The Buenos Aires Institute was located in the town of San Andres de Giles. To mundane eyes, the Institute looked like a large crypt standing in an abandoned cemetery, in a profusion of ghost-pale wildflowers.
To Alec’s eyes, it looked worse. It was a tall edifice, painted a dull rust color, but one wing of the building was a charred ruin. Alec had known the Institute was damaged during the Dark War, but he’d thought it would have been repaired long before.
Lily sniffed the air. “They mixed blood in the paint.”
The Institute looked abandoned, except for the fact there was a guard at the door. Even that made Alec’s eyes narrow. Shadowhunters didn’t typically keep watch on their own Institutes, unless it was a time of war.
He nodded to Lily, and they moved forward to meet the Shadowhunters of Buenos Aires. The guard at the door looked a few years younger than Alec. His face was hard, his black eyebrows drawn sharply together, and he was squinting at them suspiciously.
“Um,” said Alec. “Ola? Wait, that’s Portuguese.”
Lily smiled a sunny fanged smile at the guard. “Let me handle this.”
“I can speak English,” the guard told Alec hastily.
“Great,” said Alec. “I’m from the New York Institute. My name is—”
The guard’s dark eyes went wide. “You’re Alexander Lightwood!”
Alec blinked. “That’s me.”
“I was in the Inquisitor’s office once,” the guard confided shyly. “He has a tapestry of you hanging up in there.”
“Yeah,” said Alec. “I know.”
“That’s how I know what you look like. I’m so thrilled to meet you. I mean, it’s such an honor. Oh no, what am I doing? I’m Joaquín Acosta Romero. It’s a pleasure.”
Joaquín held out his hand for Alec to shake. When Alec shook his hand, he felt the younger man vibrating slightly with excitement. He cast a panicked glance toward Lily, who grinned and mouthed “Cute” at him.
“This is Lily, who is no help,” said Alec.
“Oh yes, oh, pleased to meet you too,” said Joaquín. “Wow, come in.”
Lily smiled sweetly, showing her fangs. “I can’t.”
“Oh, right! I’m sorry. I’ll show you around to the back entrance. There’s a door to the Sanctuary there.”
Magnus had enchanted the New York Institute so Downworlders could walk in certain places there, but most Institutes still kept them out of all but the Sanctuary rooms. Alec was pleased to see Joaquín flash a smile at Lily that seemed genuine and welcoming.
“Thanks,” said Alec. “We’re meeting friends on a mission, but I hoped we could stow our bags now so we can come back to sleep later. We can set up cots in the Sanctuary.”
Joaquín led them down a dark cobwebbed alley. Alec thought of the wing that was rubble. Possibly this Institute wouldn’t have cots.
“Um, will your friend—will she need a coffin?” asked Joaquín. “I don’t think we have coffins. I mean, I’m sure I could find one somewhere! The head of our Institute is, um, very careful about visitors, but I’m certain he can’t object to a guest who is coming with Alec Lightwood.”
“I don’t need a coffin,” said Lily. “Just a windowless room. It’s no problem.”
“You can address her when you’re talking about her,” said Alec, mildly.
Joaquín cast an anxious look at Alec, then an even more anxious look at Lily. “Of course! I’m sorry. I don’t have much experience talking to—”
“Vampires?” asked Lily sweetly.
“Women,” said Joaquín.
“It’s true I’m five fabulous foot of pure woman,” Lily mused.
Joaquín coughed. “Well, I don’t know any vampires either. My mother died in the Dark War. A lot of us did. And afterward, most of the women left. Mr Breakspear says that women aren’t suited to the rigor of a tightly run Institute.”
He peered anxiously at Alec, as if checking in on Alec’s opinion on this.
“Clary Fairchild is one of the heads of my Institute,” said Alec curtly. “Jia Penhallow is the leader of all Shadowhunters. Anyone who says women are weak is afraid they’re too strong.”
Joaquín nodded several times in rapid succession, though Alec wasn’t sure if it was agreement or pure nerves.
“I haven’t been to any other Institutes. When I turned eighteen, I was hoping I could go to one on my travel year, maybe even meet someone, but the head of our Institute said I couldn’t be spared. Not when the Downworlders in our Shadow Market are so dangerous.”
Joaquín hung his head. Alec was trying to phrase a question that wouldn’t shock the boy further, about why this was such a harsh posting. About what exactly was going on with the Buenos Aires Institute. But before he could, they reached the end of the alley and the battered door to the Sanctuary of the Institute. It looked like the inside of a church that had suffered a blast, the long windows boarded up, the floor blackened.
