The Lost Book of the White by Cassandra Clare

CHAPTER SEVENKe House

MAGNUS WANTED TO OPEN APortal to Ke House. Everyone else voted not to open a Portal, considering what was going on with the Portals, but Magnus was feeling lucky.

Magnus knew he had to sleep, and very, very soon. But he also felt surprisingly good. He opened the Portal with a flourish. Beetle demons immediately began to drop out of it; each had just enough time to register surprise that it was in broad daylight before exploding into ichor. After about a minute and fifty or so beetle demons, Magnus closed the Portal with a sigh.

“I just couldn’t stand their sad little feelers anymore,” he said.

His friends looked at him with concern. Tian raised an eyebrow and waved a phone at Magnus. “I’ve called some taxis.”

Soon Magnus was watching the city go by out the window as they drove past Jiao Tong University and into more residential areas. Magnus hadn’t been to Ke House in… more than eighty years. Shanghai had gone through not just a transformation but many transformations piled atop one another since then.

He thought of the first time he came to Paris after Haussmann’s renovations. He stood on the Île de la Cité in bewilderment, unable to get his bearings. He could see the river; he could see the spires of Notre Dame a few blocks away. He had stood in this geographical location dozens of times before, but he had no idea where he was.

So it was today. The new houses of modern Shanghai smeared by in the windows.

No,Magnus thought as they helped him out of the car. That isn’t the strange thing. This is the strange thing. Tall double doors, gleaming metallic red, set in simple gray concrete walls impossible to see over. These doors were the same as he remembered. It was so strange, to see something that hadn’t changed.

The wards allowed Tian through, and he waved to his guests to follow him. They did so a bit warily. Magnus had seen how surprised Jace and Isabelle had looked when Tian had explained that the ancestral home of the Ke family wasn’t the Institute. It seemed the Ke family was a large one, and a traditional one. Ke House was older than the Institute, and those family members who had retired from Institute work, or were simply part of the Shanghai Conclave, had always lived here.

The property itself was large, Magnus remembered, but the main house itself very modest. He was sure there had been renovations since the 1920s, but the core of the house seemed much the same: brick-red columns, dougong brackets, and straight-lined roof, simple and modest, but protected, of course, by the traditional ridge beasts on the corners of the roof, beautifully carved lions and horses commemorating the joining of the Ke family and some other household, centuries ago. The brackets were painted blue now, Magnus thought. A blue that seemed to darken even as he looked at it. He heard Alec’s voice and closed his eyes.

He really was very tired.

HE AWOKE TO FIND HIMSELFin a small, comfy bedroom; out the window the sun was beginning to think about getting low in the sky. He felt refreshed, as though he had slept for a day. He wanted to find Alec.

He pulled himself out of bed and looked at the wound in his chest where it was exposed above the fold of his dressing gown. (He noted that he had apparently been put into a dressing gown, he presumed by Alec. He hoped by Alec.) Now, with two cuts, it formed an X over his heart, and he thought with a wince of Clary’s dream. No chains yet, at least. The X was warm to the touch, like an inflamed cut, but he felt no pain if he pushed at it. The little flames of light that wafted out of the wound didn’t feel like anything. The fact was, the wound felt good. Behind it was a warm core of magic that was clearly his own, but he felt tendrils of it reaching out through the wound, reaching for… what? The thorn?

Sammael?

He found his clothes folded on a chair beside the bed and changed out of the dressing gown. Then he padded down the hall. At the end of the hall was a small sitting room, decorated mostly in weapons—Shadowhunters, thought Magnus with a sigh—and a man seated in one of the chairs. He was leaning forward, as though deep in thought or, possibly, napping, and Magnus couldn’t see his face. That’s funny, he thought, the Ke family still look like—

The man raised his head, and Magnus startled.

“Jem?”he said. He whispered it, like maybe it was supposed to be a secret.

