“This conversation is a real roller coaster,” said Isabelle, sticking her head out of the back window of the second taxi, “but my Mandarin is nonexistent, and Jace’s is really poor, and this taxi driver has started the meter.”

“No,” said Magnus. “It’s just—finding Ragnor is better than having no leads, but it’s absolutely backward from how I would want to do this. I don’t want to go through him to get the Book. I don’t even want to go through Shinyun.”

“They’re the only leads we have, my love,” Alec said, “so I think we’re getting in the cabs.”

“Okay,” said Magnus. He kissed Alec. “Let’s go.”

They both got into the back of the first cab, joining only Simon, who had the map open on his phone and gave a thumbs-up, though his expression was distant. Magnus turned to Alec. “Okay, so what direction?”

Alec gripped the scrap of cloth. “Still west.”

Magnus leaned forward and spoke to the driver in Mandarin, pointing in a direction. The driver seemed surprised but, after a brief negotiation, acquiesced. “Just tell me when we should turn,” Magnus said, and Alec nodded, and the taxis took off into the night.

* * *

THE LAST TIME MAGNUS HAD been in Shanghai was twenty years ago. It had been only months into the rebirth of the city, its sudden strange second life, in which it would become the biggest city in China, flooded with money and new growth. Even now there were new skyscrapers going up, new shining lights wherever Magnus looked. It was still itself, it was still Shanghai. But it had changed so much, in such a short time.

They made their way out of the center of the city, leaving the fancy lights of Nanjing Road behind. They made their way through the lively district of Jing’an, until they were in the vast residential blocks that rolled away forever into the distance, new high-rises and a few garden apartment complexes. Another few turns and they were entering an older neighborhood, a place left over from the Shanghai that the international luxury brands and skyscrapers were busily replacing with a bright sheen of modernity.

While they rode, Magnus tried to explain the unusual Downworlder situation in Shanghai. “Back in the nineteenth century,” he said, “Shanghai was divided into a bunch of international concessions—land that was leased to other countries, within the city. Britain had one, France, the United States. They were still officially part of China, but the other countries could kind of do whatever they wanted within the concession borders. When that happened, the Downworlders of Shanghai struck their own deal, and were given their own concession.”

“What?” said Alec, turning to look at Magnus. “There’s a permanent Downworlder-run neighborhood here?”

“There are a few Sighted mundanes living there as well, probably,” said Magnus. “But yes.”

“If they have a permanent neighborhood, does that mean there’s no Shadow Market in Shanghai?”

Magnus laughed. “Oh, there’s a Shadow Market all right.”

Quickly the streets became too narrow for the taxis, and Magnus and the others abandoned them to continue on foot. Simon looked oddly pale, although not in the vampire way he once had.

“Shadowhunters don’t get carsick,” Jace was saying.

“Did your dad teach you that?” Simon said, wobbling slightly from foot to foot. “Was he ever in a car in his life? Was he ever in a car in Shanghai in his life?”

Clary and Isabelle exchanged looks. “You all right, Simon?” said Clary.

“Hey, they who don’t do well in stop-and-go traffic also serve the Angel,” Alec called over. “Can we go?”

Sometimes Magnus wasn’t sure being a Shadowhunter was better for Simon than being a vampire had been. He was no longer undead; that was definitely good, of course. But there was a certain blood-and-thunder machismo that could creep in uncomfortably around the edges of Shadowhunter culture. Valentine had wielded that narrative of inborn strength, of supremacy, like a weapon. It was an attitude that always threatened to resurface among the Nephilim. Bending and twisting himself to fit inside it had nearly broken Jace. If it hadn’t been for Alec, Isabelle, and Clary…

The Tracking rune had led them into one of the remaining pockets of old Shanghai, from before the wide boulevards and the shining silver malls. They had to walk in single file to avoid blocking the way for pedestrians and cyclists. And it was still crowded here, too, everywhere a flow of people, bicycles, animals, like a rushing river, in a way that reminded Magnus of a dozen cities he’d been to that were always the same and yet always new. Shanghai, Singapore, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Jakarta, Tokyo, New York…

Magnus hadn’t told anyone yet, but he felt something within the glowing crack in his chest, a swelling node of magic. Not evil magic, he thought. Not even alien magic. His own magic, pooling within him. It was creating a kind of aura at the edges of his vision, bright blue and sparkling. The aura seemed to pull and bend in response to other auras that Magnus wasn’t otherwise aware of.

