The Lost Book of the White

by Cassandra Clare

  “It’s a battlefield,” Jace said, looking around with a practiced eye; Alec thought he was probably right. Here and there abandoned weapons lay—swords, spears, and broken bows—and at the back of the large open courtroom was another table like the one Elyaas had sat behind, but this one was cleaved neatly in two. Five open doors led in various directions out of the room, in addition to the one they’d come from.

  The only fully intact object in the room was an oil painting of a young woman in white, hanging on a wall near the broken desk. It had been painted in watercolor, with delicate brushstrokes. The woman was beautiful, Alec thought, and her brightness seemed out of place in these darkened ruins. The painting was marred only by a tear in the canvas across the woman’s cheek, a scar that would never fade.

  Magnus came to stand next to Alec and look at the painting, and as he did, the woman’s face turned within the painting to look at them. Her eyes were empty and white.

  “Ack! Evil painting!” Clary jumped back.

  The woman’s head rolled eerily on her shoulders within the painting, and when she spoke, it was with a voice like the crackling of dry kindling.

  “Welcome, lost souls,” she said. Alec thought perhaps she would say something about how lonely she had been, but she said only, “Here is where your path will be chosen, and you will pass through the ghost gate to your suffering.”

  “Great news,” muttered Jace.

  “Take heart,” the woman told him, with a smile that revealed long, needlelike teeth. “When your anguish equals the pain you caused in life, you will be released back into the cycle of living and death. I advise you to face your tribulations with courage. You cannot avoid them, so you may as well go to them with your face raised up.”

  None of them said anything, and she went on, “All I will require is the standard toll for passage.”

  “The standard toll?” said Alec.

  “Yes,” said the woman. “Yuanbao are traditional, but these days we also accept the new paper money.”

  Magnus groaned. “I assume,” said Alec, “you don’t have any cash on you.”

  “I have the change from when I bought some faerie tea cakes earlier,” Clary said, fishing around in her jeans pocket. “Oh, never mind, it’s turned into leaves.”

  “We don’t have any money,” Magnus told the painting, “but you see—”

  “If you lack payment, you can traverse the Ice Caverns to the Bank of Sorrows,” the woman began.

  “We’re not going to have any money in the bank of Hell,” Magnus explained. “We’re not dead, you see.”

  The woman looked taken aback. “If no one has sent offerings of money to you, you may be able to claim remaining funds that were sent to your ancestors—”

  Magnus interrupted. “We’re not dead! And also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is in ruins. Diyu has ceased normal operations. Can’t you see this whole court has fallen down?” The woman didn’t speak for a moment, and he went on, “When was the last time someone came through here?”

  “Magnus—” Jace said. He was staring at one of the side doors, looking through it. “Someone’s coming.”

  The woman spoke, slower than Alec would have liked. “It has been a long time,” she said, “and the beadles have done a wretched job of keeping it clean.”

  “The beadles are gone,” Magnus said. “Their master with them. Yanluo, your Lord, was defeated and driven from this place more than a hundred years ago.”

  “I don’t get out much,” the woman admitted. “Maybe you are right, but maybe you are a trickster who is trying to sneak through the ghost gate without paying.”

  “He is right,” Alec said. “We just came from the First Court. It’s in ruins as well.”

  “Guys…,” Jace said, more urgently. He caught up an abandoned dagger and handed it to Clary. Lifting his own spear, he held it in front of him. They all turned toward the source of the noise. Even Alec could hear it clearly now: footsteps, faint but getting louder, running toward them.

  The woman in the painting hesitated. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I must demand payment. Even if there are temporary problems in the machinery of Diyu, they will no doubt be fixed soon. Souls cannot simply pile up forever with no place to go.”

  “I told you, we don’t have any money,” Alec began angrily, and then stopped, because through a doorway came the source of the footsteps.

  It was Tian. He looked as if he’d been through a wrestling match with a bag of razor blades. His clothes were torn and bloody, his hair tangled, his skin covered in cuts and scratches. Over his shoulder was a torn, stained white cloth that had been gathered into a makeshift bundle.

  The woman in the painting turned to look at Tian. “Do you have the money to pay the toll?”

