CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

REBECCA

Rebecca should have known that with the Fair Folk, things never came so easily. The Queen, still with Rebecca's sword against her throat, led them down an endlessly long corridor, ignoring the muffled curses and gasps of pain from the others as they stumbled over rocks that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and twisted out of creepers that attempted to wrap around their legs.

"How much longer?" Rebecca said finally.

"Not long," the Queen said serenely.

Rebecca rolled her eyes as Simon came up behind her and tugged at her elbow. "I really, really hate to say this," he whispered, "but that kind of seemed too easy."

"Maybe she's letting us go because she thinks we'll die there."

"That's comforting," Simon whispered sarcastically, falling back into step with Clary.

Rebecca shrugged. "What did you expect? A pep talk?"

As the darkness became more and more complete, her thoughts wandered to Sebastian. What was he doing now? Did he already know that she had turned against him? Probably not, but the Queen would warn him soon enough.

But if it came down to killing him, would she really be able to do it? Could she kill someone she loved? Did she even love him at all? These questions swirled around in her head until she became dizzy.

Fortunately, the Queen's voice brought her out of her musings. "Here we are," she said, a tinge of amusement in her voice. "Can you guess the right road?"

They stood in a massive cave, the roof so high it was lost in shadow. The walls glowed with a phosphorescent shine, and three roads branched out in front of them. One was clear and broad and smooth, leading directly ahead. The one on the left shone with green leaves and bright flowers; Rebecca even thought she saw a glimmer of blue sky in the distance. The one on the right was dark and narrow, its shadows so thick they seemed to be almost alive, waiting for them to come into their clutches.

Something clicked in Rebecca's mind. "This is the Three Roads," she said. "That one," she pointed to the one on the left, "leads into the mundane world. That," she pointed to the one on the right, "leads further into Faerie. The one directly ahead of us leads straight to Hell."

"How do you know?" Alec sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Because this is where the Endarkened hid," she replied, turning to the Queen. "They waited here at the crossroads, then took the road leading to the mundane world and made for the Adamant Citadel."

"By the Angel," Clary breathed.

"Did you know this before?" Isabelle said urgently.

"No." Rebecca tore her gaze away from the Queen's unwavering one. "No, I asked Sebastian, but he never trusted me enough to tell me where they were." She glared at her feet. "Let's just go." She poked the Queen with the tip of her sword, and she jumped. Under other circumstances, she would have laughed.

"Just a second." Jace turned to the Queen. "What will stop you from telling Sebastian we've come after him the moment we leave you?"

The Queen's lips thinned. She looked old in that moment, despite the youth and beauty of her face. "You ask a fine question. And even if you kill me, there are those in my Court who will speak to him of you, and he will guess your intentions, for he is clever. You cannot evade his knowing, save you kill all the Fair Folk in my Court."

"Swear," said Jace. "I know what promises mean to your people. I know you cannot lie. Swear you will say nothing of us to Sebastian, nor will you allow anyone in your court to do the same."

"I swear," said the Queen. "I swear that no one in my court by word or deed will tell him that you came here." But there was a smile on her face.

Rebecca dug her sword deeper into the Queen's back. "I know you think you are sending us to our deaths," she said. "But we won't die so easily. And when we win this war, we will make you and your people bleed for what you have done."

"Come, now," said the Queen. "You do not have the stomach for so much killing. You may have the blood of Lilith herself, but your heart is still pure."

Rebecca snorted. "Lady, if my heart was pure, I would not have murdered eight of your faerie knights back there. I'd be happy to kill more." She looked around at the others. "Are we ready?"

The corridor curved far away into the distance, seeming as if it had been hollowed out of the rock around it by fire. As they moved forward in total silence, the pale stone walls around them darkened, stained here and there by streaks of charcoaled blackness, as if the rock itself had burned. The smooth floor began to give way to a rockier one, grit crunching under their boot heels. The phosphorescence in the walls started to dim, and Alec drew his witchlight from his pocket and raised it overhead.

In front of Rebecca, Simon suddenly stopped, and she walked straight into him. She rubbed her nose ruefully as Clary, beside her, whispered, "What is it?"

"Something moving." He jabbed a finger in the direction of the shadows ahead. "Up there."

She peeked around Simon's shoulder, but her eyesight was nothing compared to Simon's vampire vision. She looked around at Isabelle and made a jabbing motion with her fingers towards the source of the disturbance up ahead. Isabelle's eyes widened in understanding, and she turned to Alec and Jace, who nodded.

Silently, Alec held up three fingers and began counting down. Three, two, one.

Quick as a flash, he swung his hand down, dousing the light. Isabelle moved ahead, while Rebecca stayed behind, her grip on her sword so tight that her fingers were beginning to hurt. In the pitch dark, she could hear the sounds of a scuffle: a thump, and then a very human yelp of pain.

"Stop!" Simon called, and light exploded all around them. It was as if a camera flash had gone off. Rebecca had to blink a few times to get her eyes to adjust to the new brightness.

The scene filled in slowly: Jace holding his witchlight, the glow almost blinding in the narrow corridor. Alec, his bow raised and notched. Isabelle, the handle of her whip tight in one hand, the whip itself curled around the ankles of a slight figure hunched against the cave wall - a boy, with pale-blond hair that curled over his slightly pointed ears-

"By the Angel." Rebecca lowered her sword, her heart thumping erratically; she couldn't tell if it was from relief or worry.

