City of Heavenly Fire

Matthias let out a roar and staggered back, his hand bleeding. Jia darted away from him as he dived for his fallen blade. Clary heard Jace call out “Nakir!” He had drawn a seraph blade from his belt and its light illuminated the hall. “Get out of my way!” he shouted, and began to shoulder his way down the steps, toward the dais.

“No!” Alec, dropping his bow, flung himself over the back of the row of benches, and dived on top of Jace, knocking him to the ground just as the dais went up in flames like a bonfire doused with gasoline. Jia cried out and leaped from the platform into the crowd; Kadir caught her and lowered her gently as all the Shadowhunters turned to stare at the rising flames.

“What the hell,” Simon whispered, his fingers still clasped around Clary’s arm. She could see Matthias, a black shadow at the heart of the flames. They were clearly not harming him; he seemed to be laughing, throwing up his arms over and over as if he were a conductor directing an orchestra of fire. The room was full of shrieks and the stink and crackle of burning wood. Aline had run to clutch at her bleeding mother, weeping; Helen was watching helplessly as, along with Julian, she tried to shield the younger Blackthorns from what was happening below.

No one was shielding Emma, though. She was standing apart from the group, her small face white with shock as, over the already horrible sounds filling the room, Matthias’s cries pierced the din: “Two days, Nephilim! You have two days to decide your fate! And then you will all burn! You will burn in the fires of Hell, and the ashes of Edom will cover your bones!”

His voice rose to an unearthly shriek and was suddenly silenced, as the flames dropped away and he disappeared along with them. The last of the embers licked across the floor, their glowing tips barely touching the message still scrawled in ichor across the dais.

Veni.

I HAVE COME.



It had taken Maia two minutes of deep breathing outside the apartment door before she could bring herself to slide the key into the lock.

Everything in the hallway seemed normal, eerily so. Jordan’s coats, and Simon’s, hung on pegs in the narrow entranceway. The walls were decorated with street signs bought from flea markets.

She moved into the living room, which seemed frozen in time: The TV was on, the screen showing dark static, the two game controllers still on the couch. They’d forgotten to turn off the coffeepot. She went and flipped the switch, trying as hard as she could to ignore all the pictures of herself and Jordan stuck to the fridge: them on the Brooklyn Bridge, drinking coffee at the Waverly Place diner, Jordan laughing and showing off his fingernails, which Maia had painted blue and green and red. She hadn’t realized how many pictures he’d taken of them, as if he’d been trying to record every second of their interactions, lest they slip through his memories like water.

She had to steel herself again before she could go into the bedroom. The bed was still mussed and untucked—Jordan had never been particularly neat—his clothes scattered around the room. Maia went across the room to the bureau where she’d kept her own belongings and stripped off Leila’s clothes.

With relief she threw on her own jeans and T-shirt. She was reaching to pull out a coat when the doorbell rang.

Jordan had kept his weapons, issued to him by the Praetor, in the trunk at the foot of the bed. She flung the trunk open and scooped up a heavy iron vial with a cross carved into the front.

She flung on her coat and stalked into the living room, the vial in her pocket, her fingers wrapped around it. She reached out and yanked the front door open.

The girl who stood on the other side had dark hair falling sheer to her shoulders. Against it her skin was dead white, her lips dark red. She wore a severely tailored black suit; she was a modern Snow White in blood, char, and ice. “You called me,” she said. “Jordan Kyle’s girlfriend, am I correct?”

Lily—she’s one of the smartest of the vampire clan. Knows everything. She and Raphael were always thick as thieves.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Lily,” Maia snapped. “You’ve been here before; I’m pretty sure you grabbed Simon from this apartment for Maureen.”

“And?” Lily crossed her arms, making her expensive suit crackle. “Are you going to invite me in, or not?”

“I’m not,” said Maia. “We’re going to talk here, in the hallway.”

“Dull.” Lily leaned back against the wall with its peeling paint, and made a face. “Why did you summon me here, werewolf?”

“Maureen is crazy,” said Maia. “Raphael and Simon are gone. Sebastian Morgenstern is murdering Downworlders to make a point to the Nephilim. And maybe it’s time for the vampires and lycanthropes to talk. Even to ally.”

“Well, aren’t you as cute as a bug’s ear,” Lily said, and stood up straight. “Look, Maureen’s crazy, but she’s still the clan leader. And I can tell you one thing. She isn’t going to parley with some jumped-up pack member who’s lost the plot because her boyfriend died.”