Jem got up. He looked good, Magnus thought, for being 150 years old, for having been a Shadowhunter and a Silent Brother and then, after all those years, suddenly a mundane. Even in modern times, Jem still favored clothes a bit like what he’d worn as a much younger man—he was in a simple white shirt with pearl buttons, but over it was a brown riding coat cut in a vaguely Victorian shape. Under other circumstances, Magnus might have asked him the name of his tailor.

Without a word Jem stepped forward and embraced Magnus. They had been friends a long time. There were a lot of downsides to being a warlock, but the feeling of embracing a friend who you’d known for more than a century was not one of them.

“What are you doing here?” Magnus said. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you.”

“I have a perfect right to be here,” Jem said with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m a member of the Ke family, after all. Ke Jian Ming, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“So… a coincidence? You just happened to be visiting family? Is Tessa with you?”

Jem’s expression suddenly turned serious. “Tessa is not with me, and no, it’s not a coincidence that I’m here.”

He led Magnus outside, and they walked over to the pond. It seemed to Magnus that it was a bit different in shape than the last time he’d been here, but it had been beautiful then and it was beautiful now. Firs and willows leaned over the water, their branches so low they dipped into it. They shaded the gold, black, and white koi hurrying underneath, visible only as shifting shadows in the green water.

A red bridge, paint flaking away with age, arched over the pond, leading to a dirt-floored courtyard where a girl in gear, only eleven or twelve, ran through stick-fighting forms.

“I was born here, you know,” Jem said. “Before my parents ran the Institute.” He looked out at the sun’s reflection on the still water of the pond.

“Where’s Tessa?” said Magnus.

“The Spiral Labyrinth,” Jem said, and Magnus breathed a sigh of relief. “But not of her own choice. She was being pursued by a warlock. Of your acquaintance, I think. One with an unmoving face.”

“Shinyun Jung,” Magnus said. “I should say she’s of my acquaintance; I came here straight from fighting her and her monster squad.”

“So I heard from the others,” said Jem.

“Why would Shinyun be after Tessa?” Magnus said.

Jem looked at him in surprise. “Well—because she’s an eldest curse, of course. Like you.”

Magnus blinked. “You mean, because she’s the daughter of a Prince of Hell? Like me?”

“No. It’s more than that. Tessa went to the Labyrinth not just to hide but to research. Eldest curses are not just children of Princes of Hell. They’re the oldest living children of those princes. There can only be nine of them alive at any one time, and I know of only two. And I’m talking to one of them and married to the other.”

Magnus started. “I didn’t know you got married.” It had been a long, strange road for Jem and Tessa; he was glad if they were reaching a place they could finally rest together. “Congratulations.”

“Well, not really,” said Jem. “We got married by mundane laws—in private, you understand, in secret, no one there but us and the necessary officials.” He gazed at the water. “We want desperately to have a proper wedding, with all our friends and family, but—we lead a dangerous life. We have been searching a long time for something many bad people also want to find. More than just Shinyun has pursued us. I couldn’t ask my friends, or Tessa’s descendants, to come to a wedding ceremony where they might be in peril.”

“Sounds like an interesting party to me,” said Magnus, but the deep sadness in Jem’s eyes plucked at his heart. “Look—I can think of a way I could help you hold a wedding, safely, with everyone you want there. When we make it out of this whole situation, I’ll show you.”

“Thank you,” said Jem. He caught at Magnus’s hand. “Thank you. I’ll do whatever I can to help you with the Shinyun problem. When we learned from the Labyrinth that she was in Shanghai, I came here to see if the Institute had seen anything. They hadn’t, but then you showed up. I’ve been here only a few more days than you.”

“Well,” said Magnus, “what have you found out?”

Jem sighed. “That Portals aren’t working.”

Magnus said, very quietly, “Shinyun is working on behalf of Sammael. Sammael Sammael,” he added significantly.

Jem’s eyebrows went up. “Well, that’s not a name you hear every day. Since Earth isn’t currently in an apocalyptic demon war, I assume he’s not actually here.”

