Ghosts of the Shadow Market

by Cassandra Clare

  Rafael’s eyes opened. There was a flash of Tessa’s pearlescent magic in his dark irises, then it was lost. The child sat up, looking perfectly all right, well and whole and somewhat annoyed. He gazed into their distraught faces and asked, in clipped Spanish, “Where is he?”

  “He’s in there,” Lily answered.

  The narrow cobbled street was full of members of the Shadow Market seeing to the werewolf victims or herding Shadowhunters, with some different, deeply nervous-looking Shadowhunters tentatively assisting or trying to put out the flames. Lily was not doing any of that. She stared at the house with her arms crossed and her eyes dark with tears.

  As they watched, part of the roof collapsed. Rafe started forward. Tessa lunged and seized him, holding him as he strained against her grip. Jem stood.

  “No, Jem,” said Tessa. “Take the child. Let me go in.”

  Jem tried to take Rafe, but he was fighting them both. Then Rafe went still. Jem twisted around to see what the child was looking at.

  What everybody was looking at. There was a ripple in the crowd, then a hush. Jem did not think any of the Shadow Market or the Institute would forget what had happened here tonight.

  From the swirling smoke, out of the collapsing building, came two Shadowhunters with werewolves in their arms. They walked tall, their faces grim, and people parted to let them pass.

  The women had been saved, and the child. Jem felt new resolution rise in him. Tessa was right. If Rosemary could be saved, he would save her. If there was a child, he and Tessa would stand between that child and the Riders and the King.

  Alec carried the werewolf he bore to Tessa, who immediately began enchanting the smoke from her lungs. Then he dropped to his knees in front of Rafe.

  “Hey, my baby,” said Alec. “Are you all right?”

  Rafael might not have entirely understood the language, but anyone could have understood the message of Alec on his knees in the rubble, the love and concern on his face. Rafael nodded, dust drifting from his curly hair, and walked into Alec’s open arms. Alec folded the little boy against his chest.

  “Thank you both,” Alec said to Tessa and Jem. “You’re heroes.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Jem.

  “You’re a moron,” said Lily, and put her face in her hands.

  Alec rose and patted her awkwardly on the back, Rafe held in the circle of his other arm. He turned to Juliette, who had called one of her warlocks over to see to the werewolf in Joaquín’s arms.

  “You got them all out.” Juliette smiled at them both, her expression wondering, as if she were as young as Rafe and seeing magic for the first time. “You did it.”

  “The werewolf woman who was looking after Rafe,” said Alec. “Is she . . . here?”

  Juliette looked at the ashes drifting on the cobbled streets. The fire was dying, now that Tessa could spare magic to cool the flames, but the house was a ruin.

  “No,” said Juliette. “My girls tell me she was one of the first to die.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alec told her, then his voice changed as he addressed Rafe. “Rafe, I have to ask you something,” he said. “Solomillo—”

  “Steak?” Lily smirked.

  “Dammit,” said Alec. “Sorry, Rafe. But will you come back with me to New York? You can—I have to talk to—if you don’t like it there, you don’t have to—”

  Rafe watched him stumble over his words.

  “I can’t understand you, fool,” he said sweetly in Spanish, and tucked his head down under Alec’s chin, his arms going around Alec’s neck.

  “Okay,” said Alec. “Good. I think.”

  Tessa walked away from the burned-out building. There were several warlocks in the crowd watching her with awe, Jem noted proudly. She strode over to the bound warlock and the head of the Buenos Aires Institute.

  “Shall we ask Magnus to open a Portal for them?” she asked.

  “Not just yet,” said Alec.

  There was a change in his demeanor, his shoulders going back, his face stern. If it weren’t for the child in his arms, he might have been fearsome.

  Alec Lightwood, leader of the Alliance, said, “First, I want a word.”

  * * *

  Alec looked around at the assembled faces. His breathing felt as if it were tearing his throat and his eyes were still stinging, but he was holding Rafe, so everything was perfectly all right.

