♕

Cordelia and Dahlia ascended the steps to the raised cherrywood stage in the middle of the room. 

Kellington, standing beside them, clapped his hands, and the crowd began to quiet. James began to applaud loudly, and beside him, following his lead, Matthew did the same. Anna, snuggled next to Hypatia on the settee, also clapped, causing Kellington to glance toward her and frown. Hypatia looked back at him with wide, starry eyes and shrugged.

Kellington cleared his throat. "Honored guests," he said. "Tonight we have something unusual. Two Shadowhunters have offered to entertain us."

A murmur ran through the room. James and Matthew kept clapping, and a dark-haired vampire girl with bright combs in her hair joined in the applause. Anna leaned over and whispered in Hypatia's ear.

"Please enjoy the performance of the lovely Cordelia Carstairs and Dahlia Bridgestock," Kellington said, hastily turning to descend the stairs.

Cordelia laid a hand on his arm. "We will require you to accompany me," she said. "On the violin."

Kellington, looking annoyed, strode off to retrieve his instrument. As he moved through the crowd, Cordelia, looking far calmer than Dahlia suspected she was, reached up and unpinned her hair. 

"I'm going to do an old Persian dance mixed with a story, are you familiar with it?" she asked her. Dahlia smiled, "I believe I am. You are bold, Daisy." she said shaking her head lightly.

Dahlia shook her hair lightly, stashing her comb in the folds of her dress. 

"Cordelia Carstairs, please do the honors. We must bedazzle Matthew and James. Leave them gaping Daisy, gaping." said Dahlia smiling widely. Cordelia shook her head.

"I have always loved stories," she said, and her clear voice carried through the room. "One of my favorite tales is that of the servant girl Tawaddud. After the death of a rich merchant, his son wasted all the inheritance he got until he had nothing left but one servant, a girl known through all the caliphate for her brilliance and her beauty. Her name was Tawaddud. She begged the son to take her to the court of the caliph Harun al-Rashid, and there to sell her for a vast sum of money. The son insisted he could not get such a princely sum for the sale of one servant. Tawaddud insisted she would convince the caliph that there was no wiser or more eloquent or learned woman in all the land but she. Eventually the son was worn down. He brought her to the court, and she came before the caliph, and she told him this."

Cordelia nodded at Kellington, who had come to stand beside the stage. He began to play a haunting tune on the violin, and Cordelia began to move.

It was a dance, but not a dance. She moved fluidly with Cortana. It was gold and she followed that gold in fire. She spoke, and her low, husky voice matched the dance and the music of the violin.

"Oh my Lord, I am versed in syntax and poetry and jurisprudence and exegesis and philosophy. I am skilled in music and in the knowledge of the divine ordinances, and in arithmetic and geodesy and geometry and the fables of the ancients."

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. 

"I have studied the exact sciences, geometry and philosophy, and medicine and logic and rhetoric and composition."

Cordelia sank to her knees. Her sword whipped around her, a narrow circlet of fire. The violin sang, and her body sang.

"I can play the lute and know its gamut and notes and notation and the crescendo and diminuendo."

"If I sing and dance, I seduce."  Cordelia straightened with a snap. Her eyes met the gaze of her audience, direct and challenging. 

"And if I dress and scent myself, I slay." Cordelia slammed Cortana into its sheath. Kellington had stopped playing the violin; he, too, was staring at Cordelia like a lovesick sheep.

Cordelia rose to her feet, her chest rising and falling with her quick breath. "And wise men were brought from around the land to test Tawaddud, but she was wiser than them all. So wise and beautiful was she that in the end, the caliph granted her whatever it was she wanted—all the wishes of her heart."

Cordelia.

"And that is the end of the story," she said.

Dahlia stepped forward, a soft smile on her lips. "Like other emotions, detailed so magnificently in the epics and Puranas, love is a celebrated, even a revered emotion. Love was honoured and revealed as a powerful emotion and the God and Goddess of Love, the beautiful couple Kama and Rati."

"Radha broke every conventional rule when she fell in love with Krishna," Dahlia said, slowly dancing to the steps of the sacred dances of her childhood. She remembered how her mother had guided her through the steps of bharatanatyam, since she was five.
When she had died when she was seven, Dahlia was hellbent on continuing in the library with her sister assisting her.

