Shinyun had the grace to look a little embarrassed as they went back from the restaurant to the lobby. Magnus arranged for the hotel to call a water taxi for them. By the time it arrived to pick them up, Shinyun and Alec were back to swapping demon murder tips.

The secret of Venice is that its streets are an unknowable maze, but its canals make a strange kind of sense. Rather than navigating the alleys of a city with no posted street signs of any kind, their water taxi was able to let them off within sight of the palazzo that was their destination.

That palazzo’s golden walls were festooned with white marble pillars and arches, decorated in scarlet stucco. The windows of what was referred to elsewhere as the ground floor, and in Venice was called the “water floor,” were unusually large, risking flooding for beauty. The glass reflected the canal waters, turning moody turquoise into shining jade.

Magnus could not imagine setting up a cult, but if he were going to, he could easily envision himself choosing this building for it.

“It’s your kind of place,” said Alec.

“It’s amazing,” said Magnus.

“What I mostly notice about it, though,” said Alec, “is all the people going in and out of it. Didn’t your friend Tessa say it was abandoned?”

Venice was always crowded with people, turning the streets into as much living motion as the canals, but Alec was right. There was a steady stream of people passing through the double front doors of the palazzo.

“What if the Crimson Hand is still operating here?” Alec asked.

Shinyun’s voice was eager. “Then that makes our job easier.”

“These are obviously not cultists,” said Magnus. “Look how bored they are.”

Indeed, the men and women going in and out of the palazzo seemed like they were just going about their jobs. They carried piles of cloth, or cardboard boxes, or stacks of chairs. Someone in chef’s whites came through with a stack of chafing dishes covered in aluminum foil. No robes, no masks, no vials of blood, no live animals for sacrifice. Some of them were Downworlders, Magnus could see.

He headed for the most Downworldly he could find, a green-skinned dryad standing just next to the front doors, talking intensely to a satyr who was holding a clipboard.

As he approached, the dryad started. “Wow—are you Magnus Bane?”

“Do I know you?” said Magnus.

“No, but you definitely could,” the dryad said, blowing Magnus a kiss.

Alec coughed loudly from behind Magnus.

“I’m flattered, but as you can hear, I’m spoken for. Well, coughed for.”

“Pity,” said the dryad. He tapped the satyr on the chest. “This is Magnus Bane!”

Without looking up from the clipboard, the satyr said, “Magnus Bane isn’t invited to the party. Because he’s dating a Shadowhunter, I heard.”

The dryad gave them an apologetic look. “Ix-nay on the Adowhunter-shay,” he stage-whispered to the satyr. “The Adowhunter-shay is right there and he can ear-hay ou-yay!”

“Yeah, I’ve also cracked your secret code language,” Alec said dryly.

Magnus looked hurt and turned to his companions. “I can’t believe I’m not invited to the party. I’m Magnus Bane! Even these guys know it.”

“What party?” said Shinyun.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus went on, “let me get a hold of myself. A party where Alec isn’t welcome isn’t a party I’d want to attend.”

“Magnus, what party?” said Shinyun.

“I think Shinyun finds it unusual,” said Alec very slowly to Magnus, “that there’s a party, with Downworlders, being thrown in the Crimson Hand’s former headquarters.”

“You,” said Shinyun to the dryad, in a commanding tone. “What did he say about a party?”

The dryad looked puzzled, but he answered readily enough. “The masked ball tonight, to celebrate Valentine Morgenstern’s defeat in the Mortal War. This huge place just turned up on the market, and a warlock rented it out for a big bash. People from all over the Shadow World are attending. A whole bunch of us came down by train from Paris.” He puffed his chest out, cheeks emerald with pride. “You know, if the Downworlders hadn’t banded together to defeat him, the whole world would have been endangered.”

“The Shadowhunters were involved,” said Alec.

The dryad flapped a hand, leaves fluttering at his wrist. “I heard they helped.”

“So a lot of people are coming to this fete?” Magnus asked. “I was hoping to meet up with a warlock friend of mine. His name is Mori Shu. Is he on the list?”

Behind him, Magnus heard Shinyun draw in a quick breath.

The satyr flipped through his papers. “Yes, here he is. Someone told me he might not make it, though, something about him laying low recently. Some demon thing.”

“You are, of course, completely invited,” said the dryad to Magnus. “You and your companions. It was an oversight that you weren’t on the guest list already.”

The satyr took this in and dutifully flipped to the end of his list to write in Magnus’s name.

“I am very offended to have been excluded from the invitations, and therefore I, and my companions, will definitely be attending,” said Magnus loftily.

The dryad took a moment to comprehend, then nodded. “Doors will open at eight.”