The Lost Book of the White

by Cassandra Clare

  “Hungry,” Magnus said. “Otherwise fine.” He half-consciously brushed at his shirt, over his wound.

  Alec kissed him, hard and fierce, as if to prove to himself that Magnus was okay. Magnus returned the kiss, and Alec could feel some tension leave his body as he did.

  After a few seconds, Isabelle delivered a loud wolf whistle, and Alec pulled away, smiling in embarrassment. Magnus gave him a sympathetic look and a peck on the cheek. “That was lovely,” he said.

  Alec hugged him a little tighter, and Magnus said again, “I’m all right.” But Magnus, Alec thought wryly, would always say he was all right.

  “You’re not,” said Alec quietly. “You said Shinyun stabbed you again.”

  Magnus sighed and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing that the wound was now a harsh X across his chest. There was a sharp intake of breath from the assembled Shadowhunters. Clary put her hand to her mouth; she looked surprisingly more alarmed than the others.

  “I have even worse news,” said Magnus. “But I believe Tian was telling a story, and I hate to interrupt.”

  Tian looked stunned. “No, please. This seems more urgent.”

  “If she gets me a third time,” Magnus said, “I become Sammael’s servant.”

  “Well,” said Alec, “then you are going straight into hiding right now. Or to the Spiral Labyrinth.”

  “You’re safe here,” said Jem. “This house is very well-warded.”

  “I can’t go into hiding,” Magnus went on doggedly, “because if I don’t get stabbed a third time, the thorn’s power will burn me from the inside out and I’ll die.”

  There was a terrible silence. All Alec could hear was his own breathing, intense and unsteady in his ears. He saw Jace look at him with his eyes full of concern, but his own fear was too deep for even his parabatai’s reassurance to reach it.

  “So what are we going to do?” said Simon. He sounded bleak.

  “Defeat Sammael,” said Jace, his voice hard.

  “Destroy the thorn,” suggested Isabelle.

  Alec looked at them carefully, but they didn’t seem to be joking.

  Magnus said, “I’m not sure how easy either of those things will be.”

  Clary, with a mulish look, said, “I didn’t think you brought us here to do easy stuff.”

  “We’ll take care of it,” Magnus said. He looked at Alec, who returned his gaze evenly. “We will,” he said again.

  Alec’s further thoughts on the matter would have to wait, though, as through the door to the kitchen came Yun, carrying an enormous platter of food. Alec noted that she had put her giant spoon in a scabbard on her back, which seemed appropriate.

  “None of you are sitting down!” she shouted, and they all hurried to return to the table. “Welcome!” she added to Magnus in the same shouting tone.

  Magnus spoke to her in Mandarin, and she seemed to soften a bit. He had that effect on people. She responded in Mandarin at some length and then continued in English. “Jian says you are excellent people, and he is mostly a good judge of character, even if he is not a Shadowhunter anymore.” She winked at Jem and began setting plates out.

  “Should we keep talking about Yanluo?” Simon said to Tian. Magnus violently shook his head no at Simon. “Or… not?” Simon added.

  “It’s all right, Magnus.” Jem smiled faintly. “I have my own personal connection to Yanluo, that’s all.”

  Tian began serving himself fried bean curd and vegetables from one of the plates. He gestured for the rest of them to join him. “Eat, before my grandmother starts to take offense,” he said. “I’m happy to help you with any of the dishes if you—”

  But the Shadowhunters needed no further invitation and dug into the spread, which Alec noted was different from the Chinese food he was used to in New York, but had some definite similarities. The most familiar thing at the table were soup dumplings, which Tian’s reaction made clear were a sign Yun had pulled out all the stops for her guests. He had begun to explain how to eat them but quickly stopped once he realized that everyone at the table had grabbed spoons and were gently biting open the top of the dumpling to let the steam escape so they could drink the soup inside.

  Simon grinned at Tian’s surprise. “Xiaolongbao, right?” he said. “It’s, like, the only Chinese I know. Oh! Also char siu bao. Most of my knowledge is bao-related.”

  “Char siu is Cantonese,” snapped Yun over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.

  “I didn’t intend any offense,” Simon said, looking mortified.

  Jem rolled his eyes. “She isn’t taking offense. That’s just how she conveys useful information.”