Her posture was graceful and fluid, as it should be. Her hands flew in languid motions her eyes vibrant.

She glided to the other end of the stage, for a moment she forgot she was on the Hell Ruelle. She was in her house, in the library, it was nearly midnight. Kamala was dancing with her, their movements a rhythm all by itself.

"Her convictions of her endless love turned from the ordinary to the extraordinary." Dahlia said, her voice a soft but carried through the room.

"Krishna, himself becomes a symbol of romance and the love of Radha and Krishna is considered one of the highest kind, both divine and yet rebellious. Transcending societal mores to a heavenly acceptance so much so that Radha Krishna are together known as the feminine and the masculine aspects of God."

Dahlia ended with a flourish of spinning and a little gliding making it look almost as if she were flying.

She ended on the floor her dress strewn out around her in a circle, her hair undone from it's braid and falling below her hips in long dark tresses.

"Such is the power of love." she said, her breath catching, her right hand was arched over her head and the left hand was around her.

She stood up, and made a small cursty and began to descend the steps with Cordelia walking down behind her.

Dahlia had never been stared at by so many people in her life. Escaping the stage, she slithered into the crowd, though it was a different crowd than it had been—everyone seemed to want to smile at her now, or incline their heads, or wink. Several Downworlders said, "Beautifully done," as she passed.

She murmured her thanks and was immensely grateful when she reached James and Matthew. James seemed completely composed; Matthew was looking at her with wide eyes. "Bloody hell," he said admiringly, as soon as she came into range. He looked far more serious than he usually did. "What was that?"

"It was a fairy tale," James said briefly. "Well done, Cordelia, Dahlia you were wonderful." He indicated the now-empty jacquard settee. "Anna has disappeared with Hypatia, so I would call your distraction a success."

Dahlia put a hand to her chest; her heart was pounding, from nerves and from the dancing. "What do we do now?" Cordelia said. "How long does seduction usually last?"

"Depends if you do it properly," said Matthew, with a little of his old grin. Dahlia slapped him over the head.

"Well, I hope for Hypatia's sake that Anna does it properly, yet for our sake I hope she hurries it up," said James.

Matthew had gone still. "The three of you," he said. "Listen."

Dahlia listened, and heard at first only the buzz and murmur of the crowd. Then, beneath it, the whisper of a familiar word, spoken low and urgently.

A Shadowhunter. A Shadowhunter is here.

"Do they mean us?" Cordelia looked around in puzzlement and saw Kellington gazing toward the door, his mouth flat with irritation. Someone had just come into the chamber—someone with bright red hair, wearing a heavy tweed coat.

"Charles." Matthew's eyes were green slits. "By the Angel. What is he doing here?"

James swore softly. Charles was moving through the crowd, his coat buttoned to the throat, looking around uncomfortably. He looked desperately out of place.

"We should go," James said. "But we can't leave Anna."

"You two run and hide yourselves," said Matthew. "Charles will go off his head if he sees you here."

"But what about you, and Dahlia?" said Cordelia.

Dahlia waved her hand, "In Charles's eyes me and Matthew are engaged. It makes most sense for him to bring me hear. Now you two shoo!" she said, dropping a wink in Cordelia's direction.

Matthew's eyes were glittering like chips of glass. "I'll deal with Charles."

James looked at Matthew for a long moment. James nodded at Matthew, turned, and caught hold of Cordelia's hand. "This way," he said, and they plunged into the crowd.

"Charles!" Matthew said his name with exaggerated loud surprise. Dahlia rolled her eyes and poked his chest. "Less exaggeration, Fairchild." 

As Charles made his way from across the room, Matthew looked at Dahlia. "How did you learn to dance like that? I've know you for most of my life and-"

"There are many things you don't know about me Matthew." she said.

Matthew blinked softly.

"Matthew! By the Angel! Why are you here? With Dahlia of all people! I  think you should have brought Anna! She would have looked after you at least you-" he started. Dahlia sighed.

"Charles," she said. "Unless you would like a angry comment about your stupid red hair I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Why me and Matthew are here without Anna is none of your concern. If you know what's best fro your reputation I would tell you to leave. Now." Dahlia hissed. Charles looked abashed.