“I assume that too, but I don’t know how Shinyun has been communicating with him, or where he is. Or what form he’s in, for that matter.” Magnus thought. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Sammael has any interest in Tessa. Shinyun told me that she hasn’t even told Sammael about me being part of this.”

Jem considered this. “It doesn’t make me feel all that much better.” He sighed. “I guess it was inevitable. We both know Princes of Hell can’t really be killed. They just go away and then come back eventually. It’s been a thousand years; it’s surprising it took this long.”

Magnus laughed. “You know, the funny thing is, he just missed Lilith by a bit.”

Tian appeared from around the corner in the courtyard beyond, where the girl was practicing. He was in his distinctive burgundy gear, with the silver lines of his rope dart in loops around his body. He leaned down to talk with the girl.

“I should find Alec,” Magnus said. “Do you know where the others are?”

“The coach house, I should think,” said Jem. “They were freshening up—”

He stopped as an older woman with long gray hair in two braids appeared from the house and stared them down. She was holding a wooden spoon the size of a longsword and a bowl twice the size of Magnus’s head. On each of her upper arms was a gigantic Balance rune.

There were also runes on the spoon.

“Mother Yun,” said Jem mildly. “Tian’s grandmother.”

“Your friends are sitting at the table for dinner,” apparently-Mother-Yun snapped at Jem in Mandarin. “Which is more than I can say for you. Or her.” She waved the spoon at the training girl. “LIQIN!” she hollered at the top of her lungs. “Come and eat, girl! You too, xiao Tian.”

The girl literally stopped her leg in the air mid-kick and slowly lowered it. She turned and saw that Magnus and Jem had been watching her, and suddenly became self-conscious. “That’s another Ke cousin,” Jem said. “Liqin. Tian’s kind of an older brother to her, since he’s an only child.”

The girl, with the same serious-minded expression that Tian seemed to default to, nodded to Jem and hurried past to heed Mother Yun’s warning.

“Hi, Liqin,” Magnus said, waving.

The girl stopped and rolled her eyes. “It’s Laura, actually. I’m from Melbourne. Auntie Yun won’t call me anything but my Chinese name, even though she speaks English perfectly well.” These last two words were directed somewhat more pointedly in the direction of their target.

“Hi, Laura,” said Magnus, waving again.

She blushed and ducked her head, heading in for food.

“And you,” Yun said to Jem, still in Mandarin. “Jian. You come in at once too. With your friend.”

“Yun, mei mei,” Jem said, drawing himself up to his full height and bearing. Magnus smiled to hear Jem address Yun as little sister: technically, she was younger than Jem, though she looked decades older. “I am your great-great-uncle-cousin, or something like that, and I will not be spoken to in that manner. But yes, Magnus,” he added under his breath, “let’s go. You don’t want to see her get mad.”

IT HAD TAKEN ALL OFAlec’s willpower to not spend his whole time at Ke House watching Magnus sleep. Once they had found that Brother Zachariah—now just Jem Carstairs—was in residence, they had let him examine Magnus, and he proclaimed that, for the moment, what Magnus needed most was rest. So Alec had let him sleep.

He’d felt awkward, at first, in these strangers’ home, without Magnus to be breezy and friendly and make everyone comfortable. Luckily, Alec had a tendency to stick close to outgoing and confident people, and Jace and Isabelle had made all the introductions and explanations, while he, Clary, and Simon had hung back. At least until Jem arrived, at which point Clary and Simon had perked up and gone to chat with him and explain the situation.

Alec still didn’t think he knew Jem all that well, even though he’d met him a number of times now. As with so many of Magnus’s old friends, the literal centuries—well, one and a half centuries, in Jem’s case—seemed an unbreachable hurdle. But Jem himself was preternaturally kind, and he had come over to speak with Alec himself—to assure him that Magnus was all right, that he had burned through a lot of magic in a short time, that he would feel better after a good rest, and that in the meantime Alec should enjoy the grounds and come meet the family.

