Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

Ari pointed her chalk at him. “That’s very dark thinking, Alastair, and we won’t have it. The longer we can keep our presence hidden, the better.”


“Agreed,” said Anna. “Next. Ari and I are going to try to find a way in and out of London. There must be some magical gate Belial would have missed. A leftover warlock Portal, a path to Faerie. Something.”

“What about trying to get back the way Tatiana and the Watchers got here?” suggested Thomas. “The Path of the Dead.”

In the past frantic days in the library, they had learned what the Path of the Dead was—a passageway that led from the Silent City to the Iron Tombs. It seemed that after Tatiana had been imprisoned, she had opened a gate within the City of Bones to allow Belial’s army to march from the Iron Tombs, along the Path, and into the heart of the Silent Brothers’ stronghold. It was a painful thought.

“I wish we could do that, Tom,” said Anna, “but remember what Charles said—not only is the entrance to the Silent City sealed, but we couldn’t possibly fight off the demons that would attack if we tried to open it. Especially now, when there is no real daylight, there is no time we would be safe in trying.”

“If we had the aid of a warlock, we might be able to try,” Lucie said. “Magnus and Hypatia are in Paris, but Malcolm is the High Warlock of London; he must at least know what has happened. And not just warlocks,” she added. “We must attempt to make contact with any Downworlders still in London, and see if they can be of help. Belial said they were all under his control, but he lies about everything.”

“Fire-messages,” said Grace’s small voice from the other end of the table, surprising Lucie. “The invention that Christopher was working on. He thought he was very close. If we can get them working, we can perhaps send messages to Idris. Since Belial doesn’t know they exist.”

Everyone nodded. Cordelia folded her arms. “The Watchers. It’s dangerous, but we must learn more about them. What they can do. Whether they have any weaknesses we can exploit.” She turned to Lucie. “Luce, have you ever encountered the ghost of a Silent Brother or Iron Sister? I know their bodies do not decay, but what of their souls?”

Lucie shook her head. “I have never seen such a ghost. Wherever the souls of the Iron Sisters and Silent Brothers are voyaging, it is someplace further than I have ever been.”

“Figuring out anything about the Watchers is going to be difficult,” Alastair said, “given that we are also trying to remain undetected. If we fight a Watcher and run away, it will report us to Belial. If we fight a Watcher and kill it, it will be missed. I’m not saying we shouldn’t try,” he added, holding up his hands before Cordelia could respond. “Maybe we could drop heavy things on them from above.”

“You’re on dropping things on Watchers from above,” Anna agreed. “Meanwhile, the worst and most important problem remains.”

“Saving James and Matthew,” said Lucie.

“We’ll have to find James and Matthew first,” Jesse pointed out.

“James will hold out for as long as he can,” Cordelia said firmly. “But we don’t know how long that will be, or if Belial will find some means after all of possessing him without his consent.”

“And Belial didn’t expect to take Matthew at all,” Thomas pointed out. “He has no reason to keep him alive. So we have even less time than that.”

“He has one reason to keep him alive,” Lucie said. “James will never cooperate if Belial hurts Matthew.”

Thomas sighed. “We’ll have to cling to that, for now. Since we don’t even know where to start to rescue them. Edom is another world. We have no way of reaching it. Perhaps with the help of a warlock—it depends on whether Belial was lying about them being in his thrall.”

“So,” Anna said, sitting up. Lucie felt grateful—even as deep in grief as Anna was, she wasn’t going to let them fall into despair now. “Ari and I will be looking for magical ways in and out of London. Grace, you should look into the fire-messages, you know the most about Christopher’s work on them so far.”

“I’ll help Grace,” Jesse said.

Anna nodded. “Alastair, you and Thomas are on Watchers and how to fight them. Cordelia—”

“Lucie and I will look into the Downworlders,” Cordelia said. She caught Lucie’s eye and held her gaze intently. “And we’ll figure out how to rescue Matthew and James.”

“That’s all the tasks and all of us,” Ari said. “Funny how quickly things can be accomplished when the rest of the Enclave isn’t here to slow us down.”

“When everything has gone to Hell,” Alastair said, “it focuses the mind rather effectively.”

They all began to speak. Lucie looked over at Cordelia, who remained silent, also watching the rest of them. For the first time in a long time, Lucie felt a bit of hope. Cordelia and I are going to be working together, she thought. And we are going to be parabatai. Even through the chill of the empty city and the daunting tasks ahead, that thought kindled a warmth within her, the first warmth she’d felt since all this business began.



* * *



Cordelia and Lucie stuck close to one another as they made their way down Berwick Street. Cordelia could not help but remember the first time she had ever been here, in Soho, with Matthew and Anna. How she had stared around eagerly, taking it all in: the neighborhood bursting with life, naphtha beacons lighting the faces of customers haggling at stalls over everything from china plates to bolts of shining fabric. Laughter spilling from the lighted windows of the Blue Posts pub. Matthew smiling at her in the moonlight, reciting poetry.

How lively and lovely it had been. Now it was eerie. Though it was midday, it was dark, the gas streetlamps unlit: the night before she had seen lamplighters wandering the streets, going through the motions of their jobs, but there had been no lit flames at the ends of their poles. Figures slumped in doorways, many dressed only in rags: shivering Jemmys, they were called in ordinary times, but now they were not shivering. They seemed not to notice the cold, though their fingers and bare feet were blue. Cordelia wished she could throw blankets over all of them, and knew she couldn’t: interfering with the mundanes drew the attention of Watchers, and—as Anna had reminded her and Lucie sternly—the best way to help them was to end Belial’s control of London as soon as possible.

Still. Her heart hurt.

Nearing Tyler’s Court, they came upon an artist with his easel set up on the pavement. He wore a ratty old overcoat, but his paints and palette were fresh. Lucie stopped to look at his easel and winced—the image there was hellish. He’d painted London in ruins, the city on fire, and in the sky above, leathery-winged demons flapping, some with bleeding humans in their talons.