Ghosts of the Shadow Market

by Cassandra Clare

  “Please stop reminding me. She smells like books. I may be immortal, but life is too short to spend reading.” Lily paused for an instant, then added quietly, “Raphael liked her. She and Ragnor Fell and Raphael used to have little meetings and tell each other secrets.”

  Alec understood the tension in her voice now. Lily was slightly wary of Magnus too, of anyone not in her clan whom she thought Raphael Santiago might have loved.

  “I told Jem we’d meet him outside the Shadow Market,” said Alec, effectively distracting Lily. “We can just carry our bags until we find a place to stay. For now let’s see about this place that has the Buenos Aires Institute running scared, where only I can go.”

  * * *

  Alec went to the New York Shadow Market on Canal Street with Magnus and Max often, but the first time at a new Shadow Market as a Shadowhunter could be tricky.

  The Buenos Aires Shadow Market looked more than tricky. Barbed wire was hung on every plank. The smooth sun-bleached wood and snarled loops of barbed wire were an impenetrable stretch of silver. There was a large metal door in front of them, more suited to a prison than a market, and a werewolf’s eyes shone behind a metal grille. He snapped something at them.

  “He said ‘No Shadowhunters,’ ” Lily interpreted cheerfully.

  There was a line of Downworlders behind them, staring and murmuring. Alec felt a shadow of the old discomfort at being the focus of attention, and a sudden doubt about the information Jem had provided.

  “I’m Alec Lightwood,” he said. “I hear that I’m allowed in.”

  There was a stir behind his back, a brief silence, and then a rush of different-sounding whispers, like listening to a tide turn.

  “You could just be another lying Nephilim,” the werewolf snarled, switching to English. “Can you prove you’re Alec Lightwood?”

  Alec said, “I can.”

  He took his hands out of his pockets and held up the right one to the grille so the werewolf could see it plainly: scarred skin, calluses from his bow, the dark lines of his Voyance rune, and moonlight striking and holding on the bright band of his family ring with its etched pattern of flames.

  Another set of eyes appeared at the grille, this pair a faerie’s, pupil-less and green as woodland lakes fathoms deep. She said something soft in Spanish.

  “She says the magic in your ring is very strong,” Lily reported at his shoulder. “Too strong. She says that kind of power comes from the very heart of Hell.”

  Alec knew that was true. There was not only one charm in this ring but spell after spell: magic for protection and deflection, magic to guide his arrows and blades, all the power at Magnus’s command poured into the metal. There was everything Magnus had been able to think of, to act as Alec’s armor and ensure Alec would return home safe to him. Most important, there was the look on Magnus’s face when he returned the ring, now symbolizing Alec’s family in two ways, to Alec. That was when Magnus had assured him that he believed they would be married one day.

  “I know where this kind of power comes from.” Alec raised his voice so that the whole murmuring crowd could hear. “I’m Alec Lightwood. Magnus Bane wove this enchantment for me.”

  The werewolf guard held open the door to the Shadow Market.

  Alec and Lily walked into a barbed-wire tunnel. Alec could hear the sounds and glimpse the lights of a Market, but the tunnel split off in two directions. The guard took them to the left, away from light and sound, into a shed lined with wards and metal. The room was lit by a single lantern that hung from the ceiling. Broken weapons were fixed on the walls, and there was a roughly hewn circular platform in the center of the room, and on that platform a huge chair. There were crossed axes on the back of that chair, and a row of glittering spikes ran along the top. A slender faerie girl, with a crown of thorns and a wistful face, was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the throne.

  Upon the throne was a young woman who looked about Alec’s age. She was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, her legs swung carelessly over the throne’s arm, the row of spikes glinting above her light hair. This must be the woman Jem had written about, the werewolf Queen of the Market.

  She saw Alec and her face went blank. Then she started to smile and said in English but with a distinct French accent, “Alec! It’s really you. I can’t believe it!”

  This was very awkward.

  “Sorry,” said Alec. “Have we met?”

  The werewolf swung her legs to the floor, leaning forward. “I’m Juliette.”

