City of Lost Souls

An hour. Heart hammering, Clary threw the garment across the bed, where it glimmered like chain mail. When she turned back, he was still in the doorway, a half smile on his face, as if he intended to wait there while she changed.

She moved to shut the door. He caught her wrist. “Tonight,” he said, “you call me Jonathan. Jonathan Morgenstern. Your brother.”

A shudder ran over her whole body, and she dropped her eyes, hoping he couldn’t see the hatred in them. “Whatever you say.”

The moment he was gone she reached for one of Jace’s leather jackets. She slipped it on, taking comfort in the warmth and the familiar smell of him. She slid her feet into shoes and crept out into the hallway, wishing for a stele and a new Soundless rune. She could hear water running downstairs and Sebastian’s off-key whistling, but her own footsteps still sounded like cannon explosions in her ears. She crept along, keeping close to the wall, until she reached Sebastian’s door and slid inside.

It was dim, the only illumination the ambient city light coming from the windows, whose curtains were pulled back. It was a mess, just as it had been the first time she’d been in it. She started with his closet, stuffed full of expensive clothes—silk shirts, leather jackets, Armani suits, Bruno Magli shoes. On the floor of the closet was a white shirt, wadded up and stained with blood—blood old enough to have dried to brown. Clary looked at it for a long moment and shut the closet door.

She set herself to the desk next, pulling out drawers, rifling through papers. She’d rather hoped for something simple, like a lined piece of notebook paper with MY EVIL PLAN written across the top, but no luck. There were dozens of papers with complex numerical and alchemical figuring on them, and even a piece of stationery that began My beautiful one in Sebastian’s cramped handwriting. She spared a moment to wonder who on earth Sebastian’s beautiful one could be—she hadn’t thought of him as someone who ever had romantic feelings about anyone—before turning to the nightstand by his bed.

She pulled open the drawer. Inside was a stack of notes. On top of them, something glimmered. Something circular and metallic.

Her faerie ring.



Isabelle sat with her arm around Simon as they drove back toward Brooklyn. He was exhausted, his head throbbing, his body pierced with aches. Though Magnus had given him back his ring at the lake, he had been unable to reach Clary with it. Worst of all, he was hungry. He liked how close Isabelle was sitting to him, the way she rested her hand just above the crook of his elbow, tracing patterns there, sometimes sliding her fingers down to his wrist. But the scent of her—perfume and blood—made his stomach growl.

It was starting to grow dark outside, the late-autumn sunset coming soon on the heels of the day, dimming the interior of the truck’s cab. Alec’s and Magnus’s voices were murmurs in the shadows. Simon let his eyes flutter closed, seeing the Angel printed against the back of his lids, a burst of white light.

Simon! Clary’s voice exploded inside his head, jerking him instantly awake. Are you there?

A sharp gasp escaped his lips. Clary? I was so worried—

Sebastian took my ring away from me. Simon, there may not be much time. I have to tell you. They have a second Mortal Cup. They plan to raise Lilith and create an army of dark Shadowhunters—ones with the same power as the Nephilim but allied to the demon world.

“You’re kidding me,” Simon said. It took him a moment to realize he’d spoken aloud; Isabelle stirred against him, and Magnus looked over curiously.

“You all right there, vampire?”

“It’s Clary,” Simon said. All three of them looked at him with identical astonished expressions. “She’s trying to talk to me.” He slapped his hands over his ears, slumping down in his seat and trying to concentrate on her words. When are they going to do it?

Tonight. Soon. I don’t know where we are exactly—but it’s about ten p.m. here.

Then you’re about five hours ahead of us. Are you in Europe?

I can’t even guess. Sebastian mentioned something called the Seventh Sacred Site. I don’t know what that is, but I’ve found some of his notes and apparently it’s an ancient tomb. It looks like a sort of doorway, and demons can be summoned through it.

Clary, I’ve never heard of anything like that—

But Magnus or the others might. Please, Simon. Tell them as quickly as you can. Sebastian’s going to ressurrect Lilith. He wants war, a total war with the Shadowhunters. He has about forty or fifty Nephilim ready to follow him. They’ll be there. Simon, he wants to burn the world down. We have to do anything we can to stop him.

If things are that dangerous, you need to get yourself out of there.

She sounded tired. I’m trying. But it might be too late.