Chain of Gold

“Wait,” said Cordelia suddenly. “A box covered in alchemical symbols—the ourobouros is an alchemical symbol, isn’t it? Matthew, didn’t we see a box with a serpent design on it? In the Hell Ruelle?”

Matthew started. “Yes,” he said. “In the chamber of Hypatia Vex. A wooden box with an ourobouros symbol burned into the sides. It makes sense; Hypatia is an inveterate collector.”

“Excellent,” said Christopher. “We’ll just tell her we need it, then.”

“Go ahead, if you fancy being turned into a china cabinet,” said James. “Hypatia does not like Shadowhunters.” He looked thoughtful. “Good catch, though, Daisy. There must be some way for us to get to it.”

“We could rob the Hell Ruelle,” said Thomas.

“And wear masks,” said Lucie eagerly. “Like highwaymen.”

“Only a fool would rob Hypatia Vex,” said Matthew. “And let it not be said that Matthew Fairchild is a fool. At least, let it not be said in my hearing. I would find it very hurtful.”

“I think Christopher is right,” said Cordelia. “We should ask Hypatia.”

Christopher looked stunned and gratified in equal measure. “We should?”

“Well, not us,” said Cordelia. “It is true she does not like most Shadowhunters. But there is certainly at least one she likes very much.”

* * *

“Daisy, darling, I’m delighted to see you,” Anna declared. “Though it is entirely bad form to appear unannounced at teatime. There simply won’t be enough cake for everybody. The girls will have cake and the boys nothing. There is no other fair way to do it.”

The flat on Percy Street remained a cheerful oasis of chaos. Perhaps it was even more chaotic than it had been on Cordelia’s last visit. A lace-edged ribbon that Cordelia suspected came from a lady’s corset adorned one of the knives stuck in Anna’s mantelpiece, swinging jauntily from a jeweled hilt. Anna’s gold-covered sofa and mismatched chairs were all filled with people. Thomas, too tall for the chairs, was stretched out on the hearth rug with his boots balanced on the coal bucket. On her small table, Anna had laid out, with the air of a magnificent hostess, a fruitcake she called barmbrack, and a Victoria sponge she’d purchased from a pastry cook’s.

“That is unjust desserts,” said James.

“The world is unjust, my love,” Anna told him. She sat upon the arm of the high wing-backed chair where Christopher was sitting, swinging one booted foot in front of her, and idly reached down to stroke Thomas’s hair. The fine strands slipped through her long, scarred fingers. “Of course I would offer you cake, dear cousin, if I thought it would ease your heart.”

Thomas gave her a fond but tired look. “I think in this case, assistance would be better than cake.”

“By all means,” said Anna. “Tell me what’s going on.”

As James explained that they required a Pyxis—though not precisely why, implying it was related to the demon attacks—Cordelia looked back and forth between the two cousins, James and Anna. In many ways, the two of them looked more like brother and sister than James and Lucie, or Anna and Christopher. They shared the same crow-black hair, like Will’s and Cecily’s, and the same chiseled, angular faces. They both wore their intelligence like armor—sharp minds and sharp retorts protecting what softness might lie beneath.

“And so,” James finished, “we thought, perhaps tonight at the Hell Ruelle—”

Anna flicked an eyebrow upward. “Ah yes, about that. Let me be perfectly clear what you are asking: You want me to seduce a warlock in order to procure you a tragically outmoded box in which to, no doubt, house a dangerous demon?” Anna surveyed the room. “How did you decide on this plan? And why in Raziel’s name haven’t you told anyone else about it?”

“Because we are guessing?” hazarded Matthew.

“Because we cannot,” said Lucie stiffly. “We have sworn a vow to protect the source who gave us the information our guesses are based on. We cannot even tell you, dear Anna. You must simply trust us that this is for a good reason.”

Anna threw her hands up. “All right. You are off your heads, every one of you.”

James’s mouth tugged upward at the corner. “Don’t you think you could do it?”

“Humph.” Anna toyed with her watch so the chain caught the light and glittered. “I could do it. But it goes entirely against my code. It is against my strict policy to seduce anybody twice.”

“I didn’t know you’d seduced Hypatia once,” said Matthew.

Anna waved an impatient hand. “Ages ago. How do you think I got invited to the Hell Ruelle in the first place? Honestly, Matthew.”

“How did you leave things with Hypatia?” said Lucie. “Was her heart broken? In that case, she might want… revenge.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Wait here a moment, my dear novelist. In fact, all of you wait here, except Cordelia. You come with me, Daisy.”