  “I’m not Romeo,” said Lily. “But you are cute, so tell us more about yourself in your sexy accent.”

  “Um, who are you?” asked Juliette.

  “Lily Chen,” said Lily.

  “Head of the New York vampire clan,” added Alec.

  “Oh, of course,” said Juliette. “From the Alliance! Thank you for coming with Alec to help us. It’s a real privilege to meet you.”

  Lily beamed. “I know, right?”

  Juliette’s eyes went back to Alec. The way she was looking at him, wide-eyed and startled, did ring a faint bell.

  “And this is my daughter Rose,” said Juliette the werewolf, her hands firm on the young faerie’s shoulders.

  Alec didn’t recognize the woman, but he recognized that tone of voice. He knew how it was to lay claim to what you loved, all the more insistently because people doubted the love that belonged to you. Alec wasn’t sure what to say, so he did one of his favorite things. He produced his phone and found a really good picture, walked up to the dais, and showed it to them both.

  “This is my son, Max.”

  Juliette and Rose leaned forward. Alec saw the werewolf’s eyes flicker, saw the moment where it registered with Juliette that Max was a warlock.

  “Oh.” Juliette’s voice was soft. “He’s beautiful.”

  “I think so,” said Alec shyly, and showed them a few more pictures. Alec found it difficult to select the best pictures. So many of them were great. It was hard to take a bad picture of Max.

  Juliette gave the adolescent faerie a push between the shoulder blades.

  “Go get your brother and sister,” she urged. “Quick.”

  Rose sprang to her feet, faerie light, cast a shy sidelong glance at Alec, and ran out.

  “You know me,” said Alec. “How?”

  “You saved my life,” Juliette said. “Five years ago, when demons attacked the Orient Express.”

  “Oh,” said Alec.

  His and Magnus’s first vacation. He tried not to think of the less pleasant aspects of that trip, but he remembered the train, the warm falling water and the shine of demons’ eyes, the screaming wind and the abyss below. He’d been terrified for Magnus that night.

  “You fought demons on the Orient Express?” Lily asked with interest.

  “I fight demons in lots of places,” said Alec. “It was all very normal.”

  “I’d never seen anything like it in my life,” Juliette told Lily enthusiastically. “There were so many demons! They broke the windows. I thought I was about to be killed. Then Alec took out every demon he saw. He was soaking wet, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.”

  Alec didn’t see how that was relevant.

  “Very normal,” he repeated. “Except normally I wear a shirt.”

  Lily’s eyes were dancing with glee. “What a wild time you seem to have on holiday, Alec.”

  “I had a totally standard and boring time,” Alec told her.

  “Sounds like it.”

  “And I was at that party in Venice,” Juliette continued. “When the mansion collapsed.”

  “I was there too!” said Lily. “Raphael was super sad to be at a party; it was hilarious. I made out with so many people, it was a personal record. I think one of them was a hot blonde! Was it you?”

  Juliette blinked. “Er, no. I don’t really . . . make out with girls.”

  Lily shrugged. “Sorry you’re wasting your life.”

  “I don’t either,” Alec commented mildly.r />
  Juliette nodded. “I remember Magnus at that party too. He was trying to help.”

  Alec heard his own voice go low and tender, entirely out of his control. “He always does.”

  There was a clatter of feet behind them. Rose the faerie girl had returned. There were two more kids hand in hand with her now, another faerie girl with the sturdy build of a goblin and a dark-skinned warlock boy with a fox tail. They ran up to the chair and clustered about Juliette. The girl looked about ten, and the boy no more than six.

  “Kids,” said Juliette, “this is Alec Lightwood, whom I’ve told you about. Alec, these are my kids.”

  “Hi,” said Alec.

  The kids stared.

  “When you saved me on the Orient Express,” said Juliette, “I asked how I could repay you, and you said you’d seen a faerie child alone in the Paris Shadow Market. You asked me if I could look out for her. I’d never spoken to a Shadowhunter before. I didn’t think they were like you. I was—surprised you asked me that. So when I got back to Paris, I went looking for her. My Rosey and I have been together ever since.”

