“No,” James said.

“I am abashed,” said Belial, who looked no such thing. “It would seem you have sought me out, not the other way around. Did you come here to scold me?”

“Would you believe,” James said, “I didn’t come here for you at all?”

“Probably not,” Belial said. “You must admit it does seem unlikely. I see you brought a warlock with you.” His steel-colored eyes danced across Magnus. “And a son of Asmodeus at that. My nephew.”

“‘How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning,’” said Magnus, in a thoughtful sort of tone, and James realized he was quoting the Bible. “‘For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into Heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God, I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High.’”

Belial finished the quote. “‘Yet thou shalt be brought down to Hell, to the sides of the Pit.’”

“Quite,” said Magnus.

“You are very rude,” said Belial. “Does your father enjoy being reminded of the Fall? For I doubt it.”

“I don’t much care what he enjoys,” said Magnus. “My father is not a thief, however; he does not go about robbing others of their homes. Lilith is powerful. Do you not fear her wrath?”

Belial began to laugh. The sound seemed to echo off the polished floor, off the far points of light James had begun to suspect were very distant stars. “Fear Lilith? Oh, that is amusing.”

“You should be afraid,” said Magnus, very softly. “You have one. You only need three.”

Belial’s laughter stopped. The look he bent on Magnus was fleeting, but filled with a sudden, sour hatred. “I do not like trespassers,” he said. “Or, for that matter, nephews.”

He flicked his hand toward Magnus, and Magnus—with a shout—was lifted off his feet and flung bodily into the darkness. James gave a cry and ran toward the place where he’d vanished, but he was gone. There was no sign he’d ever been there at all.

You have one. You only need three.

James glanced back at Belial, who was regarding him with a cold calculation. It was clear Belial had not expected his presence here, and—like a chess master surprised by an unexpected move—was wondering how to turn the situation to his advantage.

“If Magnus is hurt,” James said, “I will be very upset.”

“Such an odd child you are,” Belial said. “As if it would matter what you felt. I admit, though, I am curious: If you did not come here to seek me out, then why come?”

James considered. Belial was clever; it would take a careful lie to fool him. “I wanted to see Edom. It was there that I intended to travel.”

“I see.” Belial’s eyes gleamed. “I had rather expected incursions into my new realm, so I set this gate here to stop intruders.” He gestured airily at the chessboard darkness. “I did not expect you to be one of the intruders. What interest could you have in Edom?”

“Magnus had heard you stole the realm from Lilith, the mother of warlocks,” said James. “I suppose I was curious what my grandfather could want with such a trackless waste. I was curious about you. Your plans.”

“Bane pities Lilith, I imagine,” said Belial. “Warlocks are taught she is their ancestor, and to worship her. But if you did the same, you would bestow your sympathy on the undeserving.” He leaned back against the throne. “Lilith was Adam’s first wife in Eden, you know, but she left the Garden to couple with the demon Sammael. The world’s first unfaithful female.” He smiled sourly. “She is known as a murderer of children, whatever the warlocks may tell you differently.”

“I do not pity her,” said James, “nor any of you ancient demons—for all your claims to royalty, your thrones and titles, for all your pride, you are nothing more than the first evil the world ever saw.”

Belial narrowed his eyes.

“I see why you made this place a chessboard,” said James. “Worlds, lives, all are a game to you.”

“Might I remind you,” said Belial, with a cryptic smile, “I did not seek you out. And here you come, fussing and angry, into my realm, my lands. I have left you quite alone—”

“You lie,” James said, unable to help himself. “You have tormented me in dreams. Showed me every death. Made me live them.” His breath came quickly. “Why are you murdering Shadowhunters and taking their runes? And why send me visions of what you’re doing? Why would you want me to know?”

Belial’s smile stayed fixed in place. He drummed his fingers—his hands were oddly curved, almost like claws—on the arms of his throne. “Visions, you say? I have not sent you any visions.”

“And that is a lie!” James shouted. “Is this your game? If you cannot force me to obey you, you will drive me mad? Or do death and grief amuse you for their own sake?”

“Be quiet,” said Belial, and his voice was like a slap. “Death and grief do in fact amuse me, but to assume you are worth my lies—that is arrogance indeed.” He gazed down at James, and James realized with a spark of surprise that there was a red mark on the lapel of Belial’s white suit. A red mark that was spreading.

It was blood from the wound Cortana had dealt him all those months ago. It was true then—he had not healed.

“You have one,” James said, his voice ringing clearly through the darkness. “All you need is three.”

Belial turned his burning eyes on James. “What did you say, child of my blood?”

“One wound,” said James, gambling that he was right. “You already have one mortal wound from Cortana. All it takes is three—”

“Be silent!” Belial roared, and suddenly James could see through the beautiful human mask of his face to what lay within—a terrible pit born of fire and shifting shadows. James knew he was seeing Belial’s true face, a burning scar across the skin of the universe.

“I am a Prince of Hell,” said Belial, in a voice like flame. “Such is my power. You think your protection will save you? It will not. You are human, as is she who bears Cortana—maggots crawling across the Earth.” He rose to his feet, the image of a human man, but James could see what lay behind and beyond the false image. A pillar of fire, of cloud, of lightning black as night. “I shall raise my throne above the stars of God! I shall walk upon the Earth and my reach shall exceed the heavens! And you will not stop me!”

He began to advance on James. There was a hunger in his gaze, a terrifying wordless appetite. James began to retreat, backing away from his grandfather.

“You have brought yourself to my place of strength,” Belial said. “There is no land here for you to reach into and turn against me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” James was still backing up, stepping carefully across the alternating squares: white, black, white. “You cannot touch me.”

Belial grinned. “You think you are protected here, because you are protected on Earth?” he said. “I invite you to test that theory.” He took another step forward and winced—he covered it quickly, but James had not missed it. Belial’s wound was paining him still. “In fact, why have you not already tried to escape back to your little world?” Belial mused. “Are you unwelcome there? Tired of the place? Worlds are small things, aren’t they?” He smirked. “Or is it that you don’t know how to get back, without your warlock to help you?”