A soft knock on the library door made Maryse raise her head. It was a cloudy day, dim outside the library windows, and the green-shaded lamps cast small pools of light in the circular room. She couldn’t say how long she’d been sitting behind the desk. Empty coffee mugs littered the surface in front of her.
She rose to her feet. “Come in.”
There was a soft click as the door opened, but no sound of footsteps. A moment later a parchment-robed figure glided into the room, his hood raised, shadowing his face. You called on us, Maryse Lightwood?
Maryse rolled her shoulders back. She felt cramped and tired and old. “Brother Zachariah. I was expecting—Well. It doesn’t matter.”
Brother Enoch? He is senior to me, but I thought perhaps that your call might have something to do with the disappearance of your adoptive son. I have a particular interest in his well-being.
She looked at him curiously. Most Silent Brothers didn’t editorialize, or speak of their personal feelings, if they had any. Smoothing her tangled hair back, she stepped out from behind the desk. “Very well. I want to show you something.”
She had never really gotten used to the Silent Brothers, to the soundless way they moved, as if their feet didn’t touch the ground. Zachariah seemed to hover beside her as she led him across the library to a map of the world tacked to the north wall. It was a Shadowhunter map. It showed Idris in the center of Europe and the ward around it as a border of gold.
On a shelf below the map were two objects. One was a shard of glass crusted with dried blood. The other was a worn leather cuff bracelet, decorated with the rune for angelic power.
“These are—”
Jace Herondale’s cuff and Jonathan Morgenstern’s blood. I understood attempts to track them were unsuccessful?
“It isn’t tracking precisely.” Maryse straightened her shoulders. “When I was in the Circle, there was a mechanism Valentine used by which he could locate us all. Unless we were in certain protected places, he knew where we were at all times. I thought there was a chance he might have done the same to Jace when he was a child. He never seemed to have trouble finding him.”
What kind of mechanism do you speak of?
“A mark. Not one from the Gray Book. We all had it. I had nearly forgotten about it; after all, there was no way to get rid of it.”
If Jace had it, would he not know of it, and take steps to prevent you using it to find him?
Maryse shook her head. “It could be as small as a tiny, almost invisible white mark under his hair, as mine is. He would not have known he had it—Valentine wouldn’t have wanted to tell him.”
Brother Zachariah moved apart from her, examining the map. And what has been the result of your experiment?
“Jace has it,” Maryse said, but she did not sound pleased or triumphant. “I’ve seen him on the map. When he appears, the map flares, like a spark of light, in the location where he is; and his cuff flares at the same time. So I know it is him, and not Jonathan Morgenstern. Jonathan never appears on the map.”
And where is he? Where is Jace?
“I’ve seen him appear, just for a few seconds each time, in London, Rome, and Shanghai. Just a little while ago he flickered into existence in Venice, and then vanished again.”
How is he traveling so quickly between cities?
“By Portal?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that every time the map flickers, I know he’s alive… for now. And it’s like I can breathe again, just for a little while.” She shut her mouth decidedly, lest the other words come pouring out—how she missed Alec and Isabelle but could not bear to call them back to the Institute, where Alec at least would be expected to take responsibility in the manhunt for his own brother. How she still thought of Max every day and it was like someone had emptied her lungs of air, and she would catch at her heart, afraid she was dying. She could not lose Jace, too.
I can understand that. Brother Zachariah folded his hands in front of him. His hands looked young, not gnarled or bent, his fingers slender. Maryse often wondered how the Brothers aged and how long they lived, but that information was secret to their order. There is little more powerful than the love of family. But what I do not know is why you chose to show this to me.
Maryse took a shuddering breath. “I know I should show it to the Clave,” she said. “But the Clave knows of his bond with Jonathan now. They are hunting them both. They will kill Jace if they find him. And yet to keep it to myself is surely treason.” She hung her head. “I decided that telling you, the Brothers, was something I could bear. Then it is your choice whether to show it to the Clave. I—I can’t stand that it be mine.”
Zachariah was silent a long moment. Then his voice, gentle in her head, said, Your map tells you that your son is still alive. If you give it to the Clave, I do not think it will help them much, besides telling them that he is traveling fast and is impossible to track. They know that already. You keep the map. I will not speak of it for now.
Maryse looked at him in astonishment. “But… you are a servant of the Clave…”
I was once a Shadowhunter like you. I lived like you do. And like you, there were those I loved enough to put their welfare before anything else—any oath, any debt.
“Did you…” Maryse hesitated. “Did you ever have children?”
No. No children.
“I’m sorry.”
Do not be. And try not to let fear for Jace devour you. He is a Herondale, and they are survivors—
Something snapped inside Maryse. “He is not a Herondale. He is a Lightwood. Jace Lightwood. He’s my son.”
There was a long pause. Then, I did not mean to imply otherwise, said Brother Zachariah. He unclasped his thin hands and stepped back. There is one thing you must be aware of. If Jace appears on the map for more than a few seconds at a time, you will have to tell the Clave. You should brace yourself for the possibility.
“I don’t think I can,” she said. “They’ll send hunters after him. Set a trap for him. He’s just a boy.”
He was never just a boy, said Zachariah, and he turned to glide from the room. Maryse did not watch him go. She had returned to staring at the map.
Simon?
Relief opened like a flower in his chest. Clary’s voice, tentative but familiar, filled his head. He looked sideways. Isabelle was still sleeping. Midday light was visible around the edges of the curtains.
Are you awake?
He rolled onto his back, stared up at the ceiling. Of course I’m awake.
Well, I wasn’t sure. You’re what, six, seven hours behind where I am. It’s twilight here.
Italy?
We’re in Prague now. It’s pretty. There’s a big river and a lot of buildings with spires. Looks a little like Idris from a distance. It’s cold here, though. Colder than at home.
Okay, enough with the weather report. Are you safe? Where are Sebastian and Jace?
They’re with me. I wandered off a little, though. I said I wanted to commune with the view from the bridge.
So I’m the view from the bridge?
She laughed, or at least he felt something that was like laughter in his head—a soft, nervous laughter. I can’t take too long. Though, they don’t really seem to suspect anything. Jace… Jace definitely doesn’t. Sebastian is harder to read. I don’t think he trusts me. I searched his room yesterday, but there’s nothing—I mean, nothing—to indicate what they’re planning. Last night…
Last night?
Nothing. It was odd, how she could be inside his head and he could still sense that she was hiding something. Sebastian has in his room the box my mom used to own. With his baby stuff in it. I can’t figure out why.
Don’t waste your time trying to figure out Sebastian, Simon told her. He’s not worth it. Figure out what they’re going to do.
I’m trying. She sounded irritable. Are you still at Magnus’s?
Yeah. We’ve moved to phase two of our plan.
Oh, yeah? What was phase one?
Phase one was sitting around the table, ordering pizza, and arguing.
What’s phase two? Sitting around the table drinking coffee and arguing?
Not exactly. Simon took a deep breath. We raised the demon Azazel.
Azazel? Her mental voice spiked upward; Simon almost clutched at his ears. So that’s what the stupid Smurf question was about. Tell me you’re kidding.
I’m not. It’s a long story. He filled her in as best he could, watching Isabelle breathe as he did, watching the light outside the window grow brighter. We thought he could help us find a weapon that can hurt Sebastian without hurting Jace.
Yeah, but—demon-raising? Clary didn’t sound convinced. And Azazel is no ordinary demon. I’m the one with Team Evil over here. You’re Team Good. Keep it in mind.
You know nothing’s that simple, Clary.
It was as if he could feel her sigh, a breath of air that passed over his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. I know.