♕

The Portal deposited them just inside the front gates of the Institute. 

The courtyard had been rucked up like a rug. Stones lay in great uneven piles, scattering the ground from the iron gates to the front steps. Water ran in rivulets through the cracks in the remaining flagstone, smelling of brine and ocean. A massive hole in the center of the courtyard seemed punched there by a giant.

Dahlia felt drained and exhausted, and worried for Cordelia-for everyone. Since finding out she was Lilith's paladin, Daisy hadn't smiled once; she seemed locked away in her own private unhappiness, the way James often did. Matthew kept glancing at Cordelia covertly, his own expression troubled.

They had battled both Belial and Lilith and survived, Dahlia thought, yet it felt very little like a victory.

"I would prefer not to walk into the Institute carrying the body of a Shadowhunter," said Malcolm. "I fear it might create the wrong impression."

"I'll bring you to the Sanctuary," Lucie said. "We can lay out Jesse's body there." 

James kissed her forehead. "Don't take too long. I expect once Mam and Dad realize we haven't all been tucked safely up at Curzon Street, they'll be desperate to see you."

They were nearly to the front doors when they opened, and Thomas, Christopher, and Anna poured out, followed by Charlotte and Gideon.

There was a confused babble of voices, of hugs and relief. James exclaimed at Thomas being out of prison; Thomas explained that he'd been tested by the Mortal Sword and found innocent. 

Dahlia had squeezed Christopher with a hug, as he had fretted over her. 

"Though," said Christopher, "Bridgestock was still complaining about it when the demon attacked. I doubt he'd get much support for tossing Tom back in prison now, though, after he distinguished himself in battle. He defeated a whole tentacle all by himself!" 

"Indeed," said Thomas. He grinned at Dahlia. "A whole tentacle."

Charlotte had raced over to Matthew and Charles; she kissed Matthew fiercely on the cheek and exclaimed worriedly over Charles until Gideon came to take over from Dahlia and help Matthew bring his brother to the infirmary. They departed, Charlotte darting off to fetch Henry to Charles's bedside. 

"Henry was quite impressive with his staff," said Anna. "The chains rather put my whip to shame."

Thomas had taken Cordelia aside; Dahlia heard him say something about the battle, and the name Alastair, and she saw Cordelia brighten. So Alastair was all right, Ariadne, too, was fine, according to Anna and Christopher. There had been no deaths, and the most seriously injured were in the infirmary, being tended to by the Brothers.

Dahlia felt a weight lift off her chest.

Ariadne appeared at the top of the steps. Usually neat and put-together, she wore torn gear, a bandage around one arm. Her cheek was scratched, her hair tangled. Her eyes were alight. "Dahlia is everything—?" She brightened at the sight of Cordelia and James. "Oh, lovely," she said. "Mr. and Mrs. Herondale were just saying they were going to send to Curzon Street for you." 

Dahlia tore away from Christopher and hugged her sister fiercely.

"Oh my angel, I was so worried." Dahlia muttered. Ariadne smiled wearily. "I should be the one worried, you look utterly torn up."

"Look who's talking" Dahlia countered.

James and Cordelia exchanged a look. "And where are my parents, exactly?" said James. "It's best I talk to them as soon as possible."

Ariadne led them all to the library. Thomas, Christopher, and Anna were describing the attack—Gabriel had nearly been badly hurt, but a group effort had freed him from Leviathan's barbed tentacles—and Cordelia was still walking along in silence. 

"You'll be glad to know Uncle Jem and Magnus are back," Anna said, glancing at James sideways as they reached the library door. "Apparently an Institute being attacked by a Prince of Hell is surprising enough news even to reach the Spiral Labyrinth. What happened to you lot, by the way? You were meant to be snug at home, but you look as if you've been through a war." 

"Would you believe it if I said parlor games gone terribly wrong?" said James.

 Anna smiled; there was a quizzical turn to her mouth. "You seem different," she said, but there was no time for her to expound: they had come into the library and it was absolutely packed full of Shadowhunters. Will was there, sitting at the head of a long table. Tessa standing beside him. Many of the assembled Nephilim, like Catherine Townsend and Piers Wentworth, wore the marks of recent battle: bandages, torn clothes, and blood. Some, like the Bridgestocks and Pouncebys, were gathered into clusters, muttering and gesticulating. Others sat at the table with Will and Tessa. Sophie was there—Cecily and Alexander were likely in the infirmary with Gabriel—as was Alastair, who looked up as they came in. Seeing Cordelia, he got to his feet. 

