Lord of Shadows

Livvy perked up at the sight of her tutor. The family had gathered for dinner, which was served at a long table in a massive Victorian dining room. Angels had once been painted on the ceiling, but they had long ago been nearly completely covered by dust and the stains of old burns. “Did you hear anything from Alec and Magnus?”

Diana shook her head, taking the seat opposite Livvy. Livvy wore a blue dress that looked like it had been stolen from the set of a BBC period piece. Though they’d fled the L.A. Institute with none of their belongings, it turned out there were years’ worth of clothes stored in London, though none of them looked as if they’d been purchased after 1940. Evelyn, Kit, and the Blackthorn family sat around the table in an odd assortment of clothes: Ty and Kit in trousers and long-sleeved shirts, Tavvy in a striped cotton shirt and shorts, and Drusilla in a black velvet gown that had delighted her with its Gothic appeal. Diana had rejected all the garments and simply hand washed her own jeans and shirt.

“What about the Clave?” said Ty. “Have you talked to the Clave?”

“Are they ever useful?” Kit muttered under his breath. He didn’t think anyone had heard him, but someone must have, because Evelyn burst out laughing. “Oh, Jessamine,” she said to no one. “Come now, that isn’t in good taste at all.”

The Blackthorns all raised their eyebrows at each other. No one commented, though, because Bridget had appeared from the kitchen, carrying steaming plates of meat and vegetables, both of which had been boiled to the point of tastelessness.

“I just don’t see why we can’t go home,” Dru said glumly. “If the Centurions defeated all the sea demons, like they said . . .”

“It doesn’t meant Malcolm won’t come back,” said Diana. “And it’s Blackthorn blood he wants. You’re staying within these walls, and that’s final.”

Kit had passed out during the horrible thing they called a Portal journey—the terrible whirl through absolutely icy nothingness—so he’d missed the scene that must have occurred when they’d appeared in the London Institute—minus Arthur—and Diana had explained they were there to stay.

Diana had contacted the Clave to tell them about Malcolm’s threats—but Zara had been there first. Apparently she’d assured the Council that the Centurions had it all under control, that they were more than a match for Malcolm and his army, and the Clave had been only too happy to take her word for it.

And as if Zara’s assurance had in fact effected a miracle, Malcolm didn’t turn up again, and no demons visited the Western Seaboard. Two days had passed, and there had been no news of disaster.

“I hate Zara and Manuel being in the Institute without us there to watch them,” said Livvy, throwing her fork down. “The longer they’re there, the better claim they have for the Cohort taking it over.”

“Ridiculous,” said Evelyn. “Arthur runs the Institute. Don’t be paranoid, girl.” She pronounced it gel.

Livvy flinched. Though everyone, even Dru and Tavvy, had finally been brought up to speed on the situation—including Arthur’s illness and the facts about where Julian and the others really were—it had been decided it was better for Evelyn not to know. She wasn’t an ally; there was no reason she’d side with them, though she seemed patently uninterested in Council politics. In fact, most of the time she didn’t seem to be listening to them at all.

“According to Zara, Arthur’s been locked in his office with the door shut since we left,” said Diana.

“I would be too, if I had to put up with Zara,” said Dru.

“I still don’t see why Arthur didn’t come with you,” sniffed Evelyn. “He used to live in this Institute. You’d think he wouldn’t mind paying a visit.”

“Look on the bright side, Livvy,” Diana said. “When Julian and the others return from—from where they are—they’re most likely to go straight to Los Angeles. Would you want them to find an empty Institute?”

Livvy poked at her food and said nothing. She looked pale and drawn, purple shadows under her eyes. Kit had gone down the corridor the night after they’d arrived in London, wondering if she wanted to see him, but he’d heard her crying through her door when he put his hand on the knob. He’d turned around and left, a strange, pinching feeling in his chest. No one crying like that wanted anyone to come near them, especially not someone like him.

He got the same pinching feeling when he looked across the table at Ty and remembered how the other boy had healed his hand. How cool Ty’s skin had been against his. Ty was tense in his own way—the move to the London Institute had constituted a major disruption in his daily routine and it was clearly bothering him. He spent a lot of time in the training room, which was almost identical in layout to its Los Angeles counterpart. Sometimes when he was especially stressed, Livvy would take his hands in hers and rub them matter-of-factly. The pressure seemed to ground him. Still, at the moment Ty was tense and distracted, as if he’d folded in on himself somehow.

“We could go to Baker Street,” Kit said, without even knowing he was going to say it. “We are in London.”

Ty looked up at that, his gray eyes aglow. He had shoved his food away: Livvy had told Kit that Ty took a long time to warm up to new foods and new flavors. For the moment, he was almost solely eating potatoes. “To 221B Baker Street?”

“When everything with Malcolm is cleared up,” Diana interrupted. “No Blackthorns out of the Institute until then, and no Herondales, either. I didn’t like the way Malcolm glared at you, Kit.” She stood up. “I’ll be in the parlor. I need to send a fire-message.”

As the door closed behind her, Tavvy—who was staring at the air next to his chair in a way Kit found frankly alarming—giggled. They all turned to look in surprise. The youngest Blackthorn hadn’t been laughing much lately.

He supposed he didn’t blame the kid. Julian was all Tavvy had in the way of a father. Kit knew what missing your father was like, and he wasn’t seven years old.

“Jessie,” Evelyn scolded, and for a moment Kit actually looked around, as if the person she was addressing was in the room with them. “Leave the child alone. He doesn’t even know you.” She glanced around the table. “Everyone thinks they’re good with children. Few know when they are not.” She took a bite of carrot. “I am not,” she said, around the food. “I have never been able to stand children.”

Kit rolled his eyes. Tavvy looked at Evelyn as if he was considering throwing a plate at her.

“You might as well take Tavvy to bed, Dru,” said Livvy hastily. “I think we’re all done with dinner here.”

“Sure, why not? It’s not like I didn’t find clothes for him this morning or put him to bed last night. I might as well be a servant,” Dru snapped, then snatched Tavvy out of his chair and stalked out of the room, dragging her younger brother behind her.

Livvy put her head into her hands. Ty looked over at her and said, “You don’t have to take care of everyone, you know.”

Livvy sniffled and looked sideways at her twin. “It’s just—without Jules here, I’m the oldest. By a few minutes, anyway.”

“Diana’s the oldest,” said Ty. Nobody mentioned Evelyn, who had placed a pair of spectacles on her nose and was reading a newspaper.

“But she’s got so much more to do than look after us—I mean, look after the little things,” said Livvy. “I never really thought about it before, all the stuff Julian does for us, but it’s so much. He always holds it together and takes care of us and I don’t even get how—”

There was a sound like an explosion overhead. Ty’s face drained. It was clear he was hearing a noise he’d heard before.

“Livvy,” Ty said. “The Accords Hall—”

The noise sounded less like an explosion now, and more like thunder, a rushing thunder that was taking over the sky. A sound like clouds being ripped apart as if cloth were tearing.

Dru burst into the room, Tavvy just behind her. “It’s them,” she said. “You won’t believe it, but you have to come, quickly. I saw them flying—I went up to the roof—”

“Who?” Livvy was on her feet; they all were, except Evelyn, who was still reading the paper. “Who’s on the roof, Dru?”

Dru swept Tavvy up into her arms.

“Everyone,” she said, her eyes shining.