CITY OF GLASS

“Well, this is a touching scene,” said a cold voice. “Isn’t it?”


Clary turned, Luke’s hand still on her shoulder. Behind her stood a tall man in a blue cloak that swirled around his feet as he moved toward them. His face under the hood of his cloak was the face of a carved statue: high-cheekboned with eagle-sharp features and heavy-lidded eyes. “Lucian,” he said, without looking at Clary. “I might have expected you’d be the one behind this—this invasion.”

“Invasion?” Luke echoed, and suddenly, there was his pack of lycanthropes, standing behind him. They had moved into place so quickly and silently it was as if they’d appeared from out of nowhere. “We’re not the ones who invaded your city, Consul. That was Valentine. We’re just trying to help.”

“The Clave doesn’t need help,” the Consul snapped. “Not from the likes of you. You’re breaking the Law just by entering the Glass City, wards or no wards. You must know that.”

“I think it’s fairly clear that the Clave does need help. If we hadn’t come when we did, many more of you would now be dead.” Luke glanced around the room; several groups of Shadowhunters had moved toward them, drawn to see what was going on. Some of them met Luke’s gaze head-on; others dropped their eyes, as if ashamed. But none of them, Clary thought with a sudden surge of surprise, looked angry. “I did it to prove a point, Malachi.”

Malachi’s voice was cold. “And what point might that be?”

“That you need us,” Luke said. “To defeat Valentine, you need our help. Not just the help of lycanthropes, but of all Downworlders.”

“What can Downworlders do against Valentine?” Malachi asked scornfully. “Lucian, you know better than that. You were one of us once. We have always stood alone against all perils and guarded the world from evil. We will meet Valentine’s power now with a power of our own. The Downworlders would do well to stay out of our way. We are Nephilim; we fight our own battles.”

“That’s not precisely true, is it?” said a velvety voice. It was Magnus Bane, wearing a long and glittering coat, multiple hoops in his ears, and a roguish expression. Clary had no idea where he’d come from. “You lot have used the help of warlocks on more than one occasion in the past, and paid handsomely for it too.”

Malachi scowled. “I don’t remember the Clave inviting you into the Glass City, Magnus Bane.”

“They didn’t,” Magnus said. “Your wards are down.”

“Really?” The Consul’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Magnus looked concerned. “That’s terrible. Someone should have told you.” He glanced at Luke. “Tell him the wards are down.”

Luke looked exasperated. “Malachi, for God’s sake, the Downworlders are strong; we have numbers. I told you, we can help.”

The Consul’s voice rose. “And I told you, we don’t need or want your help!”

“Magnus,” Clary slipped silently to his side and whispered. A small crowd had gathered, watching Luke and the Consul fight; she was fairly sure no one was paying attention to her. “Come talk to me. While they’re all too busy squabbling to notice.”

Magnus gave her a quick questioning look, nodded, and drew her away, cutting through the crowd like a can opener. None of the assembled Shadowhunters or werewolves seemed to want to stand in the way of a six-foot-tall warlock with cat eyes and a manic grin. He hustled her into a quieter corner. “What is it?”

“I got the book.” Clary drew it from the pocket of her bedraggled coat, leaving smeared fingerprints on the ivory cover. “I went to Valentine’s manor. It was in the library like you said. And—” She broke off, thinking of the imprisoned angel. “Never mind.” She offered him the Book of the White. “Here. Take it.”

Magnus plucked the book from her grasp with a long-fingered hand. He flipped through the pages, his eyes widening. “This is even better than I’d heard it was,” he announced gleefully. “I can’t wait to get started on these spells.”

“Magnus!” Clary’s sharp voice brought him back down to earth. “My mom first. You promised.”

“And I abide by my promises.” The warlock nodded gravely.

“There’s something else, too,” she added, thinking of Simon. “Before you go—”