"James!" Will was beaming.

James went to embrace his father, and hugged his mother.

 When Tessa drew back, she eyed James with concern. "By the Angel, what's happened to you—and to Daisy?" she said, taking in their bedraggled appearances. "How did you know to come?" 

"Didn't you send Malcolm to fetch us?" James said.

 "No," said Will, his brow furrowed.  "I must have misunderstood what he said," said James quickly. "Nevermind—" 

"Where's your sister?" said Will. "And the High Warlock, too, for that matter?" 

"They're in the Sanctuary," said James. "And Matthew's in the infirmary with Charles and his parents."

Sophie, who had been in the middle of unbuckling her leather gauntlets, looked up. "What's happened to Charles?"

Will sat down on the table, his booted feet braced on the nearby chair. "I am getting the feeling," he said, "that there is a story here. Perhaps the other half of the story we already know. Would you say that's correct, James?" 

James hesitated. "If we could speak in private—" 

"Certainly not." The voice was the Inquisitor's. "If you think there is any chance of more of this business being kept from the Enclave—"

"No one's been keeping anything from the Enclave," said Will. His eyes were heavy-lidded, which meant he was quite angry. "Least of all my son."

 "We have been attacked," said Bridgestock, his voice rising. He looked as if he hadn't been in the battle at all—his robes were spotless—but his voice throbbed with rage, nonetheless. "By a creature of the Pit. Sent by Hell itself to wipe us off the face of the Earth. Someone has called the sea demon forth. 'Let them curse it that curse the day, who are ready to raise up Leviathan—'" 

"And who are you suggesting has called up Leviathan?" said Tessa, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am saying we have been lazy; we have allowed corruption among ourselves," said Bridgestock. 

His small eyes glittered. "We have allowed among ourselves the descendants of demons."

Dahlia had never wanted to murder her foster father more than at this moment. She glared daggers into him as James let the Mask fall into place.

"That's enough," he said. "You want to know what happened? Who's been killing Shadowhunters? Who tried to raise Leviathan? I was going to wait for the Consul, but if you insist, I'll tell you now. As long as you don't insult my mother or my family again."

Bridgestock looked furious. The crowd was looking at James expectantly, even the Pouncebys. Curiosity always won out, Dahlia thought, watching all those realizations flicker across Bridgestock's face, turning his angry expression to a sardonic scowl. "Very well, then," he said, with a dismissive gesture in James's direction. "I'm sure the assembly would like to hear what you have to say." 

James talked—and, rather surprisingly, told a cohesive story that nevertheless left out several of the most important details. He explained that he had been concerned about Thomas's arrest, knowing they had the wrong suspect. (Bridgestock coughed and shifted from foot to foot.) He went through his own discovery of the pattern of the murders on a London map, the way they had formed Leviathan's sigil. He claimed he had woken Cordelia, then Matthew and Lucie, who had been guests at their house. Together, they had raced to Mount Street Gardens and found Charles under attack. The attacker, James explained, was Jesse Blackthorn. Jesse's body, it seemed, had been magically preserved by his mother all this time, presumably through the use of the dark arts—after all, they already knew she had attempted necromancy. It was why she had been imprisoned in the Citadel. 

"So she succeeded?" Sophie demanded, looking quite ill. "She raised her son from the dead?"

Not quite, James explained: Jesse's body had been preserved as some kind of memorial. Tatiana had enlisted the help of a demon to assist her in doing so, and that demon had taken over Jesse's body, and had clearly been trying to raise Leviathan, Prince of Hell, to destroy the London Nephilim. Cordelia had stabbed Jesse with Cortana, he added, driving out the demon, which must have closed the gateway allowing Leviathan entry.

"Who would want to raise Leviathan?" Christopher wondered aloud. "Surely any of the other Princes of Hell would be less ... disgusting." 

"He might be considered quite handsome by other sea demons," said Anna. "We can't know."

"Be quiet," said Bridgestock. He was red in the face. "You're telling us the killer is some—some long-dead boy? Doesn't that seem ridiculous—and convenient?"

