City of Lost Souls

“Your cat is fine!” Simon reached to pick up the tabby, who jumped indignantly to his feet and stalked off the table. “See?”


“Whatever.” Magnus threw himself down in the seat at the head of the table; the mugs banged into place as Alec and Izzy straightened up, done with their task. Magnus clapped his hands. “Everyone! Gather around. It’s time for a meeting. I’m going to teach you how to summon a demon.”

Praetor Scott was waiting for them in the library, still in the same swivel chair, a small bronze box on the desk between them. Maia and Jordan sat down across from him, and Maia couldn’t help wondering if it was written all over her face, what she and Jordan had been doing. Not that the Praetor was looking at them with much interest.

He pushed the box toward Jordan. “It’s a salve,” he said. “If applied to Garroway’s wound, it should filter the poison from his blood and allow the demon steel to work its way free. He should heal in a few days.”

Maia’s heart leaped—finally some good news. She reached for the box before Jordan could, and opened it. It was indeed filled with a dark waxy salve that smelled sharply herbal, like crushed bay leaves.

“I—,” Praetor Scott began, his eyes flicking to Jordan.

“She should take it,” said Jordan. “She’s close to Garroway and is part of the pack. They trust her.”

“Are you saying they don’t trust the Praetor?”

“Half of them think the Praetor is a fairy tale,” Maia said, adding “sir” as an afterthought.

Praetor Scott looked annoyed, but before he could say anything, the phone on his desk rang. He seemed to hesitate, then lifted the receiver to his ear. “Scott here,” he said, and then, after a moment, “Yes—yes, I think so.” He hung up, his mouth curving into a not entirely pleasant smile. “Praetor Kyle,” he said. “I’m glad you dropped in on us today of all days. Stay a moment. This matter somewhat concerns you.”

Maia was startled at this pronouncement, but not as startled as she was a moment later when a corner of the room began to shimmer and a figure appeared, slowly developing—it was like watching images appear on film in a darkroom—and the figure of a young boy took shape. His hair was dark brown, short and straight, and a gold necklace gleamed against the brown skin of his throat. He looked slight and ethereal, like a choirboy, but there was something in his eyes that made him seem much older than that.

“Raphael,” she said, recognizing him. He was ever so slightly transparent—a Projection, she realized. She’d heard of them but had never seen one up close.

Praetor Scott looked at her in surprise. “You know the head of the New York vampire clan?”

“We met once, in Brocelind Woods,” said Raphael, looking her over without much interest. “She is a friend of the Daylighter, Simon.”

“Your assignment,” Praetor Scott said to Jordan, as if Jordan could have forgotten.

Jordan’s forehead creased. “Has something happened to him?” he asked. “Is he all right?”

“This is not about him,” said Raphael. “It is about the rogue vampire, Maureen Brown.”

“Maureen?” Maia exclaimed. “But she’s only, what, thirteen?”

“A rogue vampire is a rogue vampire,” said Raphael. “And Maureen has been cutting quite a swath for herself through TriBeCa and the Lower East Side. Multiple injured and at least six kills. We’ve managed to cover them up, but…”

“She’s Nick’s assignment,” said Praetor Scott with a frown. “But he hasn’t been able to find a trace of her. We may need to send in someone with more experience.”

“I urge you to do so,” said Raphael. “If the Shadowhunters were not so concerned with their own… emergency at this juncture, they would surely have involved themselves by now. And the last thing the clan needs after the affair with Camille is a censuring by the Shadowhunters.”

“I take it Camille is still missing as well?” said Jordan. “Simon told us everything that happened the night Jace disappeared, and Maureen seemed to be doing Camille’s bidding.”

“Camille is not new-made and is therefore not our concern,” said Scott.

“I know, but—find her, and you may find Maureen, that’s all I’m saying,” said Jordan.

“If she were with Camille, she would not be killing at the rate she is,” said Raphael. “Camille would prevent her. She is bloodthirsty but she knows the Conclave, and the Law. She would keep Maureen and her activities out of their line of sight. No, Maureen’s behavior has all the hallmarks of a vampire gone feral.”

“Then, I think you’re right.” Jordan sat back. “Nick should have backup in dealing with her, or—”

“Or something might happen to him? If it does, perhaps it will help you focus more in future,” said Praetor Scott. “On your own assignment.”