. I saw you feel it too. Don t tell me you didn t.

But that hadn t been what shed felt.
She d felt as if she d walked around a corner in a strange city and suddenly seen her own brownstone looming up in front of her. A surprising and not entirely pleasant recognition, almost: How can this be here?
I didn t, she said.
The anger that rose in his eyessudden, dark, uncontrolledtook her by surprise. He caught her wrists in a painful grasp. Thats not true. She tried to pull away. Sebastian
Its not true. The blackness of his eyes seemed to have swallowed up the pupils. His face was like a white mask, stiff and rigid.
Sebastian, she said as calmly as she could. You re hurting me.
He let go of her. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. Im sorry, he said. I m sorry. I thought
Well, you thought wrong, Clary wanted to say, but she bit the words back. She didnt want to see that look on his face again. We should

go back, she said instead. Itll be dark soon.
He nodded numbly, seeming as shocked by his outburst as she was.
He turned and headed back toward
Wayfarer, who was cropping grass in the long shadow of a tree. Clary hesitated a moment, then followed himthere didnt seem to be anything else she could do. She glanced down surreptitiously at her wrists as she fell into step behind himthey were ringed with red where his fingers had gripped her, and more

strangely, her fingertips were smudged black, as if she had somehow stained them with ink.
Sebastian was silent as he helped her up onto Wayfarers back. Im sorry if I implied anything about
Jace, he said finally as she settled herself in the saddle. He would never do anything to hurt you. I know its for your sake that hes been visiting that vampire prisoner in the
Gard
It was as if everything in the world ground to a sudden halt. Clary could

hear her own breath whistling in and out of her ears, saw her hands, frozen like the hands of a statue, lying still against the saddle pommel. Vampire prisoner? she whispered. Sebastian turned a surprised face up to hers. Yes, he said, Simon, that vampire they brought over with them from New York. I thoughtI mean, I was sure you knew all about it. Didn t Jace tell you?

8

ONE OF THE LIVING

Simon woke to sunlight glinting brightly off an object that had been shoved through the bars of his window. He got to his feet, his body aching with hunger, and saw that it was a metal flask, about the size of a lunchbox thermos. A rolled-up bit of notepaper had been tied around the neck. Plucking it down, Simon

unrolled the paper and read:
Simon: This is cow blood, fresh from the butchers. Hope its all right. Jace told me what you said, and I want you to know I think its really brave. Just hang in there and well figure out a way to get you out.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX Isabelle
Simon smiled at the scribbled Xs and Os that ran along the bottom of the page. Good to know Isabelles flamboyant affection hadnt suffered

under the current circumstances. He unscrewed the flasks top and had swallowed several mouthfuls before a sharp prickling sensation between his shoulder blades made him turn around.
Raphael stood calmly in the center of the room. He had his hands clasped behind his back, his slight shoulders set. He was wearing a sharply pressed white shirt and a dark jacket. A gold chain glittered at his throat.
Simon almost gagged on the blood

he was drinking. He swallowed hard, still staring. Youyou cant be here. Raphaels smile somehow managed to give the impression that his fangs were showing, even though they weren t. Don t panic, Daylighter.
I m not panicking. This wasn t strictly true. Simon felt as if he d swallowed something sharp. He hadnt seen
Raphael since the night hed clawed himself, bloody and bruised, out of a hastily dug grave in Queens. He still remembered Raphael throwing

packets of animal blood at him, and the way hed torn into them with his teeth as if he were an animal himself. It wasnt something he liked to remember. He would have been happy never to see the vampire boy again. The suns still up. How are you here?
Im not. Raphaels voice was smooth as butter. I am a Projection. Look.
He swung his hand, passing it through the stone wall beside him. I am like smoke. I cannot hurt you. Of course, neither can you hurt me.

I dont want to hurt you. Simon set the flask down on the cot. I do want to know what you re doing here.
You left New York very suddenly,
Daylighter. You do realize that youre supposed to inform the head vampire of your local area when you re leaving the city, don t you?
Head vampire? You mean you? I thought the head vampire was someone else
Camille has not yet returned to us,
Raphael said, without any apparent emotion. I lead in her stead. Youd

know all this if youd bothered to get acquainted with the laws of your kind. My leaving New York wasnt exactly planned in advance. And no offense, but I dont really think of you as my kind.
Dios. Raphael lowered his eyes, as if hiding amusement. You are stubborn. How can you say that?
It seems obvious, doesn t it?
I mean Simons throat closed up.
That word. You can say it, and I

can t say God.
Raphaels eyes flashed upward; he did look amused. Age, he said. And practice. And faith, or its lossthey are in some ways the same thing.
You will learn, over time, little fledgling. Don t call me that.
But it is what you are. Youre a
Child of the Night. Isnt that why
Valentine captured you and took your blood? Because of what you are? You seem pretty well-informed,

Simon said. Maybe you should tell me. Raphaels eyes narrowed. I have also heard a rumor that you drank the blood of a Shadowhunter and that is what gave you your gift, your ability to walk in sunlight. Is it true?
Simons hair prickled. Thats ridiculous. If Shadowhunter blood could give vampires the ability to walk in daylight, everyone would know it by now. Nephilim blood would be at a premium. And there w o ul d never be peace between

vampires and Shadowhunters after that. So it s a good thing it isn t true.
A faint smile turned up the edges of
Raphaels mouth. True enough.
Speaking of premiums, you do realize, dont you, Daylighter, that you are a valuable commodity now?
There isnt a Downworlder on this earth who doesnt want to get their hands on you.
Does that include you?
Of course it does.
And what would you do if you did get your hands on me?

Raphael shrugged his slight shoulders. Perhaps I am alone in thinking that the ability to walk in the daylight might not be such a gift as other vampires believe. We are the Children of the Night for a reason. It is possible that I consider you as much of an abomination as humanity considers me.
Do you?
Its possible. Raphaels expression was neutral. I think youre a danger to us all. A danger to vampirekind, if you will. And you cant stay in this

cell forever, Daylighter. Eventually youll have to leave and face the world again. Face me again. But I can tell you one thing. I will swear to do you no harm, and not try to find you, if you in turn swear to hide yourself away once Aldertree releases you. If you swear to go so far away that no one will ever find you, and to never again contact anyone you knew in your mortal life. I can t be more fair than that.
But Simon was already shaking his head. I cant leave my family. Or

Clary.
Raphael made an irritable noise.
They are no longer part of who you are. You re a vampire now.

But I don t want to be, said Simon.
Look at you, complaining, said
Raphael. You will never get sick, never die, and be strong and young forever. You will never age. What have you got to complain about?
Young forever, Simon thought. It sounded good, but did anyone really want to be sixteen forever? It would have been one thing to be frozen forever at twenty-five, but sixteen?
To always be this gangly, to never really grow into himself, his face or his body? Not to mention that,

looking like this, hed never be able to go into a bar and order a drink.
Ever. For eternity.
And, Raphael added, you do not even have to give up the sun.
Simon had no desire to go down that road again. I heard the others talking about you in the Dumort, he said. I know you put on a cross every Sunday and go to see your family. I bet they dont even know youre a vampire. So dont tell me to leave everyone in my life behind. I wont do it, and I wont lie and say I

will.
Raphaels eyes glittered. What my family believes doesnt matter. Its what I believe. What I know. A true vampire knows he is dead. He accepts his death. But you, you think you are still one of the living. It is that which makes you so dangerous.
You cannot acknowledge that you are no longer alive.

It was twilight when Clary shut the door of Amatiss house behind her and threw the bolts home. She leaned against the door for a long moment in the shadowy entryway, her eyes half-shut. Exhaustion weighed down every one of her limbs, and her legs ached painfully.
Clary? Amatiss insistent voice cut through the silence. Is that you?
Clary stayed where she was, adrift in the calming darkness behind her closed eyes. She wanted so badly to be home, she could almost taste the

metallic air of the Brooklyn streets.
She could see her mother sitting in her chair by the window, dusty, pale yellow light streaming in through the open apartment windows, illuminating her canvas as she painted. Homesickness twisted in her gut like pain.
Clary. The voice came from much closer this time. Clarys eyes snapped open. Amatis was standing in front of her, her gray hair pulled severely back, her hands on her hips. Your brothers here to see you.

He s waiting in the kitchen.
Jace is here? Clary fought to keep her rage and astonishment off her face. There was no point showing how angry she was in front of Lukes sister. Amatis was looking at her curiously. Should I not have let him in? I thought you d want to see him.
No, its fine, Clary said, maintaining her even tone with some difficulty.
I m just tired.
Huh. Amatis looked as if she didnt believe it. Well, Ill be upstairs if

you want me. I need a nap.
Clary couldnt imagine what shed want Amatis for, but she nodded and limped down the corridor into the kitchen, which was awash with bright light. There was a bowl of fruit on the tableoranges, apples, and pearsand a loaf of thick bread along with butter and cheese, and a plate beside it of what looked likecookies? Had Amatis actually made cookies?
At the table sat Jace. He was leaning forward on his elbows, his

golden hair tousled, his shirt slightly open at the neck. She could see the thick banding of black
Marks tracing his collarbone. He held a cookie in his bandaged hand.
So Sebastian was right; he had hurt himself. Not that she cared. Good, he said, you re back. I was beginning to think you d fallen into a canal.
Clary just stared at him, wordless.
She wondered if he could read the anger in her eyes. He leaned back in the chair, throwing one arm casually over the back of it. If it hadnt been

for the rapid pulse at the base of his throat, she might almost have believed his air of unconcern.
You look exhausted, he added.
Where have you been all day?
I was out with Sebastian.
Sebastian? His look of utter astonishment was momentarily gratifying. He walked me home last night,
Clary said, and in her mind the words Ill just be your brother from now on, just your brother beat like the rhythm of a damaged heart. And

so far, hes the only person in this city whos been remotely nice to me.
So yes, I was out with Sebastian.
I see. Jace set his cookie back down on the plate, his face blank. Clary, I came here to apologize. I shouldnt have spoken to you the way I did.
No, Clary said. You shouldn t have.
I also came to ask you if youd reconsider going back to New
York.
God, Clary said. This again
It s not safe for you here.
What are you worried about? she

asked tonelessly. That theyll throw me in prison like they did with
Simon?
Jaces expression didnt change, but he rocked back in his chair, the front legs lifting off the floor, almost as if she had shoved him.
Simon ?
Sebastian told me what happened to him, she went on in the same flat voice. What you did. How you brought him here and then let him just get thrown in jail. Are you trying to get me to hate you?

And you trust Sebastian? Jace asked. You barely know him, Clary.
She stared at him. Is it not true?
He met her gaze, but his face had gone still, like Sebastians face when shed pushed him away. Its true. She seized a plate off the table and flung it at him. He ducked, sending the chair spinning, and the plate hit the wall above the sink and shattered in a starburst of broken porcelain. He leaped out of the chair as she picked up another plate

and threw it, her aim going wild:
This one bounced off the refrigerator and hit the floor at
Jaces feet where it cracked into two even pieces. How could you?
Simon trusted you. Where is he now? What are they going to do to him? Nothing, Jace said. Hes all right. I saw him last night
Before or after I saw you? Before or after you pretended everything was all right and you were just fine? You came away from that thinking I was just fine? Jace choked on something almost like a laugh. I must be a better actor than I thought.
There was a twisted smile on his face. It was a match to the tinder of
Clarys rage: How dare he laugh at her now? She scrabbled for the fruit bowl, but it suddenly didnt seem like enough. She kicked the chair out of the way and flung herself at him, knowing it would be the last thing he d expect her to do.
The force of her sudden assault

caught him off guard. She slammed into him and he staggered backward, fetching up hard against the edge of the counter. She half-fell against him, heard him gasp, and drew back her arm blindly, not even knowing what she intended to do
She had forgotten how fast he was.
Her fist slammed not into his face, but into his upraised hand; he wrapped his fingers around hers, forcing her arm back down to her side. She was suddenly aware of how close they were standing; she

was leaning against him, pressing him back against the counter with the slight weight of her body. Let go of my hand.
Are you really going to hit me if I do? His voice was rough and soft, his eyes blazing.
Don t you think you deserve it?
She felt the rise and fall of his chest against her as he laughed without amusement. Do you think I planned all this? Do you really think Id do that? Well, you dont like Simon, do you?

Maybe you never have.
Jace made a harsh, incredulous sound and let go of her hand. When
Clary stepped back, he held out his right arm, palm up. It took her a moment to realize what he was showing her: the ragged scar along his wrist. This, he said, his voice as taut as a wire, is where I cut my wrist to let your vampire friend drink my blood. It nearly killed me.
And now you think, what, that I just abandoned him without a thought?
She stared at the scar on Jaces

wristone of so many all over his body, scars of all shapes and sizes.
Sebastian told me that you brought
Simon here, and then Alec marched him up to the Gard. Let the Clave have him. You must have known
I brought him here by accident. I asked him to come to the Institute so
I could talk to him. About you, actually. I thought maybe he could convince you to drop the idea of coming to Idris. If its any consolation, he wouldnt even consider it. While he was there, we

were attacked by Forsaken. I had to drag him through the Portal with me.
It was that or leave him there to die.
But why bring him to the Clave?
You must have known
The reason we sent him there was because the only Portal in Idris is in the Gard. They told us they were sending him back to New York.
And you believed them? After what happened with the Inquisitor?
Clary, the Inquisitor was an anomaly. That might have been your first experience with the Clave, but

it wasnt minethe Clave is us. The
Nephilim. They abide by the Law.
Except they didn t.
No, Jace said. They didnt. He sounded very tired. And the worst part about all this, he added, is remembering Valentine ranting about the Clave, how its corrupt, how it needs to be cleansed. And by the Angel if I don t agree with him.
Clary was silent, first because she could think of nothing to say, and then in startlement as Jace reached outalmost as if he werent thinking

about what he was doingand drew her toward him. To her surprise, she let him. Through the white material of his shirt she could see the outlines of his Marks, black and curling, stroking across his skin like licks of flame. She wanted to lean her head against him, wanted to feel his arms around her the way shed wanted air when she was drowning in Lake Lyn.
He might be right that things need fixing, she said finally. But hes not right about the way they should be

fixed. You can see that, can t you?
He half-closed his eyes. There were crescents of gray shadow under them, she saw, the remnants of sleepless nights. Im not sure I can see anything. Youre right to be angry, Clary. I shouldnt have trusted the Clave. I wanted so badly to think that the Inquisitor was an abnormality, that she was acting without their authority, that there was still some part of being a
Shadowhunter I could trust.
Jace, she whispered.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She and Jace were standing close enough, she realized, that they were touching all up and down their bodies; even their knees were touching, and she could feel his heartbeat. Move away from him, she told herself, but her legs wouldn t obey.
What is it? he said, his voice very soft. I want to see Simon, she said. Can you take me to see him?
As abruptly as he had caught hold of

her, he let her go. No. Youre not even supposed to be in Idris. You can t go waltzing into the Gard.
But hell think everyones abandoned him. He ll think
I went to see him, Jace said. I was going to let him out. I was going to tear the bars out of the window with my hands. His voice was matter-offact. But he wouldn t let me.
He wouldnt let you? He wanted to stay in jail?
He said the Inquisitor was sniffing around after my family, after me.

Aldertree wants to blame what happened in New York on us. He cant grab one of us and torture it out of usthe Clave would frown on thatbut hes trying to get Simon to tell him some story where were all in cahoots with Valentine. Simon said if I break him out, then the
Inquisitor will know I did it, and it ll be even worse for the Lightwoods.
Thats very noble of him and all, but whats his long-range plan? To stay in jail forever?
Jace shrugged. We hadnt exactly

worked that out.
Clary blew out an exasperated breath. Boys, she said. All right, look. What you need is an alibi.
Well make sure youre somewhere everyone can see you, and the
Lightwoods are too, and then well get Magnus to break Simon out of prison and get him back to New
York.
I hate to tell you this, Clary, but theres no way Magnus would do that. I dont care how cute he thinks
Alec is, hes not going to go directly

against the Clave as a favor to us.
He might, Clary said, for the Book of the White.
Jace blinked. The what?
Quickly Clary told him about
Ragnor Fells death, about Magnus showing up in Fells place, and about the spell book. Jace listened with stunned attentiveness until she finished. Demons? he said. Magnus said Fell was killed by demons?
Clary cast her mind back. No he said the place stank of something

demonic in origin. And that Fell was killed by Valentines servants.
That s all he said.
Some dark magic leaves an aura that reeks like demons, Jace said. If
Magnus wasnt specific, its probably because hes none too pleased that theres a warlock out there practicing dark magic, breaking the
Law. But its hardly the first time
Valentines gotten one of Liliths children to do his nasty bidding.
Remember the warlock kid he killed in New York?

Valentine used his blood for the
Ritual.
I remember. Clary shuddered. Jace, does Valentine want the Book for the same reason I do? To wake my mother up?
He might. Or if its what Magnus says it is, Valentine might just want it for the power he could gain from it. Either way, wed better get it before he does.
Do you think theres any chance its in the Wayland manor?
I know its there, he said, to her surprise. That cookbook? Recipes

for Housewives or whatever? Ive seen it before. In the manor s library.
It was the only cookbook in there.
Clary felt dizzy. She almost hadnt let herself believe it could be true.
Jaceif you take me to the manor, and we get the book, Ill go home with
Simon. Do this for me and Ill go to
New York, and I wont come back, I swear. Magnus was rightthere are misdirection wards on the manor, he said slowly. Ill take you there, but its not close. Walking, it might

take us five hours.
Clary reached out and drew his stele out of its loop on his belt. She held it up between them, where it glowed with a faint white light not unlike the light of the glass towers.
Who said anything about walking?

You get some strange visitors,
Daylighter, Samuel said. First
Jonathan Morgenstern, and now the

head vampire of New York City. Im impressed. Jonathan Morgenstern? It took
Simon a moment to realize that this was, of course, Jace. He was sitting on the floor in the center of the room, turning the empty flask in his hands over and over idly. I guess Im more important than I realized.
And Isabelle Lightwood bringing you blood, Samuel said. Thats quite a delivery service.
Simons head went up. How do you know Isabelle brought it? I didnt

say anything
I saw her through the window. She looks just like her mother, said
Samuel, at least, the way her mother did years ago. There was an awkward pause. You know the blood is only a stopgap, he added.
Pretty soon the Inquisitor will start wondering if youve starved to death yet. If he finds you perfectly healthy, hell figure out somethings up and kill you anyway.
Simon looked up at the ceiling. The runes carved into the stone

overlapped one another like shingled sand on a beach. I guess Ill just have to believe Jace when he says theyll find a way to get me out, he said. When Samuel said nothing in return, he added, Ill ask him to get you out too, I promise. I wont leave you down here.
Samuel made a choked noise, like a laugh that couldnt quite make it out of his throat. Oh, I dont think Jace
Morgenstern is going to want to r e s c u e me, he said. Besides, starving down here is the least of

your problems, Daylighter. Soon enough Valentine will attack the city, and then well likely all be killed. Simon blinked. How can you be so sure? I was close to him at one point. I knew his plans. His goals. He intends to destroy Alicantes wards and strike at the Clave from the heart of their power.
But I thought no demons could get past the wards. I thought they were impenetrable. So its said. It requires demon blood to take the wards down, you see, and it can only be done from inside
Alicante. But because no demon can get through the wardswell, its a perfect paradox, or should be. But
Valentine claimed hed found a way to get around that, a way to break through. And I believe him. He will find a way to take the wards down, and he will come into the city with his demon army, and he will kill us all. The flat certainty in Samuels voice

sent a chill up Simons spine. You sound awfully resigned. Shouldnt you do something? Warn the Clave?
I did warn them. When they interrogated me. I told them over and over again that Valentine meant to destroy the wards, but they dismissed me. The Clave thinks the wards will stand forever because theyve stood for a thousand years.
But so did Rome, till the barbarians came. Everything falls someday. He chuckled: a bitter, angry sound.
Consider it a race to see who kills

you first, DaylighterValentine, the other Downworlders, or the Clave.

Somewhere between here and there
Clarys hand was torn out of Jaces.
When the hurricane spit her out and she hit the floor, she hit it alone, hard, and rolled gasping to a stop.
She sat up slowly and looked around. She was lying in the center of a Persian rug thrown over the

floor of a large stonewalled room.
There were items of furniture here and there; the white sheets thrown over them turned them into humped, unwieldy ghosts. Velvet curtains sagged across huge glass windows; the velvet was gray-white with dust, and motes of dust danced in the moonlight. Clary? Jace emerged from behind a massive white-sheeted shape; it might have been a grand piano. Are you all right?
Fine. She stood up, wincing a little.

Her elbow ached. Aside from the fact that Amatis will probably kill me when we get back. Considering that I smashed all her plates and opened up a Portal in her kitchen.
He reached his hand down to her.
For whatever its worth, he said, helping her to her feet, I was very impressed. Thanks. Clary glanced around. So this is where you grew up? Its like something out of a fairy tale.
I was thinking a horror movie, Jace said. God, its been years since Ive

seen this place. It didnt used to be so So cold? Clary shivered a little.
She buttoned her coat, but the cold in the manor was more than physical cold: The place felt cold, as if there had never been warmth or light or laughter inside it.
No, said Jace. It was always cold. I was going to say dusty. He took a witchlight stone out of his pocket, and it flared to life between his fingers. Its white glow lit his face from beneath, picking out the

shadows under his cheekbones, the hollows at his temples. This is the study, and we need the library.
Come on.
He led her from the room and down a long corridor lined with dozens of mirrors that gave back their own reflections. Clary hadnt realized quite how disheveled she looked: her coat streaked with dust, her hair snarled from the wind. She tried to smooth it down discreetly and caught Jaces grin in the next mirror.
For some reason, due doubtless to a

mysterious Shadowhunter magic she didnt have a hope of understanding, his hair looked perfect.
The corridor was lined with doors, some open; through them Clary could glimpse other rooms, as dusty and unused-looking as the study had been. Michael Wayland had had no relatives, Valentine had said, so she supposed no one had inherited this place after his deathshe had assumed Valentine had carried on living here, but that seemed clearly not to be the case. Everything

breathed sorrow and disuse. At
Renwicks, Valentine had called this place home, had showed it to Jace in the Portal mirror, a gilt-edged memory of green fields and mellow stone, but that, Clary thought, had been a lie too. It was clear
Valentine hadnt really lived here in yearsperhaps he had just left it here to rot, or he had come here only occasionally, to walk the dim corridors like a ghost.
They reached a door at the end of the hallway and Jace shouldered it

open, standing back to let Clary pass into the room before him. She had been picturing the library at the
Institute, and this room was not entirely unlike it: the same walls filled with row upon row of books, the same ladders on rolling casters so the high shelves could be reached. The ceiling was flat and beamed, though, not conical, and there was no desk. Green velvet curtains, their folds iced with white dust, hung over windows that alternated panes of green and blue

glass. In the moonlight they sparkled like colored frost. Beyond the glass, all was black.
This is the library? she said to Jace in a whisper, though she wasnt sure why she was whispering. There was something so profoundly still about the big, empty house.
He was looking past her, his eyes dark with memory. I used to sit in that window seat and read whatever my father had assigned me that day.
Different languages on different daysFrench on Saturday, English on

Sundaybut I cant remember now what day Latin was, if it was
Monday or Tuesday .
Clary had a sudden flashing image of Jace as a little boy, book balanced on his knees as he sat in the window embrasure, looking out overover what? Were there gardens? A view? A high wall of thorns like the wall around Sleeping
Beautys castle? She saw him as he read, the light that came in through the window casting squares of blue and green over his fair hair and the

small face more serious than any ten-year-old s should be.
I cant remember, he said again, staring into the dark.
She touched his shoulder. It doesnt matter, Jace.
I suppose not. He shook himself, as if waking out of a dream, and moved across the room, the witchlight lighting his way. He knelt down to inspect a row of books and straightened up with one of them in his hand. Simple Recipes for
Housewives, he said. Here it is.

She hurried across the room and took it from him. It was a plainlooking book with a blue binding, and dusty, like everything in the house. When she opened it, dust swarmed up from its pages like a gathering of moths.
A large, square hole had been cut out of the center of the book. Fitted into the hole like a jewel in a bezel was a smaller volume, about the size of a small chapbook, bound in white leather with the title printed in gilded Latin letters. Clary

recognized the words for white and book, but when she lifted it out and opened it, to her surprise the pages were covered with thin, spidery handwriting in a language she couldn t understand.
Greek, Jace said, looking over her shoulder. Of the ancient variety.
Can you read it?
Not easily, he admitted. Its been years. But Magnus will be able to, I imagine. He closed the book and slipped it into the pocket of her green coat before turning back to the

bookshelves, skimming his fingers along the rows of books, his fingertips tracing their spines.
Are there any of these you want to take with you? she asked gently. If you d like
Jace laughed and dropped his hand.
I was only allowed to read what I was assigned, he said. Some of the shelves had books on them I wasnt even allowed to touch. He indicated a row of books, higher up, bound in matching brown leather. I read one of them once, when I was about six,

just to see what the fuss was about.
It turned out to be a journal my father was keeping. About me.
Notes about my son, Jonathan
Christopher. He whipped me with a belt when he found out Id read it.
Actually, it was the first time I even knew I had a middle name.
A sudden ache of hatred for her father went through Clary. Well,
Valentine s not here now.
Clary , Jace began, a warning note in his voice, but shed already reached up and yanked one of the books out

from the forbidden shelf, knocking it to the ground. It made a satisfying thump. Clary!
Oh, come on. She did it again, knocking another book down, and then another. Dust puffed up from their pages as they hit the floor. You try. Jace looked at her for a moment, and then a half smile teased the corner of his mouth. Reaching up, he swept his arm along the shelf, knocking the rest of the books to the ground with a loud crash. He

laughedand then broke off, lifting his head, like a cat pricking up its ears at a distant sound. Do you hear that? Hear what? Clary was about to ask, and stopped herself. There was a sound, getting louder nowa highpitched whirring and grinding, like the sound of machinery coming to life. The sound seemed to be coming from inside the wall. She took an involuntary step back just as the stones in front of them slid back with a groaning, rusty scream. An

opening gaped behind the stonesa sort of doorway, roughly hacked out of the wall.
Beyond the doorway was a set of stairs, leading down into darkness.

9

THIS GUILTY BLOOD

I didnt remember there even

being a cellar here, Jace said, staring past Clary at the gaping hole in the wall. He raised the witchlight, and its glow bounced off the downward-leading tunnel. The walls were black and slick, made of a smooth dark stone Clary didnt recognize. The steps gleamed as if they were damp. A strange smell drifted up through the opening: dank, musty, with a weird metallic tinge that set her nerves on edge.
What do you think could be down there? I dont know. Jace moved toward the stairs; he put a foot on the top step, testing it, and then shrugged as if hed made up his mind. He began to make his way down the steps, moving carefully. Partway down he turned and looked up at Clary. Are you coming? You can wait up here for me if you want to.
She glanced around the empty library, then shivered and hurried after him.
The stairs spiraled down in tighter and tighter circles, as if they were

making their way through the inside of a huge conch shell. The smell grew stronger as they reached the bottom, and the steps widened out into a large square room whose stone walls were streaked with the marks of dampand other, darker stains. The floor was scrawled with markings: a jumble of pentagrams and runes, with white stones scattered here and there.
Jace took a step forward and something crunched under his feet.
He and Clary looked down at the

same time. Bones, Clary whispered.
Not white stones after all, but bones of all shapes and sizes, scattered across the floor. What was he doing down here?
The witchlight burned in Jaces hand, casting its eerie glow over the room. Experiments, Jace said in a dry, tense tone. The Seelie Queen said What kind of bones are these?
Clarys voice rose. Are they animal bones? No. Jace kicked a pile of bones

with his feet, scattering them. Not all of them.
Clarys chest felt tight. I think we should go back.
Instead Jace raised the witchlight in his hand. It blazed out, brightly and then more brightly, lighting the air with a harsh white brilliance. The far corners of the room sprang into focus. Three of them were empty.
The fourth was blocked with a hanging cloth. There was something behind the cloth, a humped shape
Jace, Clary whispered. What is

that?
He didnt reply. There was a seraph blade in his free hand, suddenly;
Clary didnt know when hed drawn it, but it shone in the witchlight like a blade of ice.
Jace, don t, said Clary, but it was too latehe strode forward and twitched the cloth aside with the tip of the blade, then seized it and jerked it down. It fell in a blossoming cloud of dust.
Jace staggered back, the witchlight falling from his grasp. As the

blazing light fell, Clary caught a single glimpse of his face: It was a white mask of horror. Clary snatched the witchlight up before it could go dark and raised it high, desperate to see what could have shocked Jaceunshockable Jaceso badly. At first all she saw was the shape of a mana man wrapped in a dirty white rag, crouched on the floor.
Manacles circled his wrists and ankles, attached to thick metal staples driven into the stone floor.

How can he be alive? Clary thought in horror, and bile rose up in her throat. The rune-stone shook in her hand, and light danced in patches over the prisoner: She saw emaciated arms and legs, scarred all over with the marks of countless tortures. The skull of a face turned toward her, black empty sockets where the eyes should have been and then there was a dry rustle, and she saw that what she had thought was a white rag were wings, white wings rising up behind his back in two

pure white crescents, the only pure things in this filthy room.
She gave a dry gasp. Jace. Do you see I see. Jace, standing beside her, spoke in a voice that cracked like broken glass.
You said there werent any angels that no one had ever seen one
Jace was whispering something under his breath, a string of what sounded like panicked curses. He stumbled forward, toward the huddled creature on the floorand

recoiled, as if he had bounced off an invisible wall. Looking down,
Clary saw that the angel crouched inside a pentagram made of connected runes graven deeply into the floor; they glowed with a faint phosphorescent light. The runes, she whispered. We can t get past
But there must be something, Jace said, his voice nearly breaking,
something we can do.
The angel raised its head. Clary saw with a distracted, terrible pity that it had curling golden hair like

Jaces that shone dully in the light.
Tendrils clung close to the hollows of its skull. Its eyes were pits, its face slashed with scars, like a beautiful painting destroyed by vandals. As she stared, its mouth opened and a sound poured from its throatnot words but a piercing golden music, a single singing note, held and held and held so high and sweet that the sound was like pain
A flood of images rose up before
Clarys eyes. She was still clutching the rune-stone, but its light was

gone; she was gone, no longer there but somewhere else, where the pictures of the past flowed before her in a waking dreamfragments, colors, sounds.
She was in a wine cellar, bare and clean, a single huge rune scrawled on the stone floor. A man stood beside it; he held an open book in one hand and a blazing white torch in the other. When he raised his head, Clary saw that it was
Valentine: much younger, his face unlined and handsome, his dark

eyes clear and bright. As he chanted, the rune blazed up into fire, and when the flames receded, a crumpled figure lay among the ashes: an angel, wings spread and bloody, like a bird shot out of the sky . The scene changed. Valentine stood by a window, at his side a young woman with shining red hair. A familiar silver ring gleamed on his hand as he reached to put his arms around her. With a jolt of pain
Clary recognized her motherbut she

was young, her features soft and vulnerable. She was wearing a white nightgown and was obviously pregnant. The Accords, Valentine was saying angrily, were not just the worst idea the Clave has ever had, but the worst thing that could happen to
Nephilim. That we should be bound to Downworlders, tied to those creatures Valentine, Jocelyn said with a smile, enough about politics, please. She reached up and twined

her arms around Valentines neck, her expression full of loveand his was as well, but there was something else in it, something that sent a shiver down Clary s spine .
Valentine knelt in the center of a circle of trees. There was a bright moon overhead, illuminating the black pentagram that had been scrawled into the scraped earth of the clearing. The branches of trees made a thick net overhead; where they extended above the edge of the pentagram, their leaves curled and

turned black. In the center of the five-pointed star sat a woman with long, shining hair; her shape was slim and lovely, her face hidden in shadow, her arms bare and white.
Her left hand was extended in front of her, and as she opened her fingers, Clary could see that there was a long slash across her palm, dripping a slow stream of blood into a silver cup that rested on the pentagrams edge. The blood looked black in the moonlight, or perhaps it was black.

The child born with this blood in him, she said, and her voice was soft and lovely, will exceed in power the Greater Demons of the abysses between the worlds. He will be more mighty than the
Asmodei, stronger than the shedim of the storms. If he is properly trained, there is nothing he will not be able to do. Though I warn you, she added, it will burn out his humanity, as poison burns the life from the blood.
My thanks to you, Lady of Edom,

said Valentine, and as he reached to take the cup of blood, the woman lifted her face, and Clary saw that though she was otherwise beautiful, her eyes were hollow black holes from which curled waving black tentacles, like feelers probing the air. Clary stifled a scream
The night, the forest, vanished.
Jocelyn stood facing someone Clary couldnt see. She was no longer pregnant, and her bright hair straggled around her stricken, despairing face. I cant stay with

him, Ragnor, she said. Not for another day. I read his book. Do you know what he did to Jonathan? I didnt think even Valentine could do that. Her shoulders shook. He used demon bloodJonathans not a baby anymore. He isnt even human; hes a monster She vanished. Valentine was pacing restlessly around the circle of runes, a seraph blade shining in his hand.
Why wont you speak? he muttered.
Why wont you give me what I want? He drove down with the

knife, and the angel writhed as golden liquid poured from its wound like spilled sunlight. If you wont give me answers, Valentine hissed, you can give me your blood.
It will do me and mine more good than it will you.
Now they were in the Wayland library. Sunlight shone through the diamond-paned windows, flooding the room with blue and green.
Voices came from another room: the sounds of laughter and chatting, a party going on. Jocelyn knelt by the

bookshelf, glancing from side to side. She drew a thick book from her pocket and slipped it onto the shelf . And she was gone. The scene showed a cellar, the same cellar that Clary knew she was standing in right now. The same scrawled pentagram scarred the floor, and within the center of the star lay the angel. Valentine stood by, once again with a burning seraph blade in his hand. He looked years older now, no longer a young man.

Ithuriel, he said. We are old friends now, arent we? I could have left you buried alive under those ruins, but no, I brought you here with me.
All these years Ive kept you close, hoping one day you would tell me what I wantedneededto know. He came closer, holding the blade out, its blaze lighting the runic barrier to a shimmer. When I summoned you, I dreamed that you would tell me why. Why Raziel created us, his race of Shadowhunters, yet did not give us the powers Downworlders

havethe speed of the wolves, the immortality of the Fair Folk, the magic of warlocks, even the endurance of vampires. He left us naked before the hosts of hell but for these painted lines on our skin.
Why should their powers be greater than ours? Why cant we share in what they have? How is that just?
Within its imprisoning star the angel sat silent as a marble statue, unmoving, its wings folded. Its eyes expressed nothing beyond a terrible silent sorrow. Valentines mouth

twisted.
Very well. Keep your silence. I will have my chance. Valentine lifted the blade. I have the Mortal Cup,
Ithuriel, and soon I shall have the
Swordbut without the Mirror I cannot begin the summoning. The
Mirror is all I need. Tell me where it is. Tell me where it is, Ithuriel, and I will let you die.
The scene broke apart in fragments, and as her vision faded, Clary caught glimpses of images now familiar to her from her own

nightmaresangels with wings both white and black, sheets of mirrored water, gold and bloodand Jace, turning away from her, always turning away. Clary reached out for him, and for the first time the angels voice spoke in her head in words that she could understand.
These are not the first dreams I have ever showed you.
The image of a rune burst behind her eyes, like fireworksnot a rune she had ever seen before; it was as strong, simple, and straightforward

as a tied knot. It was gone in a breath as well, and as it vanished, the angels singing ceased. Clary was back in her own body, reeling on her feet in the filthy and reeking room. The angel was silent, frozen, wings folded, a grieving effigy.
Clary let out her breath in a sob.
Ithuriel. She reached her hands out to the angel, knowing she couldnt pass the runes, her heart aching. For years the angel had been down here, sitting silent and alone in the blackness, chained and starving but

unable to die .
Jace was beside her. She could see from his stricken face that hed seen everything she had. He looked down at the seraph blade in his hand and then back at the angel. Its blind face was turned toward them in silent supplication.
Jace took a step forward, and then another. His eyes were fixed on the angel, and it was as if, Clary thought, there were some silent communication passing between them, some speech she couldnt hear.

Jaces eyes were bright as gold disks, full of reflected light.
Ithuriel, he whispered.
The blade in his hand blazed up like a torch. Its glow was blinding. The angel raised its face, as if the light were visible to its blind eyes. It reached out its hands, the chains that bound its wrists rattling like harsh music. Jace turned to her. Clary, he said.
The runes.
The runes. For a moment she stared at him, puzzled, but his eyes urged

her onward. She handed Jace the witchlight, took his stele from her pocket, and knelt down by the scrawled runes. They looked as if theyd been gouged into the stone with something sharp.
She glanced up at Jace. His expression startled her, the blaze in his eyesthey were full of faith in her, of confidence in her abilities.
With the tip of the stele she traced several lines into the floor, changing the runes of binding to runes of release, imprisonment to

openness. They flared up as she traced them, as if she were dragging a match tip across sulphur.
Done, she rose to her feet. The runes shimmered before her.
Abruptly Jace moved to stand beside her. The witchlight stone was gone, the only illumination coming from the seraph blade that hed named for the angel, blazing in his hand. He stretched it out, and this time his hand passed through the barrier of the runes as if there were nothing there.

The angel reached its hands up and took the blade from him. It shut its blind eyes, and Clary thought for a moment that it smiled. It turned the blade in its grasp until the sharp tip rested just blow its breastbone.
Clary gave a little gasp and moved forward, but Jace grabbed her arm, his grip like iron, and yanked her backwardjust as the angel drove the blade home.
The angels head fell back, its hands dropping from the hilt, which protruded from just where its heart

would beif angels had hearts; Clary didnt know. Flames burst from the wound, spreading outward from the blade. The angels body shimmered into white flame, the chains on its wrist burning scarlet, like iron left too long in a fire. Clary thought of medieval paintings of saints consumed in the blaze of holy ecstasyand the angels wings flew wide and white before they, too, caught and blazed up, a lattice of shimmering fire.
Clary could no longer watch. She

turned and buried her face in Jaces shoulder. His arm came around her, his grip tight and hard. Its all right, he said into her hair, its all right, but the air was full of smoke and the ground felt like it was rocking under her feet. It was only when Jace stumbled that she realized it wasnt shock: The ground was moving. She let go of Jace and staggered; the stones underfoot were grinding together, and a thin rain of dirt was sifting down from the ceiling. The angel was a pillar of smoke; the

runes around it glowed painfully bright. Clary stared at them, decoding their meaning, and then looked wildly at Jace: The manorit was tied to Ithuriel. If the angel dies, the manor
She didnt finish her sentence. He had already seized her hand and was running for the stairs, pulling her along after him. The stairs themselves were surging and buckling; Clary fell, banging her knee painfully on a step, but Jaces grip on her arm didnt loosen. She

raced on, ignoring the pain in her leg, her lungs full of choking dust.
They reached the top of the steps and exploded out into the library.
Behind them Clary could hear the soft roar as the rest of the stairs collapsed. It wasnt much better here; the room was shuddering, books tumbling from their shelves.
A statue lay where it had tipped over, in a pile of jagged shards.
Jace let go of Clarys hand, seized up a chair, and, before she could ask him what he meant to do, threw

it at the stained-glass window.
It sailed through in a waterfall of broken glass. Jace turned and held his hand out to her. Behind him, through the jagged frame that remained, she could see a moonlight-saturated stretch of grass and a line of treetops in the distance. They seemed a long way dow n. I cant jump that far, she thought, and was about to shake her head at Jace when she saw his eyes widen, his mouth shaping a warning. One of the heavy marble

busts that lined the higher shelves had slid free and was falling toward her; she ducked out of its way, and it hit the floor inches from where shed been standing, leaving a sizable dent in the floor.
A second later Jaces arms were around her and he was lifting her off her feet. She was too surprised to struggle as he carried her over to the broken window and dumped her unceremoniously out of it.
She hit a grassy rise just below the window and tumbled down its steep

incline, gaining speed until she fetched up against a hillock with enough force to knock the breath out of her. She sat up, shaking grass out of her hair. A second later Jace came to a stop next to her; unlike her, he rolled immediately into a crouch, staring up the hill at the manor house.
Clary turned to look where he was looking, but hed already grabbed her, shoving her down into the depression between the two hills.
Later shed find dark bruises on her

upper arms where hed held her; now she just gasped in surprise as he knocked her down and rolled on top of her, shielding her with his body as a huge roar went up. It sounded like the earth shattering apart, like a volcano erupting. A blast of white dust shot into the sky.
Clary heard a sharp pattering noise all around her. For a bewildered moment she thought it had started to rainthen she realized it was rubble and dirt and broken glass: the detritus of the shattered manor being

flung down around them like deadly hail. Jace pressed her harder into the ground, his body flat against hers, his heartbeat nearly as loud in her ears as the sound of the manors subsiding ruins.

The roar of the collapse faded slowly, like smoke dissipating into the air. It was replaced by the loud

chirruping of startled birds; Clary could see them over Jaces shoulder, circling curiously against the dark sky. Jace, she said softly. I think I dropped your stele somewhere.
He drew back slightly, propping himself on his elbows, and looked down at her. Even in the darkness she could see herself reflected in his eyes; his face was streaked with soot and dirt, the collar of his shirt torn. Thats all right. As long as you re not hurt.

Im fine. Without thinking, she reached up, her fingers brushing lightly through his hair. She felt him tense, his eyes darkening.
There was grass in your hair, she said. Her mouth was dry; adrenaline sang through her veins. Everything that had just happenedthe angel, the shattering manorseemed less real than what she saw in Jace s eyes.
You shouldn t touch me, he said.
Her hand froze where it was, her palm against his cheek. Why not?
You know why, he said, and shifted

away from her, rolling onto his back. You saw what I saw, didnt you? The past, the angel. Our parents. It was the first time, she thought, that hed called them that. Our parents. She turned onto her side, wanting to reach out to him but not sure if she should. He was staring blindly up at the sky. I saw.
You know what I am. The words breathed out in an anguished whisper. Im part demon, Clary. Part demon. You understood that much,

didnt you? His eyes bored into her like drills. You saw what Valentine was trying to do. He used demon bloodused it on me before I was even born. Im part monster. Part everything Ive tried so hard to burn out, to destroy.
Clary pushed away the memory of
Valentine s voice saying, She left me because I turned her first child into a monster. But warlocks are part demon. Like Magnus. It doesnt make them evil
Not part Greater Demon. You heard

what the demon woman said.
It will burn out his humanity, as poison burns the life from the blood. Clarys voice trembled. Its not true. It cant be. It doesnt make sense But it does. There was a furious desperation in Jaces expression.
She could see the gleam of the silver chain around his bare throat, lit to a white flare by the starlight. It explains everything.
You mean it explains why youre such an amazing Shadowhunter?

Why youre loyal and fearless and honest and everything demons aren t? It explains, he said, evenly, why I feel the way I do about you.
What do you mean?
He was silent for a long moment, staring at her across the tiny space that separated them. She could feel him, even though he wasnt touching her, as if he still lay with his body against hers. Youre my sister, he said finally. My sister, my blood, my family. I should want to protect

youhe laughed soundlessly and without any humorto protect you from the sort of boys who want to do with you exactly what I want to do. Clarys breath caught. You said you just wanted to be my brother from now on.
I lied, he said. Demons lie, Clary.
You know, there are some kinds of wounds you can get when youre a
Shadowhunterinternal injuries from demon poison. You dont even know whats wrong with you, but youre

bleeding to death slowly inside.
Thats what its like, just being your brother. But Aline
I had to try. And I did. His voice was lifeless. But God knows, I dont want anyone but you. I dont even want to want anyone but you. He reached out, trailed his fingers lightly through her hair, fingertips brushing her cheek. Now at least I know why.
Clarys voice had sunk to a whisper.
I don t want anyone but you, either.

She was rewarded by the catch in his breathing. Slowly he drew himself up onto his elbows. Now he was looking down at her, and his expression had changedthere was a look on his face shed never seen before, a sleepy, almost deadly light in his eyes. He let his fingers trail down her cheek to her lips, outlining the shape of her mouth with the tip of a finger. You should probably, he said, tell me not to do this. She said nothing. She didnt want to

tell him to stop. She was tired of saying no to Jaceof never letting herself feel what her whole heart wanted her to feel. Whatever the cost. He bent down, his lips against her cheek, brushing it lightlyand still that light touch sent shivers through her nerves, shivers that made her whole body tremble. If you want me to stop, tell me now, he whispered.
When she still said nothing, he brushed his mouth against the hollow of her temple. Or now. He

traced the line of her cheekbone. Or now. His lips were against hers. Or
But she had reached up and pulled him down to her, and the rest of his words were lost against her mouth.
He kissed her gently, carefully, but it wasnt gentleness she wanted, not now, not after all this time, and she knotted her fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against her. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and then his arms circled her, gathering her against him, and they rolled over on the grass, tangled together, still

kissing. There were rocks digging into Clarys back, and her shoulder ached where shed fallen from the window, but she didnt care. All that existed was Jace; all she felt, hoped, breathed, wanted, and saw was Jace. Nothing else mattered.
Despite her coat, she could feel the heat of him burning through his clothes and hers. She tugged his jacket off, and then somehow his shirt was off too. Her fingers explored his body as his mouth explored hers: soft skin over lean

muscle, scars like thin wires. She touched the star-shaped scar on his shoulderit was smooth and flat, as if it were a part of his skin, not raised like his other scars. She supposed they were imperfections, these marks, but they didnt feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body: the map of a life of endless war.
He fumbled with the buttons of her coat, his hands shaking. She didnt think shed ever seen Jaces hands unsteady before. Ill do it, she said,

and reached for the last button herself; as she raised herself up, something cold and metallic struck her collarbone, and she gasped in surprise. What is it? Jace froze. Did I hurt you? No. It was this. She touched the silver chain around his neck. On its end hung a small silver circle of metal. It had bumped against her when shed leaned forward. She stared at it now.
That ringthe weather-beaten metal

with its pattern of starsshe knew that ring.
The Morgenstern ring. It was the same ring that had gleamed on
Valentines hand in the dream the angel had showed them. It had been his, and he had given it to Jace, as it had always been passed along, father to son.
Im sorry, Jace said. He traced the line of her cheek with his fingertip, a dreamlike intensity in his gaze. I forgot I was wearing the damn thing. Sudden cold flooded Clarys veins.
Jace, she said, in a low voice. Jace, don t. Don t what? Don t wear the ring?
No, dontdont touch me. Stop for a second. His face went still. Questions had chased away the dreamlike confusion in his eyes, but he said nothing, just withdrew his hand.
Jace, she said again. Why? Why now? His lips parted in surprise. She could see a dark line where he had

bitten his bottom lip, or maybe she had bitten it. Why what now?
You said there was nothing between us. That if weif we let ourselves feel what we might want to feel, wed be hurting everyone we care about. I told you. I was lying. His eyes softened. You think I don t want to ?
No, she said. No, Im not stupid, I know that you do. But when you said that now you finally understand why you feel this way about me, what did you mean?

Not that she didnt know, she thought, but she had to ask, had to hear him say it.
Jace caught her wrists and drew her hands up to his face, lacing his fingers through hers. You remember what I said to you at the Penhallows house? he asked. That you never think about what you do before you do it, and thats why you wreck everything you touch?
No, Id forgotten that. Thanks for the reminder. He barely seemed to notice the

sarcasm in her voice. I wasnt talking about you, Clary. I was talking about me. Thats what I m like. He turned his face slightly and her fingers slid along his cheek. At least now I know why. I know whats wrong with me. And maybemaybe thats why I need you so much. Because if Valentine made me a monster, then I suppose he made you a sort of angel. And
Lucifer loved God, didnt he? So says Milton, anyway.
Clary sucked in her breath. I am not

an angel. And you dont even know that thats what Valentine used
Ithuriels blood formaybe Valentine just wanted it for himself
He said the blood was for me and mine, Jace said quietly. It explains why you can do what you can do,
Clary. The Seelie Queen said we were both experiments. Not just me.
Im not an angel, Jace, she repeated.
I dont return library books. I steal illegal music off the Internet. I lie to my mom. I am completely ordinary.
Not to me. He looked down at her.

His face hovered against a background of stars. There was nothing of his usual arrogance in his expressionshe had never seen him look so unguarded, but even that unguardedness was mixed with a self-hatred that ran as deep as a wound. Clary, I
Get off me, Clary said.
What? The desire in his eyes cracked into a thousand pieces like the shards of the Portal mirror at
Renwicks, and for a moment his expression was blankly astonished.

She could hardly bear to look at him and still say no. Looking at him noweven if she hadn t been in love with him, that part of her that was her mothers daughter, that loved every beautiful thing for its beauty alone, would still have wanted him.
But, then, it was precisely because she was her mothers daughter that it was impossible.
You heard me, she said. And leave my hands alone. She snatched them back, knotting them into tight fists to stop their shaking.

He didnt move. His lip curled back, and for a moment she saw that predatory light in his eyes again, but now it was mixed with anger. I dont suppose you want to tell me why?
You think you only want me because youre evil, not human. You just want something else you can hate yourself for. I wont let you use me to prove to yourself how worthless you are.
I never said that. I never said I was using you.
Fine, she said. Tell me now that

youre not a monster. Tell me theres nothing wrong with you. And tell me you would want me even if you didnt have demon blood. Because I dont have demon blood. And I still want you.
Their gazes locked, his blindly furious; for a moment neither breathed, and then he flung himself off her, swearing, and rolled to his feet. Snatching his shirt up from the grass, he drew it over his head, still glaring. He yanked the shirt down over his jeans and turned away to

look for his jacket.
Clary stood up, staggering a little.
The stinging wind raised goose bumps on her arms. Her legs felt like they were made of half-melted wax. She did up the buttons on her coat with numb fingers, fighting the urge to burst into tears. Crying wouldn t help anything now.
The air was still full of dancing dust and ash, the grass all around scattered with debris: shattered bits of furniture; the pages of books blowing mournfully in the wind;

splinters of gilded wood; a chunk of almost half a staircase, mysteriously unharmed. Clary turned to look at
Jace; he was kicking bits of debris with a savage satisfaction. Well, he said, we re screwed.
It wasnt what shed expected. She blinked. What?
Remember? You lost my stele.
Theres no chance of you drawing a
Portal now. He spoke the words with a bitter pleasure, as if the situation satisfied him in some obscure way. Weve got no other

way of getting back. Were going to have to walk.

It wouldnt have been a pleasant walk under normal circumstances.
Accustomed to city lights, Clary couldnt believe how dark it was in
Idris at night. The thick black shadows that lined the road on either side seemed to be crawling with barely visible things, and even

with Jaces witchlight she could see only a few feet ahead of them. She missed streetlights, the ambient glow of headlights, the sounds of the city. All she could hear now was the steady crunch of their boots on gravel and, every once in a while, her own breath puffing out in surprise as she tripped over a stray rock. After a few hours her feet began to ache and her mouth was dry as parchment. The air had grown very cold, and she hunched along

shivering, her hands thrust deep into her pockets. But even all that would have been bearable if only Jace had been talking to her. He hadnt spoken a word since theyd left the manor except to snap out directions, telling her which way to turn at a fork in the road, or ordering her to skirt a pothole. Even then she doubted if he would have minded much if shed fallen into the pothole, except that it would have slowed them down.
Eventually the sky in the east began to lighten. Clary, stumbling along

half-asleep, raised her head in surprise. It s early for dawn.
Jace looked at her with bland contempt. Thats Alicante. The sun doesnt come up for another three hours at least. Those are the city lights. Too relieved that they were nearly home to mind his attitude, Clary picked up her pace. They rounded a corner and found themselves walking along a wide dirt path cut into a hillside. It snaked along the curve of the slope, disappearing

around a bend in the distance.
Though the city was not yet visible, the air had grown brighter, the sky shot through with a peculiar reddish glow. We must be nearly there, Clary said. Is there a shortcut down the hill? Jace was frowning. Somethings wrong, he said abruptly. He took off, half-running down the road, his boots sending up puffs of dust that gleamed ochre in the strange light.
Clary ran to keep pace, ignoring the

protests of her blistered feet. They rounded the next curve and Jace skidded to a sudden halt, sending
Clary crashing into him. In another circumstance it might have been comic. It wasn t now.
The reddish light was stronger now, throwing a scarlet glow up into the night sky, lighting the hill they stood on as if it were daylight. Plumes of smoke curled up from the valley below like the unfurling feathers of a black peacock. Rising from the black vapor were the demon towers

of Alicante, their crystalline shells like arrows of fire piercing the smoky air. Through the thick smoke,
Clary could glimpse the leaping scarlet of flames, scattered across the city like a handful of glittering jewels across a dark cloth.
It seemed incredible, but there it was: They were standing on a hillside high over Alicante, and below them the city was burning.

Part Two

Stars Shine Darkly

ANTONIO: Will you stay no longer? Nor will you not that I go with you?
SEBASTIAN: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you. William Shakespeare, Twelfth
Night

10

FIRE AND SWORD

Its late, Isabelle said, fretfully twitching the lace curtain across the high living room window back into place. He ought to be back by

now.
Be reasonable, Isabelle, Alec pointed out, in that superior bigbrother tone that seemed to imply that while she, Isabelle, might be prone to hysteria, he, Alec, was always perfectly calm. Even his posturehe was lounging in one of the overstuffed armchairs next to the
Penhallows fireplace as if he didnt have a care in the worldseemed designed to show off how unworried he was. Jace does this when hes upset, goes off and

wanders around. He said he was going for a walk. He ll be back.
Isabelle sighed. She almost wished her parents were there, but they were still up at the Gard. Whatever the Clave was discussing, the
Council meeting was dragging on brutally late. But he knows New
York. He doesn t know Alicante
He probably knows it better than you do. Aline was sitting on the couch reading a book, its pages bound in dark red leather. Her black hair was pulled behind her head in

a French braid, her eyes fastened on the volume spread across her lap.
Isabelle, who had never been much of a reader, always envied other people their ability to get lost in a book. There were a lot of things she once would have envied Aline forbeing small and delicately pretty, for one thing, not Amazonian and so tall in heels she towered over almost every boy she met. But then again, it was only recently that
Isabelle had realized other girls werent just for envying, avoiding,

or disliking. He lived here until he was ten. You guys have only visited a few times.
Isabelle raised her hand to her throat with a frown. The pendant slung on the chain around her neck had given a sudden, sharp pulsebut it normally only pulsed in the presence of demons, and they were in Alicante. There was no way there were demons nearby. Maybe the pendant was malfunctioning. I dont think hes wandering around, anyway. I think its pretty obvious

where he went, Isabelle responded.
Alec raised his eyes. You think he went to see Clary?
Is she still here? I thought she was supposed to be going back to New
York. Aline let her book fall closed. Where is Jaces sister staying, anyway?
Isabelle shrugged. Ask him, she said, cutting her eyes toward
Sebastian.
Sebastian was sprawled on the couch opposite Alines. He had a book in his hand too, and his dark

head was bent over it. He raised his eyes as if he could feel Isabelles gaze on him.
Were you talking about me? he asked mildly. Everything about
Sebastian was mild, Isabelle thought with a twinge of annoyance.
She d been impressed by his looks at firstthose sharply planed cheekbones and those black, fathomless eyesbut his affable, sympathetic personality grated on her now. She didnt like boys who looked as if they never got mad

about anything. In Isabelles world, rage equaled passion equaled a good time.
What are you reading? she asked, more sharply than shed meant to. Is that one of Max s comic books?
Yep. Sebastian looked down at the copy of Angel Sanctuary balanced on the sofa s arm. I like the pictures.
Isabelle blew out an exasperated breath. Shooting her a look, Alec said, Sebastian, earlier todayDoes
Jace know where you went?
You mean that I was out with

Clary? Sebastian looked amused.
Look, its not a secret. I would have told Jace if I d seen him since.
I dont see why he would care. Aline put her book aside, an edge to her voice. Its not like Sebastian did anything wrong. So what if he wants to show Clarissa some of Idris before she goes home? Jace ought to be pleased his sister isnt sitting around bored and annoyed.
He can be veryprotective, Alec said after a slight hesitation.
Aline frowned. He should back off.

It cant be good for her, being so overprotected. The look on her face when she walked in on us, it was like shed never seen anyone kissing before. I mean, who knows, maybe she hasn t.
She has, Isabelle said, thinking of the way Jace had kissed Clary in the
Seelie Court. It wasn t something she liked to think aboutIsabelle didnt enjoy wallowing in her own sorrows, much less other peoples.
It s not that.
Then what is it? Sebastian

straightened up, pushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. Isabelle caught a flash of somethinga red line across his palm, like a scar. Is it just that he hates me personally?
Because I dont know what it is I ever Thats my book. A small voice interrupted Sebastians speech. It was Max, standing in the living room doorway. He was wearing gray pajamas and his brown hair was disarrayed as if hed just woken up. He was glaring at the manga

novel sitting next to Sebastian.
What, this? Sebastian held out the copy of Angel Sanctuary. Here you go, kid.
Max stalked across the room and snatched the book back. He scowled at Sebastian. Dont call me kid. Sebastian laughed and stood up. Im getting some coffee, he said, and headed for the kitchen. He paused and turned in the doorway. Does anyone want anything?
There was a chorus of refusals.

With a shrug Sebastian disappeared into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Max, Isabelle said sharply. Dont be rude. I dont like it when people take my stuff. Max hugged the comic book to his chest.
Grow up, Max. He was just borrowing it. Isabelles voice came out more irritably than shed intended; she was still worried about Jace, she knew, and was taking it out on her little brother.

