“The legendary Lost Herondale,” said Magnus. “You know, I was starting to think that was a rumor Catarina made up, like the Loch Ness Monster or the Bermuda Triangle.”
“Catarina made up the Bermuda Triangle?” said Alec.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alexander. That was Ragnor.” Magnus touched Livvy’s arm lightly. She cried out. Ty dropped the chair he’d been struggling with and took a ragged breath.
“You’re hurting her,” he said. “Don’t.”
His voice was quiet, but in it Kit could hear steel in it, and see the boy who’d held him at knifepoint in his father’s house.
Magnus leaned his hands on the table. “I’ll try not to, Tiberius,” he said. “But I may have to cause her pain to heal her.”
Ty seemed about to answer, just as the door flew open and Mark burst in. He caught sight of Livvy, and blanched. “Livvy.
He tried to start forward, but Alec caught at his arm. For all Alec’s slenderness, he was deceptively strong. He held Mark back while blue fire sparked from Magnus’s hand and he passed it down Livvy’s side. The sleeve of her jacket and shirt seemed to melt away, revealing a long, ugly cut seeping yellow fluid.
Mark sucked in a breath. “What’s going on?”
“Fight at the Shadow Market,” Magnus said briefly. “Livia was cut with a piece of glass with orias root on it. Very poisonous, but curable.” He moved his fingers over Livvy’s arm; as he did, a bluish light seemed to glow under her skin, as if it were pulsing from the inside out.
“The Shadow Market?” Mark demanded. “What the hell was Livvy doing at the Shadow Market?”
Nobody answered. Kit felt as if he was shrinking inward.
“What’s going on?” Ty demanded. His hands were still opening at his sides, as if he were trying to shake something off his skin. His shoulders rolled back. It was as if his worry and agitation were expressing themselves through a silent music that made his nerves and muscles dance. “Is that blue light normal?”
Mark said something to Alec, and Alec nodded. He released the other boy’s arm, and Mark came around the table to put his hand on Ty’s shoulder. Ty leaned into him, though he didn’t stop moving.
“Magnus is the best there is,” Alec said. “Healing magic is his specialty.” Alec’s voice was gentle. The voice of someone who wasn’t quieting his tone to keep someone calm, but who actually empathized. “Magnus cured me, once,” he added. “It was demon poison; I shouldn’t have lived, but I did. You can trust him.”
Livvy gave a sudden gasp and her back jerked; Ty put his hand to his own arm, his fingers clenching. Then her body relaxed. Color began to come back to her face, her cheeks turning from yellowish-gray to pink. Ty, too, relaxed visibly.
“That’s the poison gone,” said Magnus matter-of-factly. “Now we have to work on the blood loss and the cut.”
“There are runes for both those things,” said Ty. “I can put them on her.”
But Magnus was shaking his head. “Better not to use them—runes draw some of their strength from the bearer,” he said. “If she had a
Ty didn’t say anything. His face had gone still and completely white.
“She doesn’t,” Kit said, realizing Ty wasn’t going to say anything.
“That’s all right. She’ll be fine,” Magnus reassured them. “Might as well move her to her bedroom, though. No reason for her to sleep on a table.”
“I’ll help you take her,” Mark said. “Ty, why don’t you come with us.”
“Alec, can you go to the infirmary?” Magnus said, as Mark went to lift his sister into his arms. Poor Livvy, Kit thought; she would hate to be dragged around like a sack of potatoes. “You’ll know what I need.”
Alec nodded.
“Take Kit with you,” said Magnus. “You’ll want help carrying everything.”
Kit found himself not minding the idea of making conversation with Alec. Alec had a comforting sort of presence—quiet, and contained. As he and Alec headed out of the room, Kit glanced back once at Ty. Kit had never had siblings, never had a mother, had only had Johnny. His father. His father who had died, and he didn’t think he’d ever looked the way Ty looked now, as if the possibility of something happening to Livvy was enough to break him inside.
Maybe there was something wrong with him, Kit thought as he followed Alec into the hallway. Maybe he didn’t have the right kind of feelings. He’d never wondered that much about his mother, who she was: Wouldn’t someone who knew how to feel properly wonder that?
“So you met Jace,” said Alec, scuffing his shoes along the carpet as they went. “What did you think?”
“Of Jace?” Kit was puzzled. He didn’t know why anyone would solicit his opinion on the head of the New York Institute.
“Just making small talk.” Alec had an odd half smile, as if he were keeping a number of thoughts to himself. They passed through a door marked INFIRMARY into a large room, filled with old-fashioned single metal beds. Alec went behind a counter and started rummaging.