  Except for the fact that he had no idea what to say. He couldn’t know how many of the Shadowhunters had cooperated with the capture and torture of these women. He suspected most of them had gone along with their leader’s orders, but he didn’t know how responsible that made them. If he arrested everybody, then the Institute would be left an empty ruin. The people here were owed protection.

  “Clive Breakspear, the head of the Buenos Aires Institute, broke the Accords and will pay for it,” he said at last, and paused. “Lily, can you translate for me?”

  “Absolutely, yes,” Lily said promptly, and began to do so.

  Alec listened to her talk, watched the faces of the people listening, and saw a few smirks. Alec listened more intently and picked up a word.

  “Boludo,” Alec said to Jem. “What does that mean?”

  Jem coughed. “It’s not . . . a polite word.”

  “I knew it,” Alec said. “Lily, stop translating! Sorry, Jem, could you translate instead?”

  Jem nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “The head of your Institute has brought shame on us all,” Alec told the Shadowhunters. “I could bring everybody here to Alicante. I could have every one of you put to the trial of the Sword. I know you were left after the war, to rebuild as best you could, and instead of leading you, this man brought more ruin. But the Law says that I should make each of you pay.”

  Alec thought of Helen and Mark Blackthorn, cut off from their family by the Cold Peace. He thought of the way Magnus had sunk his face into his hands, despairing, when the Cold Peace was passed. Alec never wanted to see that despair again. Every day since that day, he’d tried to work out ways that they could all live united.

  “What happened in that house should sicken any Shadowhunter,” said Alec. “We have to earn back the trust of everyone we have wronged. Joaquín, you will know the names of every man who was in Breakspear’s inner circle. They will go with their leader to stand trial. For the rest, it is time for a new leader and a new chance to live as Nephilim should.”

  He glanced at Joaquín, who was wiping tears from his eyes. Alec frowned at him and mouthed, “What?”

  “Oh, it’s j-just the way Jem is translating,” Joaquín explained. “I mean, your speech is good too, very stern, it makes me want to do everything you say. And Jem is basically repeating it, but it’s the way he puts things, you know? It’s beautiful.”

  “Uh-huh,” Alec said.

  Joaquín grabbed his free hand. “You be the new head of the Institute.”

  “No, I will not,” Alec snapped.

  People were always trying to make him head of Institutes, and it made Alec tired. He couldn’t change enough, if he took that kind of position. He had more important things to do.

  “No,” repeated Alec, less grouchily but no less firmly. “I’m not Clive Breakspear. I’m here to help you, not to take over. When you saw what was happening, you told your men to stand down. You should act as the head of your own Institute until the Consul can consider your case.”

  Joaquín stood amazed. Alec nodded at him.

  “You can work with the Shadow Market to rebuild,” he said. “I can provide you with resources.”

  “So can I,” said Juliette.

  Joaquín stared at her, then swung his head back to Alec.

  “The Queen of the Shadow Market,” said Alec. “Do you think you will be able to cooperate with her?”

  Juliette gave Joaquín a hostile look. There was still a suggestion of wolfish teeth in her mouth. Joaquín reached out, as if to point to the blood on Juliette’s hands, and Alec wondered for a nas
ty moment if the hatred between the Nephilim and the Downworlders in this place ran too deep.

  Joaquín lifted Juliette’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “I did not know,” he breathed, “that the Queen of the Shadow Market was so beautiful.”

  Alec realized abruptly that he’d gotten everything wrong. Juliette mouthed several shocked demands for explanation, and several more French expletives, at Alec over Joaquín’s bowed head.

  “Shadowhunters go so hard.” Lily cackled.

  “Okay, fine, glad we’re entering into the spirit of cooperation,” said Alec, and turned back to the crowd. “This Nephilim child is now under the protection of the New York Institute,” he said. “Let’s say this was a very standard and normal adoption. Let’s say that though the head of your Institute was corrupt, you survived under a bad leader and kept your honor. You hold Breakspear here until he can be tried. I will, of course, be returning here often to finalize details of the adoption, and I’ll see what is happening. I want to believe in my fellow Shadowhunters. Don’t let me down.”

