Helen took the lead, and Alec lengthened his stride to keep up with her. His sneakers were sliding in the mud too, but nobody had offered him bark shoes. Helen’s footstep was lighter than his or Aline’s. She did not move exactly like a faerie. Alec had seen them walk without crushing a blade of grass. Yet she wasn’t sliding in the mud like they were either. Under the movements of a warrior was the shadow of faerie grace.

“The bark shoes aren’t a faerie trick, if that’s what you two are thinking,” Helen snapped at Alec as he drew level with her. “I learned it from Shadowhunters in Brazil.”

Alec blinked. “Why would we be thinking that? Look, I’m sorry if Aline is being weird. It’s my fault. I told her about what happened on the night of the party in Venice—I mean, how I first saw you with the Downworlder girl.”

Helen snorted. “Don’t you mean the other Downworlder girl?”

“No,” said Alec. “You’re a Shadowhunter. I’m really sorry. I was worried about Magnus, and I’m bad at lying. There was a time I would have hated if anyone told a stranger about me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Helen. “It’s not a secret that I like girls as well as boys. Too bad if it bothers Aline.” She sneaked a look at Aline over her shoulder, then shrugged. “Pity. That girl is hot like hellfire.”

Alec ducked his head and smiled. He was a bit surprised, but it was nice to talk with Helen about this, to see how calm and fearless she was.

“Probably,” he said. “I wouldn’t know.” He added shyly, “I think my boyfriend’s pretty hot, though.”

“Sure, I saw him,” said Helen. “I see why you lost your head. I just don’t trust him.”

“Because he’s a Downworlder?” Alec’s voice was hard.

“Because I have to be more objective when assessing Downworlders than anyone else does,” said Helen.

Alec looked over at her, the curve of her ears and the faint luminous sheen to her skin beneath her Shadowhunter runes. Against the backdrop of a forest, Helen looked even more like a faerie.

“You sure you’re being objective?”

“I think Magnus Bane founded this cult,” said Helen. “Which makes him the obvious suspect for their leader. From everything people say, this leader is a powerful warlock. There are maybe a dozen warlocks in the world who fit the bill. How many of them were at the party?”

“Malcolm Fade,” said Alec.

Helen snapped, “It wasn’t Malcolm!”

“It wasn’t the warlock you trust,” said Alec. “I see. How about Barnabas Hale?”

Helen came to a halt, right there in the sliding mud and gathering dark.

“He was there?” she asked. “He wasn’t on the guest list.”

“He crashed the party,” said Alec. “So hard the mansion fell down.”

“I knew Malcolm fought with another warlock,” Helen murmured. “I was so busy trying to get people out, I didn’t see the fight. I figured it must have been Magnus Bane.”

So there was another reason Helen was so down on Magnus. She’d wanted to protect Malcolm, her own local High Warlock.

“It wasn’t Magnus,” said Alec. “He got in the middle to stop the fight. He tried to get people out. Just like you did.”

Helen took a moment to absorb this. Alec was glad to see she didn’t know everything, and even more glad she seemed to be willing to consider taking this new idea to heart. Maybe, with Helen and Aline to help him, they could inquire discreetly about Barnabas among the Shadowhunters.

“I don’t know any of those warlocks,” Aline announced. “But I think this might be the meeting place.”

She pointed at a small clearing a few steps away from the path.

It did not take a Shadowhunter to tell that the area was being used for occult activity. The burned-in pentagram in the dirt at their feet was a dead giveaway, but there was more. There was a makeshift altar with two fire pits on either side and several slashes on the trees nearby that were reminiscent of claw marks. There was also a deep circular indentation pressed into the dirt. Helen walked to the edge of the clearing and checked in the bushes. She pulled out a beer keg and rolled it across the grass.

“Whoa,” said Aline. “The evil cultists like to party?”

“Partying hard is one of their sacred rules,” said Alec. Helen gave him a puzzled look and he explained, “The Red Scrolls of Magic. It’s their sacred text. I’ll, uh, loan you my copy.”

He passed the phone, with the pictures Isabelle had sent, over to Aline, who then passed it to Helen without Alec’s permission.

Helen frowned. “The last commandment is not to let children be alone,” she said. “That sounds . . . strangely nice. For a cult.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” Alec asked blandly.

Everything about Magnus was strange, but nice. Alec did not say this, since Helen would take it as a confession.

“Mori Shu was murdered by vampires,” Helen Blackthorn said sharply. “Neither Malcolm nor Barnabas Hale nor Hypatia Vex, the only other warlocks in the vicinity I know of with anything like enough power, have any particular affiliation with vampires. Whereas Magnus Bane is well known to have strong ties, and even romantic entanglements, with some of the worst vampires of the New York clan—several of whom were at the party where Mori Shu and I were supposed to meet up. The party where Mori Shu was killed, before he could tell anyone what he knew.”