The Lost Book of the White by Cassandra Clare

CHAPTER FOURHeavenly Places

IT WAS A WONDER THEYdidn’t hurt anyone. The Shadowhunters emerged through the pearlescent frame of the Portal into thin air, twelve feet off the ground, and fell to the pavement amid an enormous bustling crowd of people.

They all landed safely, or at least cushioned themselves well enough to suffer only a few bruises. Alec carefully got to his feet, glad to be glamoured into invisibility. Wherever in the city they were, it was crowded.

It was full evening in Shanghai, a pleasantly warm one, and as he straightened up, Alec realized they stood on a massive pedestrian thoroughfare that extended in both directions beyond the distance he could see. The crowds were thick—Manhattan thick—and both sides of the street were lined with buildings shining with huge, brightly lit signs. Every wall was flooded with neon color and vivid advertisements. Large vertical signs in Chinese characters hung from each building into the streets, painting the walls in an electric rainbow of blue, red, and green. In the distance, a needle-shaped structure shot up into the night sky, glowing in waves of dazzling purple. Around it was the rest of the Shanghai skyline, some of it half-finished and surrounded by cranes, other parts lit up to stand as totems above the teeming city below.

There were English signs among the Chinese. “It looks like Times Square!” Isabelle said brightly. “Shanghai Times Square.”

“It’s much cooler than Times Square,” Simon said, gazing around at the spectacle before him. “More neon and lasers and banks of colored lights, fewer giant video screens.”

“There are plenty of giant video screens,” said Clary. “And it’s not Times Square. Well, I guess it kind of is, but it’s more like Fifth Avenue. We’re on East Nanjing Road—it’s a big shopping area with no cars.”

“So,” said Simon, “you thought, better hit up the sales before we find the evil warlocks?”

“They’re not necessarily evil,” Alec said. “The, uh, misguided warlocks.”

“The misguided warlocks who make terrible decisions,” amended Isabelle.

“No,” said Clary. “I mean—I was reading about this place on my phone this morning. I was just looking up the famous places to go in Shanghai. I wasn’t trying to end up here. I was trying to go to the Institute, and this is nowhere near it.”

“Also,” said Alec with a jolt, “where is Magnus?”

They looked around. Alec was keeping a clamp on his feelings, the way you might put pressure on a bleeding wound. He couldn’t panic now. That wouldn’t be helpful to Magnus.

“Clary, can you see through the Portal?” he demanded. “Is Magnus still back on the other side?” He squinted at the small glowing square floating well above their heads.

Clary backed up and shook her head. “No, nothing.”

Alec took out his phone and called Magnus. He did not pick up. Alec continued not to panic. Instead, he sent a text: WE ARE IN NANJING RD SHOPPING AREA, WHERE YOU?

They stood there, waiting, with the unseeing crowd streaming around them, hidden within their glamours. Alec wasn’t sure what they would do if they couldn’t find Magnus. Would they just have to keep going through with the mission? How would that even work? Magnus was the only one of them who spoke Mandarin. Magnus had the scrap of Ragnor’s cloak that was necessary to Track him. They could go to the Institute—itself a project involving getting cash, finding a taxi, and so on—but even there, Magnus had spoken of his long relationship with the Ke family, who ran the place. Alec had expected to have Magnus’s help when they arrived.

The others were all looking at Alec worriedly. Jace had come a little closer, not quite putting his hand on Alec’s shoulder, but as if he were about to. And indeed, Alec knew, if Magnus didn’t appear, and soon, there would be no more mission, no matter how many intellectual exercises he ran about it in his head. Even if the danger of a Prince of Hell loomed in the future, Alec would abandon everything else and go after Magnus first, wherever he might be.

Alec’s phone beeped.

He grabbed at it, flipping it over. It was a message from Magnus. They all crowded around to read it: TOOK AN UNEXPECTED SWIM. MEET ME IN FRONT OF THE MCDONALD’S NEAR GUIZHOU ROAD.

Alec felt Jace’s hand graze his back lightly, a silent reassurance: See, brother, everything is fine.

“Of course there’s a McDonald’s,” said Isabelle, and they headed off, using the GPS on Simon’s phone to guide them.

