Julian was calling for people to be quiet, but his voice was drowned out by the noise. Feeling that this was an area in which she could excel, Emma jumped up onto the table and shouted. “EVERYONE,” she yelled. “EVERYONE SHUT UP.”
The decibel level fell immediately. Emma could see Cristina giggling, her hand over her mouth. Beside her, Jace shot finger guns at Julie Beauvale, who had turned bright pink.
“Good to see you, bestie,” he said.
Simon’s shoulders were shaking. Isabelle, who had been watching with a half smile, patted his back.
Clary scrunched her nose at Jace and then turned to the crowd. “Thank you,” she said, her voice low but carrying. “We’re glad to be here.”
The room fell pin-drop silent.
Emma jumped down from the table. Julian was surveying the assembly, hands looped behind his back, as if wondering what he thought of the situation he’d architected. People were staring, rapt and silent, at Clary and Jace. So this is what it’s like to be heroes, Emma thought, looking at the expressions on the faces of the crowd. To be the ones with angel blood, the ones who’ve literally saved the world. People look at you as if . . . almost as if you’re not real.
“Inquisitor Lightwood sent us to Faerie,” Clary said. “To seek a weapon in the possession of the Unseelie King, one that would be deadly to Shadowhunters. We discovered that the Unseelie King had opened a Portal to another world, one without angelic magic. He was using the earth from that other world to create the blight you have heard of—the one eating through Brocelind Forest.”
“That blight was eradicated the night before last,” said Jace. “By a team of Nephilim and Fair Folk, working together.”
Now the silence broke: There was a buzz of confused voices.
“But we are not the only Nephilim working with faeries,” said Clary. “The current King of Unseelie, Oban, and the Cohort have been working together. It was the Cohort who arranged for him to be put on the throne.”
“How do we know that’s true?” shouted Joaquin Acosta Romero, of the Buenos Aires Institute. He was sitting beside the French werewolf girl, his arm around her shoulders.
“Because they have done nothing but lie to you,” said Mark. “They told you Jace and Clary were dead. They told you faeries slaughtered them. Here they stand, alive.”
“Why would the Unseelie Court agree to be part of a scheme in which they were blamed for murder?” said Vivianne Penhallow.
Everyone looked expectantly at Julian.
“Because the Cohort and the Unseelie King have already agreed on exactly what both of them will get from this parley,” he said. “The parley is a performance. That is why Horace is Projecting it so every Shadowhunter can see it. Because the performance is more important than the outcome. If he is seen to get what he wants from the Fair Folk, then confidence in the Cohort will grow so strong that we will never have a chance to unseat them.”
Emma tried to hide a smile. You’re really back, Julian, she thought.
“This is a government that will murder its own to control its own,” said Jace. The smirk was gone from his face, and any pretense at amusement: His expression was stony and cold. “This time, it was us. By luck, we survived and are standing here to tell you our story. The Inquisitor is meant to uphold the Law. Not to hide behind it as an alibi for murdering their own.”
“What about murdering those who aren’t Shadowhunters?” called a naga sitting near some of the Keo family.
“We’re against that, too,” said Jace.
“We’ve had bad members of our government before,” said Julian. “But this is different. They’ve broken the system that might fix the situation. They’re manipulating the Clave, manipulating us all. They are creating the illusion of threats to control us all through fear. They claim that faeries murdered Jace and Clary so they can declare an unjustified war—and under the cloak of that chaos, they put our Consul in prison. Who can speak against the war now?”
A blond Nephilim raised a hand. “Oskar Lindquist here,” he said. “Stockholm Institute. Are you saying we shouldn’t go to Alicante? The parley is scheduled for tomorrow. If we do not arrive there tonight, we will be considered deserters. Traitors.”
“No,” Julian said. “In fact, we need you to join the other Shadowhunters in Alicante as if everything is normal. Do nothing to alarm the Cohort. The parley is going to take place on the Imperishable Fields. We—the resistance—are going to interrupt it, with everyone watching. We will present our proof, and when that is done, we need you there to stand up for us and hold the Clave accountable for what they’ve done.”
