“One of these pairs of fighters is the real Magnus Bane and the real Shinyun Jung. Consider it a test, little Shadowhunter. If you recognize him, you can save him.”

Alec had his bow and blade in his hands, every muscle straining. He was ready to fight, frantic to rescue Magnus, and he was locked in place with terror.

A hundred Magnus Banes were fighting for their lives against a hundred Shinyun Jungs. All were identical. A hundred Magnus Banes in white robes stabbed another hundred Shinyuns, and any one of them could have been the real Magnus. The one on the ground, awaiting the killing blow, might have been the real Magnus, desperately needing Alec’s help. Or the one winning the fight could be the true Magnus, only for Alec to kill him by trying to help him.

“An ingenious bit of magic, if I do say so,” the demon said, through Bernard. “Clever, but at the same time, very cruel, for it does offer you hope. All you need to do is recognize the true Magnus Bane. Isn’t that always the way it is in fairy tales? The prince can tell his true love even when she is transformed, a swan among other swans, a pebble on a beach of sand.” Bernard chuckled. “If only the world were a fairy tale, Nephilim.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

* * *

The Prince of Fools

THERE WAS QUIET TERROR INSIDE the pentagram, and chaos without. Then there was light. The light seemed to switch off the rest of the world. Everything outside the pentagram, including Alec, was gone. There was only his father.

A man in a white suit floated in the darkness of the funnel, looking down at Magnus and Shinyun. He wore a crown of barbed wire on his head and matching dull-silver cuff links. He descended to the ground gracefully, like water sliding downstream over a bed of pebbles.

Asmodeus wore just a hint of a smirk, showing off his jagged, hungry teeth. He looked at Shinyun, and then at Magnus. “You’ve brought me a gift.”

“Father?” said Shinyun. She sounded almost like a child.

Magnus swallowed down terror and hate and carelessly flicked a lock of hair off his forehead. “Hi, Dad.”

Asmodeus’s eyes, and his hungry half-smile, were fixed on Magnus.

Magnus saw the exact moment the truth hit Shinyun. One second she was completely still; the next, her body shook as if she had just been electrocuted.

She turned slowly to look at Magnus. “No,” she moaned, her voice barely a whisper. “You can’t be his son. Not his real son. No.”

Magnus grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“I did tell you, my dear, that this was going to be a family gathering.” Asmodeus’s smile grew as he soaked in her pain. He licked his lips as if relishing the taste. “It’s just not yours.”

Asmodeus had been playing with her, fooling her as easily as Magnus had tricked the cultists of the Crimson Hand long ago.

Shinyun kept looking at one of them, then the other, and looking away as if the sight burned her eyes. Magnus wondered if she could see the resemblance. She was breathing hard, and erratically. At last her eyes fixed on Magnus.

“You get everything,” Shinyun whispered. “You’ve taken everything from me.”

“What a good idea,” said Asmodeus. “Why don’t you do that, son? Take back the cult you made. Take the place she dreamed of. At my right hand.”

Shinyun screamed, “No!”

Her burning eyes filled. Her tears fell, even as she pounced. Magnus dodged the swing of her sword, stumbling under her onslaught. She swung again and Magnus hit the ground, rolling to avoid the blow. There was dust in his eyes. He could see no way he could escape steel and death for long.

No third blow came. Magnus looked up, then scrambled cautiously to his feet.

Shinyun was frozen mid-lunge, as if she were about to fall over. Magnus looked into her eyes. They were frantic, darting side to side. Her body was as frozen now as her face had always been. Only her eyes were alive.

Magnus looked at Asmodeus, who spread out his hands with a flourish Magnus recognized. He had made the same gesture many times himself, when performing a feat of magic.

“Now, this I don’t understand,” Magnus said. “You’ve had your fun. You performed your signature move, made your offer, caused as much pain and fury as you possibly could. Why stop her? Why not let this play out? Not that I’m keen to be turned into a shish kebab by an enraged cultist, but I don’t get your angle.”

“I want to talk to my son,” said Asmodeus. “It has been almost two centuries since we last spoke, Magnus. You don’t write, you don’t call, you don’t make sacrifices on my altar. It wounds your fond parent.”

He moved, grinning like a skull, to give Magnus a fatherly pat on the shoulder. Magnus threw up an arm to shove him back.

His arm went straight through Asmodeus. “You’re not actually here.”

Asmodeus’s grotesque grin grew impossibly wider. “Not yet. Not until I take away someone’s immortality and use it as my anchor to this world.”

“My immortality,” said Magnus.

Asmodeus waved a hand at Shinyun. “Oh, no. Hers will do.”

His hand was smooth and pale, the fingers ending in claws. Magnus saw Shinyun’s eyes, the only moving part of her, fill with fresh, humiliated tears.

“So I am to be spared,” said Magnus. “How splendid for me. May I ask why? I presume it is not overflowing paternal affection. You can’t feel that.”