The Lost Book of the White

“Tell her about the Alliance,” Alec said, nudging Magnus.

“My boyfriend wants me to tell you that he founded the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance,” Magnus said, and batted his eyelashes at Alec. “If you know what that is.”

Jinfeng gave a wry smile. “In Shanghai, Tian and I are the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance.”

“I thought you said your family approved,” Magnus said to Tian.

Tian looked sheepish. “They do,” he said, “but that’s not the same as allowing us to be public. Much less get married. You must know that I—and they—could get in serious trouble. The Cold Peace forbids even business relationships between the fey and the Nephilim, much less—”

“Sexy business,” Magnus agreed.

The rest of their party were standing around politely but beginning to look a little uncomfortable. Simon was checking his phone.

Tian took note and said to Jinfeng, “Qin’ai de, I was hoping to talk to your parents. These Nephilim have run into a strange weapon recently and we thought they might know about it. Maybe I could talk to them?”

“You can go on,” Magnus said to Tian, in English for the benefit of the others. “I’ve been to the Sunlit Market enough times that I’m sure I can get the rest of us there.”

Tian nodded; he was already scribbling an address down on a scrap of paper from his pocket. “I’m going to go with Jinfeng. Meet us here in two hours, and hopefully Mogan will be willing to talk.”

“Who’s Mogan?” said Magnus.

Tian smiled. “The smiths. Mo and Gan. Mogan.”

“Faeries,” Magnus said with a sigh.

He took the paper, and Jinfeng and Tian disappeared down a side street, fairly quickly.

“He seemed pretty happy to get away from us,” Isabelle observed as they left.

“Young love,” said Magnus. “I’m sure you’d have no idea.” He grinned at Isabelle, and she grinned back. “We’ll catch up with them later. For now, let’s head to the Market.”

“We have a very annoying blood sommelier to meet with,” Alec agreed.

“And a bookstore,” Clary put in eagerly. “Do not forget the bookstore.”

* * *

NOW THAT TIAN WAS GONE, they were dependent on Magnus to navigate, which was fine as far as Alec was concerned. Tian was friendly, and knowing he was also dealing with the complexities of a Shadowhunter-Downworlder relationship made him more sympathetic, but he had felt a little babysat. He knew Shadow Markets; he knew Downworlders. He knew Peng Fang. It was a matter of pride, a bit, that they could handle this errand on their own.

As a guide, of course, Magnus was a bit more hesitant than Tian had been. “You’re sure you know where you’re going?” said Alec a few times, as Magnus considered two possible paths.

“This way seems familiar,” Magnus would say, and stride off in that direction. The others put their confidence totally in the warlock, which made Alec feel like it would be disloyal to raise doubts.

They found themselves, after a few twists and turns, in a dark and narrow alley. Unlike the rest of the concession, which was well-kept, clean, and bright in the sunny late morning, this place felt decrepit, like it was rotting away around them, and it was cast in shadow from the surrounding buildings. The pleasant smells of food and autumn flowers were gone, replaced by a humid, fetid odor, not like the crush of people in a city but like a place long abandoned by anything living.

All of them could sense that something was off. Jace and Clary each drew the one seraph blade apiece they had brought, and Simon stood at the back of the alley, vigilantly scanning all around him. Isabelle stood by him, looking less worried but no less alert.

Alec had his hand on his own seraph blade, though he hadn’t yet drawn it. “I think maybe we took a wrong turn,” he began to say, but choked on the words as he looked over at Magnus.

Magnus was glowing, an angry scarlet flare around him in the gloom of the alley. His upper lip was curled back from his teeth, and his head was in the air, like an animal sniffing the air for predators. Or prey. His eyes, too, shone in the dark, yellow-green and alien in a way Alec had never thought of them. They were glassy and unfocused—he looked like he was listening to something far away, something none of the rest of them could hear. And it must have been the illusion of the strange light filtered down through the buildings, but he seemed taller, sharper.

“Magnus?” Alec said quietly, but Magnus didn’t seem to hear him. There was a skittering noise from behind and above him, but when he whirled around, there was nothing there.

The Shadowhunters made their way down the alley carefully. Jace and Isabelle reached the far end first and waited as Clary led Simon, who looked like a cat with its hackles raised, slowly down the lane, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Alec waited for Magnus to follow, but he seemed to be stuck in place. His hair was wild and his breathing strenuous, as if he’d been running. Alec gently took him by the hand, and Magnus let him, though when his eyes rolled toward Alec, there was no recognition in them.

