Lady Midnight

They were an accusation against the Clave, those eyes. They said, You abandoned me. You did not protect me. I was alone.

“I have come back,” Mark said.

“The Wild Hunt would never have released you,” said the Inquisitor. “You were far too valuable to them. And faeries don’t give back what they take.”

“Robert—” Magnus began.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Robert Lightwood said. “Magnus? Anyone?”

Magnus was silent, his unhappiness evident. Jace’s gold eyes were unreadable.

Dru made a frightened, stifled sound. Clary whirled on Robert.

“It’s not fair to interrogate them,” she said. “They’re just kids.”

“Don’t you think I remember the trouble you and Jace got into when you were ‘just kids’?”

“He has a point.” Jace smiled at Julian and Emma, and the smile was like gold melted over steel. You could see how the softness was a disguise, and how what lay under it had won Jace the title of best Shadowhunter of his generation.

“We didn’t use any necromancy,” said Julian. “We didn’t need to. The thing about faeries—they’re always willing to make a deal.”

Two figures appeared in the doorway of the Sanctuary. Anselm Nightshade, his sharp, bony face wary. And beside him, Arthur, looking tired and carrying a glass of wine. Julian had left the full bottle in the Sanctuary earlier that night. It was a good vintage.

The protected space of the Sanctuary extended slightly past the doors. Anselm edged a toe over the line, winced, and quickly pulled it back.

“Arthur. You claimed you were discussing Sophocles with Anselm Nightshade all evening?” Robert Lightwood said.

“‘If you try to cure evil with evil you will add more pain to your fate,’” said Arthur.

Robert raised an eyebrow.

“He’s quoting Antigone,” said Julian wearily. “He means yes.”

“Come into the room, Arthur,” said Robert. “Please do not give me the impression you’re hiding in the Sanctuary.”

“When you use that voice, I want to hide in the Sanctuary,” said Magnus. He had begun wandering around the room, picking up objects and setting them down. His actions appeared idle, but Julian knew better. Magnus did little without premeditation.

Neither did Jace. Jace was sitting on the lowest step of the stairs, his sharp gaze unwavering. Julian felt the weight of it, like pressure against his chest. He cleared his throat.

“My younger brothers and sisters have nothing to do with this,” he said. “And Tavvy is exhausted. He was almost killed tonight.”

“What?” Clary said, alarm darkening her green eyes. “How did that happen?”

“I’ll explain,” Julian said. “Just let them go.”

Robert hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. “They can leave.”

Relief washed through Julian as Ty, Livvy, and Dru headed up the steps, Livvy still carrying Octavian against her shoulder. At the top, Ty paused for a moment and looked down. He was looking at Mark, and the expression on his face was fearful.

“It is the disease of tyranny to trust no friends, Inquisitor,” said Anselm Nightshade. “Aeschylus.”

“I did not come here, from my daughter’s engagement party, for a classics lesson,” said Robert. “Nor is this Downworlder business. Please wait for us in the Sanctuary, Anselm.”

Arthur passed his glass to Anselm, who raised it ironically but went, seeming relieved to get away from the demarcation line where hallowed ground began.

The moment he was gone, Robert rounded on Arthur. “What do you know about all this, Blackthorn?”

“A convoy came to us from Faerie,” said Arthur. “They offered to return Mark to his family, and in exchange, we would help them discover who was killing faeries in Los Angeles.”

“And you said nothing of this to the Clave?” said Robert. “Despite knowing you were breaking the Law, the Cold Peace—”

“I wanted my nephew back,” said Arthur. “Wouldn’t you have done the same, for your family?”

“You’re a Shadowhunter,” said Robert. “If you must choose between your family and the Law, you choose the Law!”

“Lex malla, lex nulla,” said Arthur. “You know our family motto.”

“He did the right thing.” For once there was no humor in Jace’s voice. “I would have done the same. Any of us would.”

Robert looked exasperated. “And did you discover it? Who was killing faeries?”

“We discovered it tonight,” said Julian. “It was Malcolm Fade.”

Magnus stiffened, his cat eyes flashing. “Malcolm?” He executed a quick about-face and marched toward Julian. “And why do you think it was a warlock? Because we know magic? Is all dark magic to be blamed on us, then?”

“Because he said he did it,” said Julian.

Clary’s mouth fell open. Jace remained seated, face unreadable as a cat’s.

Robert’s expression darkened. “Arthur. You’re the head of the Institute. Talk. Or are you going to leave that to your nephew?”

“There are things,” Julian said, “things we didn’t tell Arthur. Things he doesn’t know.”