Sometimes Alec thought that eventually the modern world would overtake the Shadowhunters, despite their best attempts to stay out of it. It was inevitable, if you lived in a big city; just navigating your way around took a certain understanding of the mundane world and how it worked. Here Alec had been dropped into one of the most crowded spots in one of the biggest cities in the world, about as far from his home as he could get while remaining on the planet. And yet he felt a certain familiarity: big city shopping streets were big city shopping streets. The signs were in Chinese, and the aesthetic wasn’t the same, but the feel was the same: the night and the lights and the people, families, strange pairings, solo workers just trying to get through the crowd to get home. It should have been totally alien to Alec, but it wasn’t. It was new. But there was something there he already understood. He was surprised to find how many things in his life worked that way, when he gave them a try.

They met Magnus at the point where the pedestrian part of the road ended and car traffic began. The warlock’s hair was, strangely, soaking wet, and spiked angrily up above his head. His clothes were dry, but they were not the same clothes he had been wearing when they went through the Portal. Alec was a little disappointed—he loved Magnus in a suit—but Magnus had perhaps wisely chosen to blend in, in black jeans, a sleek black button-down shirt, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. He looked like a sexy urban race-car driver. Alec was in favor of it.

He swept up to Alec, put his arms around his neck, and kissed him. Alec kissed him back, passionately, relief coursing through his veins. He would have liked to grab handfuls of Magnus’s shirt and drag him closer, kiss him until they were both staggering, but. He was standing in front of his sister and his parabatai and his parabatai’s girlfriend and her parabatai. He had to draw a line somewhere. He did kiss Magnus back as strongly as he was able; Magnus was here, he was fine, and Alec could feel his body relax.

“I guess you didn’t get to the Institute either,” said Clary, when a significant amount of time had passed.

Magnus broke the kiss.

“Is it all right? For two men to kiss in a crowded street in Shanghai? I don’t know if I’d kiss you that way in Times Square,” said Alec.

“Darling,” Magnus said quietly, “we’re invisible.”

“Oh,” said Alec. “Right.”

“I did not go to the Institute, no,” said Magnus to Clary. “I went to thirty or so feet above the Huangpu River.” He saw Alec’s look of alarm. “Then a few seconds passed, and I was in the Huangpu River.”

“What did you do?” said Jace.

“I tumbled through the air gracefully and landed on my feet on the back of a friendly porpoise,” said Magnus.

“That is very believable,” said Simon, encouraging as always.

Magnus waved his hand. “That is how I wish you to think of me. Riding a porpoise to shore, and straight to join you. I don’t understand it. That’s two Portals in a row that have gone wrong, in ways Portals should not go wrong. How did we get split up?”

“I think,” said Jace, “we were all hoping you would know.”

“I just draw ’em,” said Clary. “That doesn’t mean I understand the magic behind them.”

“No more Portals for a while, anyway,” said Magnus. He pulled the scrap of Ragnor’s cloak from his pocket with a flourish and handed it over to Alec. Jace took out his stele and gestured to Alec, who dutifully held out his hand for Jace to refresh the Tracking rune.

“The rune is still just going to pull us in a direction, and Shanghai is huge,” said Alec. “How are we going to handle this?”

“We’re going to take a taxi,” said Magnus, holding his arm out to the street. “So un-glamour yourselves.” The taxis in Shanghai appeared to be an assortment of colors, but they were all silver on their bottom half and the same model of car, so it was pretty easy to spot them in traffic. One, a vivid shade of violet, quickly pulled over for them.

Magnus eyed the size of their group. “Two taxis.”

Alec waved down a second taxi, and Magnus quickly spoke to the driver of the new taxi, then went to get into the first one.

“Wait, what did you tell him?” Alec said.

“I told him to follow the first cab. And that the dark-haired man with the bright blue eyes would be handling the fare.” He hesitated. “Alec—if Ragnor doesn’t know we’re Tracking him, and he’s in Shanghai, he’ll still be here tomorrow morning. If you don’t want to go racing off without anything to go on but this Tracking rune, I totally get that. We can take a couple of hotel rooms—I know some great places—and tomorrow morning we can go to the Institute and do this through the proper channels.”

Alec tried not to be thrown by this total about-face. “Magnus, I’m touched, but I have to wonder—are you avoiding catching up to Ragnor because you don’t know what to do when you find him? Is that what this is about?”

“This conversation is a real roller coaster,” said Isabelle, sticking her head out of the back window of the second taxi, “but my Mandarin is nonexistent, and Jace’s is really poor, and this taxi driver has started the meter.”

“No,” said Magnus. “It’s just—finding Ragnor is better than having no leads, but it’s absolutely backward from how I would want to do this. I don’t want to go through him to get the Book. I don’t even want to go through Shinyun.”

