Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

“Tatiana Blackthorn,” James said. “What do you want?”


He felt strangely calm. He had faced Tatiana before, when she had surrendered to him at the Lightwoods’, but she had been lying and pretending then. Perhaps she intended to lie and pretend again, but now he expected it. Now there was a metallic taste in his mouth, and a hot wire of rage running through his veins. He had been angry at Grace for some time, and still was, but in truth, it was Tatiana who had been the architect of his misery. Grace had only ever been the blade in her hand.

She narrowed her eyes, looking at him. It was clear she’d thought he would be shocked at her appearance, and she was taken aback by his calm. “Grace,” she hissed. “My traitor daughter came before me, did she not? She told you I had taken the Silent City. That stupid child. I should have ordered my Watchers to kill her when the chance presented itself, but… my heart is too soft.”

Jesse made a noise in the back of his throat. Tatiana was clearly quite out of her mind at this point, he thought. She had been bitter and falling apart for as long as he had known of her, and then Belial came along, like the spider in the children’s rhyme, and offered her power. The power to have the revenge she had only ever dreamed of. She was a shell scraped clean now, her humanity gone, hollowed out by hatred and revenge.

“I want one thing from each of you,” she said, her gaze moving restlessly between the three Shadowhunters ranged on the steps. “One thing, or my Watchers”—she gestured at the white-clad figures on either side of her—“will be turned loose upon you.” She turned to Cordelia with a sneer. “From you—Cortana. The sword of Wayland the Smith.”

“Certainly not,” said Cordelia. Her head was held high; she looked at Tatiana as if Tatiana was a bug spitted on a needle. “I am Cortana’s rightful bearer. The sword chose me; you have no right to it.”

Tatiana smiled as if she had expected, and even welcomed, such an answer. She turned to Jesse. “From you, my son,” she said, “I wish for you to drop your ruse. You need not pretend you are one of the Nephilim any longer. Abandon these traitors. Join me. There will be a New London soon, and we will rule it. Your father will be raised, and we will be a family again.”

A New London? James turned to Jesse, worried—but Jesse’s face was like stone. The Blackthorn sword gleamed in his hand as he raised it, holding it across his body. “I’d rather be dead than join with you, Mother,” he said, “and since I’ve been dead already, I can say that with great confidence.”

“Belial can give you worse than death,” Tatiana murmured. There was an odd light in her eyes, as if she were contemplating the joys of Hell. “You will reconsider, child.”

She turned to James.

“And you, James Herondale,” she said. “You who consider yourself a leader. Give yourself up to Belial willingly. He has given me his word, and I pass it on to you, that he will spare those you love, and let them live, if only you come willingly to him. Even the Carstairs girl he will allow to live; he will gift her to you. She left you once, but she will never be able to leave you again. She will have no choice but to remain at your side.”

James felt his lip curl. “It says much of you, that you think that would tempt me,” he said harshly. “That you think love is the ability to possess another person, to force them to your side, even if they hate you, even if they can hardly bear it. You offer me what Grace had of me—not a partner, but a prisoner.” He shook his head, noting that Tatiana looked angry, which was good; they were stalling for time, after all. “Belial cannot understand, nor you, Tatiana. I want a Cordelia who can leave me, because then I know that when she stays with me, it is by choice.”

“A meaningless distinction,” said Tatiana. “You speak of morals that belong to a world that is receding into the past. Belial is coming; there will be a New London, and its denizens will either serve Belial or die.”

“Belial will abandon you when he has no further use for you,” said James.

“No.” Tatiana’s eyes glittered. “For I have granted Belial an army, one he could never have had without me.” She gestured at the Silent Brothers on either side of her, and James saw with a start that there were more of them now—at least five on either side of Tatiana. Somehow more of the creatures Tatiana had called Watchers had glided into the courtyard without being noticed. Their eyes were sewn shut, but in the darkness James could see the gleam of an ugly green light beneath their lids. “Your own Silent Brothers have abandoned you and joined with Belial—”

“That is a lie.” James tried not to look at the gates; surely Charles and the First Patrol had to return soon. “Do you wish me to tell you what we know? You arranged to be sentenced to imprisonment in the Adamant Citadel so you could steal the key to the Iron Tombs. You escaped and gave it to Belial. You opened the Tombs for him. He summoned an army of Chimera demons, and now they possess these bodies—these who were once Silent Brothers and Iron Sisters. Once you were in the Silent City, you let them in, let them take it over. We know our own do not act against us willingly. As always, you and your master must force others to act for you. No one is loyal to you, Tatiana. You know only coercion and possession, threats and control.”

For barely a moment, something flickered across her face—was she angry? Taken aback? James could not tell—before she forced a nasty smile. “Clever boy,” she said. “You discerned our plan. But not, alas, soon enough to stop it.” She looked up at the spire of the Institute, piercing the bloodred sky, which rumbled and shook with such force James half expected the ground to rock under his feet. “All of London will soon fall. I have stated the three things I want. Do you still refuse to give them to me?”

James, Cordelia, and Jesse exchanged a look. “Yes,” Cordelia said. “We still refuse.”

Tatiana looked delighted. “Wonderful,” she said. “Now you will have a chance to see what demons in the bodies of Nephilim can do.” She turned to the Watchers. “Show them!”

The Watchers moved as if they were one being. Gripping their lightning staffs, they began to swarm up the steps of the Institute. James raised his pistol and fired at one of the Watchers; it fell back, but the others kept coming, as Jesse drew his sword and Cordelia raced to fling the entryway door open. The Shadowhunters of the Institute poured out, seraph blades glowing in their hands.

The battle had begun.



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