  “Of course he doesn’t—” Magnus began.

  “I do,” Tian said.

  “Tian!” Alec said. “Where have you been? How did you get here?”

  “We lost you after we left the smiths,” said Clary. “And then the demons attacked.”

  “Friends, I have been through an ordeal,” Tian said wearily. Jace hadn’t put his spear away and was watching him suspiciously.

  Magnus, too, looked suspicious. “How did you disappear without any of us noticing you?”

  “I was seized by demons,” said Tian. “The vanguard of the warlocks’ army. I stepped outside the smithy to make sure all was safe, and great bat-winged demons swooped down and carried me off. They pushed me through a Portal almost immediately and I ended up here.”

  “Why didn’t they wait for the rest of us?” Magnus said.

  “I don’t think they knew the rest of you were there,” said Tian. “They must have seen me and just thought I was a random Shadowhunter in their way.” He looked around at them, breathing hard. “I’m very glad to see you all again, even if you are trapped here with me. What of the Portal?”

  “It’s closed,” said Alec. “For now. But Simon disappeared too, and we need to find him before we can leave.”

  “And, ideally, stop Sammael from doing whatever he’s doing,” put in Clary.

  “And a whole list of other things, actually,” said Magnus.

  Tian breathed a sigh of relief. “I think I can help.” He dumped his bundle on the ground, which made a metallic clank. The fabric fell away to reveal a pile of gold and silver ingots, each about the size of a fist. They were in a variety of shapes—some square, some round, some in the shape of stylized flowers or boats.

  “You’ve been to the Bank of Sorrows, I see,” said Magnus, arching an eyebrow.

  “I have,” said Tian. “There were quite a lot of offerings to the members of the Ke family over the years that have gone unclaimed. The imps who brought them to me seemed happy to have some business.” He gestured to the pile below him and addressed the woman in the painting, whose sharp teeth were bared in pleasure. “Honored Hua Zhong Xian,” he said, “will these serve as payment for the six of us to pass?”

  The woman examined the pile for a moment and then said, “They will.”

  “Great,” said Alec with a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Tian.”

  “And now the Jiangshi will come to take you to your individual torments,” the woman went on.

  Through all six doors began to pour a crowd of humanoid creatures, green-skinned with long white hair, their arms extended before them. Their mouths opened to reveal rows of sharp yellow teeth, and they began to emit a low, plaintive wail.

  “So, zombies,” Clary said. “Now we have to deal with zombies.”

  “Jiangshi demons,” corrected Tian. “But yes, they are very like zombies.”

  “Oh, come on!” shouted Magnus in exasperation, startling Alec. His eyes flashed in fury, and Alec, who had begun reaching back to draw Black Impermanence, stopped and stared as beams of mottled pinkish-red light, the color of watery blood, fired from each of Magnus’s fingers. The beams pierced the Jiangshi, bursting them apart into ichor and ash. Magnus turned, an angry
twist to his mouth, and fired beam after beam at the encroaching creatures. Within seconds, they were all destroyed, leaving only a burned smell in the air and the sound of Magnus’s hard breathing.

  “Well, damn,” said Isabelle after a moment.

  Magnus turned and caught Alec’s eye. For a moment, there was no recognition in his expression. His upper lip was curled, revealing teeth that seemed strange, longer and sharper than usual, and then he seemed to come back to himself. When he saw Alec’s expression, he hesitated. “I… I’m sorry. I got… impatient.”

  Jace said, “All right. Now that we’ve—” He was interrupted by a new round of the low, keening cries of Jiangshi. “Oh no.”

  More Jiangshi appeared in the doorways, moving inexorably and mindlessly toward them. Alec was about to speak, but Magnus’s fingers lit up with that cruel red light again.

  “Wait!” the woman in the painting cried out. Alec thought perhaps Magnus wouldn’t hesitate, but he did, breathing hard but holding himself back as she went on: “They will keep coming,” she said, “forever, until they are given a soul to take. At least one.”

  “Call them off!” shouted Alec.

  The woman shook her head. “I cannot. I am a servant, no less than they are. We must serve our functions.”

