The Lost Book of the White

Liqin entered abruptly and sat herself down at the table with a kind of military discipline, and Tian interrupted his story to ask her how her training had gone. Alec noted with some surprise that when she responded, she did so in a definite Australian accent. And then Jem arrived, with Magnus.

The Shadowhunters sprang up from the table as one to greet them and check on Magnus, but Alec made sure he got there first. He grabbed Magnus around the waist and held him fast. “I didn’t even know you were awake,” he said in a low voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” Magnus said. “Otherwise fine.” He half-consciously brushed at his shirt, over his wound.

Alec kissed him, hard and fierce, as if to prove to himself that Magnus was okay. Magnus returned the kiss, and Alec could feel some tension leave his body as he did.

After a few seconds, Isabelle delivered a loud wolf whistle, and Alec pulled away, smiling in embarrassment. Magnus gave him a sympathetic look and a peck on the cheek. “That was lovely,” he said.

Alec hugged him a little tighter, and Magnus said again, “I’m all right.” But Magnus, Alec thought wryly, would always say he was all right.

“You’re not,” said Alec quietly. “You said Shinyun stabbed you again.”

Magnus sighed and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing that the wound was now a harsh X across his chest. There was a sharp intake of breath from the assembled Shadowhunters. Clary put her hand to her mouth; she looked surprisingly more alarmed than the others.

“I have even worse news,” said Magnus. “But I believe Tian was telling a story, and I hate to interrupt.”

Tian looked stunned. “No, please. This seems more urgent.”

“If she gets me a third time,” Magnus said, “I become Sammael’s servant.”

“Well,” said Alec, “then you are going straight into hiding right now. Or to the Spiral Labyrinth.”

“You’re safe here,” said Jem. “This house is very well-warded.”

“I can’t go into hiding,” Magnus went on doggedly, “because if I don’t get stabbed a third time, the thorn’s power will burn me from the inside out and I’ll die.”

There was a terrible silence. All Alec could hear was his own breathing, intense and unsteady in his ears. He saw Jace look at him with his eyes full of concern, but his own fear was too deep for even his parabatai’s reassurance to reach it.

“So what are we going to do?” said Simon. He sounded bleak.

“Defeat Sammael,” said Jace, his voice hard.

“Destroy the thorn,” suggested Isabelle.

Alec looked at them carefully, but they didn’t seem to be joking.

Magnus said, “I’m not sure how easy either of those things will be.”

Clary, with a mulish look, said, “I didn’t think you brought us here to do easy stuff.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Magnus said. He looked at Alec, who returned his gaze evenly. “We will,” he said again.

Alec’s further thoughts on the matter would have to wait, though, as through the door to the kitchen came Yun, carrying an enormous platter of food. Alec noted that she had put her giant spoon in a scabbard on her back, which seemed appropriate.

“None of you are sitting down!” she shouted, and they all hurried to return to the table. “Welcome!” she added to Magnus in the same shouting tone.

Magnus spoke to her in Mandarin, and she seemed to soften a bit. He had that effect on people. She responded in Mandarin at some length and then continued in English. “Jian says you are excellent people, and he is mostly a good judge of character, even if he is not a Shadowhunter anymore.” She winked at Jem and began setting plates out.

“Should we keep talking about Yanluo?” Simon said to Tian. Magnus violently shook his head no at Simon. “Or… not?” Simon added.

“It’s all right, Magnus.” Jem smiled faintly. “I have my own personal connection to Yanluo, that’s all.”

Tian began serving himself fried bean curd and vegetables from one of the plates. He gestured for the rest of them to join him. “Eat, before my grandmother starts to take offense,” he said. “I’m happy to help you with any of the dishes if you—”

But the Shadowhunters needed no further invitation and dug into the spread, which Alec noted was different from the Chinese food he was used to in New York, but had some definite similarities. The most familiar thing at the table were soup dumplings, which Tian’s reaction made clear were a sign Yun had pulled out all the stops for her guests. He had begun to explain how to eat them but quickly stopped once he realized that everyone at the table had grabbed spoons and were gently biting open the top of the dumpling to let the steam escape so they could drink the soup inside.

Simon grinned at Tian’s surprise. “Xiaolongbao, right?” he said. “It’s, like, the only Chinese I know. Oh! Also char siu bao. Most of my knowledge is bao-related.”

“Char siu is Cantonese,” snapped Yun over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.

