♕

"So what is this contraption?" Christopher wondered aloud, prodding gingerly at the adamas object Thomas had retrieved from Golden Square. 

It sat squatly in the middle of the round table in the upstairs room of the Devil Tavern; around the table were ranged James, Matthew, Christopher, Dahlia, Lucie, and Cordelia. Anna sat on her own in a wing-backed chair with stuffing sprouting from its arms. Several bottles of whiskey stood half-empty on a windowsill. 

Anna had arrived at the Devil sometime in the afternoon, only waving away the question when the others asked her whether she had learned anything. 

"I warned him," Dahlia had said the moment they entered the Devil's, sinking down next to Christopher. "I knew Thomas was going out on his own last night, and I warned him not to do it. I must not have been convincing enough."

It was Matthew who broke the silence. "We all warned him, Dahlia, but Thomas is a bloody-minded stubborn bastard. Though quite tiny when he was young, and really," he added, "rather adorable, like a guinea pig or a mouse."

James thwacked Matthew gently on the back of the head. "I believe what he means to say is that it cannot be the responsibility of one's friends to prevent one from doing something one believes is right," he said. "It is, however, the job of one's friends to rescue one from the consequences of one's actions when it all goes skew-whiff."

Lucie clapped and called out, "Hear, hear!" With a half smile, Anna patted Lucie absently on the hand. Anna looked tired, though still perfectly coiffed, her hair a careful cap of finger-combed waves, her boots gleaming with fresh polish.

"All right," she said. "I did learn a few things, though not as much as I'd have liked. One fact that might prove of interest, though: Lilian Highsmith's body was missing a Precision rune."

"So that settles it," said Matthew. "Someone's murdering Shadowhunters to steal their runes. And we know for certain that James isn't the murderer," he added. "Or Thomas, either." 

"No," said James, "but Belial is involved somehow. That sigil on my windowsill—I think I drew it myself, without realizing I was doing it, just as I opened my window. I think there was a part of my mind, a hidden part, that knew, and was trying to warn the conscious part of me. Belial has certainly been sending me these dreams, these visions. I cannot for the life of me guess why."

"Do you think he wanted Thomas arrested?" Christopher asked.

 "No," James said slowly, "though I cannot be sure, but it seems—small, for Belial. Most human beings are beneath his notice, unless they get in his way. And I cannot see how Thomas was in his way."

"Perhaps he simply wanted the Enclave's attention averted," Cordelia said, "from whoever is really doing this, and their connection to Belial." 

"As far as the Enclave goes, the news has started to leak out that it's Thomas who's suspected. About half of those who know think he did it, and the other half still think it's a warlock, or a Downworlder who's hired a warlock," said Anna.

"Perhaps it would help if we figured out what this does," Christopher said, indicating the adamas object. "Then we might know if it was Miss Highsmith's, or the killer's, or something else entirely. Oh—I've decided to call it a pithos. It's a sort of container in Greek mythology."

 "But we can't be sure there's anything inside it, Kit," said Matthew. "It could be one of Miss Highsmith's paperweights. She might have had a tremendous collection."

"I don't believe it was hers. I think the killer dropped it at the murder scene. It certainly isn't a Shadowhunter object—not with runes like this on it." Christopher sighed, his lilac eyes mournful. "I just don't like it when I don't know what things do."

"I don't like it that Bridgestock seems to have it in for Thomas," Matthew said. "He seems desperate to see him convicted."

"I've always had the sense," said James, "that Bridgestock was none too fond of any of us—our parents, really. I don't know why. He's older; perhaps he finds them irresponsible. He probably thinks that if he's the one to catch the killer, he might get promoted, or win the next Consul term."

Dahlia snorted. "Over Charles?"

"Enough about politics," said Cordelia. "Thomas is languishing in jail—I know it's the Sanctuary, but it's still jail—and so is my brother. I know you don't care particularly what happens to Alastair, but I do."

Dahlia sighed looking away, she stared away at the ceiling.

"Thank you for the enlightenment, Daisy." Dahlia muttered lowly. She hadn't meant the words to come out quite so pugnaciously, she felt awful after a few moments, but it didn't seem like anyone heard her.