She swung up from her place on the arm of Christopher’s chair and strode across the room, bounding up a couple of steps and disappearing behind a wooden door. Cordelia stood, smoothed the frills of her gown, wiggled her eyebrows at Lucie, and marched into the infamous bedchamber of Anna Lightwood.

It was surprisingly ordinary. If Cordelia had hoped for scandalous etchings or tearstained love letters pinned to the walls, there were none. Instead there were cigars laid out with bottles of cologne on a battered walnut desk, and a kingfisher-blue waistcoat slung carelessly over a japanned screen. The bed was unmade, the sheets a tangle of silk.

As Cordelia closed the door carefully after her, Anna glanced up, tossing her a grin and a brightly colored bundle. Cordelia caught it reflexively. It was a long bolt of cloth: a royal-blue silk.

“What’s this?” asked Cordelia.

Anna leaned against one of her bedposts, her hands in her pockets. “Indulge me. Hold it up against yourself.”

Cordelia did as she was told. Perhaps Anna was having a dress made for a paramour? And using Cordelia as a model?

“Yes,” Anna murmured. “The shade quite suits your coloring. As would a claret, I think, or a deep gold or saffron. None of these insipid pastels all the girls are wearing.”

Cordelia smoothed a hand down the fabric. “I didn’t think you liked dresses.”

Anna shrugged, a brief lilt of her shoulders. “Wearing them myself was like having my soul in a prison of petticoats, but I deeply appreciate a beautiful woman in a gown that matches her. In fact, one of my favorite paramours—a lady who entertained me for almost two weeks—was a belle who you might know from the mundane fashion papers.”

“Is this for her? Is it—” Cordelia began, delighted.

Anna laughed. “I’ll never tell. Now put it down and come along. I’ve got what I came for.”

She held up a small black-bound memorandum book. Cordelia hadn’t even seen her retrieve it. They strode out of the bedroom, Anna waving the book over her head in triumph. “This,” she announced, “will hold the answers to all our questions.”

The occupants of the parlor looked up. Lucie, Christopher, and Matthew were squabbling over cake—though, Cordelia saw, a piece had been set on a plate for Thomas already and rested in his lap. James was looking into the cold grate of the fireplace, his expression distant.

Matthew looked up, his eyes fever-bright. “Is this your list of conquests?”

“Of course not,” Anna declared. “It’s a memorandum book… about my conquests. That is an important but meaningful distinction.”

Cordelia sank back onto the sofa beside Lucie, who had succeeded in acquiring a piece of Victoria sponge. Matthew leaned against the frame of the sofa beside her; James was looking over at Anna now, his eyes the color of sunlight through pale yellow leaves.

Anna flipped through the book. There were many pages, and many names written in a bold, sprawling hand.

“Hmm, let me see. Katherine, Alicia, Virginia—a very promising writer, you should look out for her work, James—Mariane, Virna, Eugenia—”

“Not my sister Eugenia?” Thomas nearly upended his cake.

“Oh, probably not,” Anna said. “Laura, Lily… ah, Hypatia. Well, it was a brief encounter, and I suppose you might say she seduced me.…”

“Well, that hardly seems fair,” said James. “Like someone solving a case before Sherlock Holmes. If I were you I would feel challenged, as if to a duel.”

Matthew chuckled. Anna gave James a dark look. “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said.

“Is it working?” said James.

“Possibly,” said Anna, regarding the book. Cordelia couldn’t help but wonder: Was Ariadne’s name in there? Was she considered a conquest now, or something—someone—else?

“I appreciate the scientific rigor with which you’ve approached this project, Anna,” said Christopher, who had gotten jam on his sleeve. “Though I don’t think I could manage to collect that many names and also pursue science. Much too time-consuming.”

Anna laughed. “How many names would you want to collect, then?”

Christopher tilted his head, a brief frown of concentration crossing his face, and did not reply.

“I would only want one,” said Thomas.

Cordelia thought of the delicate tracery of the compass rose on Thomas’s arm, and wondered if he had any special person in mind.

“Too late for me to only have one,” declared Matthew airily. “At least I can hope for several names in a carefully but enthusiastically selected list.”

“Nobody’s ever tried to seduce me at all,” Lucie announced in a brooding fashion. “There’s no need to look at me like that, James. I wouldn’t say yes, but I could immortalize the experience in my novel.”

“It would be a very short novel, before we got hold of the blackguard and killed him,” said James.