  “She trained me,” said Tian, “and a generation of Shadowhunters before me.”

  “She’s terrifying,” said Magnus with sincere admiration.

  “You should have seen her in her prime,” said Jem. “That was a different Shanghai, though. She has quite the pedigree—she’s Ke Yiwen’s youngest granddaughter.”

  Magnus looked impressed. Isabelle interrupted herself from cutting half of the gigantic lion’s head meatball on Simon’s plate for herself. “Who’s that?”

  “She’s the one who killed Yanluo,” Tian said through a mouthful of food. “Though Jem knows more about it than I do.”

  Jem’s expression was somber and a little distant. Alec knew it well. It was the look Magnus got when he thought of something that had happened a long time ago whose memory still pained him. “A few years before Yanluo was killed, he invaded the Shanghai Institute, captured my parents and me, and tortured me in front of them. To pay them back.”

  His voice was steady, but then, Jem had lived two lifetimes since then. Alec wasn’t surprised to see Magnus reach out and put a reassuring hand on Jem’s arm.

  “Pay them back for what?” said Clary, her green eyes wide and full of concern.

  Jem’s mother, Magnus explained, had destroyed a nest of Yanluo’s brood, and so Yanluo had sought revenge against her child. He told them about the demon drug yin fen, how Yanluo had injected Jem with it for days on end, so his body would be dependent on the drug and he would have to take it forever or die—only his becoming a Silent Brother had ended the addiction, and only heavenly fire, pouring through Jem as he held on to Jace while Jace burned with it, had cured it permanently.

  “I remember that part,” Clary said grimly.

  “I remember it a little,” Jace said. “That was kind of a weird time for me.”

  “How strange. You’re never weird,” said Isabelle innocently.

  “We still see yin fen around occasionally,” Tian said, “though nothing like it used to be in Uncle Jem’s time. Young werewolves bring it in from Macao or Hong Kong. The Downworlder community is pretty good at shutting it down, though; they know the dangers.”

  “In Singapore,” Magnus put in, scratching at his wound without seeming to notice, “the Shadowhunters will just kill you on the spot if they catch you with it.”

  “Isn’t that against the Accords?” Simon said incredulously. Magnus shrugged.

  “At least I survived,” said Jem, picking the story back up, “unlike my parents. My mother’s sister, Yiwen, dedicated herself to revenge, and a few years later—I had gone to live at the London Institute, of course—she and my uncle Elias Carstairs tracked Yanluo down and killed him.” He nodded at the kitchen door, where Yun had disappeared. “Mother Yun is Yiwen’s youngest granddaughter, the only one still alive.” He smiled. “The second-oldest living Ke.”

  Alec took another serving of red-cooked chicken and felt out of place. It was a feeling he still had, sometimes, when Magnus’s life before him, long before his birth, in fact, loomed into view. Magnus and Jem had so much shared history, their relationship was so long and complex—for a moment he felt a tinge of jealousy, and then stopped himself; obviously his relationship with Magnus was of a totally different kind than Jem’s, and it was silly of him to envy them their shared history.…

  And then his mind flipped, and instead he th
ought about Jem, so young, terrified, screaming; about Jem’s parents, watching in helpless horror as their child was tortured in front of them for days. And he realized that the greater horror for him, now, was the parents’ horror: he could imagine withstanding his own torture, his own pain, but the idea of Max suffering, of his cries, of Alec’s helplessness… he shuddered and caught Magnus’s eye. Magnus was gazing at him with what Alec thought of as his cat’s gaze—heavily lidded, serious, enigmatic. He gave Magnus a smile, and Magnus gave him one back, although it was more wan than usual.

  After dinner, Magnus disappeared abruptly, but Alec was stuck with his friends for a few minutes more. Liqin very shyly approached Clary to ask her advice on something; the conversation turned to training and weapons and runes, and Alec snuck away into the rapidly fading twilight of the house’s back patio, where he found Tian, Jem, Yun, and Magnus standing in a small circle, gazing up at the sky. Magnus’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest protectively, and Alec couldn’t tell why—the conversation was entirely in quiet, rapid Mandarin.