After a moment, James said, "Daisy, what Alastair did was quite brave. Not in the least because he did it for someone he knows dislikes him."

"We do care what happens to Alastair, despite Matthew's constant protests." Dahlia said, trying to smile warmly at the girl.

"We do?" Christopher sighed. "I feel as if I can never quite keep up. Why was he following Thomas again?"

"For me," Cordelia said firmly. "So I wouldn't worry." 

Christopher looked as if he had another question. Quickly, Anna interrupted, "One thing I feel has not been mentioned is that these killings have all happened near dawn. As if for some reason, the murderer is waiting for the night to near its end."

Dahlia edged near Christopher, "What were you going to say Chris?" she whispered. Christopher blinked a bit, "Do they not like each other, Thomas and Alastair I mean." 

Dahlia tilted her head. "It seems like it, I wouldn't be surprised if they left that sanctuary with a whole relationship." she whispered back.

Christopher sighed. "Thomas and Alastair seem to really like each other-" he started, Dahlia slouched against him.

"They do...." she muttered, placing a hand to her head. Christopher looked at her worriedly. 

"Are you all right Dahlia?" 

She nodded shaking the small spurt of dizziness away. "I'm fine."

Christopher looked at her dubiously before trying to take part in the conversation

"Truly, our knife-faced demon is a clever fiend," Christopher said, causing Matthew to gaze at his flask.

 James looked thoughtfully at the pithos. "One of these runes resembles a rune for 'dawn,'" he observed.

Dahlia picked the box up, turning it over in her hand. Like all adamas, it was smooth and cool to the touch, humming with a sense of potential power. At first glance, the etched designs on the object resembled a matted tangle of yarn, individual runes indistinguishable from each other. But as she gazed at them, she began to detect a pattern of jagged, branching designs, as if additions and modifications had been made to familiar runes. It was like nothing else she had quite seen before.

"There must be someone who can tell us what this is," she said. "I agree with Christopher. It feels quite unlikely to be anything a Shadowhunter would have owned."

"It is very odd that it's adamas," said Matthew. "Only the Iron Sisters mine it, and only Shadowhunters can use it."

"Technically, but there is quite an underground trade in the stuff," said Anna. "Old steles and the like fetch a price at the Shadow Market. Not many can work the material, but it has potency as a catalyst for magic."

"Well, there it is," James said. "We must go to the Shadow Market. It's in Southwark, isn't it? Near St. Saviour's?" 

Matthew took a long drink from his flask. "I despise the Shadow Market."

Dahlia wanted to put her head in her hands, the Shadow Market wasn't exactly a calling for either of them.

James looked puzzled.

"Besides," said Matthew, glancing at her, "if we go around asking who sells demonic adamas, I'm sure that won't bring us any unwanted attention." 

Christopher brightened, excited by the prospect. "Capital idea. The sun's nearly down; we can go straightaway."

"Alas, I cannot join you," Anna said, rising gracefully from her chair. "I have patrol tonight."

Dahlia stared at Anna in puzzlement. She made a small note to herself to talk with Ariadne later. Preferably when Maurice wasn't home.

She was distracted by Matthew, who was refilling his flask from one of the bottles on the sill. 

His hands trembled slightly. Dahlia wished she could approach him, say something comforting, but what he had told her was a secret. She must pretend as if she saw nothing wrong. 

Feeling as if she were being stabbed, she trailed after the others, staring back despite Christopher's excited chattering.

♕

Dahlia leaned out the window of the carriage she was sharing with Lucie and Cordelia as they approached the southern end of London Bridge. The scent of the Market was on the air: incense and spices, hot wine and a charred smell like burning bone. Night had only just fallen, and the sunset brushed the sky with copper and flame. It was one of those times, Dahlia thought, when the world seemed improbably big, and full of possibilities.

She sprang out of the carriage as soon as it drew up, the other girls following after her. The stalls and stands and carts of the Shadow Market snaked away beneath an arched, glass-paned ceiling supported by tall iron girders, tucked between Southwark and Borough High Streets. Stands that held fruits and vegetables and flowers during the morning had been transformed by Downworlder merchants into a colorful, noisy bazaar, the stalls lit by sparkling lights and decorated with painted signs and lengths of colored silk.

