Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

“Father,” said Lucie, looking pointedly in Jesse’s direction.

“It’s all right,” Jesse said. “Believe me. After what she did to me—” He put down his fork, shaking his head. “I try not to think about revenge. I take no pleasure in it, but I know that what is necessary must be done. She has done too much to me, to my sister, to be given another chance.”

Grace. For a moment, James could say nothing; his throat had closed up. The thought of Grace was like falling down an endless black hole, a pit lined with mirrors, each of which reflected back a vision of himself cringing, foolish, filled with shame.

He saw Lucie look at him, her blue eyes wide with worry. He knew she could not understand, but it was clear she sensed his distress. She said loudly, “I was thinking, since we are having the party, that it would be the best opportunity to introduce Jesse to the rest of the Enclave. As Jeremy Blackthorn, of course.”

She had successfully drawn off James’s parents attention. Will drew a lazy circle in the air with the tip of his spoon. “Good thought, cariad.”

“I am sure he will be instantly beloved,” Lucie said.

Jesse smiled. “I would settle for not being left to rot in the Silent City.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Tessa said kindly. “The Clave accepted me, and they’ll accept you as well.”

“He needs something new to wear,” Lucie said. “He can’t go on in James’s old clothes; they’re too short.” This was true; Jesse was taller than James, though thinner as well. “And half of them are fraying, and they all have old lemon drops in the pockets.”

“I don’t mind the lemon drops,” said Jesse mildly.

“Of course,” Will exclaimed. “A new wardrobe for a new man. We must take you to Mr. Sykes—”

“Mr. Sykes is a werewolf,” Lucie explained.

“He does excellent work,” Will said. “Twenty-seven out of thirty days. The others, he gets a bit wild with his colors and cuts.”

“We needn’t depend on Sykes,” Lucie stage-whispered, patting Jesse’s arm. “We’ll get in touch with Anna. She’ll sort you out.”

“If I am going to be presented to the Enclave…” Jesse cleared his throat. “I’d like to make use of the training room. I know very little of fighting, and I could be much stronger than I am. I need not master every skill; I know I am old to begin learning. But—”

“I’ll train with you,” James said. The black pit had receded; he was back at the table with his family again. Relief and gratitude made him sympathetic. He wanted to help Jesse. And if part of it was wanting someone to train with who was not Matthew, he did not admit it to himself at the moment.

Jesse looked pleased. Will was gazing at them both with an expression that seemed to portend a Welsh song on the horizon. Thankfully for everyone present, Bridget appeared suddenly, scowling as she slammed the door behind her. She approached Will and murmured something in his ear.

Will’s eyes lit up. “My goodness. We have a call.”

Tessa looked puzzled. “A call?”

“A call!” confirmed Will. “On the telephone. Bring it in, Bridget.”

James had forgotten about this. A few months before, Will had had one of the new mundane “telephones” installed in the Institute, although James knew that Magnus had done quite a lot of fiddling with magic in order to get it to work. But now it could be used for Institutes to call between one another. James was fairly sure that mundane telephones were usually connected to something by a wire, which this one was not, but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up.

Bridget came in holding a heavy wooden machine. She held it at arm’s length, as though it might explode, while from somewhere within a bell rang continuously, like an alarm clock.

“It just keeps clanging on,” Bridget complained, setting it down on the table with a thump. “I can’t get it to stop.”

“It’s supposed to do that,” Will said. “Just leave it there, thanks.”

He lifted a sort of black cone attached to the wooden box. Immediately a voice, sounding as though it were yelling from the far end of a tunnel, bellowed, “Identify yourself!”

Will held the cone away from his head, looking pained.

James and Lucie exchanged a look. The voice was immediately identifiable: Albert Pangborn, the head of the Cornwall Institute. Lucie gleefully mimed her hands sticking together, to Jesse’s puzzlement and a disapproving look from Tessa.

“This is Will Herondale.” Will spoke into the mouthpiece slowly and clearly. “And you telephoned me.”

Albert shouted back, “This is Albert Pangborn!”

“Yes, Albert,” said Will in the same careful tone, “from the Cornwall Institute. There is no need to shout.”

“I wanted! To tell you!” Albert shouted. “We found that lady! Who went missing!”

“Which lady was that, Albert?” said Will. James was fascinated. It was a rare circumstance to witness a conversation in which his father was the calm, quiet participant.

“The ONE WHO WENT MISSING!” Albert yowled. “From the Adamant Citadel!”

Jesse froze as if his blood had turned to ice. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Lucie blanch. Will was suddenly all attention, hunched over the receiver of the telephone. “Albert,” he said. “Say that again. You found which missing woman?”

“Titania Greenthorpe!” shouted Albert.

“Do you mean Tatiana Blackthorn, Albert?”

“Whatever her name is!” Albert said. “She can’t answer to it herself, you see!”

“What?” said Will. “What do you mean?”

“We found her out on the moors!” Albert said. “One of us, I mean, not myself! It was young Polkinghorn found her!”

“On the moors?” said Will.

“On Bodmin Moor!” Albert said. “During patrol! She was out like a light when we found her! Still hasn’t woken up! Injured pretty badly, I daresay!”

It must be very strange, James thought, a little dazed, to patrol empty moors, rather than city streets full of mundanes. Albert was still shouting: “We thought she was dead at first, truth be told! She’d been slashed up pretty badly! Didn’t even want to put iratzes on her! Not sure she could take it!”

“Where is she now?” Will said.

“Sanctuary,” said Albert, calming down slightly. “Thought that was best.”

Will nodded, though of course Pangborn couldn’t see him. “It is. Keep her there, Albert.” Tessa was frantically miming drawing on her arm. Will added, “Don’t put any runes on her, though. We don’t know how much demonic magic there might be in her.”

“Amazing what young people get up to today, eh, Will?” Pangborn said. “You know what I mean! The young people! Running wild!”

“I’m one year older than Tatiana,” Will pointed out.

“Why, you’re but a boy!” Albert shouted. “Look, I’ve no idea how you do things in London, but I prefer not to harbor criminals in the Sanctuary of my Institute! Is anyone going to come get this woman?”

“Yes,” Will said. “The Silent Brothers will be on their way shortly, to examine her. Keep her in the Sanctuary until then. No runes, and minimal contact. Stay away from her if you can.”

“Give her what in a can?” Albert shouted, but Will was already hanging up. Without another word, he bent to kiss Tessa, who looked as astonished as everyone else, and walked out of the room.

To contact Jem, of course; James did not have to wonder. He knew his father.

There was a silence. Jesse sat like a statue, his face white, staring at the opposite wall. At last Tessa said, “Perhaps she broke with Belial. She may have—resisted him, or disagreed with him, and he abandoned her.”

“It would be very unlike her to do that,” said Jesse, and there was bitterness in his voice. James could not help but think it would also be very unlike Belial to do that: If Tatiana turned against him, surely he would kill her without a second thought?

“There’s always hope for people, Jesse,” Tessa said. “No one is a lost cause, not even your mother.”

Jesse looked at her, bemused, and James thought, Jesse has never had a kind motherly figure in his life. He’d never known a mother who gave him hope, rather than despair or fear. Now he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up with a small bow. “I think I’d better be alone for a little while,” he said, his voice calm. “I will need to tell Grace this news when I see her tomorrow. But I do very much appreciate the dinner. And the kind words,” he added, and departed.

Lucie said, “Should I go after him, do you think?”