“She threatened me with a candelabra once, but we don’t really chat,” said Raphael. “Which means we have my ideal relationship.” He gave Alec a cold glare. “It’s the relationship I wish I had with all Shadowhunters.”

Alec was about to give up and walk away, when a pretty vampire woman in a cheongsam came flying down the hallway, ribbons waving from her purple-streaked hair like a silken flag. Her face was familiar. Alec had seen her at Taki’s, and around the city more generally, usually with Raphael.

“Save us, oh fearless leader,” said Raphael’s lady friend. “Elliott’s in a huge aquarium puking blue and green. He tried to drink mermaid blood. He tried to drink selkie blood. He tried to—”

“Ahem,” said Raphael, with a savage jerk of his head in Alec’s direction.

Alec waved. “Shadowhunter,” he said. “Right here. Hi.”

“He tried to keep to the Accords and obey all the known Laws!” the woman declared. “Because that’s the New York clan’s idea of a truly festive good time.”

Alec remembered Magnus and tried not to look like he was here to ruin the Downworlder party. There was one thing he and this woman had in common. He recognized the bright purple she was wearing.

“I think I saw you earlier,” said Alec hesitantly. “You were—making out with a faerie girl?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that,” said the vampire woman. “This is a party. I’ve made out with six faerie girls, four faerie boys, and a talking toadstool whose gender I’m unsure about. Pretty sexy for a toadstool, though.”

Raphael covered his face briefly with his non-texting hand.

“Why, you want to make something of it?” The woman bristled. “How happy I am to see the Nephilim constantly crashing our parties. Were you even invited?”

“I’m a plus-one,” said Alec.

The vampire girl relaxed slightly. “Oh, right, you’re Magnus’s latest disaster,” she said. “That’s what Raphael calls you. I’m Lily.”

She lifted a hand in a halfhearted wave. Alec glanced at Raphael, who arched his eyebrow at Alec in an unfriendly way.

“Didn’t realize Raphael and I were on pet name terms,” said Alec. He continued to study Raphael. “Do you know Magnus well?”

“Hardly at all,” said Raphael. “Barely acquainted. I don’t think much of his personality. Or his dress sense. Or the company he keeps. Come away, Lily. Alexander, I hope I never see you again.”

“I’ve decided I detest you,” Lily told Alec.

“It’s mutual,” Alec said dryly.

Unexpectedly, that made the vampire woman smile, before Raphael dragged her away.

Alec was almost sorry to see them go. They were a piece of New York, even if they were vampires and, for some reason, incredibly hostile toward him in particular. Alec had never met anyone worse at parties than he was before.

He could not give up his search yet. He made his way downward, searching for the basement, and found a bowling alley that had been turned into an impromptu dueling venue. Next to it was a theater that he could only describe as a Roman toga orgy room. At the far end was a swimming pool that had been changed into a massive bubble-bath party. It was all very overwhelming and uncomfortable. There were still no stone goats in sight.

He entered a side door and found himself alone in a lighted passageway leading to what looked like a cellar. The noise from the party was dampened by the thick stone walls. Alec proceeded down the corridor and descended a set of stairs, noting the thick layer of dust on just about everything that conveniently betrayed footprints on the steps. Someone had been here recently.

The lower level opened to a roughly cut stone cellar filled with racks of wooden barrels on one side, and stacks of food stores on the other. This place would make the perfect entrance to a secret lair if there ever were one. He began to probe the caskets, checking for a false bottom or a hidden latch or anything out of the ordinary. He was halfway along the wall when he heard it: distant voices and the sound of scraping. Alec went still. He cocked his head to the side and listened with his rune-enhanced hearing.

“These used to be the Crimson Hand’s headquarters,” said a man’s French-accented voice. “But I’ve seen no sign of cult activity and every sign of a seriously amazing party. I even heard Magnus Bane was here.”

“And yet, we still have to search the whole building,” said a woman in return. “Imagine that.”

Alec drew a seraph blade as he crept toward the voices, though he didn’t activate it. At the end of the wall, a short hallway extended that opened to a wine cellar. On the walls were floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with bottles. There was a blinding white light emanating from a point on one of the shelves, illuminating the room. Standing in front of it were two silhouettes studying what appeared to be a small statue of Bacchus. Alec could make out a woman’s side profile, and the curve of one faerie ear.

He couldn’t get a good view of their faces in the harsh light, so he continued creeping forward, one soft step at a time. No Downworlder could hear a Shadowhunter coming, if the Shadowhunter didn’t want them to.

A dagger flew through the air, just missing the sleeve of Alec’s black coat.

Maybe some Downworlders could hear a Shadowhunter coming.