And then there were Livvy and Ty. Ty had the buds of his earphones in. Livvy looked tired but entirely healthy. Only a slight shadow under Ty's eyes let Kit know he hadn't dreamed the whole of last night.
"What we found at Blackthorn Hall was an aletheia crystal," Ty was saying as Kit sat down. "In the past the crystals were used by the Clave to hold evidence. The evidence of memories."
There was a babble of curious voices. Cristina's rose above the others--it was an impressive talent of hers, to make herself heard without ever shouting. "Memories of what?"
"A sort of trial," said Livvy. "In Idris, with the Inquisitor there. Lots of familiar families--Herondales, Blackthorns, of course, Dearborns."
"Any Lightwoods?" asked Alec.
"One or two looked like they might be." Livvy frowned.
"The Herondales have always been famous for their good looks," said Bridget, "but if you ask me, the Lightwoods are the more sexually charismatic of the bunch."
Alec spit out his tea. Magnus seemed to be keeping a straight face, but with an effort.
"I should examine the memories," Magnus said. "See if there's anyone I recognize from that era."
"If Annabel is angry at Shadowhunters," said Livvy, "it seems to me she has good reason."
"Many have good reason to be angry with the Nephilim," said Mark. "Malcolm did as well. But those who harmed her are dead, and their descendants blameless. That is the problem with revenge--you wind up destroying the innocent as well as the guilty."
"But does she know that?" Ty frowned. "We don't understand her. We don't know what she thinks or feels."
He looked anxious, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. Kit wanted to go across the table and put his arms around Ty the way he had the night before, on the roof. He felt intensely protective of the other boy, in a way that was strange and unnerving. He'd cared about people before, mostly his father, but he'd never wanted to protect them.
He wanted to kill anyone who would try to hurt Ty. It was a very peculiar feeling.
"Everyone should watch the scenes in the crystal," Magnus announced. "In the meantime, Alec and I have some news."
"You're getting married," said Livvy, beaming. "I love weddings."
"Nope, still not getting married right now," said Alec. Kit wondered why not; they were clearly a committed couple. But it was none of his business, really.
"Evelyn has left us," said Magnus. Somehow he managed to retain his sangfroid despite having a grizzling toddler on his lap. "According to Jia, the Institute is temporarily in Alec's charge."
"They've been trying to lumber me with an Institute somewhere for years," said Alec. "Jia must be thrilled."
"Evelyn has left us?" Dru's eyes were huge. "You mean she died?"
Magnus started to cough. "Of course not. She went to visit your great-aunt Marjorie, actually, in the countryside."
"Is this like when the family dog dies and they say he's living on a farm now?" Kit asked, curious.
It was Alec's turn to choke. Kit strongly suspected he was laughing and trying not to show it.
"Not at all," said Magnus. "She just decided she'd prefer to miss the excitement."
"She is with Marjorie," Mark confirmed. "I got a fire-message about it this morning. She left Bridget, obviously, to help around the house."
Kit thought of the way Evelyn had reacted to having a faerie in the Institute. He could only imagine how she'd felt about two warlocks added to the situation. She'd probably left tire marks behind when she raced out of the place.
"Does that mean we don't have to eat our porridge?" said Tavvy, eyeing the grayish stuff with dislike.
Magnus grinned. "In fact . . ."
He snapped his fingers, and a bag from the Primrose Bakery appeared in the middle of the table. It tipped over, spilling muffins, croissants, and iced cakes.
There was a great shout of happiness and everyone lunged for the pastries. A small war over the chocolate cookies was won by Ty, who shared them with Livvy.
Max crawled onto the table, reaching for a muffin. Magnus leaned on his elbows, his cat eyes watchful. "And after breakfast," he said, "maybe we can go into the library and discuss what we know about the current situation."
Everyone nodded; only Mark looked at him with a slightly narrow gaze. Kit understood--Magnus had gotten rid of Evelyn for them, he'd brought breakfast, he'd put them in a good mood. Now he was going to see what they knew. A straightforward con.
Looking at the cheerful faces around the table, for a moment Kit hated his own father, for destroying his ability to ever believe someone might be willing to give something for nothing.
