“I see I have come in on a fascinating moment in the conversation.” Eric poked his head through the curtain.
“Come on. It’s time to start.”
As Kyle and Simon headed for the stage, Jace got to his feet. Just below the hem of his borrowed shirt, Simon could see the glittering edge of a dagger. “Break a leg up there,”
Jace said with a wicked grin. “And I’ll be down here, hopefully breaking someone else’s.”
Raphael had been supposed to come at twilight, but he kept them waiting almost three hours past the appointed time before his Projection appeared in the Institute library.
Vampire politics, thought Luke dryly. The head of the New York vampire clan would come, if he must, when the Shadowhunters called; but he would not be summoned, and he would not be punctual. Luke had spent the past few hours whiling away the time by reading several of the library’s books; Maryse hadn’t been interested in talking and had spent most of the time standing by the window, drinking red wine out of a cut-crystal glass and staring at the traffic going by on York Avenue.
She turned as Raphael appeared, like a white chalk drawing on the darkness. First the pallor of his face and hands became visible, and then the darkness of his clothes and hair.
Finally he stood, filled in, a solid-looking Projection. He looked at Maryse hurrying toward him and said, “You called, Shadowhunter?” He turned then, his gaze sweeping over Luke. “And the wolf-human is here too, I see. Have I been summoned to a sort of Council?”
“Not exactly.” Maryse set her glass down on the desktop. “You have heard about the recent deaths, Raphael? The Shadowhunter bodies that have been found?”
Raphael raised expressive eyebrows. “I have. I did not think to make note of it. It has nothing to do with my clan.”
“One bodyfound inwarlock territory, one inwolfterritory, one infaerie territory,” said Luke. “Iimagine your folk will be next. It seems a clear attempt to foment discord among Downworlders. I am here in good faith, to show you that I do not believe that you are responsible, Raphael.”
“What a relief,” Raphael said, but his eyes were dark and watchful. “Why would there be any suggestion that I was?”
“One of the dead was able to tell us who attacked him,” said Maryse carefully. “Before he—died—he let us know that the person responsible was Camille.”
“Camille.” Raphael’s voice was careful, but his expression, before he schooled it into blankness, showed fleeting shock. “But that is not possible.”
“Why is it not possible, Raphael?” Luke asked. “She is the head of your clan. She is very powerful and famously quite ruthless. And she seems to have disappeared. She never came to Idris to fight with you in the war. She never agreed to the new Accords. No Shadowhunter has seen or heard tell of her in months—until now.”
Raphael said nothing.
“There is something going on,” Maryse said. “We wanted to give you the chance to explain it to us before we told the Clave of Camille’s involvement. A show of good faith.”
“Yes,” said Raphael. “Yes, it is certainly a show.”
“Raphael,” said Luke, not unkindly. “You don’t have to protect her. If you care for her—
”
“Care for her?” Raphael turned aside and spat, though as he was a Projection, this was more for show than result.
“I hate her. I despise her. Every evening when I rise, I wish her dead.”
“Oh,” said Maryse delicately. “Then, perhaps—”
“She led us for years,” said Raphael. “She was the clan head when I was made a vampire, and that was fifty years ago. Before that, she came to us from London. She was a stranger to the city but ruthless enough to rise to head the Manhattan clan in only a few short months. Last year I became her second in command. Then, some months ago, I discovered that she had been killing humans. Killing them for sport, and drinking their blood. Breaking the Law. It happens sometimes. Vampires go rogue and there is nothing that can be done to stop them. But for it to happen to the head of a clan—they are supposed to be better than that.” He stood still, his dark eyes inwardlooking, lost in his memories. “We are not like the wolves, those savages. We do not kill one leader to find another. For a vampire to raise a hand against another vampire is the worst of crimes, even if that vampire has broken the Law. And Camille has many allies, many followers. I could not risk ending her. Instead I went to her and told her she had to leave us, to get out, or Iwould go to the Clave. Ididn’t want to do that, of course, because I knew that if it were discovered, it would bring wrath down on the entire clan. We would be distrusted, investigated.
We would be shamed and humiliated in front of other clans.”
Maryse made an impatient noise. “There are more important things than loss of face.”
“When you are a vampire, it can mean the difference between life and death.” Raphael’s voice dropped. “I gambled that she would believe I would do it, and she did. She agreed to go. I sent her away, but it left behind a conundrum. I could not take her place, for she had not abdicated it. I could not explain her departure without revealing what she had done. I had to pose it as a long absence, a need to travel. Wanderlust is not unheard of in our kind; it comes upon us now and then. When you can live forever, staying in one place can come to seem a dull prison after many, many years.”
“And how long did you think you could keep up the charade?” Luke inquired.
“As long as Icould,” said Raphael. “Until now, itseems.” He looked awayfrom them, toward the windowand the sparkling night outside.
Luke leaned back against one of the bookshelves. He was vaguely amused to notice that he seemed to be in the shape-shifter section, lined with volumes on the topics of werewolves, naga, kitsunes, and selkies. “You might be interested to know she has been telling much the same story about you,” he said, neglecting to mention whom she had been telling it to.
“I thought she had left the city.”
“Perhaps she did, but she has returned,” said Maryse. “And she is no longer satisfied only with human blood, it seems.”
“I do not know what I can tell you,” said Raphael. “I was trying to protect my clan. If the Law must punish me, then I will accept punishment.”
“We aren’t interested in punishing you, Raphael,” said Luke. “Not unless you refuse to cooperate.”
Raphael turned back to them, his dark eyes burning. “Cooperate with what?”
“We would like to capture Camille. Alive,” said Maryse. “We want to question her. We need to know why she has been killing Shadowhunters—and these Shadowhunters in particular.”
“If you sincerely hope to accomplish this, I hope you have a very clever plan.” There was a mixture of amusement and scorn in Raphael’s voice. “Camille is cunning even for our kind, and we are very cunning indeed.”
“I have a plan,” said Luke. “It involves the Daylighter. Simon Lewis.”
Raphael made a face. “I dislike him,” he said. “I would rather not be a part of a plan that relies upon his involvement.”
“Well,” said Luke, “isn’t that too bad for you.”
Stupid, Clary thought. Stupid not to bring an umbrella. The faint drizzle that her mother had told her was coming that morning had turned into nearly full-blown rain by the time she reached the Alto Bar on Lorimer Street. She pushed past the knot of people smoking out on the sidewalk and ducked gratefully into the dry warmth of the bar inside.
Millennium Lint was already onstage, the guys whaling away on their instruments, and Kyle, at the front, growling sexily into a microphone. Clary felt a moment of satisfaction.
It was largely down to her influence that they’d hired Kyle at all, and he was clearly doing them proud.
She glanced around the room, hoping to see either Maia or Isabelle. She knew it wouldn’t be both of them, since Simon carefully invited them only to alternating gigs. Her gaze fell on a slender figure with black hair, and she moved toward that table, only to stop midway. It wasn’t Isabelle at all, but a much older woman, her face made up with dark outlined eyes. She was wearing a power suit and reading a newspaper, apparently oblivious to the music.