"Dahlia-" he started.

Dahlia held up her hand, "Do not bother. I do not have the time to listen to your excuses." 

Charles rolled his eyes and left them without another word.

Matthew looked at Dahlia, his eyes dark green. "Well done, chere." Dahlia groaned.

"You did not just call me a cherry."

Matthew cracked a grin. "Do you not know what it means?" he asked. Dahlia glared at him.

"No, no I do not Fairchild. Now come on, James and Cordelia must be waiting for us."

Matthew laughed, tilting his head back but allowed Dahlia to drag him away.

He took out his flask and took a sip, Dahlia could smell the brandy. She took it from him, he looked at her surprised. She took a small sip, "By the Angel, Matthew how do you drink this-?" 

Matthew simply shook his head and took the flask from her and kept it in his jacket. Dahlia suddenly remembered her golden shawl, then realized with all the commotion it must be long gone by now. She sighed.

"All right, why would Charles be here?" Dahlia asked. "The Clave seems to be asking Downworlders what they know about these demons that can travel in the daytime."

"OH my Angel, they finally used their heads!" Dahlia exclaimed, throwing her hands up. Matthew rolled his eyes.

They opened a room closest to where Dahlia had seen Cordelia and James disappear into.

James and Cordelia were kissing on a desk. 

James froze, and a moment later scrambled up and off the desk, seizing his coat. He handed it to Cordelia as she sat up hurriedly.

Matthew stood on the threshold, staring at them both. Dahlia shielded her eyes form the scene. "Oh for the love of the Angel, we left you two alone for five minutes."

"James," Matthew said, and he sounded as if he didn't quite believe the evidence of his own eyes. His expression was tense and sharp as his eyes flicked from James to Cordelia's shoes, discarded on the floor.

Dahlia suddenly felt her mood die down almost instantly.

"We're not meant to be in here," Cordelia said hurriedly. "James thought if we pretended—I mean, if someone came in and thought—"

"I understand," Matthew said, looking not at her, but at James. And James, Dahlia thought, looked composed—so composed, as if nothing had happened. Only his hair was mussed a little, and his tie askew, but his expression was unremarkable: calm, faintly curious. 

"Is Charles still here?" he said.

Languidly, Matthew leaned against the doorframe. His hands moved slowly as he spoke, describing pale arcs in the air. "He left. He gave me quite a dressing-down first, I can assure you, for spending my time in such a swamp of debauchery and ruin. He said he thought I would have at least brought you or Anna to look after me." He grimaced.

"Hard luck, old chap," said James, turning to Cordelia, and reaching out a hand to help her down from the desk.

"Dahlia told him off though." he said, shooting Dahlia a smile.

Dahlia ignored him.

"The Enclave is looking into what Downworlders know about the situation," said Matthew. "Days after we already had the idea, of course."

"We ought to leave," said James. "Charles may have gone, but nothing prevents other Clave members from making an unwelcome appearance."

"We have to warn Anna," said Cordelia, clearing her throat.

Matthew's smile was brittle. "Hypatia won't like that."

"Hypatia won't like many thing, Fairchild." Dahlia snapped. He looked at her, his green eyes wide.

"Still," Cordelia said stubbornly, retrieving one shoe, and then the other. "We must."

They hurried down the damask-papered hallway in silence. The scent of the smoke in the Whispering Room clung to her hair and clothes, sickly sweet.

"Here," Matthew said, as an ornately carved golden door rose up in front of them, its knob carved in the shape of a dancing nymph. It seemed Hypatia had altered the entrance to her room, just as she had altered the walls in the central chamber. "The bedroom of Hypatia Vex. Cordelia, I assume you wish to knock?"

Before she could move, the nymph-knob turned, and Anna opened the door in a wash of bronze light and a heavy rush of scent, redolent of white flowers: jasmine and tuberose. Anna's hair was mussed and the collar of her shirt hung open to display a ruby necklace glimmering red as blood against her throat. She held a wooden box, carved with the ourobouros and dark with the patina of years, in her left hand.

"Shhh," she whispered, glaring at them. "Hypatia's asleep, but she won't stay that way long. Take it!"

And she tossed the Pyxis to James.