  She ruffled Rose’s wispy hair around her crown of thorns. Rose flushed green.

  “Maman. Do not embarrass me in front of Alec Lightwood!”

  The Paris Shadow Market Alec and Magnus had visited on their first vacation together had been Alec’s first Market ever. The Downworlders hadn’t been used to him then, and he hadn’t been used to them. He did recall the faerie child he’d seen there: how skinny she’d been, and how sorry he’d been for her.

  She’d been about the same age as his baby brother, whom Max was named for. Unlike his brother, she had lived to be older.

  “Rose,” Alec said. “How grown up you are now.”

  Rose beamed.

  “We were happy together in Paris, you and I, weren’t we, ma petite?” Juliette asked Rose, sounding wistful. “I thought the end of the war with Valentine would be an end to all wars. But then there was another war, and so many Shadowhunters died, and so many faeries, too. And the Cold Peace began.”

  She fixed her eyes on Alec. The light from the lantern above the throne caught her eyes, like headlights catching the eyes of a wolf.

  “I heard about you and Magnus, and the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance you set up. You were both helping people. I wanted to do that too. I heard about people hunting faeries in Belgium, and I got my youngest girl out.”

  Rose’s hands closed on the goblin girl’s shoulders. Alec recognized that gesture too: the constant worry of the oldest in the family, the knowledge that you were responsible for the younger ones.

  “Then I heard about Buenos Aires,” said Juliette. “The Institute in the city was crushed in the Dark War. Most of the Downworlders fled the city before the Institute fell. The Downworlders of the Shadow Market ran here, and for a time cooperated with the surviving Shadowhunters, but then the Clave sent a new leader to the Institute. Breakspear was supposed to help, but Shadow Markets in Europe began to hear dark rumors. I came to see if there was anything I could do. At the time, I thought we could work with the Shadowhunters, rebuild the Institute in the city of Buenos Aires, and make sure the Shadow Market could return safely. It didn’t work out that way. I’ve lost all hope for the Shadowhunters of this Institute.”

  The little boy lifted his arms to her, and Juliette picked him up, cuddling him on her knee. The boy watched Alec, sucking thoughtfully on the tip of his fox tail.

  “There were a lot of children orphaned in the war,” said Juliette. “The Shadow Market here became a refuge for unwanted children. A haphazard kind of orphanage, among the stalls and lights and magic. The Market became a community, because we needed one, a Market that never ceased. People live inside these walls. My baby was left here, because he manifested his warlock mark so young.”

  “So did Max,” said Alec.

  “There are so many kids.” Juliette closed her eyes.

  “What’s wrong with this Institute?” Alec asked. “Why hasn’t someone reached out to the Clave?”

  “We did,” Juliette returned. “It was useless. Breakspear has powerful friends. He made sure the message went right to a man called Horace Dearborn. Do you know him?”

  Alec’s eyes narrowed. “I know him.”

  The aftereffects of too many wars and the constant pressure of the Cold Peace provided opportunities for a certain kind of person. Horace Dearborn was one of the type who flourished on unrest and fear.

  “After the Institute was destroyed by the Endarkened,” said Juliette, “Clive Breakspear arrived here with that man Dearborn’s name behind him, like a vulture glutting himself on the remains. The word is, his Shadowhunters take missions for money. Like—if someone wanted a rival dead, Breakspear’s Shadowhunters would see it done. They don’t hunt demons. They don’t hunt Downworlders who break the Law. They hunt us all.”

  Alec’s stomach turned. “They’re mercenaries.”

  “The decent Shadowhunters left, when they couldn’t make any difference to the way things were done,” said Juliette. “I don’t think they talked. I think they were ashamed. This Market, with all the kids in it—the Market wasn’t safe. It seemed like the leaders were being picked off, so people would be more vulnerable. They didn’t try for me. I’ve got friends in Paris and in Brussels who would raise a howl if I disappeared. So I ordered wards and fences put up. I let people call me a queen. I tried to seem as strong as I could, so they wouldn’t come at us. But things are getting worse, not better. Female werewolves are disappearing.”

