Lady Midnight

She screamed, and the bubbles rose up around her, silent. They were below her, like nightmares rising: lumpy, slippery creatures. Waving tentacles crowned with jagged teeth flailed toward her. She swung Manukel and severed the spiked limb reaching for her leg. Black blood exploded into the water, billowing up in clouds.

A scarlet, snakelike thing shot toward her through the water. She kicked out, collided with something fleshy and soft. She gagged on revulsion and stabbed downward; more blood spilled. The sea around her was turning to charcoal.

She kicked up toward the surface, carried on a billow of demon blood. As she rose, she could see the white moon, a blurred pearl on the surface of the water. The Breathing rune had burned off her skin; her lungs felt as if they were collapsing. She could feel the churn of water under her feet, didn’t dare to look down. She reached up, up toward where the water ended, felt her hand break the surface, the chill of air on her fingers.

Something caught at her wrist. Her seraph blade fell from her hand, a glowing point of light that tumbled away from her as she was hauled to the surface of the water. She gasped in air, but it was too soon. Water filled her lungs, her chest, and darkness slammed into her with the force of a truck.

Idris, 2009

It was at Emma and Julian’s parabatai ceremony that she learned two important things. The first was that she wasn’t the only Carstairs left in the world.

Their parabatai ceremony was performed in Idris, because they had fought in the Dark War, and their valor was recognized. At least, Julian said, it was recognized sometimes—not when they really wanted anything important, like his sister back from Wrangel Island, but when the Nephilim felt like throwing a party about how awesome Nephilim were, it was always a feature.

When they arrived, they looked around the streets of Alicante, astonished. The last time they had been in the capital city of Idris, it had been wrecked by the Dark War. The streets torn up, nails hammered into walls to keep out faeries, the doors of the Accords Hall torn away. Now it was pristine again, the cobblestones back in place, the canals winding by the houses, and the demon towers glimmering over it all.

“It seems smaller,” Julian said, looking around from the Accords Hall steps.

“It’s not that it’s smaller.” The voice belonged to a young man with dark hair and dark eyes, smiling down at them. “It’s that you’ve grown.”

They stared at him.

“Don’t you remember me?” he said. He lowered his voice as if he were quoting. “Emma Cordelia Carstairs. Stay with your parabatai. Sometimes it’s braver not to fight. Protect them, and save your vengeance for another day.”

“Brother Zachariah?” Emma was astonished. “You helped us during the Dark War—”

“I am no longer a Silent Brother,” he said. “Only an ordinary man. My name is James. James Carstairs. But everyone calls me Jem.”

There was astonishment, and there was chatter, and Julian gave Emma space to be shocked and to pepper former Brother Zachariah with questions. Jem explained that he had become a Silent Brother in 1878, but he had shed the role now so that he could marry the woman he loved, the warlock Tessa Gray. Julian asked if that meant he was a hundred and fifty years old and Jem admitted that he nearly was, though he didn’t look it. He looked about twenty-three.

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” Emma demanded as they wended their way into the Silent City, down long stone staircases. “That you were a Carstairs?”

“I thought I might die,” he said candidly. “It was a battle. It seemed a cruel thing to tell you if I wasn’t going to live through the day. And after that Tessa cautioned me that I should give you time, to grieve for your parents, to adjust to your new life.” He turned and looked at her, and his expression was both sorrowful and affectionate. “You’re a Shadowhunter, Emma. And neither Tessa nor I are Nephilim, not anymore. To come and live with me, though you would be welcome, you’d have to give up being a Shadowhunter. And that was too cruel a choice to place in front of you.”

“Come and live with you?” It was Julian, a warning sharp in his tone. “Why would she do that? She has a home. She has a family.”

“Exactly,” Jem said. “And there is more. Can you give me a moment alone with Emma?”

Julian checked in with Emma with his eyes, and she nodded. He turned and made his way down the stairs, glancing back several times to make sure she was all right.

Jem touched her arm with light fingers. She was wearing ceremonial gear, ready for the ritual, but she could feel the scar she had given herself with Cortana flare when he touched her, as if recognizing their shared blood. “I wanted to be here for you, for this,” he said. “For I had a parabatai myself once, and the bond of it is precious to me.”

Emma didn’t ask what had happened to Jem’s parabatai. Silent Brothers were forbidden from having parabatai, and besides, a hundred and thirty years was a long, long time.

“But I don’t know when I can be with you again,” he said. “Tessa and I, we have to find something. Something important.” He hesitated. “It will be dangerous looking for it, but once it’s found I’d like to be part of your life once more. Like a sort of uncle.” He gave a half smile. “You might not guess it, but I have a lot of experience in being an uncle.”

His gaze was steady on hers, and though there was no physical resemblance between them, for that moment Emma was reminded of her father—of his level gaze and kind face.