CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JACE

Not much had changed at Magnus's since the first time Jace had been there. The same small entryway and single yellow bulb. Jace used an Open rune to get in through the front door, took the stairs two at a time, and buzzed Magnus's apartment bell. Safer than using another rune, he figured. After all, Magnus could be playing video games naked or, really, doing practically anything. Who knew what warlocks got up to in their spare time?

Jace buzzed again, this time leaning firmly on the doorbell. Two more long buzzes, and Magnus finally yanked the door open, looking furious. He was wearing a black silk dressing gown over a white dress shirt and tweed pants.

His feet were bare. His dark hair was tangled, and there was the shadow of a day-old stubble on his jaw. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"My, my," said Jace. "So unwelcoming."

"That's because you're not welcome."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were friends."

"No. You're Alec's friend. Alec was my boyfriend, so I had to put up with you. But now he's not my boyfriend, so I don't have to put up with you. Not that any of you seem to realize it. You must be the - what, fourth? - of you lot to bother me." Magnus counted off on his long fingers. "Clary. Isabelle. Simon-"

"Simon came by?"

"You seem surprised."

"I didn't think he was that invested in your relationship with Alec."

"I don't have a relationship with Alec," said Magnus flatly, but Jace had already shouldered past him and was in his living room, looking around curiously. One of the things Jace had always secretly liked about Magnus's apartment was that it rarely looked the same way twice. Sometimes it was a big modern loft. Sometimes it looked like a French bordello, or a Victorian opium den, or the inside of a spaceship. Right now, though, it was messy and dark. Stacks of old Chinese food cartons littered the coffee table. Chairman Meow lay on the rag rug, all four legs sticking straight out in front of him like a dead deer.

"It smells like heartbreak in here," said Jace.

"That's the Chinese food." Magnus bustled past him and discreetly snatched a piece of paper from the table and shoved it into the pocket of his dressing gown. Then he threw himself down onto the sofa, stretched out his long legs, and sighed dramatically. "Go on, get it over with. Say whatever you came here to say."

"I need a favor," said Jace.

Magnus rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Of course you do."

"It's important," Jace said. "It's about Rebecca."

That seemed to catch Magnus's attention, if only slightly. He sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing. "What about her?"

"Well, you know she's... missing."

"I wouldn't say that, exactly," Magnus muttered, swinging his long legs off the sofa. "I think we know exactly where she is."

"With Sebastian," Jace said, his voice tight. "And who knows what that bastard will do to her."

"And I'm assuming you want my help to find her?"

"Yes."

Magnus shrugged. "No can do, little Shadowhunter."

Jace felt a surge of annoyance, coupled with the constant worry that had plagued him ever since the battle at the Burren. "Why not?"

"Because I've tried it before. And it hasn't worked."

"Well, try again."

Magnus shook his head. "It's not that simple. Sebastian is smarter than that – most likely, she has a Blocking rune day and night."

"Is there... I don't know, anything else we can do? Any other way we can track her? Or Sebastian?"

Magnus fixed Jace with his catlike gaze. "No."

Jace sighed and slumped down on the sofa opposite Magnus. "There's one more thing."

Magnus raised an eyebrow.

"I think you should get back together with Alec."

Magnus rolled his eyes again. He let out a loud sigh and lay down on the sofa. "And why is that?"

"Because he's miserable," said Jace. "And he's sorry. He's sorry about what he did. He won't do it again."

"Oh, he won't sneak around behind my back with one of my exes planning to shorten my life again? Very noble of him."

"Magnus-"

"Besides, Camille's dead. He can't do it again."

"You know what I mean," said Jace. "He won't lie to you or mislead you or hide things from you or whatever it is you're actually upset about." He raised an eyebrow at Magnus.

"So?" Magnus rolled onto his side. "What do you care if Alec's miserable?"

"What do I care?" Jace said, so loudly that Chairman Meow sat bolt upright as if he'd been shocked. "Of course I care about Alec; he's my best friend, my parabatai. And he's unhappy. And so are you, by the look of things. Take-out containers everywhere, you haven't done anything to fix up the place, your cat looks dead-"

"He's not dead."

"I care about Alec," Jace said, fixing Magnus with an unswerving gaze. "I care about him more than I care about myself."

"Don't you ever think," Magnus mused, pulling at a bit of peeling fingernail polish, "that the whole parabatai business is rather cruel? You can choose your parabatai, but then you can never un-choose them. Even if they turn on you. Look at Luke and Valentine. And though your parabatai is the closest person in the world to you in some ways, you can't fall in love with them. And if they die, some part of you dies too."

"How do you know so much about parabatai?"

"I know Shadowhunters," said Magnus, patting the sofa beside him so that the Chairman leaped up onto the cushions and nudged at Magnus with his head. The warlock's long fingers sank into the cat's fur. "I have for a long time. You are odd creatures. All fragile nobility and humanity on one side, and all the thoughtless fire of angels on the other." His eyes flicked toward Jace. "You especially, Herondale, for you have the fire of angels in your blood."

"You've been friends with Shadowhunters before?"

"Friends," said Magnus. "What does that mean, really?"

"You'd know," said Jace, "if you had any. Do you? Do you have friends? I mean, besides the people who come to your parties. Most people are afraid of you, or they seem to owe you something, or you slept with them once, but friends - I don't see you having a lot of those."

"Well, this is novel," said Magnus. "None of the rest of your group has tried insulting me."

"Is it working?"