“They’re the only leads we have, my love,” Alec said, “so I think we’re getting in the cabs.”

“Okay,” said Magnus. He kissed Alec. “Let’s go.”

They both got into the back of the first cab, joining only Simon, who had the map open on his phone and gave a thumbs-up, though his expression was distant. Magnus turned to Alec. “Okay, so what direction?”

Alec gripped the scrap of cloth. “Still west.”

Magnus leaned forward and spoke to the driver in Mandarin, pointing in a direction. The driver seemed surprised but, after a brief negotiation, acquiesced. “Just tell me when we should turn,” Magnus said, and Alec nodded, and the taxis took off into the night.

THE LAST TIME MAGNUS HADbeen in Shanghai was twenty years ago. It had been only months into the rebirth of the city, its sudden strange second life, in which it would become the biggest city in China, flooded with money and new growth. Even now there were new skyscrapers going up, new shining lights wherever Magnus looked. It was still itself, it was still Shanghai. But it had changed so much, in such a short time.

They made their way out of the center of the city, leaving the fancy lights of Nanjing Road behind. They made their way through the lively district of Jing’an, until they were in the vast residential blocks that rolled away forever into the distance, new high-rises and a few garden apartment complexes. Another few turns and they were entering an older neighborhood, a place left over from the Shanghai that the international luxury brands and skyscrapers were busily replacing with a bright sheen of modernity.

While they rode, Magnus tried to explain the unusual Downworlder situation in Shanghai. “Back in the nineteenth century,” he said, “Shanghai was divided into a bunch of international concessions—land that was leased to other countries, within the city. Britain had one, France, the United States. They were still officially part of China, but the other countries could kind of do whatever they wanted within the concession borders. When that happened, the Downworlders of Shanghai struck their own deal, and were given their own concession.”

“What?” said Alec, turning to look at Magnus. “There’s a permanent Downworlder-run neighborhood here?”

“There are a few Sighted mundanes living there as well, probably,” said Magnus. “But yes.”

“If they have a permanent neighborhood, does that mean there’s no Shadow Market in Shanghai?”

Magnus laughed. “Oh, there’s a Shadow Market all right.”

Quickly the streets became too narrow for the taxis, and Magnus and the others abandoned them to continue on foot. Simon looked oddly pale, although not in the vampire way he once had.

“Shadowhunters don’t get carsick,” Jace was saying.

“Did your dad teach you that?” Simon said, wobbling slightly from foot to foot. “Was he ever in a car in his life? Was he ever in a car in Shanghai in his life?”

Clary and Isabelle exchanged looks. “You all right, Simon?” said Clary.

“Hey, they who don’t do well in stop-and-go traffic also serve the Angel,” Alec called over. “Can we go?”

Sometimes Magnus wasn’t sure being a Shadowhunter was better for Simon than being a vampire had been. He was no longer undead; that was definitely good, of course. But there was a certain blood-and-thunder machismo that could creep in uncomfortably around the edges of Shadowhunter culture. Valentine had wielded that narrative of inborn strength, of supremacy, like a weapon. It was an attitude that always threatened to resurface among the Nephilim. Bending and twisting himself to fit inside it had nearly broken Jace. If it hadn’t been for Alec, Isabelle, and Clary…

The Tracking rune had led them into one of the remaining pockets of old Shanghai, from before the wide boulevards and the shining silver malls. They had to walk in single file to avoid blocking the way for pedestrians and cyclists. And it was still crowded here, too, everywhere a flow of people, bicycles, animals, like a rushing river, in a way that reminded Magnus of a dozen cities he’d been to that were always the same and yet always new. Shanghai, Singapore, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Jakarta, Tokyo, New York…

Magnus hadn’t told anyone yet, but he felt something within the glowing crack in his chest, a swelling node of magic. Not evil magic, he thought. Not even alien magic. His own magic, pooling within him. It was creating a kind of aura at the edges of his vision, bright blue and sparkling. The aura seemed to pull and bend in response to other auras that Magnus wasn’t otherwise aware of.

He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. He guessed they would find Ragnor, then through Ragnor find Shinyun, and hopefully she would explain the phenomenon to him. Or he hoped it could wait until they could do some research tomorrow.

Clary was examining a series of signs covered in felt-tip handwriting, tacked up to the windows of a closed storefront. Magnus gestured above them. “It’s a hair salon. That’s just their menu.”

“Isabelle,” Simon stage-whispered. “Can we take home one of the chickens?”

