City of Lost Souls

“Funny, isn’t it?” said Sebastian. “The lies good people tell. He’ll probably make you eggs every day for the rest of your life now, and you’ll choke them down because you can’t tell him you don’t like them.”


Clary thought of the Seelie Queen. “Love makes liars of us all?”

“Exactly. Quick study, aren’t you?” He took a step toward her, and an anxious tingle seared her nerves. He was wearing the same cologne Jace wore. She recognized the citrusy black-pepper scent, but on him it smelled different. Wrong, somehow. “We have that in common,” Sebastian said, and began to unbutton his shirt.

She stood up hastily. “What are you doing?”

“Easy there, little sis.” He popped the last button, and his shirt hung open. He smiled lazily. “You’re the magical rune girl, aren’t you?”

Clary nodded slowly.

“I want a strength rune,” he said. “And if you’re the best, I want it from you. You wouldn’t deny your big brother a rune, would you?” His dark eyes raked her. “Besides, you want me to give you a chance.”

“And you want me to give you a chance,” she said. “So I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a strength rune if you let me come with you on your errand.”

He stripped the shirt the rest of the way off and dropped it onto the counter. “Deal.”

“I don’t have a stele.” She didn’t want to look at him, but it was hard not to. He seemed to be deliberately invading her personal space. His body was much like Jace’s—hard, without any extra ounce of flesh anywhere, the muscles showing clearly under the skin. He was scarred like Jace too, though he was so pale that the white marks stood out less than they did against Jace’s golden skin. On her brother they were like silver pen on white paper.

He drew a stele from his belt and handed it to her. “Use mine.”

“All right,” she said. “Turn around.”

He did. And she swallowed back a gasp. His bare back was striped with ragged scars, one after the other, too even to be random accident.

Whip marks.

“Who did this to you?” she said.

“Who do you think? Our father,” he said. “He used a whip made of demon metal, so no iratze could heal them. They’re meant to remind me.”

“Remind you of what?”

“Of the perils of obedience.”

She touched one. It felt hot under her fingertips, as if newly made, and rough, where the skin around it was smooth. “Don’t you mean ‘disobedience’?”

“I mean what I said.”

“Do they hurt?”

“All the time.” Impatiently he glanced back over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing.” She set the tip of the stele to his shoulder blade, trying to keep her hand steady. Part of her mind raced, thinking how easy it would be to Mark him with something that would damage him, sicken him, twist his insides—but what would happen to Jace if she did? Shaking her hair out of her face, she carefully drew the Fortis rune at the juncture of shoulder blade and back, just where, if he were an angel, he would have wings.

When she was done, he turned and took the stele from her, then shrugged his shirt back on. She didn’t expect a thank-you—and didn’t get one. He rolled his shoulders back as he buttoned the shirt, and grinned. “You are good,” he said, but that was all.

A moment later the steps rattled, and Jace returned, shrugging on a suede jacket. He had clipped on his weapons belt too, and wore fingerless dark gloves.

Clary smiled at him with a warmth she didn’t feel. “Sebastian says I can come with you.”

Jace raised his eyebrows. “Matching haircuts for everyone?”

“I hope not,” said Sebastian. “I look terrible with curls.”

Clary glanced down at herself. “Do I need to change into gear?”

“Not really. This isn’t the sort of errand where we’re expecting to have to fight. But it’s good to be prepared. I’ll get you something from the weapons room,” said Sebastian, and vanished upstairs. Clary cursed herself silently for not having found the weapons room while she was searching. Surely it had something inside that could provide some sort of clue as to what they were planning—

Jace touched the side of her face, and she jumped. She’d nearly forgotten he was there. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely. I’m going stir-crazy in the house. Besides, you taught me to fight. I figure you’d want me to use it.”

His lips quirked into a devilish grin; he brushed her hair back and murmured something into her ear about using what she’d learned from him. He leaned away as Sebastian joined them, his own jacket on and a weapons belt in his hand. There was a dagger thrust through it, and a seraph blade. He reached out to draw Clary close to him and pulled the belt around her waist, double-looping it and settling it low on her hips. She was too surprised to push him away and he was done before she had the chance; turning away, he moved toward the wall, where the outline of a doorway had appeared, shimmering like a doorway in a dream.

They stepped through it.