The Red Scrolls of Magic
“Helen,” said Alec. “You mentioned Hypatia Vex as a possible suspect. So Mori Shu never specifically said the leader of the Hand was a man?”
Helen blinked. “He didn’t say anything that would indicate either way.”
“People at the Paris Shadow Market spoke as if it was a man,” Alec said in a low voice. “Because the rumor was that it was Magnus. Even if someone didn’t believe it was Magnus, they said ‘he’ without thinking. And Magnus and I were so busy defending him, we didn’t think.”
The informant on the Crimson Hand, murdered at the party in Venice. Marked with the point of a three-sided blade.
In times of trouble, remember: all roads lead to Rome.
The line was missing from the version of the Red Scrolls of Magic Isabelle had sent him. The one in the Chamber had been altered to add an extra rule, pointing them toward Rome.
And Shinyun Jung, a warlock who was clearly a well-trained warrior, whose movements were usually quick and graceful, had tripped, and made sure they found the altered book. Leading them here.
“We have to go,” said Alec. “Now.”
Just as he turned back in the direction they had come, the woods around them came alive. A sharp wind rustled the branches and tumbled the leaves. The air around them warmed, the temperature spiking alarmingly. It had been a cool, breezy night a few seconds ago, but now they were in sweltering heat.
Five pillars of fire rose at the edge of the clearing around them, each several stories tall and as thick as a tree trunk. Branches and rocks snapped, flames licked the vegetation and consumed it, and the air became thick and nearly impossible to breathe. The pillars crackled and ejected large embers into the sky, hundreds of fireflies swirling in the air.
All three Shadowhunters took out steles and rapidly drew some Marks for defense: Accuracy. Stamina. Strength. And, maybe most important, Fireproof.
Putting away her stele, Aline whispered, “Jophiel,” and her angel-infused daggers appeared in her hands. Alec took out his bow, and a glowing white light illuminated Helen’s hand as she drew her seraph blade and named an angel as well. Alec couldn’t hear the name over the roar of the flames.
“At the risk of sounding redundant,” said Helen. “Oh no. This is a trap.”
They gathered, standing back to back to back, in the middle of the clearing. In light of what they were facing, it seemed very inadequate.
“This was stupid, coming here with only three of us,” said Alec. “The Crimson Hand knew exactly where we would be, and when.”
“How?” Aline demanded.
Alec nocked an arrow on his bowstring. “Because their leader—she told us to be here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
* * *
The Great Poison
THE ANCIENT VILLA TOWERED BEFORE Magnus, its broken towers like jagged teeth rising into the sky.
“Subtle, these cultists are not,” Magnus commented. He checked his watch. “Alec should be here by now.”
Shinyun was standing beside him. He could feel the tension running through her entire body.
“Maybe they’re questioning him at the Rome Institute,” she said. “You know the Nephilim will not look favorably on anything he has been doing. He could be in a lot of trouble. And if we wait for him any longer, we’ll lose our chance to capture the Crimson Hand.”
According to Shinyun’s informant, senior members of the Crimson Hand were meeting with a group of potential disciples. Their leader might even be present.
Alec would want Magnus to wait for him. Magnus wanted to wait for Alec. But Shinyun was right. Alec could be trapped, answering difficult questions at the Rome Institute, and it would be all Magnus’s fault.
The best thing Magnus could do would be to capture the leader and put an end to the Crimson Hand. Surely the Nephilim would be appeased, and Alec cleared of any suspicion.
Shinyun said, “This could be our only opportunity.”
Magnus took a deep breath and decided his hesitation was absurd.
This was nothing he could not handle on his own. He had always done just fine by himself before.
“Lead the way,” he told Shinyun.
They entered the villa through what had evidently once been a stable and searched their way through a series of rooms. The building had long since been ransacked. Broken cabinets, torn tapestries, shattered glass littered the floors. Nature had already begun the slow process of consuming the villa. Weeds and vines infiltrated the cracks in the walls and windows. The strong scent of stagnant water lingered in the air. Everything was damp. The dank smell was making Magnus light-headed. He was finding it a little difficult to breathe.
“Evil can be excused, sometimes. Squalor, though, never,” Magnus murmured.
Shinyun murmured back, “Will you stop making jokes?”
“Unlikely,” said Magnus.
They entered a long room with a low ceiling and broken shelves. In another life, it had probably served as a pantry. Now rotting wood, cracked stone, and overgrown vines spiderwebbed the walls. A pool of water rested where the ground had sunk in. Shinyun held up a finger and froze. Magnus listened. There it was, a noise at last; the faint sound of chanting.
Shinyun pointed to the other end of the room and crept across, giving the dirty pool of water a wide berth. Just as she was about to leave the room, a metal portcullis, apparently in much better repair than the rest of the place, slammed down in the doorway in front of her.