There was a man in the center of the charred floor, holding forth to a group of silent Shadowhunter men. He looked about forty, his fair hair already turning silver, and he was the only one in the room wearing gear that was not patched or worn.
“That’s Clive Breakspear, the head of our Institute,” said Joaquín. “Sir, we have a visitor. It’s Alexander Lightwood.”
He said something in Spanish, which judging by the repetition of Alec’s name Alec thought was the same thing, then glanced around as if expecting an enthusiastic response. He didn’t receive one. Several of the men in the circle seemed immediately wary.
Clive Breakspear did not look wary at all.
“So you’re Alec Lightwood,” said the head of the Buenos Aires Institute slowly. “Then this must be your Downworlder whore.”
There was a terrible silence.
It was broken by Lily, who blinked and said: “Excuse me? Have you been living in a hole? Are you not aware Alec is dating famous warlock Magnus Bane and is not interested in ladies of any persuasion?”
There was a rush of whispers. Alec didn’t think everyone was stunned by this information. They were stunned that Lily would say it, as if they expected him to be ashamed.
“Let’s be clear on this matter. This is my friend Lily, the head of the New York vampire clan.” Alec put his hand on his seraph blade, and the whispers hushed. “Think very carefully,” said Alec, “about how you wish to speak of her. Or of Magnus Bane.”
He almost said my fiancé, but it was an awkward word. Once he’d said “my betrothed” and felt like a total idiot. He longed sometimes, with an almost physical ache, just to say my husband, and have it be true.
“I’m here on a mission,” Alec continued. “I thought I could rely on the hospitality of the Institute and my fellow Shadowhunters. I see I was wrong.”
He cast a look around the room. Several of the men could not meet his eyes.
“What mission?” demanded Clive Breakspear.
“One which requires discretion.”
Alec regarded him steadily, until Clive Breakspear flushed and looked away.
“You can stay here,” he agreed grudgingly. “The Downworlder cannot.”
“Like I want to,” Lily sneered. “I don’t stay in places where the décor isn’t ten out of ten, and this place is a minus fourteen thousand. OK, Alec, let’s make a plan for where we will meet up after I find a nice windowless hotel room. Do you want to—”
“What are you talking about?” Alec demanded. “If they won’t have you, I won’t stay here. The hell with this place. I’m going with you.”
Lily’s face went soft, for the space of time it took to blink. Then she patted his arm and said: “Of course you are.”
She sniffed disdainfully and spun on her heel. Clive Breakspear barreled toward her.
“I have some questions for you, Downworlder.”
Alec caught his arm and stepped in front of Lily. “Are you sure about that?”
They were outnumbered, but Alec was the Inquisitor’s son, Jace Herondale’s parabatai. He was protected in a way many others were not. That meant he had to use whatever he had, for those who had no protection.
After a long moment, Breakspear stepped back.
Alec wished he could’ve thought of a really scathing exit line, but those weren’t his specialty. He and Lily just left, Joaquín chasing after them.
“By the Angel,” Joaquín said. “I didn’t expect that—I didn’t think—I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not the first Institute I haven’t been welcome in,” said Alec.
Especially if he was with Magnus. It didn’t happen often, but a couple of Institutes before now had tried to separate them or made clear they shouldn’t have come together. Alec always made clear what he thought of that.
“I’m so sorry,” Joaquín repeated helplessly.
Alec nodded to him; then Alec and Lily went out into the night. Alec stood with the blasted building at their backs, and breathed in one long, deep breath.
“Shadowhunters are trash,” Lily announced.
Alec gave her a look.
“Present company excepted. And Jem,” said Lily. “I’m having a terrible time in Buenos Aires, and I don’t eat, but I’m in the mood for a delicious bowl of Jembalaya.”
“He’s married!” Alec pointed out once again.
“Please stop reminding me. She smells like books. I may be immortal, but life is too short to spend reading.” Lily paused for an instant, then added quietly: “Raphael liked her. She and Ragnor Fell and Raphael used to have little meetings and tell each other secrets.”
Alec understood the tension in her voice now. Lily was slightly wary of Magnus too: of anyone not in her clan whom she thought Raphael Santiago might have loved.
“I told Jem we’d meet him outside the Shadow Market,” said Alec, effectively distracting Lily. “We can just carry our bags until we find a place to stay. For now, let’s see about this place which has the Buenos Aires Institute running scared, where only I can go.”