You should be in bed anyway. Its late. There were noises up on the hill.
They woke me up. Max blinked; without his glasses, everything was pretty much a blur to him. Isabelle
The questioning note in his voice got her attention. Isabelle turned away from the window. What?
Do people ever climb the demon towers? Like, for any reason?
Aline looked up. Climb the demon towers? She laughed. No, no one ever does that. Its totally illegal, for

one thing, and besides, why would you want to?
Aline, Isabelle thought, did not have much imagination. She herself could think of lots of reasons why someone might want to climb the demon towers, if only to spit gum down on passersby below.
Max was frowning. But someone did. I know I saw
Whatever you think you saw, you probably dreamed it, Isabelle told him. Maxs face creased. Sensing a

potential meltdown, Alec stood up and held out a hand. Come on, Max, he said, not without affection. Lets get you back to bed.
We should all get to bed, Aline said, standing up. She came over to the window beside Isabelle and drew the curtains firmly shut. Its already almost midnight; who knows when theyll get back from the Council? There no point staying
The pendant at Isabelles throat pulsed again, sharplyand then the window Aline was standing in front

of shattered inward.
Aline
screamed as hands reached through the gaping holenot hands, really,
Isabelle saw with the clarity of shock, but huge, scaled claws, streaked with blood and blackish fluid. They seized Aline and yanked her through the smashed window before she could utter a second scream. Isabelles whip was lying on the table by the fireplace. She dashed for it now, ducking around
Sebastian, who had come racing out

of the kitchen. Get weapons, she snapped as he stared around the room in astonishment. Go! she shrieked, and ran for the window.
By the fireplace Alec was holding
Max as the younger boy squirmed and yelled, trying to wriggle out of his brothers grip. Alec dragged him toward the door. Good, Isabelle thought. Get Max out of here.
Cold air blew through the shattered window. Isabelle pulled her skirt up and kicked out the rest of the broken glass, thankful for the thick

soles of her boots. When the glass was gone, she ducked her head and jumped out through the gaping hole in the frame, landing with a jolt on the stone walkway below.
At first glance the walkway looked empty. There were no streetlights along the canal; the main illumination here came from the windows of nearby houses. Isabelle moved forward cautiously, her electrum whip coiled at her side.
She had owned the whip for so longit had been a twelfth birthday

present from her fatherthat it felt like part of her now, like a fluid extension of her right arm.
The shadows thickened as she moved away from the house and toward Oldcastle Bridge, which arched over the Princewater canal at an odd angle to the walkway. The shadows at its base were clustered as thickly as black fliesand then, as
Isabelle stared, something moved within the shadow, something white and darting.
Isabelle ran, crashing through a low

border of hedges at the end of someones garden and hopping down onto the narrow brick causeway that ran below the bridge. Her whip had begun to glow with a harsh silvery light, and in its faint illumination she could see Aline lying limply at the edge of the canal. A mas sive scaled demon was sprawled on top of her, pressing her down with the weight of its thick lizardlike body, its face buried in her neck
But it couldnt be a demon. There had never been demons in Alicante.

Never. As Isabelle stared in shock, the thing raised its head and sniffed the air, as if sensing her there. It was blind, she saw, a thick line of serrated teeth running like a zipper across its forehead where eyes should be. It had another mouth on the lower half of its face as well, fanged with dripping tusks. The sides of its narrow tail glittered as it whipped back and forth, and
Isabelle saw, drawing closer, that the tail was edged with razor-sharp lines of bone.

Aline twitched and made a noise, a gasping whimper. Relief spilled over Isabelleshed been half-sure
Aline was deadbut it was shortlived. As Aline moved, Isabelle saw that her blouse had been sliced open down the front. There were claw marks on her chest, and the thing had another claw hooked into the waistband of her jeans.
A wave of nausea rolled over
Isabelle. The demon wasnt trying to kill Alinenot yet. Isabelles whip came alive in her hand like the

flaming sword of an avenging angel; she launched herself forward, her whip slashing down across the demon s back.
The demon screeched and rolled off
Aline. It advanced on Isabelle, its two mouths gaping, talons slashing toward her face. Dancing backward, she threw the whip forward again; it slashed across the demons face, its chest, its legs. A myriad of crisscrossing lash marks sprang up across the demons scaled skin, dripping blood and ichor. A

long forked tongue shot from its upper mouth, probing for Isabelles face. There was a bulb on the end of it, she saw, a sort of stinger, like a scorpions. She flicked her wrist to the side and the whip curled around the demons tongue, roping it with bands of flexible electrum. The demon screamed and screamed as she pulled the knot tight and jerked.
The demons tongue fell with a wet, sickening thump to the bricks of the causeway. Isabelle jerked the whip back. The

demon turned and fled, moving with quick, darting motions like a snake.
Isabelle darted after it. The demon was halfway to the path that led up from the causeway when a dark shape rose up in front of it.
Something flashed in the darkness, and the demon fell twitching to the ground. Isabelle came to an abrupt stop.
Aline stood over the fallen demon, a slender dagger in her handshe must have been wearing it on her belt. The runes on the blade shone

like flashing lightning as she drove the dagger down, plunging it over and over into the demons twitching body until the thing stopped moving entirely and vanished.
Aline looked up. Her face was blank. She made no move to hold her blouse closed, despite its torn buttons. Blood oozed from the deep scratch marks on her chest.
Isabelle let out a low whistle.
Aline are you all right?
Aline let the dagger fall to the ground with a clatter. Without

another word she turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness under the bridge.
Caught by surprise, Isabelle swore and dashed after Aline. She wished she d worn something more practical than a velvet dress tonight, although at least shed put her boots on. She doubted she could have caught up to
Aline wearing heels.
There were metal stairs on the other side of the causeway, leading back up to Princewater Street. Aline was a blur at the top of the stairway.

Hiking up the heavy hem of her dress, Isabelle followed, her boots clattering on the steps. When she reached the top, she looked around for Aline.
And stared. She was standing at the foot of the broad road on which the
Penhallows house fronted. She could no longer see Alinethe other girl had disappeared into the churning throng of people crowding the street. And not just people, either. There were things in the streetdemonsdozens of them, maybe

more, like the taloned lizardcreature Aline had dispatched under the bridge. Two or three bodies lay in the street already, one only a few feet from Isabellea man, half his rib cage torn away. Isabelle could see from his gray hair that hed been elderly. But of course he was, she thought, her brain ticking over slowly, the speed of her thoughts dulled by panic. All the adults were in the Gard. Down in the city were only children, the old, and the sick .
The red-tinged air was full of the

smell of burning, the night split by shrieks and screams. Doors were open all up and down the rows of housespeople were darting out of them, then stopping dead as they saw the street filled with monsters.
It was impossible, unimaginable.
Never in history had a single demon crossed the wards of the demon towers. And now there were dozens. Hundreds. Maybe more, flooding the streets like a poisonous tide. Isabelle felt as if she were trapped behind a glass wall, able to

see everything but unable to movewatching, frozen, as a demon seized a fleeing boy and lifted him bodily off the ground, sinking its serrated teeth into his shoulder.
The boy screamed, but his screams were lost in the clamor that was tearing the night apart. The sound rose and rose in volume: the howling of demons, people calling one anothers names, the sounds of running feet and shattering glass.
Someone down the street was shouting words she could barely

understandsomething about the demon towers. Isabelle looked up.
The tall spires stood sentry over the city as they always had, but instead of reflecting the silver light of the stars, or even the red light of the burning city, they were as dead white as the skin of a corpse. Their luminescence had vanished. A chill ran through her. No wonder the streets were full of monsterssomehow, impossibly, the demon towers had lost their magic.
The wards that had protected

Alicante for a thousand years were gone. Samuel had fallen silent hours ago, but Simon was still awake, staring sleeplessly into the darkness, when he heard the screaming.
His head jerked up. Silence. He looked around uneasilyhad he dreamed the noise? He strained his ears, but even with his newly

sensitive hearing, nothing was audible. He was about to lie back down when the screams came again, driving into his ears like needles. It sounded as if they were coming from outside the Gard.
Rising, he stood on the bed and looked out the window. He saw the green lawn stretching away, the faraway light of the city a faint glow in the distance. He narrowed his eyes. There was something wrong about the city light, somethingoff. It was dimmer than he remembered

itand there were moving points here and there in the darkness, like needles of fire, weaving through the streets. A pale cloud rose above the towers, and the air was full of the stench of smoke.
Samuel. Simon could hear the alarm in his own voice. Theres something wrong. He heard doors slamming open and running feet. Hoarse voices shouted.
Simon pressed his face close to the bars as pairs of boots hurtled by outside, kicking up stones as they

ran, the Shadowhunters calling to one another as they raced away from the Gard, down toward the city. The wards are down! The wards are down!
We can t abandon the Gard!
The Gard doesnt matter! Our children are down there!
Their voices were already growing fainter. Simon jerked back from the window, gasping. Samuel! The wards I know. I heard. Samuels voice

came strongly through the wall. He didnt sound frightened but resigned, and even perhaps a little triumphant at being proved right. Valentine has attacked while the Clave is in session. Clever.
But the Gardits fortifiedwhy dont they stay up here?
You heard them. Because all the children are in the city. Childrenaged parentsthey cant just leave them down there.
The Lightwoods. Simon thought of
Jace, and then, with terrible clarity,

of Isabelles small, pale face under her crown of dark hair, of her determination in a fight, of the littlegi r l Xs and Os on the note shed written him. But you told themyou told the Clave what would happen.
Why didn t they believe you?
Because the wards are their religion. Not to believe in the power of the wards is not to believe that they are special, chosen, and protected by the Angel. They might as well believe theyre just ordinary mundanes. Simon swung back to stare out the window again, but the smoke had thickened, filling the air with a grayish pallor. He could no longer hear voices shouting outside; there were cries in the distance, but they were very faint. I think the city is on fire. No. Samuel s voice was very quiet. I think its the Gard thats burning.
Probably demon fire. Valentine would go after the Gard, if he could. But Simons words stumbled over

one another. But someone will come and let us out, wont they? The
Consul, oror Aldertree. They cant just leave us down here to die.
Youre a Downworlder, said
Samuel. And Im a traitor. Do you really think theyre likely to do anything else?

Isabelle! Isabelle!
Alec had his hands on her shoulders

and was shaking her. Isabelle raised her head slowly; her brothers white face floated against the darkness behind him. A curved piece of wood stuck up behind his right shoulder: He had his bow strapped across his back, the same bow that
Simon had used to kill Greater
Demon Abbadon. She couldnt remember Alec walking toward her, couldnt remember seeing him in the street at all; it was as if hed materialized in front of her all at once, like a ghost.

Alec. Her voice came out slow and uneven. Alec, stop it. I m all right.
She pulled away from him.
You didnt look all right. Alec glanced up and cursed under his breath. We have to get off the street.
Where s Aline?
Isabelle blinked. There were no demons in view; someone was sitting on the front steps of the house opposite them and crying in a loud and grating series of shrieks. The old mans body was still in the street, and the smell of demons was

every where. Alineone of the demons tried toit tried to She caught her breath, held it. She was Isabelle
Lightwood. She did not get hysterical, no matter what the provocation. We killed it, but then she ran off. I tried to follow her, but she was too fast. She looked up at her brother. Demons in the city, she said. How is it possible?
I dont know. Alec shook his head.
The wards must be down. There were four or five Oni demons out here when I came out of the house. I

got one lurking by the bushes. The others ran off, but they could come back. Come on. Lets get back to the house. The person on the stairs was still sobbing. The sound followed them as they hurried back to the
Penhallows house. The street stayed empty of demons, but they could hear explosions, cries, and running feet echoing from the shadows of other darkened streets. As they climbed the Penhallows front steps,
Isabelle glanced back just in time to

see a long snaking tentacle whip out from the darkness between the two houses and snatch the sobbing woman off the front steps. Her sobs turned to shrieks. Isabelle tried to turn back, but Alec had already grabbed her and shoved her ahead of him into the house, slamming and locking the front door behind them.
The house was dark. I doused the lights. I didnt want to attract any more of them, Alec explained, pushing Isabelle ahead of him into the living room.

Max was sitting on the floor by the stairs, his arms hugging his knees.
Sebastian was by the window, nailing logs of wood hed taken from the fireplace across the gaping hole in the glass. There, he said, standing back and letting the hammer drop onto the bookshelf. That should hold for a while.
Isabelle dropped down by Max and stroked his hair. Are you all right?
No. His eyes were huge and scared.
I tried to see out the window, but
Sebastian told me to get down.

Sebastian was right, Alec said.
There were demons out in the street.
Are they still there?
No, but there are some still in the city. We have to think about what we re going to do next.
Sebastian was frowning. Wheres
Aline?
She ran off, Isabelle explained. It was my fault. I should have been
It was not your fault. Without you shed be dead. Alec spoke in a clipped voice. Look, we dont have time for self-recriminations. Im

going to go after Aline. I want you three to stay here. Isabelle, look after Max. Sebastian, finish securing the house.
Isabelle spoke up indignantly. I dont want you going out there alone!
Take me with you.
Im the adult here. What I say goes.
Alecs tone was even. Theres every chance our parents will be coming back any minute from the Gard. The more of us here, the better. Itll be too easy for us to get separated out there. Im not risking it, Isabelle. His

glance moved to Sebastian. Do you understand? Sebastian had already taken out his stele. Ill work on warding the house with Marks.
Thanks. Alec was already halfway to the door; he turned and looked back at Isabelle. She met his eyes for a split second. Then he was gone. Isabelle. It was Max, his small voice low. Your wrist is bleeding.
Isabelle glanced down. She had no memory of having hurt her wrist, but

Max was right: Blood had already stained the sleeve of her white jacket. She got to her feet. Im going to get my stele. Ill be right back and help you with the runes, Sebastian.
He nodded. I could use some help.
These aren t my specialty.
Isabelle went upstairs without asking him what his specialty might actually be. She felt bone-tired, in dire need of an energy Mark. She could do one herself if necessary, though Alec and Jace had always been better at those sorts of runes

than she was.
Once inside her room, she rummaged through her things for her stele and a few extra weapons. As she shoved seraph blades into the tops of her boots, her mind was on
Alec and the look theyd shared as hed gone out the door. It wasnt the first time shed watched her brother leave, knowing she might never see him again. It was something she accepted, had always accepted, as part of her life; it wasnt until shed gotten to know Clary and Simon that

shed realized that for most people, of course, it was never like that.
They didnt live with death as a constant companion, a cold breath down the back of their neck on even the most ordinary days. Shed always had such contempt for mundanes, the way all
Shadowhunters didshed believed that they were soft, stupid, sheeplike in their complacency.
Now she wondered if all that hatred didnt just stem from the fact that she was jealous. It must be nice not

worrying that every time one of your family members walked out the door, they d never come back.
She was halfway down the stairs, her stele in hand, when she sensed that something was wrong. The living room was empty. Max and
Sebastian were nowhere to be seen.
There
was a half-finished protection Mark on one of the logs
Sebastian had nailed over the broken window. The hammer hed used was gone.
Her stomach tightened. Max! she

shouted, turning in a circle.
Sebastian! Where are you?
Sebastian s voice answered her from the kitchen. Isabelle in here.
Relief washed over her, leaving her light-headed. Sebastian, thats not funny, she said, marching into the kitchen. I thought you were
She let the door fall shut behind her.
It was dark in the kitchen, darker than it had been in the living room.
She strained her eyes to see
Sebastian and Max and saw nothing but shadows.

Sebastian? Uncertainty crept into her voice. Sebastian, what are you doing in here? Where s Max?
Isabelle. She thought she saw something move, a shadow dark against lighter shadows. His voice was soft, kind, almost lovely. She hadnt realized before now what a beautiful voice he had. Isabelle, Im sorry. Sebastian, youre acting weird. Stop it. Im sorry its you, he said. See, out of all of them, I liked you the best.

Sebastian
Out of all of them, he said again, in the same low voice, I thought you were the most like me.
He brought his fist down then, with the hammer in it.

Alec raced through the dark and burning streets, calling out over and over for Aline. As he left the
Princewater district and entered the

heart of the city, his pulse quickened. The streets were like a
Bosch painting come to life: full of grotesque and macabre creatures and scenes of sudden, hideous violence. Panicked strangers shoved Alec aside without looking and ran screaming past without any apparent destination. The air stank of smoke and demons. Some of the houses were in flames; others had their windows knocked out. The cobblestones sparkled with broken glass. As he drew close to one

building, he saw that what hed thought was a discolored patch of paint was a huge swath of fresh blood splattered across the plaster.
He spun in place, glancing in every direction, but saw nothing that explained it; nevertheless, he hurried away as quickly as he could. Alec, alone of all the Lightwood children, remembered Alicante.
Hed been a toddler when theyd left, yet he still carried recollections of the shimmering towers, the streets

full of snow in winter, chains of witchlight wreathing the shops and houses, water splashing in the mermaid fountain in the Hall. He had always felt an odd tug at his heart at the thought of Alicante, the half-painful hope that his family would return one day to the place where they belonged. To see the city like this was like the death of all joy. Turning onto a wider boulevard, one of the streets that led down to the Accords Hall, he saw a pack of Belial demons ducking

through an archway, hissing and howling. They dragged something behind themsomething that twitched and spasmed as it slid over the cobbled street. He darted down the street, but the demons were already gone. Crumpled against the base of a pillar was a limp shape leaking a spidery trail of blood. Broken glass crunched like pebbles under Alecs boots as he knelt to turn the body over. After a single glance at the purple, distorted face, he shuddered and drew away, grateful that it was

no one he knew.
A noise made him scramble to his feet. He smelled the stench before he saw it: the shadow of something humped and huge slithering toward him from the far end of the street. A
Greater Demon? Alec didnt wait to find out. He darted across the street toward one of the taller houses, leaping up onto a sill whose window glass had been smashed in.
A few minutes later he was pulling himself onto the roof, his hands aching, his knees scraped. He got to

his feet, brushing grit from his hands, and looked out over
Alicante.
The ruined demon towers cast their dull, dead light down onto the moving streets of the city, where things loped and crawled and slunk in the shadows between buildings, like roaches skittering through a dark apartment. The air carried cries and shouts, the sound of screaming, names called on the windand there were the cries of demons as well, howls of mayhem

and delight, shrieks that pierced the human ear like pain. Smoke rose above the honey-colored stone houses in a haze, wreathing the spires of the Hall of Accords.
Glancing up toward the Gard, Alec saw a flood of Shadowhunters racing down the path from the hill, illuminated by the witchlights they carried. The Clave were coming down to battle.
He moved to the edge of the roof.
The buildings here were very close together, their eaves almost

touching. It was easy to jump from this roof to the next, and then to the one after that. He found himself running lightly along the rooftops, jumping the slight distances between houses. It was good to have the cold wind in his face, overpowering the stench of demons.
Hed been running for a few minutes before he realized two things: One, he was running toward the white spires of the Accords Hall. And two, there was something up ahead, in a square between two alleys,

something that looked like a shower of rising sparksexcept that they were blue, a dark gas-flame blue.
Alec had seen blue sparks like that before. He stared for a moment before he began to run.
The roof closest to the square was steeply pitched. Alec skidded down the side of it, his boots knocking against loose shingles. Poised precariously at the edge, he looked down. Cistern Square was below him, and his view was partly blocked by a

massive metal pole that jutted out midway down the face of the building he was standing on. A wooden shop sign dangled from it, swaying in the breeze. The square beneath was full of Iblis demonshuman-shaped but formed of a substance like coiling black smoke, each with a pair of burning yellow eyes. They had formed a line and were moving slowly toward the lone figure of a man in a sweeping gray coat, forcing him to retreat against a wall. Alec could

only stare. Everything about the man was familiarthe lean curve of his back, the wild tangle of his dark hair, and the way that blue fire sprang from his fingertips like darting cyanotic fireflies.
Magnus. The warlock was hurling spears of blue fire at the Iblis demons; one spear struck an advancing demon in the chest. With a sound like a pail of water poured onto flames, it shuddered and vanished in a burst of ash. The others moved to fill his placeIblis

demons werent very brightand
Magnus hurled another spate of fiery spears. Several Iblis fell, but now another demon, more cunning than the others, had drifted around
Magnus and was coalescing behind him, ready to strike
Alec didnt stop to think. Instead he jumped, catching the edge of the roof as he fell, and then dropped straight down to seize the metal pole and swing himself up and around it, slowing his fall. He released it and dropped lightly to

the ground. The demon, startled, began to turn, its yellow eyes like flaming jewels; Alec had time only to reflect that if he were Jace, he would have had something clever to say before he snatched the seraph blade from his belt and ran it through the demon. With a dusty shriek the demon vanished, the violence of its exit from this dimension splattering Alec with a fine rain of ash.
Alec? Magnus was staring at him.
He had dispatched the remaining

Iblis demons, and the square was empty but for the two of them. Did you just did you just save my life?
Alec knew he ought to say something like, Of course, because
Im a Shadowhunter and thats what we do, or Thats my job. Jace would have said something like that. Jace always knew the right thing to say.
But the words that actually came out of Alecs mouth were quite differentand sounded petulant, even to his own ears. You never called me back, he said. I called you so

many times and you never called me back. Magnus looked at Alec as if hed lost his mind. Your city is under attack, he said. The wards have broken, and the streets are full of demons. And you want to know why
I haven t called you?
Alec set his jaw in a stubborn line. I want to know why you havent called me back.
Magnus threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of utter exasperation. Alec noted with

interest that when he did it, a few sparks escaped from his fingertips, like fireflies escaping from a jar.
You re an idiot.
I s that why you didnt call me?
Because I m an idiot?
No. Magnus strode toward him. I didnt call you because Im tired of you only wanting me around when you need something. Im tired of watching you be in love with someone elsesomeone, incidentally, who will never love you back. Not the way I do.

You love me?
You stupid Nephilim, Magnus said patiently. Why else am I here? Why else would I have spent the past few weeks patching up all your moronic friends every time they got hurt?
And getting you out of every ridiculous situation you found yourself in? Not to mention helping you win a battle against Valentine.
And all completely free of charge!
I hadnt looked at it that way, Alec admitted. Of course not. You never looked at

it in any way. Magnuss cat eyes shone with anger. Im seven hundred years old, Alexander. I know when something isnt going to work. You wont even admit I exist to your parents. Alec stared at him. Youre seven hundred years old?
Well, Magnus amended, eight hundred. But I don t look it. Anyway, you re missing the point. The point is
But Alec never found out what the point was because at that moment a dozen more Iblis demons flooded

into the square. He felt his jaw drop. Damn it.
Magnus followed his gaze. The demons were already fanning out into a half circle around them, their yellow eyes glowing. Way to change the subject, Lightwood.
Tell you what. Alec reached for a second seraph blade. We live through this, and I promise Ill introduce you to my whole family.
Magnus raised his hands, his fingers shining with individual azure flames. They lit his grin with a fiery

blue glow. It s a deal.

11

ALL THE HOST OF HELL

Valentine, Jace breathed. His face was white as he stared down at the city. Through the layers of smoke, Clary thought she could almost glimpse the narrow warren

of city streets, choked with running figures, tiny black ants darting desperately to and fro but she looked again and there was nothing, nothing but the thick clouds of black vapor and the stench of flame and smoke.
You think Valentine did this? The smoke was bitter in Clarys throat. It looks like a fire. Maybe it started on its own
The North Gate is open. Jace pointed toward something Clary could barely make out, given the distance and the distorting smoke.

Its never left open. And the demon towers have lost their light. The wards must be down. He drew a seraph blade from his belt, clutching it so tightly his knuckles turned the color of ivory. I have to get over there.
A knot of dread tightened Clarys throat. Simon
Theyll have evacuated him from the
Gard. Dont worry, Clary. Hes probably better off than most down there. The demons arent likely to bother him. They tend to leave

Downworlders alone.
Im sorry, Clary whispered. The
Lightwoods Alec Isabelle
Jahoel, Jace said, and the angel blade flared up, bright as daylight in his bandaged left hand. Clary, I want you to stay here. Ill come back for you. The anger that had been in his eyes since theyd left the manor had evaporated. He was all soldier now. She shook her head. No. I want to go with you.
Clary He broke off, stiffening all

over. A moment later Clary heard it tooa heavy, rhythmic pounding, and laid over that, a sound like the crackling of an enormous bonfire. It took Clary several long moments to deconstruct the sound in her mind, to break it down as one might break down a piece of music into its component notes. It s
Werewolves. Jace was staring past her. Following his gaze, she saw them, streaming over the nearest hill like a spreading shadow, illuminated here and there with

fierce bright eyes. A pack of wolvesmore than a pack; there must have been hundreds of them, even a thousand. Their barking and baying had been the sound shed thought was a fire, and it rose up into the night, brittle and harsh.
Clarys stomach turned over. She knew werewolves. She had fought beside werewolves. But these were not Lukes wolves, not wolves whod been instructed to look after her and not to harm her. She thought of the terrible killing power of Lukes pack

when it was unleashed, and suddenly she was afraid.
Beside her Jace swore once, fiercely. There was no time to reach for another weapon; he pulled her tightly against him, his free arm wrapped around her, and with his other hand he raised Jahoel high over their heads. The light of the blade was blinding. Clary gritted her teeth
And the wolves were on them. It was like a wave crashinga sudden blast of deafening noise, and a rush

of air as the first wolves in the pack broke forward and leaped there were burning eyes and gaping jawsJace dug his fingers into Clarys side And the wolves sailed by on either side of them, clearing the space where they stood by a good two feet. Clary whipped her head around in disbelief as two wolvesone sleek and brindled, the other huge and steely grayhit the ground softly behind them, paused, and kept running, without even a

backward glance. There were wolves all around them, and yet not a single wolf touched them. They raced past, a flood of shadows, their coats reflecting moonlight in flashes of silver so that they almost seemed to be a single, moving river of shapes thundering toward Jace and Claryand then parting around them like water around a stone. The two Shadowhunters might as well have been statues for all the attention the lycanthropes paid them as they hurtled by, their jaws

gaping, their eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.
And then they were gone. Jace turned to watch the last of the wolves pass by and race to catch up with its companions. There was silence again now, only the very faint sounds of the city in the distance. Jace let go of Clary, lowering
Jahoel as he did so. Are you all right? What happened? she whispered.
Those werewolvesthey just went

right by us
Theyre going to the city. To
Alicante. He took a second seraph blade from his belt and held it out to her. You ll need this.
You re not leaving me here, then?
No point. Its not safe anywhere. But
He hesitated. You ll be careful?
Ill be careful, Clary said. What do we do now?
Jace looked down at Alicante, burning below them. Now we run.

It was never easy to keep up with
Jace, and now, when he was running nearly flat out, it was almost impossible. Clary sensed that he was in fact restraining himself, cutting back his speed to let her catch up, and that it cost him something to do it.
The road flattened out at the base of the hill and curved through a stand of high, thickly branched trees, creating the illusion of a tunnel.

When Clary came out the other side, she found herself standing before the North Gate. Through the arch
Clary could see a confusion of smoke and leaping flames. Jace stood in the gateway, waiting for her. He was holding Jahoel in one hand and another seraph blade in the other, but even their combined light was lost against the greater brightness of the burning city behind him. The guards, she panted, racing up to him. Why aren t they here?

At least one of them is over in that stand of trees. Jace jerked his chin in the direction theyd come from. In pieces. No, dont look. He glanced down. Youre holding your seraph blade wrong. Hold it like this. He showed her. And you need to name it. Cassiel would be a good one.
Cassiel, Clary repeated, and the light of the blade flared up.
Jace looked at her soberly. I wish
Id had time to train you for this. Of course, by all rights, no one with as little training as you should be able

to use a seraph blade at all. It surprised me before, but now that we know what Valentine did
Clary very much did not want to talk about what Valentine had done.
Or maybe you were just worried that if you did train me properly, Id turn out to be better than you, she said. The ghost of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. Whatever happens, Clary, he said, looking at her through Jahoels light, stay with me. You understand? He held her

gaze, his eyes demanding a promise from her.
For some reason the memory of kissing him in the grass at the
Wayland manor rose up in her mind.
It seemed like a million years ago.
Like something that had happened to someone else. I ll stay with you.
Good. He looked away, releasing her. Let s go.
They moved slowly through the gate, side by side. As they entered the city, she became aware of the noise of battle as if for the first

timea wall of sound made up of human screams and nonhuman howls, the sounds of smashing glass and the crackle of fire. It made the blood sing in her ears.
The courtyard just past the gate was empty. There were huddled shapes scattered here and there on the cobblestones; Clary tried not to look at them too hard. She wondered how it was that you could tell someone was dead even from a distance, without looking too closely. Dead bodies didnt

resemble unconscious ones; it was as if you could sense that something had fled from them, that some essential spark was now missing.
Jace hurried them across the courtyardClary could tell he didnt like the open, unprotected space muchand down one of the streets that led off it. There was more wreckage here. Shop windows had been smashed and their contents looted and strewn around the street.
There was a smell in the air tooa rancid, thick, garbage smell. Clary

knew that smell. It meant demons.
This way, Jace hissed. They ducked down another, narrower street. A fire was burning in an upper floor of one of the houses lining the road, though neither of the buildings on either side of it seemed to have been touched. Clary was oddly reminded of photos shed seen of the
Blitz in London, where destruction had rained down haphazardly from the sky.
Looking up, she saw that the fortress above the city was

wreathed in a funnel of black smoke. The Gard.
I told you, theyll have evacuated
Jace broke off as they came out from the narrow street into a larger thoroughfare. There were bodies in the road here, several of them.
Some were small bodies. Children.
Jace ran forward, Clary following more hesitantly. There were three, she saw as they got closernone of them, she thought with guilty relief, old enough to be Max. Beside them was the corpse of an older man, his

arms still thrown wide as if hed been protecting the children with his own body.
Jaces expression was hard.
Clary turn around. Slowly.
Clary turned. Just behind her was a broken shop window. There had been cakes in the display at some pointa tower of them covered in bright icing. They were scattered on the ground now among the smashed glass, and there was blood on the cobblestones too, mixing with the icing in long pinkish streaks. But

that wasnt what had put the note of warning into
Jaces
voice.
Something was crawling out of the windowsomething formless and huge and slimy. Something equipped with a double row of teeth running the length of its oblong body, which was smeared with icing and dusted with broken glass like a layer of glittering sugar.
The demon flopped down out of the window onto the cobblestones and began to slither toward them.
Something about its oozing,

boneless motion made bile rise up in the back of Clarys throat. She backed up, almost knocking into
Jace.
Its a Behemoth demon, he said, staring at the slithering thing in front of them. They eat everything.
Do they eat ?
People? Yes, Jace said. Get behind me. She took a few steps back to stand behind him, her eyes on the
Behemoth. There was something about it that repulsed her even more

than the demons shed encountered before. It looked like a blind slug with teeth, and the way it oozed But at least it didnt move fast. Jace shouldnt have much trouble killing it. As if spurred on by her thought,
Jace darted forward, slashing down with his blazing seraph blade. It sank into the Behemoths back with a sound like overripe fruit being stepped on. The demon seemed to spasm, then shudder and reform, suddenly several feet away from

where it had been before.
Jace drew Jahoel back. I was afraid of that, he muttered. Its only semicorporeal. Hard to kill.
Then dont. Clary tugged at his sleeve. At least it doesnt move fast.
Let s get out of here.
Jace let her pull him back reluctantly. They turned to run in the direction they d come from
And the demon was there again, in front of them, blocking the street. It seemed to have grown bigger, and a low noise was coming from it, a

sort of angry insectile chittering.
I dont think it wants us to leave,
Jace said.
Jace
But he was already running at the thing, sweeping Jahoel down in a long arc meant to decapitate, but the thing just shuddered again and reformed, this time behind him. It reared up, showing a ridged underside like a cockroachs. Jace whirled and brought Jahoel down, slicing into the creatures midsection. Green fluid, thick as

mucus, spurted over the blade.
Jace stepped back, his face twisting in disgust. The Behemoth was still making the same chittering noise.
More fluid was spurting from it, but it didnt seem hurt. It was moving forward purposefully.
Jace! Clary called. Your blade
He looked down. The Behemoth demons mucus had coated Jahoels blade, dulling its flame. As he stared, the seraph blade spluttered and went out like a fire doused by sand. He dropped the weapon with

a curse before any of the demons slime could touch him.
The Behemoth reared back again, ready to strike. Jace ducked backand then Clary was there, darting between him and the demon, her seraph blade swinging. She jabbed the creature just below its row of teeth, the blade sinking into its mass with a wet, ugly sound.
She jerked back, gasping, as the demon went into another spasm. It seemed to take the creature a certain amount of energy to reform each

time it was wounded. If they could just wound it enough times
Something moved at the edge of
Clarys vision. A flicker of gray and brown, moving fast. They werent alone in the street. Jace turned, his eyes widening. Clary! he shouted.
Behind you!
Clary whirled, Cassiel blazing in her grip, just as the wolf launched itself at her, its lips drawn back in a fierce snarl, its jaws gaping wide.
Jace shouted something; Clary didnt know what, but she saw the wild

look in his eyes, even as she threw herself sideways, out of the path of the wolf. It sailed by her, claws outstretched, body arcedand struck its target, the Behemoth, knocking it flat to the ground before tearing at it with bared teeth.
The demon screamed, or as close as it could come to screaminga highpitched whining sound, like air being let out of a balloon. The wolf was on top of it, pinning it, its muzzle buried deep in the demons slimy hide.
The
Behemoth

shuddered and thrashed in a desperate effort to reform and heal its injuries, but the wolf wasnt giving it a chance. Its claws sunk deeply into demon flesh, the wolf tore chunks of jellylike flesh out of the Behemoths body with its teeth, ignoring the spurting green fluid that fountained around it. The Behemoth began a last, desperate series of convulsive spasms, its serrated jaws clacking together as it thrashedand then it was gone, only a viscous puddle of green fluid

steaming on the cobblestones where it had been.
The wolf made a noisea sort of satisfied gruntand turned to regard
Jace and Clary with eyes turned silver by the moonlight. Jace pulled another blade from his belt and held it high, drawing a fiery line on the air between themselves and the werewolf. The wolf snarled, the hair rising stiffly along its spine.
Clary caught at his arm. No don t.
It s a werewolf, Clary

It killed the demon for us! Its on our side! She broke away from Jace before he could hold her back, approaching the wolf slowly, her hands out, palms flat. She spoke in a low, calm voice: Im sorry. Were sorry. We know you dont want to hurt us. She paused, hands still outstretched, as the wolf regarded her with blank eyes. Whowho are you? she asked. She looked back over her shoulder at Jace and frowned. Can you put that thing away? Jace looked as if he were about to tell her in no uncertain terms that you didnt just put away a seraph blade that was blazing in the presence of danger, but before he could say anything, the wolf gave another low growl and began to rise. Its legs elongated, its spine straightening, its jaw retracting. In a few seconds a girl stood in front of thema girl wearing a stained white shift dress, her curling hair tied back in multiple braids, a scar banding her throat.

Who are you? the girl mimicked in disgust. I cant believe you didnt recognize me. It s not like all wolves look exactly alike. Humans.
Clary let out a breath of relief.
Maia!
Its me. Saving your butts, as usual.
She grinned. She was spattered with blood and ichorit hadnt been that visible against her wolfs coat, but the black and red streaks stood out startlingly against her brown skin.
She put her hand against her stomach. And gross, by the way. I

cant believe I munched all that demon. I hope I m not allergic.
But what are you doing here? Clary demanded. I mean, not that were not glad to see you, but
Dont you know? Maia looked from
Jace to Clary in puzzlement. Luke brought us here.
Luke? Clary stared. Luke is here?
Maia nodded. He got in touch with his pack, and a bunch of others, everyone he could think of, and told us all we had to come to Idris. We flew to the border and traveled

from there. Some of the other packs, they Portaled into the forest and met us there. Luke said the Nephilim were going to need our help. Her voice trailed off. Did you not know about this?
No, said Jace, and I doubt the Clave did either. Theyre not big on taking help from Downworlders.
Maia straightened up, her eyes sparking with anger. If it hadnt been for us, you all would have been slaughtered. There was no one protecting the city when we got here

Dont, Clary said, shooting an angry look at Jace. Im really, really grateful to you for saving us, Maia, and Jace is too, even though hes so stubborn that hed rather jam a seraph blade through his eyeball than say so. And dont say you hope he does, she added hastily, seeing the look on the other girls face, because thats really not helpful.
Right now we need to get to the
Lightwoods house, and then I have to find Luke
The Lightwoods? I think theyre in

the Accords Hall. Thats where weve been bringing everyone. I saw
Alec there, at least, Maia said, and that warlock, too, the one with the spiky hair. Magnus.
If Alec is there, the others must be too. The look of relief on Jaces face made Clary want to put her hand on his shoulder. She didnt. Clever to bring everyone to the Hall; its warded. He slid the glowing seraph blade into his belt. Come on let s go.

Clary recognized the inside of the
Hall of Accords the moment she entered it. It was the place she had dreamed about, where she had been dancing with Simon and then Jace.
This was where I was trying to send myself when I went through the Portal, she thought, looking around at the pale white walls and the high ceiling with its enormous glass skylight through which she could see the night sky. The room,

though very large, seemed somehow smaller and dingier than it had in her dream. The mermaid fountain was still there in the center of the room, spurting water, but it looked tarnished, and the steps that led up to it were crowded with people, many sporting bandages. The space was full of Shadowhunters, people hurrying here and there, sometimes stopping to peer into the faces of other passersby as if hoping to find a friend or a relative. The floor was filthy with dirt, tracked with

smeared mud and blood.
What struck Clary more than anything else was the silence. If this had been the aftermath of some disaster in the mundane world, there would have been people shouting, screaming, calling out to one another. But the room was almost soundless. People sat quietly, some with their heads in their hands, some staring into space. Children huddled close to their parents, but none of them were crying.
She noticed something else, too, as

she made her way into the room,
Jace and Maia on either side of her.
There was a group of scruffylooking people standing by the fountain in a ragged circle. They stood somehow apart from the rest of the crowd, and when Maia caught sight of them and smiled, Clary realized why.
My pack! Maia exclaimed. She darted toward them, pausing only to glance back over her shoulder at
Clary as she went. Im sure Lukes around here somewhere, she called,

and vanished into the group, which closed around her. Clary wondered, for a moment, what would happen if she followed the werewolf girl into the circle. Would they welcome her as Lukes friend, or just be suspicious of her as another
Shadowhunter?
Dont, Jace said, as if reading her mind. It s not a good
But Clary never found out what it wasnt, because there was a cry of
Jace!
and
Alec
appeared, breathless from pushing his way

through the crowd to get to them.
His dark hair was a mess and there was blood on his clothes, but his eyes were bright with a mixture of relief and anger. He grabbed Jace by the front of his jacket. What happened to you?
Jace looked affronted. What happened to me?
Alec shook him, not lightly. You said you were going for a walk!
What kind of walk takes six hours?
A long one? Jace suggested.
I could kill you, Alec said,

releasing his grip on Jaces clothes.
I m seriously thinking about it.
That would kind of defeat the point, though, wouldnt it? said Jace. He glanced around.
Where
is everyone? Isabelle, and
Isabelle and Max are back at the
Penhallows, with Sebastian, said
Alec. Mom and Dad are on their way there to get them. And Alines here, with her parents, but shes not talking much. She had a pretty bad time with a Rezkor demon down by one of the canals. But Izzy saved

her.
And Simon? Clary said anxiously.
Have you seen Simon? He should have come down with the others from the Gard.
Alec shook his head. No, I haventbut I havent seen the
Inquisitor, either, or the Consul.
Hed probably be with one of them.
Maybe they stopped somewhere else, or He broke off, as a murmur swept the room; Clary saw the group of lycanthropes look up, alert as a group of hunting dogs scenting

game. She turned
And saw Luke, tired and bloodstained, coming through the double doors of the Hall.
She ran toward him. Forgetting how upset shed been when hed left, and forgetting how angry hed been with her for bringing them here, forgetting everything but how glad she was to see him. He looked surprised for a moment as she barreled toward himthen he smiled, and put his arms out, and picked her up as he hugged her, the way hed

done when shed been very small.
He smelled like blood and flannel and smoke, and for a moment she closed her eyes, thinking of the way
Alec had grabbed onto Jace the moment hed seen him in the Hall, because that was what you did with family when youd been worried about them, you grabbed them and held on to them and told them how much theyd pissed you off, and it was okay, because no matter how angry you got, they still belonged to you. And what she had said to

Valentine was true. Luke was her family. He set her back down on her feet, wincing a little as he did so.
Careful, he said. A Croucher demon got me in the shoulder down by
Merryweather Bridge. He put his hands on her shoulders, studying her face. But you re all right, aren t you?
Well, this is a touching scene, said a cold voice. Isn t it?
Clary turned, Luke s hand still on her shoulder. Behind her stood a tall man in a blue cloak that swirled

around his feet as he moved toward them. His face under the hood of his cloak was the face of a carved statue: high-cheekboned with eaglesharp features and heavy-lidded eyes. Lucian, he said, without looking at Clary. I might have expected youd be the one behind this this invasion.
Invasion? Luke echoed, and suddenly, there was his pack of lyncanthropes, standing behind him.
They had moved into place so quickly and silently it was as if

theyd appeared from out of nowhere. Were not the ones who invaded your city, Consul. That was
Valentine. We re just trying to help.
The Clave doesnt need help, the
Consul snapped. Not from the likes of you. Youre breaking the Law just by entering the Glass City, wards or no wards. You must know that.
I think its fairly clear that the Clave does need help. If we hadnt come when we did, many more of you would now be dead. Luke glanced around the room; several groups of

Shadowhunters had moved toward them, drawn to see what was going on. Some of them met Lukes gaze head-on; others dropped their eyes, as if ashamed. But none of them,
Clary thought with a sudden surge of surprise, looked angry. I did it to prove a point, Malachi.
Malachis voice was cold. And what point might that be?
That you need us, Luke said. To defeat Valentine, you need our help.
Not just the help of lycanthropes, but of all Downworlders.

What can Downworlders do against
Valentine?
Malachi asked scornfully. Lucian, you know better than that. You were one of us once.
We have always stood alone against all perils and guarded the world from evil. We will meet Valentines power now with a power of our own. The Downworlders would do well to stay out of our way. We are
Nephilim; we fight our own battles.
Thats not precisely true, is it? said a velvety voice. It was Magnus
Bane, wearing a long and glittering

coat, multiple hoops in his ears, and a roguish expression. Clary had no idea where hed come from. You lot have used the help of warlocks on more than one occasion in the past, and paid handsomely for it too.
Malachi scowled. I dont remember the Clave inviting you into the Glass
City, Magnus Bane.
They didnt, Magnus said. Your wards are down.
Really? the Consuls voice dripped sarcasm. I hadn t noticed.
Magnus looked concerned. Thats

terrible. Someone should have told you. He glanced at Luke. Tell him the wards are down.
Luke looked exasperated. Malachi, for Gods sake, the Downworlders are strong; we have numbers. I told you, we can help.
The Consuls voice rose. And I told you, we dont need or want your help! Magnus, Clary slipped silently to his side and whispered. A small crowd had gathered, watching Luke and the Consul fight; she was fairly

sure no one was paying attention to her. Come talk to me. While theyre all too busy squabbling to notice.
Magnus gave her a quick questioning look, nodded, and drew her away, cutting through the crowd like a can opener. None of the assembled Shadowhunters or werewolves seemed to want to stand in the way of a six-foot-tall warlock with cat eyes and a manic grin. He hustled her into a quieter corner. What is it?
I got the book. Clary drew it from

the pocket of her bedraggled coat, leaving smeared fingerprints on the ivory cover. I went to Valentines manor. It was in the library like you said. And She broke off, thinking of the imprisoned angel. Never mind.
She offered him the Book of the
White. Here. Take it.
Magnus plucked the book from her grasp with a long-fingered hand. He flipped through the pages, his eyes widening. This is even better than
Id heard it was, he announced gleefully. I cant wait to get started

on these spells.
Magnus! Clarys sharp voice brought him back down to earth. My mom first. You promised.
And I abide by my promises. The warlock nodded gravely, but there was something in his eyes, something Clary didn t quite trust.
Theres something else, too, she added, thinking of Simon. Before you go
Clary! A voice spoke, breathless, at her shoulder. She turned in surprise to see Sebastian standing beside

her. He was wearing gear, and it looked right on him somehow, she thought, as if he were born to wear it. Where everyone else looked bloodstained and disheveled, he was unmarkedexcept for a double line of scratches that ran the length of his left cheek, as if something had clawed at him with a taloned hand. I was worried about you. I went by
Amatiss house on the way here, but you werent there, and she said she hadn t seen you
Well, Im fine. Clary glanced from

Sebastian to Magnus, who was holding the Book of the White against his chest. Sebastians angular eyebrows were raised. Are you?
Your face She reached up to touch his injuries. The scratches were still oozing a trace amount of blood.
Sebastian shrugged, brushing her hand away gently. A she-demon got me near the Penhallows. Im fine, though. What s going on?
Nothing. I was just talking to
MaRagnor, Clary said hastily, realizing with a sudden horror that

Sebastian had no idea who Magnus actually was.
Maragnor? Sebastian arched his eyebrows. Okay, then. He glanced curiously at the Book of the White.
Clary wished Magnus would put it awaythe way he was holding it, its gilded lettering was clearly visible.
What s that?
Magnus studied him for a moment, his cat eyes considering. A spell book, he said finally. Nothing that would be of interest to a
Shadowhunter.

Actually, my aunt collects spell books. Can I see? Sebastian held his hand out, but before Magnus could refuse, Clary heard someone call her name, and Jace and Alec descended on them, clearly none too pleased to see Sebastian.
I thought I told you to stay with Max and Isabelle! Alec snapped at him.
Did you leave them alone?
Slowly Sebastian s eyes moved from
Magnus to Alec. Your parents came home, just like you said they would.
His voice was cold. They sent me

ahead to tell you they were all right, and so are Izzy and Max. Theyre on their way.
Well, said Jace, his voice heavy with sarcasm, thanks for passing on that news the second you got here.
I didnt see you the second I got here, said Sebastian. I saw Clary.
Because you were looking for her.
Because I needed to talk to her.
Alone. He caught Clarys eyes again, and the intensity in them gave her pause. She wanted to tell him not to look at her like that when Jace was

there, but that would sound unreasonable and crazy, and besides, maybe he actually had something important to tell her.
Clary?
She nodded. All right. Just for a second, she said, and saw Jaces expression change: He didnt scowl, but his face went very still. Ill be right back, she added, but Jace didn t look at her. He was looking at
Sebastian.
Sebastian took her by the wrist and drew her away from the others,

pulling her toward the thickest part of the crowd. She glanced back over her shoulder. They were all watching her, even Magnus. She saw him shake his head once, very slightly. She dug her heels in. Sebastian.
Stop. What is it? What do you have to tell me?
He turned to face her, still holding her wrist. I thought we could go outside, he said. Talk in private
No. I want to stay here, she said, and heard her own voice waver

slightly, as if she werent sure. But she was sure. She yanked her wrist back, pulling it out of his grasp.
What is going on with you?
That book, he said. That Fell was holdingthe Book of the Whitedo you know where he got it?
That s what you wanted to talk to me about? It s an extraordinarily powerful spell book, explained Sebastian. And one thatwell, that a lot of people have been looking for for a long time.
She blew out an exasperated breath.

All right, Sebastian, look, she said.
Thats not Ragnor Fell. Thats
Magnus Bane.
That s Magnus Bane? Sebastian spun around and stared before turning back to Clary with an accusatory look in his eyes. And you knew all along, right? You know Bane.
Yes, and Im sorry. But he didnt want me to tell you. And he was the only one who could help me save my mother. Thats why I gave him the Book of the White. Theres a

spell in there that might help her.
Something
flashed behind Sebastians eyes, and Clary had the same feeling shed had after hed kissed her: a sudden wrench of wrongness, as if shed taken a step forward expecting to find solid ground under her feet and instead plunged into empty space. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. You gave the bookthe Book of the
Whiteto
a warlock? A filthy
Downworlder?
Clary went very still. I cant believe

you just said that. She looked down at the place where Sebastians hand encircled her wrist. Magnus is my friend. Sebastian loosened his grip on her wrist, just a fraction. Im sorry, he said. I shouldnt have said that. Its justhow well do you know Magnus
Bane?
Better than I know you, Clary said coldly. She glanced back toward the place shed left Magnus standing with Jace and Alecand a shock of surprise went through her. Magnus

was gone. Jace and Alec stood by themselves, watching her and
Sebastian. She could sense the heat of Jaces disapproval like an open oven. Sebastian followed her gaze, his eyes darkening. Well enough to know where he went with your book? Its not my book. I gave it to him,
Clary snapped, but there was a cold feeling in her stomach, remembering that shadowed look in Magnuss eyes. And I dont see what business

it is of yours, either. Look, I appreciate that you offered to help me find Ragnor Fell yesterday, but youre really freaking me out now.
I m going back to my friends.
She started to turn away, but he moved to block her. Im sorry. I shouldnt have said what I did. Its justtheres more to all this than you know. So tell me.
Come outside with me. Ill tell you everything. His tone was anxious, worried. Clary, please.

She shook her head. I have to stay here. I have to wait for Simon. It was partly true, and partly an excuse. Alec told me theyd be bringing the prisoners here
Sebastian was shaking his head.
Clary, didnt anyone tell you? They left the prisoners behind. I heard
Malachi say so. The city was attacked, and they evacuated the
Gard, but they didnt get the prisoners out. Malachi said they were both in league with Valentine anyway. That there was no way

letting them out wouldnt be too much of a risk.
Clarys head seemed to be full of fog; she felt dizzy, and a little sick.
That can t be true.
It is true, Sebastian said. I swear it is. His grip on Clarys wrist tightened again, and she swayed on her feet. I can take you up there. Up to the Gard. I can help you get him out. But you have to promise me that you ll She doesnt have to promise you anything, Jace said. Let her go,

Sebastian.
Sebastian, startled, loosened his grip on Clarys wrist. She pulled it free, turning to see Jace and Alec, both scowling. Jaces hand was resting lightly on the hilt of the seraph blade at his waist.
Clary can do what she wants,
Sebastian said. He wasnt scowling, but there was an odd, fixed look about his face that was somehow worse. And right now she wants to come with me to save her friend.
The friend you got thrown in prison.

Alec blanched at that, but Jace only shook his head. I dont like you, he said thoughtfully. I know everyone else likes you, Sebastian, but I dont.
Maybe its that you work so hard to make people like you. Maybe Im just a contrary bastard. But I dont like you, and I dont like the way you were grabbing at my sister. If she wants to go up to the Gard and look for Simon, fine. Shell go with us.
Not you.
Sebastians fixed expression didnt change. I think that should be her

choice, he said. Don t you?
They both looked at Clary. She looked past them, toward Luke, still arguing with Malachi.
I want to go with my brother, she said. Something flickered behind
Sebastians eyessomething that was there and gone too quickly for Clary to identify it, though she felt a chill at the base of her neck, as if a cold hand had touched her there. Of course you do, he said, and stepped aside. It was Alec who moved first, pushing Jace ahead of him, making him walk. They were partway to the doors when she realized that her wrist was hurting stinging as if it had been burned. Looking down, she expected to see a mark on her wrist, where Sebastian had gripped her, but there was nothing there. Just a smear of blood on her sleeve where she had touched the cut on his face.
Frowning, with her wrist still stinging, she drew her sleeve down and hurried to catch up with the

others.

12

DE PROFUNDIS

Simons hands were black with blood. He had tried yanking the bars out of the window and the cell door, but touching any of them for very long

seared bleeding score marks into his palms. Eventually he collapsed, gasping, on the floor, and stared numbly at his hands as the injuries swiftly healed, the lesions closing up and the blackened skin flaking away like in a video on fastforward.
On the other side of the cell wall,
Samuel was praying. If, when evil cometh upon us, as the sword, judgment, or pestilence, or famine, we stand before this house, and in thy presence, and cry unto thee in

our affliction, then thou wilt hear and help
Simon knew he couldnt pray. Hed tried it before, and the name of God burned his mouth and choked his throat. He won dered why he could think the words but not say them.
And why he could stand in the noonday sun and not die but he couldn t say his last prayers.
Smoke had begun to drift down the corridor like a purposeful ghost. He could smell burning and hear the crackle of fire spreading out of

control, but he felt oddly detached, far from everything. It was strange to become a vampire, to be presented with what could only be described as an eternal life, and then to die anyway when you were sixteen. Simon! The voice was faint, but his hearing caught it over the pop and crackle of growing flames. The smoke in the corridor had presaged heat; the heat was here now, pressing against him like an oppressive wall. Simon!

The voice was Clarys. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what hed most loved during life to carry him through the process of death.
Simon, you stupid idiot! Im over here! At the window!
Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up. Through the thickening smoke he saw something white moving against the bars of the window. As he came closer, the

white objects evolved into hands gripping the bars. He leaped onto the cot, yelling over the sound of the fire. Clary?
Oh, thank God. One of the hands reached out, squeezed his shoulder.
We re going to get you out of here.
How? Simon demanded, not unreasonably, but there was the sound of a scuffle and Clarys hands vanished, replaced a moment later by another pair. These were bigger hands, unquestionably masculine, with scarred knuckles and thin

pianist s fingers.
Hang on. Jaces voice was calm, confident, for all the world as if they were chatting at a party instead of through the bars of a rapidly burning dungeon. You might want to stand back.
Startled into obedience, Simon moved aside. Jaces hands tightened on the bars, his knuckles whitening alarmingly. There was a groaning crack, and the square of bars jerked free of the stone that held it and clattered to the ground beside the

bed. Stone dust rained down in a choking white cloud.
Jaces face appeared at the empty square of window. Simon. Come
ON. He reached down.
Simon reached up and caught Jaces hands. He felt himself hauled up, and then he was grabbing at the edge of the window, lifting himself through the narrow square like a snake wriggling through a tunnel. A second later he was sprawled out on damp grass, staring up at a circle of worried faces above his. Jace,

Clary, and Alec. They were all looking down at him in concern.
You look like crap, vampire, Jace said. What happened to your hands?
Simon sat up. The injuries to his hands had healed, but they were still black where hed grabbed at the bars of his cell. Before he could reply, Clary caught him in a sudden, fierce hug.
Simon, she breathed. I cant believe it. I didnt even know you were here.
I thought you were in New York until last night

Yeah, well, Simon said, I didnt know you were here either. He glared at Jace over her shoulder. In fact, I think I was specifically told that you weren t.
I never said that, Jace pointed out. I just didnt correct you when you were, you know, wrong. Anyway, I just saved you from being burned to death, so I figure youre not allowed to be mad.
Burned to death. Simon pulled away from Clary and stared around. They were in a square garden,

surrounded on two sides by the walls of the fortress and on the other two sides by a heavy growth of trees. The trees had been cleared where a gravel path led down the hill to the cityit was lined with witchlight torches, but only a few were burning, their light dim and erratic. He looked up at the Gard.
Seen from this angle, you could barely even tell there was a fireblack smoke stained the sky overhead, and the light in a few windows seemed unnaturally bright,

but the stone walls hid their secret well. Samuel, he said. We have to get
Samuel out.
Clary looked baffled. Who?
I wasnt the only person down there.
Samuel he was in the next cell.
The heap of rags I saw through the window? Jace recalled.
Yeah. Hes kind of weird, but hes a good guy. We cant leave him down there. Simon scrambled to his feet.
Samuel? Samuel!
There was no answer. Simon ran to

the low, barred window beside the one hed just crawled through.
Through the bars he could see only swirling smoke. Samuel! Are you in there? Something moved inside the smokesomething hunched and dark.
Samuels voice, roughened by smoke, rose hoarsely. Leave me alone! Go away!
Samuel! Youll die down there.
Simon yanked at the bars. Nothing happened. No! Leave me alone! I want to stay!

Simon looked desperately around to see Jace beside him. Move, Jace said, and when Simon leaned to the side, he kicked out with a booted foot. It connected with the bars, which tore free violently from their mooring and tumbled into Samuels cell. Samuel gave a hoarse shout.
Samuel! Are you all right? A vision of Samuel being brained by the falling bars rose up before Simons eyes. Samuels voice rose to a scream.
GO AWAY!

Simon looked sideways at Jace. I think he means it.
Jace shook his blond head in exasperation. You had to make a crazy jail friend, didnt you? You couldnt just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do? Without waiting for an answer, Jace got down on the ground and crawled through the window. Jace! Clary yelped, and she and
Alec hurried over, but Jace was already through the window,

dropping into the cell below. Clary shot Simon an angry look. How could you let him do that?
Well, he couldnt leave that guy down there to die, Alec said unexpectedly, though he looked a little anxious himself. Its Jace were talking about here
He broke off as two hands rose up out of the smoke. Alec grabbed one and Simon the other, and together they hauled Samuel like a limp sack of potatoes out of the cell and deposited him on the lawn. A

moment later Simon and Clary were grabbing Jaces hands and pulling him out, though he was considerably less limp and swore when they accidentally banged his head on the ledge. He shook them off, crawling the rest of the way onto the grass himself and then collapsing onto his back. Ouch, he said, staring up at the sky. I think I pulled something.
He sat up and glanced over at
Samuel. Is he okay?
Samuel sat hunched on the ground, his hands splayed over his face. He

was rocking back and forth soundlessly. I think theres something wrong with him, said Alec. He reached down to touch Samuels shoulder. Samuel jerked away, almost toppling over.
Leave me alone, he said, his voice cracking. Please. Leave me alone,
Alec.
Alec went still all over. What did you say?
He said to leave him alone, said
Simon, but Alec wasnt looking at him, didnt even appear to notice he

had spoken. He was looking at
Jacewho, suddenly very pale, had already begun to rise to his feet.
Samuel, Alec said. His tone was strangely harsh. Take your hands away from your face.
No. Samuel tucked his chin down, his shoulders shaking. No, please.
No.
Alec! Simon protested. Cant you see he isn t well?
Clary caught at Simons sleeve.
Simon, there s something wrong.
Her eyes were on Jacewhen werent

they?as he moved to stare down at the crouched figure of Samuel. The tips of Jaces fingers were bleeding where hed scraped them on the window ledge, and when he moved to push his hair back from his eyes, they left bloody tracks across his cheek. He didnt seem to notice. His eyes were wide, his mouth a flat, angry line. Shadowhunter, he said.
His voice was deathly clear. Show us your face.
Samuel hesitated, then dropped his hands. Simon had never seen his

face before, and he hadnt realized how gaunt Samuel was, or how old he looked. His face was halfcovered by a thatch of thick gray beard, the eyes swimming in dark hollows, his cheeks grooved with lines. But for all that, he was still somehow strangely familiar.
Alecs lips moved, but no sound came out. It was Jace who spoke.
Hodge, he said.