“We’re the proof,” Jace added, indicating himself and Clary.
“I think they knew that,” Emma muttered. She saw Jem, in the audience, give her an amused look, and tensed. It is something so horrible that I would never repeat it. I would never do it. Not under any circumstances.
She determinedly put his words out of her mind. She couldn’t think about that right now.
“Why do this during the parley?” called Morena Pedroso, the head of the Rio Institute. A bored-looking girl about Dru’s age, with long brown hair, sat beside her. “Why not confront them sooner?”
“Horace wants—no, he needs—everyone to see him triumph over the Unseelie forces,” said Julian. “Every Shadowhunter in Idris is going to be watching him via a massive Projection.” There was a murmur of surprise among the Downworlders. “That means they’ll be able to see and hear not just him but, if we join him—us. This is our chance. The Cohort is bringing everyone together in a way we don’t have the power to do. This is our opportunity to show all Shadowhunters what the Cohort truly is.”
“And what if it comes to a battle? We’ll be fighting other Shadowhunters,” said Oskar Lindquist. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who doesn’t want that.”
“Hopefully we can do this without a fight,” said Julian. “But if it comes to one, we must be ready.”
“So you have a plan for Shadowhunters,” called Hypatia Vex. She looked over at Kit and Ty and winked; Emma wondered what that was about but didn’t have time to dwell on it. “What about us? Why did you bring Downworlders here?”
“To witness,” said Julian. “We’re aligned here. We’re on the same side against the Cohort. We know we’re better, stronger, when Downworlders and Shadowhunters work together. And we wanted you to know that even if the Cohort are loud and hateful, they’re a minority. You have allies.” He glanced around the room. “A few of you will be with us. Kieran Kingson. Magnus Bane. But as for the rest of you—after the Shadowhunters pass through the Portals to Idris, you will need to return home to your people. Because if you don’t hear from us after the parley, you can assume we were defeated. And if we are defeated, you’re in danger.”
“We can withstand the Cohort,” said Nene, and Mark looked at her in surprise. “There are many fewer of them than there are Downworlders.”
“If we lose, it won’t be only the Cohort you need to fear,” said Julian. “Once good Shadowhunters can no longer stand up to them, they will begin to destroy and control Downworlders. And while they do that, there will be nobody left to stand against the tide of evil from other worlds. They care so much about their prejudice, their imagined purity, and their Laws, that they have forgotten our mandate: Protect this world from demons.”
A whisper went around the room; a sound of horror. I have seen the world overrun by demons, Emma wanted to say. There is no place there for Downworlders.
“We’re an army. A resistance,” Emma said. “We are seeking justice. It won’t be pretty, but it’ll only get worse. The longer we wait, the more damage they’ll do and the more blood will be spilled stopping them.”
“Horace doesn’t want a war,” said Diana. “He wants glory. If it looks like he’s facing danger, I believe he’ll back off.”
“If we’re an army, what are we called?” said Simon.
Julian turned and unpinned the rolled-up canvas hanging on the wall b
ehind him, which had been held in place with tacks. A gasp went up as it unfurled.
Julian had painted a banner, the kind an army would carry before it in wartime. The central item was a saber, point down, painted a shimmering pale gold. Behind the saber spread a pair of angel’s wings, while all around it clustered symbols of Downworld—a star for vampires, a spell book for warlocks, a moon for werewolves, and a four-leaf clover for faeries.
Dangling from the hilt of the saber was a locket with a circle of thorns on the front.
“We are called Livia’s Watch,” Julian said, and Emma saw Ty sit up straighter in his chair. “We carry this banner in honor of my sister, so that all who have been hurt by the Cohort will not be forgotten.”
Jace swept his gaze around the room. “If there is anyone who doesn’t want to fight alongside us, they can depart now. No hard feelings.”
The room was silent. Not a chair moved. Not a single person rose. Still leaning against the wall near the doors, the Iron Sister and Silent Brother who had come to observe the proceedings were motionless.