"Only if you're more interested in finding someone to punish than finding the murderer," said Dahlia, her voice edged with fury. "Even if you're not inclined to believe James, Jesse's body is being examined by the Silent Brothers. Once they're done, maybe you'd like to explain to the Enclave how a boy who would be twenty-four today if he'd lived has been perfectly preserved at the age of seventeen, exactly when he's known to have died?" 

There is more than that, said the familiar, silent voice of Jem, who had just come into the library with Lucie. His parchment-colored robes were spotted with blood at the sleeves, his hood drawn back to show his face—his scarred cheeks, his dark hair streaked with white. You would have to explain how it is that Jesse Blackthorn is covered in exactly the runes that are missing from the bodies of the murdered. Filomena di Angelo's Strength rune. Elias Carstairs's Voyance rune. Lilian Highsmith's Precision rune. Every one is a match. 

A murmur ran around the room as Will smiled at Jem. It was a smile Dahlia knew well: the very specific smile Will had only for his parabatai. I fit was odd to see someone smile at a Silent Brother like that, the oddness had long since faded for Dahlia. 

When Jem crossed the room to speak quietly to Will, Lucie stayed where she was; she smiled at her parents but did not run to embrace them. She seemed to be learning restraint, Dahlia thought; she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Lucie's exuberance had always been so much a part of her.

"Lilian Highsmith knew her killer," said Bridgestock, raising his voice to be heard over the buzzing gossip in the room. "She recognized him. The Lightwood boy swore to it under the Sword. How would she have known Tatiana's brat?"

"She didn't," said Lucie. "She thought he was his father, Rupert. They looked exactly alike, and Lilian knew the Blackthorns—she would have recognized Rupert." She looked at James across the room.

"That's why Miss Highsmith said what she did," said Thomas. "'He was dead, dead in his prime. His wife, she wept and wept. I remember her tears. 'Rupert was married when he died. She meant Tatiana."

"Tragedy begets tragedy," said Tessa. "Rupert Blackthorn died, and his son died, and it drove Tatiana Blackthorn mad. She refused to allow her son the protection spells of a Shadowhunter, and so created a vessel that could be possessed. She is a tragic figure, but also dangerous."

"Hopefully she is not a danger to the Sisters in the Adamant Citadel," said Alastair smoothly. "The Inquisitor was quite merciful to send her there, and not to the Silent City. Hopefully that mercy will be rewarded."

Martin Wentworth made a rude noise. "She doesn't need mercy," he said. "She needs interrogating. Do we really think she had no knowledge of this situation?" 

The Inquisitor was spluttering silently. Mrs. Bridgestock, who had been standing quietly among the Pouncebys, said, "What about Grace? If this ...murderous demon knows she exists—if it preyed on her brother—"

"Grace was born a Cartwright," Ariadne said, Dahlia smiled encouragingly at her. "Her parents were devoted Shadowhunters. She would have had the protection spells, years before Tatiana even met her." 

The Inquisitor swept his cloak around himself. "I will leave tonight. I must go to the Adamant Citadel and request a formal audience with Tatiana Blackthorn. She will have to be brought out of the Citadel by the other Sisters, for no man can enter the place. But Wentworth is right—it is time to interrogate her."

As if he had called an end to civility, a hubbub of voices erupted—questions and demands:

 But which demon was it, possessing the boy? 

What if it returns? Well, so what if it does? Without a body, it's just a disembodied demon, isn't it? 

How'd it get the runes off the bodies? James, do you know? 

What demon has the power to call up a Prince of Hell? How would they expect to control him? 

Demons don't think that far ahead—do they?

Will, who'd been sitting with his boots on a chair, kicked it over. It hit the ground with a crash that, to Dahlia's surprise, brought an immediate silence. 

"Enough," Will said firmly. "As many of you know, the Consul is currently in the infirmary with her injured son. She has sent word, however, with Brother Zachariah." He inclined his head to Jem. "She's invested me with the power to open a formal inquiry into this matter, which I will be doing. Tomorrow. For now, everyone who is not injured or the family of someone injured, please return home. There is no indication of further danger, and a great deal of work must now be undertaken. The Clave in Idris must be notified, and repair work begun. For this is our Institute, and we will let no Prince of Hell turn it to ruins." 

There was a modest cheer. Shadowhunters began to file out of the library.

Dahlia knew that despite James's well fabricated tale, William Herondale was clever. Too clever perhaps. But he knew when to wait and let the truth come to him, Dahlia had no doubt that it would.