Hodge? Simon echoed in confusion.
But it cant be. Hodge wasand
Samuel, he can t be
Well, thats just what Hodge does, apparently, Alec said bitterly. He makes you think hes someone hes not. But he said, Simon began. Clarys grip tightened on his sleeve, and the words died on his lips. The expression on Hodges face was enough. Not guilt, really, or even horror at being discovered, but a

terrible grief that was hard to look at for long.
Jace, Hodge said very quietly.
Alec I m so sorry.
Jace moved then the way he moved when he was fighting, like sunlight across water. He was standing in front of Hodge with a knife out, the sharp tip of it aimed at his old tutor s throat. The reflected glow of the fire slid off the blade. I dont want your apologies. I want a reason why
I shouldnt kill you right now, right here. Jace. Alec looked alarmed. Jace, wait. There was a sudden roar as part of the Gard roof went up in orange tongues of flame. Heat shimmered in the air and lit the night. Clary could see every blade of grass on the ground, every line on Hodges thin and dirty face.
No, Jace said. His blank expression as he gazed down at Hodge reminded Clary of another masklike face. Valentines. You knew what my father did to me, didnt you? You

knew all his dirty secrets.
Alec
was looking uncomprehendingly from Jace to his old tutor. What are you talking about? What s going on?
Hodge s face creased. Jonathan
Youve always known, and you never said anything. All those years in the Institute, and you never said anything. Hodges mouth sagged. II wasnt sure, he whispered. When you havent seen a child since he was a babyI wasnt sure who you were,

much less what you were.
Jace? Alec was looking from his best friend to his tutor, his blue eyes dismayed, but neither of the two was paying attention to anything but the other. Hodge looked like a man trapped in a tightening vise, his hands jerking at his sides as if with pain, his eyes darting. Clary thought of the neatly dressed man in his book-lined library who had offered her tea and kindly advice. It seemed like a thousand years ago.
I dont believe you, Jace said. You

knew Valentine wasnt dead. He must have told you
He told me nothing, Hodge gasped.
When the Lightwoods informed me they were taking in Michael
Waylands son, I hadnt heard a word from Valentine since the Uprising. I had thought he had forgotten me. Id even prayed he was dead, but I never knew. And then, the night before you arrived, Hugo came with a message for me from Valentine.
The boy is my son. Thats all it said.
He took a ragged breath. I had no

idea whether to believe him. I thought Id knowI thought Id know, just looking at you, but there was nothing, nothing, to make me sure.
And I thought that this was a trick of
Valentines, but what trick? What was he trying to do? You had no idea, that was clear enough to me, but as for Valentine s purpose
You should have told me what I was, Jace said, all in one breath, as if the words were being punched out of him. I could have done something about it, then. Killed

myself, maybe.
Hodge raised his head, looking up at Jace through his matted, filthy hair. I wasnt sure, he said again, half to himself, and in the times that
I wonderedI thought, perhaps, that upbringing might matter more than blood that you could be taught
Taught what? Not to be a monster?
Jaces voice shook, but the knife in his hand was steady. You should know better. He made a crawling coward out of you, didnt he? And you werent a helpless little kid

when he did it. You could have fought back.
Hodges eyes fell. I tried to do my best by you, he said, but even to
Clarys ears his words sounded weak. Until Valentine came back, Jace said, and then you did everything he asked of you you gave me to him like
I was a dog that had belonged to him once, that hed asked you to look after for a few years
And then you left, said Alec. You left us all. Did you really think you

could hide here, in Alicante?
I didnt come here to hide, said
Hodge, his voice lifeless. I came here to stop Valentine.
You cant expect us to believe that.
Alec sounded angry again now.
Youve always been on Valentines side. You could have chosen to turn your back on him
I could never have chosen that!
Hodges voice rose. Your parents were given their chance for a new lifeI was never given that! I was trapped in the Institute for fifteen

years
The Institute was our home! Alec said. Was it really so bad living with us being part of our family?
Not because of you. Hodges voice was ragged. I loved you children.
But you were children. And no place that you are never allowed to leave can be a home. I went weeks sometimes without speaking to another adult.
No
other
Shadowhunter would trust me. Not even your parents truly liked me; they tolerated me because they had

no choice. I could never marry.
Never have children of my own.
Never have a life. And eventually you children would have been grown and gone, and then I wouldnt even have had that. I lived in fear, as much as I lived at all.
You cant make us feel sorry for you,
Jace said. Not after what you did.
And what the hell were you afraid of, spending all your time in the library? Dust mites? We were the ones who went out and fought demons! He was afraid of Valentine, Simon said. Don t you get it
Jace shot him a venomous look.
Shut up, vampire. This isnt in any way about you.
Not Valentine exactly, Hodge said, looking at Simon for almost the first time since hed been dragged from the cell. There was something in that look that surprised Clarya tired almost-affection. My own weakness where Valentine was concerned. I knew he would return someday. I knew he would make a bid for

power again, a bid to rule the
Clave. And I knew what he could offer me. Freedom from my curse.
A life. A place in the world. I could have been a Shadowhunter again, in his world. I could never be one again in this one. There was a naked longing in his voice that was painful to hear. And I knew I would be too weak to refuse him if he offered it.
And look at the life you got, Jace spat. Rotting in the cells of the
Gard. Was it worth it, betraying us?
You know the answer to that. Hodge

sounded exhausted. Valentine took the curse off me. Hed sworn he would, and he did. I thought hed bring me back to the Circle, or what remained of it then. He didnt. Even he didnt want me. I knew there would be no place for me in his new world. And I knew Id sold out everything I did have for a lie. He looked down at his clenched, filthy hands. There was only one thing I had leftone chance to make something other than an utter waste out of my life. After I heard that

Valentine had killed the Silent
Brothersthat he had the Mortal
SwordI knew he would go after the
Mortal Glass next. I knew he needed all three of the Instruments.
And I knew the Mortal Glass was here in Idris.
Wait. Alec held up a hand. The
Mortal Glass? You mean, you know where it is? And who has it?
No one has it, said Hodge. No one could own the Mortal Glass. No
Nephilim, and no Downworlder.
You really did go crazy down there,

Jace said, jerking his chin toward the burned-out windows of the dungeons, didn t you?
Jace. Clary was looking anxiously up at the Gard, its roof crowned with a thorny net of red-gold flames. The fire is spreading. We should get out of here. We can talk down in the city
I was locked in the Institute for fifteen years, Hodge went on, as if
Clary hadnt spoken. I couldnt put so much as a hand or a foot outside. I spent all my time in the library,

researching ways to remove the curse the Clave had put on me. I l e a r n e d that only a Mortal
Instrument could reverse it. I read book after book telling the story of the mythology of the Angel, how he rose from the lake bearing the
Mortal Instruments and gave them to
Jonathan Shadowhunter, the first
Nephilim, and how there were three of them: Cup, Sword, and Mirror
We know all this, Jace interrupted, exasperated. You taught it to us.
You think you know all of it, but

you dont. As I went over and over the various versions of the histories,
I happened again and again on the same illustration, the same imageweve all seen itthe Angel rising out of the lake with the
Sword in one hand and the Cup in the other. I could never understand why the Mirror wasnt pictured.
Then I realized. The Mirror is the lake. The lake is the Mirror. They are one and the same.
Slowly Jace lowered the knife.
Lake Lyn?

Clary thought of the lake, like a mirror rising to meet her, the water shattering apart on impact. I fell in the lake when I first got here. There is something about it. Luke said it has strange properties and that the
Fair Folk call it the Mirror of
Dreams.
Exactly, Hodge began eagerly. And
I realized the Clave wasnt aware of this, that the knowledge had been lost to time. Even Valentine didnt know He was interrupted by a crashing

roar, the sound of a tower at the far end of the Gard collapsing. It sent up a fireworks display of red and glittering sparks.
Jace, Alec said, raising his head in alarm. Jace, we have to get out of here. Get up, he said to Hodge, yanking him upright by the arm. You can tell the Clave what you just told us. Hodge got shakily to his feet. What must it be like, Clary thought with a pang of unwelcome pity, to live your life ashamed not just of what

youd done but of what you were doing and of what you knew youd do again? Hodge had given up a long time ago trying to live a better life or a different one; all he wanted was not to be afraid, and so he was afraid all the time.
Come on. Alec, still gripping
Hodges arm, propelled him forward. But Jace stepped in front of them both, blocking their way.
If Valentine gets the Mortal Glass, he said, what then?
Jace, Alec said, still holding

Hodge s arm, not now
If he tells it to the Clave, well never hear it from them, Jace said. To them were just children. But Hodge owes us this. He turned on his old tutor. You said you realized you had to stop Valentine. Stop him doing what? What does the Mirror give him the power to do?
Hodge shook his head. I can t
And no lies. The knife gleamed at
Jaces side; his hand was tight on the hilt. Because maybe for every lie you tell me, Ill cut off a finger. Or

two.
Hodge cringed back, real fear in his eyes. Alec looked stricken. Jace.
No. This is what your fathers like.
It s not what you re like.
Alec, said Jace. He didn t look at his friend, but his tone was like the touch of a regretful hand. You dont really know what I m like.
Alecs eyes met Clarys across the grass. He cant imagine why Jace is acting like this, she thought. He doesnt know. She took a step foward. Jace, Alec is rightwe can

take Hodge down to the Hall and he can tell the Clave what hes just told us If hed been willing to tell the Clave, he would have done it already, Jace snapped without looking at her. The fact that he didn t proves he s a liar.
The Clave isnt to be trusted! Hodge protested desperately. There are spies in itValentines menI couldnt tell them where the Mirror is. If
Valentine found the Mirror, he would be
He never finished his sentence.

Something bright silver gleamed out in the moonlight, a nail head of light in the darkness. Alec cried out.
Hodges eyes flew wide as he staggered, clawing at his chest. As he sank backward, Clary saw why:
The hilt of a long dagger protruded from his rib cage, like the haft of an arrow bristling from its target.
Alec, leaping forward, caught his old tutor as he fell, and lowered him gently to the ground. He looked up helplessly, his face spattered with Hodge s blood. Jace, why

I didnt Jaces face was white, and
Clary saw that he still held his knife, gripped tightly at his side. I
Simon spun around, and Clary turned with him, staring into the darkness. The fire lit the grass with a hellish orange glow, but it was black between the trees of the hillsideand then something emerged from the blackness, a shadowy figure, with familiar dark, tumbled hair. He moved toward them, the light catching his face and reflecting off his dark eyes; they looked as if

they were burning.
Sebastian? Clary said.
Jace looked wildly from Hodge to
Sebastian standing uncertainly at the edge of the garden; Jace looked almost dazed. You, he said. Youdid this? I had to do it, Sebastian said. He would have killed you.
With what? Jaces voice rose and cracked. He didnt even have a weapon Jace. Alec cut through Jaces shouting. Come here. Help me with

Hodge.
He would have killed you,
Sebastian said again. He would have But Jace had gone to kneel beside
Alec, sheathing his knife at his belt.
Alec was holding Hodge in his arms, blood on his own shirtfront now. Take the stele from my pocket, he said to Jace. Try an iratze
Clary, stiff with horror, felt Simon stir beside her. She turned to look at him and was shockedhe was white as paper except for a hectic red

flush on both cheekbones. She could see the veins snaking under his skin, like the growth of some delicate, branching coral. The blood, he whispered, not looking at her. I have to get away from it.
Clary reached to catch his sleeve, but he lurched back, jerking his arm out of her grasp.
No, Clary, please. Let me go. Ill be okay; Ill be back. I just She started after him, but he was too quick for her to hold him back. He vanished into the darkness between the trees.

Hodge Alec sounded panicked.
Hodge, hold still
But his tutor was struggling feebly, trying to pull away from him, away from the stele in Jaces hand. No.
Hodges face was the color of putty.
His eyes darted from Jace to
Sebastian, who was still hanging back in the shadows. Jonathan
Jace, Jace said, almost in a whisper. Call me Jace.
Hodges eyes rested on him. Clary could not decipher the look in them.
Pleading, yes, but something more

than that, filled with dread, or something like it, and with need. He lifted a warding hand. Not you, he whispered, and blood spilled from his mouth with the words.
A look of hurt flashed across Jaces face. Alec, do the iratzeI dont think he wants me to touch him.
Hodges hand tightened into a claw; he clutched at Jaces sleeve. The rattle of his breath was audible.
You were never
And he died. Clary could tell the moment the life left him. It was not

a quiet, instant thing, like in a movie; his voice choked off in a gurgle and his eyes rolled back and he went limp and heavy, his arm bent awkwardly under him.
Alec closed Hodges eyes with his fingertips. Vale,
Hodge
Starkweather.
He doesnt deserve that. Sebastians voice was sharp. He wasnt a
Shadowhunter; he was a traitor. He doesn t deserve the last words.
Alecs head jerked up. He lowered
Hodge to the ground and rose to his

feet, his blue eyes like ice. Blood streaked his clothes. You know nothing about it. You killed an unarmed man, a Nephilim. Youre a murderer. Sebastians lip curled. You think I dont know who that was? He gestured at Hodge. Starkweather was in the Circle. He betrayed the
Clave then and was cursed for it.
He should have died for what he did, but the Clave was lenientand where did it get them? He betrayed us all again when he sold the Mortal

Cup to Valentine just to get his curse lifteda curse he deserved. He paused, breathing hard. I shouldnt have done it, but you cant say he didn t deserve it.
How do you know so much about
Hodge? Clary demanded. And what are you doing here? I thought you agreed to stay back at the Hall.
Sebastian hesitated. You were taking so long, he said finally. I got worried. I thought you might need my help.
So you decided to help us by killing

the guy we were talking to? Clary demanded. Because you thought he had a shady past? Whowho does that? It doesn t make any sense.
Thats because hes lying, Jace said.
He was looking at Sebastiana cold, considering look. And not well. I thought youd be a little faster on your feet there, Verlac.
Sebastian met his look evenly. I dont know what you mean,
Morgenstern.
He means, said Alec, stepping forward, that if you really think

what you just did was justified, you wont mind coming with us to the
Accords Hall and explaining yourself to the Council. Will you?
A beat passed before Sebastian smiledthe smile that had charmed
Clary before, but now there was something a little off-kilter about it, like a picture hanging slightly crookedly on a wall. Of course not.
He moved toward them slowly, almost strolling, as if he didnt have a worry in the world. As if he hadnt just committed murder. Of course,

he said, it is a little odd that youre so upset that I killed a man when
Jace was planning on cutting his fingers off one by one.
Alecs mouth tightened. He wouldnt have done it.
You Jace looked at Sebastian with loathing. You have no idea what you re talking about.
Or maybe, Sebastian said, youre really just angry because I kissed your sister. Because she wanted me.
I did not, Clary said, but neither of them was looking at her. Want you,

I mean.
She has this little habit, you knowthe way she gasps when you kiss her, like shes surprised?
Sebastian had come to a stop now, just in front of Jace, and was smiling like an angel. Its rather endearing; you must have noticed it.
Jace looked as if he wanted to throw up. My sister
Your sister, Sebastian said. Is she?
Because you two dont act like it.
You think other people cant see the way you look at each other? You

think youre hiding the way you feel?
You think everyone doesnt think its sick and unnatural? Because it is.
Thats enough. The look on Jaces face was murderous.
Why are you doing this? Clary said.
Sebastian, why are you saying all these things?
Because I finally can, Sebastian said. Youve no idea what its been like, being around the lot of you these past few days, having to pretend I could stand you. That the sight of you didnt make me sick.

You, he said to Jace, every second youre not panting after your own sister, youre whining on and on about how your daddy didnt love you. Well, who could blame him?
And you, you stupid bitchhe turned to Clarygiving that priceless book away to a half-breed warlock; have you got a single brain cell in that tiny head of yours? And you He directed his next sneer at Alec. I think we all know whats wrong w i th you. They shouldnt let your kind in the Clave. Youre disgusting.

Alec paled, though he looked more astonished than anything else. Clary couldnt blame himit was hard to look at Sebastian, at his angelic smile, and imagine he could say the s e things. Pretend you could stand us? she echoed. But why would you have to pretend that unless you wereunless you were spying on us, she finished, realizing the truth even as she spoke it.
Unless you were a spy for
Valentine.
Sebastians handsome face twisted,

the full mouth flattening, his long, elegant eyes narrowing to slits. And finally they get it, he said. I swear, there are utterly lightless demon dimensions out there that are less dim than the bunch of you.
We may not be all that bright, Jace said, but at least we re alive.
Sebastian looked at him in disgust.
I m alive, he pointed out.
Not for long, said Jace. Moonlight exploded off the blade of his knife as he flung himself at Sebastian, his motion so fast that it seemed

blurred, faster than any human movement Clary had ever seen.
Until now.
Sebastian darted aside, missing the blow, and caught Jaces knife arm as it descended. The knife clattered to the ground, and then Sebastian had
Jace by the back of his jacket. He lifted him and flung him with incredible strength. Jace flew through the air, hit the wall of the
Gard with bone-cracking force, and crumpled to the ground.
Jace! Clarys vision went white. She

ran at Sebastian to choke the life out of him. But he sidestepped her and brought his hand down as casually as if he were swatting an insect aside. The blow caught her hard on the side of the head, sending her spinning to the ground. She rolled over, blinking a red mist of pain out of her eyes.
Alec had taken his bow from his back; it was drawn, an arrow notched at the ready. His hands didnt waver as he aimed at
Sebastian. Stay where you are, he

said, and put your hands behind your back.
Sebastian laughed. You wouldnt really shoot me, he said. He moved toward Alec with an easy, careless step, as if he were striding up the stairs to his own front door.
Alecs eyes narrowed. His hands went up in a graceful, even series of movements; he drew the arrow back and loosed it. It flew toward
Sebastian
And missed. Sebastian had ducked or moved somehow, Clary couldnt

tell, and the arrow had gone past him, lodging in the trunk of a tree.
Alec had time only for a momentary look of surprise before Sebastian was on him, wrenching the bow out of his grasp. Sebastian snapped it in his handscracked it in half, and the crack of the splintering made Clary wince as if she were hearing bones splinter. She tried to drag herself into a sitting position, ignoring the searing pain in her head. Jace was lying a few feet away from her, utterly still. She tried to get up, but

her legs didnt seem to be working properly. Sebastian tossed the shattered halves of the bow aside and closed in on Alec. Alec already had a seraph blade out, glittering in his hand, but Sebastian swept it aside as Alec came at himswept it aside and caught Alec by the throat, almost lifting him off his feet. He squeezed mercilessly, viciously, grinning as Alec choked and struggled. Lightwood, he breathed.
Ive taken care of one of you already

today. I hadnt expected Id be lucky enough to get to do it twice.
He jerked backward, like a puppet whose strings had been yanked.
Released, Alec slumped to the ground, his hands at his throat.
Clary could hear his rattling, desperate breathbut her eyes were on Sebastian. A dark shadow had affixed itself to his back and was clinging to him like a leech. He clawed at his throat, gagging and choking as he spun in place, clawing at the thing that had hold of

his throat. As he turned, the moonlight fell on him, and Clary saw what it was.
It was Simon. His arms were wrapped around Sebastians neck, his white incisors glittering like bone needles. It was the first time
Clary had seen him actually look fully like a vampire since the night hed risen from his grave, and she stared in horrified amazement, unable to look away. His lips were curled back in a snarl, his fangs fully extended and sharp as daggers.

He sank them into Sebastians forearm, opening up a long red tear in the skin.
Sebastian yelled out loud and flung himself backward, landing hard on the ground. He rolled, Simon half on top of him, the two of them clawing at each other, tearing and snarling like dogs in a pit. Sebastian was bleeding in several places when he finally staggered to his feet and delivered two hard kicks to
Simons rib cage. Simon doubled over, clutching his midsection. You

foul little tick, Sebastian snarled, drawing his foot back for another blow. I wouldn t, said a quiet voice.
Clarys head jerked up, sending another starburst of pain shooting behind her eyes. Jace stood a few feet from Sebastian. His face was bloody, one eye swollen nearly shut, but in one hand was a blazing seraph blade, and the hand that held it was steady. Ive never killed a human being with one of these before, said Jace. But Im willing to

try.
Sebastians face twisted. He glanced down once at Simon, and then raised his head and spat. The words he said after that were in a language
Clary didnt recognizeand then he turned with the same terrifying swiftness with which hed moved when hed attacked Jace, and vanished into the darkness.
No! Clary cried. She tried to raise herself to her feet, but the pain was like an arrow searing its way through her brain. She crumpled to

the damp grass. A moment later
Jace was leaning over her, his face pale and anxious. She looked up at him, her vision blurringit had to be blurred, didnt it, or she could never have imagined that whiteness around him, a sort of light
She heard Simons voice and then
Alecs, and something was handed down to Jacea stele. Her arm burned, and a moment later the pain began to recede, and her head cleared. She blinked up at the three faces hovering over hers. My head

You have a concussion, Jace said.
T h e iratze should help, but we ought to get you to a Clave doctor.
Head injuries can be tricky. He handed the stele back to Alec. Do you think you can stand up?
She nodded. It was a mistake. Pain shot through her again as hands reached down and helped her to her feet. Simon. She leaned against him gratefully, waiting for her balance to return. She still felt as if she might fall over at any minute.
Jace was scowling. You shouldnt

have attacked Sebastian like that.
You didnt even have a weapon.
What were you thinking?
What we were all thinking. Alec, unexpectedly, came to her defense.
That hed just thrown you through the air like a softball. Jace, Ive never seen anyone get the better of you like that.
Ihe surprised me, Jace said a little reluctantly. He must have had some kind of special training. I wasnt expecting it.
Yeah, well. Simon touched his rib

cage, wincing. I think he kicked in a couple of my ribs. Its okay, he added at Clarys worried look.
Theyre healing. But Sebastians definitely strong. Really strong. He looked at Jace. How long do you think he was standing there in the shadows? Jace looked grim. He glanced among the trees in the direction
Sebastian had gone. Well, the Clave will catch himand curse him, probably. Id like to see them put the same curse on him they put on

Hodge. That would be poetic justice. Simon turned aside and spat into the bushes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his face twisted into a grimace. His blood tastes foul like poison.
I suppose we can add that to his list of charming qualities, said Jace. I wonder what else he was up to tonight. We need to get back to the Hall.
The look on Alecs face was strained, and Clary remembered that

Sebastian had said something to him, something about the other
Lightwoods . Can you walk, Clary?
She drew away from Simon. I can walk. What about Hodge? We cant just leave him.
We have to, said Alec. Therell be time to come back for him if we all survive the night.
As they left the garden, Jace paused, drew off his jacket, and laid it over
Hodges slack, upturned face. Clary wanted to go to Jace, put a hand on his shoulder even, but something in

the way he held himself told her not to. Even Alec didnt go near him or offer a healing rune, despite the fact that Jace was limping as he walked down the hill.
They moved together down the zigzag path, weapons drawn and at the ready, the sky lit red by the burning Gard behind them. But they saw no demons. The stillness and eerie light made Clarys head throb; she felt as if she were in a dream.
Exhaustion gripped her like a vise.
Just putting one foot in front of the

other was like lifting a block of cement and slamming it down, over and over. She could hear Jace and
Alec talking up ahead on the path, their voices faintly blurred despite their proximity.
Alec was speaking softly, almost pleading: Jace, the way you were talking up there, to Hodge. You cant think like that. Being Valentines son, it doesnt make you a monster.
Whatever he did to you when you were a kid, whatever he taught you, you have to see it s not your fault

I dont want to talk about this, Alec.
Not now, not ever. Dont ask me about it again. Jaces tone was savage, and Alec fell silent. Clary could almost feel his hurt. What a night, Clary thought. A night of so much pain for everyone.
She tried not to think of Hodge, of the pleading, pitiful look on his face before hed died. She hadnt liked
Hodge, but he hadnt deserved what
Sebastian had done to him. No one did. She thought of Sebastian, of the way hed moved, like sparks flying.

Shed never seen anyone but Jace move like that. She wanted to puzzle it outwhat had happened to
Sebastian? How had a cousin of the
Penhallows managed to go so wrong, and how had they never noticed? Shed thought hed wanted to help her save her mother, but hed only wanted to get the Book of the
White for Valentine. Magnus had been wrongit hadnt been because of the Lightwoods that Valentine had found out about Ragnor Fell. It had been because shed told Sebastian.

How could she have been so stupid? Appalled, she barely noticed as the path turned into an avenue, leading them into the city. The streets were deserted, the houses dark, many of the witchlight streetlamps smashed, their glass scattered across the cobblestones. V oices were audible, echoing as if at a distance, and the gleam of torches was visible here and there among the shadows between buildings, but
Its awfully quiet, Alec said, looking

around in surprise. And
It doesnt stink like demons. Jace frowned. Strange. Come on. Let s get to the Hall.
Though Clary was half-braced for an attack, they didnt see a single demon as they moved through the streets. Not a live one, at leastthough as they passed a narrow alley, she saw a group of three or four Shadowhunters gathered in a circle around something that pulsed and twitched on the ground. They were taking turns stabbing it with

long, sharpened poles. With a shudder she looked away.
The Hall of Accords was lit like a bonfire, witchlight pouring out of its doors and windows. They hurried up the stairs, Clary steadying herself when she stumbled. Her dizziness was getting worse. The world seemed to be swinging around her, as if she stood inside a great spinning globe. Above her the stars were white-painted streaks across the sky. You should lie down, Simon said, and then, when

she said nothing, Clary?
With an enormous effort, she forced herself to smile at him. I m all right.
Jace, standing at the entrance to the
Hall, looked back at her in silence.
In the harsh glare of the witchlight, the blood on his face and his swollen eye looked ugly, streaked and black.
There was a dull roar inside the
Hall, the low murmur of hundreds of voices. To Clary it sounded like the beating of an enormous heart.
The lights of the bracketed torches,

coupled with the glow of witchlights carried everywhere, seared her eyes and fragmented her vision; she could see only vague shapes now, vague shapes and colors. White, gold, and then the night sky above, fading from dark to paler blue. How late was it?
I dont see them. Alec, casting anxiously around the room for his family, sounded as if he were a hundred miles off, or deep under water. They should be here by now
His voice faded as Clarys dizziness

worsened. She put a hand against a nearby pillar to steady herself. A hand brushed across her backSimon. He was saying something to Jace, sounding anxious. His voice faded into the pattern of dozens of others, rising and falling around her like waves breaking. Never seen anything like it. The demons just turned around and left, just vanished.
Sunrise, probably. Theyre afraid of sunrise, and it s not far off.

No, it was more than that.
You just dont want to think theyll be back the next night, or the next.
Dont say that; theres no reason to say that. Theyll get the wards back up. And Valentine will just take them down again.
Maybe its no better than we deserve. Maybe Valentine was rightmaybe allying ourselves with
Downworlders means weve lost the
Angel s blessing.
Hush. Have some respect. Theyre

tallying the dead out in Angel
Square.
There they are, Alec said. Over there, by the dais. It looks like His voice trailed off, and then he was gone, pushing his way through the crowd. Clary squinted, trying to sharpen her vision. All she could see were blurs
She heard Jace catch his breath, and then, without another word, he was shoving through the crowd after
Alec. Clary let go of the pillar, meaning to follow them, but

stumbled. Simon caught her.
You need to lie down, Clary, he said. No, she whispered. I want to see what happened
She broke off. He was staring past her, after Jace, and he looked stricken. Bracing herself against the pillar, she raised herself up on her toes, struggling to see over the crowd There they were, the Lightwoods:
Maryse with her arms around
Isabelle, who was sobbing, and

Robert Lightwood sitting on the ground and holding somethingno, someone, and Clary thought of the first time she had seen Max, at the
Institute, lying limp and asleep on a couch, his glasses knocked askew and his hand trailing along the floor.
He can sleep anywhere, Jace had said, and he almost looked as if he were sleeping now, in his fathers lap, but Clary knew he wasn t.
Alec was on his knees, holding one of Maxs hands, but Jace was just standing where he was, not moving,

and more than anything else he looked lost, as if he had no idea where he was or what he was doing there. All Clary wanted was to run to him and put her arms around him, but the look on Simons face told her no, no, and so did her memory of the manor house and Jaces arms around her there. She was the last person on earth who could ever give him any comfort.
Clary, Simon said, but she was pulling away from him, despite her dizziness and the pain in her head.

She ran for the door of the Hall and pushed it open, ran out onto the steps and stood there, gulping down breaths of cold air. In the distance the horizon was streaked with red fire, the stars fading, bleached out of the lightening sky. The night was over. Dawn had come.

13

WHERE THERE IS SORROW

Clary woke gasping out of a dream of bleeding angels, her sheets twisted around her in a tight spiral. It was pitch-black and close in Amatiss spare bedroom, like being locked in a coffin. She reached out and twitched the curtains open. Daylight poured in.
She frowned and pulled them shut again. Shadowhunters burned their dead, and ever since the demon attack, the

sky to the west of the city had been stained with smoke. Looking at it out the window made Clary feel sick, so she kept the curtains closed.
In the darkness of the room she closed her eyes, trying to remember her dream. There had been angels in it, and the image of the rune Ithuriel had showed her, flashing over and over against the inside of her eyelids like a blinking WALK sign.
It was a simple rune, as simple as a tied knot, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldnt read

it, couldnt figure out what it meant.
All she knew was that it seemed somehow incomplete to her, as if whoever had created the pattern hadn t quite finished it.
These are not the first dreams I have ever showed you, Ithuriel had said. She thought of her other dreams: of Simon with crosses burned into his hands, Jace with wings, lakes of cracking ice that shone like mirror glass. Had the angel sent her those, too?
With a sigh she sat up. The dreams

might be bad, but the waking images that marched across her brain werent much better. Isabelle, weeping on the floor of the Hall of
Accords, tugging with such force on the black hair threaded through her fingers that Clary worried she would rip it out. Maryse shrieking at Jia Penhallow that the boy theyd brought into their house had done this, their cousin, and if he was so closely allied with Valentine, what did that say about them? Alec trying to calm his mother down, asking

Jace to help him, but Jace just standing there as the sun rose over
Alicante and blazed down through the ceiling of the Hall. Its dawn,
Luke had said, looking more tired than Clary had ever seen him. Time to bring the bodies inside. And hed sent out patrols to gather up the dead Shadowhunters and lycanthropes lying in the streets and bring them to the plaza outside the
Hall, the plaza Clary had crossed with Sebastian when shed commented that the Hall looked like

a church. It had seemed like a pretty place to her then, lined with flower boxes and brightly painted shops.
And now it was full of corpses.
Including Max. Thinking of the little boy whod so gravely talked about manga with her made her stomach knot. Shed promised once that shed take him to Forbidden Planet, but that would never happen now. I would have bought him books, she t h o u g h t . Whatever books he wanted. Not that it mattered.
Dont think about it. Clary kicked

her sheets back and got up. After a quick shower she changed into the jeans and sweater shed worn the day shed come from New York. She pressed her face to the material before she put the sweater on, hoping to catch a whiff of Brooklyn, or the smell of laundry detergentsomething to remind her of homebut it had been washed and smelled like lemon soap. With another sigh she headed downstairs.
The house was empty except for
Simon, sitting on the couch in the

living room. The open windows behind him streamed daylight. Hed become like a cat, Clary thought, always seeking out available patches of sunlight to curl up in. No matter how much sun he got, though, his skin stayed the same ivory white. She picked an apple out of the bowl on the table and sank down next to him, curling her legs up under her.
Did you get any sleep?
Some. He looked at her. I ought to ask you that. Youre the one with the

shadows under your eyes. More nightmares? She shrugged. Same stuff. Death, destruction, bad angels.
So a lot like real life, then.
Yeah, but at least when I wake up, its over. She took a bite out of her apple. Let me guess. Luke and
Amatis are at the Accords Hall, having another meeting.
Yeah. I think theyre having the meeting where they get together and decide what other meetings they need to have. Simon picked idly at

the fringe edging a throw pillow.
Have you heard anything from
Magnus?
No. Clary was trying not to think about the fact that it had been three days since shed seen Magnus, and hed sent no word at all. Or the fact that there was really nothing stopping him from taking the Book of the White and disappearing into the ether, never to be heard from again. She wondered why shed ever thought trusting someone who wore that much eyeliner was a good idea.

She touched Simons wrist lightly.
And you? What about you? Youre still okay here? Shed wanted Simon to go home the moment the battle was overhome, where it was safe.
But hed been strangely resistant.
For whatever reason, he seemed to want to stay. She hoped it wasnt because he thought he had to take care of hershed nearly come out and told him she didnt need his protectionbut she hadnt, because part of her couldnt bear to see him go. So he stayed, and Clary was

secretly, guiltily glad. Youre getting you know what you need?
You mean blood? Yeah, Maias still bringing me bottles every day. Dont ask me where she gets it, though.
The first morning Simon had been at
Amatiss
house, a grinning lycanthrope had showed up on the doorstep with a live cat for him.
Blood, hed said, in a heavily accented voice. For you. Fresh!
Simon had thanked the werewolf, waited for him to leave, and let the cat go, his expression faintly green.

Well, youre going to have to get your blood from somewhere, said
Luke, looking amused.
I have a pet cat, Simon replied.
There s no way.
Ill tell Maia, Luke promised, and from then on the blood had come in discreet glass milk bottles. Clary had no idea how Maia was arranging it and, like Simon, didnt want to ask. She hadnt seen the werewolf girl since the night of the battlethe lycanthropes were camped somewhere in the nearby forest,

with only Luke remaining in the city. Whats up? Simon leaned his head back, looking at her through his lowered eyelashes. You look like you want to ask me something.
There were several things Clary wanted to ask him, but she decided to go for one of the safer options.
Hodge, she said, and hesitated.
When you were in the cellyou really didn t know it was him?
I couldnt see him. I could just hear him through the wall. We talkeda

lot.
And you liked him? I mean, he was nice? Nice? I dont know. Tortured, sad, intelligent, compassionate in brief flashesyeah, I liked him. I think I sort of reminded him of himself, in a way
Dont say that! Clary sat up straight, almost dropping her apple. Youre nothing like Hodge was.
You dont think Im tortured and intelligent? Hodge was evil. Youre not. Clary

spoke decidedly. Thats all there is to it.
Simon sighed. People arent born good or bad. Maybe theyre born with tendencies either way, but its the way you live your life that matters. And the people you know.
Valentine was Hodges friend, and I dont think Hodge really had anyone else in his life to challenge him or make him be a better person. If Id had that life, I dont know how I would have turned out. But I didnt. I have my family. And I have you.

Clary smiled at him, but his words rang painfully in her ears. People arent born good or bad. Shed always thought that was true, but in the images the angel had showed her, shed seen her mother call her own child evil, a monster. She wished she could tell Simon about it, tell him everything the angel had showed her, but she couldnt. It would have meant telling what theyd discovered about Jace, and that she couldnt do. It was his secret to tell, not hers. Simon had asked

her once what Jace had meant when hed spoken to Hodge, why hed called himself a monster, but shed only answered that it was hard to understand what Jace meant by anything at the best of times. She wasnt sure Simon had believed her, but he hadn t asked again.
She was saved from saying anything at all by a loud knock on the door.
With a frown Clary set her apple core down on the table. I ll get it.
The open door let in a wave of cold, fresh air. Aline Penhallow

stood on the front steps, wearing a dark pink silk jacket that almost matched the circles under her eyes.
I need to talk to you, she said without preamble.
Surprised, Clary could only nod and hold the door open. All right. Come on in.
Thanks. Aline pushed past her brusquely and went into the living room. She froze when she saw
Simon sitting on the couch, her lips parting in astonishment. Isn t that
The vampire? Simon grinned. The

slight but inhuman acuity of his incisors was just visible against his lower lip when he grinned like that.
Clary wished he wouldn t.
Aline turned to Clary. Can I talk to you alone?
No, Clary said, and sat down on the couch next to Simon. Anything you have to say, you can say to both of us. Aline bit her lip. Fine. Look, I have something I want to tell Alec and
Jace and Isabelle, but I have no idea where to find them right now.

Clary sighed. They pulled some strings and got into an empty house.
The family in it left for the country.
Aline nodded. A lot of people had left Idris since the attacks. Most had stayedmore than Clary would have expectedbut quite a few had packed up and departed, leaving their houses standing empty.
Theyre okay, if thats what you want to know. Look, I havent seen them either. Not since the battle. I could pass on a message through Luke if you want

I dont know. Aline was chewing her lower lip. My parents had to tell
Sebastians aunt in Paris what he did. She was really upset.
As one would be if ones nephew turned out to be an evil mastermind, said Simon.
Aline shot him a dark look. She said it was completely unlike him, that there must be some mistake. So she sent me some photos of him. Aline reached into her pocket and drew out several slightly bent photographs, which she handed to

Clary. Look.
Clary looked. The photographs showed a laughing dark-haired boy, handsome in an off-kilter sort of way, with a crooked grin and a slightly-too-big nose. He looked like the sort of boy it would be fun to hang out with. He also looked nothing at all like Sebastian. This is your cousin?
Thats Sebastian Verlac. Which means That the boy who was here, who was calling himself Sebastian, is

someone else entirely? Clary rifled through the photos with increasing agitation. I thought Aline was worrying her lip again. I thought that if the
Lightwoods knew Sebastianor whoever that boy waswasnt really our cousin, maybe theyd forgive me.
Forgive us.
Im sure they will. Clary made her voice as kind as she could. But this is bigger than that. The Clave will want to know that Sebastian wasnt just some misguided Shadowhunter

kid. Valentine sent him here deliberately as a spy.
He was just so convincing, Aline said. He knew things only my family knows. He knew things from our childhood It kind of makes you wonder, said
Simon, what happened to the real
Sebastian. Your cousin. It sounds like he left Paris, headed to Idris, and never actually got here. So what happened to him on the way?
Clary
answered.
Valentine
happened. He must have planned it

all and known where Sebastian would be and how to intercept him on the way. And if he did that with
Sebastian
Then there may be others, said
Aline. You should tell the Clave.
Tell Lucian Graymark. She caught
Clarys surprised look. People listen to him. My parents said so.
Maybe you should come to the Hall with us, Simon suggested. Tell him yourself. Aline shook her head. I can t face the
Lightwoods. Especially Isabelle.

She saved my life, and II just ran away. I couldnt stop myself. I just ran. You were in shock. Its not your fault. Aline looked unconvinced. And now her brother She broke off, biting her lip again. Anyway. Look, theres something Ive been meaning to tell you, Clary.
To tell me? Clary was baffled.
Yes. Aline took a deep breath.
Look, what you walked in on, with me and Jace, it wasnt anything. I

kissed him. It wasan experiment.
And it didn t really work.
Clary felt herself blushing what she thought must be a truly spectacular red. Why is she telling me this?
Look, its okay. Its Jaces business, not mine.
Well, you seemed pretty upset at the time. A small smile played around the corners of Alines mouth. And I think I know why.
Clary swallowed against the acid taste in her mouth. You do?
Look, your brother gets around.

Everyone knows that; hes dated lots of girls. You were worried that if he messed around with me, hed get in trouble. After all, our families are werefriends. You dont need to worry, though. He s not my type.
I dont think Ive ever heard a girl say that before, said Simon. I thought
Jace was the kind of guy who was everyone s type.
I thought so too, Aline said slowly, which is why I kissed him. I was trying to figure out if any guy is my type. She kissed Jace, Clary thought. He didnt kiss her. She kissed him. She met Simons eyes over Alines head.
Simon was looking amused. Well, what d you decide?
Aline shrugged. Not sure yet. But, hey, at least you dont have Jace to worry about.
If only. I always have Jace to worry about. The space inside the Hall of
Accords
had been swiftly reconfigured since the night of the battle. With the Gard gone it now served as a Council chamber, a gathering place for people looking for missing family members, and a place to learn the latest news. The central fountain was dry, and on either side of it long benches were drawn up in rows facing a raised dais at the far end of the room.
While some Nephilim were seated on the benches in what looked like a

Council session, in the aisles and beneath the arcades that ringed the great room dozens of other
Shadowhunters
were milling anxiously. The Hall no longer looked like a place where anyone would consider dancing. There was a peculiar atmosphere in the air, a mixture of tension and anticipation.
Despite the gathering of the Clave in the center, murmured conversations were everywhere.
Clary caught snippets of chatter as she and Simon moved through the

room: the demon towers were working again. The wards were back up, but weaker than before.
The wards were back up, but stronger than before. Demons had been sighted on the hills south of the city. The country houses were abandoned, more families had left the city, and some had left the Clave altogether. On the raised dais, surrounded by hanging maps of the city, stood the
Consul, glowering like a bodyguard beside a short, plump man in gray.

The plump man was gesticulating angrily as he spoke, but no one seemed to be paying any attention.
Oh, crap, thats the Inquisitor, Simon muttered in Clarys ear, pointing.
Aldertree.
And theres Luke, Clary said, picking him out from the crowd. He stood near the dry fountain, deep in conversation with a man in heavily scuffed gear and a bandage covering the left half of his face.
Clary looked around for Amatis and finally saw her, sitting silently at the

end of a bench, as far away from the other Shadowhunters as she could get. She caught sight of Clary and made a startled face, beginning to rise to her feet.
Luke saw Clary, frowned, and spoke to the bandaged man in a low voice, excusing himself. He crossed the room to where Clary and Simon stood by one of the pillars, his frown deepening as he approached.
What are you doing here? You know the Clave doesnt allow children into its meetings, and as for

you He glared at Simon. Its probably not the best idea for you to show your face in front of the
Inquisitor, even if there isnt really anything he can do about it. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth.
Not without jeopardizing any alliance the Clave might want to have with Downworlders in the future, anyway.
Thats right. Simon wiggled his fingers in a wave at the Inquisitor, which Aldertree ignored.
Simon, stop it. Were here for a

reason. Clary thrust the photographs of Sebastian at Luke. This is
Sebastian
Verlac.
The real
Sebastian Verlac.
Lukes expression darkened. He shuffled through the photos without saying anything as Clary repeated the story Aline had told her. Simon, meanwhile, stood uneasily, glowering across the room at
Aldertree, who was studiously ignoring him.
So does the real Sebastian look much like the imposter version?

Luke asked finally.
Not really, Clary said. The fake
Sebastian was taller. And I think he was probably blond, because he was definitely dyeing his hair. No one has hair that black. And the dye came off on my fingers when I touched it, she thought, but kept the thought to herself. Anyway, Aline wanted us to show these to you and to the Lightwoods. She thought maybe if they knew he wasnt really related to the Penhallows, then
She hasnt told her parents about

these, has she? Luke indicated the photos. Not yet, I think, Clary said. I think she came straight to me. She wanted me to tell you. She said people listen to you.
Maybe some of them do. Luke glanced back at the man with the bandaged face. I was just talking to
Patrick
Penhallow, actually. Valentine was a good friend of his back in the day and may have kept tabs on the Penhallow family in one way or another in the years since.

You said Hodge told you he had spies here. He handed the photos back to Clary. Unfortunately, the
Lightwoods aren t going to be part of the Council today. This morning was Maxs funeral. Theyre most likely in the cemetery. Seeing the look on Clarys face, he added, It was a very small ceremony, Clary.
Just the family.
But I am Jace s family, said a small, protesting voice inside her head.
But there was another voice, a louder one, surprising her with its

bitterness. And he told you that being around you was like bleeding to death slowly. Do you really think he needs that when hes already at Max s funeral?
Then you can tell them tonight, maybe, Clary said. I meanI think itll be good news. Whoever Sebastian really is, he isnt related to their friends. Itd be better news if we knew where he was, Luke muttered. Or what other spies Valentine has here.
There must have been several of

them, at least, involved in taking down the wards. It could only have been done from inside the city.
Hodge said Valentine had figured out how to do it, said Simon. He said that you need demon blood to take the wards down, but that there was no way to get demon blood into the city. Except that Valentine had figured out a way.
Someone painted a rune in demon blood on the apex of one of the towers, Luke said with a sigh, so, clearly, Hodge was right.

Unfortunately, the Clave has always trusted too much in their wards. But even the cleverest puzzle has a solution. It seems to me like the sort of clever that gets your butt kicked in gaming,
Simon said. The second you protect your fortress with a Spell of Total
Invincibility, someone comes along and figures out how to trash the place. Simon, Clary said. Shut up.
Hes not so far off, said Luke. We just dont know how they got demon

blood into the city without setting the wards off in the first place. He shrugged. Its the least of our problems at the moment. The wards are back up, but we already know theyre not foolproof. Valentine could return at any moment with an even bigger force of arms, and I doubt we could fight him off. There arent enough Nephilim, and those who are here are utterly demoralized. But what about the Downworlders?
Clary said. You told the Consul that

the Clave had to fight with the
Downworlders.
I can tell Malachi and Aldertree that until Im blue in the face, but it doesnt mean theyll listen, Luke said wearily. The only reason theyre even letting me stay here is because the Clave voted to keep me on as an adviser. And they only did that because quite a few of them had their lives saved by my pack. But that doesnt mean they want more
Downworlders in Idris
Someone screamed.

Amatis was on her feet, her hand over her mouth, staring toward the front of the Hall. A man stood in the doorway, framed in the glow of the sunlight outside. He was only a sil houette, until he took a step forward, into the Hall, and Clary could see his face for the first time.
Valentine.
For some reason the first thing
Clary noticed was that he was clean shaven. It made him look younger, more like the angry boy in the memories Ithuriel had showed her.

Instead of battle dress, he wore an elegantly cut pin-striped suit and a tie. He was unarmed. He could have been any man walking down the streets of Manhattan. He could have been anyone s father.
He didnt look toward Clary, didnt acknowledge her presence at all.
His eyes were on Luke as he walked up the narrow aisle between the benches.
How could he come in here like this without any weapons? Clary wondered, and had her question

answered a moment later: Inquisitor
Aldertree made a noise like a wounded bear; tore himself away from Malachi, who was trying to hold him back; staggered down the dais steps; and hurled himself at
Valentine.
He passed through Valentines body like a knife tearing through paper.
Valentine turned to watch Aldertree with an expression of bland interest as the Inquisitor staggered, collided with a pillar, and sprawled awkwardly to the ground. The

Consul, following, bent to help him to his feetthere was a look of barely concealed disgust on his face as he did it, and Clary wondered if the disgust was directed at Valentine or at Aldertree for acting such a fool.
Another faint murmur carried around the room. The Inquisitor squeaked and struggled like a rat in a trap, Malachi holding him firmly by the arms as Valentine proceeded into the room without another glance at either of them. The
Shadowhunters who had been

clustered around the benches drew back, like the waves of the Red Sea parting for Moses, leaving a clear path down the center of the room.
Clary shivered as he drew closer to where she stood with Luke and
Simon. Hes only a Projection, she told herself. Not really here. He can t hurt you.
Beside her Simon shuddered. Clary took his hand just as Valentine paused at the steps of the dais and turned to look directly at her. His eyes raked her once, casually, as if

taking her measure; passed over
Simon entirely; and came to rest on
Luke.
Lucian, he said.
Luke returned his gaze, steady and level, saying nothing. It was the first time they had been together in the same room since Renwicks, Clary thought, and then Luke had been half-dead from fighting and covered in blood. It was easier now to mark both the differences and the similarities between the two menLuke in his ragged flannel and

jeans, and Valentine in his beautiful and expensive-looking suit; Luke with a days worth of stubble and gray in his hair, and Valentine looking much as he had when he was twenty-fiveonly colder, somehow, and harder, as if the passing years were in the process of turning him slowly to stone.
I hear the Clave has brought you onto the Council now, Valentine said. It would only be fitting for a
Clave diluted by corruption and pandering to find itself infiltrated by

half-breed degenerates. His voice was placid, even cheerfulso much so that it was hard to feel the poison in his words, or to really believe that he meant them. His gaze moved back to Clary. Clarissa, he said, here with the vampire, I see. When things have settled a bit, we really must discuss your choice of pets.
A low growling noise came from
Simons throat. Clary gripped his hand, hardhard enough that there would have been a time hed have jerked away in pain. Now he didnt

seem to feel it. Dont, she whispered. Just don t.
Valentine had already turned his attention away from them. He climbed the dais steps and turned to gaze down at the crowd. So many familiar faces, he observed. Patrick.
Malachi. Amatis.
Amatis stood rigid, her eyes bright with hatred.
The Inquisitor was still struggling in
Malachis grasp. Valentines gaze flicked over him, half-amused. Even you, Aldertree. I hear you were

indirectly responsible for the death of my old friend Hodge
Starkweather. A pity, that.
Luke found his voice. You admit it, then, he said. You brought the wards down. You sent the demons.
I sent them, said Valentine. I can send more. Surely the Claveeven the Clave, stupid as they aremust have expected this? You expected it, didn t you, Lucian?
Luke s eyes were gravely blue. I did.
But I know you, Valentine. So have you come to bargain, or to gloat?

Neither. Valentine regarded the silent crowd. I have no need to bargain, he said, and though his tone was calm, his voice carried as if amplified. And no desire to gloat. I dont enjoy causing the deaths of
Shadowhunters; there are precious few of us already, in a world that needs us desperately. But thats how the Clave likes it, isnt it? Its just another one of their nonsensical rules, the rules they use to grind ordinary Shadowhunters into the dust. I did what I did because I had

to. I did what I did because it was the only way to make the Clave listen. Shadowhunters didnt die because of me; they died because the Clave ignored me. He met
Aldertrees eyes across the crowd; the Inquisitors face was white and twitching. So many of you here were once in my Circle, said
Valentine slowly. I speak to you now, and to those who knew of the
Circle but stood outside it. Do you remember what I predicted fifteen years ago? That unless we acted

against the Accords, the city of
Alicante, our own precious capital, would be overrun by slobbering, slavering crowds of half-breeds, the degenerate races trampling underfoot everything we hold dear?
And just as I predicted, all that has come to pass. The Gard burned to the ground, the Portal destroyed, our streets awash with monsters. Halfhuman scum presuming to lead us.
So, my friends, my enemies, my brothers under the Angel, I ask youdo you believe me now? His

voice rose to a shout: DO YOU
BELIEVE ME NOW?
His gaze swept the room as if he expected an answer. There was none only a sea of staring faces.
Valentine. Lukes voice, though soft, broke the silence. Cant you see what youve done? The Accords you dreaded so much didnt make
Downworlders equal to Nephilim.
They didnt assure half humans a spot on the Council. All the old hatreds were still in place. You should have trusted to those, but you

didntyou couldntand now youve given us the one thing that could possibly have united us all. His eyes sought Valentines. A common enemy. A flush passed over Valentines pale face. I am not an enemy. Not of
Nephilim. You are that. Youre the one trying to entice them into a hopeless fight. You think those demons you saw are all I have?
They were a fraction of what I can summon. There are more of us as well, said

Luke. More Nephilim, and more
Downworlders.
Downworlders, Valentine sneered.
They will run at the first sign of true danger. Nephilim are born to be warriors, to protect this world, but the world hates your kind. There is a reason clean silver burns you, and daylight scorches the Night
Children.
It doesnt scorch me, Simon said in a hard, clear voice, despite the grip of Clarys hand. Here I am, standing in sunlight

But Valentine just laughed. Ive seen you choke on the name of God, vampire, he said. As for why you can stand in the sunlight He broke off and grinned. Youre an anomaly, perhaps. A freak. But still a monster. A monster. Clary thought of
Valentine on the ship, of what he had said there: Your mother told me that I had turned her first child into a monster. She left me before I could have the chance to do the same to her second.

Jace. The thought of his name was a sharp pain. After what Valentine did, he stands here talking about monsters The only monster here, she said, despite herself and despite her resolution to keep silent, is you. I saw Ithuriel, she went on when he turned to look at her in surprise. I know everything
I doubt that, Valentine said. If you did, youd keep your mouth shut. For your brother s sake, if not your own.
Dont you even talk about Jace to

me! Clary wanted to shout, but another voice came to cut hers off, a cool, unexpected female voice, fearless and bitter.
And what about my brother? Amatis moved to stand at the foot of the dais, looking up at Valentine. Luke started in surprise and shook his head at her, but she ignored him.
Valentine frowned. What about
Lucian? Amatiss question, Clary sensed, had unsettled him, or maybe it was just that Amatis was there, asking, confronting him. He had

written her off years ago as weak, unlikely to challenge him. Valentine never liked it when people surprised him.
You told me he wasnt my brother anymore, said Amatis. You took
Stephen away from me. You destroyed my family. You say you arent an enemy of Nephilim, but you set each of us against each other, family against family, wrecking lives without compunction. You say you hate the Clave, but youre the one who made them what they are

nowpetty and paranoid. We used to trust one another, we Nephilim. You changed that. I will never forgive you for it. Her voice shook. Or for making me treat Lucian as if he were no longer my brother. I wont forgive you for that, either. Nor will
I forgive myself for listening to you.
Amatis Luke took a step forward, but his sister put up a hand to stop him. Her eyes were shining with tears, but her back was straight, her voice firm and unwavering.
There was a time we were all

willing to listen to you, Valentine, she said. And we all have that on our conscience. But no more. No more. That time is over. Is there anyone here who disagrees with me? Clary jerked her head up and looked out at the gathered
Shadowhunters: They looked to her like a rough sketch of a crowd, with white blurs for faces. She saw
Patrick Penhallow, his jaw set, and the Inquisitor, who was shaking like a frail tree in a high wind. And

Malachi, whose dark, polished face was strangely unreadable.
No one said a word.
If Clary had expected Valentine to be angry at this lack of response from the Nephilim he had hoped to lead, she was disappointed. Other than a twitch in the muscle of his jaw, he was expressionless. As if he had expected this response. As if he had planned for it.
Very well, he said. If you will not listen to reason, you will have to listen to force. I have already

showed you I can take down the wards around your city. I see that youve put them back up, but thats of no consequence; I can easily do it again. You will either accede to my requirements or face every demon the Mortal Sword can summon. I will tell them not to spare a single one of you, not a man, woman, or child. It s your choice.
A murmur swept around the room;
Luke was staring. You would deliberately destroy your own kind,
Valentine?

Sometimes diseased plants must be culled to preserve the whole garden, said Valentine. And if all are diseased He turned to face the horrified crowd. It is your choice, he went on. I have the Mortal Cup.
If I must, I will start over with a new world of Shadowhunters, created and taught by me. But I can give you this one chance. If the
Clave will sign over all the powers of the Council to me and accept my unequivocal sovereignty and rule, I will stay my hand.
All

Shadowhunters will swear an oath of obedience and accept a permanent loyalty rune that binds them to me. These are my terms.
There was silence. Amatis had her hand over her mouth; the rest of the room swung before Clarys eyes in a whirling blur. They cant give in to him, she thought. They cant. But what choice did they have? What choice did any of them ever have?
They are trapped by Valentine, she thought dully, as surely as Jace and
I are trapped by what he made us.

We are all chained to him by our own blood.
It was only a moment, though it felt like an hour to Clary, before a thin voice cut through the silencethe high, spidery voice of the Inquisitor.
Sovereignty and rule? he shrieked.
Your rule?
Aldertree The Consul moved to restrain him, but the Inquisitor was too quick. He wriggled free and darted toward the dais. He was yelping something, the same words over and over, as if hed lost his

mind entirely, his eyes rolled back practically to the whites. He thrust
Amatis aside, staggering up the steps of the dais to face Valentine. I am the Inquisitor, do you understand, the Inquisitor! he shouted. I am part of the Clave! The
Council! I make the rules, not you! I rule, not you! I wont let you do this, you upstart, demon-loving slime
With a look very close to boredom,
Valentine reached out a hand, almost as if he meant to touch the
Inquisitor on the shoulder. But

Valentine couldnt touch anythinghe was just a Projectionand then Clary gasped as Valentines hand passed through the Inquisitors skin, bones and flesh, vanishing into his rib cage. There was a secondonly a secondduring which the whole Hall seemed to gape at Valentines left arm, buried somehow, impossibly, wrist-deep in Aldertrees chest.
Then Valentine jerked his wrist hard and suddenly to the lefta twisting motion, as if he were turning a stubbornly rusty doorknob.

The Inquisitor gave a single cry and dropped like a stone.
Valentine drew his hand back. It was slicked with blood, a scarlet glove reaching halfway to his elbow, staining the expensive wool of his suit. Lowering his bloody hand, he gazed out across the horrified crowd, his eyes coming to rest at last on Luke. He spoke slowly. I will give you until tomorrow at midnight to consider my terms. At that time I will bring my army, in all its force, to

Brocelind Plain. If I have not yet received a message of surrender from the Clave, I will march with my army here to Alicante, and this time we will leave nothing living.
You have that long to consider my terms. Use the time wisely.
And with that, he vanished.

14

IN THE DARK FOREST

Well, how about that, said Jace, still without looking at Claryhe hadnt really looked at her since she and Simon had arrived on the front step of the house the Lightwoods were now inhabiting. Instead he was leaning against one of the high windows in the living room, staring out toward the rapidly darkening sky. A guy attends the funeral of his nine-year-old brother and misses all the fun.