Isabelle's whip slithered back into her grasp. Alec's bow fell to his side. The boy lifted his head and scowled.

"Mark?" Jace said in an incredulous tone.

"Are you all right?" Rebecca reached for his hand, but he wrenched it away from her grip, his eyes burning with fury.

"You let him kill my family!" The anguish in his voice was as sharp as a knife. "My brothers and sisters... they're dead, aren't they?"

"No, I - Mark, they're alive-"

"STOP LYING!" He was standing upright now, his fists clenched at his sides. But his eyes were still downcast, his head still bowed. "The faeries told me they were all dead! And they can't lie!"

Clary came to Rebecca's aid. "Your father was Turned. But your brothers and sisters are alive. They're in Idris. They escaped. They're fine."

Instead of looking relieved, Mark went white. "What?"

"Julian, Helen, the others - they're all alive." Clary put her hand on his shoulder; he flinched away. "They're alive, and they're worried about you."

Mark said nothing. He looked down at his feet, his chest heaving.

"Mark, I'm sorry." Rebecca took a step closer to him, wary of what he would do. "I swear, I didn't know what to do, I-"

"Rebecca." Jace's warning tone stopped her in her tracks. She turned to frown at him – surely telling him that his family was alive and well was the most important thing?

"Have you eaten anything, drunk anything since the Fair Folk took you?" Jace asked, moving to peer into Mark's face. Mark jerked away, but not before Rebecca heard Jace's sharp intake of breath.

"What is it?" she demanded.

"His eyes," Jace said, raising his witchlight and shining it into Mark's face. Mark scowled again but allowed Jace to examine him.

He looked almost the same now as he'd done two years ago – the trademark long lashes and high cheekbones, thanks to his faerie blood. But his eyes were different. One was Blackthorn blue, the color of the sea. The other was gold, hazed through with shadows.

A lump settled in Rebecca's throat. "The Wild Hunt," she whispered hoarsely. "You're one of them now."

Jace was scanning the boy with his eyes, as if Mark were a book he could read. "Put your hands out," Jace said finally, and Mark did so. Jace caught them and turned them over, baring the other boy's wrists. His bare forearms were striped with bloody whip marks. Rebecca thought of the way Clary had touched Mark's shoulder and he'd flinched away. The Angel only knew what else they'd done to him. At the thought, her stomach writhed unpleasantly.

"When did this happen?" Clary asked.

Mark pulled his hands away. They were shaking. "Meliorn did it," he said. "When he first took me. He said he'd stop if I ate and drank their food, so I did. I didn't think it mattered, if my family was dead. And I thought faeries couldn't lie."

"Meliorn can," said Alec grimly. "Or at least, he could."

"When did this all happen?" Isabelle demanded. "The faeries only took you less than a week ago-"

Mark shook his head. "I've been with the Folk for a long time," he said. "I couldn't say how long."

"Time runs differently in Faerie," Alec said. "Sometimes faster, sometimes slower."

Mark said, "Gwyn told me I belonged to the Hunt and I couldn't leave them unless they allowed me to go. Is that true?"

"It's true," Jace said.

Mark slumped against the cave wall. He turned his head toward Clary. "You saw them. You saw my brothers and sisters. And Emma?"

"They're all right, all of them, Emma, too," Clary said. "Thanks to Rebecca. She allowed them to escape under Sebastian's nose."

But the words fell on deaf ears. "Helen can't take care of them. Not alone," Mark said a little desperately. "And Jules, he's too young. He can't take care of Ty; he doesn't know the things he needs. He doesn't know how to talk to him-" He took a shuddering breath. "You should let me come with you."

"Yeah, we can take him with us, bring him back home-"

"You know we can't, Bec," Alec said, with a touch of sympathy in his voice. "He's one of the Wild Hunt now. Besides, we can't take him to Hell with us-"

"Are you blind?" Rebecca interrupted harshly. "Have you seen what they've done to him? And the Angel only knows what else they would do-"

"He can't leave!" Jace said harshly. "If he tries, he'll die."

"I'd rather die," Mark said.

"Look, Becca," Jace said gently. "They took him, not because he was faerie blood, but because he has Shadowhunter blood. It's their way of punishing the Nephilim."

Reluctantly, Rebecca turned back to Mark, feeling her heart sink down to her toes. She hated to admit it, but he was right.

"Show them what a Shadowhunter is made of," Jace said to Mark. "Show them you aren't afraid. You can live through this."

In the wavering illumination of the witchlight, Mark looked at Jace. Tears had made their tracks through the dirt on his face, but his eyes were dry. "I don't know what to do," he said. "What do I do?"

"Endure. You can do it. I know you can."

"Jace," Alec said, his bow at his side. "Jace, we need to let him go before the Hunt notices he's missing."

"Wait," Rebecca said. She pulled out her own witchlight and pressed it into Mark's hands. "Take this, and remember my promise, Mark. No matter how long it takes, no matter how far away you are, I will find you. When this is over, I will find you. I swear on the Angel."

For the first time, Mark's eyes met her own, and his hands closed around the witchlight. "I will remember." Then he turned and ran back down the passage on soundless bare feet.