The only ones in residence today turned out to be Tian’s grandmother, who Jem called Mother Yun, and his cousin Liqin, who stared bug-eyed at Clary for a few seconds and then ran away. The guests had been given tea and shown around the property, which was as dense with Shadowhunter history as the Institute itself. It was unfortunate, he felt, that none of them could pay proper attention to the place. They were all still shaken up from the encounter with Shinyun and her demon army.

While Magnus slept and Yun prepared dinner, Tian took his guests into the dining room, where a long rosewood table dominated the space. He sat down with a sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“Please sit,” he said. “I know I’ve been dragging you all over this house without engaging in the discussion we really need to have, but I needed time to think.”

Alec and Jace exchanged a look of shared relief. Alec knew Jace had barely been holding himself back from demanding answers about supposedly extinct skeleton warriors. They all took seats, their attention fixed on Tian.

“I need to know,” Tian said. “Who was that warlock? The one commanding Baigujing’s daughters?”

“Shinyun Jung,” Alec said. “A warlock who only makes bad decisions. What would it mean for her to be commanding Baigujing’s daughters?”

“They are fiercely loyal to Baigujing herself. And this Jung Shinyun—a warlock who could command Baigujing—would be a powerful one indeed.” Tian looked at Alec. “I assume she is the warlock who stole the book you’re looking for.”

Alec nodded.

“I may have to explain something of the history of demons in Shanghai,” said Tian. “I’ll try to keep it short.”

“I recommend the use of dioramas,” said Jace. Clary kicked him under the table.

The Nephilim of China, Tian explained, and especially of Shanghai, had been tormented for years and years in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries by Yanluo, a Greater Demon known to mundanes across East Asia as the King of Hell. He had banded together with other powerful demons as well, including Baigujing, and together they waged a terrifying war against mundanes, Downworlders, and Shadowhunters alike.

When Yanluo struck at the Shanghai Institute in 1872 and murdered several Shadowhunters, he became the nemesis of the Ke family. They tracked him across China, finally slaughtering him in 1875. (Tian seemed rightfully proud of this fact.)

“He’s dead,” said Jace. “So he’s not our problem, I take it?”

“What about Baigujing?” asked Isabelle.

“That’s the thing,” said Tian. “Yanluo is not the actual King of Hell, of course. He isn’t even a Prince of Hell. Mundanes called him the King of Hell because his realm, Diyu, was believed to be the human underworld. It was a horrible place. No one seems to know how Yanluo came to rule over Diyu, but he used it to torture mundane souls and entertain his demon cohorts with scenes of bloody massacres and torment.” He sighed. “For a very long time, the only permanent passage between Diyu and our world—or any world—was a Portal right here in Shanghai. This was before humans could make their own Portals, of course, and Yanluo would pass back and forth between the worlds without anybody being able to do anything about it. The moment he died, though, the Portal was closed—forever—and his cohorts were trapped in Diyu. Baigujing and her daughters were among them.”

“Well, they’re out now,” said Simon grimly.

“Could the Portal that closed have opened again?” demanded Clary. “Should we go check on it?”

“No one knows where it is—or was,” said Tian. “Around the time of Yanluo’s death, Shanghai was in the middle of a huge expansion, with all the European countries establishing territory here and trade exploding. It’s not clear what happened to the Portal. Nobody’s stumbled across it since Yanluo’s death, in any event. Most of us believed it vanished when he died. He was the sort who wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to use it if he couldn’t.”

Liqin entered abruptly and sat herself down at the table with a kind of military discipline, and Tian interrupted his story to ask her how her training had gone. Alec noted with some surprise that when she responded, she did so in a definite Australian accent. And then Jem arrived, with Magnus.

The Shadowhunters sprang up from the table as one to greet them and check on Magnus, but Alec made sure he got there first. He grabbed Magnus around the waist and held him fast. “I didn’t even know you were awake,” he said in a low voice. “How are you feeling?”

“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 thought 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 BEDROOMdoor 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 hair 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.”

