Regardless, there is precious little you can do about it. I wil not be dictated to, certainly not by some half-breed.” It was the Downworlders’ own insulting term for warlocks. “You are devoted to me; you have said so yourself. Your devotion wil simply have to suffer my diversions, and then we shal rub along quite pleasantly. If not, I shal drop you. I cannot imagine you want that.”
There was a little sneer in her voice as she spoke, and it snapped something inside Magnus. He recal ed the sick feeling in his throat when the letter had come from Saint Petersburg. And yet he had waited for her return, hoping she had an explanation. That she would apologize. Ask him to love her again. Now that he realized he was not worth that to her—that he never had been—a red mist passed before his eyes; he seemed to go mad momentarily, for it was the only explanation for what he did next.
“It doesn’t matter.” He rose to his feet. “I have Wil now.”
Her mouth opened. “You can’t be serious. A Shadowhunter?”
“You may be immortal, Camil e, but your feelings are vapid and shal ow. Wil ’s are not. He understands what it is to love.” Magnus, having delivered this insane speech with great dignity, stepped across the room and shook Wil ’s shoulder. “Wil . Wil iam. Wake up.”
Wil ’s hazy blue eyes opened. He was lying on his back, looking upward, and the first thing he saw was Camil e’s face as she bent over the back of the sofa, regarding him. He jerked upright. “By the Angel—”
“Oh, shush,” said Camil e lazily, smiling just enough to show the tips of baby fangs. “I won’t hurt you, Nephilim.”
Magnus hauled Wil to his feet. “The lady of the house,” he said, “has returned.”
“I see that.” Wil was flushed, the col ar of his shirt dark with sweat. “Delightful,” he said to no one in particular, and Magnus wasn’t sure whether he meant he was delighted to see Camil e, delighted with the effects of the painkil ing spel Magnus had used on him—certainly a possibility—or simply rambling.
“And therefore,” said Magnus, squeezing Wil ’s arm with a meaning pressure, “we must go.”
Wil blinked at him. “Go where?”
“Don’t worry about that right now, my love.”
Wil blinked again. “Pardon?” He glanced around, as if he half-expected people to be watching. “I—where’s my coat?”
“Ruined with blood,” said Magnus. “Archer disposed of it.” He nodded toward Camil e. “Wil ’s been hunting demons al night. So brave.”
Camil e’s expression was a mixture of amazement and annoyance.
“I am brave,” Wil said. He looked pleased with himself. The painkil ing tonics had enlarged his pupils, and his eyes looked very dark.
“Yes, you are,” Magnus said, and kissed him. It wasn’t the most dramatic kiss, but Wil flailed his free arm as if a bee had landed on him; Magnus had to hope Camil e would assume this was passion. When they broke apart, Wil looked stunned. So did Camil e, for that matter.
“Now,” Magnus said, hoping that Wil would recol ect that he was indebted to him. “We must go.”
“I—but—” Wil swung sideways. “The tooth!” He dashed across the room, retrieved it, and tucked it into Magnus’s waistcoat pocket. Then, with a wink at Camil e that, Magnus thought, God alone knew how she would interpret, he sauntered out of the room.
“Camil e,” Magnus began.
She had her arms crossed over her chest and was looking at him venomously. “Carrying on with Shadowhunters behind my back,” she said icily, and with no apparent regard for the hypocrisy of her position. “And in my own house! Real y, Magnus.” She pointed toward the door. “Please leave my residence and do not return. I trust I shal not have to ask you twice.”
Magnus was only too pleased to oblige. A few moments later he had joined Wil on the pavement outside the house, shrugging on his coat—al he now owned in the world besides what was in his pockets—and fastening the buttons against the chil y air. It would not be long, Magnus thought, before the first gray flush of morning lightened the sky.
“Did you just kiss me?” Wil inquired.
Magnus made a split-second decision. “No.”
“I thought—”
“On occasion the aftereffects of the painkil ing spel s can result in hal ucinations of the most bizarre sort.”
“Oh,” Wil said. “How peculiar.” He looked back at Camil e’s house. Magnus could see the window of the drawing room, the red velvet curtains drawn tight. “What are we going to do now? About summoning the demon? Have we somewhere to go?”
“I’ve got somewhere to go,” said Magnus, saying a prayer of silent thanks for Wil ’s single-minded fixation on demon summoning. “I have a friend I can stop with. You go along back to the Institute. I’l get to work on your blasted demon tooth as soon as I possibly can. I’l send a message to you when I know anything.”
Wil nodded slowly, then looked up at the black sky. “The stars,” he said. “I have never seen them so bright. The wind has blown off the fog, I think.”