"Then we're done," said Matthew. "Come along with us."

"And make Hypatia suspicious? Don't be ridiculous." Anna rolled her blue eyes. "Off you go, conspirators. I've done my part, and the rest of my evening will not require you."

"Anna?" Hypatia's voice sounded from somewhere inside the bronze-lit room. "Anna, darling, where are you?"

"Take my carriage," Anna whispered. Then she smiled. "And you did very well, Cordelia. They'll be talking about that dance for ages, Dahlia, darling."

She winked and shut the door in their faces.

♕

Dahlia was about to drill a hole through Matthew's skull.

Matthew Fairchild was an interesting case to Dahlia, he could make it seem like he didn't care like the flick of a switch. He could also make his emotions clear like the flowing water in the Thames. Which was not clear at all.

Which was Dahlia's point.

He had been nice to her for the first time since she had met him yesterday, it had confused the wits out of her. She had always told herself that Matthew Fairchild hated her and she hated him. Now she was growing more and more confused by the days what they were.

She pushed her thoughts aside as Cordelia Carstairs entered the room.

The room burst into cheerful laughter and merry chatter as it always did when Cordelia entered the room.

Dahlia lingered by the windows watching everyone swarm the red head.

Lucie, Christopher, James, Matthew, and Thomas were standing in a circle around the Pyxis that had been placed in the middle of the room. 

 It was made of a dark golden wood, with the pattern of the ouroboros, the snake swallowing its own tail, burned into four of its sides. A handle protruded from the top.

"Cordelia!" Lucie exclaimed. "We were just exchanging information. We learned a great deal that was important at the Enclave meeting last night, and it sounds as if you did something or other at the Hell Ruelle. Nothing that compelling, no doubt, but we cannot all be spies."

"I heard about the meeting from my brother this morning," said Cordelia, joining the others in their makeshift circle. Like Dahlia, Lucie, Cordelia and the boys were in gear. Dahlia had kept her hair in a low bun this time. "The quarantine and—and all the rest."

"It seems even more urgent to find and trap the demon responsible for this contagion now, before it attacks anyone else," Dahlia said, her voice carrying across the room.

Christopher enthusiastically waved an enormous book he was holding, his glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. The words On the Uses of Pyxides and Other Phylacteries were stamped across the front in gold. "It appears that this generation of Pyxis is fairly simple. When you wish to trap a demon, you first wound or weaken it. Then you place the Pyxis on the ground nearby and speak the words 'Thaam Tholach Thechembaor,' and the demon will be sucked into the box."

The Pyxis wobbled sharply, nearly tipping onto its side. Everyone jumped about a foot back.

"It's alive," Thomas said, staring. "Not the Pyxis, I mean—well, you know what I mean."

"Indeed," said James. "I see a flaw in our plan."

Matthew nodded. "I do as well. What if the Pyxis has an occupant? There was no real reason to assume the box at Hypatia's was empty. It could have had a demon in it all these years."

They all stared at each other.

"What would happen if we tried to put another demon in there?" Cordelia asked at last. "Could they both fit?"

Dahlia leaped down and went over to Christopher, prying the book out of his hands.

"It isn't a good idea," said Dahlia, consulting the book. "Since we don't know what kind of demon is already in there, we don't know if there will be enough space. Pyxides are bigger inside than they appear, but still finite." Christopher loomed behind her.

"Well, then we have to empty this Pyxis out," Lucie said practically. "Anything could be in there. It could be a Greater Demon."

"What ho," said Christopher sadly.

"I'm sure it isn't," said James. "Still—let's relocate to the Sanctuary. No matter what happens, we can at least keep it contained until help arrives."

"Why not?" said Matthew. "Surely there's no way this plan can go wrong."

James raised an eyebrow. "Have you got another idea?"

"I think we should do it," said Thomas. "It's ridiculous to come this far and turn back."

Lucie sniffed. "Well, you'd all better hope it works. Especially you, James, because if Mam and Papa find out you released a demon in the Sanctuary, they will feed you to it."

James shot Lucie a dark older-brother glare. 

They relocated themselves to the Sanctuary, James carrying the Pyxis carefully, as if it were an infernal device that might explode at any moment. 