Dahlia took a deep breath of the incense-scented air as James's carriage rattled up and he, Christopher, and Matthew spilled out, James brushing off Christopher's coat where he had somehow managed to spill powder on it. A roar of sound rose up from the bazaar, like soft thunder: Come buy! Come buy!

James went over to Lucie who was standing very close to the Market, Matthew and Christopher walked towards them in quiet steps.

Dahlia dashed to him, clasping her hands in his. "Math, can you stay close to me? Please?" she asked quietly. Matthew nodded slowly, "Of course Dahlia. Anything for you."

Dahlia only smiled. Christopher looked at them questioningly. "He has a fear of...Vampires." Dahlia said rolling her eyes.

Christopher snorted.

The group convened in a central space, where the stalls were arranged around them in a square. Lucie released James's arm so he could consult a hand-lettered directory nailed to a post. Matthew gazed warily at a vampire selling bottles of "special" ginger beer as Christopher produced a long scroll of paper from his pocket. Cordelia had darted off to examine a stall selling hand-tooled leather scabbards and wrist gauntlets.

"What have you got there?" Dahlia asked Christopher, peering over his shoulder at a list of unfamiliar terms. 

"Oh, this? It's my shopping list," Christopher said. "What with the curfew business, I haven't been able to attend the Market for quite sometime, and I've got ingredients to acquire."

He set off briskly along a winding path between the stalls. Dahlia followed; to her amusement, the vendors greeted him enthusiastically: 

"Mr. Lightwood! A new shipment of marrubium has just come in. Would you be interested?" 

"Christopher Lightwood! Just the man I was hoping to see! I've got the materials we discussed last time we spoke—top grade, very rare...."

As Dahlia watched, Christopher paused to haggle with a werewolf who was selling dried roots and fungi, eventually walking away empty-handed, only to return when the werewolf called after him to accept the price he'd offered. 

"Christopher haggles like an expert!" Cordelia exclaimed rushing to Lucie.

Dahlia laughed as she was whisked away by Matthew who had one hand in his pocket and the other around her waist as they walked past a few stalls.

"How are you liking it so far?" Matthew asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It brings back fond memories." Dahlia giggled, playing with his fingers which were splayed across her waist.

"Fond memories which include you trying to murder me?"

"Oh those are the fondest." Dahlia said wistfully.

Matthew rolled his eyes, sipping from his flask.

There was a call for Matthew from James, Matthew turned around smiling at Dahlia apologetically and ducking away to his parabatai.

Dahlia dashed to Christopher's side as she always did when seeking comfort or safety.

"Chris! Look there!" Dahlia cried pointing to a beautiful lit stall. Christopher looked dubious. "It could be an illusion, Dahlia."

Dahlia sighed sadly. "I suppose."

"But let's go look no matter." Christopher said, smiling softly at her. She returned it with a glowing smile.

It was a faerie stall which looked like it predicted the future somewhat. Christopher tilted his head, "Go ahead, I'll wait here."

Dahlia smiled, kissing his cheek briefly and ducking inside. There was a lady who looked about twenty, then again you couldn't be sure with Fair Folk, and had bright green hair and yellow eyes.

Dahlia offered a smile, the faerie looked at her peculiarly. 

"Kaashvi Joshi, bearer of Caliburn. What brings you to my humble stall?" asked the lady with the voice of a swan.

Dahlia blinked. "How do you-"

"I see all. I know all." she said.

"I see, what is your  name?" Dahlia asked, cautiously sitting down.

"Davina Court." the Faerie woman said curtly.

"Davina, hello, I'm-"

"You go by Dahlia Fairchild, I am aware. Now I ask you this, why chain yourself to a man you know can only love you with half his heart. The other belongs to someone else." Davina said, studying her nails.

Dahlia blanched. "He loves me-"

"He will leave you." Davina said rolling her eyes.

"No he will not!" Dahlia exclaimed furiously. Davina only looked at her with lazy yellow eyes.