  He had no doubt Jem would make that sound better in Spanish. He turned back to Juliette, who had succeeded with difficulty in freeing her hand and was retreating several steps under Joaquín’s rapt gaze.

  “I should be getting back to my kids!” she said, gesturing to the three kids. Rosey gave Alec a little wave.

  “Oh,” said Joaquín, a world of devastation in the syllable, then he seemed to notice the lack of anyone else with the kids. “Has it been very difficult, ruling the Shadow Market as a single mother?” he asked with sudden transparent hope.

  “Well, none of this has exactly been easy!” said Juliette.

  Joaquín beamed at her. “That’s wonderful.”

  “What?” said Juliette.

  Joaquín was already heading toward the kids, on an obvious mission to endear himself to them. Alec hoped he had a lot of candies.

  Juliette demanded, “Did he inhale a lot of smoke in there?”

  “Probably,” said Alec.

  “Shadowhunters get very set on things,” said Lily. “Very set. Do you enjoy intensely serious romantic commitment?”

  “I don’t know his name,” Juliette pointed out. She sneaked a self-conscious look over at Joaquín, whose endearing of himself seemed to be going very well. He had Juliette’s warlock boy up on his shoulders.

  “His name’s Joaquín,” Alec said helpfully.

  Juliette smiled. “I suppose I do like some Shadowhunters. It’s always a pleasure, Alec Lightwood. Thanks for everything.”

  “It was nothing,” said Alec.

  Juliette strolled over to her kids, calling out to them to stop bothering the head of the Institute.

  Alec looked around at the smoke drifting up to the stars and the people in the streets all talking to each other without barriers. His eyes fell on Tessa and Jem.

  “Is it time to go home?” Tessa asked.

  Alec bit his lip, then nodded. “I’ll text Magnus and ask him to open a Portal.”

  There was an official protocol for adopting Shadowhunter children. He knew that he and Rafael would have to go back and forth from Buenos Aires several times, but this trip home would be worth it, even if it did not last long. Alec wanted to take Rafael home as soon as he could.

  He was tired, and he wanted to sleep in his own bed.

  “I don’t suppose you have any ideas for how I can explain all this to Magnus?” he asked Jem.

  “I think you’ll find all the words you need, Alec,” said Jem.

  “Thanks, that’s very helpful.”

  Jem smiled. “You even found a way to make the boy who doesn’t like anybody like you. Thanks for all your help, Alec.”

  Alec wished he could help more, but he knew that at least for now he had done his part. They all had to trust each other, and he did trust his friends. If there was a Herondale in danger, they could not ask for better protection than Jem and Tessa.

  “I didn’t do much, but it was good to see you both. Good luck with the Herondale.”

  Jem nodded. “Thank you. I think we might need it.”

  The Portal was open, and shimmering.

  “Bye, Jem,” said Lily.

  “Oh, no nickname?” Jem sounded pleased. “Bye, Lily.”

  Alec studied Rafe’s face. “Do you like me?” he asked.

  Rafe beamed and shook his head, then secured his arms more tightly around Alec’s neck.

  “Oh, fine, that you understand,” Alec grumbled. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  They stepped out of the Portal into the electric starriness of a New York night. Alec could see his apartment down the street, the shimmer of a witchlight behind pale blue curtains. He checked his watch: it was past Max’s bedtime. Max fought bedtime like it was a demon, so Magnus was probably reading him a fifth story or singing him a third song.

  Every brown-and-white facade, every tree surrounded by wire on the cracked sidewalk, was dear to him. Alec used to think, when he was younger and felt as if he might die amid the crushing expectations and stone walls of the Institute, that he might feel better if he could live among the glass towers of Alicante. He hadn’t known home was across the city, waiting for him.

  He set Rafe on the steps of their building and hopped him up one step, then swung him up another, for sheer joy. He opened the door to home.

  “Alec,” boomed a voice behind him.

  Alec jumped. Lily swiftly thrust Rafael behind the protection of Alec’s front door and spun, lip curling from her needle-sharp teeth.

