The Land I Lost (Ghosts of the Shadow Market Book 7)

by Cassandra Clare

  “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 nasty 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 got 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.

  “OK, 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 façade, 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 apartment 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.”

  “OK, 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.

  “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 laid on 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 and 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.

  Having his dad believe that Alec could do it. Alec knew his dad loved him, but that wasn’t the same as his dad believing in him. He hadn’t known that before.

  “I’m not saying it would be easy,” said Robert. “But several members of the Clave have mentioned it as a possibility. You know how popular you are with Downworlders.”

  “Not really,” mumbled Alec.

  “A few more people in the Clave are coming around,” said Robert. “I have that tapestry up of you, and I take care to mention your name often.”

  “Here I thought it was up because you love me.”

  Robert blinked at him, as if he was wounded by the joke. “Alec. It—it is. But I want this for you too. That’s what I came here to ask. Do you want it for yourself?”

  Alec thought of the power to change the Law from a sword that hurt people into a shield to defend them.

  “Yeah,” said Alec. “But you have to be sure you want me to have it, Dad. People won’t be happy with me taking it, and once I have it, I’m going to split the Clave apart.”

  “You are?” Robert asked, his voice faint.

  “Because I have to,” said Alec. “Because everything has to change. For everybody’s sake. And for Magnus, and our kids.”

  Robert blinked. “Your what?”

  “Oh, by the Angel,” said Alec. “Please don’t ask me any questions! I have to go! I have to talk to Magnus right away.”

  Robert said, “I am very confused.”

  “I really have to go,” said Alec. “Thanks, Dad. I mean it. Come for dinner again soon, all right? We’ll talk more about the Inquisitor thing then.”

  “All right,” said Robert. “I’d like that. When I had dinner with you three, a few weeks ago? I don’t remember the last time I had such a happy day.”

  Alec remembered how difficult it had been during Robert’s visit to keep the conversation going, how only Max prattling at his grandpa’s knee had broken the frequent silences. It broke Alec’s heart to think Robert had thought of that strained awkward dinner as happiness.

  “Come over anytime,” said Alec. “Max loves seeing his grandpa. And—thank you, Dad. Thanks for believing in me. Sorry if I caused you a lot of paperwork tonight.”

  “You saved lives tonight, Alec,” said Robert.

  He took an awkward step toward Alec, and his hand lifted, as if he was going to pat Alec on the shoulder. Then his hand dropped. He looked into Alec’s face, and his eyes were so sad.

  “You’re a good man, Alec,” he said at last. “You’re a better man than I am.”

  Alec loved his father, and would never be cruel to him. So he didn’t say: I had to be. Instead he reached out and pulled his father into an awkward hug, patting him on the shoulder before he stepped back.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  “Whenever you like,” said Robert. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  Alec waved to his dad, then ran up the steps of his building. He opened the door and bounded up his stairs to find Lily alone. The door of his loft was open a crack, light filtering through, but Lily was standing in the shadows and appeared to be filing her nails.

  “Lily,” Alec said dangerously, “where is Rafael?”

  “Oh, him.” Lily shrugged. “He heard Magnus singing some Indonesian lullaby, and he bolted inside. Nothing I could do. Shadowhunters. They’re speedy.”

  Neither of them mentioned Magnus’s wards, which couldn’t be forced by any magic or any strength Alec knew of. Magnus didn’t have wards up for anyone defenseless, anyone who might need his help. Of course a child could go through.

  Alec fixed her with a reproachful glare, but was distracted by the deep, lovely murmur of Magnus’s voice through th
e open door. His tone was warm and, as it often was, amused. Alec thought of Jem telling Tessa Your voice is the music I love best in all the world.

  “Ah, there’s that smile,” said Lily. “It’s been two days, and I missed it.”

  Alec stopped smiling and made a face at her, but when he looked at her properly, she was fiddling with the zip of her leather jacket. There was something about the set of her mouth, as if she’d set it determinedly so it wouldn’t tremble.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” Alec said. “Also, you’re the worst.”

  That made her smile. Lily wiggled her fingers in farewell. “Don’t you forget it.”

  She slipped away like a shadow, and Alec opened the door and stepped inside his apartment at last. His coffee machine was on the counter, his cat was sleeping on the sofa.

  There was a door standing open to a room he’d never seen before, which happened sometimes at his place. The room inside had golden-brown floorboards and whitewashed walls. Magnus was standing in the room, with Rafe beside him. Magnus was wearing a red and gold silk robe, and Rafe’s face was tipped up to watch Magnus as he produced a low soothing stream of Spanish. It was a beautiful room.

  Alec realized Magnus knew he was there because Magnus started translating what he was saying into rapid English, switching between languages with fluid ease so everybody knew what was going on.

  “Let’s put away the cross for now, and talk about organized religion later,” said Magnus, snapping his fingers at the crucifix on the wall. “And let’s have a window, and let the light in. Do you like this one?”

  He gestured easily to the wall, and a circular window opened up onto their street, showing a tree catching the moon. Then he gestured again and the window was red and gold stained glass.

  “Or this one?” Magnus waved a third time and the window was arched and tall as a church window. “Or this one?”

  Rafe was nodding and nodding, his face wreathed in eager smiles.

  Magnus smiled down at him. “Want me to just keep doing magic?”

  Rafe nodded again, even more vehemently. Magnus laughed and set a hand on Rafe’s curly head: Alec was about to warn that Rafael was shy at first and would duck away, but Rafe didn’t. He let Magnus stroke his hair, the rings on Magnus’s hand catching the light through their new window. Magnus’s smile went from gleaming to glowing. He met Alec’s eyes over Rafe’s head.