Jace, Alec said, in a tired sort of voice. Don t.
Alec was slumped in one of the worn, overstuffed chairs that were the only things to sit on in the room.
The house had the odd, alien feel of houses belonging to strangers: It was decorated in floral-printed fabrics, frilly and pastel, and everything in it was slightly worn or tattered. There was a glass bowl filled with chocolates on the small end table near Alec; Clary, starving, had eaten a few and found them

crumbly and dry. She wondered what kind of people had lived here.
The kind who ran away when things got tough, she thought sourly; they deserved to have their house taken over. Dont what? Jace asked; it was dark enough outside now that Clary could see his face reflected in the window glass. His eyes looked black. He was wearing
Shadowhunter mourning clothesthey didnt wear black to funerals, since black was the color of gear and

fighting. The color of death was white, and the white jacket Jace wore had scarlet runes woven into the material around the collar and wrists. Unlike battle runes, which were all about aggression and protection, these spoke a gentler language of healing and grief. There were bands of hammered metal around his wrists, too, with similar runes on them. Alec was dressed the same way, all in white with the same red-gold runes traced over the material. It made his hair look very

black.
Jace, Clary thought, on the other hand, all in white, looked like an angel. Albeit one of the avenging kind. Youre not mad at Clary. Or Simon,
Alec said. At least, he added, with a faint, worried frown, I dont think you re mad at Simon.
Clary half-expected Jace to snap an angry retort, but all he said was,
Clary knows I m not angry at her.
Simon, leaning his elbows on the back of the sofa, rolled his eyes but

said only, What I dont get is how
Valentine managed to kill the
Inquisitor. I thought Projections couldn t actually affect anything.
They shouldnt be able to, said Alec.
Theyre just illusions. So much colored air, so to speak.
Well, not in this case. He reached into the Inquisitor and he twisted
Clary shuddered. There was a lot of blood. Like a special bonus for you, Jace said to Simon.
Simon ignored this. Has there ever

been an Inquisitor who didnt die a horrible death? he wondered aloud.
Its like being the drummer in Spi al
Tap.
Alec rubbed a hand across his face.
I cant believe my parents dont know about this yet, he said. I cant say Im looking forward to telling them.
Where are your parents? asked
Clary. I thought they were upstairs.
Alec shook his head. Theyre still at the necropolis. At Maxs grave.
They sent us back. They wanted to be there alone for a while.

What about Isabelle? Simon asked.
Where is she?
The humor, such as it was, left
Jaces expression. She wont come out of her room, he said. She thinks what happened to Max was her fault. She wouldnt even come to the funeral. Have you tried talking to her?
No, Jace said, weve been punching her repeatedly in the face instead.
Why, do you think that won t work?
Just thought I d ask. Simon s tone was mild. Well tell her this stuff about
Sebastian not actually being
Sebastian, said Alec. It might make her feel better. She thinks she ought to have been able to tell that there was something off about Sebastian, but if he was a spy Alec shrugged.
Nobody noticed anything off about him. Not even the Penhallows.
I thought he was a knob, Jace pointed out.
Yes, but thats just because Alec sank deeper into his chair. He looked exhausted, his skin a pale

gray color against the stark white of his clothes. It hardly matters. Once she finds out what Valentines threatening, nothings going to cheer her up.
But would he really do it? Clary asked. Send a demon army against
NephilimI mean, hes still a
Shadowhunter, isnt he? He couldnt destroy all his own people.
He didnt care enough about his children not to destroy them, Jace said, meeting her eyes across the room. Their gazes held. What makes

you think hed care about his people? Alec looked from one of them to the other, and Clary could tell from his expression that Jace hadnt told him about Ithuriel yet. He looked baffled, and very sad. Jace
This does explain one thing, Jace said without looking at Alec.
Magnus was trying to see if he could use a tracking rune on any of the things Sebastian had left in his room, to see if we could locate him that way. He said he wasnt getting

much of a reading on anything we gave him. Just flat.
What does that mean?
They were Sebastian Verlacs things. The fake Sebastian probably took them whenever he intercepted him. And Magnus isnt getting anything from them because the real
Sebastian
Is probably dead, finished Alec.
And the Sebastian we know is too smart to leave anything behind that could be used to track him. I mean, you cant track somebody from just

anything. It has to be an object thats in some way very connected to that person. A family heirloom, or a stele, or a brush with some hair in it, something like that.
Which is too bad, said Jace, because if we could follow him, hed probably lead us straight to
Valentine. Im sure hes scuttled right back to his master with a full report.
Probably told him all about Hodges crackpot mirror-lake theory.
It might not have been crackpot,
Alec said. Theyve stationed guards

at the paths that go to the lake, and set up wards that will warn them if anyone Portals there.
Fantastic. Im sure we all feel very safe now. Jace leaned back against the wall.
What I dont get, Simon said, is why
Sebastian stayed around. After what he did to Izzy and Max, he was going to get caught, there was no more pretending. I mean, even if he thought hed killed Izzy instead of just knocking her out, how was he going to explain that they were both

dead and he was still fine? No, he was busted. So why hang around through the fighting? Why come up to the Gard to get me? I m pretty sure he didnt actually care one way or the other whether I lived or died.
Now youre being too hard on him,
Jace said. Im sure hed rather youd died. Actually, Clary said, I think he stayed because of me.
Jaces gaze flicked up to hers with a flash of gold. Because of you?
Hoping for another hot date, was

he?
Clary felt herself flush. No. And our date wasn t hot. In fact, it wasn t even a date. Anyway, thats not the point.
When he came into the Hall, he kept trying to get me to go outside with him so we could talk. He wanted something from me. I just dont know what. Or maybe he just wanted you, Jace said. Seeing Clarys expression, he added, Not that way. I mean maybe he wanted to bring you to Valentine.
Valentine doesnt care about me,

Clary said. Hes only ever cared about you.
Something flickered in the depths of
Jaces eyes. Is that what you call it?
His expression was frighteningly bleak. After what happened on the boat, hes interested in you. Which means you need to be careful. Very careful. In fact, it wouldnt hurt if you just spent the next few days inside. You can lock yourself in your room like Isabelle.
I m not going to do that.
Of course youre not, said Jace,

because you live to torture me, dont you? Not everything, Jace, is about you,
Clary said furiously.
Possibly, Jace said, but you have to admit that the majority of things are.
Clary resisted the urge to scream.
Simon cleared his throat. Speaking of Isabellewhich we only sort of were, but I thought I ought to mention this before the arguing really got under wayI think maybe I should go talk to her.
You? Alec said, and then, looking

faintly embarrassed by his own discomfiture, added quickly, Its justshe wont even come out of her room for her own family. Why would she come out for you?
Maybe because Im not family,
Simon said. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders back. Earlier, when Clary had been sitting close to him, she had seen that there was still a thin white line circling his neck, where
Valentine had cut his throat, and scars on his wrists where those had

been cut too. His encounters with the Shadowhunters world had changed him, and not just the surface of him, or even his blood; the change went deeper than that.
He stood straight, with his head up, and took whatever Jace and Alec threw at him and didnt seem to care.
The Simon who would have been frightened of them, or made uneasy by them, was gone.
She felt a sudden pain in her heart, and realized with a jolt what it was.
She
was missing himmissing

Simon. Simon as he had been.

I think Ill have a try at getting
Isabelle to talk to me, said Simon. It can t hurt.
But its almost dark, Clary said. We told Luke and Amatis wed be back before the sun went down.
Ill walk you back, Jace said. As for
Simon, he can manage his own way back in the dark can t you, Simon?
Of course he can, Alec said indignantly, as if eager to make up for his earlier slighting of Simon.
Hes a vampire and, he added, I just now realized you were probably

joking. Never mind me.
Simon smiled. Clary opened her mouth to protest againand closed it.
Partly because she was, she knew, being unreasonable. And partly because there was a look on Jaces face as he gazed past her, at Simon, a look that startled her into silence:
It was amusement, Clary thought, mixed with gratitude and maybe evenmost surprising of alla little bit of respect.

It was a short walk between the
Lightwoods new house and
Amatiss; Clary wished it were longer. She couldnt shake the feeling that every moment she spent with Jace was somehow precious and limited, that they were closing in on some half- invisible deadline that would separate them forever.
She looked sideways at him. He was staring straight ahead, almost as if she werent there. The line of

his profile was sharp and clearedged in the witchlight that illuminated the streets. His hair curled against his cheek, not quite hiding the white scar on one temple where a Mark had been. She could see a line of metal glittering at his throat, where the Morgenstern ring dangled on its chain. His left hand was bare; his knuckles looked raw.
So he really was healing like a mundane, as Alec had asked him to.
She shivered. Jace glanced at her.
Are you cold?

I was just thinking, she said. Im surprised that Valentine went after the Inquisitor instead of Luke. The
Inquisitors a Shadowhunter, and
LukeLukes a Downworlder. Plus,
Valentine hates him.
But in a way, he respects him, even if he is a Downworlder, Jace said, and Clary thought of the look Jace had given Simon earlier, and then tried not to think of it. She hated thinking of Jace and Valentine as being in any way alike, even in so trivial a thing as a glance. Luke is

trying to get the Clave to change, to think in a new way. Thats exactly what Valentine did, even if his goals were well, not the same. Luke s an iconoclast. He wants change. To
Valentine, the Inquisitor represents the old, hidebound Clave he hates so much.
And they were friends once, Clary said. Luke and Valentine.
The Marks of that which once hath been, Jace said, and Clary could tell he was quoting something, from the half-mocking tone in his voice.

Unfortunately, you never really hate anyone as much as someone you cared about once. I imagine
Valentine has something special planned for Luke, down the road, after he takes over.
But he wont take over, said Clary, and when Jace said nothing, her voice rose. He won t winhe cant. He doesnt really want war, not against
Shadowhunters and Downworlders
What
makes you think
Shadowhunters will fight with
Downworlders? Jace said, and he

still wasnt looking at her. They were walking along the canal street, and he was looking out at the water, his jaw set. Just because Luke says so? Luke s an idealist.
And why is that a bad thing to be?
Its not. Im just not one, said Jace, and Clary felt a cold pang in her heart at the emptiness in his voice.
Despair, anger, hate. These are demon qualities. Hes acting the way he thinks he should act.
They had reached Amatiss house;
Clary stopped at the foot of the

steps, turning to face him. Maybe, she said. But youre not like him, either. Jace started a little at that, or maybe it was just the firmness in her tone.
He turned his head to look at her for what felt like the first time since theyd left the Lightwoods. Clary, he began, and broke off, with an intake of breath. Theres blood on your sleeve. Are you hurt?
He moved toward her, taking her wrist in his hand. Clary glanced down and saw to her surprise that

he was rightthere was an irregular scarlet stain on the right sleeve of her coat. What was odd was that it was still bright red. Shouldnt dried blood be a darker color? She frowned. That s not my blood.
He relaxed slightly, his grip on her wrist loosening. Is it the
Inquisitor s?
She shook her head. I actually think it s Sebastian s.
Sebastian s blood?
Yeswhen he came into the Hall the other night, remember, his face was

bleeding. I think Isabelle must have clawed him, but anywayI touched his face and got his blood on me.
She looked more closely at it. I thought Amatis washed the coat, but
I guess she didn t.
She expected him to let go of her then, but instead he held her wrist for a long moment, examining the blood, before returning her arm to her, apparently satisfied. Thanks.
She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. Youre not going to tell me what that was

about, are you?
Not a chance.
She threw her arms up in exasperation. Im going inside. Ill see you later.
She turned and headed up the steps to Amatiss front door. There was no way she could have known that the moment she turned her back, the smile vanished from Jaces face, or that he stood for a long time in the darkness once the door closed behind her, looking after her, and twisting a small piece of thread

over and over between his fingers.

Isabelle, Simon said. It had taken him a few tries to find her door, but the scream of Go away! that had emanated from behind this one convinced him hed made the right choice. Isabelle, let me in.
There was a muffled thump and the door reverberated slightly, as if
Isabelle had thrown something at it.

Possibly a shoe. I dont want to talk to you and Clary. I dont want to talk to anyone. Leave me alone, Simon.
Clary s not here, said Simon. And I m not going away until you talk to me.
Alec! Isabelle yelled. Jace! Make him go away!
Simon waited. There was no sound from downstairs. Either Alec had left or he was lying low. Theyre not here, Isabelle. It s just me.
There was a silence. Finally
Isabelle spoke again. This time her voice came from much nearer, as if

she were standing just on the other side of the door. You re alone?
I m alone, Simon said.
The door cracked open. Isabelle was standing there in a black slip, her hair lying long and tangled over her shoulders. Simon had never seen her like this: barefoot, with her hair unbrushed, and no makeup on.
You can come in.
He stepped past her into the room.
In the light from the door he could see that it looked, as his mother would have said, like a tornado had

hit it. Clothes were scattered across the floor in piles, a duffel bag open on the floor as if it had exploded.
Isabelles bright silver-gold whip hung from one bedpost, a lacy white bra from another. Simon averted his eyes. The curtains were drawn, the lamps extinguished.
Isabelle flopped down on the edge of the bed and looked at him with bitter amusement. A blushing vampire. Who would have guessed.
She raised her chin. So, I let you in.
What do you want?

Despite her angry glare, Simon thought she looked younger than usual, her eyes huge and black in her pinched white face. He could see the white scars that traced her light skin, all over her bare arms, her back and collarbones, even her l e g s . If Clary remains a
Shadowhunter, he thought, one day shell look like this, scarred all over. The thought didnt upset him as once it might have done. There was something about the way Isabelle wore her scars, as if she were

proud of them.
She had something in her hands, something she was turning over and over between her fingers. It was a small something that glinted dully in the half-light. He thought for a moment it might be a piece of jewelry. What happened to Max, Simon said.
It wasn t your fault.
She didnt look at him. She was staring down at the object in her hands. Do you know what this is? she said, and held it up. It seemed to

be a small toy soldier, carved out of wood. A toy Shadowhunter, Simon realized, complete with painted-on black gear. The silver glint hed noticed was the paint on the little sword it held; it was nearly worn away. It was Jaces, she said, without waiting for him to answer.
It was the only toy he had when he came from Idris. I dont know, maybe it was part of a bigger set once. I think he made it himself, but he never said much about it. He used to take it everywhere with him

when he was little, always in a pocket or whatever. Then one day I noticed Max carrying it around.
Jace must have been around thirteen then. He just gave it to Max, I guess, when he got too old for it. Anyway, it was in Maxs hand when they found him. It was like he grabbed it to hold on to when Sebastianwhen he She broke off. The effort she was making not to cry was visible; her mouth was set in a grimace, as if it were twisting itself out of shape. I should have been there protecting

him. I should have been there for him to hold on to, not some stupid little wooden toy. She flung it down onto the bed, her eyes shining.
You were unconscious, Simon protested. You nearly died, Izzy.
There was nothing you could have done. Isabelle shook her head, her tangled hair bouncing on her shoulders. She looked fierce and wild. What do you know about it? she demanded.
Did you know that Max came to us the night he died and told us hed

seen someone climbing the demon towers, and I told him he was dreaming and sent him away? And he was right. I bet it was that bastard Sebastian, climbing the tower so he could take the wards down. And Sebastian killed him so he couldnt tell anyone what hed seen. If Id just listenedjust taken one second to listenit wouldnt have happened. Theres no way you could have known, Simon said. And about
Sebastianhe wasnt really the

Penhallows cousin. He had everyone fooled.
Isabelle didnt look surprised. I know, she said. I heard you talking to Alec and Jace. I was listening from the top of the stairs.
You were eavesdropping?
She shrugged. Up to the part where you said you were going to come and talk to me. Then I came back here. I didnt feel like seeing you.
She looked at him sideways. Ill give you this much, though: Youre persistent. Look, Isabelle. Simon took a step forward. He was oddly, suddenly conscious of the fact that she wasnt very dressed, so he held back from putting a hand on her shoulder or doing anything else overtly soothing. When my father died, I knew it wasnt my fault, but I still kept thinking over and over of all the things I should have done, should have said, before he died.
Yeah, well, this is my fault, Isabelle said. And what I should have done is listened. And what I still can do

is track down the bastard who did this and kill him.
I m not sure that ll help
How do you know? Isabelle demanded. Did you find the person responsible for your fathers death and kill him?
My father had a heart attack, Simon said. So, no.
Then you dont know what youre talking about, do you? Isabelle raised her chin and looked at him squarely. Come here.
What?

She beckoned imperiously with her index finger. Come here, Simon.
Reluctantly he came toward her. He was barely a foot away when she seized him by the front of his shirt, yanking him toward her. Their faces were inches apart; he could see how the skin below her eyes shone with the marks of recent tears. You know what I really need right now? she said, enunciating each word clearly. Um, Simon said. No?
To be distracted, she said, and with

a half turn yanked him bodily onto the bed beside her.
He landed on his back amid a tangled pile of clothes. Isabelle,
Simon protested weakly, do you really think this is going to make you feel any better?
Trust me, Isabelle said, placing a hand on his chest, just over his unbeating heart. I feel better already. Clary lay awake in bed, staring up at a single patch of moonlight as it made its way across the ceiling.
Her nerves were still too jangled from the events of the day for her to sleep, and it didnt help that Simon hadnt come back before dinneror after it. Eventually shed voiced her concern to Luke, whod thrown on a coat and headed over to the
Lightwoods. Hed returned looking amused. Simons fine, Clary, he said. Go to bed. And then hed left

again, with Amatis, off to another one of their interminable meetings at the Accords Hall. She wondered if anyone had cleaned up the
Inquisitor s blood yet.
With nothing else to do, shed gone to bed, but sleep had remained stubbornly out of reach. Clary kept seeing Valentine in her head, reaching into the Inquisitor and ripping his heart out. The way he had turned to her and said, You d keep your mouth shut, for your brothers sake if not your own.

Above all, the secrets she had learned from Ithuriel lay like a weight on her chest. Under all these anxieties was the fear, constant as a heartbeat, that her mother would die. Where was Magnus?
There was a rustling sound by the curtains, and a sudden wash of moonlight poured into the room.
Clary sat bolt upright, scrabbling for the seraph blade she kept on her bedside table.
Its all right. A hand came down on hersa slender, scarred, familiar

hand. It s me.
Clary drew her breath in sharply, and he took his hand back. Jace, she said. What are you doing here?
What s wrong?
For a moment he didnt answer, and she twisted to look at him, pulling the bedclothes up around her. She felt herself flush, acutely conscious of the fact that she was wearing only pajama bottoms and a flimsy camisoleand then she saw his expression, and her embarrassment faded. Jace? she whispered. He was standing by the head of her bed, still wearing his white mourning clothes, and there was nothing light or sarcastic or distant in the way he was looking down at her. He was very pale, and his eyes looked haunted and nearly black with strain. Are you all right?
I dont know, he said in the dazed manner of someone just waking up from a dream. I wasnt going to come here. Ive been wandering around all nightI couldnt sleepand I

kept finding myself walking here.
To you.
She sat up straighter, letting the bedclothes fall down around her hips. Why cant you sleep? Did something happen? she asked, and immediately felt stupid. What hadn t happened? Jace, however, barely seemed to hear the question. I had to see you, he said, mostly to himself. I know I shouldn t. But I had to.
Well, sit down, then, she said, pulling her legs back to make a

space for him to sit at the edge of the bed. Because youre freaking me out. Are you sure nothings happened? I didnt say nothing happened. He sat down on the bed, facing her. He was close enough that she could have just leaned forward and kissed him Her chest tightened. Is there bad news? Is everything is everyone
Its not bad, said Jace, and its not news. Its the opposite of news. Its something Ive always known, and

youyou probably know it too. God knows I havent hid it all that well.
His eyes searched her face, slowly, as if he meant to memorize it. What happened, he said, and hesitatedis that I realized something.
Jace, she whispered suddenly, and for no reason she could identify, she was frightened of what he was about to say. Jace, you don t have to
I was trying to gosomewhere, Jace said. But I kept getting pulled back here. I couldnt stop walking, couldn t stop thinking. About the first

time I ever saw you, and how after that I couldnt forget you. I wanted to, but I couldnt stop myself. I forced Hodge to let me be the one who came to find you and bring you back to the Institute. And even back then, in that stupid coffee shop, when I saw you sitting on that couch with Simon, even then that felt wrong to meI should have been the one sitting with you. The one who made you laugh like that. I couldnt get rid of that feeling. That it should have been me. And the more I knew

you, the more I felt itit had never been like that for me before. Id always wanted a girl and then gotten to know her and not wanted her anymore, but with you the feeling just got stronger and stronger until that night when you showed up at Renwicks and I knew.
And then to find out that the reason I felt like thatlike you were some part of me Id lost and never even knew I was missing until I saw you againthat the reason was that you were my sister, it felt like some sort

of cosmic joke. Like God was spitting on me. I dont even know for whatfor thinking that I could actually get to have you, that I would deserve something like that, to be that happy. I couldnt imagine what it was Id done that I was being punished for
If youre being punished, Clary said, then so am I. Because all those things you felt, I felt them too, but we cantwe have to stop feeling this way, because it s our only chance.
Jaces hands were tight at his sides.

Our only chance for what?
To be together at all. Because otherwise we cant ever be around each other, not even just in the same room, and I cant stand that. Id rather have you in my life even as a brother than not at all
And Im supposed to sit by while you date boys, fall in love with someone else, get married? His voice tightened. And meanwhile, Ill die a little bit more every day, watching. No. You wont care by then, she

said, wondering even as she said it if she could stand the idea of a Jace who didnt care. She hadnt thought as far ahead as he had, and when she tried to imagine watching him fall in love with someone else, marry someone else, she couldnt even picture it, couldnt picture anything but an empty black tunnel that stretched out ahead of her, forever. Please. If we dont say anything if we just pretend
There is no pretending, Jace said with absolute clarity. I love you,

and I will love you until I die, and if theres a life after that, Ill love you then. She caught her breath. He had said itthe words there was no going back from. She struggled for a reply, but none came.
And I know you think I just want to be with you toto show myself what a monster I am, he said. And maybe
I am a monster. I dont know the answer to that. But what I do know is that even if theres demon blood inside me, there is human blood

inside me as well. And I couldnt love you like I do if I wasnt at least a little bit human. Because demons want. But they don t love. And I
He stood up then, with a sort of violent suddenness, and crossed the room to the window. He looked lost, as lost as he had in the Great
Hall standing over Max s body.
Jace? Clary said, alarmed, and when he didnt answer, she scrambled to her feet and went to him, laying her hand on his arm. He continued staring out the window;

their reflections in the glass were nearly transparentghostly outlines of a tall boy and a smaller girl, her hand clamped anxiously on his sleeve. What s wrong?
I shouldnt have told you like that, he said, not looking at her. Im sorry.
That was probably a lot to take in.
You looked soshocked. The tension underlying his voice was a live wire. I was, she said. Ive spent the past few days wondering if you hated me. And then I saw you tonight and I

was pretty sure you did.
Hated you? he echoed, looking bewildered. He reached out then and touched her face, lightly, just the tips of his fingers against her skin. I told you I couldnt sleep.
Tomorrow by midnight well be either at war or under Valentines rule. This could be the last night of our lives, certainly the last even barely ordinary one. The last night we go to sleep and get up just as we always have. And all I could think of was that I wanted to spend it with

you.
Her heart skipped a beat. Jace
I dont mean it like that, he said. I wont touch you, not if you dont want me to. I know its wrongGod, its all kinds of wrongbut I just want to lie down with you and wake up with you, just once, just once ever in my life. There was desperation in his voice. Its just this one night. In the grand scheme of things, how much can one night matter?
Because think how well feel in the morning. Think how much worse it

will be pretending that we dont mean anything to each other in front of everyone else after weve spent the night together, even if all we do is sleep. Its like having just a little bit of a drugit only makes you want more.
But that was why he had told her what he had, she realized. Because it wasnt true, not for him; there was nothing that could make it worse, just as there was nothing that could make it better. What he felt was as final as a life sentence, and could

she really say it was so different for her? And even if she hoped it might be, even if she hoped she might someday be persuaded by time or reason or gradual attrition not to feel this way anymore, it didnt matter. There was nothing she had ever wanted in her life more than she wanted this night with Jace.
Close the curtains, then, before you come to bed, she said. I cant sleep with this much light in the room.
The look that washed over his face was pure incredulity. He really

hadnt expected her to say yes, Clary realized in surprise, and a moment later he had caught her and hugged her to him, his face buried in her still-messy-from-sleep hair. Clary
Come to bed, she said softly. Its late. She drew away from him and returned to the bed, crawling up onto it and drawing the covers up to her waist. Somehow, looking at him like this, she could almost imagine that things were different, that it was many years from now and they d been together so long that theyd

done this a hundred times, that every night belonged to them, and not just this one. She propped her chin on her hands and watched him as he reached to jerk the curtains shut and then unzipped his white jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. He was wearing a pale gray
T-shirt underneath, and the Marks that twined his bare arms shone darkly as he unbuckled his weapons belt and laid it on the floor. He unlaced his boots and stepped out of them as he came toward the bed,

and he stretched out very carefully beside Clary. Lying on his back, he turned his head to look at her. A very little light filtered into the room past the edge of the curtains, just enough for her to see the outline of his face and the bright gleam of his eyes.
Good night, Clary, he said.
His hands lay flat on either side of him, his arms at his sides. He seemed barely to be breathing; she wasnt sure she was breathing herself. She slid her own hand

across the bed-sheet, just far enough that their fingers touchedso lightly that she would probably hardly have been aware of it had she been touching anyone but Jace; as it was, the nerve endings in her fingertips prickled softly, as if she were holding them over a low flame. She felt him tense beside her and then relax. He had shut his eyes, and his lashes cast fine shadows against the curve of his cheekbones. His mouth curled into a smile as if he sensed her watching him, and she

wondered how he would look in the morning, with his hair messed and sleep circles under his eyes.
Despite everything, the thought gave her a jolt of happiness.
She laced her fingers through his.
Good night, she whispered. With their hands clasped like children in a fairy tale, she fell asleep beside him in the dark.

15

THINGS FALL APART

Luke had spent most of the night watching the moons progress across the translucent roof of the
Hall of Accords like a silver coin rolling across the clear surface of a glass table. When the moon was close to full, as it was right now, he felt a corresponding sharpening in his vision and sense of smell, even when he was in human form. Now, for instance, he could smell the

sweat of doubt in the room, and the underlying sharp tang of fear. He could sense the restless worry of his pack of wolves out in Brocelind
Forest as they paced the darkness beneath the trees and waited for news from him.
Lucian. Amatiss voice in his ear was low but piercing. Lucian!
Snapped out of his reverie, Luke fought to focus his exhausted eyes on the scene in front of him. It was a ragged little group, those who had agreed to at least listen to his plan.

Fewer than he had hoped for. Many he knew from his old life in Idristhe
Penhallows, the Lightwoods, the
Ravenscarsand just as many he had just met, like the Monteverdes, who ran the Lisbon Institute and spoke in a mixture of Portuguese and
English, or Nasreen Chaudhury, the stern-featured head of the Mumbai
Institute. Her dark green sari was patterned in elaborate runes of such a bright silver that Luke instinctively flinched when she passed too close.

Really, Lucian, said Maryse
Lightwood. Her small white face was pinched by exhaustion and grief. Luke hadnt really expected either her or her husband to come, but they had agreed almost as soon as hed mentioned it to them. He supposed he ought to be grateful they were here at all, even if grief did tend to make Maryse more sharp-tempered than usual. Youre the one who wanted us all here; the least you can do is pay attention.
He has been. Amatis sat with her

legs drawn under her like a young girl, but her expression was firm. It s not Lucians fault that weve been going around in circles for the past hour. And well keep going around and around until we figure out a solution, said Patrick Penhallow, an edge to his voice.
With all due respect, Patrick, said
Nasreen, in her clipped accent, there may be no solution to this problem. The best we can hope for is a plan.

A plan that doesnt involve either mass slavery or, began Jia, Patricks wife, and then she broke off, biting her lip. She was a pretty, slender woman who looked very like her daughter, Aline. Luke remembered when Patrick had run off to the
Beijing Institute and married her. It had been something of a scandal, as hed been supposed to marry a girl his parents had already picked out for him in Idris. But Patrick never had liked to do what he was told, a quality for which Luke was now

grateful.
Or
allying ourselves with
Downworlders? said Luke. Im afraid there s no way around that.
Thats not the problem, and you know it, said Maryse. Its the whole business about seats on the Council.
The Clave will never agree to it.
You know that. Four whole seats
Not four, Luke said. One each for the Fair Folk, the Moons Children, and the children of Lilith.
The warlocks, the fey, and the lycanthropes, said soft-voiced

Senhor Monteverde, his eyebrows arched. And what of the vampires?
They havent promised me anything,
Luke admitted. And I havent promised them anything either. They may not be eager to join the
Council; theyre none too fond of my kind, and none too fond of meetings and rules. But the door is open to them should they change their minds. Malachi and his lot will never agree to it, and we may not have enough Council votes without them,

muttered Patrick. Besides, without the vampires, what chance do we have? A very good one, snapped Amatis, who seemed to believe in Lukes plan even more than he did. There are many Downworlders who will fight with us, and they are powerful indeed. The warlocks alone
With a shake of her head Senhora
Monteverde turned to her husband.
This plan is mad. It will never work. Downworlders cannot be trusted. It worked during the Uprising, said
Luke.
The Portuguese womans lips curled back. Only because Valentine was fighting with fools for an army, she said. Not demons. And how are we to know his old Circle members will not go back to him the moment he calls them to his side?
Be careful what you say, Senhora, rumbled Robert Lightwood. It was the first time he had spoken in more than an hour; hed spent most of the evening motionless, immobilized by

sorrow. There were lines in his face Luke could have sworn hadnt been there three days ago. His torment was plain in his taut shoulders and clenched fists; Luke could hardly blame him. He had never much liked Robert, but there was something about the sight of such a big man made helpless by grief that was painful to witness. If you think I would join with
Valentine after Maxs deathhe had my boy murdered
Robert, Maryse murmured. She put

her hand on his arm.
If we do not join with him, said
Senhor Monteverde, all our children may die.
If you think that, then why are you here? Amatis rose to her feet. I thought we had agreed
So did I. Lukes head ached. It was always like this with them, he thought, two steps forward and a step back. They were as bad as warring Downworlders themselves, if only they could see it. Maybe theyd all be better off if they solved

their problems with combat, the way the pack did
A flash of movement at the doors of the Hall caught his eye. It was momentary, and if it had not been so close to the full moon, he might not have seen it, or recognized the figure who passed quickly before the doors. He wondered for a moment if he was imagining things.
Sometimes, when he was very tired, he thought he saw Jocelynin the flicker of a shadow, in the play of light on a wall.

But this wasnt Jocelyn. Luke rose to his feet. Im taking five minutes for some air. Ill be back. He felt them watching him as he made his way to the front doorsall of them, even
Amatis.
Senhor
Monteverde
whispered something to his wife in
Portuguese; Luke caught lobo, the word for wolf, in the stream of w or ds . They probably think Im going outside to run in circles and bark at the moon.
The air outside was fresh and cold, the sky a slate-steel gray. Dawn

reddened the sky in the east and gave a pale pink cast to the white marble steps leading down from the
Hall doors. Jace was waiting for him, halfway down the stairs. The white mourning clothes he wore hit
Luke like a slap in the face, a reminder of all the death theyd just endured here, and were about to endure again.
Luke paused several steps above
Jace. What are you doing here,
Jonathan?
Jace said nothing, and Luke

mentally cursed his forgetfulnessJace didnt like being called Jonathan and usually responded to the name with a sharp objection. This time, though, he didnt seem to care. The face he raised to Luke was as grimly set as the faces of any of the adults in the
Hall. Though Jace was still a year away from being an adult under
Clave law, hed already seen worse things in his short life than most adults could even imagine.
Were you looking for your parents?

You mean the Lightwoods? Jace shook his head. No. I dont want to talk to them. I was looking for you.
Is it about Clary? Luke descended several steps until he stood just above Jace. Is she all right?
Shes fine. The mention of Clary seemed to make Jace tense all over, which in turn sparked Lukes nervesbut Jace would never say
Clary was all right if she weren t.
Then what is it?
Jace looked past him, toward the doors of the Hall. How is it going in

there? Any progress?
Not really, Luke admitted. As much as they dont want to surrender to
Valentine, they like the idea of
Downworlders on the Council even less. And without the promise of seats on the Council, my people won t fight.
Jaces eyes sparked. The Clave is going to hate that idea.
They dont have to love it. They only have to like it better than they like the idea of suicide.
Theyll stall, Jace advised him. Id

give them a deadline if I were you.
The Clave works better with deadlines. Luke couldnt help but smile. All the
Downworlders I can summon will be approaching the North Gate at twilight. If the Clave agrees to fight with them by then, theyll enter the city. If not, theyll turn around. I couldnt leave it any later than thatit barely gives us enough time to get to
Brocelind by midnight as it is.
Jace whistled. Thats theatrical.
Hoping the sight of all those

Downworlders will inspire the
Clave, or scare them?
Probably a little of both. Many of the Clave members are associated with Institutes, like you; theyre a lot more used to the sight of
Downworlders. Its the native
Idrisians Im worried about. The sight of Downworlders at their gates might send them into a panic.
On the other hand, it cant hurt for them to be reminded how vulnerable they are.
As if on cue, Jaces gaze flicked up

to the ruins of the Gard, a black scar on the hillside over the city. Im not sure anyone needs more reminders of that. He glanced back at Luke, his clear eyes very serious. I want to tell you something, and I want it to be in confidence.
Luke couldnt hide his surprise. Why tell me? Why not the Lightwoods?
Because youre the one whos in charge here, really. You know that.
Luke hesitated. Something about
Jaces white and tired face drew sympathy out of his own

exhaustionsympathy and a desire to show this boy, who had been so betrayed and badly used by the adults in his life, that not all adults were like that, that there were some he could rely on. All right.
And, Jace said, because I trust you to know how to explain it to Clary.
Explain what to Clary?
Why I had to do it. Jaces eyes were wide in the light of the rising sun; it made him look years younger. Im going after Sebastian, Luke. I know how to find him, and Im going to

follow him until he leads me to
Valentine.
Luke let his breath out in surprise.
You know how to find him?
Magnus showed me how to use a tracking spell when I was staying with him in Brooklyn. We were trying to use my fathers ring to find him. It didn t work, but
Youre not a warlock. You shouldnt be able to do a tracking spell.
These are runes. Like the way the
Inquisitor watched me when I went to see Valentine on the ship. All I

needed to make it work was something of Sebastian s.
But we went over this with the
Penhallows. He left nothing behind.
His room was utterly cleared out, probably for exactly this reason.
I found something, said Jace. A thread soaked in his blood. Its not much, but its enough. I tried it, and it worked.
You cant go haring off after
Valentine on your own, Jace. I wont let you.
You cant stop me. Not really.

Unless you want to fight me right here on these steps. You wont win, either. You know that as well as I do. There was a strange note in
Jaces voice, a mixture of certainty and self-hatred.
Look, however determined you may be to play the solitary hero
I am not a hero, Jace said. His voice was clear and toneless, as if he were stating the simplest of facts.
Think of what this will do to the
Lightwoods, even if nothing happens to you. Think of Clary

You think I haven t thought of Clary?
You think I havent thought of my family? Why do you think Im doing this? Do you think I dont remember what its like to be seventeen? Luke answered. To think you have the power to save the worldand not just the power but the responsibility
Look at me, said Jace. Look at me and tell me Im an ordinary seventeen-year-old. Luke sighed. Theres nothing ordinary about you.

Now tell me its impossible. Tell me what Im suggesting cant be done.
When Luke said nothing, Jace went on, Look, your plan is fine, as far as that goes. Bring in Downworlders, fight Valentine all the way to the gates of Alicante. Its better than just lying down and letting him walk over you. But hell expect it. You wont be catching him by surprise. II could catch him by surprise. He may not know Sebastians being followed. Its a chance at least, and we have to take whatever chances

we can get.
That may be true, said Luke. But this is too much to expect of any one person. Even you.
But dont you seeit can only be me,
Jace said, desperation creeping into his voice. Even if Valentine senses
Im following him, he might let me get close enough
Close enough to do what?
To kill him, said Jace. What else?
Luke looked at the boy standing below him on the stairs. He wished in some way he could reach through

and see Jocelyn in her son, the way he saw her in Clary, but Jace was only, and always, himselfcontained, alone, and separate. You could do that? Luke said. You could kill your own father?
Yes, Jace said, his voice as distant as an echo. Now is this where you tell me I cant kill him because he is, after all, my father, and patricide is an unforgivable crime?
No. This is where I tell you that you have to be sure youre capable of it, said Luke, and realized, to his own

surprise, that some part of him had already accepted that Jace was going to do exactly what he said he was going to do, and that he would let him. You cant do all this, cut your ties here and hunt Valentine down on your own, just to fail at the final hurdle.
Oh, said Jace, Im capable of it. He looked away from Luke, down the steps toward the square that until yesterday morning had been full of bodies. My father made me what I am. And I hate him for it. I can kill

him. He made sure of that.
Luke shook his head. Whatever your upbringing, Jace, youve fought it.
He didn t corrupt you
No, Jace said. He didnt have to. He glanced up at the sky, striped with blue and gray; birds had begun their morning songs in the trees lining the square. I d better go.
Is there something you wanted me to tell the Lightwoods?
No. No, dont tell them anything.
Theyll just blame you if they find out you knew what I was going to

do and you let me go. I left notes, he added. They ll figure it out.
Then why
Did I tell you all this? Because I want you to know. I want you to keep it in mind while you make your battle plans. That Im out there, looking for Valentine. If I find him,
Ill send you a message. He smiled fleetingly. Think of me as your backup plan.
Luke reached out and clasped the boys hand. If your father werent who he is, he said, hed be proud of

you.
Jace looked surprised for a moment, and then just as quickly he flushed and drew his hand back. If you knew, he began, and bit his lip.
Never mind. Good luck to you,
Lucian Graymark. Ave atque vale.
Let us hope there will be no real farewell, Luke said. The sun was rising fast now, and as Jace lifted his head, frowning at the sudden intensification of the light, there was something in his face that struck Luke something in that mixture

of vulnerability and stubborn pride.
You remind me of someone, he said without thinking. Someone I knew years ago.
I know, Jace said with a bitter twist to his mouth. I remind you of
Valentine.
No, said Luke, in a wondering voice; but as Jace turned away, the resemblance faded, banishing the ghosts of memory. NoI wasnt thinking of Valentine at all.

The moment Clary awoke, she knew
Jace was gone, even before she opened her eyes. Her hand, still outstretched across the bed, was empty; no fingers returned the pressure of her own. She sat up slowly, her chest tight.
He must have drawn the curtains back before he left, because the windows were open and bright bars of sunlight striped the bed. Clary wondered why the light hadnt

woken her. From the position of the sun, it had to be afternoon. Her head felt heavy and thick, her eyes bleary. Maybe it was just that she hadnt had nightmares last night, for the first time in so long, and her body was catching up on sleep.
It was only when she stood up that she noticed the folded piece of paper on the nightstand. She picked it up with a smile hovering around her lipsso Jace had left a noteand when something heavy slid from beneath the paper and rattled to the

floor at her feet, she was so surprised that she jumped back, thinking it was alive.
It lay at her feet, a coil of bright metal. She knew what it was before she bent and picked it up. The chain and silver ring that Jace had worn around his neck. The family ring.
She had rarely seen him without it.
A sudden sensation of dread washed over her.
She opened the note and scanned the first lines: Despite everything, I cant bear the thought of this ring

being lost forever, any more than I can bear the thought of leaving you forever. And though I have no choice about the one, at least I can choose about the other.
The rest of the letter seemed to wash together into a meaningless blur of letters; she had to read it over and over to make any sense of it. When she did finally understand, she stood staring down, watching the paper flutter as her hand shook.
She understood now why Jace had told her everything he had, and why

he had said one night didnt matter.
You could say anything you wanted to someone you thought you were never going to see again.
She had no recollection, later, of having decided what to do next, or of having hunted for something to wear, but somehow she was hurrying down the stairs, dressed in
Shadowhunter gear, the letter in one hand and the chain with the ring clasped hastily around her throat.
The living room was empty, the fire in the grate burned down to gray

ash, but noise and light emanated from the kitchen: a chatter of voices, and the smell of something cooking. Pancakes? Clary thought in surprise. She wouldnt have thought Amatis knew how to make them. And she was right. Stepping into the kitchen, Clary felt her eyes widenIsabelle, her glossy dark hair swept up in a knot at the back of her neck, stood at the stove, an apron around her waist and a metal spoon in her hand. Simon was sitting on

the table behind her, his feet up on a chair, and Amatis, far from telling him to get off the furniture, was leaning against the counter, looking highly entertained.
Isabelle waved her spoon at Clary.
Good morning, she said. Would you like breakfast? Although, I guess its more like lunchtime.
Speechless, Clary looked at Amatis, who shrugged. They just showed up and wanted to make breakfast, she said, and I have to admit, Im not that good a cook.

Clary thought of Isabelles awful soup back at the Institute and suppressed a shudder. Wheres
Luke?
In Brocelind, with his pack, said
Amatis. Is everything all right,
Clary? You look a little
Wild-eyed, Simon finished for her.
Is everything all right?
For a moment Clary couldnt think of a reply. They just showed up,
Amatis had said. Which meant
Simon had spent the entire night at
Isabelles. She stared at him. He

didn t look any different.
Im fine, she said. Now was hardly the time to be worrying about
Simons love life. I need to talk to
Isabelle.
So talk, Isabelle said, poking at a misshapen object in the bottom of the frying pan that was, Clary feared, a pancake. I m listening.
Alone, said Clary.
Isabelle frowned. Cant it wait? Im almost done
No, Clary said, and there was something in her tone that made

Simon, at least, sit up straight. It can t. Simon slid off the table. Fine. Well give you two some privacy, he said.
He turned to Amatis. Maybe you could show me those baby pictures of Luke you were talking about.
Amatis shot a worried glance at
Clary but followed Simon out of the room. I suppose I could .
Isabelle shook her head as the door closed behind them. Something glinted at the back of her neck: a bright, delicately thin knife was

thrust through the coil of her hair, holding it in place. Despite the tableau of domesticity, she was still a Shadowhunter. Look, she said. If this is about Simon
Its not about Simon. Its about Jace.
She thrust the note at Isabelle. Read this. With a sigh Isabelle turned off the stove, took the note, and sat down to read it. Clary took an apple out of the basket on the table and sat down as Isabelle, across from her at the table, scanned the note silently.

Clary picked at the apple peel in silenceshe couldnt imagine actually eating the apple, or, in fact, eating anything at all, ever again.
Isabelle looked up from the note, her eyebrows arched. This seems kind ofpersonal. Are you sure I should be reading it?
Probably not. Clary could barely even remember the words in the letter now; in any other situation, she would never have showed it to
Isabelle, but her panic about Jace overrode every other concern. Just

read to the end.
Isabelle turned back to the note.
When she was done, she set the paper down on the table. I thought he might do something like this.
You see what I mean, Clary said, her words stumbling over themselves, but he cant have left that long ago, or gotten that far. We have to go after him and She broke off, her brain finally processing what Isabelle had said and catching up with her mouth. What do you mean, you thought he might do

something like this?
Just what I said. Isabelle pushed a dangling lock of hair behind her ears. Ever since Sebastian disappeared, everyones been talking about how to find him. I tore his room at the Penhallows apart looking for anything we could use to track himbut there was nothing. I might have known that if Jace found anything that would allow him to track Sebastian, hed be off like a shot. She bit her lip. I just would have hoped that hed have brought

Alec with him. Alec wont be happy.
So you think Alec will want to go after him, then? Clary asked, with renewed hope.
Clary. Isabelle sounded faintly exasperated. How are we supposed to go after him? How are we supposed to have the slightest idea where he s gone?
There must be some way
We can try to track him. Jace is smart, though. Hell have figured out some way to block the tracking, just like Sebastian did.

A cold anger stirred in Clary s chest.
Do you even want to find him? Do you even care that hes gone off on whats practically a suicide mission? He cant face down
Valentine all by himself.
Probably not, said Isabelle. But I trust that Jace has his reasons for
For what? For wanting to die?
Clary. Isabelles eyes blazed up with a sudden light of anger. Do you think the rest of us are safe? Were all waiting to die or be enslaved.
Can you really see Jace doing that,

just sitting around waiting for something awful to happen? Can you really see
All I see is that Jace is your brother just like Max was, said Clary, and you cared what happened to him.
She regretted it the moment she said it; Isabelles face went white, as if
Clarys words had bleached the color out of the other girls skin.
Max, Isabelle said with a tightly controlled fury, was a little boy, not a fighter he was nine years old. Jace is a Shadowhunter, a warrior. If we

fight Valentine, do you think Alec wont be in the battle? Do you think were not all of us, at all times, prepared to die if we have to, if the cause is great enough? Valentine is
Jaces father; Jace probably has the best chance of all of us of getting close to him to do what he has to do
Valentine will kill Jace if he has to,
Clary said. He won t spare him.
I know.
But all that matters is if he goes out in glory? Won t you even miss him?
I will miss him every day, Isabelle

said, for the rest of my life, which, lets face it, if Jace fails, will probably be about a week long. She shook her head. You dont get it,
Clary. You dont understand what its like to live always at war, to grow up with battle and sacrifice. I guess its not your fault. Its just how you were brought up
Clary held her hands up. I do get it.
I know you dont like me, Isabelle.
Because I m a mundane to you.
You think that s why Isabelle broke off, her eyes bright; not just with

anger, Clary saw with surprise, but with tears. God, you dont unde r s ta nd anything, do you?
Youve known Jace what, a month?
Ive known him for seven years. And all the time Ive known him, Ive never seen him fall in love, never seen him even like anyone. Hed hook up with girls, sure. Girls always fell in love with him, but he never cared. I think thats why Alec thought Isabelle stopped for a moment, holding herself very still.
Shes trying not to cry, Clary

thought in wonderIsabelle, who seemed like she never cried. It always worried me, and my mom, tooI mean, what kind of teenage boy never even gets a crush on anyone?
It was like he was always halfawake where other people were concerned. I thought maybe what had happened with his father had d o n e some sort of permanent damage to him, like maybe he never really could love anyone. If Id only known what had really happened with his fatherbut then I probably

would have thought the same thing, wouldnt I? I mean, who wouldn t have been damaged by that?
And then we met you, and it was like he woke up. You couldnt see it, because youd never known him any different. But I saw it. Hodge saw it. Alec saw itwhy do you think he hated you so much? It was like that from the second we met you. You thought it was amazing that you could see us, and it was, but what was amazing to me was that Jace could see you, too. He kept talking

about you all the way back to the
Institute; he made Hodge send him out to get you; and once he brought you back, he didnt want you to leave again. Wherever you were in the room, he watched you. He was even jealous of Simon. Im not sure he realized it himself, but he was. I could tell. Jealous of a mundane.
And then after what happened to
Simon at the party, he was willing to go with you to the Dumort, to break Clave Law, just to save a mundane he didnt even like. He did

it for you. Because if anything had happened to Simon, you would have been hurt. You were the first person outside our family whose happiness
Id ever seen him take into consideration. Because he loved you. Clary made a noise in the back of her throat. But that was before
Before he found out you were his sister. I know. And I don t blame you for that. You couldnt have known.
And I guess you couldnt have helped that you just went right on

ahead and dated Simon afterward like you didnt even care. I thought once Jace knew you were his sister, hed give up and get over it, but he didnt, and he couldnt. I dont know what Valentine did to him when he was a child. I dont know if thats why he is the way he is, or if its just the way hes made, but he wont get over you, Clary. He cant. I started to hate seeing you. I hated for Jace to see you. Its like an injury you get from demon poisonyou have to leave it alone and let it heal. Every

time you rip the bandages off, you just open the wound up again. Every time he sees you, its like tearing off the bandages.
I know, Clary whispered. How do you think it is for me?
I dont know. I cant tell what youre feeling. Youre not my sister. I dont hate you, Clary. I even like you. If it were possible, there isnt anyone Id rather Jace be with. But I hope you can understand when I say that if by some miracle we all get through this, I hope my family moves itself

somewhere so far away that we never see you again.
Tears stung the backs of Clarys eyes. It was strange, she and
Isabelle sitting here at this table, crying over Jace for reasons that were both very different and strangely the same. Why are you telling me all this now?
Because youre accusing me of not wanting to protect Jace. But I do want to protect him. Why do you think I was so upset when you suddenly showed up at the

Penhallows? You act as if youre not a part of all this, of our world; you stand on the sidelines, but you are a part of it. Youre central to it. You cant just pretend to be a bit player forever, Clary, not when youre
Valentines daughter. Not when Jace is doing what hes doing partly because of you.
Because of me?
Why do you think hes so willing to risk himself? Why do you think he doesnt care if he dies? Isabelles words drove into Clarys ears like

sharp needles. I know why, she thought. Its because he thinks hes a demon, thinks he isnt really human, thats whybut I cant tell you that, cant tell you the one thing that would make you understand.
Hes always thought there was something wrong with him, and now, because of you, he thinks hes cursed forever. I heard him say so to Alec. Why not risk your life, if you dont want to live anyway? Why not risk your life if youll never be happy no matter what you do?

Isabelle, thats enough. The door opened, almost silently, and Simon stood in the doorway. Clary had nearly forgotten how much better his hearing was now. Its not Clarys fault. Color rose in Isabelles face. Stay out of this, Simon. You dont know what s going on.
Simon stepped into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. I heard most of what youve been saying, he told them matter-offactly. Even through the wall. You

said you dont know what Clarys feeling because you havent known her long enough. Well, I have. If you think Jace is the only one whos suffered, you re wrong there.
There was a silence; the fierceness in Isabelles expression was fading slightly. In the distance, Clary thought she heard the sound of someone knocking on the front door:
Luke, probably, or Maia bringing more blood for Simon.
Its not because of me that he left,
Clary said, and her heart began to

p o und . Can I tell them Jaces secret, now that hes gone? Can I tell them the real reason he left, the real reason he doesnt care if he dies? Words started to pour out of her, almost against her will.
When Jace and I went to the
Wayland manorwhen we went to find the Book of the White
She broke off as the kitchen door swung open. Amatis stood there, the strangest expression on her face.
For a moment Clary thought she was frightened, and her heart skipped a

beat. But it wasnt fright on Amatiss face, not really. She looked as she had when Clary and Luke had suddenly showed up at her front door. She looked as if shed seen a ghost. Clary, she said slowly.
There s someone here to see you
Before she could finish, that someone pushed past her into the kitchen. Amatis stood back, and
Clary got her first good look at the intrudera slender woman, dressed in black. At first all Clary saw was the Shadowhunter gear and she

almost didnt recognize her, not until her eyes reached the womans face and she felt her stomach drop out of her body the way it had when Jace had driven their motorcycle off the edge of the Dumort roof, a ten-story fall. It was her mother.

Part Three

The Way to Heaven

Oh yes, I know the way to heaven was easy.

We found the little kingdom of our passion That all can share who walk the road of lovers.
In wild and secret happiness we stumbled; And gods and demons clamoured in our senses.

Siegfried Sassoon, The Imperfect
Lover

16

ARTICLES OF FAITH

Since the night shed come home to find her mother gone, Clary had imagined seeing her again, well and healthy, so often that her imaginings

had taken on the quality of a photograph that had become faded from being taken out and looked at too many times. Those images rose up before her now, even as she stared in disbeliefimages in which her mother, looking healthy and happy, hugged Clary and told her how much shed missed her but that everything was going to be all right now. The mother in her imaginings bore very little resemblance to the woman who stood in front of her

now. Shed remembered Jocelyn as gentle and artistic, a little bohemian with her paint-splattered overalls, her red hair in pigtails or fastened up with a pencil into a messy bun.
This Jocelyn was as bright and sharp as a knife, her hair drawn back sternly, not a wisp out of place; the harsh black of her gear made her face look pale and hard.
Nor was her expression the one
Clary had imagined: Instead of delight, there was something very like horror in the way she looked at

Clary, her green eyes wide. Clary, she breathed. Your clothes.
Clary looked down at herself. She had on Amatis s black Shadowhunter gear, exactly what her mother had spent her whole life making sure her daughter would never have to wear.
Clary swallowed hard and stood up, clutching the edge of the table with her hands. She could see how white her knuckles were, but her hands felt disconnected from her body somehow, as if they belonged to someone else.

Jocelyn stepped toward her, reaching her arms out. Clary
And Clary found herself backing up, so hastily that she hit the counter with the small of her back. Pain flared through her, but she hardly noticed; she was staring at her mother. So was Simon, his mouth slightly open; Amatis, too, looked stricken. Isabelle stood up, putting herself between Clary and her mother. Her hand slid beneath her apron, and
Clary had a feeling that when she

drew it out, shed be holding her slender electrum whip. Whats going on here? Isabelle demanded. Who are you?
Her strong voice wavered slightly as she seemed to catch the expression on Jocelyns face;
Jocelyn was staring at her, her hand over her heart.
Maryse. Jocelyns voice was barely a whisper.
Isabelle looked startled. How do you know my mother s name?
Color came into Jocelyns face in a

rush. Of course. Youre Maryses daughter. Its justyou look so much like her. She lowered her hand slowly. Im Jocelyn FrFairchild. Im
Clary s mother.
Isabelle took her hand out from under the apron and glanced at
Clary, her eyes full of confusion.
But you were in the hospitalin New
York
I was, Jocelyn said in a firmer voice. But thanks to my daughter, Im fine now. And Id like a moment with her.

Im not sure, said Amatis, that she wants a moment with you. She reached out to put her hand on
Jocelyns shoulder. This must be a shock for her
Jocelyn shook off Amatis and moved toward Clary, reaching her hands out. Clary
At last Clary found her voice. It was a cold, icy voice, so angry it surprised her. How did you get here, Jocelyn?
Her mother stopped dead, a look of uncertainty passing over her face. I

Portaled to just outside the city with
Magnus Bane. Yesterday he came to me in the hospitalhe brought the antidote. He told me everything you did for me. All Ive wanted since I woke up was to see you. Her voice trailed off. Clary, is something wrong? Why didnt you ever tell me I had a brother? Clary said. It wasnt what shed expected to say, wasnt even what shed planned to have come out of her mouth. But there it was.
Jocelyn dropped her hands. I

thought he was dead. I thought it would only hurt you to know.
Let me tell you something, Mom,
Clary said. Knowing is better than not knowing. Every time.
I m sorry , Jocelyn began.
Sorry? Clarys voice rose; it was as if something inside her had torn open, and everything was pouring out, all her bitterness, all her pentup rage. Do you want to explain why you never told me I was a
Shadowhunter? Or that my father was still alive? Oh, and how about

that bit where you paid Magnus to steal my memories?
I was trying to protect you
Well, you did a terrible job! Clarys voice rose. What did you expect to happen to me after you disappeared? If it hadnt been for
Jace and the others, Id be dead. You never showed me how to protect myself. You never told me how dangerous things really were. What did you think? That if I couldnt see the bad things, that meant they couldnt see me? Her eyes burned.

You knew Valentine wasnt dead.
You told Luke you thought he was still alive.
Thats why I had to hide you,
Jocelyn said. I couldnt risk letting
Valentine know where you were. I couldn t let him touch you
Because he turned your first child into a monster, said Clary, and you didnt want him to do the same to me. Shocked speechless, Jocelyn could only stare at her. Yes, she said finally. Yes, but thats not all it was,

Clary
You stole my memories, Clary said.
You took them away from me. You took away who I was.
Thats not who you are! Jocelyn cried. I never wanted it to be who you were
It doesnt matter what you wanted!
Clary shouted. It is who I am! You took all that away from me and it didn t belong to you!
Jocelyn was ashen. Tears rose up in
Clarys eyesshe couldnt bear seeing her mother like this, seeing her so

hurt, and yet she was the one doing the hurtingand she knew that if she opened her mouth again, more terrible words would come out, more hateful, angry things. She clapped her hand over her mouth and darted for the hallway, pushing past her mother, past Simons outstretched hand. All she wanted was to get away. Blindly pushing at the front door, she half-fell out into the street. Behind her, someone called her name, but she didnt turn around. She was already running.

Jace was somewhat surprised to discover that Sebastian had left the
Verlac horse in the stables rather than galloping away on it the night he fled. Perhaps he had been afraid that Wayfarer might in some manner be tracked.
It gave Jace a certain satisfaction to saddle the stallion up and ride him out of the city. True, if Sebastian had really wanted Wayfarer, he

wouldnt have left him behindand besides, the horse hadnt really been
Sebastians to begin with. But the fact was, Jace liked horses. Hed been ten the last time hed ridden one, but the memories, he was pleased to note, came back fast.
It had taken him and Clary six hours to walk from the Wayland manor to
Alicante. It took about two hours to get back, riding at a near gallop. By the time they drew up on the ridge overlooking the house and gardens, both he and the horse were covered

in a light sheen of sweat.
The misdirection wards that had hidden the manor had been destroyed along with the manors foundation. What was left of the once elegant building was a heap of smoldering stone. The gardens, singed at the edges now, still brought back memories of the time hed lived there as a child. There were the rosebushes, denuded of their blossoms now and threaded with green weeds; the stone benches that sat by empty pools; and the

hollow in the ground where hed lain with Clary the night the manor collapsed. He could see the blue glint of the nearby lake through the trees. A surge of bitterness caught him. He jammed his hand into his pocket and drew out first a stelehed borrowed it from Alecs room before hed left, as a replacement for the one Clary had lost, since Alec could always get anotherand then the thread hed taken from the sleeve of Clarys coat. It lay in his palm, stained red-

brown at one end. He closed his fist around it, tightly enough to make the bones jut out under his skin, and with his stele traced a rune on the back of his hand. The faint sting was more familiar than painful. He watched the rune sink into his skin like a stone sinking through water, and closed his eyes.
Instead of the backs of his eyelids he saw a valley. He was standing on a ridge looking down over it, and as if he were gazing at a map that pinpointed his location, he

knew exactly where he was. He remembered how the Inquisitor had known exactly where Valentines boat was in the middle of the East
River and realized, This is how she did it. Every detail was clearevery blade of grass, the scatter of browning leaves at his feetbut there was no sound. The scene was eerily silent. The valley was a horseshoe with one end narrower than the other. A bright silver rill of watera creek or streamran through the center of it

and disappeared among rocks at the narrow end. Beside the stream sat a gray stone house, white smoke puffing from the square chimney. It was an oddly pas toral scene, tranquil under the blue gaze of the sky. As he watched, a slender figure swung into view. Sebastian. Now that he was no longer bothering to pretend, his arrogance was plain in the way he walked, in the jut of his shoulders, the faint smirk on his face. Sebastian knelt down by the side of the stream and plunged his

hands in, splashing water up over his face and hair.
Jace opened his eyes. Beneath him
Wayfarer was contentedly cropping grass. Jace shoved the stele and thread back into his pocket, and with a single last glance at the ruins of the house hed grown up in, he gathered up the reins and dug his heels into the horse s sides.