  Alec turned as well, very slowly. He wasn’t scared. He knew that voice.

  “Alec,” said Robert Lightwood. “We need to talk.”

  “Okay, Dad,” said Alec. “Lily, I need to explain everything to Magnus, so could you watch Rafe for a second?”

  Lily nodded, still giving Robert the evil eye. There was a pause.

  “Hello, Lily,” Robert added gruffly.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked Lily.

  “My dad,” said Alec. “The Inquisitor. The second most important person in the Clave. Someone you have met at least twenty-six times.”

  “I don’t recall,” said Lily.

  Alec’s incredulous look was mirrored on his father’s face.

  “Lily,” said Robert. “I know you know me.”

  “Never gonna, don’t wanna.” Lily shut the door of Alec’s apartment building in his father’s face.

  There was an awkward silence.

  “Sorry about that,” said Alec finally, jogging down the steps to join his father on the sidewalk.

  “All your other vampires like me,” muttered Robert.

  Alec blinked. “My other vampires?”

  “Your friend Elliott reaches out whenever Lily leaves him in charge,” explained Robert. “He says he feels in need of Lightwood guidance. I visited the Hotel Dumort while you were away, and the vampires had a little dinner just for me, and they all talked to me about you. Elliott gave me his phone number, I presume so I can call him in case of emergencies. Elliott’s always charming to me.”

  Alec didn’t know how to break it to his dad that Elliott was shamelessly hitting on him.

  “Huh,” said Alec.

  “How is Magnus? Doing well? Dressing, uh, uniquely?”

  “Still gorgeous,” said Alec defiantly. “Yeah.”

  His father looked abashed. Alec wasn’t comfortable talking about how he felt, but he wasn’t ashamed, and nobody was going to make him be ashamed ever again. He didn’t know why his father never stopped poking at him, with the obsessive curiosity of a child poking at a scab.

  When he was younger, his dad used to joke insistently about Alec and girls. It was too painful to respond to those comments. Alec talked less and less.

  He remembered the day he’d walked out of the Institute to find Magnus. He’d met Magnus twice and couldn’t forget him. The Institute lay behind him, its stark outlines cutting the sky. He’d been breathless an
d terrified, with one thought very clear in his mind.

  Is this how you want to live your whole life?

  Then he’d gone to Magnus’s place and asked him out.

  Alec couldn’t bear the idea of one of his kids ever feeling trapped in their own home. He knew his dad hadn’t meant to do that. But he had.

  “How’s my little M&M?” asked Robert.

  Max’s middle name was Michael, after Robert’s long-dead parabatai.

  Usually that was Alec’s cue to take out his phone and show his dad all the new pictures of Max he possessed, but he was in a hurry today.

  “He’s the best,” Alec said. “Is there something you need, Dad?”

  “I heard some rumors about the Buenos Aires Institute,” said Robert. “I heard you were there.”

  “Right,” said Alec. “Clive Breakspear, the head of the Institute, had his Shadowhunters acting as mercenaries. They’ll need to stand trial. But I encouraged a change in leadership. The Buenos Aires Institute is going to be all right.”

  “This is why I needed to talk to you, Alec,” said Robert.

  Alec studied the cracks in the sidewalk and tried to think of a way to explain everything that would implicate nobody else.

  “Do you know, the positions of Consul and Inquisitor often stay within the same families? I’ve been thinking about what happens when the time comes for me to retire.”

  Alec stared at a weed growing through the cracks in the sidewalk. “I don’t think Jace wants to be Inquisitor, Dad.”

  “Alec,” said Robert. “I’m not talking to Jace. I’m talking to you.”

  Alec jolted. “What?”

  He looked up from the sidewalk. His father was smiling at him as if he meant it.

  Alec remembered his own words. The Inquisitor. The second most important person in the Clave.

  Alec allowed himself a moment to dream. Being Inquisitor, and having a hand in the making of the Law itself. Being able to get Aline and Helen back. Being able to put some sort of dent in the Cold Peace. Being able, Alec thought with slow-dawning hope, to get married.