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

Cameron pointed at Julian. “His collar’s torn—” He shook his head impatiently. “Show her,” he said to Julian.

“Your rune,” Emma whispered, and Julian, realization bursting brightly behind his eyes, yanked his collar down to show Livvy the rune on his chest. Though Julian’s impermanent runes—Night Vision, Stealth, Sure-Strike—had been fading to gray since they’d entered Faerie, his parabatai rune stood out black and clear.

Livvy froze.

“The Endarkened can’t bear Nephilim runes,” said Julian. “You know that, Livvy.”

“I know you think we’re Emma and Julian, the Endarkened version,” said Emma. “But we’ve seen them. They’re down on the beach.” She pointed. “Seriously. Look.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Livvy’s face. “Cameron. Go look.”

Cameron went to the edge of the bluffs and peered down through a pair of binoculars. Julian held his breath; he could tell Emma was holding hers as well.

“Yeah, they’re there,” Cameron said after a long pause. “And they’re making out. Gross.”

“They were always doing that before they were Endarkened,” said Livvy. “Some things never change.”

Emma raised her left hand to show her Voyance rune. “We’re Shadowhunters. We know you, Livvy, and we love you—”

“Stop,” Livvy said fiercely. “Fine, maybe you’re not the Endarkened, but this could still be some kind of demonic shape-changing—”

“These are angelic runes,” said Julian. “We’re not demons—”

“Then who are you?” Livvy cried, and her voice echoed with an awful hopelessness, a loneliness as dark and bottomless as a well. “Who am I supposed to think you are?”

“We’re still us,” Emma said. “Jules and Emma. We’re from another world. One where Sebastian is not in charge. One with runes.”

Livvy stared at her blankly.

“Liv,” said Cameron, lowering his binoculars. “The party on the beach is starting to break up. They’ll be climbing up here any second. What are we doing?”

Livvy hesitated, but only for a second. Julian guessed that a lot of free time to make decisions wasn’t a luxury this version of his sister had. “Let’s take them back to the Bradbury,” she said. “Maybe Diana will be back. She’s seen a lot—she might have some idea what’s going on here.”

“Diana? Diana Wrayburn?” said Emma with relief. “Yes, take us to Diana, please.”

Cameron and Livvy exchanged a look of complete bafflement.

“All right, fine,” Livvy said finally. She gestured toward a black Jeep Wrangler with tinted windows parked along the side of the highway. “Get in the car, both of you, backseat. And don’t even consider trying anything funny. I’ll blow your heads right off.”

*

Livvy was riding shotgun, which meant she was sitting in the passenger seat with an actual shotgun slung across her lap. Beside her, Cameron drove with a sharp efficiency that was entirely at odds with the hapless, slightly lazy Cameron Emma knew in her own world. He navigated the car effortlessly around the massive potholes that pocked the asphalt of the Pacific Coast Highway like dings in the side of an old car.

Julian was silent, staring out his window with an appalled fascination. There was little to see, except the ruined road swept by their headlights, but the darkness itself was startling. The absence of streetlights, road signs, and illuminated windows lining the road was shocking in itself, like looking at a face missing its eyes.

Light finally evolved out of the darkness as they reached the end of the highway, where a tunnel connected it to the 10 freeway. On their right was the Santa Monica Pier, the familiar jetty now in ruins as if a giant had hacked at it with an ax. Chunks of wood and concrete lay tumbled and jagged in the water. Only the old carousel was untouched. It was lit up, atonal music pouring from its speakers. Clinging to the backs of the old-fashioned painted ponies were shadowy, inhuman shapes, their chittering giggles carried on the night air. The faces of the ponies appeared to be twisted into tormented, shrieking masks.

Emma looked away, glad when the car went into the tunnel, cutting off her view of the merry-go-round.

“The pier is one of the first places that the hellbeasts staked out,” Cameron said, glancing into the backseat. “Who knew that demons liked amusement parks?”

Emma cleared her throat. “Mad for funnel cakes?”

Cameron laughed dryly. “Same old Emma. Sarcastic in the face of adversity.”

Livvy darted a sharp look at him.

“I guess we shouldn’t ask about Disneyland,” said Julian in a flat voice.

Julian probably hadn’t expected Cameron and Livvy to laugh, but the way they both tensed suggested that something really terrible had happened at Disneyland. Emma decided not to pursue it. There were bigger questions. “When did all this happen?” she said.

“Just after the Dark War,” said Livvy. “When Sebastian won.”

“So he still attacked all the Institutes?” Emma asked. She hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t wanted to court even the tiny possibility that her parents might be alive in this world, but she couldn’t help the catch of hope in her voice. “Los Angeles, too?”

“Yes,” said Livvy. Her voice was flat. “Your parents were killed. Our father was Endarkened.”

Emma flinched. She’d known there was no real hope, but it still hurt. And Julian must have wondered about his father, she knew. She wanted to reach out a hand to him, but the memory of the emotionless Julian of the past week held her back.

“In our world, those things happened too,” said Julian, after a long pause. “But we won the war.”

“Sebastian died,” said Emma. “Clary killed him.”

“Clary Fairchild?” said Cameron. His voice was thick with doubt. “She was murdered by the demon Lilith at the Battle of the Burren.”

“No,” said Emma stubbornly. “Clary and her friends won at the Battle of the Burren. There are paintings of it. She rescued Jace with the sword Glorious and they tracked Sebastian down in Edom; he never won—”

Livvy tapped her short fingernails on the barrel of her gun. “Nice story. So you’re claiming you come from a place where Sebastian is dead, demons aren’t roaming the streets, and Shadowhunters still have angelic power?”

“Yes,” Emma said.

Livvy turned to look at her. The scar that cut across her eye was an angry red in the scarlet moonlight. “Well, if it’s so great there, what are you doing here?”

“It wasn’t a planned vacation. Not everything in our world is perfect,” Emma said. “Far from it, really.”

She glanced at Julian and to her surprise found him looking back at her, matching her searching glance with his own. An echo of their old instant communication flared—Should we tell Livvy that she’s dead in our world?

Emma shook her head slightly. Livvy didn’t believe them about anything yet. That piece of information wouldn’t help.

“Gotta get off,” said Cameron. There were a few lights out here, illuminating patches of highway, and Emma could see the occasional illumination dotting the flat plain of the city beyond. It didn’t look anything like Los Angeles at night, though. The diamond chains of white light were gone, replaced by irregular spots of brightness. A fire burned somewhere on a distant hill.

In front of them, a massive crack divided the highway, as if someone had sliced neatly through the concrete. Cameron swung away from the rift, taking the nearest off-ramp. He dimmed the headlights as they hit the streets, and cruised at a slow speed through a residential neighborhood.

It was an unremarkable L.A. street lined with one-level ranch houses. Most of them were boarded up, the curtains pulled, only tiny glimpses of light visible within. Many were completely dark, and a few of those showed signs of forced entry—doors torn off at the hinges, bloodstains smearing the white stucco walls. Along the curb were a few abandoned cars with their trunks still open as though the people who owned them had been . . . taken away . . . while trying to make a break for it.