Clary lay in the grass near the edge of Gard Hill and stared morosely down at Alicante. The view from here was pretty spectacular, she had to admit. She could look out over the rooftops of the city, with their elegant carvings and rune-Marked weather vanes, past the spires of the
Hall of Accords, out toward something that gleamed in the far distance like the edge of a silver coinLake Lyn? The black ruins of the Gard hulked behind her, and the demon towers shone like crystal.

Clary almost thought she could see the wards, shimmering like an invisible net woven around the borders of the city.
She looked down at her hands. She had torn up several fistfuls of grass in the last spasms of her anger, and her fingers were sticky with dirt and blood where shed ripped a nail half off. Once the fury had passed, a feeling of utter emptiness had replaced it. She hadnt realized how angry shed been with her mother, not until shed stepped through the

door and Clary had set her panic about Jocelyns life aside and realized what lay under it. Now that she was calmer, she wondered if a part of her had wanted to punish her mother for what had happened to
Jace. If he hadnt been lied toif they both hadnt beenthen perhaps the shock of finding out what Valentine had done to him when he was only a baby wouldnt have driven him to a gesture Clary couldnt help feeling was close to suicide.
Mind if I join you?

She jumped in surprise and rolled onto her side to look up. Simon stood over her, his hands in his pockets. SomeoneIsabelle, probablyhad given him a dark jacket of the tough black stuff
Shadowhunters used for their gear.
A vampire in gear, Clary thought, wondering if it was a first. You snuck up on me, she said. I guess Im not much of a Shadowhunter, huh.
Simon shrugged. Well, in your defense, I do move with a silent, pantherlike grace.

Despite herself, Clary smiled. She sat up, brushing dirt off her hands.
Go ahead and join me. This mopefest is open to all.
Sitting beside her, Simon looked out over the city and whistled. Nice view. It is. Clary looked at him sidelong.
How did you find me?
Well, it took me a few hours. He smiled, a little crookedly. Then I remembered how when we used to fight, back in first grade, youd go and sulk on my roof and my mom

would have to get you down?
So?
I know you, he said. When you get upset, you head for high ground.
He held something out to herher green coat, neatly folded. She took it and shrugged it onthe poor thing was already showing distinct signs of wear. There was even a small hole in the elbow big enough to wiggle a finger through.
Thanks, Simon. She laced her hands around her knees and stared out at the city. The sun was low in the sky,

and the towers had begun to glow a faint reddish pink. Did my mom send you up here to get me?
Simon shook his head. Luke, actually. And he just asked me to tell you that you might want to head back before sunset. Some pretty important stuff is happening.
What kind of stuff?
Luke gave the Clave until sunset to decide whether theyd agree to give the Downworlders seats on the
Council. The Downworlders are all coming to the North Gate at

twilight. If the Clave agrees, they can come into Alicante. If not
They get sent away, Clary finished.
And the Clave gives itself up to
Valentine.
Yeah.
Theyll agree, said Clary. They have to. She hugged her knees. Theyd never pick Valentine. No one would. Glad to see your idealism hasnt been damaged, said Simon, and though his voice was light, Clary heard another voice through it.

Jaces, saying he wasnt an idealist, and she shivered, despite the coat she was wearing.
Simon? she said. I have a stupid question. What is it?
Did you sleep with Isabelle?
Simon made a choking sound. Clary swiveled slowly around to look at him. Are you okay? she asked.
I think so, he said, recovering his poise with apparent effort. Are you serious? Well, you were gone all night.
Simon was silent for a long moment. Finally he said, Im not sure it s your business, but no.
Well, said Clary, after a judicious pause, I guess you wouldnt have taken advantage of her when shes so grief-stricken and all.
Simon snorted. If you ever meet the man who could take advantage of
Isabelle, youll have to let me know.
Id like to shake his hand. Or run away from him very fast, Im not sure which.

So you re not dating Isabelle.
Clary, Simon said, why are you asking me about Isabelle? Dont you want to talk about your mom? Or about Jace? Izzy told me that he left.
I know how you must be feeling.
No, Clary said. No, I dont think you do. Youre not the only person whos ever felt abandoned. There was an edge of impatience to Simon s voice.
I guess I just thoughtI mean, Ive never seen you so angry. And at your mom. I thought you missed her.

Of course I missed her! Clary said, realizing even as she said it how the scene in the kitchen must have looked. Especially to her mother.
She pushed the thought away. Its just that Ive been so focused on rescuing hersaving her from
Valentine, then figuring out a way to cure herthat I never even stopped to think about how angry I was that she lied to me all these years. That she kept all of this from me, kept the truth from me. Never let me know who I really was.

But thats not what you said when she walked into the room, said
Simon quietly. You said, Why didnt you ever tell me I had a brother?
I know. Clary yanked a blade of grass out of the dirt, worrying it between her fingers. I guess I cant help thinking that if Id known the truth, I wouldnt have met Jace the way I did. I wouldnt have fallen in love with him.
Simon was silent for a moment. I dont think Ive ever heard you say that before.

That I love him? She laughed, but it sounded dreary even to her ears.
Seems useless to pretend like I dont, at this point. Maybe it doesnt matter. I probably wont ever see him again, anyway.
He ll come back.
Maybe.
Hell come back, Simon said again.
For you.
I dont know. Clary shook her head.
It was getting colder as the sun dipped to touch the edge of the horizon. She narrowed her eyes,

leaning forward, staring. Simon.
Look.
He followed her gaze. Beyond the wards, at the North Gate of the city, hundreds of dark figures were gathering, some huddled together, some standing apart: the
Downworlders Luke had called to the citys aid, waiting patiently for word from the Clave to let them in.
A shiver sizzled down Clary s spine.
She was poised not just on the crest of this hill, looking down over a steep drop to the city below, but at

the edge of a crisis, an event that would change the workings of the whole Shadowhunting world.
Theyre here, Simon said, half to himself. I wonder if that means the
Clave s decided?
I hope so. The grass blade Clary had been worrying at was a mangled green mess; she tossed it aside and yanked up another one. I dont know what Ill do if they decide to give in to Valentine. Maybe I can create a Portal thatll take us all away to somewhere Valentine will

never find us. A deserted island, or something. Okay, I have a stupid question myself, Simon said. You can create new runes, right? Why cant you just create one to destroy every demon in the world? Or kill Valentine?
It doesnt work like that, Clary said.
I can only create runes I can visualize. The whole image has to come into my head, like a picture.
When I try to visualize kill
Valentine or rule the world or something, I dont get any images.

Just white noise.
But where do the images of the runes come from, do you think?
I dont know, Clary said. All the runes the Shadowhunters know come from the Gray Book. Thats why they can only be put on
Nephilim; thats what theyre for. But there are other, older runes. Magnus told me that. Like the Mark of Cain.
It was a protection Mark, but not one from the Gray Book. So when I think of these runes, like the
Fearless rune, I dont know if its

something
Im inventing, or something
Im remembering runes older than Shadowhunters. Runes as old as angels themselves. She thought of the rune Ithuriel had showed her, the one as simple as a knot. Had it come from her own mind, or the angels? Or was it just something that had always existed, like the sea or the sky? The thought made her shiver.
Are you cold? Simon asked.
Yes aren t you?
I dont get cold anymore. He put an

arm around her, his hand rubbing her back in slow circles. He chuckled ruefully. I guess this probably doesnt help much, what with me having no body heat and all. No, Clary said. I meanyes, it does help. Stay like that. She glanced up at him. He was staring down at the
North Gate, around which the dark figures of Downworlders still crowded, almost motionless. The red light of the demon towers reflected in his eyes; he looked like

someone in a photograph taken with a flash. She could see faint blue veins spidering just under the surface of his skin where it was thinnest: at his temples, at the base of his collarbone. She knew enough about vampires to know that this meant it had been a while since hed fed. Are you hungry?
Now he did glance down at her.
Afraid I m going to bite you?
You know youre welcome to my blood whenever you want it.
A shiver, not from cold, passed

over him, and he pulled her more tightly against his side. Id never do that, he said. And then, more lightly,
Besides, Ive already drunk Jaces bloodIve had enough of feeding off my friends.
Clary thought of the silver scar on the side of Jaces throat. Slowly, her mind still full of the image of Jace, she said, Do you think that s why ?
Why what?
Why sunlight doesnt hurt you. I mean, it did hurt you before that, didnt it? Before that night on the

boat?
He nodded reluctantly.
So what else changed? Or is it just that you drank his blood?
You mean because hes Nephilim?
No. No, its something else. You and
Jaceyoure not quite normal, are you? I mean, not normal
Shadowhunters. Threres something special about you both. Like the
Seelie Queen said. You were experiments. He smiled at her startled look. Im not stupid. I can put these things together. You with

your rune powers, and Jace, wellno one could be that annoying without some kind of supernatural assistance. Do you really dislike him that much? I dont dislike Jace, Simon protested. I mean, I hated him at first, sure. He seemed so arrogant and sure of himself, and you acted like he hung the moon
I did not.
Let me finish, Clary. There was a breathless undercurrent in Simons

voice, if someone who never breathed could be said to be breathless. He sounded as if he were racing toward something. I could tell how much you liked him, and I thought he was using you, that you were just some stupid mundane girl he could impress with his
Shadowhunter tricks. First I told myself that youd never fall for it, and then that even if you did, hed get tired of you eventually and youd come back to me. Im not proud of that, but when youre desperate,

youll believe anything, I guess. And then when he turned out to be your brother, it seemed like a last-minute reprieveand I was glad. I was even glad to see how much he seemed to be suffering, until that night in the
Seelie Court when you kissed him. I could see
See what? Clary said, unable to bear the pause.
The way he looked at you. I got it then. He was never using you. He loved you, and it was killing him.
Is that why you went to the Dumort?

Clary whispered. It was something shed always wanted to know but had never been able to bring herself to ask.
Because of you and Jace? Not in any real way, no. Ever since that night in the hotel, Id been wanting to go back. I dreamed about it. And Id wake up out of bed, getting dressed, or already on the street, and I knew
I wanted to go back to the hotel. It was always worse at night, and worse the closer I got to the hotel. It didnt even occur to me that it was

something supernaturalI thought it was posttraumatic stress or something. That night, I was so exhausted and angry, and we were so close to the hotel, and it was nightI barely even remember what happened. I just remember walking away from the park, and then nothing. But if you hadnt been angry at meif we hadn t upset you
Its not like you had a choice, Simon said. And its not like I didnt know.
You can only push the truth down

for so long, and then it bubbles back up. The mistake I made was not telling you what was going on with me, not telling you about the dreams. But I don t regret dating you.
Im glad we tried. And I love you for trying, even if it was never going to work. I wanted it to work so much, Clary said softly. I never wanted to hurt you. I wouldnt change it, Simon said. I wouldnt give up loving you. Not for anything. You know what Raphael

told me? That I didnt know how to be a good vampire, that vampires accept that theyre dead. But as long as I remember what it was like to love you, Ill always feel like Im alive. Simon
Look. He cut her off with a gesture, his dark eyes widening. Down there. The sun was a red sliver on the horizon; as she looked, it flickered and vanished, disappearing past the dark rim of the world. The demon

towers of Alicante blazed into sudden incandescent life. In their light Clary could see the dark crowd swarming restlessly around the North Gate. What s going on? she whispered. The suns set; why arent the gates opening?
Simon was motionless. The Clave, he said. They must have said no to
Luke.
But they cant have! Clarys voice rose sharply. That would mean
Theyre going to give themselves up to Valentine.

They can t! Clary cried again, but even as she stared, she saw the groups of dark figures surrounding the wards turn and move away from the city, streaming like ants out of a destroyed anthill.
Simons face was waxy in the fading light. I guess, he said, they really hate us that much. Theyd really rather choose Valentine.
Its not hate, Clary said. Its that theyre afraid. Even Valentine was afraid. She said it without thinking, and realized as she said it that it

was true. Afraid and jealous.
Simon flicked a glance toward her in surprise. Jealous?
But Clary was back in the dream
Ithuriel had showed her, Valentines voice echoing in her ears. I wanted to ask him why. Why he created us, his race of Shadowhunters, yet did not give us the powers Downworlders havethe speed of the wolves, the immortality of the
Fair Folk, the magic of warlocks, even the endurance of vampires.
He left us naked before the hosts of

hell but for these painted lines on our skin. Why should their powers be greater than ours? Why cant we share in what they have?
Her lips parted and she stared unseeing down at the city below.
She was vaguely aware that Simon was saying her name, but her mind was racing. The angel could have showed her anything, she thought, but hed chosen to show her these scenes, these memories, for a reason. She thought of Valentine crying, That we should be bound to

Downworlders, tied to those creatures! And the rune. The one she had dreamed of. The rune as simple as a knot. Why cant we share in what they have? Binding, she said out loud. Its a binding rune. It joins like and unlike. What? Simon stared up at her in confusion. She scrambled to her feet, brushing off the dirt. I have to get down

there. Where are they?
Where are who? Clary
The Clave. Where are they meeting?
Where s Luke?
Simon rose to his feet. The Accords
Hall. Clary
But she was already racing toward the winding path that led to the city.
Swearing under his breath, Simon followed. They say all roads lead to the Hall.
Sebastians words pounded over and over in Clarys head and she sprinted down the narrow streets of
Alicante. She hoped it was true, because otherwise she was definitely going to get lost. The streets twisted at odd angles, not like the lovely, straight, gridded streets of Manhattan. In Manhattan you always knew where you were.
Everything was clearly numbered and laid out. This was a labyrinth.
She darted through a tiny courtyard

and down one of the narrow canal paths, knowing that if she followed the water, shed eventually come out in Angel Square. Somewhat to her surprise, the path took her by
Amatiss house, and then she was racing, panting, down a wider, curving, familiar street. It opened out onto the square, the Accords
Hall rising up wide and white before her, the angel statue shining at the squares center. Standing beside the statue was Simon, his arms crossed, regarding her darkly.

You could have waited, he said.
She leaned forward, her hands on her knees, catching her breath.
Youcant really say thatsince you got here before me anyway.
Vampire speed, Simon said with some satisfaction. When we get home, I ought to go out for track.
That would becheating. With a last deep breath Clary straightened up and pushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes. Come on. We re going in.
The
Hall was full of Shadowhunters, more Shadowhunters than Clary had ever seen in one place before, even on the night of Valentines attack. Their voices rose in a roar like a crashing avalanche; most of them had gathered into contentious, shouting groupsthe dais was deserted, the map of Idris hanging forlornly behind it.
She looked around for Luke. It took her a moment to find him, leaning against a pillar with his eyes halfclosed. He looked awfulhalf-dead, his shoulders slumped. Amatis

stood behind him, patting his shoulder worriedly. Clary looked around, but Jocelyn was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.
For just a moment she hesitated.
Then she thought of Jace, going after
Valentine, doing it alone, knowing that he might well get himself killed. He knew he was a part of this, a part of all of it, and she was tooshe always had been, even when she hadnt known it. Adrenaline was still coursing through her in spikes, sharpening her perception, making

everything seem clear. Almost too clear. She squeezed Simons hand.
Wish me luck, she said, and then her feet were carrying her toward the dais steps, almost without her volition, and then she was standing on the dais and turning to face the crowd. She wasnt sure what shed expected.
Gasps of surprise? A sea of hushed, expectant faces? They barely noticed heronly Luke looked up, as if he sensed her there, and froze with a look of astonishment on his

face. And there was someone coming toward her through the crowda tall man with bones as prominent as the prow of a sailing ship. Consul Malachi. He was gesturing at her to get down from the dais, shaking his head and shouting something she couldnt hear. More Shadowhunters were turning toward her now as he made his way through the throng.
Clary had what she wanted now, all eyes riveted on her. She heard the whispers running through the

c r o w d : Thats her. Valentines daughter. Youre right, she said, casting her voice as far and as loudly as she could, I am Valentines daughter. I never even knew he was my father until a few weeks ago. I never even knew he existed until a few weeks ago. I know a lot of you are going to believe thats not true, and thats fine.
Believe what you want. Just as long as you also believe I know things about Valentine you dont know, things that could help you win this

battle against himif only you let me tell you what they are.
Ridiculous. Malachi stood at the foot of the dais steps. This is ridiculous. You re just a little girl
Shes Jocelyn Fairchilds daughter. It was Patrick Penhallow. Having pushed his way to the front of the crowd, he held up a hand. Let the girl say her piece, Malachi.
The crowd was buzzing. You, Clary said to the Consul. You and the
Inquisitor threw my friend Simon into prison

Malachi sneered. Your friend the vampire? He told me you asked him what happened to Valentines ship that night on the East River. You thought
Valentine
must have done something, some kind of black magic. Well, he didnt. If you want to know what destroyed that ship, the answer is me. I did it.
Malachis disbelieving laugh was echoed by several others in the crowd. Luke was looking at her, shaking his head, but Clary plowed

on.
I did it with a rune, she said. It was a rune so strong it made the ship come apart in pieces. I can create new runes. Not just the ones in the
Gray Book. Runes no ones ever seen before powerful ones
Thats enough, Malachi roared. This is ridiculous. No one can create new runes. Its a complete impossibility. He turned to the crowd. Like her father, this girl is nothing but a liar.
Shes not lying. The voice came

from the back of the crowd. It was clear, strong, and purposeful. The crowd turned, and Clary saw who had spoken: It was Alec. He stood with Isabelle on one side of him and
Magnus on the other. Simon was with them, and so was Maryse
Lightwood. They formed a small, determined-looking knot by the front doors. Ive seen her create a rune.
She even used it on me. It worked.
Youre lying, the Consul said, but doubt had crept into his eyes. To protect your friend

Really, Malachi, Maryse said crisply. Why would my son lie about something like this, when the truth can so easily be discovered?
Give the girl a stele and let her create a rune.
A murmur of assent ran around the
Hall. Patrick Penhallow stepped forward and held a stele up to
Clary. She took it gratefully and turned back to the crowd.
Her mouth went dry. Her adrenaline was still up, but it wasnt enough to completely drown her stage fright.

What was she supposed to do?
What kind of rune could she create that would convince this crowd she was telling the truth? What would show them the truth?
She looked out then, through the crowd, and saw Simon with the
Lightwoods, looking at her across the empty space that separated them.
It was the same way that Jace had looked at her at the manor. It was the one thread that bound these two boys that she loved so much, she thought, their one commonality:

They both believed in her even when she didn t believe in herself.
Looking at Simon, and thinking of
Jace, she brought the stele down and drew its stinging point against the inside of her wrist, where her pulse beat. She didnt look down as she was doing it but drew blindly, trusting herself and the stele to create the rune she needed. She drew it faintly, lightlyshe would need it only for a momentbut without a seconds hesitation. And when she was done, she raised her

head and opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw was
Malachi. His face had gone white, and he was backing away from her with a look of horror. He said somethinga word in a language she didnt recognizeand then behind him she saw Luke, staring at her, his mouth slightly open. Jocelyn? Luke said. She shook her head at him, just slightly, and looked out at the crowd. It was a blur of faces, fading in and out as she stared. Some were

smiling, some glancing around the crowd in surprise, some turning to the person who stood next to them.
A few wore expressions of horror or amazement, hands clamped over their mouths. She saw Alec glance quickly at Magnus, and then at her, in disbelief, and Simon looking on in puzzlement, and then Amatis came forward, shoving her way past
Patrick Penhallows bulk, and ran up to the edge of the dais. Stephen! she said, looking up at Clary with a sort of dazzled amazement. Stephen!

Oh, Clary said. Oh, Amatis, no, and then she felt the rune magic slip from her, as if shed shed a thin, invisible garment. Amatiss eager face dropped, and she backed away from the dais, her expression halfcrestfallen and half-amazed.
Clary looked out across the crowd.
They were utterly silent, every face turned to her. I know what you all just saw, she said. And I know that you know that that kind of magic is beyond any glamour or illusion.
And I did that with one rune, a

single rune, a rune that I created.
There are reasons why I have this ability, and I know you might not like them or even believe them, but it doesn t matter. What matters is that
I can help you win this battle against Valentine, if you ll let me.
There will be no battle against
Valentine, Malachi said. He didnt meet her eyes as he spoke. The
Clave has decided. We will agree to Valentines terms and lay down our arms tomorrow morning.
You cant do that, she said, a tinge of

desperation entering her voice. You think everything will be all right if you just give up? You think
Valentine will let you keep on living like you have already? You think hell confine his killing to demons and Downworlders? She swept her gaze across the room.
Most of you havent seen Valentine in fifteen years. Maybe youve forgotten what hes really like. But I know. Ive heard him talk about his plans. You think you can still live your lives under Valentine s rule, but

you wont be able to. Hell control you completely, because hell always be able to threaten to destroy you with the Mortal
Instruments. Hell start with
Downworlders, of course. But then hell go to the Clave. Hell kill them first because he thinks theyre weak and corrupt. Then hell start in on anyone who has a Downworlder anywhere in their family. Maybe a werewolf brotherher eyes swept over Amatisor a rebellious teenage daughter who dates the occasional

faerie knighther eyes went to the
Lightwoodsor anyone whos ever so much as befriended a
Downworlder. And then hell go after anyone whos ever employed the services of a warlock. How many of you would that be?
This is nonsense, Malachi said crisply. Valentine is not interested in destroying Nephilim.
But he doesnt think anyone who associates with Downworlders is worthy of being called Nephilim,
Clary insisted. Look, your war isnt

against Valentine. Its against demons. Keeping demons from this world is your mandate, a mandate from heaven. And a mandate from heaven isnt something you can just ignore. Downworlders hate demons too. They destroy them too. If
Valentine has his way, he ll spend so much of his time trying to murder every Downworlder, and every
Shadowhunter
whos ever associated with them, that hell forget all about the demons, and so will you, because youll be so busy

being afraid of Valentine. And theyll overrun the world, and that will be that.
I see where this is going, Malachi said through gritted teeth. We will not fight beside Downworlders in the service of a battle we cant possibly win
But you can win it, Clary said. You can. Her throat was dry, her head aching, and the faces in the crowd before her seemed to meld into a featureless blur, punctuated here and there by soft white explosions

of light. But you cant stop now. You have to keep going. You have to try. My father hates Downworlders because hes jealous of them, she went on, her words tripping over one another. Jealous and afraid of all the things they can do that he cant. He hates that in some ways theyre more powerful than
Nephilim, and Id bet hes not alone in that. Its easy to be afraid of what you dont share. She took a breath.
But what if you could share it?
What if I could make a rune that

could bind each of you, each
Shadowhunter, to a Downworlder who was fighting by your side, and you could share your powers you could be as fast-healing as a vampire, as tough as a werewolf, or as swift as a faerie knight. And they, in turn, could share your training, your fighting skills. You could be an unbeatable forceif youll let me
Mark you, and if youll fight with the
Downworlders. Because if you dont fight beside them, the runes wont work. She paused. Please, she said,

but the word came almost inaudibly out of her dry throat. Please let me
Mark you.
Her words fell into a ringing silence. The world moved in a shifting blur, and she realized that shed delivered the last half of her speech staring up at the ceiling of the Hall and that the soft white explosions shed seen had been the stars coming out in the night sky, one by one. The silence went on and on as her hands, at her sides, curled themselves slowly into fists. And

then slowly, very slowly, she lowered her gaze and met the eyes of the crowd staring back at her.

17

THE SHADOWHUNTER S
TALE

Clary sat on the top step of the
Accords Hall, looking out over
Angel Square. The moon had come

up earlier and was just visible over the roofs of the houses. The demon towers reflected back its light, silver-white. The darkness hid the scars and bruises of the city well; it looked peaceful under the night skyif one didnt look up at Gard Hill and the ruined outline of the citadel.
Guards patrolled the square below, appearing and disappearing as they moved in and out of the illumination of the witchlight lamps. They studiously ignored Clarys presence.
A few steps below her Simon was

pacing back and forth, his footsteps utterly soundless. He had his hands in his pockets, and when he turned at the end of the stairs to walk back toward her, the moonlight glossed off his pale skin as if it were a reflective surface.
Quit pacing, she told him. Youre just making me more nervous.
Sorry.
I feel like weve been out here forever. Clary strained her ears, but she couldnt hear more than the dull murmur of many voices coming

through the closed double doors of the Hall. Can you hear what theyre saying inside?
Simon half-closed his eyes; he appeared to be concentrating hard.
A little, he said after a pause.
I wish I were in there, Clary said, kicking her heels irritably against the steps. Luke had asked her to wait outside the doors while the
Clave deliberated; hed wanted to send Amatis out with her, but Simon had insisted on coming instead, saying it would be better to have

Amatis inside, supporting Clary. I wish I were part of the meeting.
No, Simon said. You don t.
She knew why Luke had asked her to wait outside. She could imagine what they were saying about her in there. Liar. Freak. Fool. Crazy.
Stupid.
Monster.
Valentines
daughter. Perhaps she was better off outside the Hall, but the tension of anticipating the Claves decision was almost painful.
Maybe I can climb one of those,
Simon said, eyeing the fat white

pillars that held up the slanted roof of the Hall. Runes were carved on them in overlapping patterns, but otherwise there were no visible handholds. Work off steam that way. Oh, come on, Clary said. Youre a vampire, not Spider-Man.
Simons only response was to jog lightly up the steps to the base of a pillar. He eyed it thoughtfully for a moment before putting his hands to it and starting to climb. Clary watched him, openmouthed, as his

fingertips and feet found impossible holds on the ridged stone. You are
Spider-Man! she exclaimed.
Simon glanced down from his perch halfway up the pillar. That makes you Mary Jane. She has red hair, he said. He glanced out across the city, frowning. I was hoping I could see the North Gate from here, but Im not high enough.
Clary knew why he wanted to see the gate. Messengers had been dispatched there to ask the
Downworlders to wait while the

Clave deliberated, and Clary could only hope they were willing to do it. And if they were, what was it like out there? Clary pictured the crowd waiting, milling, wondering .
The double doors of the Hall cracked open. A slim figure slipped through the gap, closed the door, and turned to face Clary. She was in shadow, and it was only when she moved forward, closer to the witchlight that illuminated the steps, that Clary saw the bright blaze of her red hair and recognized her

mother.
Jocelyn looked up, her expression bemused. Well, hello, Simon. Glad to see you re adjusting.
Simon let go of the pillar and dropped, landing lightly at its base.
He looked mildly abashed. Hey,
Mrs. Fray.
I dont know if theres any point in calling me that now, said Clarys mother. Maybe you should just call me Jocelyn. She hesitated. You know, strange as thissituationis, its good to see you here with Clary. I

cant remember the last time you two were apart.
Simon looked acutely embarrassed.
It s good to see you, too.
Thank you, Simon. Jocelyn glanced at her daughter. Now, Clary, would it be all right for us to talk for a moment? Alone?
Clary sat motionless for a long moment, staring at her mother. It was hard not to feel like she was staring at a stranger. Her throat felt tight, almost too tight to speak. She glanced toward Simon, who was

clearly waiting for a signal from her to tell him whether to stay or go.
She sighed. Okay.
Simon gave Clary an encouraging thumbs-up before vanishing back into the Hall. Clary turned away and stared fixedly down into the square, watching the guards do their rounds, as Jocelyn came and sat down next to her. Part of Clary wanted to lean sideways and put her head on her mothers shoulder. She could even close her eyes, pretend everything was all right. The other part of her

knew that it wouldnt make a difference; she couldnt keep her eyes closed forever.
Clary, Jocelyn said at last, very softly. I am so sorry.
Clary stared down at her hands. She was, she realized, still holding
Patrick Penhallows stele. She hoped he didnt think shed meant to steal it.
I never thought Id see this place again, Jocelyn went on. Clary stole a sideways glance at her mother and saw that she was looking out over

the city, at the demon towers casting their pale whitish light over the skyline. I dreamed about it sometimes. I even wanted to paint it, to paint my memories of it, but I couldnt do that. I thought if you ever saw the paintings, you might ask questions, might wonder how those images had ever come into my head.
I was so frightened youd find out where I was really from. Who I really was.
And now I have.
And now you have. Jocelyn

sounded wistful. And you have every reason to hate me.
I dont hate you, Mom, Clary said. I just Dont trust me, said Jocelyn. I cant blame you. I should have told you the truth. She touched Clarys shoulder lightly and seemed encouraged when Clary didnt move away. I can tell you I did it to protect you, but I know how that must sound. I was there, just now, in the Hall, watching you
You were there? Clary was startled.

I didn t see you.
I was in the very back of the Hall.
Luke had told me not to come to the meeting, that my presence would just upset everyone and throw everything off, and he was probably right, but I so badly wanted to be there. I slipped in after the meeting started and hid in the shadows. But I was there. And I just wanted to tell you That I made a fool out of myself?
Clary said bitterly. I already know that. No. I wanted to tell you that I was proud of you.
Clary slewed around to look at her mother. You were?
Jocelyn nodded. Of course I was.
The way you stood up in front of the
Clave like that. The way you showed them what you could do.
You made them look at you and see the person they loved most in the world, didn t you?
Yeah, Clary said. How did you know? Because I heard them all calling out

different names, Jocelyn said softly.
But I still saw you.
Oh. Clary looked down at her feet.
Well, Im still not sure they believe me about the runes. I mean, I hope so, but
Can I see it? Jocelyn asked.
See what?
The rune. The one that you created to bind Shadowhunters and
Downworlders. She hesitated. If you can t show me
No, its all right. With the stele
Clary traced the lines of the rune the

angel had showed her across the marble of the Accords Hall step, and they blazed up in hot gold lines as she drew. It was a strong rune, a map of curving lines overlapping a matrix of straight ones. Simple and complex at the same time. Clary knew now why it had seemed somehow unfinished to her when she had visualized it before: It needed a matching rune to make it work. A twin. A partner. Alliance, she said, drawing the stele back.
That s what I m calling it.

Jocelyn watched silently as the rune flared and faded, leaving faint black lines on the stone. When I was a young woman, she said finally, I fought so hard to bind Downworlders and Shadowhunters together, to protect the Accords. I thought I was chasing a sort of dreamsomething most
Shadowhunters
could hardly imagine. And now youve made it concrete and literal and real. She blinked hard. I realized something, watching you there in the Hall. You

know, all these years Ive tried to protect you by hiding you away. Its why I hated you going to
Pandemonium. I knew it was a place where Downworlders and mundanes mingledand that that meant there would be
Shadowhunters there. I imagined it was something in your blood that drew you to the place, something that recognized the shadow world even without your Sight. I thought you would be safe if only I could keep that world hidden from you. I

never thought about trying to protect you by helping you to be strong and to fight. She sounded sad. But somehow you got to be strong anyway. Strong enough for me to tell you the truth, if you still want to hear it.
I dont know. Clary thought of the images the angel had showed her, how terrible they had been. I know I was angry with you for lying. But
Im not sure I want to find out any more horrible things.
I talked to Luke. He thought you

should know what I have to tell you.
The whole story. All of it. Things
Ive never told anyone, never told him, even. I cant promise you that the whole truth is pleasant. But it is the truth.
The Law is hard, but it is the Law.
She owed it to Jace to find out the truth as much as she owed it to herself. Clary tightened her grip on the stele in her hand, her knuckles whitening. I want to know everything. Everything Jocelyn took a deep

breath. I dont even know where to start. How about starting with how you could marry Valentine? How you could have married a man like that, made him my father he s a monster.
No. He s a man. He s not a good man.
But if you want to know why I married him, it was because I loved him. You cant have, Clary said. Nobody could. I was your age when I fell in love with him, Jocelyn said. I thought he was perfectbrilliant, clever, wonderful, funny, charming. I know, you re looking at me as if I ve lost my mind. You only know Valentine the way he is now. You cant imagine what he was like then. When we were at school together, everyone loved him. He seemed to give off light, in a way, like there was some special and brilliantly illuminated part of the universe that only he had access to, and if we were lucky, he

might share it with us, even just a little. Every girl loved him, and I thought I didnt have a chance. There was nothing special about me. I wasnt even that popular; Luke was one of my closest friends, and I spent most of my time with him. But still, somehow, Valentine chose me.
Gross, Clary wanted to say. But she held back. Maybe it was the wistfulness in her mothers voice, mixed with regret. Maybe it was what she had said about Valentine giving off light. Clary had thought

the same thing about Jace before, and then felt stupid for thinking it.
But maybe everyone in love felt that way. Okay, she said, I get it. But you were sixteen then. That doesnt mean you had to marry him later.
I was eighteen when we got married. He was nineteen, Jocelyn said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Oh my God, Clary said in horror.
Youd kill me if I wanted to get married when I was eighteen.
I would, Jocelyn agreed. But

Shadowhunters tend to get married earlier than mundanes. Theirour life spans are shorter; a lot of us die violent deaths. We tend to do everything earlier because of it.
Even so, I was young to get married. Still, my family was happy for meeven Luke was happy for me.
Everyone thought Valentine was a wonderful boy. And he was, you know, just a boy then. The only person who ever told me I shouldnt marry him was Madeleine. Wed been friends in school, but when I

told her I was engaged, she said that
Valentine was selfish and hateful, that his charm masked a terrible amorality. I told myself she was jealous. Was she?
No, said Jocelyn, she was telling the truth. I just didnt want to hear it.
She glanced down at her hands.
But you were sorry, Clary said.
After you married him, you were sorry you did it, right?
Clary, Jocelyn said. She sounded tired. We were happy. At least for

the first few years. We went to live in my parents manor house, where I grew up; Valentine didnt want to be in the city, and he wanted the rest of the Circle to avoid Alicante and the prying eyes of the Clave as well.
The Waylands lived in the manor just a mile or two from ours, and there were others close bythe
Lightwoods, the Penhallows. It was like being at the center of the world, with all this activity swirling around us, all this passion, and through it all I was by Valentines

side. He never made me feel dismissed or inconsequential. No, I was a key part of the Circle. I was one of the few whose opinions he trusted. He told me over and over that without me, he couldnt do any of it. Without me, he d be nothing.
H e did? Clary couldnt imagine
Valentine saying anything like that, anything that made him sound vulnerable. He did, but it wasnt true. Valentine could never have been nothing. He was born to be a leader, to be the

center of a revolution. More and more converts came to him. They were drawn by his passion and the brilliance of his ideas. He rarely even spoke of Downworlders in those early days. It was all about reforming the Clave, changing laws that were ancient and rigid and wrong. Valentine said there should be more Shadowhunters, more to fight the demons, more Institutes, that we should worry less about hiding and more about protecting the world from demonkind. That we

should walk tall and proud in the world. It was seductive, his vision: a world full of Shadowhunters, where demons ran scared and mundanes, instead of believing we didnt exist, thanked us for what we did for them. We were young; we thought thanks were important. We didnt know. Jocelyn took a deep breath, as if she were about to dive underwater. Then I got pregnant.
Clary felt a cold prickle at the back of her neck and suddenlyshe couldnt have said whyshe was no longer

sure she wanted the truth from her mother, no longer sure she wanted to hear, again, how Valentine had made Jace into a monster. Mom
Jocelyn shook her head blindly.
You asked me why I never told you that you had a brother. This is why.
She took a ragged breath. I was so happy when I found out. And
Valentinehed always wanted to be a father, he said. To train his son to be a warrior the way his father had trained him. Or your daughter, Id say, and hed smile and say a

daughter could be a warrior just as well as a boy, and he would be happy with either. I thought everything was perfect.
And then Luke was bitten by a werewolf. Theyll tell you theres a one in two chance that a bite will pass on lycanthropy. I think its more like three in four. Ive rarely seen anyone escape the disease, and
Luke was no exception. At the next full moon he Changed. He was there on our doorstep in the morning, covered in blood, his clothes torn to

rags. I wanted to comfort him, but
Valentine shoved me aside. Jocelyn, he said, the baby. As if Luke were about to run at me and tear the baby out of my stomach. It was Luke, but
Valentine pushed me away and dragged Luke down the steps and into the woods. When he came back much later, he was alone. I ran to him, but he told me that Luke had killed himself in despair over his lycanthropy. That he was dead.
The grief in Jocelyns voice was raw and ragged, Clary thought, even

now, when she knew Luke hadnt died. But Clary remembered her own despair when shed held Simon as hed died on the steps of the
Institute. There were some feelings you never forgot.
But he gave Luke a knife, Clary said in a small voice. He told him to kill himself. He made Amatiss husband divorce her, just because her brother had become a werewolf.
I didnt know, Jocelyn said. After
Luke died, it was like I fell into a black pit. I spent months in my

bedroom, sleeping all the time, eating only because of the baby.
Mundanes would call what I had depression, but Shadowhunters dont have those kinds of terms. Valentine believed I was having a difficult pregnancy. He told everyone I was ill. I was illI couldnt sleep. I kept thinking I heard strange noises, cries in the night. Valentine gave me sleeping drafts, but those just gave me nightmares. Terrible dreams that
Valentine was holding me down, was forcing a knife into me, or that I

was choking on poison. In the morning Id be exhausted, and Id sleep all day. I had no idea what was going on outside, no idea that hed forced Stephen to divorce
Amatis and marry Céline. I was in a daze. And then Jocelyn knotted her hands together in her lap. They were shaking. And then I had the baby. She fell silent, for so long that Clary wondered if she was going to speak again. Jocelyn was staring sightlessly toward the demon

towers, her fingers beating a nervous tattoo against her knees. At last she said, My mother was with me when the baby was born. You never knew her. Your grandmother.
She was such a kind woman. You would have liked her, I think. She handed me my son, and at first I knew only that he fit perfectly into my arms, that the blanket wrapping him was soft, and that he was so small and delicate, with just a wisp of fair hair on the top of his head.
And then he opened his eyes.

Jocelyns voice was flat, almost toneless, yet Clary found herself shivering, dreading what her mother might say next. Don t, she wanted to say. Dont tell me. But Jocelyn went on, the words pouring out of her like cold poison.
Horror washed over me. It was like being bathed in acidmy skin seemed to burn off my bones, and it was all
I could do not to drop the baby and begin screaming. They say every mother knows her own child instinctively. I suppose the opposite

is true as well. Every nerve in my body was crying out that this was not my baby, that it was something horrible and unnatural, as inhuman as a parasite. How could my mother not see it? But she was smiling at me as if nothing were wrong.
His name is Jonathan, said a voice from the doorway. I looked up and saw Valentine regarding the scene before him with a look of pleasure.
The baby opened his eyes again, as if recognizing the sound of his name. His eyes were black, black

as night, fathomless as tunnels dug into his skull. There was nothing human in them at all.
There was a long silence. Clary sat frozen, staring at her mother in openmouthed horror. Thats Jace shes talking about, she thought.
Jace when he was a baby. How could you feel like that about a baby? Mom, she whispered. Maybemaybe you were in shock or something. Or maybe you were sick
Thats what Valentine told me,

Jocelyn said emotionlessly. That I was sick. Valentine adored
Jonathan. He couldnt understand what was wrong with me. And I knew he was right. I was a monster, a mother who couldnt stand her own child. I thought about killing myself.
I might have done it tooand then I got a message, delivered by fireletter, from Ragnor Fell. He was a warlock who had always been close to my family; he was the one we called on when we needed a healing spell, that sort of thing. Hed

found out that Luke had become the leader of a pack of werewolves in the Brocelind Forest, by the eastern border. I burned the note once I got it. I knew Valentine could never know. But it wasnt until I went to the werewolf encampment and saw
Luke that I knew for certain that
Valentine had lied to me, lied to me about Lukes suicide. It was then that
I started to truly hate him.
But Luke said you knew there was something wrong with Valentinethat you knew he was doing something

terrible. He said you knew it even before he was Changed.
For a moment Jocelyn didnt reply.
You know, Luke should never have been bitten. It shouldnt have happened. It was a routine patrol of the woods, he was out with
Valentineit shouldnt have happened.
Mom
Luke says I told him I was afraid of
Valentine even before he was
Changed. He says I told him I could hear screams through the walls of the manor, that I suspected

something, dreaded something. And
Luketrusting Lukeasked Valentine about it the very next day. That night
Valentine took Luke hunting, and he was bitten. I thinkI think Valentine made me forget what Id seen, whatever had made me afraid. He made me believe it was all bad dreams. And I think he made sure
Luke got bitten that night. I think he wanted Luke out of the way so no one could remind me that I was afraid of my husband. But I didnt realize that, not right away. Luke

and I saw each other so briefly that first day, and I wanted so badly to tell him about Jonathan, but I couldnt, I couldnt. Jonathan was my son. Still, seeing Luke, even just seeing him, made me stronger. I went home telling myself that I would make a new effort with
Jonathan, would learn to love him.
Would make myself love him.
That night I was woken by the sound of a baby crying. I sat bolt upright, alone in the bedroom. Valentine was out at a Circle meeting, so I

had no one to share my amazement with. Jonathan, you see, never criednever made a noise. His silence was one of the things that most upset me about him. I dashed down the hall to his room, but he was sleeping silently. Still, I could hear a baby crying, I was sure of it.
I raced down the stairs, following the sound of the crying. It seemed to be coming from inside the empty wine cellar, but the door was locked, the cellar never used. But I had grown up in the manor. I knew

where my father hid the key .
Jocelyn didnt look at Clary as she spoke; she seemed lost in the story, in her memories.
I never told you the story of
Bluebeards wife, did I, when you were a little girl? The husband told his wife never to look in the locked room, and she looked, and found the remains of all the wives he had murdered before her, displayed like butterflies in a glass case. I had no idea when I unlocked that door what
I would find inside. If I had to do it

again, would I be able to bring myself to open the door, to use my witchlight to guide me down into the darkness? I dont know, Clary. I just don t know.
The smelloh, the smell down there, like blood and death and rot.
Valentine had hollowed out a place under the ground, in what had once been the wine cellar. It wasnt a child I had heard crying, after all.
There were cells down there now, with things imprisoned in them.
Demon-creatures,
bound with electrum chains, writhed and flopped and gurgled in their cells, but there was more, much morethe bodies of Downworlders, in different stages of death and dying.
There were werewolves, their bodies half-dissolved by silver powder. Vampires held head-down in holy water until their skin peeled off the bones. Faeries whose skin had been pierced with cold iron.
Even now I dont think of him as a torturer. Not really. He seemed to be pursuing an almost scientific

end. There were ledgers of notes by each cell door, meticulous recordings of his experiments, how long it had taken each creature to die. There was one vampire whose skin he had burned off over and over again to see if there was a point beyond which the poor creature could no longer regenerate.
It was hard to read what he had written without wanting to faint, or throw up. Somehow I did neither.
There was one page devoted to experiments he had done on himself.

He had read somewhere that the blood of demons might act as an amplifier of the powers
Shadowhunters are naturally born with. He had tried injecting himself with the blood, to no end. Nothing had happened except that he had made himself sick. Eventually he came to the conclusion that he was too old for the blood to affect him, that it must be given to a child to take full effectpreferably one as yet unborn. Across from the page recording

those particular conclusions he had written a series of notes with a heading I recognized. My name.
Jocelyn Morgenstern.
I remember the way my fingers shook while I turned the pages, the words burning themselves into my brain. Jocelyn drank the mixture again tonight. No visible changes in her, but again it is the child that concerns me. With regular infusions of demonic ichor such as I have been giving her, the child may be capable of any feats. Last night I

heard the childs heart beat, more strongly than any human heart, the sound like a mighty bell, tolling the beginning of a new generation of
Shadowhunters, the blood of angels and demons mixed to produce powers beyond any previously imagined possible. No longer will the power of Downworlders be the greatest on this earth .
There was more, much more. I clawed at the pages, my fingers trembling, my mind racing back, seeing the mixtures Valentine had

given me to drink each night, the nightmares about being stabbed, choked, poisoned. But I wasnt the one hed been poisoning. It was
Jonathan. Jonathan, whom hed turned into some kind of half-demon thing. And that, Clarythat was when I realized what Valentine really was.
Clary let out the breath she hadnt realized shed been holding. It was horribleso horribleand yet it all matched up with the vision Ithuriel had showed her. She wasnt sure

whom she felt more pity for, her mother or Jonathan. Jonathanshe couldnt think of him as Jace, not with her mother there, not with the story so fresh in her minddoomed to be not quite human by a father whod cared more about murdering
Downworlders than he had about his own family.
Butyou didnt leave then, did you?
Clary asked, her voice sounding small to her ears. You stayed .
For two reasons, Jocelyn said. One was the Uprising. What I found in

the cellar that night was like a slap in the face. It woke me up out of my misery and made me see what was going on around me. Once I realized what Valentine was planningthe wholesale slaughter of DownworldersI knew I couldnt let it happen. I began meeting in secret with Luke. I couldnt tell him what
Valentine had done to me and to our child. I knew it would just drive him mad, that hed be unable to stop himself from trying to hunt down
Valentine and kill him, and hed only

get himself killed in the process.
And I couldnt let anyone else know what had been done to Jonathan either. Despite everything, he was still my child. But I did tell Luke about the horrors in the cellar, of my conviction that Valentine was losing his mind, becoming progressively more insane. Together, we planned to thwart the
Uprising. I felt driven to do it,
Clary. It was a sort of expiation, the only way I could make myself feel like I had paid for the sin of ever

having joined the Circle, of having trusted Valentine. Of having loved him. And he didnt know? Valentine, I mean. He didnt figure out what you were doing?
Jocelyn shook her head. When people love you, they trust you.
Besides, at home I tried to pretend everything was normal. I behaved as though my initial revulsion at the sight of Jonathan was gone. I would bring him over to Maryse
Lightwood s house, let him play with

her baby son, Alec. Sometimes
Céline Herondale would join usshe was pregnant by that time. Your husband is so kind, she would tell me. He is so concerned about
Stephen and me. He gives me potions and mixtures for the health of the baby; they are wonderful.
Oh, said Clary. Oh my God.
Thats what I thought, said Jocelyn grimly. I wanted to tell her not to trust Valentine or to accept anything he gave her, but I couldnt. Her husband was Valentines closest

friend, and she would have betrayed me to him immediately. I kept my mouth shut. And then
She killed herself, said Clary, remembering the story. Butwas it because of what Valentine did to her? Jocelyn shook her head. I honestly dont think so. Stephen was killed in a raid, and she slit her wrists when she found out the news. She was eight months pregnant. She bled to death. She paused. Hodge was the one who found her body. And

Valentine actually did seem distraught over their deaths. He vanished for almost an entire day afterward, and came home blearyeyed and staggering. And yet in a way, I was almost grateful for his distraction. At least it meant he wasnt paying attention to what I was doing. Every day I became more and more frightened that
Valentine would discover the conspiracy and try to torture the truth out of me: Who was in our secret alliance? How much had I

betrayed of his plans? I wondered how I would withstand torture, whether I could hold up against it. I was terribly afraid that I couldnt. I resolved finally to take steps to make sure that this never happened.
I went to Fell with my fears and he created a potion for me
The potion from the Book of the
White, Clary said, realizing. Thats why you wanted it. And the antidotehow did it wind up in the
Waylands library?
I hid it there one night during a

party, said Jocelyn with the trace of a smile. I didnt want to tell LukeI knew hed hate the whole idea of the potion, but everyone else I knew was in the Circle. I sent a message to Ragnor, but he was leaving Idris and wouldnt say when hed be back.
He said he could always be reached with a messagebut who would send it? Eventually I realized there was one person I could tell, one person who hated Valentine enough that shed never betray me to him. I sent a letter to Madeleine explaining

what I planned to do and that the only way to revive me was to find
Ragnor Fell. I never heard a word back from her, but I had to believe she had read it and understood. It was all I had to hold on to.
Two reasons, Clary said. You said there were two reasons that you stayed. One was the Uprising. What was the other?
Jocelyns green eyes were tired, but luminous and wide. Clary, she said, cant you guess? The second reason is that I was pregnant again.

Pregnant with you.
Oh, Clary said in a small voice. She remembered Luke saying, She was carrying another child and had known it for weeks. But didnt that make you want to run away even more? Yes, Jocelyn said. But I knew I couldnt. If Id run away from
Valentine, he would have moved heaven and hell to get me back. He would have followed me to the ends of the earth, because I belonged to him and he would never have let me

go. And maybe I would have let him come after me, and taken my chances, but I would never have let him come after you. She pushed her hair back from her tired-looking face. There was only one way I could make sure he never did. And that was for him to die.
Clary looked at her mother in surprise. Jocelyn still looked tired, but her face was shining with a fierce light.
I thought hed be killed during the
Uprising, she said. I couldnt have

killed him myself. I couldnt have brought myself to, somehow. But I never thought hed survive the battle.
And later, when the house burned, I wanted to believe he was dead. I told myself over and over that he and Jonathan had burned to death in the fire. But I knew Her voice trailed off. It was why I did what I did. I thought it was the only way to protect youtaking your memories, making you into as much of a mundane as I could. Hiding you in the mundane world. It was stupid, I

realize that now, stupid and wrong.
And Im sorry, Clary. I just hope you can forgive meif not now, then in the future.
Mom. Clary cleared her throat.
Shed felt like she was about to cry for pretty much the last ten minutes.
Its okay. Its justtheres one thing I dont get. She knotted her fingers into the material of her coat. I mean,
I knew already a little of what
Valentine did to JaceI mean, to
Jonathan. But the way you describe
Jonathan, its like he was a monster.

And, Mom, Jace isnt like that. Hes nothing like that. If you knew himif you could just meet him
Clary. Jocelyn reached out and took
Clarys hand in hers. Theres more that I have to tell you. Theres nothing more that I hid from you, or lied about. But there are things I never knew, things I only just discovered. And they may be very hard to hear.
Worse than what youve already told me? Clary thought. She bit her lip and nodded. Go ahead and tell

me. I d rather know.
When Dorothea told me that
Valentine had been sighted in the city, I knew he was there for mefor the Cup. I wanted to flee, but I couldnt bring myself to tell you why. I dont blame you at all for running from me that awful night,
Clary. I was just glad you werent there when your fatherwhen
Valentine and his demons broke into our apartment. I just had time to swallow the potionI could hear them breaking the door down She

trailed off, her voice tight. I hoped
Valentine would leave me for dead, but he didnt. He brought me to
Renwicks with him. He tried various methods to wake me up, but nothing worked. I was in a sort of dream state; I was half-conscious that he was there, but I couldnt move or respond to him. I doubt he thought I could hear or understand him. And yet he would sit by the bed while I slept and talk to me.
Talk to you? About what?
About our past. Our marriage. How

he had loved me and I had betrayed him. How he hadnt loved anyone since. I think he meant it too, as much as he could mean these things.
I had always been the one hed talked to about the doubts he had, the guilt he felt, and in the years since Id left him I dont think thered ever been anyone else. I think he couldnt stop himself from talking to me, even though he knew he shouldnt. I think he just wanted to talk to someone. Youd have thought that what was on his mind would be

what he d done to those poor people, making them Forsaken, and what he was planning to do to the Clave. But it wasnt. What he wanted to talk about was Jonathan.
What about him?
Jocelyns mouth tightened. He wanted to tell me he was sorry for what hed done to Jonathan before hed been born, because he knew it had nearly destroyed me. Hed known I was close to suicide over
Jonathanthough he didnt know I was also despairing over what Id

discovered about him. Hed somehow gotten hold of angel blood. Its an almost legendary substance for
Shadowhunters.
Drinking it is supposed to give you incredible strength. Valentine had tried it on himself and discovered that it gave him not just increased strength but a feeling of euphoria and happiness every time he injected it into his blood. So he took some, dried it to powder, and mixed it into my food, hoping it would help my despair.

I know where he got hold of angel blood, Clary thought, thinking of
Ithuriel with a sharp sadness. Do you think it worked at all?
I do wonder now if that was why I suddenly found the focus and the ability to go on, and to help Luke thwart the Uprising. It would be ironic if that was the case, considering why Valentine did it in the first place. But what he didnt know was that while he was doing this, I was pregnant with you. So while it may have affected me

slightly, it affected you much more.
I believe thats why you can do what you can with runes.
And maybe, Clary said, why you can do things like trap the image of the Mortal Cup in a tarot card. And why Valentine can do things like take the curse off Hodge
Valentine has had years of experimenting on himself in a myriad of ways, said Jocelyn. Hes as close now as a human being, a
Shadowhunter, can get to a warlock.
But nothing he can do to himself

would have the kind of profound effect on him it would have on you or Jonathan, because you were so young. Im not sure anyones ever before done what Valentine did, not to a baby before it was born.
So JaceJonathanand I really were both experiments.
You were an unintentional one.
With Jonathan, Valentine wanted to create some kind of superwarrior, stronger and faster and better than other Shadowhunters. At Renwicks,
Valentine told me that Jonathan

really was all those things. But that he was also cruel and amoral and strangely empty. Jonathan was loyal enough to Valentine, but I suppose
Valentine realized that somewhere along the way, in trying to create a child who was superior to others, hed created a son who could never really love him.
Clary thought of Jace, of the way hed looked at Renwicks, the way hed clutched that piece of the broken Portal so hard that blood had run down his fingers. No, she

said. No and no. Jace is not like that. He does love Valentine. He shouldnt, but he does. And he isnt empty. Hes the opposite of everything you re saying.
Jocelyns hands twisted in her lap.
They were laced all over with fine white scarsthe fine white scars all
Shadowhunters bore, the memory of vanished Marks. But Clary had never really seen her mothers scars before. Magnuss magic had always made her forget them. There was one, on the inside of her mothers

wrist, that was very like the shape of a star .
Her mother spoke then, and all thoughts of anything else fled from
Clary s mind.
I am not, Jocelyn said, talking about
Jace.
But, Clary said. Everything seemed to be happening very slowly, as if she were dreaming. Maybe I am dreaming, she thought. Maybe my mother never woke up at all, and all of this is a dream. Jace is
Valentines son. I mean, who else

could he be?
Jocelyn looked straight into her daughters eyes. The night Céline
Herondale died, she was eight months pregnant. Valentine had been giving her potions, powdershe was trying on her what hed tried on himself, with Ithuriels blood, hoping that Stephens child would be as strong and powerful as he suspected Jonathan would be, but without Jonathans worse qualities.
He couldnt bear that his experiment would go to waste, so with Hodges

help he cut the baby out of Célines stomach. Shed only been dead a short time
Clary made a gagging noise. That isn t possible.
Jocelyn went on as if Clary hadnt spoken. Valentine took that baby and had Hodge bring it to his own childhood home, in a valley not far from Lake Lyn. It was why he was gone all that night. Hodge took care of the baby until the Uprising. After that, because Valentine was pretending to be Michael Wayland,

he moved the child to the Wayland manor and raised him as Michael
Wayland s son.
So Jace, Clary whispered. Jace is not my brother?
She felt her mother squeeze her handa sympathetic squeeze. No,
Clary. He s not.
Clarys vision darkened. She could feel her heart pounding in separate, distinct beats. My mom feels sorry for me, she thought distantly. She thinks this is bad news. Her hands were shaking. Then whose bones

were those in the fire? Luke said there were a child s bones
Jocelyn shook her head. Those were
Michael Waylands bones, and his sons bones. Valentine killed them both and burned their bodies. He wanted the Clave to believe that both he and his son were dead.
Then Jonathan
Is alive, said Jocelyn, pain flashing across her face. Valentine told me as much at Renwicks. Valentine brought Jace up in the Wayland manor, and Jonathan in the house

near the lake. He managed to divide his time between the two of them, traveling from one house to the other, sometimes leaving one or both alone for long periods of time.
It seems that Jace never knew about
Jonathan, though Jonathan may have known about Jace. They never met, though they probably lived only miles from each other.
And Jace doesnt have demon blood in him? He s not cursed?
Cursed? Jocelyn looked surprised.
No, he doesnt have demon blood.

