“Even the mundanes knew to stay away from the place and let it rot. I hate that some of my little ones live in rotten places, but it’s dark. It’s safe.”
It was too difficult to talk and walk, so she fell silent again and leaned against Magnus’s chest. When they reached the top floor, they stood against the rail and looked down at the wreckage of the hotel lobby.
“It never really went away for us, did it?” she said. “There’s really never been another—not like you. Is it the same for you?”
“Camille . . .”
“I know we can’t go back. I know. Just tell me there’s never been another like me.”
In truth there had been many others. And while Camille was certainly in a class by herself, there had been much love—at least on Magnus’s part. Yet there was a hundred years of pain in that question, and Magnus had to wonder if maybe he had not been so alone in his feeling.
“No,” Magnus said. “There’s never been another like you.”
She seemed to gain some strength from that.
“It was never meant to happen,” she said. “There was a club downtown where some of the mundanes enjoyed getting bitten. They had the drugs in their system. They are quite powerful, these substances. It just took hold. I was given some of the infected blood to drink as a gift. I didn’t know what I was drinking—I only knew what effect it had. I didn’t know we were capable of addiction. We didn’t know.”
Magnus looked at the char on the ceiling. Old wounds. Nothing ever really went away.
“I will . . . I will make the command,” she said. “What happened here will never happen again. You have my word.”
“It’s not me you have to tell.”
“Tell the Praetor,” she replied. “Tell the Shadowhunters if you must. It will not happen again. I’ll forfeit my life before I allow it.”
“It’s probably best you speak to Lincoln.”
“Then I will speak to him.”
The mantle of dignity had returned to her shoulders. Despite all that had happened, she was still Camille Belcourt.
“You should leave now,” she said. “This isn’t for you anymore.”
Magnus wavered for a moment. Something—some part of him wanted to remain. But he found that he was already walking down the steps.
“Magnus,” Camille called.
He turned.
“Thank you for lying to me. You have always been kind. I never have been. That was why we couldn’t be, wasn’t it?”
Without replying, Magnus turned and continued down the stairs. Raphael Santiago passed him on the way up.
“I am sorry,” Raphael said.
“Where have you been?”
“When I saw what was happening, I tried to stop them. Camille attempted to make me drink some of the blood. She wanted everyone in her inner circle to participate. She was sick. I have seen such things before and knew how they would end. So I went away. I returned when a vial of my grave soil was broken.”
“I never saw you enter the hotel,” Magnus said.
“I entered through a broken basement window. I thought it was best to remain hidden for a while. I have been caring for the sick. It has been very unpleasant, but . . .”
He looked up, past Magnus’s shoulder, in Camille’s direction.
“I must go now. We have much to do here. Go, Magnus. There’s nothing for you here.”
Raphael had always been able to read Magnus a little too well.
Magnus made his decision when he was in the cab going home. Once he got inside his apartment, he prepared without hesitation, gathering everything he would need. He would need to be very specific. He would write it all down.
Then he called Catarina. He drank some wine while he waited for her to arrive.
Catarina was perhaps Magnus’s truest and closest friend, aside from Ragnor (and that relationship was often in a state of flux). Catarina was the only one who’d gotten any letters or calls while he’d been on his two-year trip. He hadn’t, however, actually told her he was home.
“Really?” she said when he opened the door. “Two years, and then you come back and don’t even call for two weeks? And then it’s, ‘Come over, I need you’? You didn’t even tell me you were home, Magnus.”
“I’m home,” he said, giving what he considered to be his most winning smile. The smiling took a bit of effort, but hopefully it looked genuine.
“Don’t even try that face with me. I am not one of your conquests, Magnus. I am your friend. We are supposed to get pizza, not do the nasty.”
“The nasty? But I—”
“Don’t.” She held up a warning finger. “I mean it. I almost didn’t come. But you sounded so pathetic on the phone that I had to.”
Magnus examined her rainbow T-shirt and pair of red overalls. Both of these stood out strongly against her blue skin. The contrast hurt Magnus’s eyes. He decided not to comment on her attire. The red overalls were very popular. It was just that most people weren’t blue. Most people did not live the rainbow.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Seriously, Magnus—”
“Let me explain,” he said. “Then yell at me if you want.”