"You mortals are all the same." she said sighing. Dahlia glared at her defiantly, and turned on her heel leaving the tent angrily.

"Let's go Christo-" she broke off at the sight in front of her.

Christopher had disappeared off, instead Matthew and James were arguing, Dahlia knew she ought to leave and she did, but as she left she heard a wisp of what Matthew was telling James.

"There is joy in being with someone you love, even knowing you can never have them, even knowing they will never love you back." Matthew was saying as she left the alley stall.

He only loves you with half his heart, came Davina's silky voice. Hot liquid trickled down Dahlia's cheeks. Once she was a fair distance away from Matthew and James, she looked around feverishly for Christopher. 

She whirled around at Cordelia's dancing voice, which only felt as if she had put salt into a wound.

There was a ton of hustling, in which Dahlia wiped away the tears from her eyes, and watched dazed as it fell on the snow, drops of red.

She realized, with aggravating slowness that tears weren't red. She looked down at her hands, they were covered in blood. A scream build up in Dahlia's throat.

Then as she blinked it all vanished, her hands were clear and the snow was white.

Her eyes widened. She heard Matthew, James and Cordelia come out of the alleyway speaking in hushed voices, she tried to move from her spot but it felt like she was frozen in place.

She breathed in a shaky breath, biting her lips she trudged through the snow, feeling as if she wanted to curl up and die.

Matthew's hand was wrapped in a handkerchief. Christopher appeared from a stall, smiling brightly at Dahlia.

"Hello Dahlia!" he called. Dahlia smiled back, and glanced behind her seeing Matthew's head whip up. 

Dahlia quickly looked away and back at Christopher. 

"I happened on some powdered hemlock root that was being offered at a terrific bargain—even better after I got him to throw in an adder's tongue." he said as she neared him with James, Cordelia and Lucie at  her heels.

Christopher pulled it out to show her—a tiny, leathery strip in a glass vial. "Have you lot turned up anything?"  he asked, glancing at the group behind Dahlia.

Dahlia practically stumbled into Christopher, he staggered a little but helped her upright.

"Did you eat or drink anything?" he asked her. Dahlia shook her head. "Not that I recall."

"Nothing worth pursuing," James said, answering Christopher. "No one's willing to talk about adamas to a pack of Shadowhunters. They assume we're trying to shut someone down, so they close ranks." 

Dahlia's hands were shaking, she was cold despite the fact that it had stopped snowing.

Your fault, came a voice in her head. Dahlia was sure she was going insane, she gasped sharply feeling as if she were drowning.

"The shopkeepers have reason to keep their counsel," said Christopher, griping her hand. "Nephilim raids have nearly wiped out the Market in the past."

"Perhaps we ought to start showing people the box," said Cordelia. "Seeing if they can say anything about the runes."

"What about someone who deals strictly in real, powerful magical artifacts?" Lucie asked. "There's quite a bit of junk here but also some real, expensive items. I could have sworn I saw a copy of the Red Scrolls of Magic."

"Or what about searching for warlocks for hire?" Matthew suggested. "What about—" He pointed. "Hypatia Vex?"

"Hypatia's here?" Dahlia asked. "But how—?" 

They had reached a part of the Market where caravans were set up in a loose circle. In the center of the circle a bonfire of enchanted flames burned: as the sparks rose up, they took on different shapes—roses, stars, towers, crescent moons, even a coach-and-four. Ahead of them, freshly painted in purple and gold, was a caravan with an elaborately lettered advertisement on the side for Hypatia Vex's new magic shop in Limehouse.

"Can we trust Hypatia?" said James. "She does seem to like Anna, but I'm not sure how far that liking stretches where we're concerned. Especially since we stole her Pyxis."

"She did mention that when Cordelia and I were at the Ruelle," said Matthew, shooting Cordelia a rueful look. "She seemed to have come to terms with it. And she likes me." 

"Does she?" Dahlia asked, raising an eyebrow. "I couldn't tell."