  “I’ll let them take me,” said Tian.

  “No,” said Jace sharply. “You’ve studied Diyu, you know more about it than we do. We need you to have any chance of getting through this place. I’ll go.”

  “You will not,” said Clary.

  “I’ll go,” said Isabelle loudly, in a commanding tone. Her voice rang through the room. Even the Jiangshi stopped moving for a moment.

  “Isabelle, you can’t —” Alec started.

  “I’m going,” Isabelle said. “I’m going, and I’m going to find Simon. I swear I will.”

  She turned and held her arms out to the Jiangshi. A sort of sigh swept through them, like an exhale of relief. They ceased pouring through the doorway.

  “She has chosen,” said the Hua Zhong Xian.

  Jace whirled to face Alec. “They’ll kill her—”

  “No,” said Magnus in a tense, low voice. “This is already a place of the dead. They assume she’s dead. Whatever they do, it won’t be killing her.”

  Tears ran down Clary’s face. She didn’t even try to wipe them away. “Isabelle, no.”

  “Let her go,” said the painted woman. “Her choice is irrevocable. Should you try to take her back now, worse will come than the Jiangshi.”

  “You stay out of this,” Alec snapped at her. He started toward Isabelle, but it was no use—in the blink of an eye, three of the demons had seized his sister. She put up no resistance. Her eyes were fixed on Alec as the Jiangshi marched her toward one of the doors they had come through. Don’t follow me, her gaze said. I love you, but don’t follow me.

  “Isabelle,” Alec said desperately, “don’t do this. Please. We’ll find Simon—”

  Magnus caught hold of Alec’s shoulder. Isabelle was almost at the door. Jace was gripping the spear in his hand so tightly his fingers had gone white. Clary appeared to be in shock.

  “Remember, Lightwood girl,” said the Hua Zhong Xian. “Go to your torment with your head held high.”

  Isabelle turned and regarded her. “I swear upon the power of the Angel,” she said in a clear voice, “that I will return. I will return, and we will tear down this place. We will scatter the undead to the winds. And I will, personally, tear you into ribbons.”

  Then she was gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE Ox-Head and Horse-Face

  A LONG, TERRIBLE TIME PASSED after Isabelle disappeared through the doorway. Magnus was vaguely aware that the Hua Zhong Xian had faded and vanished from the painting and left them in silence. Tian, looking lost and uncomfortable, stood with his hands folded. Clary was crying quietly against Jace’s chest. He stroked her hair, his worried gaze seeking and finding Alec, who was pacing back and forth across the room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  Magnus wasn’t sure if Alec wanted to be comforted or not, but he finally couldn’t stand it: going to Alec, he pulled his boyfriend into his arms. For a split second, Alec hung on to Magnus tightly, his hands fisting in Magnus’s coat, his forehead pressed to Magnus’s shoulder.

  Magnus murmured words he hadn’t realized he even remembered: soft words in Malay, of comfort and reassurance.

  Alec let himself shake in Magnus’s arms for a only moment, though. He drew away, chin held high, and said, “All right. Now we have two people to rescue.”

  “Three,” said Jace, “counting Ragnor.”

  “I hope you would have rescued me,” Tian said mildly.

  “We didn’t know you were here,” said Clary, “and anyway, you’ve rescued yourself.” She smiled at him in a wobbly sort of way, stepping away from Jace. Her face showed the streaks of tears, but like Alec, she had mastered her emotions.

  Shadowhunters were good at that.

  “We need a plan,” Jace said. “We can’t just wander around Diyu and hope we find them.”

  Magnus cleared his throat. “I hate to bring this up, but we also can’t just leave Diyu in the hands of Sammael.”

  “And Shinyun,” growled Alec.

  “And Shinyun,” agreed Magnus.

  “It just bothers me that we don’t know what Sammael wants,” said Clary in frustration.

  “To come to Earth and wreak havoc there,” offered Alec.

  “Yes, but to what end? Why open a Portal to Earth? What’s so great about Earth? If he only wanted to rule over Diyu, I think we would just let him.”

  “Well, the food’s better on Earth,” Jace said.

