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

*

“Where are we going?” Kit said. He was holding the bag of potato chips, salt and grease on his fingers. It was a weird breakfast, but he’d had weirder in his life. Besides, the ocean breeze was lifting his hair off his forehead, the beach was deserted, and he and Ty were walking into a golden haze of sand and sunshine. Despite everything, his mood was lifting.

“Remember that cave?” Ty said. “The one we were in when we saw Zara talking to Manuel?”

“Yeah,” Kit said, and almost added, when we were with Livvy, but he knew that was what Ty meant by “we.” It was a word that for him would always include Livvy. The shadow of memory fell over Kit’s good mood: He remembered that night, Livvy laughing, Ty holding up a starfish—the salt air had tangled his usually straight hair, and his eyes had echoed the silver color of the moon. He had been smiling, his real, shining Ty-smile. Kit had felt closer to the two of them than he had ever felt to anyone else. “Wait—why are we going there?”

They had reached the part of the beach where long fingers of pocked granite reached out into the ocean. The waves rushed in from the sea, slamming against the rocks, whipping themselves up into white-silver spray.

Ty reached into the bag of chips, his arm brushing against Kit’s. “Because we need help to do necromancy. We can’t do it on our own.”

“Please tell me we don’t need help from an army of the dead. I hate armies of the dead.”

“Not an army of the dead. Hypatia Vex.”

Kit nearly dropped the chips. “Hypatia Vex? The warlock from London?”

“Yep,” said Ty. “Keep up, Watson.”

“That’s not a ‘keep up,’?” said Kit. “How would I know you contacted her? I didn’t think she liked us very much.”

“Does it matter?”

“You make a good point.” Kit stopped, sand kicking up around his sneakers. “Here we are.”

The dark hole in the bluff opened up in front of them. Ty paused too, rooting around in the pocket of his hoodie. “I have something for you.”

Kit rolled up the bag of chips and stashed it behind a rock. “You do?”

Ty produced a small white stone, about the size of a golf ball, with a rune etched into it. “Your witchlight rune-stone. Every Shadowhunter has one.” He took Kit’s hand unselfconsciously and pressed the stone into his palm. A hot flutter went through Kit’s stomach, surprising him. He’d never felt anything like it before.

“Thanks,” he said. “How do I activate it?”

“Close your fingers around it and think of light,” said Ty. “Imagine a light switch flicking on; that’s what Julian said to me. Come on—I’ll show you.”

Kit held the stone awkwardly as they headed up the path to the cave entrance. A few steps into the cave and the darkness enveloped them like velvet, muffling the sound of the waves outside. Kit could barely see Ty, the shadow of a shadow beside him.

Like flicking a switch, he thought, and closed his fingers around the rune-stone.

It gave a little kick in his palm, and light rayed out, illuminating the familiar stone corridor. It was much as it had been before, rough-walled and spidery, reminding Kit of the underground tunnels in the first Indiana Jones movie.

At least this time they knew where they were going. They followed the curve of the tunnel around a bend, into an enormous stone chamber. The walls were granite, though black lines scored through them showed where they had cracked long ago. The room smelled like something sweet—probably the smoke that rose from the candles placed on the wooden table in the room’s center. A hooded figure in a black robe, its face lost in shadow, sat where Zara had been sitting the last time they’d been here.

“Hypatia?” said Ty, stepping forward.

The figure raised a single, silencing finger. Both Kit and Ty hesitated as two gloved hands rose to push back the enveloping hood.

Ty licked his dry lips. “You’re—not Hypatia.” He turned to Kit. “That’s not her.”

“No,” Kit agreed. “Seems to be a green fellow with horns.”

“I’m not Hypatia, but she did send me,” said the warlock. “We have met before, the three of us. In the Shadow Market in London.”

Kit remembered quickly moving green-tinted hands. I have to say I never thought I’d have the pleasure of entertaining the Lost Herondale.

“Shade,” he said.

The warlock looked amused. “Not my real name, but it’ll do.”

Ty was shaking his head. “I want to deal with Hypatia,” he said. “Not you.”

Shade leaned back in his chair. “Most warlocks won’t touch necromancy,” he said quietly. “Hypatia isn’t any different; in fact, she’s smarter than most. She wants to run the Shadow Market herself one day, and she’s not going to endanger her chances.”

Ty’s expression seemed to splinter, like the cracked face of a statue. “I never said anything about necromancy—”

“Your twin sister just died,” said Shade. “And you reach out to a warlock with a desperate request. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what you want.”

Kit put his hand on Ty’s shoulder. “We don’t have to stay here,” he said. “We can just leave—”

“No,” said Shade. “Hear me out first, little Shadowhunters, if you wish for my help. I understand. Grief makes people mad. You search for a way to end it.”

“Yes,” said Ty. “I want to bring my sister back. I will bring my sister back.”

Shade’s dark eyes were flinty. “You want to raise the dead. Do you know how many people want to do that? It’s not a good plan. I suggest you drop it. I could help you out with something else. Have you ever wanted to move objects with your mind?”

“Sure,” said Kit. “That sounds great.” Anything but this.

“I have the Black Volume of the Dead,” said Ty. “Or at least, I have a copy.”

He didn’t seem to recognize the absolute astonishment on Shade’s face, but Kit saw it. It increased both his pride in Ty and, at the same time, his apprehension.

“Well,” said Shade finally. “That’s better than the real thing.”

Odd thing to say, Kit thought.

“So it’s not the spells we need help with,” said Ty. “We need your help in gathering spell components. Some are easy to get, but Shadowhunters aren’t welcome at the Shadow Market, so if you could go, I could give you money, or we have a lot of valuable weapons in the Institute—”

Kit was pleased. “I thought about selling those once, myself.”

Shade held up his gloved hands. “No,” he said. “I’ll help you, all right, but it won’t be fast, and it won’t be easy.”

“Good,” said Ty, but Kit was instantly suspicious.

“Why?” said Kit. “Why would you help us? You don’t approve—”

“I don’t,” said Shade. “But if it isn’t me, it’ll be someone else, some other warlock with fewer scruples. At least I can make sure you do this as cleanly as possible. I can show you how to cast the spell properly. I can get you a catalyst—a clean energy source that won’t corrupt what you do.”

“But you won’t go to the Shadow Market?” said Kit.

“The spell only works if the spell caster collects the components themselves,” said Shade. “And you’ll be the one casting this spell, even if you need me to direct you. So whatever is between you two and the people of the Shadow Market—and I saw some of it myself, so I know it’s personal—clean it up.” His voice was gruff. “You’re clever, you can figure it out. When you’ve got what you need, come back to me. I’ll remain here in the cave for as long as you’re committed to this insane project. But send a note if you’re planning on dropping by. I like my privacy.”