Clary, Valentine experimented on
Jace when he was a baby with the same blood he used on me, on you.
Angel blood. Jace isnt cursed. The opposite, if anything. All
Shadowhunters have some of the
Angels blood in themyou two just have a bit more.
Clarys mind whirled. She tried to imagine Valentine raising two children at the same time, one part demon, one part angel. One shadow boy, and one light. Loving them both, perhaps, as much as Valentine

could love anything. Jace had never known about Jonathan, but what had the other boy known about him? His complementary part, his opposite?
Had he hated the thought of him?
Yearned to meet him? Been indifferent? They had both been so alone. And one of them was her brotherher real, full-blooded brother. Do you think hes still the same? Jonathan, I mean? Do you think he could have gotten better?
I don t think so, Jocelyn said gently.
But what makes you so sure? Clary

spun to look at her mother, suddenly eager. I mean, maybe hes changed.
It s been years. Maybe
Valentine told me he had spent years teaching Jonathan how to appear pleasant, even charming. He wanted him to be a spy, and you cant be a spy if you terrify everyone you meet. Jonathan even learned a certain ability to cast slight glamours, to convince people he was likable and trustworthy.
Jocelyn sighed. Im telling you this so you wont feel bad that you were

taken in. Clary, youve met Jonathan.
He just never told you his real name, because he was posing as someone else. Sebastian Verlac.
Clary stared at her mother. But hes the Penhallows cousin, part of her mind insisted, but of course
Sebastian had never been who hed claimed he was; everything he d said had been a lie. She thought of the way shed felt the first time shed seen him, as if she were recognizing someone shed known all her life, someone as intimately familiar to

her as her own self. She had never felt that way about Jace. Sebastians my brother?
Jocelyns fine-boned face was drawn, her hands laced together.
Her fingertips were white, as if she were pressing them too hard against one another. I spoke to Luke for a long time today about everything thats happened in Alicante since you arrived. He told me about the demon towers, and his suspicion that Sebastian had destroyed the wards, though he had no idea how. I

realized then who Sebastian really was. You mean because he lied about being Sebastian Verlac? And because he s a spy for Valentine?
Those two things, yes, said Jocelyn, but it actually wasnt until Luke said that youd told him Sebastian dyed his hair that I guessed. And I could be wrong, but a boy just a little older than you, fair-haired and dark-eyed, with no apparent parents, utterly loyal to ValentineI couldnt help but think he must be

Jonathan. And theres more than that.
Valentine was always trying to find a way to bring the wards down, always determined that there was a way to do it. Experimenting on
Jonathan with demon bloodhe said it was to make him stronger, a better fighter, but there was more to it than that Clary stared. What do you mean, more to it?
It was his way of bringing down the wards, Jocelyn said. You cant bring a demon into Alicante, but you need

demons blood to take down the wards. Jonathan has demon blood; its in his veins. And his being a
Shadowhunter means hes granted automatic entrance to the city whenever he wants to get in, no matter what. He used his own blood to take the wards down, Im sure of it. Clary thought of Sebastian standing across from her in the grass near the ruins of Fairchild manor. The way his dark hair had blown across his face. The way hed held her wrists,

his nails digging into her skin. The way hed said it was impossible that
Valentine had ever loved Jace.
Shed thought it was because he hated Valentine. But it wasnt, she realized. He d been jealous.
She thought of the dark prince of her drawings, the one who had looked so much like Sebastian. She had dismissed the resemblance as coincidence, a trick of imagination, but now she wondered if it was the tie of their shared blood that had driven her to give the unhappy hero

of her story her brothers face. She tried to visualize the prince again, but the image seemed to shatter and dissolve before her eyes, like ash blown away on the wind. She could only see Sebastian now, the red light of the burning city reflected in his eyes.
Jace, she said. Someone has to tell him. Has to tell him the truth. Her thoughts tumbled over themselves, helter-skelter; if Jace had known, known he didnt have demon blood, maybe he wouldnt have gone after

Valentine. If hed known he wasnt
Clary s brother after all
But I thought, said Jocelyn, with a mixture of sympathy and puzzlement, that nobody knew where he was ?
Before Clary could answer, the double doors of the Hall swung open, spilling light out over the pillared arcade and the steps below it. The dull roar of voices, no longer muffled, rose as Luke came through the doors. He looked exhausted, but there was a lightness

about him that hadnt been there before. He seemed almost relieved.
Jocelyn rose to her feet. Luke. What is it?
He took a few steps toward them, then paused between the doorway and the stairs. Jocelyn, he said, Im sorry to interrupt you.
Thats all right, Luke. Even through her daze Clary thought, Why do they keep saying each others names like that? There was a sort of awkwardness between them now, an awkwardness that hadnt been

there before. Is something wrong?
He shook his head. No. For a change, somethings right. He smiled at Clary, and there was nothing awkward about it: He looked pleased with her, and even proud.
You did it, Clary, he said. The
Claves agreed to let you Mark them.
There will be no surrender after all.

18

HAIL AND FAREWELL

The valley was more beautiful in reality than it had been in Jaces vision. Maybe it was the bright moonlight silvering the river that cut across the green valley floor. White birch and aspen dotted the valleys sides, shivering their leaves in the cool breezeit was chilly up on the ridge, with no protection from the wind. This was without a doubt the valley

where hed last seen Sebastian.
Finally he was catching up. After securing Wayfarer to a tree, Jace took the bloody thread from his pocket and repeated the tracking ritual, just to be sure.
He closed his eyes, expecting to see
Sebastian, hopefully somewhere very close bymaybe even still in the valley Instead he saw only darkness.
His heart began to pound.
He tried again, moving the thread to his left fist and awkwardly carving

the tracking rune onto the back of it with his right, less agile, hand. He took a deep breath before closing his eyes this time.
Nothing, again. Just a wavering, shadowy blackness. He stood there for a full minute, his teeth gritted, the wind slicing through his jacket, making goose bumps rise on his skin. Eventually, cursing, he opened his eyesand then, in a fit of desperate anger, his fist; the wind picked up the thread and carried it away, so fast that even if hed

regretted it immediately he couldnt have caught it back.
His mind raced. Clearly the tracking rune was no longer working.
Perhaps Sebastian had realized he was being followed and done something to break the charmbut w h a t could you do to stop a tracking? Maybe hed found a large body of water. Water disrupted magic. Not that that helped Jace much. It wasnt as if he could go to every lake in the country and see if

Sebastian was floating around in the middle of it. Hed been so close, tooso close. Hed seen this valley, seen Sebastian in it. And there the house was, just barely visible, nestled against a copse of trees on the valley floor. At least it would be worth going down to look around the house to see if there was anything that might point toward
Sebastian s, or Valentine s, location.
With a feeling of resignation, Jace used the stele to Mark himself with a number of fast-acting, fast-

disappearing battle Marks: one to give him silence, and one swiftness, and another for sure-footed walking. When he was doneand feeling the familiar, stinging pain hot against his skinhe slid the stele into his pocket, gave Wayfarer a brisk pat on the neck, and headed down into the valley.
The sides of the valley were deceptively steep, and treacherous with loose scree. Jace alternated picking his way down it carefully and sliding on the scree, which was

fast but dangerous. By the time he reached the valley floor, his hands were bloody where hed fallen onto the loose gravel more than once. He washed them in the clear, fastflowing stream; its water was numbingly cold.
When he straightened up and looked around, he realized he was now regarding the valley from a different angle than hed had in the tracking vision. There was the gnarled copse of trees, their branches intertwining, the valley walls rising all around,

and there was the small house. Its windows were dark now, and no smoke rose out of the chimney. Jace felt a mingled stab of relief and disappointment. It would be easier to search the house if no one was in it. On the other hand, no one was in it. As he approached, he wondered what about the house in the vision had seemed eerie. Up close, it was just an ordinary Idris farmhouse, made of squares of white and gray stone. The shutters had once been

painted a bright blue, but it looked as if it had been years since anyone had repainted them. They were pale and peeling with age.
Reaching one of the windows, Jace hoisted himself onto the sill and peered through the cloudy pane. He saw a big, slightly dusty room with a workbench of sorts running along one wall. The tools on it werent anything youd do handiwork withthey were a warlocks tools: stacks of smeared parchment; black, waxy candles; fat copper bowls

with dried dark liquid stuck to the rims; an assortment of knives, some as thin as awls, some with wide square blades. A pentagram was chalked on the floor, its outlines blurred, each of its five points decorated with a different rune.
Jaces stomach tightenedthe runes looked like the ones that had been carved around Ithuriels feet. Could
Valentine have done thiscould these b e his things? Was this his hideawaya hideaway Jace had never visited or known about?

Jace slid off the sill, landing in a dry patch of grassjust as a shadow passed across the face of the moon.
But there were no birds here, he thought, and glanced up just in time to see a raven wheeling overhead.
He froze, then stepped hastily into the shadow of a tree and peered up through its branches. As the raven dipped closer to the ground, Jace knew his first instinct had been right. This wasnt just any raventhis was Hugo, the raven that had once been Hodges; Hodge had used him

on occasion to carry messages outside the Institute. Since then Jace had learned that Hugo had originally been his father s.
Jace pressed himself closer to the tree trunk. His heart was pounding again, this time with excitement. If
Hugo was here, it could only mean that he was carrying a message, and this time the message wouldnt be for Hodge. It would be for
Valentine. It had to be. If Jace could only manage to follow him
Perching on a sill, Hugo peered

through one of the houses windows.
Apparently realizing that the house was empty, the bird rose into the air with an irritable caw and flapped off in the direction of the stream.
Jace stepped out from the shadows and set out in pursuit of the raven.

So, technically, Simon said, even though Jace isnt actually related to you, you have kissed your brother.

Simon! Clary was appalled. Shut
UP. She spun in her seat to see if anyone was listening, but, fortunately, nobody seemed to be.
She was sitting in a high seat on the dais in the Accords Hall, Simon by her side. Her mother stood at the edge of the dais, leaning down to speak to Amatis.
All around them the Hall was chaos as the Downworlders who had come from the North Gate poured in, spilling in through the doors, crowding against the walls. Clary

recognized various members of
Lukes pack, including Maia, who grinned across the room at her.
There were faeries, pale and cold and lovely as icicles and warlocks with bat wings and goat feet and even one with antlers, blue fire sparking from their fingertips as they moved through the room. The
Shadowhunters milled among them, looking nervous.
Clutching her stele in both hands,
Clary looked around anxiously.
Where was Luke? Hed vanished

into the crowd. She picked him out after a moment, talking with
Malachi, who was shaking his head violently. Amatis stood nearby, shooting the Consul dagger glances.
Dont make me sorry I ever told you any of this, Simon, Clary said, glaring at him. Shed done her best to give him a pared-down version of Jocelyns tale, mostly hissed under her breath as hed helped her plow through the crowds to the dais and take her seat there. It was weird being up here, looking down on the

room as if she were the queen of all she surveyed. But a queen wouldnt be nearly so panicked. Besides. He was a horrible kisser.
Or maybe it was just gross, because he was, you know, your brother.
Simon seemed more amused by the whole business than Clary thought he had any right to be.
Do not say that where my mother can hear you, or Ill kill you, she said with a second glare. I already feel like Im going to throw up or pass out. Don t make it worse.

Jocelyn, returning from the edge of the dais in time to hear Clarys last wordsthough, fortunately, not what she and Simon had been discussingdropped a reassuring pat onto Clarys shoulder. Dont be nervous, baby. You were so great before. Is there anything you need?
A blanket, some hot water
Im not cold, Clary said patiently, and I dont need a bath, either. Im fine. I just want Luke to come up here and tell me what s going on.
Jocelyn waved toward Luke to get

his attention, silently mouthing something Clary couldnt quite decipher. Mom, she spat, don t, but it was already too late. Luke glanced upand so did quite a few of the other Shadowhunters. Most of them looked away just as quickly, but Clary sensed the fascination in their stares. It was weird thinking that her mother was something of a legendary figure here. Just about everyone in the room had heard her name and had some kind of opinion about her, good or bad. Clary

wondered how her mother kept it from bothering her. She didnt look botheredshe looked cool and collected and dangerous.
A moment later Luke had joined them on the dais, Amatis at his side.
He still looked tired, but also alert and even a little excited. He said,
Just hang on a second. Everyones coming. Malachi, said Jocelyn, not quite looking directly at Luke while she spoke, was he giving you trouble?
Luke made a dismissive gesture. He

thinks we should send a message to
Valentine, refusing his terms. I say we shouldnt tip our hand. Let
Valentine show up with his army on
B r o c e l i nd Plain expecting a surrender. Malachi seemed to think that wouldn t be sporting, and when I told him war wasnt an English schoolboy cricket game, he said that if any of the Downworlders here got out of hand, hed step in and end the whole business. I dont know what he thinks is going to happenas if
Downworlders cant stop fighting

even for five minutes.
Thats exactly what he thinks, said
Amatis. Its Malachi. Hes probably worried youll start eating each other. Amatis, Luke said. Someone might hear you. He turned, then, as two men mounted the steps behind him: one was a tall, slender faerie knight with long dark hair that fell in sheets on either side of his narrow face. He wore a tunic of white armor: pale, hard metal made of tiny overlapping circles, like the

scales of a fish. His eyes were leaf green. The other man was Magnus Bane.
He didnt smile at Clary as he came to stand beside Luke. He wore a long, dark coat buttoned up to the throat, and his black hair was pulled back from his face.
You look so plain, Clary said, staring. Magnus smiled faintly. I heard you had a rune to show us, was all he said. Clary looked at Luke, who nodded.

Oh, yes, she said. I just need something to write on some paper.
I asked you if you needed anything,
Jocelyn said under her breath, sounding very much like the mother
Clary remembered.
Ive got paper, said Simon, fishing something out of his jeans pocket.
He handed it to her. It was a crumpled flyer for his bands performance at the Knitting Factory in July. She shrugged and flipped it over, raising her borrowed stele. It sparked slightly when she touched

the tip to the paper, and she worried for a moment that the flyer might burn, but the tiny flame subsided.
She set to drawing, doing her best to shut everything else out: the noise of the crowd, the feeling that everyone was staring at her.
The rune came out as it had beforea pattern of lines that curved strongly into one another, then stretched across the page as if expecting a completion that wasnt there. She brushed dust from the page and held it up, feeling absurdly as if she

were in school and showing off some sort of presentation to her class. This is the rune, she said. It requires a second rune to complete it, to work properly. A partner rune.
One
Downworlder, one Shadowhunter. Each half of the partnership has to be Marked, Luke said. He scribbled a copy of the rune on the bottom of the page, tore the paper in half, and handed one illustration to Amatis. Start circulating the rune, he said. Show the Nephilim how it works.

With a nod Amatis vanished down the steps and into the crowd. The faerie knight, glancing after her, shook his head. I have always been told that only the Nephilim can bear the Angels Marks, he said, with a measure of distrust. That others of us will run mad, or die, should we wear them.
This isnt one of the Angels Marks, said Clary. Its not from the Gray
Book. It s safe, I promise.
The
faerie knight looked unimpressed. With a sigh Magnus flipped his sleeve back and reached a hand out to Clary. Go ahead.
I cant, she said. The Shadowhunter who Marks you will be your partner, and Im not fighting in the battle. I should hope not, said Magnus. He glanced over at Luke and Jocelyn, who were standing close together.
You two, he said. Go on, then.
Show the faerie how it works.
Jocelyn blinked in surprise. What?
I assumed, Magnus said, that you

two would be partners, since youre practically married anyway.
Color flooded up into Jocelyns face, and she carefully avoided looking at Luke. I don t have a stele
Take mine. Clary handed it over.
Go ahead, show them.
Jocelyn turned to Luke, who seemed entirely taken aback. He thrust out his hand before she could ask for it, and she Marked his palm with a hasty precision. His hand shook as she drew, and she took his wrist to steady it; Luke looked down at her

as she worked, and Clary thought of their conversation about her mother and what he had told her about his feelings for Jocelyn, and she felt a pang of sadness. She wondered if her mother even knew that Luke loved her, and if she knew, what she would say.
There. Jocelyn drew the stele back.
Done.
Luke raised his hand, palm out, and showed the swirling black mark in its center to the faerie knight. Is that satisfactory, Meliorn?

Meliorn? said Clary. Ive met you, havent I? You used to go out with
Isabelle Lightwood.
Meliorn was almost expressionless, but Clary could have sworn he looked ever so slightly uncomfortable. Luke shook his head. Clary, Meliorn is a knight of the Seelie Court. Its very unlikely that he
He was totally dating Isabelle,
Simon said, and she dumped him too. At least she said she was going to. Tough break, man.

Meliorn blinked at him. You, he said with distaste, you are the chosen representative of the Night
Children?
Simon shook his head. No. Im just here for her. He pointed at Clary.
The Night Children, said Luke, after a brief hesitation, arent participating, Meliorn. I did convey that information to your Lady.
Theyve chosen toto go their own way. Meliorns delicate features drew down into a scowl. Would that I had

known that, he said. The Night
Children are a wise and careful people. Any scheme that draws their ire draws my suspicions.
I didnt say anything about ire, Luke began, with a mixture of deliberate calm and faint exasperationClary doubted that anyone who didnt know him well would know he was irritated at all. She could sense the shift in his attention: He was looking down toward the crowd.
Following his gaze, Clary saw a familiar figure cut a path across the

roomIsabelle, her black hair swinging, her whip wrapped around her wrist like a series of golden bracelets. Clary caught Simons wrist. The
Lightwoods. I just saw Isabelle.
He glanced toward the crowd, frowning. I didnt realize you were looking for them.
Please go talk to her for me, she whispered, glancing over to see if anyone was paying attention to them; nobody was. Luke was gesturing toward someone in the

crowd; meanwhile, Jocelyn was saying something to Meliorn, who was looking at her with something approaching alarm. I have to stay here, butplease, I need you to tell her and Alec what my mother told me. About Jace and who he really is, and Sebastian. They have to know. Tell them to come and talk to me as soon as they can. Please,
Simon.
All right. Clearly worried by the intensity of her tone, Simon freed his wrist from her grasp and

touched her reassuringly on the cheek. I ll be back.
He went down the steps and vanished into the throng; when she turned back, she saw that Magnus was looking at her, his mouth set in a crooked line. Its fine, he said, obviously answering whatever question Luke had just asked him.
I m familiar with Brocelind Plain. I ll set the Portal up in the square. One that big wont last very long, though, so youd better get everyone through it pretty quickly once theyre

Marked.
As Luke nodded and turned to say something to Jocelyn, Clary leaned forward and said quietly, Thanks, by the way. For everything you did for my mom.
Magnuss uneven smile broadened.
You didnt think I was going to do it, did you?
I wondered, Clary admitted.
Especially considering that when I saw you at the cottage, you didnt even see fit to tell me that Jace brought Simon through the Portal

with him when he came to Alicante.
I didnt have a chance to yell at you about that before, but what were you thinking? That I wouldnt be interested? That youd be too interested, said
Magnus. That youd drop everything and go rushing off to the Gard. And
I needed you to look for the Book of the White.
Thats ruthless, Clary said angrily.
And you re wrong. I would have
Done what anyone would have done. What I would have done if it

were someone I cared about. I dont blame you, Clary, and I didnt do it because I thought you were weak. I did it because youre human, and I know humanitys ways. Ive been alive a long time.
Like you never do anything stupid because you have feelings, Clary said. Wheres Alec, anyway? Why arent you off choosing him as your partner right now?
Magnus seemed to wince. I wouldnt approach him with his parents there.
You know that.

Clary propped her chin on her hand.
Doing the right thing because you love someone sucks sometimes.
It does, Magnus said, at that.

The raven flew in slow, lazy circles, making its way over the treetops toward the western wall of the valley. The moon was high, eliminating the need for witchlight as Jace followed, keeping to the

edges of the trees.
The valley wall rose above, a sheer wall of gray rock. The ravens path seemed to be following the curve of the stream as it wended its way west, disappearing finally into a narrow fissure in the wall. Jace nearly twisted his ankle several times on wet rock and wished he could swear out loud, but Hugo would be sure to hear him. Bent into an uncomfortable half crouch, he concentrated on not breaking a leg instead. His shirt was soaked with sweat by the time he reached the edge of the valley. For a moment he thought hed lost sight of Hugo, and his heart fellthen he saw the black sinking shape as the raven swooped low and disappeared into the dark, fissured hole in the valleys rock wall. Jace ran forwardit was such a relief to run instead of crawl. As he neared the fissure, he could see a much larger, darker gap beyond ita cove. Fumbling his witchlight stone out of his pocket, Jace dived in after

the raven.
Only a little light seeped in through the caves mouth, and after a few steps even that was swallowed up by the oppressive darkness. Jace raised his witchlight and let the illumination bleed out between his fingers. At first he thought hed somehow found his way outside again, and that the stars were visible overhead in all their glittering glory. The stars never shone anywhere else the way they shone in Idrisand they werent

shining now. The witchlight had picked out dozens of sparkling deposits of mica in the rock around him, and the walls had come alive with brilliant points of light.
They showed him that he was standing in a narrow space carved out of sheer rock, the cave entrance behind him, two branching dark tunnels ahead. Jace thought of the stories his father had told him about heroes lost in mazes who used rope or twine to find their way back. He didnt have either of those on him,

though. He moved closer to the tunnels and stood silent for a long moment, listening. He heard the drip of water, faintly, from somewhere far away; the rush of the stream, a rustling like wings, and voices.
He jerked back. The voices were coming from the left-hand tunnel, he was sure of it. He ran his thumb over the witchlight to dim it, until it was giving off a faint glow that was just enough to light his way. Then he plunged forward into the darkness.

Are you serious, Simon? Its really true? Thats fantastic! Its wonderful!
Isabelle reached out for her brothers hand. Alec, did you hear what Simon said? Jace isn t
Valentine s son. He never was.
So whose son is he? Alec replied, though Simon had the feeling that he was only partly paying attention. He seemed to be casting around the room for something. His parents

stood a little distance away, frowning in their direction; Simon had been worried hed have to explain the whole business to them, too, but theyd nicely allowed him a few minutes with Isabelle and Alec alone. Who cares! Isabelle threw her hands up in delight, then frowned.
Actually, thats a good point. Who was his father? Michael Wayland after all?
Simon shook his head. Stephen
Herondale.

So he was the Inquisitors grandson,
Alec said. That must be why she He broke off, staring into the distance.
Why she what? Isabelle demanded.
Alec, pay attention. Or at least tell us what you re looking for.
Not what, said Alec. Who. Magnus.
I wanted to ask him if hed be my partner in the battle. But Ive no idea where he is. Have you seen him? he asked, directing his question at
Simon.
Simon shook his head. He was up on the dais with Clary, buthe craned

his neck to lookhes not now. Hes probably in the crowd somewhere.
Really? Are you going to ask him to be your partner? Isabelle asked. Its like a cotillion, this partners business, except with killing.
So, exactly like a cotillion, said
Simon.
Maybe Ill ask you to be my partner,
Simon, Isabelle said, raising an eyebrow delicately.
Alec frowned. He was, like the rest of the Shadowhunters in the room, entirely geared upall in black, with

a belt from which dangled multiple weapons. A bow was strapped across his back; Simon was happy to see hed found a replacement for the one Sebastian had smashed.
Isabelle, you dont need a partner, because youre not fighting. Youre too young. And if you even think about it, Ill kill you. His head jerked up. Wait is that Magnus?
Isabelle, following his gaze, snorted. Alec, thats a werewolf. A girl werewolf. In fact, its whatsher-name. May.

Maia, Simon corrected. She was standing a little ways away, wearing brown leather pants and a tight black T-shirt that said
WHATEVER DOESNT KILL
MEHAD
BETTER
START
RUNNING. A cord held back her braided hair. She turned, as if sensing their eyes on her, and smiled. Simon smiled back. Isabelle glowered. Simon stopped smiling hastilywhen exactly had his life gotten so complicated?
Alecs face lit up. Theres Magnus,

he said, and took off without a backward glance, shearing a path through the crowd to the space where the tall warlock stood.
Magnuss
surprise as Alec approached him was visible, even from this distance.
Its sort of sweet, said Isabelle, looking at them, you know, in kind of a lame way.
Why lame?
Because, Isabelle explained, Alecs trying to get Magnus to take him seriously, but hes never told our

parents about Magnus, or even that he likes, you know
Warlocks? Simon said.
Very funny. Isabelle glared at him.
You know what I mean. Whats going on here is
What is going on, exactly? asked
Maia, striding into earshot. I mean, I dont quite get this partners thing.
How is it supposed to work?
Like that. Simon pointed toward
Alec and Magnus, who stood a bit apart from the crowd, in their own small space. Alec was drawing on

Magnuss hand, his face intent, his dark hair falling forward to hide his eyes. So we all have to do that? Maia said. Get drawn on, I mean.
Only if youre going to fight, Isabelle said, looking at the other girl coldly. You don t look eighteen yet.
Maia smiled tightly. Im not a
Shadowhunter. Lycanthropes are considered adults at sixteen.
Well, you have to get drawn on, then, said Isabelle. By a
Shadowhunter. So youd better look

for one.
But Maia, still looking over at Alec and Magnus, broke off and raised her eyebrows. Simon turned to see what she was looking at and stared.
Alec had his arms around Magnus and was kissing him, full on the mouth. Magnus, who appeared to be in a state of shock, stood frozen.
Several
groups of peopleShadowhunters and Downworlders alikewere staring and whispering. Glancing to the side, Simon saw the Lightwoods,

their eyes wide, gaping at the display. Maryse had her hand over her mouth.
Maia looked perplexed. Wait a second, she said. Do we all have to do that, too?

For the sixth time Clary scanned the crowd, looking for Simon. She couldnt find him. The room was a roiling mass of Shadowhunters and

Downworlders, the crowd spilling through the open doors and onto the steps outside. Everywhere was the flash of steles as Downworlders and Shadowhunters came together in pairs and Marked each other.
Clary saw Maryse Lightwood holding out her hand to a tall greenskinned faerie woman who was just as pale and regal as she was.
Patrick Penhallow was solemnly exchanging Marks with a warlock whose hair shone with blue sparks.
Through the Hall doors Clary could

see the bright glimmer of the Portal in the square. The starlight shining down through the glass skylight lent a surreal air to all of it.
Amazing, isnt it? Luke said. He stood at the edge of the dais, looking down over the room.
Shadowhunters and Downworlders, mingling together in the same room.
Working together. He sounded awed. All Clary could think was that she wished Jace were here to see what was happening. She couldnt put aside her fear for him,

no matter how hard she tried. The idea that he might face down
Valentine, might risk his life because he thought he was cursedthat he might die without ever knowing it wasn t true
Clary, Jocelyn said, with a trace of amusement, did you hear what I said? I did, said Clary, and it is amazing,
I know.
Jocelyn put her hand on top of
Clarys. Thats not what I was saying.
Luke and I will both be fighting. I

know you know that. Youll be staying here with Isabelle and the other children.
I m not a child.
I know youre not, but youre too young to fight. And even if you weren t, you ve never been trained.
I dont want to just sit here and do nothing. Nothing?
Jocelyn
said in amazement. Clary, none of this would be happening if it wasnt for you. We wouldnt even have a chance to fight if it wasnt for you.

Im so proud of you. I just wanted to tell you that even though Luke and I will be gone, well be coming back.
Everything s going to be fine.
Clary looked up at her mother, into the green eyes so like her own.
Mom, she said. Don t lie.
Jocelyn took a sharp breath and stood up, drawing her hand back.
Before she could say anything, something caught Clarys eyea familiar face in the crowd. A slim, dark figure, moving purposely toward them, slipping through the

thronged Hall with deliberate and surprising easeas if he could drift through the crowd, like smoke through the gaps in a fence.
And he was, Clary realized, as he neared the dais. It was Raphael, dressed in the same white shirt and black pants shed first seen him in.
She had forgotten how slight he was. He looked barely fourteen as he climbed the stairs, his thin face calm and angelic, like a choirboy mounting the steps to the chancel.
Raphael.
Lukes voice held

amazement, mixed with relief. I didnt think you were coming. Have the Night Children reconsidered joining us in fighting Valentine?
Theres still a Council seat open for you, if youd like to take it. He held a hand out to Raphael.
Raphaels clear and lovely eyes regarded him expressionlessly. I cannot shake hands with you, werewolf. When Luke looked offended, he smiled, just enough to show the white tips of his fang teeth. I am a Projection, he said,

raising his hand so that they could all see how the light shone through it. I can touch nothing.
But Luke glanced up at the moonlight pouring through the roof.
Why He lowered his hand. Well, Im glad youre here. However you choose to appear.
Raphael shook his head. For a moment his eyes lingered on Clarya look she really didnt likeand then he turned his gaze to Jocelyn, and his smile widened. You, he said,
Valentines wife. Others of my kind,

who fought with you at the Uprising, told me of you. I admit I never thought I would see you myself.
Jocelyn inclined her head. Many of the Night Children fought very bravely then. Does your presence here indicate that we might fight alongside each other once again?
It was odd, Clary thought, to hear her mother speak in that cool and formal way, and yet it seemed natural to Jocelyn. As natural in its way as sitting on the ground in ancient overalls, holding a paint-

splattered brush.
I hope so, Raphael said, and his gaze brushed Clary again, like the touch of a cold hand. We have only one requirement, one simpleand smallrequest. If that is honored, the
Night Children of many lands will happily go to battle at your side.
The Council seat, said Luke. Of courseit can be formalized, the documents drawn up within the hour
Not, said Raphael, the Council seat.
Something else.
Somethingelse?
Luke echoed blankly. What is it? I assure you, if it s in our power
Oh, it is. Raphaels smile was blinding. In fact, it is something that is within the walls of this Hall as we speak. He turned and gestured gracefully toward the crowd. Is is the boy Simon that we want, he said. It is the Daylighter.

The tunnel was long and twisting,

switchbacking on itself over and over as if Jace were crawling through the entrails of an enormous monster. It smelled like wet rock and ashes and something else, something dank and odd that reminded Jace ever so slightly of the smell of the Bone City.
At last the tunnel opened out into a circular chamber. Huge stalactites, their surfaces as burnished as gems, hung down from a ridged, stony ceiling high above. The floor was as smooth as if it had been polished,

alternating here and there with arcane patterns of gleaming inlaid stone. A series of rough stalagmites circled the chamber. In the very center of the room stood a single massive quartz stalagmite, rearing up from the floor like a gigantic fang, patterned here and there with a reddish design. Peering closer, Jace saw that the sides of the stalagmite were transparent, the reddish pattern the result of something swirling and moving inside it, like a glass test tube full of colored

smoke.
High above, light filtered down from a circular hole in the stone, a natural skylight. The chamber had certainly been a product of design rather than accidentthe intricate patterns tracing the floor made that much obviousbut who would have hollowed out such an enormous underground chamber, and why?
A sharp caw echoed through the room, sending a shock through Jace s nerves. He ducked behind a bulky stalagmite, dousing his witchlight,

just as two figures emerged from the shadows at the far end of the room and moved toward him, their heads bent together in conversation. It was only when they reached the center of the room and the light struck them that he recognized them.
Sebastian.
And Valentine.

Hoping to avoid the crowd, Simon

took the long way back toward the dais, ducking behind the rows of pillars that lined the sides of the
Hall. He kept his head down as he went, lost in thought. It seemed strange that Alec, only a year or two older than Isabelle, was heading off to fight in a war, and the rest of them were going to stay behind.
And Isabelle seemed calm about it.
No crying, no hysterics. It was as if shed expected it. Maybe she had.
Maybe they all had.
He was close to the dais steps when

he glanced up and saw, to his surprise, Raphael standing across from Luke, looking his usual nearexpressionless self. Luke, on the other hand, looked agitatedhe was shaking his head, his hands up in protest, and Jocelyn, beside him, looked outraged. Simon couldnt see
Clarys faceher back was to himbut he knew her well enough to recognize her tension just from the set of her shoulders.
Not wanting Raphael to see him,
Simon ducked behind a pillar,

listening. Even over the babble of the crowd, he was able to hear
Luke s rising voice.
Its out of the question, Luke was saying. I cant believe youd even ask. And I cant believe you would refuse. Raphaels voice was cool and clear, the sharp, still-high voice of a young boy. It is such a small thing. It s not a thing. Clary sounded angry.
It s Simon. He s a person.
Hes a vampire, said Raphael.

Which you seem to keep forgetting.
Arent you a vampire as well? asked
Jocelyn, her tone as freezing as it had been every time Clary and
Simon had ever gotten in trouble for doing something stupid. Are you saying your life has no worth?
Simon pressed himself back against the pillar. What was going on?
My life has great worth, said
Raphael, being, unlike yours, eternal. There is no end to what I might accomplish, while there is a clear end where you are concerned.

But that is not the issue. He is a vampire, one of my own, and I am asking for him back.
You cant have him back, Clary snapped. You never had him in the first place. You were never even interested in him either, till you found out he could walk around in daylight Possibly, said Raphael, but not for the reason you think. He cocked his head, his bright, soft eyes dark and darting as a birds. No vampire should have the power he has, he

said, just as no Shadowhunter should have the power that you and your brother do. For years we have been told that we are wrong and unnatural. But this this is unnatural.
Raphael. Lukes tone was warning. I dont know what you were hoping for. But theres no chance well let you hurt Simon.
But you will let Valentine and his army of demons hurt all these people, your allies. Raphael made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the room. You will let them risk

their lives at their own discretion but wont give Simon the same choice? Perhaps he would make a different one than you will. He lowered his arm. You know we will not fight with you otherwise.
The Night Children will have no part in this day.
Then have no part in it, said Luke. I wont buy your cooperation with an innocent life. I m not Valentine.
Raphael turned to Jocelyn. What about you, Shadowhunter? Are you going to let this werewolf decide

what s best for your people?
Jocelyn was looking at Raphael as if he were a roach shed found crawling across her clean kitchen floor. Very slowly she said, If you lay one hand on Simon, vampire, Ill have you chopped up into tiny pieces and fed to my cat.
Understand?
Raphaels mouth tightened. Very well, he said. When you lie dying on Brocelind Plain, you may ask yourself whether one life was truly worth so many.

He vanished. Luke turned quickly to
Clary, but Simon was no longer watching them: He was looking down at his hands. He had thought they would be shaking, but they were as motionless as a corpses.
Very slowly, he closed them into fists. Valentine looked as he always had, a big man in modified Shadowhunter gear, his broad, thick shoulders at odds with his sharply planed, fine-featured face. He had the Mortal Sword strapped across his back along with a bulky satchel.
He wore a wide belt with numerous weapons thrust through it: thick hunting daggers, narrow dirks, and skinning knives. Staring at Valentine from behind the rock, Jace felt as he always did now when he thought of his fathera persistent familial affection corroded through with bleakness, disappointment, and

mistrust.
It was strange seeing his father with
Sebastian, who lookeddifferent. He wore gear as well, and a long silver-hilted sword strapped at his waist, but it wasnt what he was wearing that struck Jace as odd. It was his hair, no longer a cap of dark curls but fair, shining-fair, a sort of white gold. It suited him, actually, better than the dark hair had; his skin no longer looked so startlingly pale. He must have dyed his hair to resemble the real

Sebastian Verlac, and this was what he really looked like. A sour, roiling wave of hatred coursed through Jace, and it was all he could do to stay hidden behind the rock and not lunge forward to wrap his hands around Sebastian s throat.
Hugo cawed again and swooped down to land on Valen tine s shoulder. An odd pang went through
Jace, seeing the raven in the posture that had become so familiar to him over the years hed known Hodge.
Hugo had practically lived on the

tutors shoulder, and seeing him on
Valentines felt oddly foreign, even wrong, despite everything Hodge had done.
Valentine reached up and stroked the bird s glossy feathers, nodding as if the two of them were deep in conversation. Sebastian watched, his pale eyebrows arched. Any word from Alicante? he said as
Hugo lifted himself from Valentines shoulder and soared into the air again, his wings brushing the gemlike tips of the stalactites.

Nothing as comprehensible as I would like, Valentine said. The sound of his fathers voice, cool and unruffled as ever, went through Jace like an arrow. His hands twitched involuntarily and he pressed them hard against his sides, grateful for the bulk of the rock hiding him from view. One thing is certain. The
Clave is allying itself with Lucians force of Downworlders.
Sebastian frowned. But Malachi said Malachi has failed. Valentines jaw

was set.
To Jaces surprise Sebastian moved forward and put a hand on
Valentines
arm.
There
was something about that touch something intimate and confidentthat made
Jaces stomach feel as if it had been invaded by a nest of worms. No one touched Valentine like that. Even he would not have touched his father like that. Are you upset? Sebastian asked, and the same tone was in his voice, the same grotesque and peculiar assumption of closeness.

The Clave is further gone than I had thought. I knew the Lightwoods were corrupted beyond hope, and that sort of corruption is contagious.
Its why I tried to keep them from entering Idris. But for the rest to have so easily had their minds filled with Lucians poison, when he is not even Nephilim Valentines disgust was plain, but he didnt move away from Sebastian, Jace saw with growing disbelief, didnt move to brush the boys hand from his shoulder. I am disappointed. I

thought they would see reason. I would have preferred not to end things this way.
Sebastian looked amused. I dont agree, he said. Think of them, ready to do battle, riding out to glory, only to find that none of it matters. That their gesture is futile. Think of the looks on their faces. His mouth stretched into a grin.
Jonathan. Valentine sighed. This is ugly necessity, nothing to take delight in.
Jonathan? Jace clutched at the

rock, his hands suddenly slippery.
Why
would
Valentine
call
Sebastian by his name? Was it a mistake? But Sebastian didnt look surprised. Isnt it better if I enjoy what Im doing? Sebastian said. I certainly enjoyed myself in Alicante. The
Lightwoods were better company than you led me to believe, especially that Isabelle. We certainly parted on a high note. And as for Clary
Just hearing Sebastian say Clarys

name made Jaces heart skip a sudden, painful beat.
She wasnt at all like I thought shed be, Sebastian went on petulantly.
She wasn t anything like me.
There is no one else in the world like you, Jonathan. And as for
Clary, she has always been exactly like her mother.
She wont admit what she really wants, Sebastian said. Not yet. But she ll come around.
Valentine raised an eyebrow. What do you mean, come around?

Sebastian grinned, a grin that filled
Jace with an almost uncontrollable rage. He bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood. Oh, you know,
Sebastian said. To our side. I cant wait. Tricking her was the most fun
I ve had in ages.
You werent supposed to be having fun. You were supposed to be finding out what it was she was looking for. And when she did find itwithout you, I might addyou let her give it to a warlock. And then you failed to bring her with you when

you left, despite the threat she poses to us. Not exactly a glorious success, Jonathan.
I tried to bring her. They wouldnt let her out of their sight, and I couldnt exactly kidnap her in the middle of the Accords Hall.
Sebastian sounded sulky. Besides, I told you, she doesnt have any idea how to use that rune power of hers.
She s too naive to pose any danger
Whatever the Clave is planning now, shes at the center of it,
Valentine said. Hugin says as much.

He saw her there on the dais in the
Accords Hall. If she can show the
Clave her power
Jace felt a flash of fear for Clary, mixed with an odd sort of prideof course she was at the center of things. That was his Clary.
Then theyll fight, said Sebastian.
Which is what we want, isnt it?
Clary doesnt matter. Its the battle that matters.
You underestimate her, I think,
Valentine said quietly.
I was watching her, said Sebastian.

If her power was as unlimited as you seem to think, she could have used it to get her little vampire friend out of his prisonor save that fool Hodge when he was dying
Power doesnt have to be unlimited to be deadly, Valentine said. And as for Hodge, perhaps you might show a bit more reserve regarding his death, since youre the one who killed him.
He was about to tell them about the
Angel. I had to.
Yo u wanted to. You always do.

Valentine took a pair of heavy leather gloves from his pocket and drew them on slowly. Perhaps he would have told them. Perhaps not.
All those years he looked after Jace in the Institute and must have wondered what it was he was raising. Hodge was one of the few who knew there was more than one boy. I knew he wouldnt betray mehe was too much of a coward for that.
He flexed his fingers inside the gloves, frowning.
More than one boy? What was

Valentine talking about?
Sebastian dismissed Hodge with a wave of his hand. Who cares what he thought? Hes dead, and good riddance. His eyes gleamed blackly.
Are you going to the lake now?
Yes. Youre clear on what must be done? Valentine jerked his chin toward the sword at Sebastians waist. Use that. Its not the Mortal
Sword, but its alliance is sufficiently demonic for this purpose. I cant go to the lake with you?

Sebastians voice had taken on a distinct whining tone. Cant we just release the army now?
Its not midnight yet. I said I would give them until midnight. They may yet change their minds.
They re not going to
I gave my word. Ill stand by it.
Valentines tone was final. If you hear nothing from Malachi by midnight, open the gate. Seeing
Sebastians hesitation, Valentine looked impatient. I need you to do this, Jonathan. I cant wait here for

midnight; itll take me nearly an hour to get to the lake through the tunnels, and I have no intention of letting the battle drag on very long. Future generations must know how quickly the Clave lost, and how decisive our victory was.
Its just that Ill be sorry to miss the summoning. Id like to be there when you do it. Sebastians look was wistful, but there was something calculated beneath it, something sneering and grasping and planning and strangely, deliberatelycold. Not

that Valentine seemed bothered.
To Jaces bafflement, Valentine touched the side of Sebastians face, a quick, undisguisedly affectionate gesture, before turning away and moving toward the far end of the cavern, where thick clots of shadows gathered. He paused there, a pale figure against the darkness.
Jonathan, he called back, and Jace glanced up, unable to help himself.
You will look upon the Angels face someday. After all, you will inherit the Mortal Instruments once I am

gone. Perhaps one day you, too, will summon Raziel.
Id like that, Sebastian said, and stood very still as Valentine, with a final nod, disappeared into the darkness. Sebastians voice dropped to a half whisper. Id like it very much, he snarled. Id like to spit in his bastard face. He whirled, his face a white mask in the dim light.
You might as well come out, Jace, he said. I know you re here.
Jace frozebut only for a second. His body moved before his mind had

time to catch up, catapulting him to his feet. He ran for the tunnel entrance, thinking only of making it outside, of getting a message, somehow, to Luke.
But the entrance was blocked.
Sebastian
stood there, his expression cool and gloating, his arms outstretched, his fingers almost touching the tunnel walls.
Really, he said, you didnt actually think you were faster than me, did you? Jace skidded to a halt. His heart

beat unevenly in his chest, like a broken metronome, but his voice was steady. Since I m better than you in every other conceivable way, it did stand to reason.
Sebastian just smiled. I could hear your heart beating, he said softly.
When you were watching me with
Valentine. Did it bother you?
That you seem to be dating my dad?
Jace shrugged. Youre a little young for him, to be honest.
What? For the first time since Jace had met him, Sebastian seemed

flabbergasted. Jace was able to enjoy it for only a moment, though, before Sebastians composure returned. But there was a dark glint in his eye that indicated he hadnt forgiven Jace for making him lose his calm. I wondered about you sometimes, Sebastian went on, in the same soft voice. There seemed to be something to you, on occasion, something behind those yellow eyes of yours. A flash of intelligence, unlike the rest of your mud-stupid adoptive family. But I suppose it

was only a pose, an attitude. Youre as foolish as the rest, despite your decade of good upbringing.
What do you know about my upbringing? More than you might think.
Sebastian lowered his hands. The same man who brought you up, brought me up. Only he didnt tire of me after the first ten years.
What do you mean? Jaces voice came out in a whisper, and then, as he stared at Sebastians unmoving, unsmiling face, he seemed to see the

other boy as if for the first timethe white hair, the black anthracite eyes, the hard lines of his face, like something chiseled out of stoneand he saw in his mind the face of his father as the angel had showed it to him, young and sharp and alert and hungry, and he knew. You, he said.
Valentines your father. Youre my brother. But Sebastian was no longer standing in front of him; he was suddenly behind him, and his arms were around Jaces shoulders as if

he meant to embrace him, but his hands were clenched into fists. Hail and farewell, my brother, he spat, and then his arms jerked up and tightened, cutting off Jace s breath.

Clary was exhausted. A dull, pounding headache, the aftereffect of drawing the Alliance rune, had taken up residence in her frontal lobe. It felt like someone trying to

kick a door down from the wrong side. Are you all right? Jocelyn put her hand on Clarys shoulder. You look like you aren t feeling well.
Clary glanced downand saw the spidering black rune that crossed the back of her mothers hand, the twin of the one on Lukes palm. Her stomach tightened. She was managing to deal with the fact that within a few hours her mother might actually be fighting an army of demonsbut only by willfully

pushing down the thought every time it surfaced.
Im just wondering where Simon is.
Clary rose to her feet. Im going to go get him.
Down there? Jocelyn gazed worriedly down at the crowd. It was thinning out now, Clary noted, as those who had been Marked flooded out the front doors into the square outside. Malachi stood by the doors, his bronze face impassive as he directed
Downworlders and Shadowhunters

where to go.
Ill be fine. Clary edged past her mother and Luke toward the dais steps. I ll be right back.
People turned to stare as she descended the steps and slipped into the crowd. She could feel the eyes on her, the weight of the staring. She scanned the crowd, looking for the Lightwoods or
Simon, but saw nobody she knewand it was hard enough seeing anything over the throng, considering how short she was.

With a sigh Clary slipped away toward the west side of the Hall, where the crowd was thinner.
The moment she neared the tall line of marble pillars, a hand shot out from between two of them and pulled her sideways. Clary had time to gasp in surprise, and then she was standing in the darkness behind the largest of the pillars, her back against the cold marble wall,
Simons hands gripping her arms.
Don t scream, okay? Its just me, he said. Of course Im not going to scream.
Dont be ridiculous. Clary glanced from side to side, wondering what was going onshe could see only bits and pieces of the larger Hall, in between the pillars. But whats with the James Bond spy stuff? I was coming to find you anyway.
I know. Ive been waiting for you to come down off the dais. I wanted to talk to you where no one else could hear us. He licked his lips nervously. I heard what Raphael said. What he wanted.

Oh, Simon. Clarys shoulders sagged. Look, nothing happened.
Luke sent him away
Maybe he shouldnt have, Simon said. Maybe he should have given
Raphael what he wanted.
She blinked at him. You mean you?
Don t be stupid. There s no way
There is a way. His grip on her arms tightened. I want to do this. I want Luke to tell Raphael that the deal is on. Or I ll tell him myself.
I know what youre doing, Clary protested. And I respect it and I

admire you for it, but you dont have to do it, Simon, you dont have to.
What Raphaels asking for is wrong, and nobody will judge you for not sacrificing yourself for a war that isn t yours to fight
But thats just it, Simon said. What
Raphael said was right. I am a vampire, and you keep forgetting it.
Or maybe you just want to forget.
But Im a Downworlder and youre a
Shadowhunter, and this fight is both of ours.
But you re not like them

I am one of them. He spoke slowly, deliberately, as if to make absolutely sure that she understood every word he was saying. And I always will be. If the Downworlders fight this war with the Shadowhunters, without the participation of Raphaels people, then there will be no Council seat for the Night Children. They wont be a part of the world Lukes trying to create, a world where
Shadowhunters and Downworlders work together. Are together. The

vampires will be shut out of that.
Theyll be the enemies of the
Shadowhunters. I ll be your enemy.
I could never be your enemy.
It would kill me, Simon said simply. But I cant help anything by standing back and pretending Im not part of this. And Im not asking your permission. I would like your help.
But if you wont give it to me, Ill get
Maia to take me to the vampire camp anyway, and Ill give myself up to Raphael. Do you understand?
She stared at him. He was holding

her arms so tightly she could feel the blood beating in the skin under his hands. She ran her tongue over her dry lips; her mouth tasted bitter.
What can I do, she whispered, to help you?
She looked up at him incredulously as he told her. She was already shaking her head before he finished, her hair whipping back and forth, nearly covering her eyes. No, she said, thats a crazy idea, Simon. Its not a gift; it s a punishment
Maybe not for me, Simon said. He

glanced toward the crowd, and
Clary saw Maia standing there, watching them, her expression openly curious. She was clearly waiting for Simon. Too fast, Clary thought. This is all happening much too fast.
Its better than the alternative, Clary.
No
It might not hurt me at all. I mean,
Ive already been punished, right? I already cant go into a church, a synagogue, I cant sayI cant say holy names, I cant get older, Im already

shut out from normal life. Maybe this won t change anything.
But maybe it will.
He let go of her arms, slid his hand around her side, and drew Patricks stele from her belt. He held it out to her. Clary, he said. Do this for me.
Please.
She took the stele with numb fingers and raised it, touching the end of it to Simons skin, just above his eyes.
The first Mark, Magnus had said.
The very first. She thought of it, and her stele began to move the way a

dancer begins to move when the music starts. Black lines traced themselves across his forehead like a flower unfolding on a speeded-up roll of film. When she was done, her right hand ached and stung, but as she drew back and stared, she knew she had drawn something perfect and strange and ancient, something from the very beginning of history. It blazed like a star above Simons eyes as he brushed his fingers across his forehead, his expression dazzled and confused.

I can feel it, he said. Like a burn.
I dont know whatll happen, she whispered. I dont know what longterm side effects it ll have.
With a twisted half smile, he raised his hand to touch her cheek. Lets hope we get the chance to find out.

19

PENIEL

Maia was silent most of the way to the forest, keeping her head down and glancing from side to side only occasionally, her nose wrinkled in concentration. Simon wondered if she was smelling their way, and he decided that although that might be a little weird, it certainly counted as a useful talent.
He also found that he didnt have to hurry to keep up with her, no matter how fast she moved. Even when they reached the beaten-down path that led into the forest and Maia

started to runswiftly, quietly, and staying low to the groundhe had no trouble matching her pace. It was one thing about being a vampire that he could honestly say he enjoyed.
It was over too soon; the woods thickened and they were running among the trees, over scuffed, thickrooted ground dense with fallen leaves. The branches overhead made lacelike patterns against the starlit sky. They emerged from the trees in a clearing strewn with large boulders that gleamed like square

white teeth. There were heaped piles of leaves here and there, as if someone had been over the place with a gigantic rake.
Raphael! Maia had cupped her hands around her mouth and was calling out in a voice loud enough to startle the birds out of the treetops high overhead. Raphael, show yourself! Silence. Then the shadows rustled; there was a soft pattering sound, like rain hitting a tin roof. The piled leaves on the ground blew up into

the air in tiny cyclones. Simon heard Maia cough; she had her hands up, as if to brush the leaves away from her face, her eyes.
As suddenly as the wind had come up, it settled. Raphael stood there, only a few feet from Simon.
Surrounding him was a group of vampires, pale and still as trees in the moonlight. Their expressions were cold, stripped down to a bare hostility. He recognized some of them from the Hotel Dumort: the petite Lily and the blond Jacob, his

eyes as narrow as knives. But just as many of them he had never seen before. Raphael stepped forward. His skin was sallow, his eyes ringed with black shadow, but he smiled when he saw Simon.
Daylighter, he breathed. You came.
I came, Simon said. Im here, soits done. Its far from done, Daylighter.
Raphael looked toward Maia.
Lycanthrope, he said. Return to your pack leader and thank him for

changing his mind. Tell him that the
Night Children will fight beside his people on Brocelind Plain.
Maias face was tight. Luke didnt change Simon interrupted her hastily. Its fine, Maia. Go.
Her eyes were luminous and sad.
Simon, think, she said. You dont have to do this.
Yes, I do. His tone was firm. Maia, thank you so much for bringing me here. Now go.
Simon

He dropped his voice. If you don t go, theyll kill us both, and all this will have been for nothing. Go.
Please.
She nodded and turned away,
Changing as she turned, so that one moment she was a slight human girl, her bead-tied braids bouncing on her shoulders, and the next she had hit the ground running on all fours, a swift and silent wolf. She darted from the clearing and vanished into the shadows.
Simon turned back to the

vampiresand almost shouted out loud; Raphael was standing directly in front of him, inches away. Up close his skin bore the telltale dark traceries of hunger. Simon thought of that night in the Hotel
Dumortfaces appearing out of shadow, fleeting laughter, the smell of blood and shivered.
Raphael reached out to Simon and took hold of his shoulders, the grip of his deceptively slight hands like iron. Turn your head, he said, and look at the stars; it will be easier

that way.
So you are going to kill me, Simon said. To his surprise he didnt feel afraid, or even particularly agitated; everything seemed to have slowed down to a perfect clarity. He was simultaneously aware of every leaf on the branches above him, every tiny pebble on the ground, every pair of eyes that rested on him.
What did you think? Raphael saida little sadly, Simon thought. Its not personal, I assure you. Its as I said before you are too dangerous to be

allowed to continue as you are. If I had known what you d become
Youd never have let me crawl out of that grave. I know, said Simon.
Raphael met his eyes. Everyone does what they must to survive. In that way even we are just like humans. His needle teeth slid from their sheaths like delicate razors.
Hold still, he said. This will be quick. He leaned forward.
Wait, Simon said, and when
Raphael drew back with a scowl, he said it again, with more force:

Wait. Theres something I have to show you.
Raphael made a low hissing sound.
You had better be doing more than trying to delay me, Daylighter.
I am. Theres something I thought you should see. Simon reached up and brushed the hair back from his forehead. It felt like a foolish, even theatrical, gesture, but as he did it, he saw Clarys desperate white face as she stared up at him, the stele in her hand, and thought, Well, for her sake, at least I ve tried.

The effect on Raphael was both startling and instantaneous. He jerked back as if Simon had brandished a crucifix at him, his eyes widening. Daylighter, he spat,
who did this to you?
Simon only stared. He wasnt sure what reaction hed expected, but it hadn t been this one.
Clary, Raphael said, answering his own inquiry, of course. Only a power like hers would allow thisa vampire, Marked, and with a Mark like that one

A Mark like what? said Jacob, the slender blond boy standing just behind Raphael. The rest of the vampires were staring as well, with expressions that mingled confusion and a grow ing fear. Anything that frightened Raphael, Simon thought, was sure to frighten them, too.
This Mark, Raphael said, still looking only at Simon, is not one of those from the Gray Book. It is an even older Mark than that. One of the ancients, drawn by the Makers own hand. He made as if to touch

Simons forehead but didnt seem quite able to bring himself to do it; his hand hovered for a moment, then fell to his side. Such Marks are mentioned, but I have never seen one. And this one
Simon said, Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the
Lord set a Mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. You c a n try to kill me, Raphael. But I wouldn t advise it.
The Mark of Cain? Jacob said in

disbelief. This Mark on you is the
Mark of Cain?
Kill him, said a redheaded female vampire who stood close to Jacob.
She
spoke with a heavy accentRussian, Simon thought, though he wasnt sure. Kill him anyway. Raphaels expression was a mix of fury and disbelief. I will not, he said. Any harm done to him will rebound upon the doer sevenfold.
That is the nature of the Mark. Of course, if any of you would like to

be the one to take that risk, by all means, be my guest.
No one spoke or moved.
I thought not, said Raphael. His eyes raked Simon. Like the evil queen in the fairy tale, Lucian
Graymark has sent me a poisoned apple. I suppose he hoped I would harm you, and reap the punishment that would follow.
No, Simon said hastily. NoLuke didnt even know what Id done. His gesture was made in good faith.
You have to honor it.

And so you chose this? For the first time there was something other than contempt, Simon thought, in the way
Raphael was looking at him. This is no simple protection spell,
Daylighter. Do you know what
Cains punishment was? He spoke softly, as if sharing a secret with
Simon. And now thou art cursed from the earth. A fugitive and a wanderer shalt thou be.
Then, Simon said, Ill wander, if thats what it comes to. Ill do what I have to do.

All this, said Raphael, all this for
Nephilim.
Not just for Nephilim, said Simon.
Im doing this for you, too. Even if you dont want it. He raised his voice so that the silent vampires surrounding them could hear him.
You were worried that if other vampires knew what had happened to me, theyd think Shadowhunter blood could let them walk in the daylight too. But thats not why I have this power. It was something
Valentine did. An experiment. He

caused this, not Jace. And it isnt replicable. It wont ever happen again. I imagine he is telling the truth, said
Jacob, to Simons surprise. Ive certainly known one or two of the
Night Children whove had a taste of
Shadowhunter in the past. None of them developed a fondness for sunlight. It was one thing to refuse to help the
Shadowhunters before, said Simon, turning back to Raphael, but now, now that theyve sent me to you He

let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, unfinished.
Dont try to blackmail me,
Daylighter, said Raphael. Once the
Night Children have made a bargain, they honor it, no matter how badly they are dealt with. He smiled slightly, needle teeth gleaming in the dark. There is just one thing, he said. One last act I require from you to prove that indeed you acted here in good faith.
The stress he put on the last two words was weighted with cold.

What s that? Simon asked.
We will not be the only vampires to fight in Lucian Graymarks battle,
Raphael said. So will you.

Jace opened his eyes on a silver whirlpool. His mouth was filled with bitter liquid. He coughed, wondering for a moment if he was drowningbut if so, it was on dry land. He was sitting upright with his

back against a stalagmite, and his hands were bound behind him. He coughed again and salt filled his mouth. He wasnt drowning, he realized, just choking on blood.
Awake, little brother? Sebastian knelt in front of him, a length of rope in his hands, his grin like an unsheathed knife. Good. I was afraid for a moment that Id killed you a bit too early.
Jace turned his head to the side and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. His head felt as if a balloon

were being inflated inside it, pressing against the interior of his skull. The silvery whirling above his head slowed and stilled to the bright pattern of stars visible through the hole in the cave roof.
Waiting for a special occasion to kill me? Christmas is coming.
Sebastian gave Jace a thoughtful look. You have a smart mouth. You didnt learn that from Valentine.
What did you learn from him? It doesnt seem to me that he taught you much about fighting, either. He

leaned closer. You know what he gave me for my ninth birthday? A lesson. He taught me that theres a place on a mans back where, if you sink a blade in, you can pierce his heart and sever his spine, all at once. What did you get for your ninth birthday, little angel boy? A cookie? Ninth birthday? Jace swallowed hard. So tell me, what hole was he keeping you in while I was growing up? Because I dont remember seeing you around the manor.

I grew up in this valley. Sebastian jerked his chin toward the cave exit.
I dont remember seeing you around here either, come to think of it.
Although I knew about you. I bet you didn t know about me.
Jace shook his head. Valentine wasnt much given to bragging about you. I can t imagine why.
Sebastians eyes flashed. It was easy to see, now, the resemblance to
Valentine: the same unusual combination of silver-white hair and black eyes, the same fine bones

that in another, less strongly molded face would have looked delicate. I knew all about you, he said. But you dont know anything, do you?
Sebastian got to his feet. I wanted you alive to watch this, little brother, he said. So watch, and watch carefully. With a movement so fast it was almost invisible, he drew the sword from its sheath at his waist. It had a silver hilt, and like the Mortal Sword it glowed with a dull dark light. A pattern of stars was etched into the surface of

the black blade; it caught the true starlight as Sebastian turned the blade, and burned like fire.
Jace held his breath. He wondered if Sebastian merely meant to kill him; but no, Sebastian would have killed him already, while he was unconscious, if that were his intention. Jace watched as
Sebastian moved toward the center of the chamber, the sword held lightly in his hand, though it looked to be quite heavy. His mind was whirling. How could Valentine

have another son? Who was his mother? Someone else in the
Circle? Was he older or younger than Jace?
Sebastian had reached the huge redtinged stalagmite in the center of the room. It seemed to pulse as he approached, and the smoke inside it swirled faster. Sebastian halfclosed his eyes and lifted the blade.
He said somethinga word in a harsh-sounding demon languageand brought the sword across, hard and fast, in a slicing arc.