They arrived at the Sanctuary, the only room in the Institute where Downworlders could freely enter without being invited in by a Shadowhunter. It was warded all around with spells preventing them from entering the main body of the Institute. Meetings with prominent Downworlders were often held there, and Downworlders could even seek refuge in a Sanctuary under the Accords.

It was certainly clear that the London Institute had once been a cathedral, and a large one. Massive stone pillars stretched up to a vaulted roof. Thomas had produced a box of vestas and was moving around the room, lighting a dozen enormous candelabras, their sconces stuffed with fat white candles that cast a glimmering light. The tapestries and pillars were all traced with the designs of runes, as were the tiles of the floor. Dahlia had to admit that if one was going to release a demon, this seemed one of the better places to do it.

In the middle of the room was a dry stone fountain, in the center of which stood the statue of an angel with folded wings, its stone face streaked with black lines like tears.

James set the box on the floor, directly on top of a rune of angelic power. He knelt down, studying the Pyxis. After a moment, he took an unlit seraph blade from the inside of his coat.

"Arm yourselves, everyone," he said.

Cordelia unsheathed Cortana; the others drew seraph blades as James had done, save Thomas and Dahlia, who took out his bolas and Dahlia took out her twin scimitars. 

James reached out and took hold of the handle of the Pyxis.

James twisted the handle sideways, as if turning a corkscrew. There was a loud click as the Pyxis popped open. All through the Sanctuary, the white candles spat and guttered. James sprang back, raising his blade.

There was a sound like the whistle of a train at night, and smoke billowed from the open Pyxis, bringing with it a foul, burnt smell. Dahlia coughed, raising the scimitars. James called out, "Barachiel!" and the light of his seraph blade cut through the smoke, followed by the blades of the others—Matthew, Christopher, and Lucie. 

Something was rising through the smoke—something like a massive caterpillar, greenish in color, with a segmented, undulating body and a smooth head slashed across by a lipless mouth. The mouth cracked open, showing row upon row of blackened teeth. Then it spoke.

"At last I am free,"it hissed. "I, Agaliarept, am free to recover the domain of my master, stolen from him by a demon of great cunning. I shall retrieve his lost world and flood this one with blood and death." Its blind head turned toward the Shadowhunters. "Those who have freed me, what is thy bidding? Speak! I am commanded to do anything you ask."

"Anything?" said Matthew curiously.

There was a flash of light as James's seraph blade arced through the smoke and plunged into the demon's middle. Black ichor sprayed as the demon shrieked in a high, chittering voice. The candles guttered and went out as James pulled his blade free; he was spattered with black fluid, his jaw set, his eyes glittering.

The demon howled and vanished, leaving only smoke and stink behind. Lucie staggered back, coughing, her face screwed up in disgust.

"But it would have done our bidding!" Matthew protested.

"It seemed untrustworthy," said James, wiping ichor from his face with his sleeve. His seraph blade had gone dark.

"I thought he seemed all right, for a demon," said Christopher. "You know."

"I could have asked for Matthew to be shipped to New York!" Dahlia protested. Matthew shot ehr a dark look.

"They would love me, in New York." he said, haughtly.

"No, they would throw you into the Pacific ocean." Dahlia said.

"What is going on here?" said a loud voice.

They all spun around.

Someone had come in through the door to the street outside. A tall man—very tall, with a shock of black hair. His skin was brown, a shade darker than Cordelia's own, his eyes gold-green and slit-pupilled like a cat's. He was dressed as if for a summer wedding, in a gray frock coat and trousers, with gray suede gloves and boots. The outfit was topped off by a magnificent waistcoat of gray-and-magenta brocade, a walking stick, and bright magenta spats.

"Magnus Bane?" said Matthew, with a mixture of amazement and horror.

Dahlia felt the urge to burst into fits of laughter.

Magnus Bane walked some distance into the Sanctuary, shaking his head as he studied the scene before him. "I want to know what you're doing, but I must confess I'm afraid to find out," he said. "A spot of demon-summoning, I gather?"

"It's a bit complicated," said James. "Hello, Magnus. It's good to see you."

"Last time I saw you, you were facedown in the Serpentine," Magnus said cheerfully. "Now you're fiddling with a Pyxis. I see you have decided to follow in the long Herondale tradition of poor decision-making."

