Angels Twice Descending (Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, #10)

Also, he still wanted some of those soup dumplings.

Simon wandered down Flatbush, soaking in the familiar noises of New York at night, sirens and construction drills and road-rage honking, along with the slightly less familiar sounds of glamoured faerie hounds barking at the pigeons. He crossed the Manhattan Bridge, metal rattling beneath his feet as the subway roared past, the lights of the Financial District glittering through the fog. Even before he’d known anything about demons and Downworlders, Simon thought, he had always known New York was full of magic. Maybe that was why it had been so easy for him to accept the truth about the Shadow World: In his city, anything was possible.

Conveniently, the bridge dumped him off in the heart of Chinatown. As he popped into his favorite hole-in-the-wall and scarfed a to-go order of dumplings, Simon’s mind strayed to Isabelle, wondering if she was close by, slashing evildoers with her electrum whip. It boggled his mind—if you thought about it, he was basically dating a superhero.

Of course, the thing about dating a superhero was that you couldn’t exactly ask them to take a break from saving the world just because you were in the mood for a last-minute date. So Simon kept walking, soaking in the rhythm of the midnight city, letting his mind wander as aimlessly as his feet. At least, he thought he was wandering aimlessly, until he found himself on a familiar block of Avenue D, passing a bodega where the milk was always sour but the guy behind the counter would give you free coffee with your morning doughnut, if you knew enough to ask.

Wait, how did I know that? Simon thought. The answer came to him on the heels of the question. He knew that because, in some other forgotten life, he had lived here. He and Jordan Kyle had shared an apartment in the crumbling redbrick building on the corner. A vampire and a werewolf living together—it sounded like the beginning of a bad joke, but the only bad joke was that Simon had practically forgotten it ever happened.

And Jordan was dead.

It hit him now almost as hard as it had when he first heard: Jordan was dead. And not just Jordan. Raphael was dead. Isabelle’s brother Max, dead. Clary’s brother Sebastian, dead. Julie’s sister. Beatriz’s grandfather and father and brother, Julian Blackthorn’s father, Emma Carstairs’s parents—all of them dead, and those were only the ones Simon had been told about. How many other people he had cared about, or people the people he loved had cared about, had been lost to one Shadowhunter war or another? He was still a teenager—he wasn’t supposed to know this many people who had died.

And me, he thought suddenly. Don’t forget that one.

Because it was true, wasn’t it? Before life as a vampire, there’d been death. Cold and bloodless and underground.

Then, later, there’d been the forgetting, and that was a kind of death too.

Simon wasn’t even a Shadowhunter yet, and already, this life had taken so much from him.

“Simon. I thought you’d be here.”

Simon turned around and was reminded that for all the losses, there’d also been some very significant gains. “Isabelle,” he breathed, and then, for quite a while, his lips were too occupied to speak.

*

They went back to Magnus and Alec’s apartment. The couple had taken their new baby on vacation to Bali, which meant Simon and Isabelle could have the place to themselves.

“You sure it’s okay for us to be here?” Simon asked, looking nervously around the apartment. The last time he’d seen it, the decorating ethos had been part–Studio 54, part-bordello: lots of disco balls, velvet curtains, and some appallingly placed mirrors. Now the living room looked like something puked up by a Babies“R”Us—blankets and diapers and mobiles and stuffed bunnies everywhere you looked.