Peng Fang spoke to them in Russian; Alec couldn’t understand the words, but the tone was the same unctuous manner he always used, and his smile was wide as always. He ended with a question and looked back and forth between the ladies, who blinked at him.

“V’skorye,” he said, and closed the door. “Tasting room,” he said to Magnus, who smiled thinly. “Lovely ladies. Been coming to me for years. They’re looking to invest in blood futures.”

Alec cocked an eyebrow. “So… blood that’s still inside people?”

Peng Fang clapped Alec on the back and laughed heartily but didn’t explain further. He opened the STAFF ONLY door and gestured them inside.

Inside was a huge mahogany desk and a few wing-backed armchairs. In classic vampire style, the lights were very dim, but they had been carefully designed to glitter off the shelves of decanters and bottles that lined the back wall. Peng Fang went to them and began to elaborately select and pour himself a goblet of blood. Magnus dropped into one of the chairs facing the desk and stretched his legs out. Alec remained standing, arms crossed.

Peng Fang turned, holding his goblet. “Ganbei,” he said, and took a sip. Magnus and Alec remained silent, and Fang flashed them a toothy, red-stained smile. “What can I help my favorite customers with today?”

“Well, we’re looking into a few things right now,” Alec said. “The situation with Portals, for example. They’ve been going wrong all over Shanghai, it seems.”

Peng Fang took another sip. “That’s not exactly juicy gossip. They’ve been going wrong all over the world, sounds like. Why you two are investigating, I have no idea; the Conclave’s been all over trying to figure it out.”

“But you hear things,” said Magnus. “All over Downworld. Any interesting theories?”

“Oh, plenty blame the Shadowhunters, of course,” Fang said with a dismissive wave of his free hand. “Ever since the Cold Peace, they get blamed for everything. But that’s silly, of course. Portals are warlock magic. Let’s see. Some say the faeries have been sabotaging them.”

“I can’t imagine how they’d be able to do that,” Magnus said doubtfully.

“Neither can I,” agreed Peng Fang, “unless they’re in league with somebody very powerful. And I mean very powerful.”

“A Greater Demon?” said Alec.

“Greater than Greater,” said Fang, giving them another grin. “A Prince of Hell. The Prince of Hell.”

“Not—” began Magnus.

“No,” said Fang immediately. “Not him. But close. Sammael.”

Alec did his best not to react at all. “Sammael?” he said, chuckling. “Everyone knows Sammael is gone. Has been for—well, basically forever.”

“So he’s dead,” said Fang, though that hadn’t been exactly what Alec had said. “So am I, but that hasn’t stopped me running a successful international business concern, has it now? You know as well as I do that you can’t keep a Prince of Hell down forever. For a while, sure. For longer than I or even you,” he added, gesturing at Magnus, “have been around, definitely. But not forever. And Sammael is, after all, the Maker of the Way.”

“The what?” said Alec.

Fang looked impatient. “The Finder of Paths? The World-Burrower? The Render of Veils? Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Not at all,” Alec said.

Fang made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat and drained the rest of his drink. “What do they teach these Shadowhunters? Sammael, he’s the guy who opened the paths from the demon realms into this world in the first place. He weakened the wards of the world, or that’s what they say.” He reached down for the decanter and refilled his goblet. “So,” he went on, “when things go wrong with Portals, naturally people start talking about how Sammael is the source of it.”

“Do you believe that?” Magnus said.

Peng Fang smiled. “I don’t believe anything unless I get paid for it, Magnus Bane. I’ve found that to be a good way to keep my head on my shoulders and stakes out of my chest.”

“We’re also looking for a couple of warlocks,” Magnus said. “A Korean woman and a green fellow with horns.”

“Oh,” said Fang with a distinct change of mood. “Them.”

“You’ve seen them?” Alec said, trying not to sound too eager.

“Everyone’s seen them,” Fang said. He sounded grumpy. “They’ve been all over the Market for months. The woman for longer. Nobody likes them much, but they spend like sailors on leave, and they look like they’d kill you just as soon as look at you.”

“What have they been buying?” Magnus said.

“Now normally,” Fang said, running his finger around the rim of his goblet, “that kind of information would cost you.”

“I—”

“But the answer is so simple I can’t in good conscience charge you. What haven’t they been buying? Spell components, plain and fancy. Random antique spell books no one’s used in hundreds of years. Cheap blood in bulk.”

“Have they bought anything from you?” Magnus said.

