Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

“Yes,” Jesse said. “This isn’t about her.”


James smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to stay in the Institute at night?”

Jesse said, “Aren’t you?”

“I only came to fetch some cuff links,” James said.

“Well, I came to talk to you,” said Jesse, “where we could not be overheard. About my mother’s papers.”

“Oh!” said Effie, who had, it seemed, not vanished in hysterics after all, but rather come up behind James with little warning. And was staring past him, at Jesse. “Good evening, sir.”

Was Effie… blushing? Certainly James had never seen her look like that before. She was close to twittering. “I’m so sorry, sir, I only ran to fetch you a towel for the snow in your hair. I should have taken your coat and scarf first—of course—lose track of my own head next. Such a lovely coat, too, and so suitable for such a handsome young man.”

As Jesse handed over the coat and scarf, Effie clutched them to her like treasures. She gazed at Jesse, who looked back with mounting puzzlement.

“Effie,” James said. “Perhaps some tea?”

“Oh! Yes, of course. I’ll lay it on in the drawing room, and build up the fire there as well.” She bustled off, still clutching Jesse’s coat.

“She seems nice,” Jesse said as James led him down the hall to the drawing room. James thought to himself that Effie had never before demonstrated the slightest interest in any of his visitors. It seemed she liked the look of Jesse. After all, Effie must like the look of someone. Didn’t everybody?

In the drawing room, they settled into armchairs, Jesse still clutching the sheaf of old papers; they gave off a sooty, sour smell, like embers and rot.

“I’ve been going through them,” he said, without preamble. His expression was grim. “All of them. They took a little decrypting, but it wasn’t much of a code. The key was my father’s name—Rupert.”

“I’m guessing from your expression that you didn’t much like what you found,” said James.

“I always knew my mother was bitter,” Jesse said. “I assumed that she’d struck out at you purely because of her hatred of your parents. But it seems you’ve been central to Belial’s plans—to Belial and my mother’s plans—all along.”

“I know,” James said. He’d never been quite sure how much Jesse knew, but the notes seemed to be providing a quick and harsh education. “Belial’s goal has always been to possess me, to live in my body, since it can sustain him on Earth without burning away.”

“He nearly managed with mine, but it meant he had to give up half the day,” agreed Jesse. “I don’t know if my mother reached out to Belial first, or he to her, but either way, their interests are far more aligned than I had realized. But it’s more than that. Possessing you isn’t the end of his plan. It is a stepping-stone to wreaking much larger destruction. But what kind of destruction, what form it will take, I cannot say.”

James made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “In the past, I had this bond with Belial. Since the first time I fell into shadow. It was wretched, but at least I could see through his eyes, catch glimpses of his realm, his actions. Now I feel as though I’ve been blindfolded. I’m feeling around in the dark, searching for any sign of the next step in his plans.”

“I know,” Jesse said reluctantly. “That’s why I wanted to show these to you. In the notes, I discovered how my mother was able to communicate with Belial for all those years. She used the mirror we found.”

“She used the mirror? And you’re implying we could use it the same way?” James demanded, sitting forward, and then shook his head before Jesse could respond. “I don’t think communication with Belial would be a good idea. In the past, he was unaware of my presence. And”—he smiled wryly—“I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“I think you’re right. But there’s more to it. At some point, Belial told my mother to destroy the mirror. He didn’t want there to be evidence tying the two of them together that could be found by the Clave.”

“But she didn’t destroy it.”

“No.” Jesse’s face twisted with an intense disgust. “She kept it—she would look through it, and watch Belial without his knowledge. It brought her some kind of… enjoyment. I—can’t think about it too much.”

“Like the Wicked Queen in ‘Snow White.’?” James said. He put his elbows on his knees; his whole body felt tense. “Did she explain how it functioned? How she was able to spy upon Belial without him realizing it?”

Jesse nodded. “Yes. It’s detailed in her notes.”

“And it’s something we could do?”

“Maybe. It’s something we shouldn’t do—”

But James had already sprung up out of his seat and made for the nearest desk. He needed pen and paper, needed a few pennies for Neddy, needed to think of what to say. Jesse watched him quietly, with the air of someone who has delivered a piece of news he wished he did not know.

Having located a pen, James began to scribble three notes. “Jesse, will you come to the Devil Tavern tomorrow? To discuss all this with the Merry Thieves?”

“Are we really going to discuss it?” Jesse said. “Or are you just going to go ahead and use the mirror?”

James looked at Jesse over his shoulder. “And here you were worried about fitting into the London Enclave.” Despite himself, despite everything, he felt himself smile. “It’s like you’ve known us for years.”



* * *



The day broke sunny and very cold. The fire in Letty’s room had gone out sometime in the night, and she woke to find herself curled into a ball under the thin wool blanket. She shivered, not only with the chill. The evening before, a Silent Brother had arrived, and his presence unnerved her beyond her expectations. The Shadowhunters had told her what to expect, but it wasn’t even the sewn-shut mouth and eyes that had most distressed her; it was a terrible uncanny feeling, like falling, that hung about him.

He had arrived on a blast of cold air, and stood motionless in the chilly foyer while Pangborn explained what had been going on, and that Tatiana Blackthorn was imprisoned in the Sanctuary.

Letty knew that the Shadowhunters could hear the Silent Brothers speak in their minds, but that mundanes could not. She assumed Pangborn could hear Brother Lebahim in his odd, silent way; Pangborn shrugged and pointed the way to the Sanctuary, and the Silent Brother vanished without a sound down the hall.

Letty looked shyly at Mr. Pangborn. “What did he say? In your head, I mean?”

“Nothing,” the old man said. “Nothing at all.” He looked sternly at Letty. “Keep away from this,” he added. “It’s Shadowhunter business.”