  Magnus caught sight of him and beckoned him over. Alec slid in next to him and put his arm around Magnus’s shoulder; he was relieved to feel Magnus lean his weight against him, though he kept his arms crossed.

  “Yun was just telling us that the Shanghai Institute fire-messaged her this evening,” said Jem. “They’re concerned, because a lot of the demons they’ve been seeing in the city are from Yanluo’s time and are associated with Diyu. But Yanluo has been dead, and Diyu shut down, for a long time.”

  “Those children of Baigujing we fought today,” Tian said. “They are more like legends to my generation; nobody’s battled them in years.”

  “To my generation, even,” Yun agreed in a quiet but still-intense voice. “The Xiangliu, too, were rare for my whole life, but the Institute says that now they seem to be in every dark alley.”

  “Do you think Yanluo could have returned?” Alec said, not looking at Jem.

  But Jem himself spoke up. “I don’t. Yanluo wasn’t a Prince of Hell; he could be killed and he was killed. But someone else could be accessing Diyu and letting its demons back into our world.”

  “A million yuan says it’s Shinyun,” Magnus said grimly. “And Ragnor.”

  “But why?” said Tian.

  “Several reasons,” Alec agreed. He had come to much the same conclusion himself, earlier. “We know they’ve declared their fealty to Sammael”—Yun looked sharply at Alec, her eyes suddenly wide—“but we don’t know where Sammael is now, or what power he has, or even whether Shinyun and Ragnor have direct access to him,” he continued. “Maybe it’s a distraction from their own activities. Maybe Sammael has some interest in Diyu.”

  Magnus let out a long exhale. “Ragnor found Sammael a realm, apparently.”

  “A million yuan—” began Alec.

  “No bet,” said Tian. “If Sammael has taken Diyu, then he is one step away from walking in our world again.”

  “He’s one realm away,” Jem said. “There is warding that keeps Sammael away from Earth, in place since the Taxiarch defeated him. But it would only be a matter of time.”

  “Maybe less time than we’d like,” said Magnus. “They have the Book of the White, and we don’t know what they want it for. We don’t know where this old Portal was, or if Sammael might be trying to reopen it. Maybe he already has reopened it, and that’s how these demons are getting here.”

  “We don’t know anything,” said Alec in frustration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friends, with Liqin, marching in the dusk out to the training ground. He didn’t want to leave Magnus’s side, but he itched to join them, to lose himself in the regularity of sparring and training. He knew the others were trying to give Magnus and him some space, and to let Magnus reconnect with Jem and Yun. Alec couldn’t help worrying that Magnus was more vulnerable than they guessed—he always projected an image of unassailable confidence, but Alec understood that as close as Magnus might be to Clary, to Jace, to Simon, there was a private Magnus that only he and a few others ever saw. Catarina. Jem and Tessa. Ragnor. “We have to try to find Ragnor,” Alec said. “He’ll talk to you, Magnus, I know he will—even if he’s trying to convert you to his side, he’ll still talk to you.”

  “Ragnor is very good at not being found, if he doesn’t want to be,” said Magnus. “I’d have to look into some unusual magic to try to find him, given how easily he sidestepped the Tracking rune.”

  “Then I think our next step is research,” Tian said. “Tomorrow we go to the Sunlit Market. I have contacts there. We can start with Peng Fang—”

  Magnus let out a loud groan.

  “He’s not so bad,” Alec said.

  “I guess I’d take him over Sammael,” Magnus allowed.

  “There are a few others,” Tian said, “and the Celestial Palace, for research materials.”

  “Not the Institute library?” Alec said in surprise.

  Tian shrugged. “The Institute library has been carefully curated and contains useful books known to be true. The Celestial Palace contains dark corners with books full of rumors and innuendos. I suspect we’ll have a better time there.”

  “I do love rumors and innuendos,” said Magnus.

  “You should go to see Mo Ye and Gan Jiang,” put in Yun. Tian furrowed his brow.

  “What?” said Alec.

  “Faerie weaponsmiths,” Tian said. “They work by… appointment only. Grandmother, I don’t know if weapons are what is—”

  “If the horde of Diyu is returning,” said Yun severely, “then you will need more than seraph blades. Mo Ye and Gan Jiang knew the fight against Yanluo and his brood for hundreds of years before any of us were born. Even you,” she added with a nod to Magnus.