“Yes,” said Isabelle. “You can take home as many as you can catch.”

“Don’t encourage him,” said Clary. To Magnus she said, “Is this the kind of place Ragnor would be?”

Magnus looked around at the narrow lanes, the concrete walls tacked with notices and ads and stenciled graffiti; he could smell animals and food and garbage and people living too close together, everything unchanged for decades in a place that seemed to be transforming itself hourly. “This is not really where Ragnor would live,” he said slowly. “But it is exactly where Ragnor would hide.”

“Unless he knows we’re coming,” said Jace.

“If he knows we’re coming,” said Magnus, “why would he stay in Shanghai at all? He’s an expert in dimensional magic. He could Portal anywhere. He could go to the Spiral Labyrinth and hide, if he wanted to. They don’t know he’s being… controlled, or whatever it is.”

“But the Tracking rune makes it clear he is still in Shanghai,” said Alec. “So he doesn’t know we’re coming.”

“Or,” said Jace, “he wants to be found.”

Magnus hadn’t thought of that, but he agreed it was a possibility. Being in thrall to Sammael and being friendly toward Magnus were not necessarily incompatible, at least not in the mind of Shinyun, and maybe not in the mind of Ragnor, either.

On the other hand, did Ragnor expect him to arrive with five Shadowhunters? One, sure, but five?

He was getting jumpy. His wound tickled.

The Tracking rune led them to a shabby white apartment building. Spiky black graffiti was splashed across one side, over the peeling paint. Alec in the lead, they went in, following him up two flights of stairs to a dingy apartment door in a dingy carpeted hallway. Magnus was about to knock, but then hesitated.

Alec gave him a look and banged on the door for him. After a moment, it opened, revealing a bald, bearded, goat-legged faerie gentleman who gawked in openmouthed horror at discovering an entire squad of Shadowhunters at his door.

“You can’t come in!” he yelped in Shanghainese, much louder than Magnus would have expected.

“They don’t speak any Chinese,” said Magnus politely in Mandarin. “English, if you please. It’s not like it’s any effort for a faerie.”

The faerie didn’t take his wide eyes off the Shadowhunters. “You can’t come in!” he said in English.

“Hi,” said Alec. “We actually don’t have any business with you at all, and we’re sorry to bother you. We—”

“You’ll never find anything!” the faerie shrieked. “My hands are clean, do you hear me? Clean!”

“I’m sure they are,” said Alec. “We’re looking for a warlock. He’s very easy to recognize. He’s green—”

“All right,” said the faerie. He leaned closer. “If I confess to some of what I’ve done, will you give me leniency? I can help you take down some big names. Big names.”

“Do tell,” said Jace.

Alec gave Jace a dark look. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. “If you could tell us whether you’ve seen our friend? We think he might have gone into your apartment.”

“We’re not interested in big names,” put in Magnus.

Jace piped up, “We’re a little interested, right?”

“I can give you Lenny the Squid,” said the faerie fervently. “I can give you Bobby Two-Legs. I can give you Socks MacPherson.”

Alec rubbed his face with his hands, and Magnus restrained a smile. Truly, his boyfriend’s patience and professionalism was a beautiful thing to behold.

“Let’s take a step back,” Alec said. “Have you ever heard of a warlock named Ragnor Fell?”

The faerie stopped and squinted suspiciously at Alec, as though trying to perceive a trick. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions.”

“Have we considered the ‘bad cop’ option?” Jace said, a light growl in his voice. “I’m feeling better and better about it.”

“Fine,” said the faerie. “I’ve never heard of anyone by that name.”

“Hang on a moment,” Alec said, turning to the group. “Can we give this guy some space, actually? He’s scared to death. If five faeries came unannounced to your door, you’d be pretty freaked-out too.”

“Sure,” said Jace, exchanging a look with him. “Come on, guys. Let’s give him some room.” They went down the hallway a bit; Magnus went with them. Alec leaned into the front door and spoke with the faerie. After a minute or so, he emerged back in the hallway, his expression neutral. “I’m going to go inside and speak with Mr. Rumnus for a minute. Magnus, could you come with me?”

Somehow Alec had calmed the faerie down enough to let him inside. Magnus had to remind himself that Alec knew something about talking to untrusting Downworlders. Some of those untrusting Downworlders had become Alec’s close friends.

Simon called, “Does he know his name is—”

“He knows,” said Alec.

Simon nodded, satisfied.

