City of Lost Souls

“I want you to find Jace Lightwood.”


In the silence that followed, the sound of the will-o’-the-wisps, crying in their agony, was softly audible. At last the Queen said, “You must think us powerful indeed if you believe the Fair Folk can succeed where the Clave has failed.”

“The Clave wants to find Sebastian. I don’t care about Sebastian. I want Jace,” Clary said. “Besides, I already know you know more than you’re letting on. You predicted this would happen. No one else knew, but I don’t believe you sent me that bell when you did—the same night Jace disappeared—without knowing something was brewing.”

“Perhaps I did,” said the Queen, admiring her shimmering toenails.

“I’ve noticed the Fair Folk often say ‘perhaps’ when there is a truth they want to hide,” Clary said. “It keeps you from having to give a straight answer.”

“Perhaps so,” said the Queen with an amused smile.

“‘Mayhap’ is a good word too,” Alec suggested.

“Also ‘perchance,’” Izzy said.

“I see nothing wrong with ‘maybe,’” said Simon. “A little modern, but the gist of the idea comes across.”

The Queen waved away their words as if they were annoying bees buzzing around her head. “I do not trust you, Valentine’s daughter,” she said. “There was a time I wanted a favor from you, but that time is over. Meliorn has his place on the Council. I am not sure there is anything you can offer me.”

“If you thought that,” said Clary, “you never would have sent the bell.”

For a moment their eyes locked. The Queen was beautiful, but there was something behind her face, something that made Clary think of the bones of a small animal, whitening in the sun. At last the Queen said, “Very well. I may be able to help you. But I will desire recompense.”

“Shocker,” Simon muttered. He had his hands jammed into his pockets and was looking at the Queen with loathing.

Alec laughed.

The Queen’s eyes flashed. A moment later Alec staggered back with a cry. He was holding his hands out before him, gaping, as the skin on them wrinkled and his hands curved inward, bent, the joints swollen. His back hunched, his hair graying, his blue eyes fading and sinking into deep wrinkles. Clary gasped. Where Alec had been, an old man, bent and white-haired, stood trembling.

“How swift mortal loveliness does fade,” the Queen gloated. “Look at yourself, Alexander Lightwood. I give you a glimpse of yourself in a mere threescore years. What will your warlock lover say then of your beauty?”

Alec’s chest was heaving. Isabelle stepped quickly to his side and took his arm. “Alec, it’s nothing. It’s a glamour.” She turned on the Queen. “Take it off him! Take it off!”

“If you and yours will speak to me with more respect, then I might consider it.”

“We will,” Clary said quickly. “We apologize for any rudeness.”

The Queen sniffed. “I rather miss your Jace,” she said. “Of all of you, he was the prettiest and the best-mannered.”

“We miss him too,” said Clary in a low voice. “We didn’t mean to be ill-mannered. We humans can be difficult in our grief.”

“Hmph,” said the Queen, but she snapped her fingers and the glamour fell from Alec. He was himself again, though white-faced and stunned-looking. The Queen shot him a superior look, and turned her attention to Clary.

“There is a set of rings,” said the Queen. “They belonged to my father. I desire the return of these objects, for they are faerie-made and possess great power. They allow us to speak to one another, mind to mind, as your Silent Brothers do. At present I have it on good authority that they are on display in the Institute.”

“I remember seeing something like that,” Izzy said slowly. “Two faerie-work rings in a glass case on the second floor of the library.”

“You want me to steal something from the Institute?” Clary said, surprised. Of all the favors she might have guessed the Queen would ask for, this one wasn’t high on the list.

“It is not theft,” said the Queen, “to return an item to its rightful owners.”

“And then you’ll find Jace for us?” said Clary. “And don’t say ‘perhaps.’ What will you do exactly?”

“I will assist you in finding him,” said the Queen. “I give you my word that my help would be invaluable. I can tell you, for instance, why all of your tracking spells have been for naught. I can tell you in what city he is most likely to be found—”

“But the Clave questioned you,” interrupted Simon. “How did you lie to them?”

“They never asked the correct questions.”

“Why lie to them?” demanded Isabelle. “Where is your allegiance in all this?”