"If you mean do I suddenly feel compelled to get back together with Alec, no," said Magnus. "I have developed an odd craving for pizza, but that might be unrelated."

"Alec said you do that," said Jace. "Deflect questions about yourself with jokes."

Magnus narrowed his eyes. "And I'm the only one who does that?"

"Exactly," Jace said. "Take it from someone who knows. You hate talking about yourself, and you'd rather make people angry than be pitied. How old are you, Magnus? The real answer."

Magnus said nothing.

"What were your parents' names? Your father's name?"

Magnus glared at him out of gold-green eyes. "If I wanted to lie on a couch and complain to someone about my parents, I'd hire a psychiatrist."

"Ah," said Jace. "But my services are free."

"I heard that about you."

Jace grinned and slid down in his chair. There was a pillow with a pattern of the Union Jack on the ottoman. He grabbed it and put it behind his head. "I don't have anywhere to be. I can sit here all day."

"Great," Magnus said. "I'm going to take a nap." He reached out for a crumpled blanket lying on the floor, just as Jace's phone rang. Magnus watched, arrested mid-motion, as Jace dug around in his pocket and flipped the phone open. It was Isabelle. "Jace?"

"Yeah. I'm at Magnus's place. I think I might be making some headway. What's up?"

"Come back," Isabelle said, and Jace sat up straight, the pillow tumbling to the floor. Her voice was tightly strained. He could hear the sharpness in it, like the off notes of a badly tuned piano. "To the Institute. Right away, Jace."

"What is it?" he asked. "What's happened?" And he saw Magnus sit up too, the blanket dropping from his hand.

"Sebastian," Isabelle said.

CLARY

There were dozens of unfamiliar coats and jackets hanging in the entryway of the Institute. Clary felt the tight buzzing of tension in her shoulders as she unzipped her own wool coat and hung it on one of the hooks that lined the walls.

"And Maryse didn't say what this was about?" Clary demanded. The edges of her voice had been rubbed thin by anxiety.

Jocelyn had unwound a long gray scarf from around her neck, and barely looked as Luke took it from her to drape it on a hook. Her green eyes were darting around the room, taking in the gate of the elevator, the arched ceiling overhead, the faded murals of men and angels.

Luke shook his head. "Just that there'd been an attack on the Clave, and we needed to get here as quickly as possible."

"It's the 'we' part that concerns me." Jocelyn wound her hair up into a knot at the back of her head and secured it with her fingers. "I haven't been in an Institute in years. Why do they want me here?" Luke squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. Clary knew what Jocelyn feared, what they all feared. The only reason the Clave would want Jocelyn here was if there was news of her son.

"Maryse said they'd be in the library," Jocelyn said. Clary led the way.

You know why you're here, don't you, breathed a soft voice in the back of her head. She knew it wasn't really there, but that didn't help. She hadn't seen her brother since the fight at the Burren, but she carried him in some small part of her mind, an intrusive, unwelcome ghost.

Because of me.

Erchomai.

I am coming.

Someone had pushed back all the furniture in the library, clearing a large space in the middle of the room, just atop the mosaic of the Angel. A massive table had been placed there, a huge slab of marble balanced on top of two kneeling stone angels. Around the table were seated the Conclave.

Maryse was seated there too, looking thinner than usual. Her face was white, and her eyes were closed. One of the other members was standing next to her, ticking off names as she chanted aloud.

"Berlin. No survivors. Moscow. No survivors. Los Angeles-"

"Los Angeles?" said Jocelyn. "That was the Blackthorns. Are they-"

Maryse looked up, startled. Her blue eyes swept over Luke and Clary. "There were survivors," she said. "Children. They're in Idris now."

"Helen," said Alec. "Is she all right?"

"She was in Idris, with Aline," said Maryse. "Her younger brothers and sisters survived, although there seems to have been an issue with the eldest brother, Mark."

"Mark?" Isabelle exchanged glances with Alec. "But that's-"

Alec shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and Isabelle trailed off into silence.

"An issue?" said Luke. "What's going on, exactly, Maryse?"

"I don't think we'll know the whole story until we get to Idris," said Maryse, smoothing back her already smooth hair. "But there have been attacks, several in the course of two nights, on six Institutes. We're not sure yet how the Institutes were breached, but we know-"

The door opened and Jace came in. He was flushed with the cold, bareheaded, fair hair tousled by the wind. Without a word, he went to stand beside Alec and Isabelle.

"Maryse?" Luke urged. "Is Sebastian responsible?"

Maryse's face turned even whiter. "Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Yes, yes he was. And he had the Endarkened with him."

There was the low buzz of voices – panic, alarm, outright fear. "The Clave has called for immediate evacuation," Maryse said, raising her voice. "All Institutes are to empty out. All Conclaves must return to Alicante. The wards around Idris will be doubled after tomorrow. No one will be able to come in or get out."

The council members mutely exchanged glances. There didn't seem to be anything else to be said or done. One by one, they left, until it was just Maryse, Isabelle, Alec, Jace, Jocelyn, Luke and Clary.

Maryse waited until the last of the council members had disappeared down the hallway before standing up. "There is something else you need to know."

Jocelyn, Jace, Clary and Luke all looked at her, but Isabelle and Alec simply stared fixedly at the floor.

"It appears that Sebastian has recruited a new lieutenant as well." Maryse's voice quavered, but only very slightly.

"Who?" Jocelyn said sharply.

Now it was Maryse's turn to stare at the floor. Taking a deep breath, she said without looking up, "Rebecca Lightwood."