"Shadowhunters!" called a voice, rising above the noise of the Market. Dahlia turned to see Magnus Bane standing in the doorway of the purple and-gold caravan. He wore a fitted silver frock coat, brilliant peacock-blue trousers, and a matching embroidered waistcoat, with a watch on a glittering chain tucked into one pocket. Silver cuff links glittered at his wrists, and he wore a silver ring set with a luminous blue stone. "What on earth are you doing, wandering around the Shadow Market like chickens waiting to get your heads cut off? Come inside immediately."

 He shooed them in, shaking his head as they spilled into the caravan. Inside, Hypatia had left her mark on every surface: jewel-toned velvet cushions were piled on the fringed carpets; gilded mirrors and exquisitely framed Japanese illustrations lined the walls. Lamps glowed from coved niches, and in the center of the room was a small table covered in papers—scribblings about the Limehouse magic shop, from what Dahlia could see.

"Magnus!" Lucie said, delighted, as she and the others found places on the scattered cushions. It was delicious to be in the warmth after the icy night outside. Dahlia sank into a massive blue velvet cushion, wiggling her toes inside her boots as they began to thaw. Matthew settled beside her, his shoulder warm against her side. 

"Are you and Uncle Jem back, then? From the Spiral Labyrinth?" asked James.

"I'm only in London for tonight," Magnus explained, settling into a brightly painted rattan chair. "Hypatia has kindly allowed me to hole up here, as my flat is full of ice trolls. It's a bit of a long story. Brother Zachariah, alas, is still in the Labyrinth. His work ethic is unimpeachable."

Dahlia was suspicious, Magnus wouldn't leave Jem just there. Something was off, but Dahlia couldn't place her finger on what.

"Perhaps my information is out of date," Magnus went on, setting out a tray laden with small dishes of biscuits, nuts, and sugary jellies. "But isn't there a murderer on the loose in London? Should you lot really be out on your own? Not to mention the Shadow Market isn't that welcoming of Nephilim."

"Dealing with monsters is what we do," James said, reaching for a biscuit. "It's our job."

"And all the murders have happened in the early morning," Dahlia said. "So it doesn't follow that it's not safe in the evening." 

"Besides, the killer wouldn't dare strike here, not with so many Downworlders around. The murders have been happening in the shadows, on deserted streets," said Christopher. "Drawing from a sample set of five, the logical conclusion—"

"Oh dear, not logic, please." Magnus held his hands up in a conciliatory fashion. "Well, you certainly aren't the first generation of young Nephilim to decide saving the world is your responsibility," he said. "But what are you doing in the Market?"

you doing in the Market?" James hesitated only a moment before taking the pithos out of his coat pocket and handing it to Magnus. He explained as quickly as he could the situation: Thomas mistaking it for a stele, James taking the object before the Inquisitor arrived, their suspicion that it might have something to do with the murders, Christopher giving it its name. 

"I am not sure your friend Thomas was as mistaken as he thought," said Magnus. He pressed down on a particular rune with a well-manicured finger. With a faint click, the box elongated and rearranged itself into a new, familiar shape. 

Dahlia stared.

"It is a stele," Christopher said in amazement, leaning in close to stare.

"It is certainly modeled on one," said Magnus. "And I would say this was Shadowhunter work, but ... all magic has a kind of alliance. The tools of the Nephilim are angelic. Adamas itself has a seraphic alliance, while objects from the realms of demons are demonic in their very nature. This"—he nodded at the object in his hand—"is demonic. And the runes bear a resemblance to the runes of the Gray Book, but they have been altered. Changed. Rendered in a demonic script. A demonic demotic, if you will." He wiggled his eyebrows. "All right, no one got that joke. Over your heads, I suppose. The point is, this is a demonic artifact."

"Might I examine it again?" Christopher asked. 

Magnus handed it over, his eyes betraying a flicker of concern. "Just be careful. It's certainly not a toy." 

"An Iron Sister couldn't have made it?" asked Matthew. "Gone a bit barmy on the crumpet in the Adamant Citadel and started up production of evil objects?"

"Certainly not," said Dahlia. "The Iron Sisters take their job very seriously, and even if they didn't, you can't make demonic objects in the Adamant Citadel. The wards won't let you. I used to want to be an Iron Sister," she added, as everyone looked at her in surprise, "until I found out how cold it gets in Iceland." 

