Lord of Shadows The Dark Artifices 2

“His voice filtered down into my tomb. He read me that poem, over and over. ‘It was many and many a year ago.’ ” Her gaze was bleak. “He betrayed me while I lived, and again when I was dead. Death is a gift, you understand. The passing beyond pain and sorrow. He denied me that.”

“I’m sorry,” Julian said. The moon had started to sink in the sky. He wondered how late it was.

“Sorry,” she echoed dismissively, as if the word had no meaning for her. “There will be a war,” she said, “between Faerie and Shadowhunters. But that is not my concern. My concern is that you promise to no longer try to obtain the Black Volume. Let it alone, Julian Blackthorn.”

He exhaled. He would have lied in a moment and promised, but he suspected a promise to someone like Annabel would hold a terrifying weight. “I can’t,” he said. “We need the Black Volume. I cannot tell you why, but I swear it will be kept safe and out of the hands of the King.”

“I have told you what the book did to me,” she said, and for the first time, she seemed animated, her cheeks flushed. “It has no use but evil use. You should not want it.”

“I won’t use it for evil,” Julian said. That much was true, he thought.

“It cannot be used for anything else,” she said. “It destroys families, people—”

“My family will be destroyed if I don’t have the book.”

Annabel paused. “Oh,” she said. And then, more gently, “But think of what will be destroyed with this book out there, in the world. So much more. There are higher causes.”

“Not to me,” said Julian. The world can burn if my family lives, he thought, and was about to say it when the cottage door flew open.

Emma stood in the doorway. She was shoving her feet into unlaced boots, Cortana in her hand. Her hair was rumpled over her shoulders, but her grip on the sword was unwavering.

Her gaze sought out Julian, then found Annabel; she started, stared incredulously. He saw her mouth shape Annabel’s name, as Annabel threw her hood up over her head and bolted.

Julian started after her, Emma only a second behind him. But Annabel was shockingly fast. She flew across the grass and heather-strewn slope to the edge of the cliff; with a last glance back, she flung herself into the air.

“Annabel!” Julian raced to the cliff edge, Emma at his side. He stared down into the water, hundreds of feet below, untroubled by even a ripple. Annabel had vanished.

*   *   *

They exploded back into the Institute, appearing in the library. It was like being dropped from a great height, and Kit staggered and fell back against the table, clawing at Livvy so he wouldn’t drop her.

Ty had fallen to his knees and was righting himself. Kit glanced at Livvy’s face—it was gray, with an eerie yellowish tinge.

“Magnus—” he gasped.

The warlock, who had landed with the ease of long practice, spun around, instantly assessing the situation. “Calm down,” he said, “everything’s fine,” and he started to take Livvy from Kit’s grasp. Kit let her go with relief—someone was going to take care of this. Magnus Bane was going to take care of this. He wouldn’t let Livvy die.

It took Kit a moment to notice that there was already someone standing in the library. Someone he didn’t know, who moved toward Magnus just as the warlock eased Livvy down onto the long table. It was a young man about Jace’s age, with straight dark hair that looked as if he had slept on it and not bothered to brush it. He wore a washed-out sweater and jeans. He glared at Magnus. “You woke up the kids,” he said.

“Alec, we have kind of an emergency here,” said Magnus.

So this was Alec Lightwood. Somehow Kit had expected him to look older.

“Small children who are awake are also an emergency,” said Alec. “I’m just saying.”

“All right, move the furniture back,” Magnus said to Ty and Kit. “I need some working space.” He glanced sideways at Alec as the two younger boys moved chairs and small bookcases out of the way. “So where are the kids?”

Magnus was stripping off his coat. Alec held out his hand and caught the coat as Magnus tossed it to him, a practiced move that suggested he was used to the gesture. “I left them with a nice girl named Cristina. She said she likes children.”

“You just left our children with strangers?”

“Everyone else is asleep,” said Alec. “Besides, she knows lullabies. In Spanish. Rafe is in love.” He glanced over at Kit again. “By the Angel, it’s uncanny,” he said in a sudden burst, as if he couldn’t help it.

Kit felt unnerved. “What’s uncanny?”

“He means you look like Jace,” said Magnus. “Jace Herondale.”

“My parabatai,” said Alec, with love and pride.

“I know Jace,” said Kit. He was looking at Ty, who was struggling to move a chair. It wasn’t that it was too heavy for him, but that his hands were opening and closing at his sides, making his gestures unusually clumsy and uncoordinated. “He came out to the L.A. Institute after my—after they found out who I was.”