Magnus reached up and gently removed Alec’s hand from his shoulder, but continued to hold it. “I’m not doing this on my own. As near as I can tell, I’m doing it with a whole baseball team. You, Jace, Clary, Simon, Isabelle, Tian, Jem… it’s a wonder we didn’t bring Maia and Lily with us too.”

“Do you wish they all weren’t here?” Alec said. “Do you wish I wasn’t here? Do you wish I didn’t know? About this?”

“No,” said Magnus again. Was Alec angry? He exhaled slowly. “I told you, I didn’t know about the chains—”

“Aren’t you worried? Aren’t you upset?” said Alec, and Magnus realized: He wasn’t angry. He was terrified. “You don’t have to act cool with me. I’m the person you don’t ever have to act cool with.”

Magnus smiled and wrapped his arms around Alec, pulling him into a tight embrace. To his relief, Alec let him. “I know that. And you know me,” he murmured into Alec’s ear, the wisps of Alec’s hair tickling his nose with the warm smell of soap and sweat and sandalwood that felt like home. “I try to take it one moment at a time.”

He could feel the long exhale leave Alec’s body, the tension ease a bit. “Of course I’m worried,” he continued in Alec’s ear. “Of course I’m upset. I don’t really know what’s happening, and the only person who might explain it to me is—”

“Unhinged?” murmured Alec.

“I meant Ragnor, actually,” allowed Magnus. “Who is possessed by Sammael. But we’ll figure it out. Together. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you can help. Tonight I need… to unwind.” He planted a little kiss on Alec’s temple and was pleased to see his boyfriend allow himself a small smile.

Alec turned and put his hand on Magnus’s heart, just above the wound. “If you died,” he said, “a part of me would die too. So remember, Magnus. It’s not just your life. It’s my life too.”

Someone, long ago, had told Magnus that human beings could never love the way immortals loved; their souls didn’t have the strength for it. That person had never met Alec Lightwood, nor anyone like him, Magnus thought, and their lives must have been the poorer for it. The strength of Alec’s love humbled him and lifted him up like a wave; he let the wave carry him toward Alec, toward their bed together, toward their interlocked hands as they moved in unison, stifling their cries against each other’s lips.

HOURS LATER, MAGNUS WAS SOUNDasleep, but Alec remained awake, listening to the insects and the birds sing their night songs. The moon poured creamy light through the window. After a time, he got out of bed, pulled on sleep clothes, and went out.

He walked the perimeter of the house’s grounds, along the low brick wall that marked its edge, trailing his fingers. He felt restless and strange. He was worried about Magnus and wanted to act, not to sleep, but he couldn’t form a plan or even think through steps. He just didn’t have enough information.

Jace, unexpectedly, was sitting on the brick wall, watching the sky. He turned to look at Alec’s approach. “Can’t sleep either?”

“What are you mooning around about?” Alec said. “I’m the one whose boyfriend has a big magical X carved into his chest by a crazy person.”

“Everyone’s got something,” Jace said, and Alec thought that was probably true.

“Maryse asked me if I would take over running the Institute,” Jace added casually.

Alec did not say, I know, but instead asked, “Are you going to do it?”

Jace hemmed and hawed. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Alec said. “You’d be good at it. You’re a good leader.”

Jace shook his head, smiling. “I’m good at being the first guy into battle. I’m good at killing a lot of demons. Maybe I can lead that way.”

“You don’t want a desk job?” Alec said, amused. “You wouldn’t stop patrolling, you know. There aren’t enough of us for that.”

“I just don’t think I’m good at the stuff that’s part of running an Institute. Strategy? Diplomacy?”

“You’re great at that stuff,” Alec protested. “Who’s been putting this idea in your head that you’re only good at fighting? It better not be Clary.”

“No,” said Jace glumly. “Clary thinks I should do it.”

“I do too,” Alec said.

“None of us have to do it,” Jace said. “The Clave would send someone from another Institute, if it was needed. An adult.”

“Jace,” Alec said, “we’re adults. We’re the adults now.”