Only Emma heard Julian’s low exhale of relief. “Now,” he said. “Let’s finalize the plan.”
* * *
Dru, sitting on a hillock of grass, watched as a dozen warlocks created Portals on the Institute’s front lawn.
It certainly wasn’t something she’d ever thought she was going to see. The occasional warlock or Portal, sure, but not this many of them at one time.
Through the Portals, she could see the fields in front of the walls of Alicante: It was impossible to Portal directly into the Shadowhunter city without advance permission; the closest you could get was the front gates. Which was fine anyway, because the Shadowhunters needed to check in with the Cohort and make sure Dearborn knew they were there. Dru was a little disappointed—she’d been hoping they’d be rushing into the city, swords flashing, but that wasn’t Julian’s style. If he could get what he wanted without a fight, he would.
A few feet away, Tavvy was humming, running an old toy car up and down a smooth-sided rock.
She’d sat by herself during the meeting, though Kit had given her an encouraging smile at one point. And she had seen Julian look at her when he’d said “Livia’s Watch.” He’d looked at them all, scattered through the room: Mark and Helen, Dru and Tavvy, and last of all, Ty.
Dru had been worried since the night before, when Ty had come out of that weird cave by the beach. Kit had followed him and hadn’t been there, as she had, to see the look on Ty’s face when he’d first stepped outside. It was a hard look to explain. Half as if he might cry and half as if he might break down the way he sometimes did when things overwhelmed him. Livvy had always been able to calm him down, but Dru didn’t know if she could do the same. She was no replacement for Livvy.
Then Kit had come outside, and Ty’s expression had changed, as if he’d realized something. And Kit seemed relieved, and Dru wanted to be relieved too.
She’d worried about Ty when Julian had revealed the banner, and there had been Livvy’s locket, the one Ty wore now, curled around a saber. And when Julian had said the words “Livia’s Watch,” hot tears had burned the back of Dru’s eyes. She’d felt proud but also hollow where the piece inside her that had been Livvy had been lost to the darkness.
Julian stood by the Sanctuary doors, speaking to the dark-haired Iron Sister who had come to the meeting. The last of the Shadowhunters were passing through the Portals. Some of the Downworlders remained inside the Sanctuary, avoiding the sun; others stood and looked at the ocean and chatted among themselves. Maryse Lightwood stood by the Portal Magnus had created, smiling as she watched Max and Rafe run in circles around Alec.
Rocks and sand crunched: Dru looked up and saw Julian standing over her, silhouetted by the sun. “Hey, kiddo,” he said.
“What’s going on with the Iron Sisters and Silent Brothers?” said Dru. “Are they on our side?”
“The Iron Sisters have already rejected the Cohort,” said Julian. “They’re backing us up. Sister Emilia even had a good idea about the Mortal Sword. The Silent Brothers are—well, not neutral. They don’t like the Cohort either. But any defection on their part will be more obvious and might tip our hand. They’re going to station themselves in Alicante to keep an eye on things and prevent the Cohort from getting suspicious.”
This was one of the things Dru loved about Julian. He didn’t talk down to her, not even about strategy.
“Speaking of Alicante,” she said. “It’s time for us to go, huh?”
She’d known this was coming. Julian had told her about it before the meeting. She’d thought she’d be all right with it, considering that she wanted to get into Alicante, and this was pretty much the only way it was going to happen.
Not that Julian knew that. She screwed her face into a woeful expression. “I don’t see why you have to leave us behind.”
“I’m not leaving you behind,” Julian said. “I’m sending you ahead. You are part of Livia’s Watch. Don’t forget it.”
Dru continued to scowl. Tavvy was still playing with his car, but he was also watching them out of the corner of his eye. “Semantics are nobody’s friend.”
Julian knelt down in front of her. Dru was surprised; she wouldn’t have thought he’d want to get his knees dirty when he was wearing nice clothes, but apparently he didn’t care.
“Dru,” he said. “I can’t leave you here. It isn’t safe. And I can’t take you where we’re going. There could be a battle. A big one.”