"So have I!" said Lucie, determined not to be left out.

"I came all the way from Jakarta to have a meeting with Tessa and Will about this whole daylight demon plague business," Magnus said. "Yet when I knocked on the front door, no one answered. Thus I was forced to come in through the Sanctuary."

"It's odd they would have asked you to come here now," said Thomas. "Everyone over eighteen is out searching for the demons responsible for the attacks."

Magnus furrowed his brow. He lifted his hand to stare at the expensive-looking watch on his wrist and groaned. "It seems that I forgot to turn my watch backward and therefore have arrived six hours early. Bloody hell."

Matthew looked delighted. "We could have tea. I am a true enthusiast of your work, Mr. Bane. Also, your personal style. Your waistcoats alone..."

"Matthew, do shut up," said Dahlia. "Mr. Bane doesn't want to talk about waistcoats."

"Untrue," said Magnus. "I always want to talk about waistcoats. But I admit I'm more curious about this Pyxis." He drew closer and poked at the box with his Malacca walking stick. "Am I correct in deducing that you opened the box on purpose and let a Palpis demon out?"

"Yes," said James.

"... Why?" said Magnus.

"We need to be able to use the Pyxis," Matthew burst out. "To trap a demon. So it had to be empty. We were just—clearing it out."

Jame sighed. "Matthew, you would be a terrible spy. You might not break under torture, but you'd tell someone anything they wanted to know in exchange for a nice pair of trousers."

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Dahlia said. She turned to Magnus. "You want this demon business over, right? You don't want any more Shadowhunters to die?"

Magnus looked startled to be addressed so forcefully. "I am generally not on the side of murderous demons, no."

"Then perhaps you could help us," James said, and quickly outlined their plan, or at least as much of it as he could tell without breaking faith with Ragnor. Their belief that they were seeking a kind of demon that could only be trapped by a Pyxis. James's vision of the shadow realm and reason to think that the demon would be on Tower Bridge. As he spoke, Magnus looked more and more curious. By the end of the story, Magnus had seated himself on the edge of the fountain, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"This is quite a collection of suppositions," he said, when James was done. "But I must ask, especially you, Lucie and James—why do you not seek your parents' assistance with this? Why the secrecy?"

"Because we made a promise," said Matthew. "To the person who gave us the key that unlocked a great deal of this information. And we can't break it."

Magnus smiled an odd sideways smile. "Ragnor told me that he trusted you with some information, and it appears that you have not betrayed his trust. Not many Shadowhunters would honor such a vow made to a Downworlder. Since I am Ragnor's best friend, or at least the only person who can tolerate him for long stretches, I will keep your secret." He glanced from James to Lucie. "In days past, when I knew your parents well, they probably would have been spearheading this plan." He stood up. "But now they are no longer children. They are parents, and thus devoted to something they love more than their own lives. So indeed, perhaps they should not be told."

Even Matthew and Dahlia had no response to that.

"Well, good luck," Magnus said, picking up his walking stick. "I suppose I shall go to Hatchards for a few hours. There is no better distraction in this world than losing oneself in books for a while."

Cordelia stepped forward, her hands held out as if to prevent him from leaving. "Mr. Bane," she said. "I know it is a great deal to ask, especially when you have promised to keep our secrets. But would you help us?"

Magnus tapped gloved fingers on the head of his cane. "You're a Carstairs, right? Cordelia Carstairs?"

"Yes, I'm Jem's cousin," Cordelia said. "Look—we know this is a wild plan, but it could save many lives. You needn't help us directly, or get involved in the fighting. I understand you feel loyalty to our parents. But you could help us very much just by casting a spell to keep mundanes off Tower Bridge while we venture onto it. It would be safer for them, too."

Magnus hesitated. It was utterly silent in the Sanctuary. Dahlia imagined she could hear the sound of the blood pounding in her ears as Magnus considered Cordelia's request.

At last the warlock shrugged a silk-suited shoulder. "Very well," he said. "Even though that green bastard Ragnor has hared off to Capri, I don't think he would have wanted you to put yourselves in danger because of a promise to him. I'll keep an eye on you, but remember—if I see anything I think Will and Tessa need to know, I will tell them about it posthaste."

♕