Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices #3)

“Alec.” Jace reached Alec. A troll was running toward them, its tusks stained with blood, its ax raised. Its eyes gleamed with hate. Jace tugged a knife from his belt and flung it and the troll went down, gurgling, the blade in its throat.

“What is it?” Alec didn’t glance at him. He nocked his bow again, drew, and impaled a glass-toothed goblin that had been running toward Simon. Simon gave him an offhand salute and went back to fighting a mossy thing Jace suspected was a dryad gone wrong.

“The gates of the city are open—”

“I noticed.” Alec shot the dryad. It ran off toward the trees.

“More Cohort members are coming onto the field.”

“So are more of our allies. Jia’s here,” said Alec.

“True.” An ogre came at Jace from the left. He cut it down with quick efficiency. “Where’s Magnus?”

Alec watched Simon with narrow eyes; he’d joined Clary in cutting down a redcap. The redcaps were the deadliest faerie soldiers on the field, but Jace was pleased to see Clary handle hers with aplomb. She slashed at its knees, and when it fell, Simon lopped off its head. Good solid parabatai work.

“Why do you want to know where Magnus is?” Alec said.

“Because these Cohort members are all Shadowhunters,” Jace said frankly. “I’ve been trying not to kill them. I’ve been using the flat of my blade, whacking them on the heads when they go down, or letting Clary use her knockout runes, but it’s a lot harder not killing people than killing them.” He sighed and threw a knife at an attacking pixie. “We could use Magnus’s help.”

“You know,” Alec said, “vampires are really good at taking people down without killing them. Just grab a person, drink enough blood to make them pass out, and voilà.”

“Not helpful,” Jace said. Another troll rushed at them. Jace and Alec reached for their weapons at the same time. The troll eyed them, turned, and ran off.

Alec laughed. “You’re in luck, parabatai,” he said, and pointed toward the edge of Brocelind Forest.

Jace followed his gesture. The edge of the trees was deeply shaded, but Clary had put Farsight runes on him earlier. He could even see a small figure perched halfway up an oak tree, using a slingshot to take down Unseelie soldiers. Interesting. He also saw Magnus, who had just stepped out of the shadows beneath the trees.

He was in full warlock regalia—a cloak of black sewn with silver stars, silver chains at his throat and wrists, hair spiked to maximum height. Blue fire spread from his hands. It flowed up into the air, and the already thick clouds began to draw together.

Clary jogged over to them, picking her way among dead trolls and ogres. She was beaming. “I thought he was worried he couldn’t do it!” she exclaimed. “He looks so cool.”

“Just watch,” Alec said, winking at her. “And he does look cool.” He shot an approaching troll, just in case anyone was worried he was slacking off.

Jace hadn’t been. The field was starting to roil in chaos, werewolves and warlocks, faeries and Shadowhunters, turning to look at Magnus as blue-black magic unfurled from his hands, spreading into the sky.

The sky itself began to darken. It was as if a sheet were being drawn across it: Light filtered down, but not all light—a dim bluish light like the illumination of stars or moonshine. Gwyn and Diana circled against the darkening sky.

Magnus began to sway. Jace sensed Alec tensing up. This was immense magic—the kind that could drain a warlock’s power.

Another figure stepped from the woods. A man with green skin and curling horns, hair as white as Catarina’s. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt with white lettering.

He placed his hand on Magnus’s shoulder.

“Is that Ragnor Fell in a ‘Ragnor Lives’ T-shirt?” said Clary in amazement. Ragnor was one of Magnus’s oldest friends and had spent several years pretending to be dead and then several more pretending to be a warlock called Shade. Jace and Clary had good cause to know him well.

“I wouldn’t wear a ‘Simon Lives’ T-shirt to a battle,” said Simon, who was standing within earshot. “Seems like asking for trouble.”

Alec laughed. “I think he’ll be okay,” he said as Ragnor held fast to Magnus and Magnus raised his hands, releasing more blue-black light. “He’s just giving Magnus some of his strength.”

The sky had turned dark as sunset, without the gleam of the setting sun. Magnus lowered his hands as from the woods behind him, protected by the new darkness, exploded the vampires—Lily in the lead, racing across the field to join the battle.

“I know what you said,” said Jace, watching as the vampires closed the gap between themselves and the Cohort, “but did the vampires get the memo about not killing Shadowhunters?”

Alec grinned.

*

“By the Angel!” Aline swore, her mouth dropping open.

Helen whipped around, raising her sword. Fighting alongside the people you loved was always terrifying. You weren’t just battling to protect yourself; you were fighting for them as well. She would have battled a Greater Demon bare-handed to save Aline.

Aline caught at Helen’s sword arm. “My mom!” She was almost incoherent. “They’re coming out of the city—and my mom is with them!”

The gates of Alicante had been thrown wide and Shadowhunters were pouring through. At the head of the cavalcade she could see Jia, dressed in battle gear with a massive curved dao in her hand and Centurions—Diego, Rayan, Divya, and others—on either side of her. Scariest mother-in-law ever, Helen thought.

Helen and Aline raced toward the new arrivals. As they got closer, Aline broke free and ran to throw her arms around her mother. Jia lowered her sword and hugged her daughter fiercely with her free arm, their dark heads bent together.

“Where’s Dad?” Aline said, drawing back to study her mother’s face.

“Still in the city. He’s coordinating with Carmen Mendoza and the Silent Brothers to make sure that people inside stay safe.”

“But how did you get out of the Gard?” Aline asked.

Jia almost smiled. “Drusilla let us out last night. She’s a very enterprising child! Speaking of Blackthorns, Helen, come here.”

A little hesitant, Helen approached Jia. She’d always thought her mother-in-law was impressive, but she’d never been more intimidating than in this moment.

Jia put an arm around her and hugged her so tightly Helen remembered her own mother Eleanor and the strength of her embrace. “My darling, you’ve done such a wonderful job at the Institute,” Jia said. “I am so proud.”

Divya sniffled. “That is so sweet.”

Jia ended the hug, all business again. “All right, everyone, enough gawking. We are entering a battle, one where we will be fighting other Shadowhunters. Ones we would prefer not to kill. We need to make a Malachi Configuration.”

Helen dimly remembered what a Malachi Configuration was—a temporary magical prison created by adamas and runes. It was sometimes used by the Inquisitor or the Silent Brothers when they had no other way to hold a prisoner.

Diego responded first. “On it!” He grabbed a seraph blade and crossed over into the edge of the Fields before kneeling to stab it into the earth. “I’ll take north; Divya, you go south; Rayan, go east. We need to mark the four cardinal directions.”

“Bossy, bossy,” said Divya, but she was smiling. Aline moved to help as well, going to the western point. The rest of the newcomers were drawing weapons. Jaime had his crossbow out and was clearly itching to jump into the fight.

Jia said, “Remember what Drusilla said about the Watch’s plan. Try not to kill Cohort members if you have a choice. Herd them back here toward the configuration. They’re still Shadowhunters, even if they are misguided.”

With whoops and cries the Shadowhunters raced onto the field and plunged into the battle just as a sweet chiming noise sounded and the Malachi Configuration flared up.

Light poured from the four angel blades, forming a cage whose walls were made of shifting light. It looked delicate as butterfly wings, prismatic as glass. Helen gazed at the configuration and hoped that their plan to spare the lives of the Cohort would not be in vain. The luminous walls of the prison looked too fragile to hold so much hate.