The top of the stalagmite sheared away. Inside, it was hollow as a test tube, filled with a mass of black and red smoke, which swirled upward like gas escaping a punctured balloon. There was a roarless a sound than a sort of explosive pressure. Jace felt his ears pop. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He wanted to claw at the neck of his shirt, but he couldnt move his hands: They were tied too tightly behind him.
Sebastian was half-hidden behind

the pouring column of red and black. It was coiling, swirling upwardWatch! he cried, his face glowing. His eyes were alight, his white hair whipping on the rising wind, and Jace wondered if his father had looked like that when he was young: terrible and yet somehow fascinating. Watch and behold Valentine s army!
His voice was drowned out then by the sound. It was a sound like the tide crashing up the shore, the breaking of an enormous wave,

carrying massive detritus with it, the smashed bones of whole cities, the onrush of a great and evil power. A huge column of twisting, rushing, flapping blackness poured from the smashed stalagmite, funneling up through the air, pouring towardand throughthe torn gap in the cavern roof. Demons. They rose shrieking, howling, and snarling, a boiling mass of claws and talons and teeth and burning eyes. Jace recalled lying on the deck of
Valentines ship as the sky and earth

and sea all around turned to nightmare; this was worse. It was as if the earth had torn open and hell had poured through. The demons carried a stench like a thousand rotting corpses. Jaces hands twisted against each other, twisted until the ropes cut into his wrists and they bled. A sour taste rose in his mouth, and he choked helplessly on blood and bile as the last of the demons rose and vanished overhead, a dark flood of horror, blotting out the stars. Jace thought he might have passed out for a minute or two. Certainly there was a period of blackness during which the shrieking and howling overhead faded and he seemed to hang in space, pinned between the earth and the sky, feeling a sense of detachment that was somehow peaceful.
It was over too soon. Suddenly he was slammed back into his body, his wrists in agony, his shoulders straining backward, the stench of demon so heavy in the air that he

turned his head aside and retched helplessly onto the ground. He heard a dry chuckle and looked up, swallowing hard against the acid in his throat. Sebastian knelt over him, his legs straddling Jaces, his eyes shining. Its all right, little brother, he said. They re gone.
Jaces eyes were streaming, his throat scraped raw. His voice came out a croak. He said midnight.
Valentine said to open the gate at midnight. It can t be midnight yet.
I always figure its better to ask for

forgiveness than permission in these sorts of situations. Sebastian glanced up at the now empty sky. It should take them five minutes to reach Brocelind Plain from here, quite a bit less time than it will
Father to reach the lake. I want to see some Nephilim blood spilled. I want them to writhe and die on the ground. They deserve shame before they get oblivion.
Do you really think that Nephilim have so little chance against demons? Its not as if theyre

unprepared
Sebastian dismissed him with a flick of his wrist. I thought you were listening to us. Didn t you understand the plan? Dont you know what my father s going to do?
Jace said nothing.
It was good of you, said Sebastian, to lead me to Hodge that night. If he hadnt revealed that the Mirror we sought was Lake Lyn, Im not sure this night would have been possible. Because anyone who bears the first two Mortal

Instruments and stands before the
Mortal Glass can summon the Angel
Raziel out of it, just as Jonathan
Shadowhunter did a thousand years ago. And once youve summoned the
Angel, you can demand of him one thing. One task. One favor.
A favor? Jace felt cold all over.
And Valentine is going to demand the defeat of the Shadowhunters at
Brocelind?
Sebastian stood up. That would be a waste, he said. No. Hes going to demand that all Shadowhunters who

have not drunk from the Mortal
Cupall those who are not his followersbe stripped of their powers. They will no longer be
Nephilim. And as such, bearing the
Marks they do He smiled. They will become Forsaken, easy prey for the demons, and those Downworlders who have not fled will be quickly eradicated. Jaces ears were ringing with a harsh, tinny sound. He felt dizzy.
Even Valentine, he said, even
Valentine would never do that

Please, said Sebastian. Do you really think my father wont go through with what he s planned?
Our father, Jace said.
Sebastian glanced down at him. His hair was a white halo; he looked like the sort of bad angel who might have followed Lucifer out of heaven. Pardon me, he said, with some amusement. Are you praying?
No. I said our father. I meant
Valentine. Not your father. Ours.
For a moment Sebastian was expressionless; then his mouth

quirked up at the corner, and he grinned. Little angel boy, he said.
Youre a fool, arent youjust like my father always said.
Why do you keep calling me that?
Jace demanded. Why are you blathering about angels
God, said Sebastian, you dont know anything, do you? Did my father ever say a word to you that wasnt a lie? Jace shook his head. Hed been pulling at the ropes binding his wrists, but every time he jerked at

them, they seemed to get tighter. He could feel the pounding of his pulse in each of his fingers. How do you know he wasn t lying to you?
Because I am his blood. I am just like him. When hes gone, Ill rule the
Clave after him.
I wouldnt brag about being just like him if I were you.
Theres that, too. Sebastians voice was emotionless. I dont pretend to be anything other than I am. I dont behave as if Im horrified that my father does what he needs to do to

save his people, even if they dont wantor, if you ask me, deservesaving. Who would you rather have for a son, a boy whos proud that youre his father or one who cowers from you in shame and fear? Im not afraid of Valentine, said
Jace.
You shouldnt be, said Sebastian.
You should be afraid of me.
There was something in his voice that made Jace abandon his struggle against the bindings and look up.

Sebastian was still holding his blackly gleaming sword. It was a dark, beautiful thing, Jace thought, even when Sebastian lowered the point of it so that it rested above
Jaces collarbone, just nicking his
Adam s apple.
Jace struggled to keep his voice steady. So now what? Youre going to kill me while Im tied up? Does the thought of fighting me scare you that much?
Nothing, not a flicker of emotion, passed across Sebastians pale face.

You, he said, are not a threat to me.
You re a pest. An annoyance.
Then why wont you untie my hands?
Sebastian, utterly still, stared at him. He looked like a statue, Jace thought, like the statue of some long-dead princesomeone whod died young and spoiled. And that was the difference between
Sebastian and Valentine; though they shared the same cold marble looks, Sebastian had an air about him of something ruinedsomething eaten away from the inside. Im not a

fool, Sebastian said, and you cant bait me. I left you alive only long enough so that you could see the demons. When you die now, and return to your angel ancestors, you can tell them there is no place for them in this world anymore. Theyve failed the Clave, and the Clave no longer needs them. We have
Valentine now.
Youre killing me because you want me to give a message to God for you? Jace shook his head, the point of the blade scraping across his

throat. You re crazier than I thought.
Sebastian just smiled and pushed the blade in slightly deeper; when
Jace swallowed, he could feel the point of it denting his windpipe. If you have any real prayers, little brother, say them now.
I dont have any prayers, said Jace. I have a message, though. For our father. Will you give it to him?
Of course, Sebastian said smoothly, but there was something in the way he said it, a flicker of hesitation before he spoke, that confirmed

what Jace was already thinking.
Youre lying, he said. You wont give him the message, because youre not going to tell him what youve done.
He never asked you to kill me, and he won t be happy when he finds out.
Nonsense. You re nothing to him.
You think hell never know what happened to me if you kill me now, here. You can tell him I died in the battle, or hell just assume thats what happened. But youre wrong if you think he wont know. Valentine always knows.

You dont know what youre talking about, Sebastian said, but his face had tightened.
Jace kept talking, pressing home his advantage. You cant hide what youre doing, though. Theres a witness. A witness? Sebastian looked almost surprised, which Jace counted as something of a victory. What are you talking about?
The raven, Jace said. Hes been watching from the shadows. Hell tell Valentine everything.

Hugin? Sebastians gaze snapped up, and though the raven was nowhere to be seen, Sebastians face when he glanced back down at Jace was full of doubt.
If Valentine knows you murdered me while I was tied up and helpless, he ll be disgusted with you,
Jace said, and he heard his own voice drop into his fathers cadences, the way Valentine spoke when he wanted something: soft and persuasive. Hell call you a coward.
He ll never forgive you.

Sebastian said nothing. He was staring down at Jace, his lips twitching, and hatred boiled behind his eyes like poison.
Untie me, Jace said softly. Untie me and fight me. It s the only way.
Sebastians lip twitched again, hard, and this time Jace thought he had gone too far. Sebastian drew the sword back and raised it, and the moonlight burst off it in a thousand silver shards, silver as the stars, silver as the color of his hair. He bared his teethand the swords

whistling breath cut the night air with a scream as he brought it down in a whirling arc.

Clary sat on the steps of the dais in the Hall of Accords, holding the stele in her hands. She had never felt quite so alone. The Hall was utterly, totally empty. Clary had looked everywhere for Isabelle once the fighters had all passed

through the Portal, but she hadnt been able to find her. Aline had told her that Isabelle was probably back at the Penhallows house, where
Aline and a few other teenagers were meant to be looking after at least a dozen children under fighting age. Shed tried to get Clary to go there with her, but Clary had declined. If she couldnt find
Isabelle, shed rather be alone than with near strangers. Or so shed thought. But sitting here, she found the silence and the emptiness

becoming more and more oppressive. Still, she hadnt moved.
She was trying as hard as she could not to think of Jace, not to think of
Simon, not to think of her mother or
Luke or Alecand the only way not to think, she had found, was to remain motionless and to stare at a single square of marble on the floor instead, counting the cracks in it, over and over.
There were six. One, two, three.
Four, five, six. She finished the count and started again, from the

beginning. One
The sky overhead exploded.
Or at least that was what it sounded like. Clary threw her head back and stared upward, through the clear roof of the Hall. The sky had been dark a moment ago; now it was a roiling mass of flame and blackness, shot through with an ugly orange light. Things moved against that lighthideous things she didnt want to see, things that made her grateful to the darkness for obscuring her view. The occasional

glimpse was bad enough.
The transparent skylight overhead rippled and bent as the demon host passed, as if it were being warped by tremendous heat. At last there was a sound like a gunshot, and a huge crack appeared in the glass, spiderwebbing out into countless fissures. Clary ducked, covering her head with her hands, as glass rained down around her like tears.

They were almost to the battlefield when the sound came, ripping the night in half. One moment the woods were as silent as they were dark. The next moment the sky was lit with a hellish orange glow.
Simon staggered and nearly fell; he caught at a tree trunk to steady himself and looked up, barely able to believe what he was seeing. All around him the other vampires were staring up at the sky, their white faces like night-blooming flowers,

lifting to catch the moonlight as nightmare after nightmare streaked across the sky.

You keep passing out on me,
Sebastian said. Its extremely tedious. Jace opened his eyes. Pain lanced through his head. He put his hand up to touch the side of his faceand realized his hands were no longer

tied behind him. A length of rope trailed from his wrist. His hand came away from his face black blood, dark in the moonlight.
He stared around him. They were no longer in the cavern: He was lying on soft dirt and grass on the valley floor, not far from the stone house. He could hear the sound of the water in the creek, clearly close by. Knotted tree branches overhead blocked some of the moonlight, but it was still fairly bright.
Get up, Sebastian said. You have

five seconds before I kill you where you are.
Jace stood as slowly as he thought he could get away with. He was still a little dizzy. Fighting for balance, he dug the heels of his boots into the soft dirt, trying to give himself some stability. Why did you bring me out here?
Two reasons, Sebastian said. One, I enjoyed knocking you out. Two, it would be bad for either of us to get blood on the floor of that cavern.
Trust me. And I intend to spill

plenty of your blood.
Jace felt at his belt, and his heart sank. Either hed dropped most of his weapons while Sebastian was dragging him through the tunnels, or, more likely, Sebastian had thrown them away. All he had left was a dagger. It was a short bladetoo short, no match for the sword.
Not much of a weapon, that.
Sebastian grinned, white in the moon-dazzled darkness.
I cant fight with this, Jace said, trying to sound as quavering and

nervous as he could.
What a shame. Sebastian came closer to Jace, grinning. He was holding his sword loosely, theatrically unconcerned, the tips of his fingers beating a light rhythm on the hilt. If there was ever going to be an opening for him, Jace thought, this was probably it. He swung his arm back and punched Sebastian as hard as he could in the face.
Bone crunched under his knuckles.
The blow sent Sebastian sprawling.
He skidded backward in the dirt,

the sword flying from his grip. Jace caught it up as he darted forward, and a second later was standing over Sebastian, blade in hand.
Sebastians nose was bleeding, the blood a scarlet streak across his face. He reached up and pulled his collar aside, baring his pale throat.
So go ahead, he said. Kill me already. Jace hesitated. He didnt want to hesitate, but there it was: an annoying reluctance to kill anyone lying helpless on the ground in front

of him. Jace remembered Valentine taunting him, back at Renwicks, daring his son to kill him, and Jace hadnt been able to do it. But
Sebastian was a murderer. Hed killed Max and Hodge.
He raised the sword.
And Sebastian erupted off the ground, faster than the eye could follow. He seemed to fly into the air, performing an elegant backflip and landing gracefully on the grass barely a foot away. As he did, he kicked out, striking Jaces hand. The

kick sent the sword spinning out of
Jaces grasp. Sebastian caught it out of the air, laughing, and slashed out with the blade, whipping it toward
Jaces heart. Jace leaped backward and the blade split the air just in front of him, slicing his shirt open down the front. There was a stinging pain and Jace felt blood welling from a shallow slice across his chest.
Sebastian chuckled, advancing toward Jace, who backed up, fumbling his insufficient dagger out

of his belt as he went. He looked around, desperately hoping there was something else he could use as a weapona long stick, anything.
There was nothing around him but the grass, the river running by, and the trees above, spreading their thick branches overhead like a green net. Suddenly he remembered the Malachi Configuration the
Inquisitor had trapped him in.
Sebastian wasnt the only one who could jump.
Sebastian slashed the sword toward

him again, but Jace had already leapedstraight up into the air. The lowest tree branch was about twenty feet high; he caught at it, swinging himself up and over.
Kneeling on the branch, he saw
Sebastian, on the ground, spin around and look up. Jace flung the dagger and heard Sebastian shout.
Breathless, he straightened up
And Sebastian was suddenly on the branch beside him. His pale face was flushed angrily, his sword arm streaming blood. He had dropped

the sword, evidently, in the grass, though that merely made them even,
Jace thought, since his dagger was gone as well. He saw with some satisfaction that for the first time
Sebastian looked angryangry and surprised, as if a pet hed thought was tame had bitten him.
That was fun, Sebastian said. But now it s over.
He flung himself at Jace, catching him around the waist, knocking him off the branch. They fell twenty feet through the air clutched together,

tearing at each otherand hit the ground hard, hard enough that Jace saw stars behind his eyes. He grabbed for Sebastians injured arm and dug his fingers in; Sebastian yelled and backhanded Jace across the face. Jaces mouth filled with salty blood; he gagged on it as they rolled through the dirt together, slamming punches into each other.
He felt a sudden shock of icy cold; theyd rolled down the slight incline into the river and were lying half-in, half-out of the water. Sebastian

gasped, and Jace took the opportunity to grab for the other boys throat and close his hands around it, squeezing. Sebastian choked, seizing Jaces right wrist in his hand and jerking it backward, hard enough to snap the bones. Jace heard himself scream as if from a distance, and Sebastian pressed the advantage, twisting the broken wrist mercilessly until Jace let go of him and fell back in the cold, watery mud, his arm a howl of agony.
Half-kneeling on Jaces chest, one

knee digging hard into his ribs,
Sebastian grinned down at him. His eyes shone out white and black from a mask of dirt and blood. Something glittered in his right hand. Jaces dagger. He must have picked it up from the ground. Its point rested directly over Jace s heart.
And we find ourselves exactly where we were five minutes ago,
Sebastian said. Youve had your chance, Wayland. Any last words?
Jace stared up at him, his mouth streaming blood, his eyes stinging

with sweat, and felt only a sense of total and empty exhaustion. Was this really how he was going to die?
Wayland? he said. You know thats not my name.
You have as much of a claim to it as you have to the name of
Morgenstern, said Sebastian. He bent forward, leaning his weight onto the dagger. Its tip pierced
Jaces skin, sending a hot stab of pain through his body. Sebastians face was inches away, his voice a hissing whisper. Did you really

think you were Valentines son? Did you really think a whining, pathetic thing like yourself was worthy of being a Morgenstern, of being my brother? He tossed his white hair back: It was lank with sweat and creek water. Youre a changeling, he said. My father butchered a corpse to get you and make you one of his experiments. He tried to raise you as his own son, but you were too weak to be any good to him. You couldnt be a warrior. You were nothing. Useless. So he palmed you

off on the Lightwoods and hoped you might be of some use to him later, as a decoy. Or as bait. He never loved you.
Jace blinked his burning eyes. Then you I am Valentines son. Jonathan
Christopher Morgenstern. You never had any right to that name.
Youre a ghost. A pretender. His eyes were black and glinting, like the carapaces of dead insects, and suddenly Jace heard his mothers voice, as if in a dreambut she wasnt

his mothersaying Jonathans not a baby anymore. He isnt even human; he s a monster.
Youre the one, Jace choked. The one with the demon blood. Not me.
Thats right. The dagger slid another millimeter into Jaces flesh.
Sebastian was still grinning, but it was a rictus grin, like a skulls.
Youre the angel boy. I had to hear all about you. You with your pretty angel face and your pretty manners and your delicate, delicate feelings.
You couldnt even watch a bird die

without crying. No wonder
Valentine was ashamed of you.
No. Jace forgot the blood in his mouth, forgot the pain. Youre the one hes ashamed of. You think he wouldnt take you with him to the lake because he needed you to stay here and open the gate at midnight?
Like he didnt know you wouldnt be able to wait. He didnt take you with him because hes ashamed to stand up in front of the Angel and show him what hes done. Show him the thing he made. Show him you. Jace

gazed up at Sebastianhe could feel a terrible, triumphant pity blazing in his own eyes. He knows theres nothing human in you. Maybe he loves you, but he hates you too
Shut up! Sebastian pushed down on the dagger, twisting the hilt. Jace arched backward with a scream, and agony burst like lightning behind his eyes. Im going to die, he thought. Im dying. This is it. He wondered if his heart had already been pierced. He couldnt move, couldnt breathe. He knew now what

it must be like for a butterfly pinned to a board. He tried to speak, tried to say a name, but nothing came out of his mouth but more blood.
And yet Sebastian seemed to read his eyes. Clary. Id almost forgotten.
Youre in love with her, arent you?
The shame of your nasty incestuous impulses must nearly have killed you. Too bad you didnt know shes not really your sister. You could have spent the rest of your life with her, if only you werent so stupid.
He bent down, pushing the knife in

harder, its edge scraping bone. He spoke in Jaces ear, a voice as soft as a whisper. She loved you, too, he said. Keep that in mind while you die. Darkness flooded in from the edges of Jaces vision, like dye spilling onto a photograph, blotting out the image. Suddenly there was no pain at all. He felt nothing, not even
Sebastians weight on him, as if he were floating. Sebastians face drifted over him, white against the darkness, the dagger raised in his

hand. Something bright gold glittered at Sebastians wrist, as if he were wearing a bracelet. But it wasnt a bracelet, because it was moving. Sebastian looked toward his hand, surprised, as the dagger fell from his loosened grasp and struck the mud with an audible sound. Then the hand itself, separated from his wrist, thumped to the ground beside it.
Jace stared wonderingly as
Sebastians severed hand bounced

and came to rest against a pair of high black boots. The boots were attached to a pair of delicate legs, rising to a slender torso and a familiar face capped with a waterfall of black hair. Jace raised his eyes and saw Isabelle, her whip soaked with blood, her eyes fastened on Sebastian, who was staring at the bloody stump of his wrist with openmouthed amazement.
Isabelle smiled grimly. That was for Max, you bastard.
Bitch, Sebastian hissedand sprang

to his feet as Isabelles whip came slashing at him again with incredible speed. He ducked sideways and was gone. There was a rustlehe must have vanished into the trees, Jace thought, though it hurt too much to turn his head and look.
Jace! Isabelle knelt down over him, her stele shining in her left hand.
Her eyes were bright with tears; he must seem pretty bad, Jace realized, for Isabelle to look like that.
Isabelle, he tried to say. He wanted to tell her to go, to run, that no

matter how spectacular and brave and talented she wasand she was all those thingsshe was no match for
Sebastian. And there was no way that Sebastian was going to let a little thing like getting his hand sliced off stop him. But all that came out of Jaces mouth was a sort of gurgling noise.
Dont talk. He felt the tip of her stele burn against the skin of his chest.
Youll be fine. Isabelle smiled down at him tremulously. Youre probably wondering what the hell Im doing

here, she said. I dont know how much you knowI dont know what
Sebastians told youbut youre not
Valentines son. The iratze was close to finished; already Jace could feel the pain fading. He nodded slightly, trying to tell her: I know. Anyway, I wasnt going to come looking for you after you ran off, because you said in your note not to, and I got that. But there was no way I was going to let you die thinking you have demon blood, or without telling you that theres

nothing wrong with you, though honestly, how you could have thought anything so stupid in the first place Isabelles hand jerked, and she froze, not wanting to spoil the rune. And you needed to know that Clarys not your sister, she said, more gently. Becausebecause you just did. So I got Magnus to help me track you. I used that little wooden soldier you gave to Max. I dont think Magnus would have done it normally, but lets just say he was in an unusually good mood, and I may

have told him Alec wanted him to do italthough that wasnt strictly true, but itll be a while before he finds that out. And once I knew where you were, well, hed already set up that Portal, and Im very good at sneaking
Isabelle screamed. Jace tried to reach for her, but she was beyond his grasp, being lifted, flung to the side. Her whip fell from her hand.
She scrambled to her knees, but
Sebastian was already in front of her. His eyes blazed with rage, and

there was a bloody cloth tied around the stump of his wrist.
Isabelle darted for her whip, but
Sebastian moved faster. He spun and kicked out at her, hard. His booted foot connected with her rib cage. Jace almost thought he could hear Isabelles ribs crack as she flew backward, landing awkwardly on her side. He heard her cry outIsabelle, who never cried out in painas Sebastian kicked her again and then caught up her whip, brandishing it in his hand.

Jace rolled onto his side. The almost finished iratze had helped, but the pain in his chest was still bad, and he knew, in a detached sort of way, that the fact that he was coughing up blood probably meant that he had a punctured lung. He wasnt sure how long that gave him.
Minutes, probably. He scrabbled for the dagger where Sebastian had dropped it, next to the grisly remains of his hand. Jace staggered to his feet. The smell of blood was everywhere. He thought of Magnuss

vision, the world turned to blood, and his slippery hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger.
He took a step forward. Then another. Every step felt like he was dragging his feet through cement.
Isabelle was screaming curses at
Sebastian, who was laughing as he brought the whip down across her body. Her screams drew Jace forward like a fish caught on a hook, but they grew fainter as he moved. The world was spinning around him like a carnival ride.

One more step, Jace told himself.
One more. Sebastian had his back to him; he was concentrating on
Isabelle. He probably thought Jace was already dead. And he nearly was. One step, he told himself, but he couldnt do it, couldnt move, couldnt bring himself to drag his feet one more step forward.
Blackness was rushing in at the edges of his visiona more profound blackness than the darkness of sleep. A blackness that would erase everything he had ever seen and

bring him a rest that would be absolute. Peaceful. He thought, suddenly, of ClaryClary as he had last seen her, asleep, with her hair spread across the pillow and her cheek on her hand. He had thought then that he had never seen anything so peaceful in his life, but of course she had only been sleeping, like anyone else might sleep. It hadnt been her peace that had surprised him, but his own. The peace he felt at being with her was like nothing he had ever known before.

Pain jarred up his spine, and he realized with surprise that somehow, without any volition of his own, his legs had moved him forward that last crucial step.
Sebastian had his arm back, the whip shining in his hand; Isabelle lay on the grass, a crumpled heap, no longer screamingno longer moving at all. You little Lightwood bitch, Sebastian was saying. I should have smashed your face in with that hammer when I had the chance And Jace brought his hand up, with the dagger in it, and sank the blade into Sebastian s back.
Sebastian staggered forward, the whip falling out of his hand. He turned slowly and looked at Jace, and Jace thought, with a distant horror, that maybe Sebastian really wasnt human, that he was unkillable after all. Sebastians face was blank, the hostility gone from it, and the dark fire from his eyes. He no longer looked like Valentine, though. He looked scared.

He opened his mouth, as if he meant to say something to Jace, but his knees were already buckling. He crashed to the ground, the force of his fall sending him sliding down the incline and into the river. He came to rest on his back, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky; the water flowed around him, carrying dark threads of his blood downstream on the current.
He taught me theres a place on a mans back where, if you sink a blade in, you can pierce his heart

and sever his spine, all at once,
Sebastian had said. I guess we got the same birthday present that year, big brother, Jace thought.
Didn t we?
Jace! It was Isabelle, her face bloody, struggling into a sitting position. Jace!
He tried to turn toward her, tried to say something, but his words were gone. He slid to his knees. A heavy weight was pressing on his shoulders, and the earth was calling him: down, down, down. He was

barely aware of Isabelle crying his name as the darkness carried him away. Simon was a veteran of countless battles. That is, if you counted battles engaged in while playing
Dungeons and Dragons. His friend
Eric was the military history buff and he was the one who usually organized the war part of the games,

which involved dozens of tiny figurines moving in straight lines across a flat landscape drawn on butcher paper.
That was the way hed always thought of battlesor the way they were in movies, with two groups of people advancing at each other across a flat expanse of land.
Straight
lines and orderly progression. This was nothing like that.
This was chaos, a melee of shouting and movement, and the landscape

wasnt flat but a mass of mud and blood churned into a thick, unstable paste. Simon had imagined that the
Night Children would walk to the battlefield and be greeted by someone in charge; he imagined hed see the battle from a distance first and be able to watch as the two sides clashed against each other.
But there was no greeting, and there were no sides. The battle loomed up out of the darkness as if hed wandered by accident from a deserted side street into a riot in the

middle of Times Squaresuddenly there were crowds surging around him, hands grabbing him, shoving him out of the way, and the vampires were scattering, diving into the battle without even a glance back for him.
And there were demonsdemons everywhere, and hed never imagined the kind of sounds theyd make, the screaming and hooting and grunting, and what was worse, the sounds of tearing and shredding and hungry satisfaction. Simon

wished he could turn his vampire hearing off, but he couldnt, and the sounds were like knives piercing his eardrums.
He stumbled over a body lying half in and half out of the mud, turned to see if help was needed, and saw that the Shadowhunter at his feet was gone from the shoulders up.
White bone gleamed against the dark earth, and despite Simons vampire nature, he felt nauseated. I must be the only vampire in the world sickened by the sight of

blood, he thought, and then something struck him hard from behind and he went over, skidding down a slope of mud into a pit.
Simons wasnt the only body down there. He rolled onto his back just as the demon loomed up over him. It looked like the image of Death from a medieval woodcutan animated skeleton, a bloodied hatchet clutched in one bony hand. He threw himself to the side as the blade thumped down, inches from his face. The skeleton made a

disappointed hissing noise and hoisted the hatchet again
And was struck from the side by a club of knotted wood. The skeleton burst apart like a pińata filled with bones. They rattled into pieces with a sound like castanets clacking before vanishing into the darkness.
A Shadowhunter stood over Simon.
It was no one hed ever seen before.
A tall man, bearded and bloodsplattered, who ran a grimy hand across his forehead as he stared down at Simon, leaving a dark

streak behind. You all right?
Stunned, Simon nodded and began scrambling to his feet. Thanks.
The stranger leaned down, offering a hand to help Simon up. Simon acceptedand went flying up out of the pit. He landed on his feet at the edge, his feet skidding on the wet mud. The stranger offered a sheepish grin. Sorry. Downworlder strengthmy partners a werewolf. Im not used to it. He peered at Simons face. You re a vampire, aren t you?
How did you know?

The man grinned. It was a tired sort of grin, but there was nothing unfriendly about it. Your fangs.
They come out when youre fighting.
I know because He broke off.
Simon could have filled in the rest for him: I know because Ive killed my fair share of vampires.
Anyway. Thanks. For fighting with us. I Simon was about to say that he hadnt exactly fought yet. Or contributed anything, really. He turned to say it, and got exactly one

word out of his mouth before something impossibly huge and clawed and ragged-winged swept down out of the sky and dug its talons into the Shadowhunters back.
The man didnt even cry out. His head went back, as if he were looking up in surprise, wondering what had hold of himand then he was gone, whipping up into the empty black sky in a whir of teeth and wings. His club thumped to the ground at Simon s feet.
Simon didnt move. The whole thing,

from the moment hed fallen into the pit, had taken less than a minute. He turned numbly, staring around him at the blades whirling through the darkness, at the slashing talons of demons, at the points of illumination that raced here and there through the darkness like fireflies darting through foliageand then he realized what they were. The gleaming lights of seraph blades.
He couldnt see the Lightwoods, or the Penhallows, or Luke, or anyone else he might recognize. He wasnt a

Shadowhunter. And yet that man had thanked him, thanked him for fighting. What hed told Clary was truethis was his battle too, and he was needed here. Not human Simon, who was gentle and geeky and hated the sight of blood, but vampire
Simon, a creature he barely even knew. Real vampires know that theyre dead, Raphael had said. But Simon didn t feel dead. He d never felt more alive. He turned as another demon loomed up in front of him: this one a

lizard-thing, scaled, with rodent teeth. It swept down on Simon with its black claws extended.
Simon leaped. He struck the massive side of the thing and clung, his nails digging in, the scales giving way under his grip. The
Mark on his forehead throbbed as he sank his fangs into the demons neck. It tasted awful.

When the glass stopped falling, there was a hole in the ceiling, several feet wide, as if a meteor had crashed through it. Cold air blew in through the gap. Shivering,
Clary got to her feet, brushing glass dust from her clothes.
The witchlight that had lit the Hall had been doused: It was gloomy inside now, thick with shadows and dust. The faint illumination of the fading Portal in the square was just visible, glowing through the open

front doors.
It was probably no longer safe to stay in here, Clary thought. She should go to the Penhallows and join Aline. She was partway across the Hall when footsteps sounded on the marble floor. Heart pounding, she turned and saw Malachi, a long, spidery shadow in the half-light, striding toward the dais. But what was he still doing here? Shouldnt he be with the rest of the
Shadowhunters on the battlefield?
As he drew closer to the dais, she

noticed something that made her put her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry of surprise. There was a hunched dark shape perched on Malachis shoulder. A bird. A raven, to be exact. Hugo.
Clary ducked to crouch behind a pillar as Malachi climbed the dais steps. There was something unmistakably furtive in the way he glanced from side to side.
Apparently satisfied that he was unobserved, he drew something

small and glittering from his pocket and slipped it onto his finger. A ring? He reached to twist it, and
Clary remembered Hodge in the library at the Institute, taking the ring from Jace s hand
The air in front of Malachi shimmered faintly, as if with heat. A voice spoke from it, a familiar voice, cool and cultured, now touched with just the faintest annoyance. What is it, Malachi? Im in no mood for small talk right now.

My lord Valentine, said Malachi.
His usual hostility had been replaced with a slimy obsequiousness. Hugin visited me not a moment ago, bringing news. I assumed you had already reached the Mirror, and therefore he sought me out instead. I thought you might want to know.
Valentines tone was sharp. Very well. What news?
Its your son, lord. Your other son.
Hugin tracked him to the valley of the cave. He may even have

followed you through the tunnels to the lake.
Clary clutched the pillar with whitened fingers. They were talking about Jace.
Valentine grunted. Did he meet his brother there?
Hugin says that he left the two of them fighting.
Clary felt her stomach turn over.
Jace, fighting Sebastian? She thought of the way Sebastian had lifted Jace at the Gard and flung him, as if he weighed nothing. A

wave of panic surged over her, so intense that for a moment her ears buzzed. By the time the room swam back into focus, she had missed whatever Valentine had said to
Malachi in return.
It is the ones old enough to be
Marked but not old enough to fight, that concern me, Malachi was saying now. They didnt vote in the
Councils decision. It seems unfair to punish them in the same way that those who are fighting must be punished. I did consider that. Valentines voice was a bass rumble. Because teenagers are more lightly Marked, it takes them longer to become
Forsaken. Several days, at least. I believe it may well be reversible.
While those of us who have drunk from the Mortal Cup will remain entirely unaffected?
Im busy, Malachi, said Valentine.
Ive told you that youll be safe. I am trusting my own life to this process.
Have some faith.
Malachi bowed his head. I have

great faith, my lord. I have kept it for many years, in silence, serving you always.
And you will be rewarded, said
Valentine.
Malachi looked up. My lord
But the air had stopped shimmering.
Valentine was gone. Malachi frowned, then marched down the dais steps and toward the front doors. Clary shrank back against the pillar, hoping desperately that he wouldnt see her. Her heart was pounding. What had all that been

about? What was all this about
Forsaken? The answer glimmered at the corner of her mind, but it seemed too horrible to contemplate.
Even Valentine wouldn t
Something flew at her face then, whirling and dark. She barely had time to throw her arms up to cover her eyes when something slashed along the back of her hands. She heard a fierce caw, and wings beat against her upraised wrists.
Hugin! Enough! It was Malachis sharp voice. Hugin! There was

another caw and a thump, then silence. Clary lowered her arms and saw the raven lying motionless at the Consuls feetstunned or dead, she couldnt tell. With a snarl
Malachi kicked the raven savagely out of his way and strode toward
Clary, glowering. He caught hold of her by a bleeding wrist and hauled her to her feet. Stupid girl, he said.
How long have you been there listening? Long enough to know that youre one of the Circle, she spat, twisting her

wrist in his grasp, but he held firm.
You re on Valentine s side.
There is only one side. His voice came out in a hiss. The Clave is foolish, misguided, pandering to half men and monsters. All I want is to make it pure, to return it to its former glory. A goal youd think every Shadowhunter would approve of, but nothey listen to fools and demon-lovers like you and Lucian
Graymark. And now youve sent the flower of the Nephilim to die in this ridiculous battlean empty gesture

that will accomplish nothing.
Valentine has already begun the ritual; soon the Angel will rise, and the Nephilim will become
Forsaken. All those save the few under Valentine s protection
Thats murder! Hes murdering
Shadowhunters!
Not murder, said the Consul. His voice rang with a fanatics passion.
Cleansing. Valentine will make a new world of Shadowhunters, a world purged of weakness and corruption. Weakness and corruption isnt in the world, Clary snapped. Its in people.
And it always will be. The world just needs good people to balance it out. And youre planning to kill them all. He looked at her for a moment with honest surprise, as if he were astonished at the force in her tone.
Fine words from a girl who would betray her own father. Malachi jerked her toward him, yanking brutally on her bleeding wrist.
Perhaps we should see just how

much Valentine would mind if I taught you
But Clary never found out what he wanted to teach her. A dark shape shot between themwings outspread and claws extended.
The raven caught Malachi with the tip of a talon, raking a bloody groove across his face. With a cry the Consul let go of Clary and threw up his arms, but Hugo had circled back and was slashing at him viciously with beak and claws.
Malachi staggered backward, arms

flailing, until he struck the edge of a bench, hard. It fell over with a crash; unbalanced, he sprawled after it with a strangled cryquickly cut off.
Clary raced to where Malachi lay crumpled on the marble floor, a circle of blood already pooling around him. He had landed on a pile of glass from the broken ceiling, and one of the jagged chunks had pierced his throat. Hugo was still hovering in the air, circling
Malachis body. He gave a

triumphant caw as Clary stared at himapparently he hadnt appreciated the Consuls kicks and blows.
Malachi should have known better than to attack one of Valentines creatures, Clary thought sourly. The bird was no more forgiving than its master. But there was no time to think about
Malachi now. Alec had said that there were wards up around the lake, and that if anyone Portaled there, an alarm would go off.
Valentine was probably already at

the mirrorthere was no time to waste. Backing slowly away from the raven, Clary turned and dashed toward the front doors of the Hall and the glimmer of the Portal beyond. 20

WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE

Water struck her in the face like a blow. Clary went down, choking, into freezing darkness; her first thought was that the Portal had faded beyond repairing, and that she was stuck in the whirling black inbetween place, where she would suffocate and die, just as Jace had warned her she might the first time she d ever used a Portal.
Her second thought was that she was already dead.
She was probably only actually unconscious for a few seconds,

though it felt like the end of everything. When she came awake, it was with a shock that was like the shock of breaking through a layer of ice. She had been unconscious and now, suddenly, she wasnt; she was lying on her back on cold, damp earth, staring up at a sky so full of stars it looked like a handful of silver pieces had been flung across its dark surface. Her mouth was full of brackish liquid; she turned her head to the side, coughed and spat and gasped until she could breathe

again.
When her stomach had stopped spasming, she rolled onto her side.
Her wrists were bound together with a faint band of glowing light, and her legs felt heavy and strange, prickling all over with intense pins and needles. She wondered if shed lain on them strangely, or perhaps it was a side effect of nearly drowning. The back of her neck burned as if a wasp had stung her.
With a gasp she heaved herself into a sitting position, legs stretched out

awkwardly in front of her, and looked around.
She was on the shore of Lake Lyn, where the water gave way to powdery sand. A black wall of rock rose behind her, the cliffs she remembered from her time here with Luke. The sand itself was dark, glittering with silver mica. Here and there in the sand were witchlight torches, filling the air with their silvery glow, leaving a tracery of glowing lines across the surface of the water.

By the shore of the lake, a few feet away from where she sat, stood a low table made out of flat stones piled one on the other. It had clearly been assembled in haste; though the gaps between the stones were packed in with damp sand, some of the rocks were slipping away at angles. Placed on the surface of the stones was something that made
Clary catch her breaththe Mortal
Cup, and laid crossways atop it, the
Mortal Sword, a tongue of black flame in the witchlight. Around the

altar were the black lines of runes carved into the sand. She stared at them, but they were jumbled, meaningless A shadow cut across the sand, moving fastthe long black shadow of a man, made wavering and indistinct by the flickering light of the torches. By the time Clary raised her head, he was already standing over her.
Valentine.
The shock of seeing him was so enormous that it was almost no

shock at all. She felt nothing as she stared up at her father, whose face hovered against the dark sky like the moon: white, austere, pitted with black eyes like meteor craters. Over his shirt were looped a number of leather straps holding a dozen or more weapons. They bristled behind him like a porcupines spines. He looked huge, impossibly broad, the terrifying statue of some warrior god intent on destruction.
Clarissa, he said. You took quite a risk, Portaling here. Youre lucky I

saw you appear in the water between one minute and the next.
You were quite unconscious; if it werent for me, you would have drowned. A muscle beside his mouth moved slightly. And I wouldnt concern yourself overmuch with the alarm wards the Clave put up around the lake. I took those down the moment I arrived. No one knows you re here.
I dont believe you! Clary opened her mouth to fling the words in his face. There was no sound. It was

like one of those nightmares where she would try to scream and scream and nothing would happen. Only a dry puff of air came from her mouth, the gasp of someone trying to scream with a cut throat.
Valentine shook his head. Dont bother trying to speak. I used a Rune of Quietude, one of those that the
Silent Brothers use, on the back of your neck. Theres a binding rune on your wrists, and another disabling your legs. I wouldnt try to standyour legs wont hold you, and itll only

cause you pain.
Clary glared at him, trying to bore into him with her eyes, cut him with her hatred. But he took no notice. It could have been worse, you know.
By the time I dragged you onto the bank, the lake poison had already started its work. Ive cured you of it, by the way. Not that I expect your thanks. He smiled thinly. You and I, weve never had a conversation, have we? Not a real conversation.
You must be wondering why I never really seemed to have a fathers

interest in you. Im sorry if that hurt you. Now her stare went from hateful to incredulous. How could they have a conversation when she couldnt even speak? She tried to force the words out, but nothing came from her throat but a thin gasp.
Valentine turned back to his altar and placed his hand on the Mortal
Sword. The sword gave off a black light, a sort of reverse glow, as if it were sucking the illumination from the air around it. I didnt know your

mother was pregnant with you when she left me, he said. He was speaking to her, Clary thought, in a way he never had before. His tone was calm, even conversational, but it wasnt that. I knew there was something wrong. She thought she was hiding her unhappiness. I took some blood from Ithuriel, dried it to a powder, and mixed it with her food, thinking it might cure her unhappiness. If Id known she was pregnant, I wouldnt have done it. Id already resolved not to experiment

again on a child of my own blood.
Youre lying, Clary wanted to scream at him. But she wasnt sure he was. He still sounded strange to her. Different. Maybe it was because he was telling the truth.
After she fled Idris, I looked for her for years, he said. And not just because she had the Mortal Cup.
Because I loved her. I thought if I could only talk to her, I could make her see reason. I did what I did that night in Alicante in a fit of rage, wanting to destroy her, destroy

everything about our life together.
But afterward I He shook his head, turning away to look out over the lake. When I finally tracked her down, Id heard rumors shed had another child, a daughter. I assumed you were Lucians. Hed always loved her, always wanted to take her from me. I thought she must finally have given in. Have consented to have a child with a filthy Downworlder. His voice tightened. When I found her in your apartment in New York, she was

still barely conscious. She spat at me that Id made a monster out of her first child, and shed left me before I could do the same to her second.
Then she went limp in my arms. All those years Id looked for her, and that was all I had with her. Those few seconds in which she looked at me with a lifetimes worth of hate. I realized something then.
He lifted Maellartach. Clary remembered how heavy even the half-turned Sword had been to hold, and saw as the blade rose that the

muscles of Valentines arm stood out, hard and corded, like ropes snaking under the skin.
I realized, he said, that the reason she left me was to protect you.
Jonathan she hated, but youshe would have done anything to protect you. To protect you from me. She even lived among mundanes, which
I know must have pained her. It must have hurt her never to be able to raise you with any of our traditions. You are half of what you could have been. You have your

talent with runes, but its been squandered by your mundane upbringing. He lowered the Sword. The tip of it hung, now, just by Clarys face; she could see it out of the corner of her eye, floating at the edge of her vision like a silvery moth.
I knew then that Jocelyn would never come back to me, because of you. You are the only thing in the world she ever loved more than she loved me. And because of you she hates me. And because of that, I hate

the sight of you.
Clary turned her face away. If he was going to kill her, she didn t want to see her death coming.
Clarissa, said Valentine. Look at me. No. She stared at the lake. Far out across the water she could see a dim red glow, like fire sunk away into ashes. She knew it was the light of the battle. Her mother was there, and Luke. Maybe it was fitting that they were together, even if she wasn t with them.

Ill keep my eyes on that light, she thought. Ill keep looking at it no matter what. Itll be the last thing I ever see.
Clarissa, Valentine said again. You look just like her, do you know that?
Just like Jocelyn.
She felt a sharp pain against her cheek. It was the blade of the
Sword. He was pressing the edge of it against her skin, trying to force her to turn her head toward him.
Im going to raise the Angel now, he said. And I want you to watch as it

happens.
There was a bitter taste in Clarys mo uth. I know why youre so obsessed with my mother. Because she was the one thing you thought you had total control over that ever turned around and bit you.
You thought you owned her and you didnt. Thats why you want her here, right now, to witness you winning. Thats why youll make do with me.
The Sword bit farther into her cheek. Valentine said, Look at me,

Clary.
She looked. She didnt want to, but the pain was too muchher head jerked to the side almost against her will, the blood dripping in great fat drops down her face, splattering the sand. A nauseous pain gripped her as she raised her head to look at her father. He was gazing down at the blade of
Maellartach. It, too, was stained with her blood. When he glanced back at her, there was a strange light in his eyes. Blood is needed to

complete this ceremony, he said. I intended to use my own, but when I saw you in the lake, I knew it was
Raziels way of telling me to use my daughters instead. Its why I cleared your blood of the lakes taint. You are purified nowpurified and ready.
So thank you, Clarissa, for the use of your blood.
And in some way, Clary thought, he meant it, meant his gratitude. He had long ago lost the ability to distinguish between force and cooperation, between fear and

willingness, between love and torture. And with that realization came a rush of numbnesswhat was the point of hating Valentine for being a monster when he didnt even know he was one?
And now, Valentine said, I just need a bit more, and Clary thought, A bit more what?just as he swung the
Sword back and the starlight exploded off it, and she thought, Of course. Its not just blood he wants, but death. The Sword had fed itself on enough blood by now; it

probably had a taste for it, just like
Valentine himself. Her eyes followed Maellartachs black light as it sliced toward her
And went flying. Knocked out of
Valentines hand, it hurtled into the darkness. Valentines eyes went wide; his gaze flicked down, fastening first on his bleeding sword handand then he looked up and saw, at the same moment that
Clary did, what had struck the
Mortal Sword from his grasp.
Jace, a familiar-looking sword

gripped in his left hand, stood at the edge of a rise of sand, barely a foot from Valentine. Clary could see from the older mans expression that he hadnt heard Jace approach any more than she had.
Clarys heart caught at the sight of him. Dried blood crusted the side of his face, and there was a livid red mark at his throat. His eyes shone like mirrors, and in the witchlight they looked blackblack as
Sebastians. Clary, he said, not taking his eyes off his father. Clary,

are you all right?
Jace! She struggled to say his name, but nothing could pass the blockage in her throat. She felt as if she were choking. She cant answer you, said
Valentine. She can t speak.
Jaces eyes flashed. What have you done to her? He jabbed the sword toward Valentine, who took a step back. The look on Valentines face was wary but not frightened. There was a calculation to his expression that Clary didnt like. She knew she

ought to feel triumphant, but she didntif anything, she felt more panicked than she had a moment ago. Shed realized that Valentine was going to kill herhad accepted itand now Jace was here, and her fear had expanded to encompass him as well. And he looked so destroyed. His gear was ripped halfway open down one arm, and the skin beneath was crisscrossed with white lines. His shirt was torn across the front, and there was a fading iratze over his heart that had

not quite managed to erase the angry red scar beneath it. Dirt stained his clothes, as if hed been rolling around on the ground. But it was his expression that frightened her the most. It was so bleak.
A Rune of Quietude. She wont be hurt by it. Valentines eyes fastened on Jacehungrily, Clary thought, as if he were drinking in the sight of him.
I dont suppose, Valentine asked, that youve come to join me? To be blessed by the Angel beside me?
Jaces expression didnt change. His

eyes were fixed on his adoptive father, and there was nothing in themno lingering shred of affection or love or memory. There wasnt even any hatred. Justdisdain, Clary thought. A cold disdain. I know what youre planning to do, Jace said. I know why youre summoning the Angel. And I wont let you do it.
I ve already sent Isabelle to warn the army Warnings will do them little good.
This is not the sort of danger you can run from. Valentines gaze

flicked down to Jaces sword. Put that down, he began, and we can talk He broke off then. Thats not your sword. Thats a Morgenstern sword. Jace smiled, a dark, sweet smile. It was Jonathan s. He s dead now.
Valentine looked stunned. You mean I took it from the ground where hed dropped it, Jace said, without emotion, after I killed him.
Valentine seemed dumbfounded.
You killed Jonathan? How could

you have?
He would have killed me, said
Jace. I had no choice.
I didnt mean that. Valentine shook his head; he still looked stunned, like a boxer whod been hit too hard in the moment before he collapsed to the mat. I raised JonathanI trained him myself. There was no better warrior. Apparently, Jace said, there was.
But And Valentines voice cracked, the first time Clary had ever heard a flaw in the smooth, unruffled facade

of that voice. But he was your brother. No. He wasnt. Jace took a step forward, nudging the blade an inch closer to Valentines heart. What happened to my real father? Isabelle said he died in a raid, but did he really? Did you kill him like you killed my mother?
Valentine still looked stunned.
Clary sensed that he was fighting for controlfighting against grief? Or just afraid to die? I didnt kill your mother. She took her own life. I cut

you out of her dead body. If I hadnt done that, you would have died along with her.
But why? Why did you do it? You didnt need a son, you had a son!
Jace looked deadly in the moonlight, Clary thought, deadly and strange, like someone she didnt know. The hand that held the sword toward Valentines throat was unwavering. Tell me the truth, Jace said. No more lies about how were the same flesh and blood. Parents lie to their children, but youyoure

not my father. And I want the truth.
It wasnt a son I needed, Valentine said. It was a soldier. I had thought
Jonathan might be that soldier, but he had too much of the demon nature in him. He was too savage, too sudden, not subtle enough. I feared even then, when he was barely out of infancy, that he would never have the patience or the compassion to follow me, to lead the Clave in my footsteps. So I tried again with you.
And with you I had the opposite trouble. You were too gentle. Too

empathic. You felt others pain as if it were your own; you couldnt even bear the death of your pets.
Understand this, my sonI loved you for those things. But the very things
I loved about you made you no use to me.
So you thought I was soft and useless, said Jace. I suppose it will be surprising for you, then, when your soft and useless son cuts your throat. Weve been through this. Valentines voice was steady, but Clary thought

she could see the sweat gleaming at his temples, at the base of his throat.
You wouldnt do that. You didnt want to do it at Renwicks, and you don t want to do it now.
Youre wrong. Jace spoke in a measured tone. I have regretted not killing you every day since I let you go. My brother Max is dead because I didnt kill you that day.
Dozens, maybe hundreds, are dead because I stayed my hand. I know your plan. I know you hope to slaughter almost every Shadowhunter in Idris. And I ask myself, how many more have to die before I do what I should have done on Blackwells Island? No, he said.
I don t want to kill you. But I will.
Don t do this, said Valentine. Please.
I don t want to
To die? No one wants to die,
Father. The point of Jaces sword slipped lower, and then lower until it was resting over Valentines heart.
Jaces face was calm, the face of an angel dispatching divine justice. Do you have any last words?

Jonathan
Blood spotted Valentines shirt where the tip of the blade rested, and Clary saw, in her minds eye,
Jace at Renwicks, his hand shaking, not wanting to hurt his father. And
Valentine taunting him. Drive the blade in. Three inchesmaybe four.
It wasnt like that now. Jaces hand was steady. And Valentine looked afraid. Last words, hissed Jace. What are they? Valentine raised his head. His black

eyes as he looked at the boy in front of him were grave. Im sorry, he said. I am so sorry. He stretched out a hand, as if he meant to reach out to
Jace, even to touch himhis hand turned, palm up, the fingers openingand then there was a silver flash and something flew by Clary in the darkness like a bullet shot out of a gun. She felt displaced air brush her cheek as it passed, and then Valentine had caught it out of the air, a long tongue of silver fire that flashed once in his hand as he

brought it down.
It was the Mortal Sword. It left a tracery of black light on the air as
Valentine drove the blade of it into
Jace s heart.
Jaces eyes flew wide. A look of disbelieving confusion passed over his face; he glanced down at himself, where Maellartach stuck grotesquely out of his chestit looked more bizarre than horrible, like a prop from a nightmare that made no logical sense. Valentine drew his hand back then, jerking the Sword

out of Jaces chest the way he might have jerked a dagger from its scabbard; as if it had been all that was holding him up, Jace went to his knees. His sword slid from his grasp and hit the damp earth. He looked down at it in puzzlement, as if he had no idea why he had been holding it, or why he had let it go.
He opened his mouth as if to ask the question, and blood poured over his chin, staining what was left of his ragged shirt.
Everything after that seemed to

Clary to happen very slowly, as if time were stretching itself out. She saw Valentine sink to the ground and pull Jace onto his lap as if Jace were still very small and could be easily held. He drew him close and rocked him, and he lowered his face and pressed it against Jaces shoulder, and Clary thought for a moment that he might even have been crying, but when he lifted his head, Valentines eyes were dry. My son, he whispered. My boy.
The terrible slowing of time

stretched around Clary like a strangling rope, while Valentine held Jace and brushed his bloody hair back from his forehead. He held Jace while he died, and the light went out of his eyes, and then
Valentine laid his adopted sons body gently down on the ground, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the gaping, bloody wound there. Ave, he began, as if he meant to say the words over Jace, the
Shadowhunters farewell, but his voice cracked, and he turned

abruptly and walked back toward the altar.
Clary couldnt move. Could barely breathe. She could hear her own heart beating, hear the scrape of her breathing in her dry throat. From the corner of her eye she could see
Valentine standing by the edge of the lake, blood streaming from the blade of Maellartach and dripping into the bowl of the Mortal Cup. He was chanting words she didnt understand. She didnt care to try to understand. It would all be over

soon, and she was almost glad. She wondered if she had enough energy to drag herself over to where Jace lay, if she could lie down beside him and wait for it to be over. She stared at him, lying motionless on the churned, bloody sand. His eyes were closed, his face still; if it werent for the gash across his chest, she could have told herself he was asleep. But he wasnt. He was a
Shadowhunter; he had died in battle; he deserved the last

benediction. Ave atque vale. Her lips shaped the words, though they fell from her mouth in silent puffs of air. Halfway through, she stopped, her breath catching. What should she say? Hail and farewell, Jace
Wayland? That name was not truly his. He had never even really been named, she thought with agony, just given the name of a dead child because it had suited Valentines purposes at the time. And there was so much power in a name .
Her head whipped around, and she

stared at the altar. The runes surrounding it had begun to glow.
They were runes of summoning, runes of naming, and runes of binding. They were not unlike the runes that had kept Ithuriel imprisoned in the cellars beneath the Wayland manor. Now very much against her will, she thought of the way Jace had looked at her then, the blaze of faith in his eyes, his belief in her. He had always thought she was strong. He had showed it in everything he did, in

every look and every touch. Simon had faith in her too, yet when hed held her, it had been as if she were something fragile, something made of delicate glass. But Jace had held her with all the strength he had, never wondering if she could take ithed known she was as strong as he was. Valentine was dipping the bloody
Sword over and over in the water of the lake now, chanting low and fast. The water of the lake was rippling, as if a giant hand were

stroking fingers lightly across its surface. Clary closed her eyes. Remembering the way Jace had looked at her the night shed freed
Ithuriel, she couldnt help but imagine the way hed look at her now if he saw her trying to lie down to die on the sand beside him. He wouldnt be touched, wouldnt think it was a beautiful gesture. Hed be angry at her for giving up. Hed be so disappointed. Clary lowered herself so that she

was lying on the ground, heaving her dead legs behind her. Slowly she crawled across the sand, pushing herself along with her knees and bound hands. The glowing band around her wrists burned and stung.
Her shirt tore as she dragged herself across the ground, and the sand scraped the bare skin of her stomach. She barely felt it. It was hard work, pulling herself along like thissweat ran down her back, between her shoulder blades. When she finally reached the circle of

runes, she was panting so loudly that she was terrified Valentine would hear her.
But he didnt even turn around. He had the Mortal Cup in one hand and the Sword in the other. As she watched, he drew his right hand back, spoke several words that sounded like Greek, and threw the
Cup. It shone like a falling star as it hurtled toward the water of the lake and vanished beneath the surface with a faint splash.
The circle of runes was giving off a

faint heat, like a partly banked fire.
Clary had to twist and struggle to reach her hand around to the stele jammed into her belt. The pain in her wrists spiked as her fingers closed around the handle; she pulled it free with a muffled gasp of relief. She couldnt separate her wrists, so she gripped the stele awkwardly in both hands. She pushed herself up with her elbows, staring down at the runes. She could feel the heat of them on her face; they had begun to

shimmer like witchlight. Valentine had the Mortal Sword poised, ready to throw it; he was chanting the last words of the summoning spell. With a final burst of strength Clary drove the tip of the stele into the sand, not scraping aside the runes Valentine had drawn but tracing her own pattern over them, writing a new rune over the one that symbolized his name. It was such a small rune, she thought, such a small changenothing like her immensely powerful Alliance rune, nothing like

the Mark of Cain.
But it was all she could do. Spent,
Clary rolled onto her side just as
Valentine drew his arm back and let the Mortal Sword fly.
Maellartach hurtled end over end, a black and silver blur that joined soundlessly with the black and silver lake. A great plume went up from the place where it splashed down: a flowering of platinum water. The plume rose higher and higher, a geyser of molten silver, like rain falling upward. There was

a great crashing noise, the sound of shattering ice, a glacier breakingand then the lake seemed to blow apart, silver water exploding upward like a reverse hailstorm.
And rising with the hailstorm came the Angel. Clary was not sure what shed expectedsomething like Ithuriel, but Ithuriel had been diminished by many years of captivity and torment. This was an angel in the full force of his glory.
As he rose from the water, her eyes began to burn as if she were staring

into the sun.
Valentines hands had fallen to his sides. He was gazing upward with a rapt expression, a man watching his greatest dream become reality.
Raziel, he breathed.
The Angel continued to rise, as if the lake were sinking away, revealing a great column of marble at its center. First his head emerged from the water, streaming hair like chains of silver and gold. Then shoulders, white as stone, and then a bare torsoand Clary saw that the

Angel was Marked all over with runes just as the Nephilim were, although Raziels runes were golden and alive, moving across his white skin like sparks flying from a fire.
Somehow, at the same time, the
Angel was both enormous and no bigger than a man: Clarys eyes hurt trying to take all of him in, and yet he was all that she could see. As he rose, wings burst from his back and opened wide across the lake, and they were gold too, and feathered, and set into each feather was a

single golden staring eye.
It was beautiful, and also terrifying.
Clary wanted to look away, but she wouldnt. She would watch it all.
She would watch it for Jace, because he couldn t.
Its just like all those pictures, she thought. The Angel rising from the lake, the Sword in one hand and the
Cup in the other. Both were streaming water, but Raziel was dry as a bone, his wings undampened.
His feet rested, white and bare, on the surface of the lake, stirring its

waters into small ripples of movement. His face, beautiful and inhuman, gazed down at Valentine.
And then he spoke.
His voice was like a cry and a shout and like music, all at once. It contained no words, yet was totally comprehensible. The force of his breath nearly knocked Valentine backward; he dug the heels of his boots into the sand, his head tilted back as if he were walking against a gale. Clary felt the wind of the
Angels breath pass over her: It was

hot like air escaping from a furnace, and smelled of strange spices.
It has been a thousand years since
I was last summoned to this place,
Raziel
said. Jonathan
Shadowhunter called on me then, and begged me to mix my blood with the blood of mortal men in a
Cup and create a race of warriors who would rid this earth of demonkind. I did all that he asked and told him I would do no more.
Why do you summon me now,
Nephilim?