*
Kieran found the whole business of eating dinner and breakfast in a group bizarre and of little interest. Mark had been bringing him plates of food as plain as Bridget could make them--meat and rice and bread, uncooked fruit and vegetables.
But Kieran only picked at them. When Mark came into Kieran's room after breakfast, the prince was looking out at the city through his window with a weary loathing. His hair had paled to blue-white, curling like the break of surf at the edge of the water around his ears and temples.
"Listen to this," Kieran said. He had a book open on his lap.
"The land of Faery,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue."
He glanced up at Mark with his luminous eyes. "That's ridiculous."
"That's Yeats," said Mark, handing over some raspberries. "He was a very famous mundane poet."
"He didn't know anything about faeries. Nobody grows bitter of tongue? Ha!" Kieran swallowed the raspberries and slid off the windowsill. "Where do we journey now?"
"I was going to the library," said Mark. "There's a sort of--meeting--about what we're going to do next."
"Then I would like to go to it," said Kieran.
Mark's mind raced. Was there any reason Kieran shouldn't come? As far as Magnus and Alec knew, his relationship with Kieran was whatever he said it was. Nor was it any good for Kieran, or for their strained relationship, for the faerie prince to spend all his time in a small room, hating seminal Irish poets.
"Well," Mark said. "If you're sure."
When they walked into the library, Magnus was examining the aletheia crystal while the others tried to fill him in on what had been going on before he'd arrived. The warlock was lying full-length on one of the tables, holding the crystal delicately above him.
Cristina, Ty, Livvy, and Dru were seated around the long library table. Alec was sitting on the floor of the room with three children clustered around him: his own two boys, and Tavvy, who was delighted to have someone to play with. The seven-year-old was explaining to Max and Rafe how he made towns and cities out of books, showing them how you could make tunnels with books splayed open on their faces for trains to go through.
Magnus gestured Mark over to look into the aletheia crystal, which was glowing with an odd light. The sounds in the room around him faded as Mark watched the trial, saw Annabel beg and protest, saw the Blackthorns doom her to her fate.
He felt chilled all over when he finally looked away. It took several moments for the library to come back into focus. To Mark's surprise, Kieran had picked up Max and was holding him in the air, obviously delighted by his blue skin and the buds of his horns.
Max stuck his hand into Kieran's wavy hair and pulled. Kieran just laughed. "That's right, it changes color, little nixie-like warlock," he said. "Look." And his hair went from blue-black to bright blue in an instant. Max giggled.
"I didn't know you could do that on purpose," said Mark, who had always thought of Kieran's hair as a reflection of his moods, uncontrollable as the tides.
"You don't know a lot of things about me, Mark Blackthorn," Kieran said, setting Max down.
Alec and Magnus had exchanged a look at that, the sort of look that made Mark feel as if they had reached a silent a
nd agreed-upon consensus about his relationship with Kieran.
"So," Magnus said, looking at Kieran with some interest. "You're the son of the Unseelie King?"
Kieran had what Mark thought of as his Court face on, blank and superior as befitted a prince. "And you are the warlock Magnus Bane."
"Quite," Magnus said. "Although that was an easy guess, since there's one of me and fifty of you."
Ty looked puzzled.
"Fifty sons of the Unseelie King," explained Livvy. "I think that was a joke."
"Not one of my best," said Magnus to Kieran. "I apologize--I'm not a big fan of your father."
"My father does not have fans." Kieran leaned against the edge of the table. "He has subjects. And enemies."
"And sons."
"His sons are his enemies," said Kieran, without inflection.
Magnus looked at him with a flicker of extra interest. "All right," he said, sitting up. "Diana explained some of this to us, but it's more complicated than I thought. Annabel Blackthorn, who was brought back from the dead by Malcolm, who was sort of dead before but is now very definitely dead, has the Black Volume. And the Seelie Queen wants it?"
"She does," said Mark. "She was very clear about that."
"And she made you a deal," Alec said, from the floor. "She always makes a deal."
