City of Lost Souls

Sebastian said something in Czech, and the man nodded and indicated Clary and Jace with a jerk of his chin and a suspicious look. His eyes were, Clary saw, a dark red color. She narrowed her own eyes, concentrating hard, and began to strip the glamour from him.

It wasn’t easy; it seemed to stick to him like flypaper. In the end she managed to pull it away only enough to see in flashes the real creature standing in front of her—tall and human-shaped, with gray skin and ruby-red eyes, a mouth full of pointed teeth that jutted every which way, and long, serpentine arms that ended in heads like an eel’s—narrow, evil-looking, and toothy.

“A Vetis demon,” Jace muttered in her ear. “They’re like dragons. They like to stockpile sparkly things. Junk, jewels, it’s all the same to them.”

Sebastian was looking back over his shoulder at Jace and Clary. “They’re my brother and sister,” he said after a moment. “They are entirely to be trusted, Mirek.”

A faint shudder ran under Clary’s skin. She didn’t like the idea of posing as Jace’s sister, even for a demon’s benefit.

“I don’t like this,” the Vetis demon said. “You said we would be dealing only with you, Morgenstern. And while I know Valentine had a daughter”—his head dipped toward Clary—“I also know he had only one son.”

“He’s adopted,” said Sebastian breezily, gesturing toward Jace.

“Adopted?”

“I think you’ll find the definition of the modern family is really changing at an impressive pace these days,” said Jace.

The demon—Mirek—didn’t look impressed. “I don’t like this,” he said again.

“But you’ll like this,” said Sebastian, taking a pouch, tied at the top, from his pocket. He turned it upside down above the counter, and a clattering pile of bronze coins fell out, clinking together as they rolled across the glass. “Pennies from dead men’s eyes. A hundred of them. Now, do you have what we agreed on?”

One toothed hand felt its way across the counter and bit gently at a coin. The demon’s red eyes flickered over the pile. “That is all very well, but it is not enough to buy what you seek.” He gestured with an undulating arm, and above it appeared what looked to Clary like a hunk of rock crystal—only it was more luminous, more sheer, silvery, and beautiful. She realized with a jolt that it was the stuff seraph blades were made from. “Pure adamas,” Mirek said. “The stuff of Heaven. Priceless.”

Anger crackled across Sebastian’s face like lightning, and for a moment Clary saw the vicious boy underneath, the one who had laughed while Hodge lay dying. Then the look was gone. “But we agreed on a price.”

“We also agreed you would come alone,” said Mirek. His red eyes returned to Clary, and to Jace, who hadn’t moved but whose aspect had taken on the controlled stillness of a crouching cat’s. “I’ll tell you what else you can give me,” he said. “A lock of your sister’s pretty hair.”

“Fine,” Clary said, stepping forward. “You want a snip of my hair—”

“No!” Jace moved to block her. “He’s a dark magician, Clary. You have no idea what he could do with a lock of your hair or a bit of blood.”

“Mirek,” Sebastian said slowly, not looking at Clary. And in that moment she wondered, If Sebastian wanted to trade a lock of her hair for the adamas, what was to stop him? Jace had objected, but he was also compelled to do what Sebastian asked of him. In the crunch, what would win out? The compulsion or Jace’s feelings for her? “Absolutely not.”

The demon blinked a slow lizardlike blink. “Absolutely not?”

“You will not touch a hair on my sister’s head,” said Sebastian. “Nor will you renege on our bargain. No one cheats Valentine Morgenstern’s son. The agreed upon price, or—”

“Or what?” Mirek snarled. “Or I’ll be sorry? You are not Valentine, little boy. Now, that was a man who inspired loyalty—”

“No,” said Sebastian, sliding a seraph blade from the belt at his waist. “I am not Valentine. I do not intend to deal with demons as Valentine did. If I cannot have your loyalty, I will have your fear. Know that I am more powerful than my father ever was, and if you do not deal fairly with me, I will take your life, and have what I have come for.” He raised the blade he held. “Dumah,” he whispered, and the blade shot forth, shimmering like a column of fire.

The demon recoiled, snapping several words in a muddy-sounding language. Jace’s hand already had a dagger in it. He called out to Clary, but not fast enough. Something struck her hard on the shoulder, and she fell forward, sprawling on the cluttered floor. She flipped over onto her back, fast, looked up—

And screamed. Looming over her was a massive snake—or at least it had a thick, scaled body and a head hooded like a cobra’s, but its body was jointed, insectile, with a dozen skittering legs that ended in jagged claws. Clary fumbled for her weapons belt as the creature reared back, yellow venom dripping from its fangs, and struck.