City of Heavenly Fire

And then Clary was on her feet. Her mother reached for her, but she was already running down the sloping aisle between the rows of seats. The aisle turned into wooden steps; Clary clattered up them, past the Consul and Inquisitor, past Helen, and through the side door after Emma.

She nearly knocked over Aline, who was hovering near the open door, watching what was going on in the Council room and scowling. The scowl disappeared when she saw Clary, and was replaced by a look of surprise. “What are you doing?”

“The little girl,” Clary said breathlessly. “Emma. She ran back here.”

“I know. I tried to stop her, but she pulled away from me. She’s just . . .” Aline sighed and glanced at the Council room, where Jia had begun to question Julian again. “It’s been so hard on them, Helen and the others. You know their mother died, only a few years ago. All they’ve got now is an uncle in London.”

“Does that mean they’re going to move the kids to London? You know, when this is all over,” Clary said.

Aline shook her head. “Their uncle’s been offered the leadership of the Los Angeles Institute. I think the hope is that he’ll take over the job and raise the kids. I don’t think he’s agreed yet, though. He’s probably in shock. I mean, he lost his nephew, his brother—Andrew Blackthorn isn’t dead, but he might as well be. In a way, it’s worse.” Her voice was bitter.

“I know,” Clary said. “I know exactly what that’s like.”

Aline looked at her more closely. “I suppose you do know,” she said. “It’s just—Helen. I wish I could do more for her. She’s eating herself up with guilt because she was here with me and not in Los Angeles when the Institute was attacked. And she’s trying so hard, but she can’t be a mom to all those kids, and their uncle hasn’t gotten here yet, and then there’s Emma, Angel help her. She doesn’t even have a scrap of family left—”

“I’d like to talk to her. To Emma.”

Aline tucked a lock of hair behind her ear; the Blackthorn ring shimmered on her right hand. “She won’t talk to anyone but Julian.”

“Let me try,” Clary urged. “Please.”

Aline looked at the determined expression on Clary’s face and sighed. “Down the hall—the first room on the left.”

The hall curved away from the Council room. Clary could hear the voices of the Shadowhunters fading as she walked. The walls were smooth stone, lined with tapestries that depicted various glorious scenes from Shadowhunter history. The first door that appeared on her left was wooden, very plain. It was partly ajar, but she rapped quickly before opening it, so as not to surprise whoever was inside.

It was a simple room, with wooden wainscoting and a jumble of chairs, hastily assembled. It felt to Clary like a hospital waiting room. It had that heavy sense in the air, of an impermanent place where people spent their anxiety and grief in unfamiliar surroundings.

In the corner of the room was a chair propped against a wall, and in the chair was Emma. She looked smaller than she had from a distance. She was only wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and on her bare arms were Marks, the Voyance rune on her left hand—so she was left-handed like Jace—which lay on the hilt of an unsheathed shortsword lying across her lap. Up close Clary could see that her hair was a pale blonde, but tangled and dirty enough that it had looked darker. From between the tangles the girl glared up at Clary defiantly.

“What?” she said. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Clary said, pushing the door shut behind her. “Just to talk to you.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You want to use the Mortal Sword on me? Interrogate me?”

“No. I’ve had it used on me, and it’s awful. I’m sorry they’re using it on your friend. I think they should find another way.”

“I think they should trust him,” said Emma. “Julian doesn’t lie.” She looked at Clary challengingly, as if daring her to disagree.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Clary said, and took a step into the room—she felt as if she were trying not to frighten off some kind of wild creature in the forest. “Julian’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

Emma nodded.

“My best friend is a boy too. His name is Simon.”

“So where is he?” Emma’s eyes flicked behind Clary, as if she expected Simon to materialize suddenly.

“He’s in New York,” said Clary. “I miss him a lot.”

Emma looked as if this made enormous sense. “Julian went to New York once,” she said. “I missed him, so when he got back, I made him promise he wouldn’t go anywhere without me again.”

Clary smiled, and moved closer to Emma. “Your sword is beautiful,” she said, pointing at the blade across the girl’s lap.