“Well now,” Peng Fang said, a gleam in his eye, “that would cost you. But it doesn’t really matter. None of the really serious blood magic is accessible to them without some pretty powerful spells. As long as they don’t have the Book of the White or anything, we should all be fine.”

Alec wasn’t able to stop himself from looking over at Magnus. Realizing his mistake, he quickly schooled his features into a bland expression, but Peng Fang noticed immediately. “They don’t have it, do they? Right?” He sounded, for the first time, a little less self-assured.

“How should I know?” Magnus said with an impenetrable smile.

“Well, let’s hope for all our sakes they don’t,” Peng Fang said. He drained his cup again and began to fuss with pouring another. “I haven’t seen it myself, but people are saying that these warlocks have been bringing demons into the concession. That’s strictly prohibited, of course,” he added to Alec.

“Has it been reported to the Shadowhunters?” said Alec, already knowing the answer. “Since the relationship between the two is so good here and all.”

Peng Fang shrugged. “Nobody’s been hurt yet. And nobody wants a repeat of ’37.” Alec had no idea what this meant, but Magnus frowned. “Gentlemen, it’s glorious to see you as always, but I’m afraid that I must tend to my Russians.”

Alec was surprised by the abruptness, but Magnus got up immediately and nodded. “Thanks for your time, Peng Fang. We must be off too; we’ve got an appointment with Mogan.”

“The smiths?” Peng Fang sounded surprised. “Don’t take this one,” he advised Magnus, with a gesture in Alec’s direction. “Most fey don’t care for Shadowhunters these days.”

Magnus was rustling around in his pocket and produced a wad of bills from it. “Some yuan for your trouble.”

Peng Fang made a pronounced show of refusing the money. “Magnus, Magnus, we’ve been friends for so long. I haven’t told you anything worth a payment today. That’s how much good faith you can have in me. I’m not some two-bit crook like Johnny Rook.”

Magnus pressed the money into his hand anyway. Peng Fang tried to hug him again, and with a final no, Magnus headed down the spiral staircase, with Alec following. They retraced their steps back through the cellar and up the stone staircase into the stall.

The ground floor of the shop was dark, but they could still easily see the glass cabinets covered in Chinese labels and their contents. The amount of blood on hand was beginning to get to Alec, and he was happy to go out the front door and back onto the streets of the concession, where it was still a fine, sunny afternoon. “Who’s Johnny Rook again?” Alec muttered as they left.

Magnus shrugged. “Some two-bit crook.”

CHAPTER NINE The Celestial Palace

ALEC WAS SILENT ON THE way to the bookstore, and Magnus, for the first time in a couple of years, felt an odd feeling. He felt awkward about the meeting with Peng Fang.

“I really don’t know Peng Fang that well,” he said. “I’ve just bought information from him a few times over the years.”

Alec nodded, distracted.

“It’s just… I know there’s a lot of sketchy stuff in my past,” Magnus went on. What was wrong with him? “I don’t want you to worry that any of it will come back to… well…”

He trailed off, and Alec stopped walking and gave him a curious look. “What’s this about?” he said.

“When we were meeting with Peng Fang, I just started to think about how shady it all was, how shady a lot of the things I have to do are. I mean, Peng Fang is harmless, it’s just that I’m very big with weirdos. They all think I love them.”

Alec grinned affectionately. “It’s your devilish charisma,” he said. “You can’t help it.”

“Yeah, but some of the weirdos I know have turned out to be dangerous. And I know we don’t want to put Max in danger,” Magnus began, and Alec began to laugh. “What?” Magnus demanded.

“Magnus, I’m the one with the dangerous job,” Alec said. “I literally fight demons for a living. We’ve adopted Max into an incredibly dangerous family situation. I know that! I mean, forget the actual fighting, the monsters, the dark magic. I’m a gay Shadowhunter in a relationship with a famous Downworlder, who is himself the son of a Prince of Hell. My father is the Inquisitor and my parents were members of a hate group. My parabatai has been imprisoned in the Silent City. More than once!”

“When you put it like that,” Magnus murmured, “it doesn’t sound like a great home environment.”

“But it is,” said Alec with more force than Magnus would have expected. “I like our life, Magnus. I like that I don’t know what will happen next. I like that we get a chance to give Max the kind of life that warlocks rarely get. I like that we’ll be doing it together. You remember what the note said when we found Max? ‘Who could ever love it?’ We could, Magnus. We could love him. We do love him.”