"If we give her the Black Volume, she will use it against the Unseelie King," said Mark, and hesitated. YOU CAN TRUST MAGNUS AND ALEC, Julian had texted earlier. TELL THEM ANYTHING. "She has sworn not to try to use it to harm us. In fact, she has promised aid to us. She made Kieran her messenger. He'll testify in front of the Council about the Unseelie King's plans to make war on Alicante. Once the Queen has the Black Volume, she will authorize her Seelie soldiers to fight alongside Shadowhunters against the King--but the Clave will have to end all laws that forbid cooperation with faeries if they want her help."
"Which they will," said Magnus. "Fighting a war against Faerie would be much easier with faeries on your side."
Mark nodded. "We are hoping not just to defeat the King, but also to crush the Cohort and end the Cold Peace."
"Ah, the Cohort," said Magnus, exchanging a look with Alec. "We know them well. Horace Dearborn and his daughter, Zara."
"Horace?" Mark was startled.
"Sadly," said Magnus, "that is his name. Hence his life of evil."
"Not that the Dearborns are all of it," said Alec. "Plenty of bigots in the Clave, happy to gather under the umbrella of tossing out the Downworlders and returning the Clave to its former glory."
"Glory?" Kieran raised an eyebrow. "Do they mean the time of freely killing Downworlders? When our blood ran in the streets and their houses were stuffed with the spoils of their one-sided war?"
"Yes," said Magnus, "though they wouldn't describe it that way."
"Heading up the Alliance, we've heard more than a little about the Cohort," said Alec. "Their pushes to limit warlocks' use of their magic, to centralize blood supply for vampires so it can be monitored by the Clave--those have not gone unnoticed."
"They must not be allowed to get their hands on an Institute," said Magnus. "That could be potentially disastrous." He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the table. "I understand we must give the Black Volume to the Queen. But I don't like it, especially since it seems doubly important here."
"You mean because Annabel and Malcolm stole it from the Cornwall Institute," said Ty. "And then Malcolm stole it again, from the Institute in Los Angeles."
"The first time they were going to trade it to someone who they thought could protect them from the Clave," said Livvy. "The second time was with the Unseelie King's help. At least, according to Emma and Jules."
"And how did they find that out?" asked Magnus.
"It was in one of the books they found," said Cristina. "A diary. It explains why we found an Unseelie Court glove at the ruins of Malcolm's house. He must have met with the King or one of his sons there."
"Odd thing to write in a diary," Magnus muttered. " 'Traitorous plans with the Unseelie King afoot today, what ho.'"
"Odder that Malcolm disappeared from the Silent City after the first theft," said Mark, "and left Annabel to take the blame and the punishment."
"Why odd?" said Livvy. "He was a terrible person."
"But he did love Annabel," Cristina said. "Everything he did, the crimes, the murders, all his choices were made for love of her. And when he found out she hadn't become an Iron Sister, but had been murdered by her family, he went to the King of Faeries and asked for help in bringing her back. Don't you remember?"
Mark did remember, the story in the old book Tavvy had found, which had turned out to be true. "Which explains why Malcolm broke into the Los Angeles Institute to get the book five years ago," he said. "To bring Annabel back. But what did Malcolm want it for, two hundred years ago? Who was he planning to trade it to? Most necromancers couldn't help him with protection. And if it was a warlock, it would have to have been one stronger than Malcolm himself."
" 'Fade's powerful ally,' " Ty said, quoting the scene in the crystal.
"We don't think it could have been the Unseelie King?" Livvy said. "Both times?"
"The Unseelie King didn't hate Shadowhunters in 1812," said Magnus. "At least, not that much."
"And Malcolm told Emma that when he went to the Unseelie King after he found out that Annabel wasn't dead, he thought the King might kill him, because he disliked warlocks," said Cristina. "He wouldn't have a reason to dislike warlocks if he'd worked with Malcolm before, would he?"
Magnus stood up. "All right, enough guesswork," he said. "We have two duties to carry out today. First, we shouldn't lose sight of the binding spell on Mark and Cristina. It's more than just a nuisance, it's a danger to them both."