 "Could someone else have taken a stele and reversed its alliance?" James asked. "Made it demonic?"

"No," said Magnus. "It was never a real stele. It was made the way you see it now, I'm sure of it. Very unlikely to have been Lilian Highsmith's. I would agree—that object belongs to whoever has been committing these murders."

"Could a demon shape adamas?" said James. "We believe a demon is connected to these murders somehow. Not perhaps that he is committing the murders, but that his—will—is somehow involved."

"No idea which demon?" Magnus asked casually, selecting a biscuit from the platter. 

James exchanged a quick look with the rest of the group. Matthew shrugged and nodded, speaking for them all: it was James's secret to tell.

 "Belial," James said. "Somehow, he seems to have regained enough strength, even after his wound, to return to me in dreams. I have been having ... visions, it seems, of the murders. I see them happen. I almost feel as if I'm the one—the one doing the killing."

"You feel as if you're the one ... ?" Magnus narrowed his cat's eyes. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"James is definitely not committing the murders," Cordelia said hotly. "Do you think we'd be foolish enough not to think of that? We tested him—he's innocent."

"They tied me to a bed," James said, examining a piece of Turkish delight. 

Dahlia resisted the urge to smack him with a spoon.

"Charming." Magnus waved a hand in mock alarm. "There's no need to tell me anything else about that part."

 "It has to be my connection to Belial that's causing these visions," James said. "There's just no other reason I'd have them. They're like the ones I've had in the past, when I was in his realm. My grandfather must be involved somehow." 

"Have you seen his world again?" Magnus asked quietly. "His realm?"

"Not quite." James hesitated. "I fell into shadow once—the night before my wedding—but the realm didn't resemble the one Cordelia and I destroyed." He glanced at Cordelia. "It was no place I'd seen before. There was a huge, empty heath, and beyond that—ruins—the remains of towers and canals. There was a dark fortress with a gate—" 

Magnus sat forward, his eyes alight. "Edom. The realm you saw is Edom."

"Edom?" Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. "The name is familiar. Probably a class I largely slept through."

Dahlia sighed, slapping his shoulder. He looked at her sheepishly.

"'The wild beasts of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the demons shall cry to each other; Lilith also shall come there, and find for herself a place of rest,'" said Cordelia. "It's a demon world, ruled by Lilith."

 "That's right," said Magnus. "I have heard rumors that she was cast out of it, that it had been taken over—but not by whom. It seems it may have been Belial."

Dahlia's eyes narrowed slightly.

"So Belial has a new realm," said Christopher. "Could that be making him stronger? Could he be able to walk in our world?"

"Unlike his brethren, Belial cannot walk upon Earth, no matter what realm he controls. It is the curse he is always trying to circumvent."

"What if he's possessing mundanes, or Downworlders?" said Matthew. "Using them as tools?"

"A demon as powerful as Belial cannot possess a human body—not even the body of a vampire, or one of the fey. It would be like putting a bonfire in a shoebox. Such power as he possesses would literally tear the body apart." 

"But couldn't he just possess someone long enough to commit a murderbefore the body falls apart?" Lucie asked.

"Then we'd be finding two bodies," Dahlia pointed out. "The murdervictim and the body Belial had possessed." 

"Though remember what Lilian Highsmith said when she was dying,"Christopher said. "Thomas told us. He asked her who attacked her and shesaid someone who was dead in his prime, and that his wife was crying—"

"Corpse possession? Those would fall apart even faster than live bodies,"Magnus said. "It doesn't make sense."

Christopher looked glum. "Thomas did say she might have beendelirious."

"Perhaps," said James thoughtfully. "Elias, too, seemed to recognize hiskiller, and I don't think he was raving. He seemed sane enough, whichsupports the idea that it's a Shadowhunter."

"A Shadowhunter who has summoned up a demon to help him? Belial,perhaps?" suggested Lucie. 

"No one summons a Prince of Hell and controls him." Magnus shrugged.

"The point is—there are a million possible theories. And every night anddawn bring with them the possibility of another death." He scrubbed hishands over his face. "Perhaps it is time for you to use your power, James,"he said. "Not just to fear and avoid it." 