Magnus followed Alec inside. It was a shabbily kept little apartment, quite normal. Perhaps too normal for a goat-legged faerie to be living in, Magnus thought. He began extending his magic outward into the room, trying to keep his expression and his hand motions as neutral as possible.

“Mr. Rumnus says there’s been some bad warlock business in Shanghai of late,” Alec said.

“What kind of bad warlock business?” said Magnus. “Like turf wars?” He was distracted. He had expected some magical signature, some residue at least; the Tracking rune had led them here, so Ragnor had been here, the Tracking rune said he was here. But there was no place for him to be. The apartment was one room, the whole place visible at once; the bathroom door was open and revealed nobody. There was definitely no other magical being in the room other than himself and this faerie. How could this be a dead end?

“What are you doing with all these Shadowhunters?” said Mr. Rumnus abruptly to Magnus.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Alec said. “He’s also a High Warlock.”

“Punch above your weight a little, huh?” said the faerie to Alec, leering.

“Ugh,” said Magnus.

“This isn’t your apartment, is it, Rumnus?” Alec said sharply.

“What?” the faerie said.

“You don’t live here. Look at that.” He gestured at a large sculpture, more than six feet tall. It looked like a school of abstract fish colliding with a flock of abstract birds. It was marvelously hideous. “That’s wrought iron. You have a giant wrought-iron sculpture in your living room?”

“Also,” said Magnus, “that big plastic chair shaped like a hand is very non-faerie.” And then he doubled over in pain.

His head suddenly hurt as though he had been hit hard. A high-pitched scream, quiet but growing louder, began to throb in the back of his head.

He felt hands grasp him, and Alec’s voice yelled, “Magnus!” as though from a long way away. With an effort, he lifted his head, in time to see the ceiling tear open and the whirling clouds of a demon world appear behind a shining Portal.

AS SOON AS THE PORTALopened and the wind began to whistle, Alec knew demons were coming. He drew his bow and yelled, “It’s a trap!” at the open front door.

Isabelle was first to arrive, her whip at the ready. “Of course it’s a trap,” she said.

“Of course we didn’t put on combat runes,” Jace said, joining her.

Demons began to fall into the room through the Portal. These were demons Alec hadn’t seen before, massive snakes with shiny black scales and silent screaming human faces. As soon as they appeared, he began to shoot. Simon entered, an arrow nocked in his bow, looking more alarmed than Alec would have expected. Clary came in laying about her with glowing seraph blades.

It was a strange fight. Rumnus had crawled under a table and was scrunched up with his eyes closed as though he wished it all would just go away. Magnus had one hand extended, and sparks were haphazardly flying from it, sometimes hitting demons and sometimes leaving little scorch marks on the walls and the furniture. His other hand was at his temple and his eyes were squinted closed; he looked like he was fighting through a migraine, though Magnus was not known to get migraines. Alec wanted to go to him, but the room had become an overcrowded mess of snake demons and sharp objects.

Whatever was causing the snakes to appear, it wasn’t pursuing any kind of battlefield strategy. They continued to fall into the room as if dropped haphazardly by a giant unseen hand. Some landed upright, but others sprawled into a tangled mess or came down on their own heads, leaving them open for easy kills. Clary went around the room delivering those kills gleefully.

Alec spun to avoid a demon’s bite and found Jace, arms pinned by two of the snakes. He quickly put arrows in both of them, and the second Jace was free, he leaped forward and buried a seraph blade in the face of the demon that Alec had spun away from, which had been coming up behind him.

They exchanged a quick look, each confirming the other was all right, and turned back to the battle.

It was over quickly, considering the number of demons and the Shadowhunters’ lack of preparation for a fight. From Alec’s perspective there were lots of snakes, and then there were no snakes, only his own heavy panting and that of his friends as they caught their breath, no longer in immediate danger.

Abruptly a gigantic version of the screaming human face of the snakes, this one easily ten feet across, appeared in the Portal. It opened its distended mouth and screeched, its eyes searching. It caught sight of Magnus, who was still clutching his head, his teeth gritted, his fingers sparking at the end of his outstretched hand, but not to any noticeable effect.

Simon fired an arrow into the Portal; it passed through the face and vanished into nothing. He looked at Alec with a panicked expression. Alec shrugged.

And just as suddenly as it had appeared, the demon face vanished. The Portal, too, quickly faded away, leaving only the bare, cracked ceiling of the apartment and the sound of Alec’s own heartbeat in his ears.

He went over to Magnus immediately and put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He leaned in and said, “I’m here. Are you okay?”