He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. He guessed they would find Ragnor, then through Ragnor find Shinyun, and hopefully she would explain the phenomenon to him. Or he hoped it could wait until they could do some research tomorrow.

Clary was examining a series of signs covered in felt-tip handwriting, tacked up to the windows of a closed storefront. Magnus gestured above them. “It’s a hair salon. That’s just their menu.”

“Isabelle,” Simon stage-whispered. “Can we take home one of the chickens?”

“Yes,” said Isabelle. “You can take home as many as you can catch.”

“Don’t encourage him,” said Clary. To Magnus she said, “Is this the kind of place Ragnor would be?”

Magnus looked around at the narrow lanes, the concrete walls tacked with notices and ads and stenciled graffiti; he could smell animals and food and garbage and people living too close together, everything unchanged for decades in a place that seemed to be transforming itself hourly. “This is not really where Ragnor would live,” he said slowly. “But it is exactly where Ragnor would hide.”

“Unless he knows we’re coming,” said Jace.

“If he knows we’re coming,” said Magnus, “why would he stay in Shanghai at all? He’s an expert in dimensional magic. He could Portal anywhere. He could go to the Spiral Labyrinth and hide, if he wanted to. They don’t know he’s being… controlled, or whatever it is.”

“But the Tracking rune makes it clear he is still in Shanghai,” said Alec. “So he doesn’t know we’re coming.”

“Or,” said Jace, “he wants to be found.”

Magnus hadn’t thought of that, but he agreed it was a possibility. Being in thrall to Sammael and being friendly toward Magnus were not necessarily incompatible, at least not in the mind of Shinyun, and maybe not in the mind of Ragnor, either.

On the other hand, did Ragnor expect him to arrive with five Shadowhunters? One, sure, but five?

He was getting jumpy. His wound tickled.

The Tracking rune led them to a shabby white apartment building. Spiky black graffiti was splashed across one side, over the peeling paint. Alec in the lead, they went in, following him up two flights of stairs to a dingy apartment door in a dingy carpeted hallway. Magnus was about to knock, but then hesitated.

Alec gave him a look and banged on the door for him. After a moment, it opened, revealing a bald, bearded, goat-legged faerie gentleman who gawked in openmouthed horror at discovering an entire squad of Shadowhunters at his door.

“You can’t come in!” he yelped in Shanghainese, much louder than Magnus would have expected.

“They don’t speak any Chinese,” said Magnus politely in Mandarin. “English, if you please. It’s not like it’s any effort for a faerie.”

The faerie didn’t take his wide eyes off the Shadowhunters. “You can’t come in!” he said in English.

“Hi,” said Alec. “We actually don’t have any business with you at all, and we’re sorry to bother you. We—”

“You’ll never find anything!” the faerie shrieked. “My hands are clean, do you hear me? Clean!”

“I’m sure they are,” said Alec. “We’re looking for a warlock. He’s very easy to recognize. He’s green—”

“All right,” said the faerie. He leaned closer. “If I confess to some of what I’ve done, will you give me leniency? I can help you take down some big names. Big names.”

“Do tell,” said Jace.

Alec gave Jace a dark look. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. “If you could tell us whether you’ve seen our friend? We think he might have gone into your apartment.”

“We’re not interested in big names,” put in Magnus.

Jace piped up, “We’re a little interested, right?”

“I can give you Lenny the Squid,” said the faerie fervently. “I can give you Bobby Two-Legs. I can give you Socks MacPherson.”

Alec rubbed his face with his hands, and Magnus restrained a smile. Truly, his boyfriend’s patience and professionalism was a beautiful thing to behold.

“Let’s take a step back,” Alec said. “Have you ever heard of a warlock named Ragnor Fell?”

The faerie stopped and squinted suspiciously at Alec, as though trying to perceive a trick. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions.”

“Have we considered the ‘bad cop’ option?” Jace said, a light growl in his voice. “I’m feeling better and better about it.”

“Fine,” said the faerie. “I’ve never heard of anyone by that name.”

“Hang on a moment,” Alec said, turning to the group. “Can we give this guy some space, actually? He’s scared to death. If five faeries came unannounced to your door, you’d be pretty freaked-out too.”