  “They may know about the Svefnthorn, also, if they’re weaponsmiths. So here’s the list of things we need to look into, if I have this correct,” said Alec, ticking them off on his fingers. “Shinyun, Ragnor, Diyu, Yanluo, Sammael, the Portal to Diyu, the Svefnthorn, the Book of the White, some other magic book maybe.”

  “Well,” said Magnus pleasantly, “that sounds like a very busy day, and I will need a good night’s rest for it. Alec and I must call home now to check on how our son is doing, so I take my leave of you for the night. Alec?”

  They thanked Yun for her hospitality again, and Magnus, still not uncrossing his arms, led the way across the courtyard to his bedroom. Alec followed, an uncertain foreboding in his chest.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS THE BEDROOM door was closed, Magnus turned and pushed Alec against it, hard. He kissed him fiercely, drowning himself in the taste of Alec, the feel of Alec’s stubble against his mouth (Alec thought it was messy, but Magnus was kind of a fan), the strength of Alec’s arms as they reached up to hold the back of Magnus’s head and help deepen the kiss.

  When he pulled away, Alec’s bright blue eyes were surprised and glinting, his mouth an adorable curl. “That was unexpected.”

  “I missed you,” said Magnus, out of breath, and Alec, bless him, didn’t ask him what that meant, didn’t say that they had been together this whole time, but only kissed him back. Without breaking the kiss, Magnus reached for the base of Alec’s throat and started unzipping his gear jacket. Alec, laughing, reached for the buttons of Magnus’s shirt and began undoing them. Magnus kissed Alec’s throat, and Alec let out a small pleased moan, but continued to carefully and fastidiously undo the buttons, his hands trembling slightly. That was Alec all over. Magnus thought with amusement of the first time Alec had torn his shirt open, early in their relationship. He always remembered Alec’s adorable look of surprise, as if he hadn’t been able to believe he’d ripped someone’s shirt off.

  Alec began to kiss his way down Magnus’s neck, gentle but urgent. Magnus wondered, distantly, what he would do when he reached the wound the thorn had made, which continued to roil with scarlet magic. He pushed the thought down and bent his head to ruffle his hands through Alec’s beautiful black ha
ir and plant a kiss on the sensitive spot behind his ear. Alec murmured wordlessly and pulled back to take his jacket fully off and drop it to the floor. He grinned at Magnus and helped him shrug off his shirt as well.

  Alec stopped and stared. But not, Magnus realized, at the wound. Instead he looked back and forth with sudden alarm at Magnus’s arms. The warm, tugging insistence that had been spreading through Magnus’s body as he kissed Alec was replaced abruptly by a cold feeling, like an ice cube slowly sliding down his throat and into his stomach.

  “What?” he said. And extended his arms to look, and saw.

  In the middle of each of his palms was the outline of a star, like the spiked end of—well, a flail. Extending from each star, interlocking loops ran down the insides of both his arms, angry and red and blistered.

  Alec reached out, unsettled and breathing hard, and with great gentleness ran his fingers over the loops. They were raised from the rest of the skin, rigid and swollen. They extended all the way past Magnus’s biceps and down the smooth planes of his chest to the wound itself.

  “Chains,” Alec said to himself, then looked up at Magnus’s face, his expression intense. “They look like chains.” He hesitated, then added, “Did you know?”

  “No,” said Magnus. “They don’t… feel like anything. I mean, nothing more than how the wound feels—”

  “How does the wound feel?” Alec said. He was gazing into Magnus’s eyes as though he would find answers there, but Magnus had no answers to give him.

  “Warm. Strange. Not… not unpleasant,” he added.

  “We should get Jem,” Alec said.

  “No!” said Magnus. “He doesn’t know anything about this.”

  “The Spiral Labyrinth, then,” Alec said. “Someone.”

  “No,” said Magnus again. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the Market and the Palace and we’ll get some answers there.”

  “And if we don’t?” Alec was clutching Magnus’s shoulder, his grip stiff. Magnus hesitated, and Alec closed his eyes, distressed, brow furrowed. “Why won’t you accept help?” he said quietly. “You don’t have to deal with this on your own.”