Valentines voice was eager. A thousand years have passed,
Glorious One, but demonkind are still here.
What is that to me? A thousand years for an angel pass between one blink of an eye and another.
The Nephilim you created were a great race of men. For many years they valiantly battled to rid this plane of demon taint. But they have failed due to weakness and corruption in their ranks. I intend to return them to their former glory

Glory? The Angel sounded faintly curious, as if the word were strange to him. Glory belongs to God alone. Valentine didnt waver. The Clave as the first Nephilim created it exists no more. They have allied themselves with Downworlders, the demon-tainted nonhumans who infest this world like fleas on the carcass of a rat. It is my intention to cleanse this world, to destroy every
Downworlder along with every demon Demons do not possess souls. But as for the creatures you speak of, the Children of Moon, Night,
Lilith, and Faerie, all are souled.
It seems that your rules as to what does and does not constitute a human being are stricter than our own. Clary could have sworn the
Angels voice had taken on a dry tone. Do you intend to challenge heaven like that other Morning
Star whose name you bear,
Shadowhunter?
Not to challenge heaven, no, Lord

Raziel. To ally myself with heaven
In a war of your making? We are heaven, Shadowhunter. We do not fight in your mundane battles.
When Valentine spoke again, he sounded almost hurt. Lord Raziel.
Surely you would not have allowed such a thing as a ritual by which you might be summoned to exist if you did not intend to be summoned. We
Nephilim are your children. We need your guidance.
Guidance? Now the Angel sounded amused. That hardly seems to be

why you brought me here. You seek rather your own renown.
Renown?
Valentine echoed hoarsely. I have given everything for this cause. My wife. My children. I have not withheld my sons. I have given everything I have for this everything.
The Angel simply hovered, gazing down at Valentine with his weird, inhuman eyes. His wings moved in slow, undeliberate motions, like the passage of clouds across the sky. At last he said, God asked Abraham to

sacrifice his son on an altar much like this one, to see who it was that
Abraham loved more, Isaac or
God. But no one asked you to sacrifice your son, Valentine.
Valentine glanced down at the altar at his feet, splashed with Jaces blood, and then back up at the
Angel. If I must, I will compel this from you, he said. But I would rather have your willing cooperation. When Jonathan Shadowhunter summoned me, said the Angel, I

gave him my assistance because I could see that his dream of a world free of demons was a true one. He imagined a heaven on this earth.
But you dream only of your own glory, and you do not love heaven.
My brother Ithuriel can attest to that. Valentine blanched. But
Did you think that I would not know? The Angel smiled. It was the most terrible smile Clary had ever seen. It is true that the master of the circle you have drawn can

compel from me a single action.
But you are not that master.
Valentine
stared.
My
lord
Raziel there is no one else
But there is, said the Angel. There is your daughter.
Valentine whirled. Clary, lying half-conscious in the sand, her wrists and arms a screaming agony, stared defiantly back. For a moment their eyes metand he looked at her, really looked at her, and she realized it was the first time her father had ever looked her in the

face and seen her. The first and only time. Clarissa, he said. What have you done? Clary stretched out her hand, and with her finger she wrote in the sand at his feet. She didnt draw runes. She drew words: the words he had said to her the first time hed seen what she could do, when shed drawn the rune that had destroyed his ship.
MENE
MENE
TEKEL
UPHARSIN.

His eyes widened, just as Jaces eyes had widened before hed died.
Valentine had gone bone white. He turned slowly to face the Angel, raising his hands in a gesture of supplication. My lord Raziel
The Angel opened his mouth and spat. Or at least that was how it seemed to Clarythat the Angel spat, and that what came from his mouth was a shooting spark of white fire, like a burning arrow. The arrow flew straight and true across the water and buried itself in

Valentines chest. Or maybe buried wasnt the wordit tore through him, like a rock through thin paper, leaving a smoking hole the size of a fist. For a moment Clary, staring up, could look through her father s chest and see the lake and the fiery glow of the Angel beyond.
The moment passed. Like a felled tree, Valentine crashed to the ground and lay stillhis mouth open in a silent cry, his blind eyes fixed forever in a last look of incredulous betrayal. That was the justice of heaven. I trust that you are not dismayed.
Clary looked up. The Angel hovered over her, like a tower of white flame, blotting out the sky.
His hands were empty; the Mortal
Cup and Sword lay by the shore of the lake.
You can compel me to one action,
Clarissa Morgenstern. What is it that you want?
Clary opened her mouth. No sound came out.
Ah, yes, the Angel said, and there

was gentleness in his voice now.
The rune. The many eyes in his wings blinked. Something brushed over her. It was soft, softer than silk or any other cloth, softer than a whisper or the brush of a feather. It w a s what she imagined clouds might feel like if they had a texture.
A faint scent came with the toucha pleasant scent, heady and sweet.
The pain vanished from her wrists.
No longer bound together, her hands fell to her sides. The stinging at the back of her neck was gone too, and

the heaviness from her legs. She struggled to her knees. More than anything, she wanted to crawl across the bloody sand toward the place where Jaces body lay, crawl to him and lay down beside him and put her arms around him, even though he was gone. But the Angels voice compelled her; she remained where she was, staring up into his brilliant golden light.
The battle on Brocelind Plain is ending. Morgensterns hold over his demons vanished with his

death. Already many are fleeing; the rest will soon be destroyed.
There are Nephilim riding to the shores of this lake at this very moment. If you have a request,
Shadowhunter, speak it now. The
Angel paused. And remember that I am not a genie. Choose your desire wisely. Clary hesitatedonly for a moment, but the moment stretched out as long as any moment ever had. She could ask for anything, she thought dizzily, anythingan end to pain or world

hunger or disease, or for peace on earth. But then again, perhaps these things werent in the power of angels to grant, or they would already have been granted. And perhaps people were supposed to find these things for themselves.
It didnt matter, anyway. There was only one thing she could ask for, in the end, only one real choice.
She raised her eyes to the Angel s.
Jace, she said.
The Angels expression didnt change. She had no idea whether

Raziel thought her request a good one or a bad one, or whethershe thought with a sudden burst of panic he intended to grant it at all.
Close
your eyes, Clarissa
Morgenstern, the Angel said.
Clary shut her eyes. You didnt say no to an angel, no matter what it had in mind. Her heart pounding, she sat floating in the darkness behind her eyelids, resolutely trying not to think of Jace. But his face appeared against the blank screen of her closed eyelids anywaynot smiling at

her but looking sidelong, and she could see the scar at his temple, the uneven curl at the corner of his mouth, and the silver line on his throat where Simon had bitten himall the marks and flaws and imperfections that made up the person she loved most in the world.
Jace. A bright light lit her vision to scarlet, and she fell back against the sand, wondering if she was going to pass outor maybe she was dyingbut she didnt want to die, not now that she could see Jaces face so clearly

in front of her. She could almost hear his voice, too, saying her name, the way hed whispered it at
Renwicks, over and over again.
Clary. Clary. Clary.
Clary, Jace said. Open your eyes.
She did.
She was lying on the sand, in her torn, wet, and bloodied clothes.
That was the same. What was not the same was that the Angel was gone, and with him the blinding white light that had lit the darkness to day. She was gazing up at the

night sky, white stars like mirrors shining in the blackness, and leaning over her, the light in his eyes more brilliant than any of the stars, was
Jace.
Her eyes drank him in, every part of him, from his tangled hair to his bloodstained, grimy face to his eyes shining through the layers of dirt; from the bruises visible through his torn sleeves to the gaping, bloodsoaked tear down the front of his shirt, through which his bare skin showedand there was no mark, no

gash, to indicate where the Sword had gone in. She could see the pulse beating in his throat, and almost threw her arms around him at the sight because it meant his heart was beating and that meant
Youre alive, she whispered. Really alive. With a slow wonderment he reached to touch her face. I was in the dark, he said softly. There was nothing there but shadows, and I was a shadow, and I knew that I was dead, and that it was over, all

of it. And then I heard your voice. I heard you say my name, and it brought me back.
Not me. Clarys throat tightened. The
Angel brought you back.
Because you asked him to. Silently he traced the outline of her face with his fingers, as if reassuring himself that she was real. You could have had anything else in the world, and you asked for me.
She smiled up at him. Filthy as he was, covered in blood and dirt, he was the most beautiful thing shed

ever seen. But I dont want anything else in the world.
At that, the light in his eyes, already bright, went to such a blaze that she could hardly bear to look at him.
She thought of the Angel, and how he had burned like a thousand torches, and that Jace had in him some of that same incandescent blood, and how that burning shone through him now, through his eyes, like light through the cracks in a door. I love you, Clary wanted to say.

And, I would do it again. I would always ask for you. But those weren t the words she said.
Youre not my brother, she told him, a little breathlessly, as if, having realized she hadn t yet said them, she couldnt get the words out of her mouth fast enough. You know that, right? Very slightly, through the grime and blood, Jace grinned. Yes, he said. I know that.

Epilogue

Across the Sky in Stars

I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars.
T. E. Lawrence

The smoke rose in a lazy spiral, tracing delicate lines of black across the clear air. Jace, alone on the hill overlooking the cemetery, sat with his elbows on his knees and watched the smoke drift heavenward. The irony wasnt lost on him: These were his fathers remains, after all.
He could see the bier from where he was sitting, obscured by smoke and flame, and the small group standing around it. He recognized

Jocelyns bright hair from here, and
Luke standing beside her, his hand on her back. Jocelyn had her head turned aside, away from the burning pyre. Jace could have been one of that group, had he wanted to be. Hed spent the last couple of days in the infirmary, and theyd only let him out this morning, partly so that he could attend Valentines funeral. But hed gotten halfway to the pyre, a stacked pile of stripped wood, white as bones, and realized he could go no

farther. Hed turned and walked up the hill instead, away from the mourners procession. Luke had called after him, but Jace hadnt turned. Hed sat and watched them gather around the bier, watched Patrick
Penhallow in his parchment white gear set the flame to the wood. It was the second time that week hed watched a body burn, but Maxs had been heartbreakingly small, and
Valentine was a big maneven flat on his back with his arms crossed over

his chest, a seraph blade gripped in his fist. His eyes were bound with white silk, as was the custom. They had done well by him, Jace thought, despite everything.
They hadnt buried Sebastian. A group of Shadowhunters had gone back to the valley, but they hadnt found his bodywashed away by the river, theyd told Jace, though he had his doubts.
He had looked for Clary in the crowd around the bier, but she wasnt there. It had been almost two

days now since hed seen her last, at the lake, and he missed her with an almost physical sense of something lacking. It wasnt her fault they hadnt seen each other. Shed been worried he wasnt strong enough to Portal back to Alicante from the lake that night, and shed turned out to be right. By the time the first
Shadowhunters had reached them, hed been drifting into a dizzy unconsciousness. Hed woken up the next day in the city hospital with
Magnus Bane staring down at him

with an odd expressionit could have been deep concern or merely curiosity, it was hard to tell with
Magnus. Magnus told him that though the Angel had healed Jace physically, it seemed that his spirit and mind had been exhausted to the point that only rest could heal them.
In any event, he felt better now. Just in time for the funeral.
A wind had come up and was blowing the smoke away from him.
In the distance he could see the glimmering towers of Alicante,

their former glory restored. He wasnt totally sure what he hoped to accomplish by sitting here and watching his fathers body burn, or what he would say if he were down there among the mourners, speaking their last words to Valentine. You were never really my father, he might say, or You were the only father I ever knew. Both statements were equally true, no matter how contradictory. When hed first opened his eyes at the lakeknowing, somehow, that hed

been dead, and now wasntall Jace could think about was Clary, lying a little distance away from him on the bloody sand, her eyes closed. Hed scrambled to her in a near panic, thinking she might be hurt, or even deadand when shed opened her eyes, all hed been able to think about then was that she wasnt. Not until there were others there, helping him to his feet, exclaiming over the scene in amazement, did he see Valentines body lying crumpled near the lakes edge and feel the

force of it like a punch in the stomach. Hed known Valentine was deadwould have killed him himselfbut still, somehow, the sight was painful. Clary had looked at
Jace with sad eyes, and hed known that even though shed hated
Valentine and had never had any reason not to, she still felt Jaces loss. He half-closed his eyes and a flood of images washed across the backs of his eyelids: Valentine picking him up off the grass in a sweeping

hug, Valentine holding him steady in the prow of a boat on a lake, showing him how to balance. And other, darker memories: Valentines hand cracking across the side of his face, a dead falcon, the angel shackled in the Waylands cellar.
Jace.
He looked up. Luke was standing over him, a black silhouette outlined by the sun. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt as usualno concessionary funeral white for him. Its over, Luke said. The

ceremony. It was brief.
Im sure it was. Jace dug his fingers into the ground beside him, welcoming the painful scrape of dirt against his fingertips. Did anyone say anything?
Just the usual words. Luke eased himself down onto the ground beside Jace, wincing a little. Jace hadnt asked him what the battle had been like; he hadnt really wanted to know. He knew it had been over much quicker than anyone had expectedafter Valentines death, the

demons he had summoned had fled into the night like so much mist burned off by the sun. But that didnt mean there hadnt been deaths.
Valentines hadnt been the only body burned in Alicante these past days.
And Clary wasn t I mean, she didn t
Come to the funeral? No. She didnt want to. Jace could feel Luke looking at him sideways. You haven t seen her? Not since
No, not since the lake, Jace said.
This was the first time they let me leave the hospital, and I had to

come here.
You didnt have to, Luke said. You could have stayed away.
I wanted to, Jace admitted.
Whatever that says about me.
Funerals are for the living, Jace, not for the dead. Valentine was more your father than Clarys, even if you didnt share blood. Youre the one who has to say good-bye. Youre the one who will miss him.
I didnt think I was allowed to miss him. You never knew
Stephen

Herondale, said Luke. And you came to Robert Lightwood when you were only barely still a child.
Valentine was the father of your childhood. You should miss him.
I keep thinking about Hodge, Jace said. Up at the Gard, I kept asking him why hed never told me what I wasI still thought I was part demon thenand he kept saying it was because he didnt know. I just thought he was lying. But now I think he meant it. He was one of the only people who ever even knew

there was a Herondale baby that had lived. When I showed up at the
Institute, he had no idea which of
Valentines sons I was. The real one or the adopted one. And I could have been either. The demon or the angel. And the thing is, I dont think he ever knew, not until he saw
Jonathan at the Gard and realized.
So he just tried to do his best by me all those years anyway, until
Valentine showed up again. That took a sort of faith don t you think?
Yes, Luke said. I think so.

Hodge said he thought maybe upbringing might make a difference, regardless of blood. I just keep thinkingif Id stayed with Valentine, if he hadnt sent me to the
Lightwoods, would I have been just like Jonathan? Is that how Id be now? Does it matter? said Luke. You are who you are now for a reason. And if you ask me, I think Valentine sent you to the Lightwoods because he knew it was the best chance for you.
Maybe he had other reasons too.

But you cant get away from the fact that he sent you to people he knew would love you and raise you with love. It might have been one of the few things he ever really did for someone else. He clapped Jace on the shoulder, a gesture so paternal that it almost made Jace smile. I wouldnt forget about that, if I were you. Clary, standing and looking out
Isabelles window, watched smoke stain the sky over Alicante like a smudged hand against a window.
They were burning Valentine today, she knew; burning her father, in the necropolis just outside the gates.
You know about the celebration tonight, dont you? Clary turned to see Isabelle, behind her, holding up two dresses against herself, one blue and one steel gray. What do you think I should wear?
For Isabelle, Clary thought, clothes

would always be therapy. The blue one. Isabelle laid the dresses down on the bed. What are you going to wear? You are going, aren t you?
Clary thought of the silver dress at the bottom of Amatiss chest, the lovely gossamer of it. But Amatis would probably never let her wear it. I dont know, she said. Probably jeans and my green coat.
Boring, Isabelle said. She glanced over at Aline, who was sitting in a

chair by the bed, reading. Dont you think it s boring?
I think you should let Clary wear what she wants. Aline didnt look up from her book. Besides, its not like she s dressing up for anyone.
Shes dressing up for Jace, Isabelle said, as if this were obvious. As well she should.
Aline looked up, blinking in confusion, then smiled. Oh, right. I keep forgetting. It must be weird, right, knowing hes not your brother?
No, Clary said firmly. Thinking he

was my brother was weird. This feelsright. She looked back toward the window. Not that I ve really seen him since I found out. Not since we ve been back in Alicante.
That s strange, said Aline.
Its not strange, Isabelle said, shooting Aline a meaningful look, which Aline didnt seem to notice.
Hes been in the hospital. He only got out today.
And he didnt come to see you right away? Aline asked Clary.
He couldnt, Clary said. He had

Valentines funeral to go to. He couldn t miss that.
Maybe, said Aline cheerfully. Or maybe hes not that interested in you anymore. I mean, now that its not forbidden. Some people only want what they can t have.
Not Jace, Isabelle said quickly.
Jace isn t like that.
Aline stood up, dropping her book onto the bed. I should go get dressed. See you guys tonight? And with that, she wandered out of the room, humming to herself.

Isabelle, watching her go, shook her head. Do you think she doesnt like you? she said. I mean, is she jealous? She did seem interested in
Jace.
Ha! Clary was briefly amused. No, shes not interested in Jace. I think shes just one of those people who say whatever theyre thinking whenever they think it. And who knows, maybe she s right.
Isabelle pulled the pin from her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders. She came across the

room and joined Clary at the window. The sky was clear now past the demon towers; the smoke was gone. Do you think she s right?
I dont know. Ill have to ask Jace. I guess I ll see him tonight at the party.
Or the victory celebration or whatever its called. She looked up at Isabelle. Do you know what itll be like?
Therell be a parade, Isabelle said, and fireworks, probably. Music, dancing, games, that sort of thing.
Like a big street fair in New York.

She glanced out the window, her expression wistful. Max would have loved it.
Clary reached out and stroked
Isabelles hair, the way shed stroke the hair of her own sister if she had one. I know he would.

Jace had to knock twice at the door of the old canal house before he heard quick footsteps hurrying to

answer; his heart jumped, and then settled as the door opened and
Amatis Herondale stood on the threshold, looking at him in surprise. She looked as if shed been getting ready for the celebration:
She wore a long dove gray dress and pale metallic earrings that picked out the silvery streaks in her graying hair. Yes?
Clary, he began, and stopped, unsure what exactly to say. Where had his eloquence gone? Hed always had that, even when he hadn t

had anything else, but now he felt as if hed been ripped open and all the clever, facile words had poured out of him, leaving him empty. I was wondering if Clary was here. I was hoping to talk to her.
Amatis shook her head. The blankness had gone from her expression, and she was looking at him intently enough to make him nervous. Shes not. I think shes with the Lightwoods.
Oh. He was surprised at how disappointed he felt. Sorry to have

bothered you.
Its no bother. Im glad youre here, actually, she said briskly. There was something I wanted to talk to you about. Come into the hall; Ill be right back.
Jace stepped inside as she disappeared down the hallway. He wondered what on earth she could have to talk to him about. Maybe
Clary had decided she wanted nothing more to do with him and had chosen Amatis to deliver the message. Amatis was back in a moment. She wasnt holding anything that looked like a noteto Jaces reliefbut rather she was clutching a small metal box in her hands. It was a delicate object, chased with a design of birds. Jace, Amatis said. Luke told me that youre Stephensthat Stephen
Herondale was your father. He told me everything that happened.
Jace nodded, which was all he felt called on to do. The news was leaking out slowly, which was how he liked it; hopefully hed be back in

New York before everyone in Idris knew and was constantly staring at him. You know I was married to Stephen before your mother was, Amatis went on, her voice tight, as if the words hurt to say. Jace stared at herwas this about his mother? Did she resent him for bringing up bad memories of a woman whod died before he was ever born? Of all the people alive today, I probably knew your father best.
Yes, Jace said, wishing he were

elsewhere. I m sure that s true.
I know you probably have feelings about him that are very mixed, she said, surprising him mainly because it was true. You never knew him, and he wasnt the man who raised you, but you look like himexcept for your eyes, those are your mothers.
And maybe Im being crazy, bothering you with this. Maybe you dont really want to know about
Stephen at all. But he was your father, and if hed known you She thrust the box at him then, nearly

making him jump back. These are some things of his that I saved over the years. Letters he wrote, photographs, a family tree. His witchlight stone. Maybe you dont have questions now, but someday perhaps you will, and when you dowhen you do, youll have this. She stood still, giving him the box as if she were offering him a precious treasure. Jace reached out and took it from her without a word; it was heavy, and the metal was cold against his skin.

Thank you, he said. It was the best he could do. He hesitated, and then said, There is one thing. Something
I ve been wondering.
Yes?
If Stephen was my father, then the
InquisitorImogenwas
my grandmother. She was Amatis paused. A very difficult woman. But yes, she was your grandmother.
She saved my life, said Jace. I mean, for a long time she acted like she hated my guts. But then she saw

this. He drew the collar of his shirt aside, showing Amatis the white star-shaped scar on his shoulder.
And she saved my life. But what could my scar possibly mean to her? Amatiss eyes had gone wide. You dont remember getting that scar, do you? Jace shook his head. Valentine told me it was an injury from when I was too young to remember, but now I don t think I believe him.
Its not a scar. Its a birthmark.

Theres an old family legend about it, that one of the first Herondales to become a Shadowhunter was visited by an angel in a dream. The angel touched him on the shoulder, and when he woke up, he had a mark like that. And all his descendants have it as well. She shrugged. I dont know if the story is true, but all the Herondales have the mark. Your father had one too, here.
She touched her right upper arm.
They say it means you ve had contact with an angel. That youre blessed,

in some way. Imogen must have seen the Mark and guessed who you really were.
Jace stared at Amatis, but he wasnt seeing her: He was seeing that night on the ship; the wet, black deck and the Inquisitor dying at his feet. She said something to me, he said.
While she was dying. She said,
Your father would be proud of you.
I thought she was being cruel. I thought she meant Valentine .
Amatis shook her head. She meant
Stephen, she said softly. And she

was right. He would have been.

Clary pushed open Amatiss front door and stepped inside, thinking how quickly the house had become familiar to her. She no longer had to strain to remember the way to the front door, or the way the knob stuck slightly as she pushed it open.
The glint of sunlight off the canal was familiar, as was the view of

Alicante through the window. She could almost imagine living here, almost imagine what it would be like if Idris were home. She wondered what shed start missing first. Chinese takeout? Movies?
Midtown Comics?
She was about to head for the stairs when she heard her mothers voice from the living roomsharp, and slightly agitated. But what could
Jocelyn have to be upset about?
Everything was fine now, wasnt it?
Without thinking, Clary dropped

back against the wall near the living room door and listened.
What do you mean, youre staying?
Jocelyn was saying. You mean youre not coming back to New York at all?
Ive been asked to remain in
Alicante
and represent the werewolves on the Council, Luke said. I told them Id let them know tonight. Couldnt someone else do that? One of the pack leaders here in Idris?
Im the only pack leader who was

once a Shadowhunter. Thats why they want me. He sighed. I started all this, Jocelyn. I should stay here and see it out.
There was a short silence. If thats how you feel, then of course you should stay, Jocelyn said at last, but her voice didn t sound sure.
Ill have to sell the bookstore. Get my affairs in order. Luke sounded gruff. Its not like Ill be moving right away. I can take care of that. After everything youve done Jocelyn

didnt seem to have the energy to maintain her bright tone. Her voice trailed off into silence, a silence that stretched out so long that Clary thought about clearing her throat and walking into the living room to let them know she was there.
A moment later she was glad she hadnt. Look, Luke said, Ive wanted to tell you this for a long time, but I didnt. I knew it would never matter, even if I did say it, because of what
I am. You never wanted that to be part of Clarys life. But she knows

now, so I guess it doesnt make a difference. And I might as well tell you. I love you, Jocelyn. I have for twenty years. He paused. Clary strained to hear her mothers response, but Jocelyn was silent. At last Luke spoke again, his voice heavy. I have to get back to the
Council and tell them Ill stay. We dont ever have to talk about this again. I just feel better having said it after all this time.
Clary pressed herself back against the wall as Luke, his head down,

stalked out of the living room. He brushed by her without seeming to see her at all and yanked the front door open. He stood there for a moment, staring blindly out at the sunshine bouncing off the water of the canal. Then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
Clary stood where she was, her back against the wall. She felt terribly sad for Luke, and terribly sad for her mother, too. It looked like Jocelyn really didnt love Luke, and maybe never could. It was just

like it had been for her and Simon, except she didnt see any way that
Luke and her mother could fix things. Not if he was going to stay here in Idris. Tears stung her eyes.
She was about to turn and go into the living room when she heard the sound of the kitchen door opening and another voice. This one sounded tired, and a little resigned.
Amatis.
Sorry I overheard that, but Im glad hes staying, Lukes sister said. Not just because hell be near me but

because it gives him a chance to get over you.
Jocelyn sounded defensive. Amatis
Its been a long time, Jocelyn,
Amatis said. If you dont love him, you ought to let him go.
Jocelyn was silent. Clary wished she could see her mothers expressiondid she look sad? Angry?
Resigned?
Amatis gave a little gasp. Unless you do love him?
Amatis, I can t
You do! You do! There was a sharp

sound, as if Amatis had clapped her hands together. I knew you did! I always knew it!
It doesnt matter. Jocelyn sounded tired. It wouldn t be fair to Luke.
I dont want to hear it. There was a rustling noise, and Jocelyn made a sound of protest. Clary wondered if
Amatis had actually grabbed hold of her mother. If you love him, you go right now and tell him. Right now, before he goes to the Council.
But they want him to be their
Council member! And he wants to

All Lucian wants, said Amatis firmly, is you. You and Clary. Thats all he ever wanted. Now go.
Before Clary had a chance to move,
Jocelyn dashed out into the hallway.
She headed toward the door and saw
Clary, flattened against the wall.
Halting, she opened her mouth in surprise. Clary! She sounded as if she were trying to make her voice bright and cheerful, and failing miserably. I didn t realize you were here.
Clary stepped away from the wall,

grabbed hold of the doorknob, and threw the door wide open. Bright sunlight poured into the hall.
Jocelyn stood blinking in the harsh illumination, her eyes on her daughter. If you dont go after Luke, Clary said, enunciating very clearly, I, personally, will kill you.
For a moment Jocelyn looked astonished. Then she smiled. Well, she said, if you put it like that.
A moment later she was out of the house, hurrying down the canal path

toward the Accords Hall. Clary shut the door behind her and leaned against it.
Amatis, emerging from the living room, darted past her to lean on the windowsill, glancing anxiously out through the pane. Do you think shell catch him before he gets to the
Hall?
My moms spent her whole life chasing me around, Clary said. She moves fast.
Amatis glanced toward her and smiled. Oh, that reminds me, she

said. Jace stopped by to see you. I think hes hoping to see you at the celebration tonight.
Is he? Clary said thoughtfully.
Might as well ask. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Amatis, she said, and Lukes sister turned away from the window, looking at her curiously.
Yes?
That silver dress of yours, in the trunk, said Clary. Can I borrow it?

The streets were already beginning to fill with people as Clary walked back through the city toward the
Lightwoods house. It was twilight, and the lights were beginning to go on, filling the air with a pale glow.
Bunches of familiar-looking white flowers hung from baskets on the walls, filling the air with their spicy smells. Dark gold fire-runes burned on the doors of the houses she passed; the runes spoke of victory

and rejoicing.
There were Shadowhunters out in the streets. None were wearing gearthey were in a variety of finery, from the modern to what bordered on historical costumery. It was an unusually warm night, so few people were wearing coats, but there were plenty of women in what looked to Clary like ball gowns, their full skirts sweeping the streets.
A slim dark figure cut across the road ahead of her as she turned onto the Lightwoods street, and she saw

that it was Raphael, hand in hand with a tall dark-haired woman in a red cocktail dress. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Clary, a smile that sent a little shiver over her, and she thought that it was true that there really was something alien about
Downworlders
sometimes, something alien and frightening. Perhaps it was just that everything that was frightening wasn t necessarily also bad.
Although, she had her doubts about
Raphael.

The front door of the Lightwoods house was open, and several of the family were already standing out on the pavement. Maryse and Robert
Lightwood were there, chatting with two other adults; when they turned,
Clary saw with slight surprise that it was the Penhallows, Alines parents. Maryse smiled at her past them; she was elegant in a dark blue silk suit, her hair tied back from her severe face with a thick silver band.
She looked like Isabelleso much so that Clary wanted to reach out and

put a hand on her shoulder. Maryse still seemed so sad, even as she smiled, and Clary thought, She s remembering Max, just like
Isabelle was, and thinking how much he would have liked all this.
Clary! Isabelle bounded down the front steps, her dark hair flying behind her. She was wearing neither of the outfits shed showed to
Clary earlier, but an incredible gold satin dress that hugged her body like the closed petals of a flower. Her shoes were spiked sandals, and

Clary remembered what Isabelle had once said about how she liked her heels, and laughed to herself.
You look fantastic.
Thanks. Clary tugged a little selfconsciously at the diaphanous material of the silver dress. It was probably the girliest thing shed ever worn. It left her shoulders uncovered, and every time she felt the ends of her hair tickle the bare skin there, she had to quell the urge to hunt for a cardigan or hoodie to wrap herself in. You too.

Isabelle bent over to whisper in her ear. Jace isn t here.
Clary pulled back. Then where ?
Alec says he might be at the square, where the fireworks are going to be.
Im sorryI have no idea whats up with him.
Clary shrugged, trying to hide her disappointment. It s okay.
Alec and Aline tumbled out of the house after Isabelle, Aline in a bright red dress that made her hair look shockingly black. Alec had dressed like he usually did, in a

sweater and dark pants, though
Clary had to admit that at least the sweater didnt appear to have any visible holes in it. He smiled at
Clary, and she thought, with surprise, that actually he did look different. Lighter somehow, as if a weight were off his shoulders.
Ive never been to a celebration that had Downworlders at it before, said Aline, looking nervously down the street, where a faerie girl whose long hair was braided with flowersno, Clary thought, her hair

was flowers, connected by delicate green tendrilswas plucking some of the white blossoms out of a hanging basket, looking at them thoughtfully, and eating them.
Youll love it, Isabelle said. They know how to party. She waved good-bye to her parents and they set off toward the plaza, Clary still fighting the urge to cover the top half of her body by crossing her arms over her chest. The dress swirled out around her feet like smoke curling on the wind. She

thought of the smoke that had risen over Alicante earlier that day, and shivered. Hey! Isabelle said, and Clary looked up to see Simon and Maia coming toward them up the street.
She hadnt seen Simon for most of the day; hed gone down to the Hall to observe the preliminary Council meeting because, he said, he was curious who theyd choose to hold the vampires Council seat. Clary couldnt imagine Maia wearing anything as girly as a dress, and

indeed she was clad in low-slung camo pants and a black T-shirt that said CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON and had a design of dice under the words. It was a gamer tee, Clary thought, wondering if Maia was really a gamer or was wearing the
T-shirt to impress Simon. If so, it was a good choice. You heading back down to Angel Square?
Maia and Simon acknowledged that they were, and they headed toward the Hall together in a companionable group. Simon

dropped back to fall into step beside Clary, and they walked together in silence. It was good just to be close to Simon againhe had been the first person shed wanted to see once she was back in Alicante.
Shed hugged him very tightly, glad he was alive, and touched the Mark on his forehead.
Did it save you? shed asked, desperate to hear that she hadnt done what she had to him for no reason. It saved me, was all hed said in

reply.
I wish I could take it off you, shed said. I wish I knew what might happen to you because of it.
Hed taken hold of her wrist and drawn her hand gently back down to her side. Well wait, hed said. And we ll see.
Shed been watching him closely, but she had to admit that the Mark didnt seem to be affecting him in any visible way. He seemed just as he always had. Just like Simon.
Only hed taken to brushing his hair

slightly differently, to cover the
Mark; if you didnt already know it was there, you d never guess.
How was the meeting? Clary asked him now, giving him a once-over to see if hed dressed up for the celebration. He hadnt, but she hardly blamed himthe jeans and Tshirt he had on were all he had to wear. Who d they choose?
Not Raphael, Simon said, sounding as if he were pleased about it. Some other vampire. He had a pretentious name. Nightshade or something.

You know, they asked me if I wanted to draw the symbol of the
New Council, Clary said. Its an honor. I said Id do it. Its going to have the rune of the Council surrounded by the symbols of the four Downworlder families. A moon for the werewolves, and I was thinking a four-leaf clover for the faeries. A spell book for the warlocks. But I cant think of anything for the vampires.
How about a fang? Simon suggested. Maybe dripping blood.

He bared his teeth.
Thank you, Clary said. Thats very helpful. Im glad they asked you, Simon said, more seriously. You deserve the honor. You deserve a medal, really, for what you did. The Alliance rune and everything.
Clary shrugged. I dont know. I mean, the battle barely went on for ten minutes, after all that. I dont know how much I helped.
I was in that battle, Clary, Simon said. It may have been about ten

minutes long, but it was the worst ten minutes of my life. And I dont really want to talk about it. But I will say that even in that ten minutes, there would have been a lot more death if it hadnt been for you. Besides, the battle was only part of it. If you hadnt done what you did, there would be no New
Council.
We would be
Shadowhunters and Downworlders, hating each other, instead of
Shadowhunters and Downworlders, going to a party together.

Clary felt a lump rising in her throat and stared straight ahead, willing herself not to tear up. Thanks,
Simon. She hesitated, so briefly that no one who wasnt Simon would have noticed it. But he did.
What s wrong? he asked her.
I m just wondering what we do when we get back home, she said. I mean,
I know Magnus took care of your mom so she hasnt been freaking out that youre gone, butschool. Weve missed a ton of it. And I dont even know Youre not going back, Simon said quietly. You think I dont know that?
Youre a Shadowhunter now. Youll finish up your education at the
Institute.
And what about you? Youre a vampire. Are you just going to go back to high school?
Yeah, Simon said, surprising her. I am. I want a normal life, as much as
I can have one. I want high school, and college, and all of that.
She squeezed his hand. Then you should have it. She smiled up at

him. Of course, everyones going to freak out when you show up at school. Freak out? Why?
Because youre so much hotter now than when you left. She shrugged. It s true. Must be a vampire thing.
Simon looked baffled. Im hotter now? Sure you are. I mean, look at those two. Theyre both totally into you.
She pointed to a few feet in front of them, where Isabelle and Maia had moved to walk side by side, their

heads bent together.
Simon looked up ahead at the girls.
Clary could almost swear he was blushing. Are they? Sometimes they get together and whisper and stare at me. I have no idea what its about.
Sure you dont. Clary grinned. Poor you, you have two cute girls vying for your love. Your life is hard.
Fine. You tell me which one to choose, then.
No way. Thats on you. She lowered her voice again. Look, you can date whoever you want and I will totally

support you. I am all about support.
Support is my middle name.
S o that s why you never told me your middle name. I figured it was something embarrassing.
Clary ignored this. But just promise me something, okay? I know how girls get. I know how they hate their boyfriends having a best friend whos a girl. Just promise me you wont cut me out of your life totally.
That we can still hang out sometimes. Sometimes? Simon shook his head.

Clary, you re crazy.
Her heart sank. You mean
I mean that I would never date a girl who insisted that I cut you out of my life. Its non-negotiable. You want a piece of all this fabulousness? He gestured at himself. Well, my best friend comes along with it. I wouldnt cut you out of my life, Clary, any more than I would cut off my right hand and give it to someone as a Valentines
Day gift.
Gross, said Clary. Must you?

He grinned. I must.

Angel
Square
was almost unrecognizable. The Hall glowed white at the far end of the plaza, partly obscured by an elaborate forest of huge trees that had sprung up in the center of the square. They were clearly the product of magicalthough, Clary thought, remembering Magnuss ability to

whisk furniture and cups of coffee across Manhattan at the blink of an eye, maybe they were real, if transplanted. The trees rose nearly to the height of the demon towers, their silvery trunks wrapped with ribbons, colored lights caught in the whispering green nets of their branches. The square smelled of white flowers, smoke, and leaves.
All around its edges were placed tables and long benches, and groups of Shadowhunters and Downworlders crowded around

them, laughing and drinking and talking. Yet despite the laughter, there was a somberness mixed with the air of celebrationa present sorrow side by side with joy.
The stores that lined the square had their doors thrown open, light spilling out onto the pavement.
Partygoers streamed by, carrying plates of food and long-stemmed glasses of wine and brightly colored liquids. Simon watched a kelpie skip past, carrying a glass of blue fluid, and raised an eyebrow.

Its not like Magnuss party, Isabelle reassured him. Everything here ought to be safe to drink.
Ought to be? Aline looked worried.
Alec glanced toward the miniforest, the colored lights reflecting in the blue irises of his eyes.
Magnus stood in the shadow of a tree, talking to a girl in a white dress with a cloud of pale brown hair. She turned as Magnus looked toward them, and Clary locked eyes with her for a moment across the distance that separated them. There

was something familiar about her, though Clary couldn t have said what it was.
Magnus broke away and came toward them, and the girl hed been talking to slipped into the shadows of the trees and was gone. He was dressed like a Victorian gentleman, in a long black frock coat over a violet silk vest. A square pocket handkerchief embroidered with the initials M.B. protruded from his vest pocket.
Nice vest, said Alec with a smile.

Would you like one exactly like it?
Magnus inquired. In any color you prefer, of course.
I dont really care about clothes,
Alex protested.
And I love that about you, Magnus announced, though I would also love you if you owned, perhaps, one designer suit. What do you say?
Dolce? Zegna? Armani?
Alec sputtered as Isabelle laughed, and Magnus took the opportunity to lean close to Clary and whisper in her ear. The Accords Hall steps.

Go.
She wanted to ask him what he meant, but hed already turned back to Alec and the others. Besides, she had a feeling she knew. She squeezed Simons wrist as she went, and he turned to smile at her before returning to his conversation with
Maia.
She cut through the edge of the glamour forest to cross the square, weaving in and out of the shadows.
The trees reached up to the foot of the Hall stairs, which was probably

why the steps were almost deserted.
Though not entirely. Glancing toward the doors, Clary could make out a familiar dark outline, seated in the shadow of a pillar. Her heart quickened. Jace.
She had to gather her skirt up in her hands to climb the stairs, afraid shed step on and tear the delicate material. She almost wished she had worn her normal clothes as she approached Jace, who was sitting with his back to a pillar, staring out

over the square. He wore his most mundane clothesjeans, a white shirt, and a dark jacket over them. And for almost the first time since shed met him, she thought, he didnt seem to be carrying any weapons.
She abruptly felt overdressed. She stopped a slight distance away from him, suddenly unsure what to say.
As if sensing her there, Jace looked up. He was holding something balanced in his lap, she saw, a silvery box. He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes, and

his pale gold hair was untidy. His eyes widened. Clary?
Who else would it be?
He didnt smile. You dont look like you. Its the dress. She smoothed her hands down the material selfconsciously. I dont usually wear things this pretty.
You always look beautiful, he said, and she remembered the first time hed called her beautiful, in the greenhouse at the Institute. He hadnt said it like it was a compliment, but

just as if it were an accepted fact, like the fact that she had red hair and liked to draw. But you lookdistant. Like I couldnt touch you. She came over then and sat down next to him on the wide top step.
The stone was cold through the material of her dress. She held her hand out to him; it was shaking slightly, just enough to be visible.
Touch me, she said. If you want to.
He took her hand and laid it against his cheek for a moment. Then he set

it back down in her lap. Clary shivered a little, remembering
Alines words back in Isabelles bedroom. Maybe hes not interested anymore, now that its not forbidden. He had said she looked distant, but the expression in his eyes was as remote as a faraway galaxy. Whats in the box? she asked. He was still clutching the silver rectangle tightly in one hand. It was an expensive-looking object, delicately carved with a pattern of

birds.
I went to Amatiss earlier today, looking for you, he said. But you werent there. So I talked to Amatis.
She gave me this. He indicated the box. It belonged to my father.
For a moment she just looked at him uncomprehendingly. This was Valentine s? she thought, and then, with a jolt, No, thats not what he means. Of course, she said. Amatis was married to Stephen Herondale.
Ive been going through it, he said.
Reading the letters, the journal

pages. I thought if I did that, I might feel some sort of connection to him.
Something that would leap off the pages at me, saying, Yes, this is your father. But I dont feel anything. Just bits of paper. Anyone could have written these things.
Jace, she said softly.
And thats another thing, he said. I dont have a name anymore, do I? Im not Jonathan Christopherthat was someone else. But its the name Im used to.
Who came up with Jace as a

nickname? Did you come up with it yourself? Jace shook his head. No. Valentine always called me Jonathan. And thats what they called me when I first got to the Institute. I was never supposed to think my name was
Jonathan Christopher, you knowthat was an accident. I got the name out of my fathers journal, but it wasnt me he was talking about. It wasnt my progress he was recording. It was SebIt was Jonathans. So the first time I ever told Maryse that my

middle name was Christopher, she told herself that shed just remembered wrong, and Christopher had been Michael s son s middle name. It had been ten years, after all. But that was when she started calling me Jace: It was like she wanted to give me a new name, something that belonged to her, to my life in New York. And I liked it.
Id never liked Jonathan. He turned the box over in his hands. I wonder if maybe Maryse knew, or guessed, but just didnt want to know. She

loved meand she didnt want to believe it.
Which is why she was so upset when she found out you were
Valentines son, said Clary. Because she thought she ought to have known. She kind of did know. But we never do want to believe things like that about people we love.
And, Jace, she was right about you.
She was right about who you really are. And you do have a name. Your name is Jace. Valentine didnt give that name to you. Maryse did. The

only thing that makes a name important, and yours, is that its given to you by someone who loves you. Jace what? he said. Jace
Herondale?
Oh, please, she said. Youre Jace
Lightwood. You know that.
He raised his eyes to hers. His lashes shadowed them thickly, darkening the gold. She thought he looked a little less remote, though perhaps she was imagining it.
Maybe youre a different person than

you thought you were, she went on, hoping against hope that he understood what she meant. But no one becomes a totally different person overnight. Just finding out that Stephen was your biological father isnt going to automatically make you love him. And you dont have to. Valentine wasnt your real father, but not because you dont have his blood in your veins. He wasnt your real father because he didn t act like a father. He didnt take care of you. Its always been the

Lightwoods who have taken care of you. They re your family. Just like
Mom and Luke are mine. She reached to touch his shoulder, then drew her hand back. Im sorry, she said. Here I am lecturing you, and you probably came up here to be alone. You re right, he said.
Clary felt the breath go out of her.
All right, then. Ill go. She stood up, forgetting to hold her dress up, and nearly stepped on the hem.
Clary! Setting the box down, Jace

scrambled to his feet. Clary, wait.
That wasnt what I meant. I didnt mean I wanted to be alone. I meant you were right about Valentineabout the Lightwoods
She turned and looked at him. He was standing half in and half out of the shadows, the bright, colored lights of the party below casting strange patterns across his skin. She thought of the first time shed seen him. Shed thought he looked like a lion. Beautiful and deadly. He looked different to her now. That

hard, defensive casing he wore like armor was gone, and he wore his injuries instead, visibly and proudly. He hadnt even used his stele to take away the bruises on his face, along the line of his jaw, at his throat where the skin showed above the collar of his shirt. But he looked beautiful to her still, more than before, because now he seemed human human, and real.
You know, she said, Aline said maybe you wouldnt be interested anymore. Now that it isn t

forbidden. Now that you could be with me if you wanted to. She shivered a little in the flimsy dress, gripping her elbows with her hands.
Is that true? Are you not interested?
Interested? As if you were a a book, or a piece of news? No, Im not interested. I m He broke off, groping for the word the way someone might grope for a light switch in the dark.
Do you remember what I said to you before? About feeling like the fact that you were my sister was a sort of cosmic joke on me? On both of

us?
I remember.
I never believed it, he said. I mean,
I believed it in a wayI let it drive me to despair, but I never felt it.
Never felt you were my sister.
Because I didnt feel about you the way youre supposed to feel about your sister. But that didnt mean I didnt feel like you were a part of me. Ive always felt that. Seeing her puzzled expression, he broke off with an impatient noise. Im not saying this right. Clary, I hated

every second that I thought you were my sister. I hated every moment that I thought what I felt for you meant there was something wrong with me. But
But what? Clarys heart was beating so hard it was making her feel more than a little dizzy.
I could see the delight Valentine took in the way I felt about you. The way you felt about me. He used it as a weapon against us. And that made me hate him. More than anything else hed ever done to me, that made

me hate him, and it made me turn against him, and maybe thats what I needed to do. Because there were times I didnt know if I wanted to follow him or not. It was a hard choiceharder than I like to remember. His voice sounded tight.
I asked you if I had a choice once,
Clary reminded him. And you said,
We always have choices. You chose against Valentine. In the end that was the choice you made, and it doesnt matter how hard it was to make it. It matters that you did.

I know, Jace said. Im just saying that I think I chose the way I did in part because of you. Since Ive met you, everything I ve done has been in part because of you. I cant untie myself from you, Clarynot my heart or my blood or my mind or any other part of me. And I don t want to.
You don t? she whispered.
He took a step toward her. His gaze was fastened on her face, as if he couldnt look away. I always thought love made you stupid. Made you weak. A bad Shadowhunter. To

love is to destroy. I believed that.
She bit her lip, but she couldnt look away from him, either.
I used to think being a good warrior meant not caring, he said. About anything, myself especially. I took every risk I could. I flung myself in the path of demons. I think I gave
Alec a complex about what kind of fighter he was, just because he wanted to live. Jace smiled unevenly. And then I met you. You were a mundane. Weak. Not a fighter. Never trained. And then I

saw how much you loved your mother, loved Simon, and how youd walk into hell to save them. You did walk into that vampire hotel.
Shadowhunters with a decade of experience wouldnt have tried that.
Love didnt make you weak, it made you stronger than anyone Id ever met. And I realized I was the one who was weak.
No. She was shocked. You re not.
Maybe not anymore. He took another step, and now he was close enough to touch her. Valentine

couldnt believe Id killed Jonathan, he said. Couldnt believe it because
I was the weak one, and Jonathan was the one with more training. By all rights he probably should have killed me. He nearly did. But I thought of youI saw you there, clearly, as if you were standing in front of me, watching me, and I knew I wanted to live, wanted it more than Id ever wanted anything, if only so that I could see your face one more time.
She wished she could move, wished

she could reach out and touch him, but she couldn t. Her arms felt frozen at her sides. His face was close to hers, so close that she could see her own reflection in the pupils of his eyes. And now Im looking at you, he said, and youre asking me if I still want you, as if I could stop loving you.
As if I would want to give up the thing that makes me stronger than anything else ever has. I never dared give much of myself to anyone beforebits of myself to the

Lightwoods, to Isabelle and Alec, but it took years to do itbut, Clary, since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely. I still do. If you want me.
For a split second longer she stood motionless. Then, somehow, she had caught at the front of his shirt and pulled him toward her. His arms went around her, lifting her almost out of her sandals, and then he was kissing heror she was kissing him, she wasnt sure, and it didnt matter. The feel of his mouth

on hers was electric; her hands gripped his arms, pulling him hard against her. The feel of his heart pounding through his shirt made her dizzy with joy. No one elses heart beat like Jace s did, or ever could.
He let her go at last and she gaspedshed forgotten to breathe. He cupped her face between his hands, tracing the curve of her cheekbones with his fingers. The light was back in his eyes, as bright as it had been by the lake, but now there was a wicked sparkle to it. There, he said.

That wasnt so bad, was it, even though it wasn t forbidden?
Ive had worse, she said, with a shaky laugh.
You know, he said, bending to brush his mouth across hers, if its the lack of forbidden youre worried about, you could still forbid me to do things.
What kinds of things?
She felt him smile against her mouth. Things like this.

After some time they came down the stairs and into the square, where a crowd had begun to gather in anticipation of the fireworks.
Isabelle and the others had found a table near the corner of the square and were crowded around it on benches and chairs. As they approached the group, Clary prepared to draw her hand out of
Jacesand then stopped herself. They could hold hands if they wanted to.

There was nothing wrong with it.
The thought almost took her breath away. Youre here! Isabelle danced up to them in delight, carrying a glass of fuchsia liquid, which she thrust at
Clary. Have some of this!
Clary squinted at it. Is it going to turn me into a rodent?
Where is the trust? I think its strawberry juice, Isabelle said.
Anyway, its yummy. Jace? She offered him the glass.
I am a man, he told her, and men do

not consume pink beverages. Get thee gone, woman, and bring me something brown.
Brown? Isabelle made a face.
Brown is a manly color, said Jace, and yanked on a stray lock of
Isabelles hair with his free hand. In fact, look Alec is wearing it.
Alec looked mournfully down at his sweater. It was black, he said. But then it faded.
You could dress it up with a sequined headband,
Magnus
suggested, offering his boyfriend

something blue and sparkly. Just a thought. Resist the urge, Alec. Simon was sitting on the edge of a low wall with Maia beside him, though she appeared to be deep in conversation with Aline. Youll look like Olivia
Newton-John in Xanadu.
There are worse things, Magnus observed. Simon detached himself from the wall and came over to Clary and
Jace. With his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, he regarded

them thoughtfully for a long moment.
At last he spoke.
You look happy, he said to Clary.
He swiveled his gaze to Jace. And a good thing for you that she does.
Jace raised an eyebrow. Is this the part where you tell me that if I hurt her, you ll kill me?
No, said Simon. If you hurt Clary, shes quite capable of killing you herself. Possibly with a variety of weapons. Jace looked pleased by the thought.
Look, Simon said. I just wanted to

say that its okay if you dislike me. If you make Clary happy, Im fine with you. He stuck his hand out, and Jace took his own hand out of Clarys and shook Simons, a bemused look on his face.
I dont dislike you, he said. In fact, because I actually do like you, Im going to offer you some advice.
Advice? Simon looked wary.
I see that you are working this vampire angle with some success,
Jace said, indicating Isabelle and
Maia with a nod of his head. And

kudos. Lots of girls love that sensitive-undead thing. But Id drop that whole musician angle if I were you. Vampire rock stars are played out, and besides, you cant possibly be very good.
Simon sighed. I dont suppose theres any chance you could reconsider the part where you didn t like me?
Enough, both of you, Clary said.
You cant be complete jerks to each other forever, you know.
Technically, said Simon, I can.
Jace made an inelegant noise; after

a moment Clary realized that he was trying not to laugh, and only semisucceeding.
Simon grinned. Got you.
Well, Clary said. This is a beautiful moment. She looked around for
Isabelle, who would probably be nearly as pleased as she was that
Simon and Jace were getting along, albeit in their own peculiar way.
Instead she saw someone else.
Standing at the very edge of the glamoured forest, where shadow blended into light, was a slender

woman in a green dress the color of leaves, her long scarlet hair bound back by a golden circlet.
The Seelie Queen. She was looking directly at Clary, and as Clary met her gaze, she lifted up a slender hand and beckoned. Come.
Whether it was her own desire or the strange compulsion of the Fair
Folk, Clary wasnt sure, but with a murmured excuse she stepped away from the others and made her way to the edge of the forest, wending her way through riotous partygoers. She

became aware, as she drew close to the Queen, of a preponderance of faeries standing very near them, in a circle around their Lady. Even if she wanted to appear alone, the
Queen was not without her courtiers. The Queen held up an imperious hand. There, she said. And no closer. Clary, a few steps from the Queen, paused. My lady, she said, remembering the formal way that
Jace had addressed the Queen

inside her court. Why do you call me to your side?
I would have a favor from you, said the Queen without preamble. And of course, I would promise a favor in return. A favor from me? Clary said wonderingly. Butyou dont even like me. The Queen touched her lips thoughtfully with a single long white finger. The Fair Folk, unlike humans, do not concern themselves overmuch with liking. Love,

perhaps, and hate. Both are useful emotions. But liking She shrugged elegantly. The Council has not yet chosen which of our folk they would like to sit upon their seat, she said. I know that Lucian Graymark is like a father to you. He would listen to what you asked him. I would like you to ask him if they would choose my knight Meliorn for the task.
Clary thought back to the Accords
Hall, and Meliorn say ing he did not want to fight in the battle unless the

Night Children fought as well. I dont think Luke likes him very much. And again, said the Queen, you speak of liking.
When I saw you before, in the
Seelie Court, Clary said, you called
Jace and me brother and sister. But you knew we werent really brother and sister. Didn t you?
The Queen smiled. The same blood runs in your veins, she said. The blood of the Angel. All those who bear the Angels blood are brother

and sister under the skin.
Clary shivered. You could have told us the truth, though. And you didn t. I told you the truth as I saw it. We all tell the truth as we see it, do we not? Did you ever stop to wonder what untruths might have been in the tale your mother told you, that served her purpose in telling it? Do you truly think you know each and every secret of your past?
Clary hesitated. Without knowing why, she suddenly heard Madame

Dorotheas voice in her head. You will fall in love with the wrong person, the hedge-witch had said to
Jace. Clary had come to assume that
Dorothea had only been referring to how much trouble Jaces affection for Clary would bring them both.
But still, there were blanks, she knew, in her memoryeven now, things, events, that had not come back to her. Secrets whose truths shed never know. She had given them up for lost and unimportant, but perhaps

No. She felt her hands tighten at her sides. The Queens poison was a subtle one, but powerful. Was there anyone in the world who could truly say they knew every secret about themselves? And werent some secrets better left alone?
She shook her head. What you did in the Court, she said. Perhaps you didnt lie. But you were unkind. She started to turn away. And I have had enough unkindness.
Would you truly refuse a favor from the Queen of the Seelie Court? the

Queen demanded. Not every mortal is granted such a chance.
I dont need a favor from you, Clary said. I have everything I want.
She turned her back on the Queen and walked away.

When she returned to the group she had left, she discovered that they had been joined by Robert and
Maryse Lightwood, who wereshe

saw with surpriseshaking hands with Magnus Bane, who had put the sparkly headband away and was being the model of decorum.
Maryse had her arm around Alecs shoulder. The rest of her friends were sitting in a group along the wall; Clary was about to move to join them, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Clary! It was her mother, smiling at herand Luke stood beside her, his hand in hers. Jocelyn wasnt dressed up at all; she wore jeans, and a

loose shirt that at least wasnt stained with paint. You couldnt have told from the way Luke was looking at her, though, that she looked anything less than perfect.
I m glad we finally found you.
Clary grinned at Luke. So youre not moving to Idris, I take it?
Nah, he said. He looked as happy as shed ever seen him. The pizza here is terrible.
Jocelyn laughed and moved off to talk to Amatis, who was admiring a floating glass bubble filled with

smoke that kept changing colors.
Clary looked at Luke. Were you ever actually going to leave New
York, or were you just saying that to get her to finally make a move?
Clary, said Luke, I am shocked that you would suggest such a thing. He grinned, then abruptly sobered.
Youre all right with it, arent you? I know this means a big change in your lifeI was going to see if you and your mother might want to move in with me, since your apartments unlivable right now

Clary snorted. A big change? My life has already changed totally.
Several times.
Luke glanced over toward Jace, who was watching them from his seat on the wall. Jace nodded at them, his mouth curling up at the corner in an amused smile. I guess it has, Luke said.
Change is good, said Clary.
Luke held his hand up; the Alliance rune had faded, as it had for everyone, but his skin still bore the white telltale trace of it, the scar

that would never entirely disappear.
He looked thoughtfully at the Mark.
So it is.
Clary! Isabelle called from the wall. Fireworks!
Clary hit Luke lightly on the shoulder and went to join her friends. They were seated along the wall in a line: Jace, Isabelle,
Simon, Maia, and Aline. She stopped beside Jace. I dont see any fireworks, she said, mock-scowling at Isabelle.
Patience, grasshopper, said Maia.

Good things come to those who wait. I always thought that was Good things come to those who do the wave, said Simon. No wonder Ive been so confused all my life.
Confused is a nice word for it, said
Jace, but he was clearly only somewhat paying attention; he reached out and pulled Clary toward him, almost absently, as if it were a reflex. She leaned back against his shoulder, looking up at the sky. Nothing lit the heavens but

the demon towers, glowing a soft silver-white against the darkness.
Where did you go? he asked, quietly enough that only she could hear the question. The Seelie Queen wanted me to do her a favor, said Clary. And she wanted to do me a favor in return.
She felt Jace tense. Relax. I told her no. Not many people would turn down a favor from the Seelie Queen, said
Jace.
I told her I didnt need a favor, said

Clary. I told her I had everything I wanted. Jace laughed at that, softly, and slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder; his fingers played idly with the chain around her neck, and Clary glanced down at the glint of silver against her dress. She had worn the
Morgenstern ring since Jace had left it for her, and sometimes she wondered why. Did she really want to be reminded of Valentine? And yet, at the same time, was it ever right to forget?

You couldnt erase everything that caused you pain with its recollection. She didnt want to forget Max or Madeleine, or Hodge, or the Inquisitor, or even Sebastian.
Every memory was valuable; even the bad ones. Valentine had wanted to forget: to forget that the world had to change, and Shadowhunters had to change with itto forget that
Downworlders had souls, and all souls mattered to the fabric of the world. He had wanted to think only of what made Shadowhunters

different from Down worlders. But what had been his undoing had been the way in which they were all the same. Clary, Jace said, breaking her out of her reverie. He tightened his arms around her, and she raised her head; the crowd was cheering as the first of the rockets went up. Look.
She looked as the fireworks exploded in a shower of sparkssparks that painted the clouds overhead as they fell, one by one, in streaking lines of golden fire, like

angels falling from the sky.

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