She shoved her feet into her shoes and caught up with him where the sand rose up toward the pavement. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course. Here, sorry, I forgot to give you this back.” He handed Emma her phone. “Look, the Clave makes their rules. And they live by their rules. But that doesn’t mean that with the right pressure, the rules never change.”
“You’re being cryptic.”
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“They don’t like letting Shadowhunters as young as we are get involved with serious issues. Never have. But Jace and Clary and Alec and Isabelle saved the world when they were our age. They were honored for it. Results—that’s what makes them change their minds.”
They had reached the highway. Emma looked up, toward the hills. The Institute was perched on a low bluff over the coast road.
“Julian Blackthorn,” she said as they crossed the highway. “You revolutionary, you.”
“So we’ll look into this, but do it quietly,” Julian said. “First move, compare the photos of the body you found to the photos of the bodies of your parents. Everyone will want to help. Don’t worry.”
They were halfway up the Institute road. Cars were backed up even now, mundanes commuting to work downtown. Sunlight sparked off their windshields.
“And if it turns out the markings are just gibberish, and it’s some random lunatic on a murder spree?”
“Couldn’t be a spree. Sprees happen all at once, but in different locations. Like if you drive from place to place shooting people, that’s a spree.”
“So what’s this? A mass murder?”
“Mass murders also all take place at the same time, but are in the same location,” Julian said loftily, in the same tone he used when explaining to Tavvy why he couldn’t have Cheerios for breakfast. “This is definitely a serial killer. That’s when the murders are spaced out over time.”
“It’s disturbing that you know this,” Emma said. In front of the Institute, stretching to the edge of the bluff, was a sun-dried lawn, edged with sea grass and scrub brush. The family spent little time there: too close to the highway, unshaded, and overlaid with scratchy grass.
“Dru’s into true crime right now,” Jules said. They’d reached the Institute stairs. “You wouldn’t believe how much she told me about how to hide a body.”
Emma sprang past him, up three steps, and turned to look down. “I’m taller than you,” she announced. It was a game they’d played when they were little—Emma always swearing she’d grow up taller than he was, finally giving up when he’d turned fourteen and shot up five inches.
Julian looked up at her. The sun was shining directly into his eyes, overlaying the blue-green with gold, making them look like the patina that shone on the Roman glass Arthur collected. “Em,” he said. “However much we might joke about it, you know I take this seriously. It’s your parents. You deserve to know what happened.”
She felt a sudden lump in her throat. “This just feels different,” she whispered. “I know how many times I’ve thought I found out something and it was nothing, or I’ve followed a false lead, but this feels like something else, Jules. This feels real.”
Her phone rang. She looked away from Jules, fishing it out of her pocket. When she saw the name flash up on-screen she made a face and shoved it back. Jules raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral.
“Cameron Ashdown?” he said. “Why aren’t you picking up?”
“Just not in the mood.” The words came out almost to her surprise; she wondered why she wasn’t telling him. Cameron and I broke up.
The front door banged open. “Emma! Jules!”
It was Drusilla and Tavvy, both still in pajamas. Tavvy had a lollipop in one hand and was sucking on it industriously. When he saw Emma, his eyes lit up and he ran toward her. “Emma!” he said around the candy.
She pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his round little-boy middle, squeezing until he giggled.
“Tavvy!” Julian said. “Don’t run with lollipops in your mouth. You could choke.”
Tavvy removed the lollipop and stared at it the way someone might stare at a loaded gun. “And die?”
“Hideously,” Julian said. “Fatally, fatally die.” He turned to Drusilla, who had her hands on her hips. Her black pajamas were decorated with cartoon drawings of chain saws and skeletons. “What’s up, Dru?”
“It’s Friday,” Drusilla said. “Pancake day? You remember? You promised?”
“Oh, right, I did.” Julian tugged affectionately on one of his little sister’s braids. “You go wake up Livvy and Ty, and I’ll—”
“They’re already awake,” Dru said. “They’re in the kitchen. Waiting.” She looked at him pointedly.