  “Killed?” asked Alec.

  “I don’t know,” said Juliette. “We thought they were running at first, but there are too many. Mothers who wouldn’t have left their families. Girls as young as my Rosey. Some people say they’ve seen a strange warlock about. I have no idea what’s happening to those women, but I knew I couldn’t trust anyone at the Institute to find out. I won’t risk trusting any Shadowhunter. Except you. I put out the word I wanted you. I wasn’t sure you would come, but here you are.”

  She lifted her face imploringly to Alec’s. The Queen of the Shadow Market looked, in that moment, as young as the kids clustered around her.

  “Will you help me? One more time?”

  “As many times as you need me,” said Alec. “I’ll find those women. I’ll find out who’s doing this. I’ll stop them. You have my word.”

  He hesitated, remembering Jem and Tessa’s mission.

  “I have friends here, besides Lily. A warlock woman and a man who used to be a Silent Brother, with a white streak in his hair. Can they enter the Market? I swear to you they can be trusted.”

  “I think I know who you mean,” Juliette said. “They were asking for admittance a few nights back, weren’t they? I heard the man was handsome.”

  “Boy, did you hear right,” said Lily.

  Juliette’s smile spread. “There really are some very handsome Nephilim around.”

  “Uh, I guess,” said Alec. “I don’t really think about Jem that way.”

  “How can you be good at archery, when you’re so blind?” Lily demanded.

  Alec rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Juliette. I’ll let you know as soon as I find something out.”

  Juliette said softly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I won’t leave until I’ve helped you,” said Alec, then glanced at the kids, who were still staring. “Um. Bye, kids. It was very nice to meet you.”

  He nodded to them awkwardly, then made his way back toward the lights and music of the Market.

  “Okay,” he told Lily as they walked. “Let’s take a quick look around the Market, ask some questions before we meet Jem and Tessa.”

  “Let’s drop by the faerie fruit gin stall!” Lily suggested.

  Alec said, “No.”

  “We can’t be all business all the time,” said Lily, who was seldom all business for five minutes. “So, who do you think is hot?” When Alec stared at her, she said, “We’re on a bro road trip! We’re mea
nt to share secrets. You said not Jem. So who?”

  Alec shook his head at a faerie trying to sell them charmed bracelets, though she insisted they were real charms and really charming. When Alec asked about the disappearances, the faerie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t know any more than Juliette.

  “Magnus is hot,” Alec said finally, as they went on their way.

  Lily rolled her eyes. “Wow, you and Monogamous Bane make me tired. He’s even dumber than you are.”

  “He’s not dumb.”

  “An immortal who sets his soft heart on one person?” Lily bit her lip, fangs pressing down too hard. “That’s dumb.”

  “Lily,” said Alec, but Lily was shaking her head and proceeding, her voice firmly light.

  “Leaving aside your destined honey lamb and all, I know there was Jace. Is it just guys with golden eyes?” asked Lily. “That is a very particular taste you have there, friend. It really narrows the playing field. So no other crushes besides Jace? Even a teeny tiny one when you were young?”

  “Why are you leering like you know something I don’t?” Alec asked warily.

  Lily giggled.

  There was a lot of noise happening behind one of the stalls. Alec turned his head toward it automatically, but also because he didn’t know how to explain that specific crushes hadn’t been the problem. It had been a relief, in a way, to pretend even to himself that a crush on Jace was the thing that was making him miserable.

  Even when he was a kid, he’d found his attention caught by posters of mundane men in the streets of New York, or found himself drawn to guys visiting the Institute, listening from behind his vase to their stories of demon-hunting and thinking they were cool. He’d had unfocused childish daydreams, created hazy bright dreamlands featuring boys, and then he’d lost the dream with his childhood. He’d been too young to understand himself, and then he hadn’t been. He heard the way Shadowhunter visitors sneered, how his dad hinted at the subject as if it were too awful even to be said outright, when saying things outright was the only way Alec knew how to say them. Alec felt guilty every time he had to pull his eyes off another boy, even just a curious look, and then there had been Magnus, and he hadn’t been able to look away from him at all.