Magnus nodded. “He has returned.”
Jace regarded the small tabby kitten with some scorn. “That’s not a cat,” he observed. “It’s the size of a hamster.”
“I am kindly going to forget you said that,” said Magnus, using his foot to nudge Chairman Meow behind him. “Now, exactly what did you come here for?”
Clary held out the torn pack. “It’s Simon. He’s missing.”
“Ah,” said Magnus, delicately, “missing what, exactly?”
“Missing,” Jace repeated, “as in gone, absent, notable for his lack of presence, disappeared.”
“Maybe he’s gone and hidden under something,” Magnus suggested. “It can’t be easy getting used to being a rat, especially for someone so dim-witted in the first place.”
“Simon’s not dim-witted,” Clary protested angrily.
“It’s true,” Jace agreed. “He just looks dim-witted. Really his intelligence is quite average.” His tone was light but his shoulders were tense as he turned to Magnus. “When we were leaving, one of your guests brushed up against Clary. I think he tore her bag open and took the rat. Simon, I mean.”
Magnus looked at him. “And?”
“And I need to find out who it was,” said Jace steadily. “I’m guessing you know. You are the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I’m thinking not much happens in your own apartment that you don’t know about.”
Magnus inspected a glittery nail. “You’re not wrong.”
“Please tell us,” Clary said. Jace’s hand tightened on her wrist. She knew he wanted her to be quiet, but that was impossible. “Please.”
Magnus dropped his hand with a sigh. “Fine. I saw one of the vampire bike kids from the uptown lair leave with a brown rat in his hands. Honestly, I figured it was one of their own. Sometimes the Night Children turn into rats or bats when they get drunk.”
Clary’s hands were shaking. “But now you think it was Simon?”
“It’s just a guess, but it seems likely.”
“There’s one more thing.” Jace spoke calmly enough, but he was on alert now, the way he had been in the apartment before they’d found the Forsaken. “Where’s their lair?”
“Their what?”
“The vampires’ lair. That’s where they went, isn’t it?”
“I would imagine so.” Magnus looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else.
“I need you to tell me where it is.”
Magnus shook his turbaned head. “I’m not setting myself on the bad side of the Night Children for a mundane I don’t even know.”
“Wait,” Clary interrupted. “What would they want with Simon? I thought they weren’t allowed to hurt people …”
“My guess?” said Magnus, not unkindly. “They assumed he was a tame rat and thought it would be funny to kill a Shadowhunter’s pet. They don’t like you much, whatever the Accords might say—and there’s nothing in the Covenant about not killing animals.”
“They’re going to kill him?” Clary said, staring.
“Not necessarily,” said Magnus hastily. “They might have thought he was one of their own.”
“In which case, what’ll happen to him?” Clary said.
“Well, when he turns back into a human, they’ll still kill him. But you might have a few more hours.”
“Then you have to help us,” Clary said to the warlock. “Otherwise Simon will die.”
Magnus looked her up and down with a sort of clinical sympathy. “They all die, dear,” he said. “You might as well get used to it.”
He began to shut the door. Jace stuck out a foot, wedging it open. Magnus sighed. “What now?”
“You still haven’t told us where the lair is,” Jace said.
“And I’m not going to. I told you—”
It was Clary who cut him off, pushing herself in front of Jace. “You messed with my brain,” she said. “Took my memories. Can’t you do this one thing for me?”
Magnus narrowed his gleaming cat’s eyes. Somewhere in the distance Chairman Meow was crying. Slowly the warlock lowered his head and struck it once, none too gently, against the wall. “The old Hotel Dumont,” he said. “Uptown.”
“I know where that is.” Jace looked pleased.
“We need to get there right away. Do you have a Portal?” Clary demanded, addressing Magnus.
“No.” He looked annoyed. “Portals are quite difficult to construct and pose no small risk to their owner. Nasty things can come through them if they’re not warded properly. The only ones I know of in New York are the one at Dorothea’s and the one at Renwick’s, but they’re both too far away to be worth the bother of trying to get there, even if you were sure their owners would let you use them, which they probably wouldn’t. Got that? Now go away.” Magnus stared pointedly at Jace’s foot, still blocking the door. Jace didn’t move.
“One more thing,” Jace said. “Is there a holy place around here?”
“Good idea. If you’re going to take on a lair of vampires by yourself, you’d better pray first.”
“We need weapons,” Jace said tersely. “More than what we’ve got on us.”
Magnus pointed. “There’s a Catholic church down on Diamond Street. Will that do?”
Jace nodded, stepping back. “That’s—”
The door slammed in their faces. Clary, breathing as if she’d been running, stared at it until Jace took her arm and steered her down the steps and into the night.