City of Lost Souls

As he came closer, he could see Raphael clearly. Simon had excellent night vision, and only Raphael’s skill at blending with the shadows had kept him hidden before. The other vampire was wearing a black suit, turned up at the cuffs to show the gleam of cuff links in the shape of chains. He still had the face of a little boy angel, though his gaze as he regarded Simon was cold. “When the head of the Manhattan vampire clan calls you, Lewis, you come.”


“And what would you do if I didn’t? Stake me?” Simon spread his arms wide. “Take a shot. Do whatever you want to me. Go nuts.”

“Dios, but you are boring,” said Raphael. Behind him, by the wall, Simon could see the chrome gleam of the vampire motorcycle he’d ridden to get here.

Simon lowered his arms. “You’re the one who asked me to meet you.”

“I have a job offer for you,” said Raphael.

“Seriously? You short-staffed at the hotel?”

“I need a bodyguard.”

Simon eyed him. “Have you been watching The Bodyguard? Because I am not going to fall in love with you and carry you around in my burly arms.”

Raphael looked at him sourly. “I would pay you extra money to remain entirely silent while you worked.”

Simon stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I would not bother coming to see you if I were not serious. If I were in a joking mood, I would spend that time with someone I liked.” Raphael sat back down in the armchair. “Camille Belcourt is free in the city of New York. The Shadowhunters are entirely caught up with this stupid business with Valentine’s son and will not be bothered to track her down. She represents an immediate danger to me, for she wishes to reassert her control of the Manhattan clan. Most are loyal to me. Killing me would be the fastest way for her to put herself back at the top of the hierarchy.”

“Okay,” Simon said slowly. “But why me?”

“You are a Daylighter. Others can protect me during the night, but you can protect me in the day, when most of our kind are helpless. And you carry the Mark of Cain. With you between me and her, she would not dare to strike at me.”

“That’s all true, but I’m not doing it.”

Raphael looked incredulous. “Why not?”

The words exploded out of Simon. “Are you kidding? Because you have never done one single thing for me in the entire time since I became a vampire. Instead you have done your level best to make my life miserable and then end it. So—if you want it in vampire language—it affords me great pleasure, my liege, to say to you now: Hell, no.”

“It is not wise for you to make an enemy of me, Daylighter. As friends—”

Simon laughed incredulously. “Wait a second. Were we friends? That was friends?”

Raphael’s fang teeth snapped out. He was very angry indeed, Simon realized. “I know why you refuse me, Daylighter, and it is not out of some pretended sense of rejection. You are so involved with the Shadowhunters, you think you are one of them. We have seen you with them. Instead of spending your nights in the hunt, as you should, you spend them with Valentine’s daughter. You live with a werewolf. You are a disgrace.”

“Do you act like this with every job interview?”

Raphael bared his teeth. “You must decide if you are a vampire or a Shadowhunter, Daylighter.”

“I’ll take Shadowhunter, then. Because from what I’ve experienced of vampires, you mostly suck. No pun intended.”

Raphael stood up. “You are making a grave mistake.”

“I already told you—”

The other vampire waved a hand, cutting him off. “There is a great darkness coming. It will sweep the Earth with fire and shadow, and when it is gone, there will be no more of your precious Shadowhunters. We, the Night Children, will survive it, for we live in darkness. But if you persist in denying what you are, you too will be destroyed, and none shall lift a hand to help you.”

Without thinking, Simon raised his hand to touch the Mark on his forehead.

Raphael laughed soundlessly. “Ah, yes, the Angel’s brand upon you. In the time of darkness even the angels will be destroyed. Their strength will not aid you. And you had better pray, Daylighter, that you do not lose that Mark before the war comes. For if you do, there will be a line of enemies waiting their turn to kill you. And I will be at the head of it.”



Clary had been lying on her back on Magnus’s sofa bed for a long time. She had heard her mother come down the hall and go into one of the other spare bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Through her own door she could hear Magnus and Alec talking in low voices in the living room. She supposed she could wait for them to go to sleep, but Alec had said Magnus had been up until all hours lately studying the runes; even though Brother Zachariah appeared to have interpreted them, she couldn’t trust that Alec and Magnus would retire soon.

She sat up on the bed next to Chairman Meow, who made a fuzzy noise of protest, and rummaged in her backpack. She drew out of it a clear plastic box and flipped it open. There were her Prismacolor pencils, some stumps of chalk—and her stele.