♕

In the end, it was decided they would all return to the house on CurzonStreet—the Merry Thieves, Anna, Dahlia, and Cordelia—though Cordelia was tostop briefly at Cornwall Gardens first.

Matthew and Dahlia were given a permit to be off for a few moments at their own house since it as only across the street.

The moment they had entered the house Matthew had dragged Dahlia upstairs and fretted over her endlessly. After he had made sure she was okay, he had kissed her and they had fallen back in the bed, and that was about all the details you were going to get.

Then they had rushed to James and Cordelia's house, all rustled up and gotten a suggestive eyebrow raise from Anna and they had settled down on the couch.

"Excellent lying, James," said Matthew, raising a glass of port. "Really topnotch."

James mimed raising a glass in return.

"So," Matthew said, holding up the glass in his hand so it caught thelight, "are we going to discuss what actually happened this morning?"

"Indeed," said Thomas. He had an odd air about him, James thought,quiet and inward-seeming, as if something was bothering him. He kepttouching the inside of his left forearm, as if his compass rose tattoo ached—though as far as James knew, that was unlikely. "How much of what youtold the Enclave was true, James?"

James sank back in his chair. . "What I told them was true—but I left a great deal out."

"May we assume," said Anna, "that the demon possessing JesseBlackthorn was Belial?"

James nodded. "Belial wasn't possessing me, but he was the architectbehind the killings. Behind all of it." 

"So the dreams you were having—you were seeing through Belial's eyes,while he was in Jesse Blackthorn's body?" asked Christopher. 

"I don't believe Belial was even aware that I was seeing through his eyes.I'm not sure why I was, to be honest. Perhaps it had something to do withJesse, rather than Belial—but I can't guess." James had picked up an emptyteacup; he turned it over in his hands. "The person who knows the mostabout Jesse is Lucie, and we may not have all of that story until we speak toher, too. But it appears she has been acquainted with him—or his ghost—for some time." 

Anna, picking the currants off a London bun, frowned. "Lucie waslooking into the circumstances of his death—"

"She was?" Matthew said. "We know she saw his ghost—interacted withhim—but why would she do that?"

"I think," Anna said, in a measured voice, "that she was trying to helpGrace. It seems they know each other rather well."

"They do?" The surprise in Cordelia's eyes was clear. She glanced awayquickly, though. "Never mind, Anna. It's not important."

"I went with her to question Hypatia Vex," Dahlia said. "She told us thatTatiana had refused to have the protection spells placed on Jesse and hadhired our old friend Emmanuel Gast to do it instead." 

"Belial had his hooks in Emmanuel Gast," said James. "He forced thewarlock to place a piece of his essence inside Jesse, so that as Jesse grewolder, Belial would have an anchor in him, and a body Belial could possesson this Earth."

"But why now?" said Christopher. "Why possess Jesse now?"

"Because I refused him," said James wearily. "Because his attempt topossess me went disastrously wrong. Not only did he not possess me; hewas wounded by Cortana. He has remained in fear of it." 

"Belial wanted to make a warrior," said Cordelia. "He believed that if hemurdered Shadowhunters, took their runes and gave them to Jesse, he couldcreate a warrior capable of defeating Cortana—half Prince of Hell, halfShadowhunter."

Anna smiled at her. "But it sounds as if you fought and defeated thisbeing. Belial, as it turns out, was no match for our Cordelia." 

Cordelia's voice was low, and ragged around the edges. "Anna, no.That's—that's not what happened."

Anna did not look surprised. She set her teacup down, her blue eyes fixedon Cordelia. "Daisy," she said. "Tell us."

As Cordelia spoke,  Matthew rose and went to the window. He stood there,hands in his pockets, his shoulders stiff, as Cordelia finished explaining thatLilith had sent the demons in Nelson Square. "She wanted me tounderstand," she said, "what it meant to have that power. To be able towield Cortana as a paladin." 

"I should never have taken you to the barrow," said Matthew. He facedthe window, unmoving. 

Dahlia went to him and laid her hands gently on his shoulder. "Matthew, jaan, you couldn't have known."

Thomas rubbed at his arm, where the compass rose tattoo showedthrough the white of his sleeve. "So all this time, Lilith has been takingdifferent forms to manipulate and trick you—trick us. When you sawMagnus at the Shadow Market, that wasn't the real Magnus, was it?"

Christopher looked stunned. "But why—?" 