“I didn’t intend any offense,” Simon said, looking mortified.

Jem rolled his eyes. “She isn’t taking offense. That’s just how she conveys useful information.”

“She trained me,” said Tian, “and a generation of Shadowhunters before me.”

“She’s terrifying,” said Magnus with sincere admiration.

“You should have seen her in her prime,” said Jem. “That was a different Shanghai, though. She has quite the pedigree—she’s Ke Yiwen’s youngest granddaughter.”

Magnus looked impressed. Isabelle interrupted herself from cutting half of the gigantic lion’s head meatball on Simon’s plate for herself. “Who’s that?”

“She’s the one who killed Yanluo,” Tian said through a mouthful of food. “Though Jem knows more about it than I do.”

Jem’s expression was somber and a little distant. Alec knew it well. It was the look Magnus got when he thought of something that had happened a long time ago whose memory still pained him. “A few years before Yanluo was killed, he invaded the Shanghai Institute, captured my parents and me, and tortured me in front of them. To pay them back.”

His voice was steady, but then, Jem had lived two lifetimes since then. Alec wasn’t surprised to see Magnus reach out and put a reassuring hand on Jem’s arm.

“Pay them back for what?” said Clary, her green eyes wide and full of concern.

Jem’s mother, Magnus explained, had destroyed a nest of Yanluo’s brood, and so Yanluo had sought revenge against her child. He told them about the demon drug yin fen, how Yanluo had injected Jem with it for days on end, so his body would be dependent on the drug and he would have to take it forever or die—only his becoming a Silent Brother had ended the addiction, and only heavenly fire, pouring through Jem as he held on to Jace while Jace burned with it, had cured it permanently.

“I remember that part,” Clary said grimly.

“I remember it a little,” Jace said. “That was kind of a weird time for me.”

“How strange. You’re never weird,” said Isabelle innocently.

“We still see yin fen around occasionally,” Tian said, “though nothing like it used to be in Uncle Jem’s time. Young werewolves bring it in from Macao or Hong Kong. The Downworlder community is pretty good at shutting it down, though; they know the dangers.”

“In Singapore,” Magnus put in, scratching at his wound without seeming to notice, “the Shadowhunters will just kill you on the spot if they catch you with it.”

“Isn’t that against the Accords?” Simon said incredulously. Magnus shrugged.

“At least I survived,” said Jem, picking the story back up, “unlike my parents. My mother’s sister, Yiwen, dedicated herself to revenge, and a few years later—I had gone to live at the London Institute, of course—she and my uncle Elias Carstairs tracked Yanluo down and killed him.” He nodded at the kitchen door, where Yun had disappeared. “Mother Yun is Yiwen’s youngest granddaughter, the only one still alive.” He smiled. “The second-oldest living Ke.”

Alec took another serving of red-cooked chicken and felt out of place. It was a feeling he still had, sometimes, when Magnus’s life before him, long before his birth, in fact, loomed into view. Magnus and Jem had so much shared history, their relationship was so long and complex—for a moment he felt a tinge of jealousy, and then stopped himself; obviously his relationship with Magnus was of a totally different kind than Jem’s, and it was silly of him to envy them their shared history.…

And then his mind flipped, and instead he thought about Jem, so young, terrified, screaming; about Jem’s parents, watching in helpless horror as their child was tortured in front of them for days. And he realized that the greater horror for him, now, was the parents’ horror: he could imagine withstanding his own torture, his own pain, but the idea of Max suffering, of his cries, of Alec’s helplessness… he shuddered and caught Magnus’s eye. Magnus was gazing at him with what Alec thought of as his cat’s gaze—heavily lidded, serious, enigmatic. He gave Magnus a smile, and Magnus gave him one back, although it was more wan than usual.

After dinner, Magnus disappeared abruptly, but Alec was stuck with his friends for a few minutes more. Liqin very shyly approached Clary to ask her advice on something; the conversation turned to training and weapons and runes, and Alec snuck away into the rapidly fading twilight of the house’s back patio, where he found Tian, Jem, Yun, and Magnus standing in a small circle, gazing up at the sky. Magnus’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest protectively, and Alec couldn’t tell why—the conversation was entirely in quiet, rapid Mandarin.

Magnus caught sight of him and beckoned him over. Alec slid in next to him and put his arm around Magnus’s shoulder; he was relieved to feel Magnus lean his weight against him, though he kept his arms crossed.