Mark couldn't help glancing at Cristina. She was looking down at the table, not at him. He remembered the night before, the warmth of her body beside him in bed, her breath in his ear.
He came back to reality with a start, realizing that a discussion of where they were going to get the ingredients for an anti-binding spell was underway. "Given what happened at the Shadow Market yesterday," Magnus added, "none of us will be welcomed back there again. There is, however, a shop here in London that sells what I need. If I give you the address, can Kit, Ty, and Livvy find it?"
Livvy and Ty clamored their agreement, clearly thrilled to have a mission. Kit was quieter, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. Somehow, this youngest Herondale had become so attached to the twins, even Magnus thought of them as a team.
"Do you really think it's wise for them to go?" Mark interrupted. "After what happened yesterday, with them sloping off to the Shadow Market and practically getting Livvy killed?"
"But, Mark--" Ty protested.
"Well," said Magnus, "you and Cristina should stay inside the Institute. Binding spells are dangerous, and you shouldn't be too far away from each other. Alec's the Institute head; he should stay here, and anyway--the owner of the shop has a certain, let's say, history with me. Better I don't go."
"I could go," said Dru, in a small voice.
"Not by yourself, Dru," said Mark. "And these three"--he indicated Kit, Ty, and Livvy--"will just get you in trouble."
"I can put a tracking spell on one of them," said Magnus. "If they wander off the path they're supposed to follow, it'll make an awful noise mundanes can hear."
"Delightful," said Mark as the twins protested. Kit didn't say anything--he rarely complained. Mark suspected he was silently plotting to get even instead, possibly with everyone he'd ever met.
Magnus examined a large blue ring on his finger. "We'll do library research. More about the history of the Black Volume. We don't know who created it, but perhaps who owned it in the past, what it was used for, anything that might point to who Malcolm was working with in 1812."
"And remember what Julian and Emma asked us for help with," said Cristina, tapping the phone in her pocket. "It should only take a few minutes to look it up
. . . ."
Mark couldn't help staring at her. She was tucking her dark hair behind her ears, and as she did, the sleeve of her sweater slipped down and he saw the red mark on her wrist. He wanted to go to her, to kiss the mark, to take her pain onto himself.
He looked away from her, but not before he caught the edge of a glance from Kieran. Ty and Livvy and Kit were getting out of their chairs, excitedly chattering, eager to go on their trip. Dru was sitting with her arms crossed. And Magnus was looking between Cristina, Mark, and Kieran thoughtfully, his cat eyes slow and considering.
"We shouldn't need to look it up at all," Magnus said. "We have a primary source right here. Kieran, what do you know about catching piskies?"
*
Emma woke late in the morning, surrounded by warmth. Light was breaking through the unshaded windows and making patterns on the walls like dancing waves. Through the window she could see flashes of blue sky and blue water: a holiday view.
She yawned, stretched--and went still as she realized why she was so warm. She and Julian had somehow wrapped themselves around each other during the night.
Emma froze in horror. Her left arm was thrown across Julian's body, but she couldn't just remove it. He had turned toward her, his own arms curved around her back, securing her. Her cheek brushed the smooth skin of his collarbone. Their legs were tangled together as well, her foot resting on his ankle.
She began to slowly detangle herself. Oh God. If Julian woke up it would be so awkward, and everything had been going so well. Their conversation on the train--finding the cottage--talking about Annabel--everything had been comfortable. She didn't want to lose that, not now.
She edged sideways, slipping her fingers out of his--closer to the edge of the bed--and went over the side with an ungainly tumble. She landed with a thump and a scream that woke Julian, who peered over the side of the bed in confusion.
"Why are you on the floor?"
"I've heard rolling out of bed in the morning helps you build up resistance to surprise attacks," Emma said, lying sprawled on the hardwood.
"Oh yeah?" He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What does screaming 'holy crap!' do?"
"That part's optional," she said. She got to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. "So," she said. "What's for breakfast?"
He grinned his low-key grin and stretched. She didn't look at where his shirt rode up. There was no reason to sail down Sexy Thoughts River to the Sea of Perversion when it wasn't going to go anywhere. "You hungry?"
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