"It was never the real Magnus," said James. "I should have guessed whenhe came to our home here. His magic was the wrong color."

 Christopher's brow was furrowed. "But Magnus was rather helpful," hesaid. "He helped us solve the question of the pithos." He tapped his breastpocket, where the adamas object now rested. "Why would Lilith do that?" 

"She hadto earn our trust and make us believe she was Magnus. And remember, sheis Belial's enemy. They hate each other. She would not mind helping usdefeat him. What she really wanted was to have me take her back to Edom,and it almost worked." Dahlia said, her eyes not leaving the back of Matthew's head.

"I must tell Magnus about this," said Anna. "He can be sworn to secrecy,but he must know. Who knows what else Lilith may have done, whilepretending to be him?" 

There was a murmur of agreement. Thomas, his eyebrows knit togetherin thought, said, "So if Cordelia is Lilith's paladin, how were you able toget rid of her?" 

James smiled. "Your revolver, Christopher." 

"You shot Lilith?" said Christopher in disbelief.

"Doesn't seem right, shooting a demon," said Anna. "Unsportsmanlike.Though, of course, I am glad you did it."

"I don't understand," said Christopher. "There's no way Lilith could beharmed by ordinary runed weapons. And as unusual as it may be, therevolver is nothing more than a runed weapon." 

"But it worked," protested Dahlia. 

"It's a miracle it worked. It shouldn't have worked," Christopher said. Heturned back to James. "But you knew it would, didn't you?"

"I strongly suspected," James said. "You told me yourself you performedall sorts of enchantments on it, trying to make it work. I remembered yousaid you had done a sort of modified Nephilim protection spell. And then Ithought about the protection spells."

"Yes," said Christopher, "but—oh!" His face lit up with understanding.

 Thomas smiled a bit. "All right, all right, explain it, one of you. I can seeyou want to." 

"The protection spell," Christopher said. "It's done in the names of threeangels."

"Sanvi, Sansanvi, Semangelaf," said James. "They are angels ofprotection. In the old texts, they are angels meant to protect against Lilithspecifically."

"So Christopher managed to make a Lilith-killing weapon?" said Anna."Most amazing."

"It didn't kill her," said Cordelia. "She was weakened, I think, and fledbecause she was startled and injured. But she is no more dead and gone thanBelial is." She looked around miserably at the group. "I will understand ifyou must distance yourselves from me. I am still Lilith's paladin." 

"James is Belial's grandson," said Anna, "and none of us have abandonedhim. That is not the spirit of the Merry Thieves."

"That's different," Cordelia said, her voice a bit desperate. "Lilith isbound to me as a Shadowhunter. She could appear at any time, as hasalways been true, but whenever I draw a weapon, it will summon her. If Iwield Cortana, then so does she, through me. If you think that it would bebest to throw myself on the mercy of the Clave—"

"Obviously not," said Matthew, spinning away from the window. "Wewill tell no one." 

Dahlia stepped back from him a bit, and turned to sit down near Christopher once more.

Anna sat back in her chair. "You don't think your mother would bemerciful?"

"My mother would, Will and Tessa would," Matthew said, nodding atJames. "But plenty would not. Plenty would panic, and Cordelia would bein the Silent City before we could do anything." 

"Maybe I should be," said Cordelia. 

"Absolutely not," said James. "It's your choice, Daisy, what you want todo. If you want us to tell anyone. But I agree with Matthew. You've donenothing wrong—you're no danger as long as you don't pick up a weapon—and the Mother of Demons has reason to fear us." He put his hand to hisbelt, where the revolver rested. "We've defeated worse than Lilith." 

"She's not even a Prince of Hell, and we've defeated two of those today,"Thomas pointed out.

Cordelia clamped her lips together tightly, as if she were struggling not tocry. Christopher looked terribly alarmed. "Oh, what ho, tears," he saidhelplessly. "Ghastly—not that you shouldn't cry if you wish, of course. Crylike the blazes, Cordelia."

"Christopher," said James darkly. "You are not helping."

Cordelia shook her head. "It's not Christopher. Or—I suppose it is, butit's not Christopher making me sad. It's only ... I had not realized—youreally think of me as your friend, all of you?"

"Oh, darling," said Dahlia affectionately. "Of course we do." 

"Wewill manage this together, Daisy. We will never leave you alone." James said.

 ♕