“Can you tell if Julian’s all right?” Livvy asked, propping her chin on her hand to look at Emma anxiously. “You know, how he’s feeling . . .”
Emma shook her head. “Parabatai stuff isn’t really like that. I mean, I can feel if he’s hurt, physically, but not his emotions so much.”
Livvy sighed. “It would be so great to have a parabatai.”
“I don’t really see why,” Ty said.
“Someone who always has your back,” said Livvy. “Someone who will always protect you.”
“I would do that for you anyway,” Ty said, pulling a map toward himself. This was an argument they’d had before; Emma had heard some variation of it half a dozen times.
“Not everyone’s cut out to have one,” she said. She wished for a moment that she had the words to explain it properly: how loving someone more than you loved yourself gave you strength and courage; how seeing yourself in your parabatai’s eyes meant seeing the best version of yourself; how, at its best, fighting alongside your parabatai was like playing instruments in harmony with one another, each piece of the music improving the other.
“Having someone who’s sworn to shield you from danger,” said Livvy, her eyes shining. “Someone who would put their hands in a fire for you.”
Briefly Emma remembered that Jem had once told her that his parabatai, Will, had thrust his hands into a fire to retrieve a packet of medicine that would save Jem’s life. Maybe she shouldn’t have repeated the story to Livvy.
“In the movies Watson throws himself in front of Sherlock when there’s gunfire,” Ty said, looking thoughtful. “That’s like parabatai.”
Livvy looked mildly outfoxed, and Emma felt for her. If Livvy said it wasn’t like parabatai, Ty would argue. If she agreed it was, he would point out you didn’t need to be parabatai to jump in front of someone when there was danger. He wasn’t wrong, but she sympathized with Livvy’s desire to be parabatai with Ty. To make sure her brother was always by her side.
“Got it!” Drusilla announced suddenly. She stood up from rummaging around in the map chest with a long piece of parchment in her hands. Livvy, abandoning the parabatai discussion, hurried over to help her carry it to the table.
In a clear bowl on the table’s center was a heap of sea glass the Blackthorns had collected over the years—lumps of milky blue, green, copper, and red. Emma and Ty used the blue glass to weigh down the edges of the ley line map.
Tavvy, now sitting on the edge of the table, had begun sorting the rest of the sea glass into piles by color. Emma let him; she didn’t know how else to keep him distracted just now.
“Ley lines,” Emma said, running her index finger over the long black lines on the map. It was a map of Los Angeles that probably dated back to the forties. Landmarks were visible under the ley lines: the Crossroads of the World in Hollywood, the Bullocks building on Wilshire, the Angels Flight railroad in Bunker Hill, the Santa Monica Pier, the never-changing curve of the coast and the ocean. “All the bodies were left under the span of a ley line. But what Magnus said is that there are places where all the ley lines converge.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Livvy asked, practical as always.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think he would have said it if it didn’t matter. I imagine the place of convergence has some pretty powerful magic.”
As Ty applied himself to the map with renewed vigor, Cristina came into the library and gestured for Emma to come talk to her. Emma slid off the table and followed Cristina to the coffeemaker by the window. It was witchlight powered, which meant there was always coffee, although the coffee wasn’t always very good.
“Is Julian all right?” Emma asked. “And Mark?”
“They were talking when I left.” Cristina filled two cups with black coffee and dumped in sugar from a small enamel pot on the windowsill. “Julian calmed him down.”
“Julian could calm anyone down.” Emma picked up the second cup of coffee, enjoying the warmth against her skin, though she didn’t really like coffee and didn’t tend to drink it. Besides, her stomach was tied in so many knots she didn’t think she could force anything down.
She walked back toward the table where the Blackthorns were arguing about the ley line map. “Well, I can’t help it if it doesn’t make sense,” Ty was saying peevishly. “That’s where it says the convergence is.”
“Where?” Emma asked, coming up behind him.
“Here.” Dru pointed at a circle Ty had sketched on the map in pencil. It was over the ocean, farther out from Los Angeles than Catalina Island. “So much for anyone doing magic there.”
“Guess Magnus was just making conversation,” said Livvy.
“He probably didn’t know—” Emma began, and broke off as the library door opened.