James's face went blank. "He has used it," Cordelia said. "It is noteasy to control—though I should not speak for him. James?" 

"I suppose it depends what you mean," James said. "Use it how?"

Magnus rose from his chair and went to a gilded cart on which an arrayof bottles and decanters was arranged, and selected a bottle of deep goldspirits. "Would anyone care to join me in a bit of port?"

Matthew drew his empty flask from his pocket and held it out. Thebandage on his hand seemed to glow whitely in the lamplight. "If youwouldn't mind, I could use a top-up."

Dahlia sunk deeper into the cushions, curling her hands a bit.

Magnus gave him a look that said expensive port didn't belong in pocket flasks, but he complied. He poured himself a measure and sat down again, the glass of rose-gold liquid balanced between the fingers of his left hand. "You know the ways of shadows, James. Did Belial show you his new realm of Edom, or did you somehow force your way into it? Do you remember?"

"Not consciously," said James. "I was—upset at the time."

"If you are suggesting he enter the shadow realm of his own will, the last time he did that, he nearly destroyed the Institute ballroom," said Matthew.

"And I almost shot him with an arrow," said Christopher sorrowfully

"Surely you could refrain from doing that again, er, which one are you? Cecily's son? Try not to shoot arrows at James," said Magnus. "Look, when he went into the shadow realm from the ballroom, did he disappear, or was his body still present in this world?" 

"I can answer that," said James. "It was the former. I disappeared."

 "But earlier, when you envisioned Edom," said Magnus. "Did you actually travel there?" 

"No," Dahlia said. "He remained in the room with us. Quite present."

 "I have spoken about this with Jem," said Magnus. "Most of your travels, so to speak, James, have taken place within a dream-realm. Only when you have physically removed yourself to a dimension controlled by Belial has Belial been in a position to hurt you. He is spying on you, in his nasty little way—I say spy on him right back. In dreams." 

"Dream-magic," said Christopher, pleased. "I told you those oneiromancy books would be helpful."

Dahlia smiled at him.

"You saw Edom once in a dream," said Magnus. "You can see it again."

"But what is the importance of seeing Edom?" said Cordelia. "What will it tell us?"

"Whether Belial is indeed there," said Magnus. "Even what his plans are. Is he building an army? Hiding and licking his wounds? What demons follow him? What are his vulnerabilities? Think of it as spying on the camp of the enemy." 

James shook his head. "I have never done anything like that before, in practice with Jem or by accident," he said. "I am not sure I would quite know how."

"Fortunately, I am an expert at dream-magic," said Magnus. "I will accompany you—I would do it myself, but I do not have your power. I can pass through with you, but I cannot open the door." 

Dahlia was dubious, Magnus didn't seem like the type to be an expert on dream magic. Then again, she did not know Magnus Bane that well.

"If James is going to do this, I would like to remain in the room with him, with Cortana drawn," Dahlia said. "In case we catch Belial's attention somehow, or the attention of some other unpleasant individual." 

"Oh, indeed," said Magnus. "One cannot be too careful, and Belial fears Cortana as he fears little else." He swirled his port, watching it coat the sides of the glass. "The great powers, the archangels and the Princes of Hell, are playing their own game of chess. They have their own alliance sand enmities. Azazel and Asmodeus have worked together, as have Belial and Leviathan, while Belphegor hates his brethren. But all that could change should a new power emerge." He shrugged. "Mortals cannot see the greater movements of the game, the strategy or goals. But that does not mean one need be a pawn on the board."

"Shah mat," said Cordelia. 

Magnus dropped a wink in her direction. "That is correct," he said, rising to his feet. "Alas, I must leave you, or at least, encourage you to leave me. I must be here when Hypatia returns, and you lot must be absent. She won't like it that I let you into the caravan." He smiled. "It's always better to respect a lady's personal space. James, Cordelia, I'll meet you at Curzon Street at midnight. Now off you all go—no more shopping, dallying, or skulking about. The Shadow Market's a dangerous place, especially after moonrise."

They left, Dahlia glanced back at Magnus once before they left, his eyes were flashing red.

Dahlia bit her lip and hurried after the others.

♕