Alec felt a jolt of fear through him. Magnus was never distracted, never confused. It was one of the things he loved best about his boyfriend: he knew that if Magnus was forced to walk into Hell itself, he would do so with his hair perfect, his clothes pressed, his eye game on point.

And he had to admit that even now, Magnus looked good. His expression may have been hungry and hollow, but it brought out his cheekbones, and Alec for just a moment wondered what it would be like to kiss him while looking into eyes lambent with green and gold. It was a strange combination, this feeling of fear and desire.

He forced himself to walk forward, leading Magnus by the hand. Magnus allowed himself to be led; he seemed to barely notice. Alec held his breath, sure they would be attacked at any moment, but at the end of the alley was another archway, and once all six of them were through it, the sun again shone down and the air was fine and calm. Between one moment and the next, all the peculiarity went out of Magnus and he was again himself. He looked surprised as Alec threw his arms around him, hugging him tight.

“Everybody okay?” said Clary.

“Sure,” said Simon, though his voice remained shaky. “Nothing happened, right?”

They all looked to Magnus—of course they did, Alec thought. Even with all their experience, they expected Magnus to have the answers to any mystery. He shook his head, looking grave. “I don’t know,” he said. “We were walking, and then… there were those voices.…”

Isabelle and Clary exchanged worried looks. “We didn’t hear any voices,” Isabelle said.

“What were they saying?” asked Alec quietly.

Magnus looked at Alec helplessly. “I… I don’t remember.”

“You’d think the Downworlders would do something about having an alley from Hell right through the middle of their neighborhood,” said Jace.

Magnus shook his head. “I don’t know where we were,” he said, “but that was definitely not Shanghai.”

* * *

MAGNUS HAD NOT BEEN LYING. He didn’t remember what had happened, and he didn’t remember what the voices had been saying or whether he recognized who had been speaking. What he didn’t say was what he did remember: how powerful he had felt, how strong. Like the rest of them, he had been sure they would be attacked, but he had felt only a contempt for the forces that might attack them, as though he might wipe them away with a wave of his hand. Now he felt a strange emptiness, both relieved and disappointed that his feeling hadn’t been tested.

He was the navigator, however, and he tried to put all these feelings aside and concentrate on remembering where they were going. He had been here before, but it had been eighty-some years ago—still, he was able to follow the noise, and soon they were passing more Downworlders, all heading in roughly the same direction. Groups of young werewolves, pairs of older vampires huddled under large black umbrellas, and a few faeries, who gave the Shadowhunters worried looks and crossed the street to avoid passing them.

Alec took note. “I don’t much like being looked at like the enemy here,” he said. “We’re all on the same side, Shadowhunters and Downworlders.”

Jace quirked an eyebrow. “I believe the Clave’s official position is that we are on opposite sides.”

“It’s ridiculous,” said Clary. “How many faeries were actually on Sebastian’s side in the war? The Queen, her court—it must be a tiny percentage of them. But we’ve punished them all.”

“The Clave punished them all,” said Simon. “We haven’t done anything. We tried to prevent the Cold Peace.”

“As long as we can explain that to each of them individually, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” said Jace.

“Maybe we could get T-shirts made,” Simon agreed. “ ‘We Tried to Prevent the Cold Peace.’ ”

Magnus gestured toward another stone archway. “Through here, I think.”

“Our luck with random archways hasn’t been great,” muttered Isabelle. But they went through anyway, and after a brief moment of eerie radiance that caused them all to catch their breath, the passage shimmered and expanded, and suddenly a tall faerie with a sideways grin and a long brocade jacket was trying to sell them wolfsbane cologne.

The Market square was huge and open, paved with massive slabs of stone. Shadow Markets were usually twisty, labyrinthine affairs, full of makeshift stalls and tents, everyone jockeying for customers’ attention and shouting over one another. But the Sunlit Market of Shanghai was an altogether more civilized affair, with stalls and sheds neatly lined up in wide rows, shaded by Shanghai’s ubiquitous plane trees. Cafés had outdoor terraces with neatly kept tables, and at the center was a huge fountain with a stone figure at each of the corners. From here Magnus could see a dragon and a bird that looked like Jinfeng, and if he remembered correctly, there were a tiger and a tortoise on the other side. The fountain sprayed in colors: red, yellow, and green, and while the water shot many feet into the air, it all remained precisely within the perimeter of the stone pool. Magnus noted with some interest that he could see the aura of the magic responsible for this, a silver glow that, he thought, would usually have been invisible to him.