“I can fight,” Dru said.
Julian put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so that she was looking directly at him. She wondered if this was what it was like for most kids to look at their parents. This was the face she associated with praise and scoldings, with late-night nightmare assistance and hot chocolate when it was needed and Band-Aids when those were called for. Julian had held her hand through the application of her first Marks. He was the one who stuck her terrible drawings to the fridge with magnets. He never forgot a birthday.
And he was still a kid himself. It was the first time she’d been able to look at him and see it. He was young, younger than Jace and Clary or Alec and Magnus. And yet he’d stood up in front of that Sanctuary full of people and told them what they were going to do, and they’d listened.
“I know you can fight,” he said. “But if I think you’re in danger, I don’t know if I can.”
“What about Kit and Ty?”
He grinned at her. “Don’t tell them, but Magnus promised to make sure they don’t get near the actual battle.”
Dru gave a reluctant smile. “It’s going to suck not knowing if you guys are okay.”
“We’ll all be wearing Familias runes,” said Julian. “Tavvy, too. So that’s something. If you need to know how one of us is, activate yours.” His eyes darkened. “Dru, you know I’d protect you to my last breath, right? I’d give my last drop of blood for you. So would Emma.”
“I know,” Dru said. “I love you, too.”
He pulled her into a quick hug, then stood up and offered his hand. She let him pull her to her feet and dusted herself off as he picked up Tavvy. She trailed along behind the two of them as they headed toward Maryse, Max, and Rafe. She didn’t want to look as if she were in any way eager to go to Alicante. She felt a little bad about deceiving Julian, but if there was anything she’d learned from Kit and Ty in the past weeks, it was that sometimes you had to trick a trickster at his own game.
* * *
“But why are the small ones going?” said Gwyn as Diana stood watching Max, then Rafe, then Tavvy pass through the Portal to Alicante. “It was my understanding that Julian wished to keep them all together.”
Diana sighed and slipped her hand into Gwyn’s. “It’s because he loves them that he’s sending them away. Battle is no place for a child.”
“We have children in the Wild Hunt. As young as eight years, sometimes,” said Gwyn.
“Yes, but we’ve also covered
how that’s a bad thing, Gwyn.”
“Sometimes I forget all the lessons you teach me,” said Gwyn, but he sounded amused. Dru was just stepping through the Portal to Alicante: She turned at the last moment and looked back at Julian. Diana saw him nod encouragingly as Dru stepped into the whirlwind and was gone. “It is not certain there will be a battle, either.”
“It is not certain there won’t be,” Diana said. Julian had turned away from the Portal; the encouraging look he’d worn for Dru and Tavvy was gone, and he looked hollow and sad. He headed toward the Institute doors.
The false faces we wear for the ones we love, Diana thought. Julian would bleed out for these children and never ask for a bandage in fear that the question would upset them. “The children will be safe with Maryse. And not being frightened for them will free up Julian and the rest of us to do what we need to do.”
“And what is it you need to do?”
Diana tipped her head back to look up at Gwyn. “Be warriors.”
Gwyn touched a curl of her hair. “You are a warrior every day.”
Diana smiled. Julian had reached the Sanctuary doors and had turned there, looking out on the group in front of the Institute: a motley collection of warlocks, Shadowhunters, and a group of werewolves playing hacky sack. “Time to come in,” he said, his voice carrying over the sound of the sea. “The real meeting’s about to start.”
* * *
From the window of the Gard, Manuel could see Shadowhunters streaming in through the Great Gate, the main entrance to the city of Alicante. All the exits were guarded now and warded against the imaginary threat of encroaching Unseelie faeries.
“It does not seem the Blackthorns’ meeting was a success,” said Horace. He could see out the window from the Inquisitor’s big desk. It was odd, Manuel thought; he still didn’t think of Horace as the Inquisitor. Perhaps because he had never really cared who the Inquisitor or the Consul was. They were positions of power and therefore desirable, but they held no inherent meaning. “The families he invited to his little insurrection are still arriving.”
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