“By the Angel, that’s terrifying,” Jace said, with a bit of a smile. “They’ve let you have a child, even.”

“I should check in with Mom, actually,” said Alec. He took out his phone and waved it around. “And you should go to sleep.”

“You too,” said Jace, getting up. Before he could escape, Alec had grabbed him in a hug, and Jace, grateful as Alec had expected, hugged him back.

“It’s going to be fine,” Jace said. “We’re going to save the day again. It’s what we do.” So saying, he headed back in the direction of his room.

Alec watched him go, and then he turned his attention to his phone and called—he almost thought home, but no, the Institute wasn’t his home anymore. That still felt strange sometimes.

To his surprise, Kadir answered his mother’s phone. “Alec!” he said with surprising enthusiasm. “Just the person I wanted to talk to. We didn’t want to bother you, but—”

“What?” said Alec, on alert immediately. His nerves were not in good shape. “Is Max okay?”

“Yes, Max is fine,” Kadir said. “He is quite a crawler!”

“Yeah, he can crawl pretty fast,” Alec said, not sure where this was going. “Hopefully that means he’ll be really walking soon.”

“Well”—Kadir hesitated—“did you know… I mean… at home does he…”

“What?”

“Is that Alec?” Maryse said in the background. There was a clatter, and then she had clearly put him on speakerphone. “Alec, your son is climbing up the walls.”

“He can be pretty active, yeah,” Alec said.

“No,” Maryse said with great calm, “I mean he is climbing up our walls. And across the ceiling! And then hanging from the drapes.”

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. At home, of course, Magnus could prevent Max’s accidental magical adventures with gravity. “I don’t think he’ll fall,” he said doubtfully. “Usually when he does that, he doesn’t even notice it’s happened and we just wait for him to get back to the ground again.”

“Yes, but… Alec, the ceilings in the Institute are very high.”

“I have to walk around with a large cushion all the time just in case,” put in Kadir.

“There are some pikes in the weapons room, but nothing long enough to reach,” Maryse went on. “There isn’t a magic solution? Something in the spell components Magnus brought? Something to… to neutralize him?”

“Uh, no, Mom. There’s nothing to ‘neutralize’ him. I told you he was a handful.”

“Obviously we would only use the handle end of the pikes, if it came to that,” Kadir offered.

“Is he upset?” Alec said.

“Kadir? It’s always hard to tell—”

“No, Mom, Max. Is Max upset?”

“Max is thrilled,” Maryse said, in a tone that Alec strongly associated with his mother talking about Jace. “Max is having an excellent time.”

“Then you’ll just have to keep an eye on him and wait for him to come down,” said Alec.

There was a long pause. “Well… all right,” said Maryse. “If that’s all that can be done.”

Alec began to say, “You could call Catarina—”

“No, no, no,” Maryse said quickly. “We’ve got it under control here. You go back to your mission and don’t worry, all right?”

“Alec,” Kadir said, very intensely. “I also must speak to you about The Very Small Mouse Who Went a Very Long Way, by Courtney Gray Wiese.”

“What about it?” Alec said.

“You did not tell me,” Kadir said. “You did not warn me sufficiently.”

“We tried,” said Alec.

In bleak tones, Kadir recited, “ ‘The finest mouse will go neglected / Who is not often disinfected.’ ”

“It’s hard to really prepare someone for it,” Alec said. “You kind of have to experience it for yourself.”

“Indeed,” said Kadir. “I am glad for Where the Wild Things Are, at least. I have learned, after all these years, where the wild things are. They are in this Institute.”

Alec said his good-byes and hung up, then gazed up at the clear night sky. Maryse had raised four kids in an unpadded stone building full of weapons. Maryse had raised him, and he had never so much as broken a bone under her watch. Max would be fine.

Will Magnus, though?

He pushed the thought aside and headed back toward bed.

MAGNUS WAS IN A HUGE,dusty hall. There were lights hanging from its ceiling, providing a gloomy yellow illumination, but their pendants, and the ceiling itself, were so far above him and so shrouded in darkness that he couldn’t make them out.

