City of Lost Souls

The demon licked his lips. “The solution to your problem is this. You release me into the world, and I take Valentine’s son and bring him living into Hell. He will not die, and therefore your Jace will live, but he will have left this world behind, and slowly their connection will burn away. You will have your friend back.”


“And then what?” Magnus said slowly. “We release you into the world, and then you return and let yourself be bound again?”

Azazel laughed. “Of course not, foolish warlock. The price for the favor is my freedom.”

“Freedom?” Alec spoke, sounding incredulous. “A Prince of Hell, set free in the world? We already gave you our memories—”

“The memories were the price you paid to hear my plan,” said Azazel. “My freedom is what you will pay to have my plan enacted.”

“That is a cheat, and you know it,” said Magnus. “You ask for the impossible.”

“So do you,” said Azazel. “By all rights your friend is lost to you forever. ‘For if a man vow a vow unto the Lord, or swear an oath to bind his soul with a bond, he shall not break his word.’ And by the terms of Lilith’s spell, their souls are bound, and both agreed.”

“Jace would never agree—,” Alec began.

“He said the words,” said Azazel. “Of his own will or under compunction, it does not matter. You are asking me to sever a bond only Heaven can sever. But Heaven will not help you; you know that as well as I. That is why men summon demons and not angels, is it not? This is the price you pay for my intervention. If you do not want to pay it, you must learn to accept what you’ve lost.”

Magnus’s face was pale and tight. “We will converse among ourselves and discuss whether your offer is acceptable. In the meantime I banish you.” He waved his hand, and Azazel vanished, leaving behind the smell of charred wood.

The four people in the room stared at one another incredulously. “What he is asking for,” Alec said finally, “it isn’t possible, is it?”

“Theoretically anything is possible,” said Magnus, staring ahead as if into an abyss. “But to loose a Greater Demon on the world—not just a Greater Demon, a Prince of Hell, second only to Lucifer himself—the destruction he could wreak—”

“Isn’t it possible,” Isabelle said, “that Sebastian could wreak just as much destruction?”

“Like Magnus said,” Simon put in bitterly, “anything’s possible.”

“There could be almost no greater crime in the eyes of the Clave,” said Magnus. “Whoever loosed Azazel upon the world would be a wanted criminal.”

“But if it were to destroy Sebastian…” Isabelle began.

“We don’t have proof Sebastian’s plotting anything,” said Magnus. “For all we know, all he wants is to settle down in a nice country house in Idris.”

“With Clary and Jace?” Alec said incredulously.

Magnus shrugged. “Who knows what he wants with them? Maybe he’s just lonely.”

“No way did he kidnap Jace off that roof because he’s desperately in need of a bromance,” said Isabelle. “He’s planning something.”

They all looked at Simon. “Clary’s trying to find out what. She needs some time. And don’t say ‘We don’t have time,’” he added. “She knows that.”

Alec raked a hand through his dark hair. “Fine, but we just wasted a whole day. A day we didn’t have. No more stupid ideas.” His voice was uncharacteristically sharp.

“Alec,” Magnus said. He put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder; Alec was standing still, staring angrily at the floor. “Are you okay?”

Alec looked at him. “Who are you again?”

Magnus gave a little gasp; he looked—for the first time Simon could remember—actually unnerved. It lasted only a moment, but it was there. “Alexander,” he said.

“Too soon to joke about the happy memory thing, I take it,” Alec said.

“You think?” Magnus’s voice soared. Before he could say anything else, the door swung open and Maia and Jordan came in. Their cheeks were red from the cold, and—Simon saw with a small start—Maia was wearing Jordan’s leather jacket.

“We just came from the station,” she said excitedly. “Luke hasn’t woken up yet, but it looks like he’s going to be all right—” She broke off, looking around at the still-glimmering pentagram, the clouds of black smoke, and the scorched patches on the floor. “Okay, what have you guys been doing?”

With the help of a glamour and Jace’s ability to swing himself one-armed up onto a curving old bridge, Clary and Jace escaped the Italian police without being arrested. Once they had stopped running, they collapsed against the side of a building, laughing, side by side, their hands interlinked. Clary felt a moment of pure sharp happiness and had to bury her head against Jace’s shoulder, reminding herself, in a hard internal voice, that this wasn’t him, before her laughter trailed off into silence.