Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

“Bridgestock seems to have demanded that the Iron Sisters bring him something of Tatiana’s he could use to Track her. They found a sash from one of her robes. He was able to use it—to a point.” Will frowned thoughtfully. “He claims he could very clearly sense that the rune was connected to her. It was not like Tracking someone who has died, where there is only a blankness. The Tracking rune sent him urgently after her, but in circles—telling him often that he was close, but never close enough, and changing its direction from time to time, faster than any person could have moved. It was as though the rune was not working at all, though this seemed impossible, especially so close to one of the Nephilim’s main strongholds.

“Bridgestock made camp out on the plains, which I personally cannot imagine, but apparently it was so. Perhaps he pitched a tent. He could not stay at the Citadel itself, although they did provide him with an Icelandic horse that could handle the rough terrain.

“In the dark of night, he heard a voice that came in on the cold wind and told him to go home, to stop seeking what he sought. He ignored this and continued the search the next day, across the volcanic plains, although the voice came to harry him several times. Then, that night, as the sun set behind the mountains, he found himself outside the golden gates to the Iron Tombs.”

Cordelia was well aware of the Iron Tombs. They were the burial ground of the Iron Sisters and Silent Brothers, who did not die as ordinary Shadowhunters, but lived for centuries before their souls voyaged out of their bodies. These bodies did not decay, but remained intact, and were preserved in the Iron Tombs, a place forbidden to most Shadowhunters.

“Bridgestock rattled at the gates,” Will said, “but nobody came to answer him, because no one in the Iron Tombs is alive, which you’d think he would have gathered from the name of the place. Anyway, he had himself a nice tantrum until he was yanked from his saddle by an invisible hand. But rather than colliding with the ground, he found himself surrounded by swirling darkness. A terrible, depthless darkness, the kind that stretches beyond imagination, the kind that might drive a man mad with a single glimpse—”

“Will,” said Tessa. “Do not editorialize.”

Will sighed and went on. “He heard a terrible sound like a saw grinding through wood, or bone. Through the shadows, he could see barren land; he suspected he was no longer in Iceland, or even in our world, but he could not be sure. And then… a monstrous figure rose in front of him, twice the height of a man, with eyes like burning coals. It spoke to him.”

Cordelia waited for Tessa to chide Will, but she stayed silent. Apparently there was no exaggeration here.

“A demon? Did it identify itself?” James asked intently, leaning forward in his chair.

“According to Bridgestock,” Will said slowly, “he has always thought that an angel would be a being of such beauty and infinitude that he would barely be able to comprehend its presence. Yet he always longed to see one. We are, after all, their servants.”

“Are you saying Bridgestock saw an angel?” Matthew said.

“A fallen one,” said Tessa, a tremor in her voice. “A Prince of Hell in all his glory. He was both beautiful and hideous. Darkness streamed from him like invisible light. He seemed clothed in darkness, yet Bridgestock could see two great wounds in his chest, from which blood poured steadily, though it did not seem to bother him.”

“Belial,” Cordelia breathed. Not that there had ever been much doubt, but there was only one Prince of Hell who she had twice wounded with the blade of Cortana.

“He told Bridgestock who he was. Announced himself, and demanded that Bridgestock stop the search for Tatiana. He made threats, which Bridgestock would not share. I imagine they were of the general sort—rain of fire, destruction of the Enclave—but also likely personal, having to do with Bridgestock’s family.”

“He did say one perplexing thing,” Tessa said.

“Ah, yes, I nearly forgot,” said Will. “The last thing he said before he vanished. I jotted it down. ‘If you have any thought of sending your paladin after me, you will bring great doom upon the world.’?”

A terrible spear of ice pierced Cordelia’s spine. She felt the blood drain from her face and wondered if anyone noticed. James and Matthew, to their credit, did not so much as glance at her. Magnus raised his eyebrows; Will and Tessa only seemed puzzled.

“And after that, Bridgestock fled home?” Magnus inquired.

“One cannot really blame him,” said Will. “And believe me, I speak as one who holds no great fondness for the man. But he is no match for Belial. And there is the matter that when he awoke, he found the sigil of Belial burned into his right forearm.”

