“My parabatai doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said, in a gentler tone.

“Oh,” Aline returned, her voice flat.

Alec had spent so long with a desperate, impossible crush on Jace. He had thought it was a secret: now he knew everyone had always known, especially Jace. Jace had never minded. He had understood Alec needed to have a crush on someone who was safe. On a boy who if Alec said, “I like you,” to him, would not have punched Alec in the face or dragged him in front of the Clave. People could be horrendously, violently awful about anyone who was different.

That crush was a memory now. It had seemed part of his overall love for Jace once, the love that made them parabatai, but now it seemed more like the passing touch of light on metal. The gleam was gone, but the gold of friendship remained, pure and true.

There were worse people to have a crush on than Jace Herondale. He would never be cruel to Aline about it. But he loved Clary—in a way that had stunned Alec, who had never imagined Jace in love like that—and that wasn’t going to change.

“Be nice to Helen Blackthorn,” Alec said urgently. “You don’t have to like her, but don’t treat her differently from any other Shadowhunter.”

Aline blinked. “I wasn’t planning on it. Of course she’s . . . a colleague. I will treat her in a professional fashion. That was my plan for how to treat her. With a calm professionalism.”

“Good,” said Alec.

“Do you have her phone number?” Aline asked. “In case we get separated, or something?”

“I don’t,” said Alec.

In the weapons room, Helen came toward them, her arms full of seraph blades, her fair hair curling around her ears. Aline made a sighing sound.

“We were going to check out demonic activity,” said Alec to Aline, “in the records room. We never did that.”

Aline began taking seraph blades out of Helen’s arms and stowing them on her person. “Wouldn’t you rather take action than look up records? If this is a dead end, we can always look at the records later.”

Through the wide windows set over Rome, Alec could see the sun begin its descent. The city was still gold, but the very tops of the buildings were now crowned with red. “That makes sense,” he said. He took a couple of seraph blades for himself.

Helen grinned an eager grin. “Let’s go hunting.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

* * *

Aqua Morte

MAGNUS WAS ALONE FOR TEN minutes, during which he lolled around and thought of Alec. Then there came a knock on the door.

Magnus brightened. “Come in!”

He was severely disappointed. It was not Alec, deciding he should stay after all. It was Shinyun.

“I’ve been in touch with a contact,” she said without preamble. “I’m meeting her at a Downworlder bathhouse soon. . . .” She stopped and looked around with a surprised air. “Where’s Alec?”

“He’s gone to find out whatever he can at the Rome Institute.” Magnus decided no further explanation was necessary.

“Ah, yes. Well, if you’re bored here alone, you could always come with me to my appointment in the Roman baths,” said Shinyun. “My contact won’t talk in front of you, but if she has information and you’re nearby, we could act on it immediately. Your presence in a place like that wouldn’t be questioned. Alec’s would be.”

Magnus considered her offer. On the one hand, he’d told Alec he would stay here. On the other, acting on information immediately might get them closer to being done with this whole sorry business. Magnus took a moment to imagine resolving the cult situation on his own, being able to go to Alec and tell him that it was all over, that Alec could relax.

“I do love the Roman baths,” Magnus said. “Why not?”

They walked toward the Aqua Morte bathhouse, in the historic center of Rome, along the golden waters of the Tiber. Magnus had forgotten how much more gold Rome was than any other city, like treasure brought home from a conquest.

“Go back to where you came from,” muttered a man in Italian, glancing from Magnus’s Indonesian to Shinyun’s Korean face. He moved to shove past them, but Shinyun held up a hand. The man froze.

“I’ve always wondered what that saying is about,” Magnus said casually. “I wasn’t born in Italy, but many people are who don’t fit your idea of what people born here look like. Is it that you think their parents weren’t from here, or their grandparents? Why do people say it? Is the idea that everyone should go back to the very first place their ancestors came from?”

Shinyun stepped up to the man, who remained fixed in place, his eyeballs twitching.

“Wouldn’t that mean,” Magnus asked, “that ultimately, we all have to go back to the water?”

Shinyun flicked a finger, and the man was flung with a brief squeak into the Tiber. Magnus made sure he fell without injury and drifted him to the riverside. The man climbed out and sat down on the bank with a squelch. Magnus hoped he would think about his choices.

“I was only going to make him think I would drop him in the water,” Magnus clarified. “I understand the impulse, but just making him afraid of us . . .” He trailed off and sighed. “Fear isn’t a very efficient motivator.”