Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

“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?

Even James paused at the door, before looking at Matthew and Cordelia with a wry twist to his mouth.

“Lucie and Jesse,” he said. “It’s—a strange situation. Very strange. But she’s happy, so…”

“Try not to look shocked?” Cordelia said.

“Exactly,” said James, and swung the door open.

The ballroom was full of light. It had been stripped bare of decorations, ready for the next event: the curtains were flung wide, and no furniture remained in the room save a large grand piano, lacquered as black and shiny as a new hansom cab.

At the piano sat Jesse Blackthorn. His fingers rested lightly on the keys: he did not touch them as someone who was an expert, but Cordelia guessed he’d had a little instruction, no doubt when he was very young.

Lucie was leaning against the piano, smiling at him. Neither of them seemed to notice that anyone had joined them in the room. Lucie seemed to be reading from a piece of paper.

“Jeremy Blackthorn,” she said. “When was it that your family returned with you to Merry England?”

“I was quite young,” Jesse said, tapping out a quick flight of high notes. “Seven, perhaps. So that would have been—1893.”

“And what happened to your parents?”

“A circus tent collapsed on them,” said Jesse immediately. “It is why I am afraid of stripes.”

Lucie smacked him lightly on the shoulder. He sounded a low note of protest on the piano. “You must take this seriously,” she said, but she was laughing. “You’ll be asked all sorts of questions, you know. A new addition to the Clave—that’s unusual.”

They sound so happy together, Cordelia thought wonderingly. As James and I used to—and yet I knew nothing of this side of Lucie. I did not know this was happening.

“Jeremy Blackthorn,” said Jesse, in a portentous tone. “Who is the prettiest girl in the Enclave? It’s a very important question.…”

At that, before the flirting could escalate, Cordelia loudly cleared her throat.

“The ballroom looks lovely!” she exclaimed. “Is it to be decorated for the Christmas party?”

“Very subtle,” said Matthew, with a quirk at the corner of his mouth.

Both Jesse and Lucie turned around. Lucie beamed. “James, you’re back! Cordelia and Matthew, come and meet Jesse!”

Cordelia could immediately see that this Jesse was very different from Belial-possessed Jesse. As he rose to his feet and came to greet them, Cordelia thought he seemed somehow clearer than he had when she had seen him before, like a painting that had been restored. He wore clothes that were a little short on him, his jacket clearly strained across his shoulders, his ankles visible between his shoes and the hem of his trousers. But he was undeniably handsome, with a sharp, articulate face, and long-lashed green eyes several shades lighter than Matthew’s.

As they exchanged introductions and greetings, Cordelia saw Lucie glance back and forth between Matthew and James, and frown. Of course; she knew them so well, she would be attuned to any oddness between them. Still, a little frown line appeared between her eyebrows, and stayed.