City of Fallen Angels

“We have good reasons.”


“So do we.” Kyle leaned forward. The muscles in his arms flexed as he propped his elbows on his knees. “There are two kinds of werewolves,” he explained. “The kind that are born werewolves, with werewolf parents, and the kind that get infected with lycanthropy through a bite.” Simon looked at him in surprise. He wouldn’t have thought Kyle, slacker-stoner bike messenger, would have known the word “lycanthropy,” much less how to pronounce it. But this was a very different Kyle—focused, intent, and direct. “For those of us who are turned by a bite, those first few years are key. The demon strain that causes lycanthropy causes a whole raft of other changes—waves of uncontrollable aggression, inability to control rage, suicidal anger and despair. The pack can help with that, but a lot of the newly infected aren’t lucky enough to fall in with a pack. They’re on their own, trying to deal with all this overwhelming stuff, and a lot of them turn violent—against others or against themselves. There’s a high suicide rate and a high rate of domestic violence.” He looked at Simon. “The same goes for vampires, except it can be even worse. An orphaned fledgling has literally no idea what’s happened to it. With no guidance, it doesn’t know how to feed safely, or even to stay out of sunlight. That’s where we come in.”

“And do what?” Simon asked.

“We track down ‘orphaned’ Downworlders—vampires and werewolves who’ve just been Turned and don’t know what they are yet. Sometimes even warlocks—some of them don’t realize what they are for years. We intervene, try to get them into a pack or a clan, try to help them control their powers.”

“Good Samaritans, aren’t you.” Jace’s eyes glittered.

“We are, actually.” Kyle sounded like he was trying to keep his voice neutral. “We intervene before the new Downworlder can get violent and hurt themselves or other people. I know what would have happened to me if it hadn’t been for the Guard. I’ve done bad things. Really bad.”

“How bad?” asked Jace. “Illegal bad?”

“Shut up, Jace,” said Simon. “You’re off duty, okay? Stop being a Shadowhunter for a second.” He turned to Kyle. “So how did you end up auditioning for my crappy band, then?”

“I didn’t realize you knew it was crappy.”

“Just answer the question.”

“We got a report of a new vampire—a Daylighter, living on his own, not with a clan. Your secret’s not as secret as you think. Fledgling vampires without a clan to help them can be very dangerous. I got dispatched to keep an eye on you.”

“So, what you’re saying,” said Simon, “is not just that you don’t want me to move out now that I know you’re a werewolf, but that you won’t let me move out?”

“Right,” said Kyle. “I mean, you can move out, but I’ll come with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” said Jace. “I can keep a perfectly good eye on Simon, thank you. He’s my neophyte Downworlder to mock and boss around, not yours.”

“Shut up!” Simon yelled. “Both of you. Neither of you were around when someone tried to kill me earlier today—”

“I was,” said Jace. “You know, eventually.”

Kyle’s eyes shone, like a wolf’s eyes at night. “Someone tried to kill you? What happened?”

Simon’s gaze met Jace’s across the room. A silent agreement not to mention the Mark of Cain passed between them. “Two days ago, and today, I was followed and attacked by some guys in gray tracksuits.”

“Humans?”

“We’re not sure.”

“And you have no idea what they want with you?”

“They definitely want me dead,” said Simon. “Beyond that, I don’t really know, no.”

“We have some leads,” said Jace. “We’ll be investigating.”

Kyle shook his head. “Fine. Whatever it is you’re not telling me, I’ll find out eventually.” He got to his feet. “And now, I’m beat. I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said to Simon. “You,” he said to Jace, “well, I guess I’ll see you around. You’re the first Shadowhunter I’ve ever met.”

“That’s too bad,” said Jace, “since all the ones you meet from now on will be a terrible letdown.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and left, banging his bedroom door shut behind him.

Simon looked at Jace. “You’re not going back to the Institute,” he said, “are you?”

Jace shook his head. “You need protecting. Who knows when someone might try to kill you again?”

“This avoiding Clary thing of yours has truly taken an epic turn,” Simon said, standing up. “Are you ever going home?”

Jace looked at him. “Are you?”