No wonder he was holding his arm strangely, Cordelia thought.

“He did?” said James. “Have you seen it?”

“I have. A nasty thing,” said Will. “I expect the man was terrified. He spends most of his time punishing other Shadowhunters, not facing Princes of Hell upon a blasted plain.”

“Was it a blasted plain?” asked James.

“In my mind, yes,” said Will, “probably covered in rocks that had been twisted into sinister shapes. One can but dream.”

“What happened to the horse?” said Matthew.

“Ran off,” said Will. “Probably back to the Adamant Citadel. Horses have sense. Balios would never have put up with that nonsense going on.”

Tessa sighed. “Charlotte already drafted an order to be sent out to all Institutes, that they should be on the lookout for Tatiana.”

“I doubt she will be found,” said Magnus. “She has all the realms of Hell to hide in.”

“And if she stays in them, that would be fine,” said Will. “If she returns with Belial, or if she is hoping somehow to ease his passage into this world…”

“I don’t see how she can,” said Cordelia. “She is still just a woman. Her power comes from Belial himself. She cannot do what he himself lacks the power to do.”

“Belial cannot come into this world, not for very long,” said James. “He must possess a living person to do so, but his presence would destroy any ordinary human body. He could possess my body without destroying it, as we share blood, but I would have to be willing to let him—and I am not. He has the same problems he always has. I don’t see how Tatiana can help him.”

“Still,” said Magnus, “it is no good thing that he has returned so soon. He placed his sigil on Bridgestock’s arm not because he cares about Bridgestock, but to send the message that he was here. That we should fear him. Last time he stayed away for months; now it has only been a week or so. And what is all this about a paladin? What paladin? There hasn’t been a paladin among the Nephilim since the days of Jonathan Shadowhunter.”

“It’s hard to swear yourself to the service of an angel,” Tessa said, “when there never seem to be any around.”

“Princes of Hell aren’t like people,” James said. “For him it’s probably only been a short time since paladins were around. We’d be wise not to read too much into it.”

“We will make sure the Clave is on high alert for a sighting of Tatiana,” said Will. “There is not much else we can do. Still—” He pointed at James, Cordelia, and Matthew. “You, who are not yet adults, though you may feel you are. The three of you must stay close to your homes. Preferably, we’d like you to stay here at the Institute, at least at night.”

“I won’t go out after dark, if that’s the issue,” said Matthew. “But I will stay in my flat.”

“I’ll stay here,” James said, making no mention of Cordelia. “And Lucie too, I assume?”

“Yes, of course, and—” Will glanced over at Tessa. “We have to tell them, my dear. About Jesse.”

Cordelia exchanged a puzzled look with Matthew. “Jesse?” she said, into the silence. “Jesse Blackthorn?”



* * *



“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Matthew said as he, Cordelia, and James left Will’s office, with instructions to find Lucie and Jesse in the ballroom.

“You might as well get used to him,” Will had said. “I’m fairly sure he’s here to stay.”

“There wasn’t really time, was there,” James said, rather tightly.

“There really wasn’t,” Cordelia said quickly, hoping to defuse the situation. “It’s quite an odd tale, with quite a lot of explaining needed. I—” She shook her head. “I had no idea about any of it.”

“Lucie kept it a close secret,” said James. “It seems she feared rejection if the extent of her powers was discovered. And even warlocks look darkly on death magic.”

“Understandably,” Matthew said as they went up the stairs. “Necromancy often has very unpleasant results.”

“Well,” said James, in a tone that suggested he did not want to discuss the matter, “not in this case.”

Matthew shrugged. “By the Angel, Charles is loathsome. I know that a week ago I was concerned about whether he lived or died, but I certainly can’t remember why.”

James smiled a little. “He does seem to have rather attached himself to Bridgestock. Raziel knows why. Since he ended his engagement to Ariadne, I thought Bridgestock despised him.”

“Bridgestock likes his boots licked,” said Matthew harshly. “And Charles is good enough at that—”

He broke off. They were approaching the ballroom door, and from the other side, Cordelia could hear bright, familiar laughter.

Lucie. When was the last time she’d heard Lucie laugh like that?