City of Lost Souls

“Wouldn’t you do anything for the people you love?”


“I’d do almost anything for you,” Simon said quietly. “I’d die for you. You know that. But would I kill someone else, someone innocent? What about a lot of innocent lives? What about the whole world? Is it really love to tell someone that if it came down to picking between them and every other life on the planet, you’d pick them? Is that—I don’t know, is that a moral sort of love at all?”

“Love isn’t moral or immoral,” said Clary. “It just is.”

“I know,” Simon said. “But the actions we take in the name of love, those are moral or immoral. And normally it wouldn’t matter. Normally—whatever I think of Jace being annoying—he’d never ask you to do anything that went against your nature. Not for him, not for anyone. But he isn’t exactly Jace anymore, is he? And I just don’t know, Clary. I don’t know what he might ask you to do.”

Clary leaned her elbow on the table, suddenly very tired. “Maybe he isn’t Jace. But he’s the closest thing to Jace I’ve got. There’s no way back to Jace without him.” She raised her eyes to Simon’s. “Or are you telling me it’s hopeless?”

There was a long silence. Clary could see Simon’s innate honesty warring with his desire to protect his best friend. Finally he said, “I’d never say that. I’m still Jewish, you know, even if I am a vampire. In my heart I remember and believe, even the words I can’t say. G—” He choked and swallowed. “He made a covenant with us, just like the Shadowhunters believe Raziel made a covenant with them. And we believe in his promises. Therefore you can never lose hope—hatikva—because if you keep hope alive, it will keep you alive.” He looked faintly embarrassed. “My rabbi used to say that.”

Clary slid her hand across the table and laid it atop Simon’s. He rarely talked about his religion with her or anyone, though she knew he believed. “Does that mean you agree?”

He groaned. “I think it means you crushed my spirit and beat me down.”

“Fantastic.”

“Of course you realize you’re leaving me in the position of being the one to tell everyone—your mother, Luke, Alec, Izzy, Magnus…”

“I guess I shouldn’t have said there would be no risk to you,” Clary said meekly.

“That’s right,” said Simon. “Just remember, when your mother’s gnawing my ankle like a furious mama bear separated from her cub, I did it for you.”

Jordan had only just fallen back asleep when the banging on the front door came again. He rolled over and groaned. The clock by the bed said 4:00 a.m. in blinking yellow numbers.

More banging. Jordan rolled reluctantly to his feet, dragged on his jeans, and staggered out into the hallway. Blearily he jerked the door open. “Look—”

The words died on his lips. Standing in the hallway was Maia. She was wearing jeans and a caramel-colored leather jacket, and her hair was pulled up behind her head with bronze chopsticks. A single loose curl fell against her temple. Jordan’s fingers itched to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. Instead he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Nice shirt,” she said with a dry glance at his bare chest. There was a backpack slung over one of her shoulders. For a moment his heart jumped. Was she leaving town? Was she leaving town to get away from him? “Look, Jordan—”

“Who is it?” The voice behind Jordan was husky, as rumpled as the bed she’d probably just climbed out of. He saw Maia’s mouth drop open, and he looked back over his shoulder to see Isabelle, wearing only one of Simon’s Tshirts, standing behind him and rubbing at her eyes.

Maia’s mouth snapped shut. “It’s me,” she said in a not particularly friendly tone. “Are you… visiting Simon?”

“What? No, Simon’s not here.” Shut up, Isabelle, Jordan thought frantically. “He’s…” She gestured vaguely. “Out.”

Maia’s cheeks reddened. “It smells like a bar in here.”

“Jordan’s cheap tequila,” said Isabelle with a wave of her hand. “You know…”

“Is that his shirt, too?” Maia inquired.

Isabelle glanced down at herself, and then back up at Maia. Belatedly she seemed to realize what the other girl was thinking. “Oh. No. Maia—”

“So first Simon cheated on me with you, and now you and Jordan—”

“Simon,” Isabelle said, “also cheated on me with you. Anyway, nothing’s going on with me and Jordan. I came over to see Simon, but he wasn’t here so I decided to crash in his room. And I’m going back in there now.”

“No,” Maia said sharply. “Don’t. Forget about Simon and Jordan. What I have to say, it’s something you need to hear too.”

Isabelle froze, one hand on Simon’s door, her sleep-flushed face slowly paling. “Jace,” she said. “Is that why you’re here?”

Maia nodded.