  Tian was shaking his head. “Sammael does not need a reason. The chaos and destruction he wreaks is for its own sake; who knows why his eye turns in one direction or another?”

  “Sammael was slain by the Archangel Michael to prevent him from unleashing Hell on Earth,” said Magnus slowly. “He’ll want to do what he was prevented from doing so long ago, because it’s part of the war.”

  “The war between angels and demons,” said Jace in a rare serious tone. “In which we are soldiers.”

  “Right,” said Magnus. “One thing to remember about Princes of Hell, and archangels, too: they’re always playing nine-dimensional chess with worlds as their toys. Just assume the worst.”

  “True enough,” said Tian. “The attack in the Market was a distraction, designed to keep the Shanghai Shadow World focused in one place so Sammael could act elsewhere. But we don’t know where.”

  “We don’t know where in Shanghai,” said Alec. “But maybe we could figure out where in Diyu. He would pick some central location for his work, right? Not just some random torture chamber. And Shinyun and Ragnor would likely be with him.”

  “You think we should confront them?” Jace asked. His eyes glittered. Only Jace would be looking forward to confronting two powerful warlocks and a Prince of Hell, thought Magnus.

  “I think we’ll have better luck figuring out what’s going on closer to where they’re all acting—Sammael, Shinyun, and Ragnor—than we will out here in a bunch of abandoned courts,” said Alec.

  “The geography of Diyu is complicated,” Tian said after a moment’s thought. “Though we are in an underworld, these courts we’re passing through actually reside far above the center of Diyu. There, a kind of shadow of the city of Shanghai can be found.”

  “Like, it’s upside down?” said Clary.

  “In part,” said Tian. “The usual rules of physical worlds don’t apply here. What is a mountain in Shanghai might be a deep trench in Diyu, but other places may be reversed in other ways, in color or orientation or even purpose. I was thinking…”

  “That when I Tracked Ragnor, it led us to a spot in Shanghai where Ragnor wasn’t,” said Alec. “But maybe he’s in the mirror spot in Diyu? And maybe we can find that?”

  “That’s very clever,” said Magnus. “My boyfriend is very clever,” he add
ed, to no one in particular.

  “Except we don’t really have a map that will show such correspondences,” said Tian. “We probably are best off heading for the heart of Diyu.” He grimaced. “As unpleasant as that will be.”

  “What does heading for the heart of Diyu involve?” said Jace.

  “The Final Court, but that won’t be a pleasant trip,” Tian said. “It’s at the center of Diyu’s labyrinth—the former throne of Yanluo. It’s at the very deepest point of Diyu, the lowest part of Hell.”

  “Of course it is,” said Clary, sighing.

  “Well, perhaps not the deepest. Below the Final Court is Avici.” Tian shuddered. “It is the one place in Diyu that terrifies me. Only the worst of sinners are brought there. Those who have committed one of the Great Offenses. Killing an angel, or a Buddha, or one’s own parent. They are judged and sent to Avici.”

  It was probably Magnus’s imagination, but it seemed like Tian was looking straight at him. Alec was definitely looking straight at him, worry on his face. He knew well that Magnus had struck down his own stepfather—in self-defense, certainly, as he had been trying to kill Magnus, but Magnus didn’t know if Diyu cared about technicalities.

  “How do we get there?” Magnus said. “The Final Court, I mean, not Avici.”

  “Diyu is a maze of tens of thousands of hells,” said Tian. “If we try to find our way there through all those abandoned chambers, it could take the rest of our lives. But…” He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

  “What?” said Alec.

  “North of Shanghai,” said Tian, “south of Beijing, in Shandong Province, is Tai Shan—Mount Tai,” he clarified. “Thousands of years ago, it was a place of the dead. Now it’s a tourist attraction, but here in Diyu is its darkened mirror, a deep pit receding into shadow. I saw it on my return from the Bank of Sorrows. A road led down to it. I don’t know how far it would be, but perhaps deep enough to reach the shadow of Shanghai—”

  “Well, it sounds better than wandering through a maze of torture chambers,” said Clary.

  “Exactly,” said Tian with a smile.

  They all looked at Magnus, who threw up his hands.