City of Lost Souls

“Fortunately, he is already bound,” said Magnus. “If you summon him, his spirit form will come to you but his corporeal self will remain bound to the jagged rocks of Duduael.”


“The jagged rocks of… Oh, whatever,” Isabelle said, winding her long dark hair into a bun. “He’s the demon of weapons. Fine. I say we give it a go.”

“I can’t believe you’re even considering this,” said Jocelyn. “I learned from watching my husband what dabbling in raising demons can do. Clary—” She broke off then, as if sensing Simon’s gaze on her, and turned. “Simon,” she said, “do you know, is Clary awake yet? We’ve been letting her sleep, but it’s almost eleven.”

Simon hesitated. “I don’t know.” This, he reasoned, was true. Wherever Clary was, she could be asleep. Even though he had just talked to her.

Jocelyn looked puzzled. “But weren’t you in the room with her?”

“No, I wasn’t. I was—” Simon broke off, realizing the hole he’d just dug himself. There were three spare bedrooms. Jocelyn had been in one, Clary the other. Which would obviously mean he must have slept in the third room with—

“Isabelle?” said Alec, his eyebrows raised. “You slept in Isabelle’s room?”

Isabelle waved a hand. “No need to worry, big brother. Nothing happened. Of course,” she added as Alec’s shoulders relaxed, “I was totally passed-out drunk, so he could really have done whatever he wanted and I wouldn’t have woken up.”

“Oh, please,” said Simon. “All I did was tell you the entire plot of Star Wars.”

“I don’t think I remember that,” said Isabelle, taking a cookie from the plate on the table.

“Oh, yeah? Who was Luke Skywalker’s best childhood friend?”

“Biggs Darklighter,” Isabelle said immediately, and then hit the table with the flat of her hand. “That is so cheating!” Still, she grinned at him around her cookie.

“Ah,” said Magnus. “Nerd love. It is a beautiful thing, while also being an object of mockery and hilarity for those of us who are more sophisticated.”

“All right, that’s enough.” Jocelyn stood up. “I’m going to get Clary. If you’re going to raise a demon, I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want my daughter here either.” She headed toward the hallway.

Simon blocked her way. “You can’t do that,” he said.

Jocelyn looked at him with a set face. “I know you’re going to say that this is the safest place for us, Simon, but with a demon being raised, I just—”

“It’s not that.” Simon took a deep breath, which didn’t help, since his blood no longer processed oxygen. He felt slightly sick. “You can’t go wake her up because… because she isn’t here.”





10

THE WILD HUNT



Jordan’s old room at the Praetor House looked like any dormitory room at any college. There were two iron-framed beds, each set against a different wall. Through the window separating them green lawns were visible three floors down. Jordan’s side of the room was fairly bare—it looked as if he had taken most of his photographs and books with him to Manhattan—though there were some tacked-up pictures of beaches and the ocean, and a surfboard leaning against one wall. A little jolt went through Maia as she saw that on the bedside table was a gold-framed photo of her with Jordan, taken at Ocean City, the boardwalk and the beach behind them.

Jordan looked at the photograph and then at her, and blushed. He slung his bag onto his bed and stripped off his jacket, his back to her.

“When will your roommate be back?” she asked into the suddenly uncomfortable silence. She wasn’t sure why they were both embarrassed. They certainly hadn’t been when they’d been in the truck together, but now, here in Jordan’s space, the years they had spent not speaking seemed to press them apart.

“Who knows? Nick’s on assignment. They’re dangerous. He might not come back.” Jordan sounded resigned. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair. “Why don’t you lie down? I’m going to take a shower.” He headed for the bathroom, which, Maia was relieved to see, was attached to his room. She didn’t feel like dealing with one of those shared-bathroom-down-the-hall things.

“Jordan—,” she began, but he’d already closed the bathroom door behind him. She could hear water running. With a sigh she kicked off her shoes and lay down on the absent Nick’s bed. The blanket was dark blue plaid, and smelled like pinecones. She looked up and saw that the ceiling was wallpapered with photographs. The same laughing blond boy, who looked about seventeen, smiled down at her out of each picture. Nick, she guessed. He looked happy. Had Jordan been happy, here at the Praetor House?