As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was in a kind of courtroom, an old-fashioned one at that, like something from a hundred or two hundred years ago. It looked like it had been abandoned for at least that long. A thick layer of dust and cobwebs covered every surface, and while most of the carved wooden furniture was intact, there were chairs thrown here and there that had not been picked up.

He was dreaming, he thought. Certainly dreaming. But of what? Of where?

Behind the judges’ bench were three seats. The middle seat was much larger than the others, and a thick gray cloud hung over it, like a giant Ala demon was perching in it, although Magnus could see no eyes. To the cloud’s right sat Shinyun; to the cloud’s left sat Ragnor.

Magnus lifted his hands and found that the spiked balls that had been etched into his palms had become real, solid, iron balls, a few inches across, embedded deeply. Blood seeped from around them. He held up his hands experimentally and bumped his palms together, hearing the balls clink dryly in the empty room.

There was a grinding sound that after a moment Magnus recognized as Ragnor clearing his throat. “They’re supposed to be so you can’t put your hands together in prayer,” he said. His voice was quiet, but it rang in Magnus’s ears clearly. “It’s a little old-fashioned, but you know how these artifacts are. Lots of symbolism, much less practicality.”

“Where are we?” Magnus said. He addressed Ragnor and ignored Shinyun. He had the distinct impression that Shinyun was leering at him, though of course her face was as deadpan as always.

“Nowhere in particular,” Ragnor said, waving his hand lazily. “We’re just talking.”

Magnus strode forward, though he felt heavier than usual, as though his legs were chained to weights. “Talking about what? Are you ready to give me any answers? Will you tell me what’s going on with this… this thorn? The chains on my arms? What you’re up to? What you want with the Book of the White? Why you’ve thrown in your lot with S—”

At that instant Shinyun put a finger up to her lips and shushed him. The noise was deafening, like being drowned in a crashing wave, and Magnus put his hands to his ears, then pulled them away quickly as he felt the iron spikes from his palms poke them.

When the noise died down, Ragnor said reproachfully, “You must not say his name.”

“What?” said Magnus incredulously. “Sammael?”

The room shook very slightly, disturbing dust clouds into the air.

“Sammael!” Magnus yelled. “Sammael, Sammael, Sammael!”

The room rumbled now and shook like a derailing train. Magnus struggled to keep his footing, but Ragnor and Shinyun remained in their seats, looking impatient.

“Why?”Magnus shouted at Ragnor, angry now. “Why him? Why would the great Ragnor Fell ally himself with any demon, no matter how powerful? That’s not what you taught me. It’s against everything you’ve ever believed!”

“Times change,” Ragnor said, annoyingly calm.

“And what’s with this… this thorn? What’s that got to do with S—with your Prince of Hell?”

Ragnor laughed now, an unpleasant grating sound very different from the laugh Magnus remembered. “The Svefnthorn? That’s entirely Shinyun’s doing. It’s old magic, Magnus, very old and powerful warlock magic, and it had no master. Shinyun found it, and then it had a master. Our master. The thorn will only help you become who you are meant to be.”

He stood now, and Magnus gasped. Ragnor’s horns, always so tidy and elegant, had grown and wrapped themselves fully around his head; now they ended on either side of his face, jutting out around his chin like tusks. His eyes glinted like obsidian even in the yellow shadows of the room.

“Shinyun was not lying to you,” he went on. “The Svefnthorn is a great gift, one that was lost but, thanks to our master, is now found. It helps us to serve him better. It will help you to serve him better too, in the end.”

Magnus tore at his collar and opened his shirt to reveal the wound and its chains. “This is a gift?” he yelled. “How can this be a gift?”

Ragnor chuckled, and it was worse than the grating screech from before. He opened his mouth to speak, but he and Shinyun and the courtroom vanished, and Magnus bolted awake in his bedroom at the Ke house, a scream on his lips and Alec’s worried face shining in the full moonlight.