Magnus took his hand off his forehead and blinked at Alec. “I’m okay,” he said. He looked oddly unstable, like a reed caught in a wind. “The headache is going away. That was… that was something. I don’t think I’ve ever—”

He stopped himself and a steely look came over his face. “You,” he said past Alec, to the faerie, who was scuttling out from under the table.

“I think we can—” began Rumnus.

“You!” Magnus roared. Alec was surprised—not that Magnus was angry, but at the force in his voice. Magnus kept his cool, in almost all situations. It was one of the great consistencies in Alec’s life. Now, Magnus extended a hand and Rumnus went tumbling over, falling to the ground in a heap.

“This isn’t your apartment,” said Magnus dangerously. “This isn’t Ragnor’s apartment either. In fact,” he went on, “this isn’t anybody’s apartment.” He put his arms above his head, and a great electrical storm came from his hands, crackling as loudly as the demon face had screamed. The bolts of blue energy flew jagged and chaotic around the room, and when they cleared, Alec could see that Magnus had dispelled some powerful illusions, stronger than any glamour Alec had seen before. The apartment was, in fact, empty—abandoned, even. No furniture, no rugs, cracked white walls with unknown dark residue on them, a broken bare lightbulb dangling from the single socket in the ceiling. Magnus turned his gaze on Rumnus, who had gotten to his feet. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he bit out.

Rumnus considered his options, and then, making a decision, yelled, “You’ll never take me alive, narcs!” He ran to the window and threw himself out of it before anyone could stop him.

They watched him plummet toward the ground. Before he hit, huge brown bird’s wings sprang from his back, and he flapped them and flew off into the night.

“How about that,” said Alec mildly into the silence.

Magnus was breathing hard. His hand was gripped tightly on his chest. Just over his wound, Alec noticed. He approached Magnus cautiously.

“Okay,” said Clary, “so what was any of that?”

Magnus went to sit down on the chair, seemed to remember there was no chair, and lowered himself slowly to the floor, exhaling. “I’m not sure.”

“Let’s start with the part that wasn’t snake demons,” said Alec. He folded his arms and looked at Magnus. “What was that? That wasn’t like you. You don’t get angry like that.”

“I often get angry like that,” Magnus retorted, “when encountering lying Downworlders who are collaborating with demons.”

“And we assume he’s collaborating with demons,” said Jace, “due to all of the demons that fell out of the ceiling? And the yelling demon face?”

“Yes,” agreed Magnus. Some of the fight seemed to be draining from him. He looked at Alec. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

“No kidding,” said Isabelle. She started ticking things off on her fingers. “Where’s Ragnor? Why did the Tracking rune lead us here instead of where he actually is? How did he know we were Tracking him? Did he send those demons? Did Shinyun Jung? Did someone else they’re working with who we don’t even know about?”

Alec thought. “There were a bunch of the snakes, but there definitely weren’t enough to be a real threat to all of us. Which means this was either a warning—”

“Or,” Jace put in, “they didn’t realize you were bringing four other Shadowhunters with you.”

“So where next?” said Simon. He had his hands tucked under his crossed arms and was looking squirrelly.

They all looked at Magnus, who sighed heavily. “What does the Tracking rune say?”

Alec took the scrap of cloth back out of his pocket and tried the rune again. He shrugged. “It says we’re in the right place.”

Simon said, “We could try the Institute. See what they know about this ‘bad warlock’ stuff the faerie mentioned.”

“No,” said Alec sharply, and Simon jerked back. “Let’s not raise any more alarm bells than we have already. We need to try to control the flow of information to the Clave.”

“We are the Clave,” said Isabelle. “This isn’t like a few years ago, when we were too young to have a voice.”

Jace shook his head. “Alec’s right. We’re a very small part of the Clave, and our approach to Downworlder business is far from universal or even normal, by Nephilim standards. We don’t know what we’re getting into.”

“We do, actually,” said Magnus. He seemed to be recovering; he picked himself up off the floor and carefully wiped dust from his jacket. “The Shanghai Institute is run by the Ke family; it has been for years. They’re good people. They’re the family of Jem Carstairs—of Brother Zachariah. But,” he added, as Jace opened his mouth to respond, “we have nothing for them to do right now, it is getting late, and I am not sleeping on a cot in a spare room in an Institute. I am going to make a call, and then we are going to stay at my favorite hotel in the city.” Alec felt a warm rush of relief; this was more the Magnus he knew. “When you travel with me,” Magnus reminded them, “you travel in style.”