City of Lost Souls

across the room — he was wearing black sweatpants and a white T-shirt with a torn collar — to put his arms around her.

For a moment she stood still in the circle of his arms, hearing his heartbeat, his hands patting half- awkwardly up and down her back, her hair. “Iz,” he said. “It’s going to be okay, Izzy.”

She pushed away from him, wiping at her eyes. God, she hated crying. “How can you say that?” she snapped. “How can anything possibly be okay after this?”

“Izzy.” Alec drew his sister’s hair over one shoulder and tugged gently at it. It reminded her of the years when she used to wear her hair in braids and Alec would yank on them, with considerably less gentleness than he was showing now. “Don’t go to pieces. We need you.” He dropped his voice. “Also, did you know you smell like tequila?”

She looked over at Magnus, who was watching them from the sofa with his unreadable cat’s eyes. “Where’s Clary?” she said. “And her mother? I thought they were here.”

“Asleep,” said Alec. “We thought they needed a rest.”

“And I don’t?”

“Did you just see your fiance or your stepfather nearly murdered in front of your eyes?” Magnus inquired dryly. He was wearing striped pajamas with a black silk dressing gown thrown over them. “Isabelle Lightwood,” he said, sitting up and loosely clasping his hands in front of him. “As Alec said, we need you.”

Isabelle straightened up, putting her shoulders back. “Need me for what?”

“To go to the Iron Sisters,” said Alec. “We need a weapon that will divide Jace and Sebastian so that they can be hurt separately — Well, you know what I mean. So Sebastian can be killed without hurting Jace. And it’s a matter of time before the Clave knows that Jace isn’t Sebastian’s prisoner, that he’s working with him—”

“It’s not Jace,” Isabelle protested.

“It may not be Jace,” said Magnus, “but if he dies, your Jace dies right along with him.”

“As you know, the Iron Sisters will speak only to women,” said Alec. “And Jocelyn can’t go alone because she isn’t a Shadowhunter anymore.”

“What about Clary?”

“She’s still in training. She won’t know the right questions to ask or the way to address them. But you and Jocelyn will. And Jocelyn says she’s been there before; she can help guide you once we Portal you to the edge of the wards around the Adamant Citadel. You’ll be going, both of you, in the morning.”

Isabelle considered it. The idea of finally having something to do, something definite and active and important, was a relief. She would have preferred a task that had something to do with killing demons or chopping off Sebastian’s legs, but this was better than nothing. The legends surrounding the Adamant Citadel made it sound like a forbidding, distant place, and the Iron Sisters were seen far more rarely than the Silent Brothers. Isabelle had never met one.

“When do we leave?” she said.

Alec smiled for the first time since she’d arrived, and reached to ruffle her hair. “That’s my Isabelle.”

“Quit it.” She ducked out from his reach and saw Magnus grinning at them from the sofa. He levered himself up and ran a hand through his already explosively spiky black hair.

“I’ve got three spare rooms,” he said. “Clary’s in one; her mother’s in the other. I’ll show you the third.”

The rooms all branched off a narrow, windowless hallway that led from the living room. Two of the doors were closed; Magnus drew Isabelle through the third, into a room whose walls were painted hot-pink. Black curtains hung from silver bars over the windows, secured by handcuffs. The bedspread had a print of dark red hearts on it.

Isabelle glanced around. She felt jittery and nervous and not in the least like going to sleep. “Nice handcuffs. I can see why you didn’t put Jocelyn in here.”

“I needed something to hold the curtains back.” Magnus shrugged. “Do you have anything to sleep in?”

Isabelle just nodded, not wanting to admit she’d brought Simon’s shirt with her from his apartment. Vampires didn’t really smell like anything, but the shirt still carried with it the faint, reassuring scent of his laundry soap. “It’s kind of weird,” she said. “You demanding I come over right away, only to put me to bed and tell me we’re getting started tomorrow.”

Magnus leaned against the wall by the door, his arms over his chest, and looked at her through slitted cat eyes. For a moment he reminded her of Church, only less likely to bite. “I love your brother,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“If you want my permission to marry him, go right ahead,” said Isabelle. “Autumn’s a nice time for it too. You could wear an orange tux.”

“He isn’t happy,” said Magnus, as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Of course he isn’t,” Isabelle snapped. “Jace—”

“Jace,” said Magnus, and his hands made fists at his sides. Isabelle stared at him. She had always thought that he didn’t mind Jace; liked him, even, once the question of Alec’s affections had been settled.

Out loud, she said, “I thought you and Jace were friends.”

“It’s not that,” said Magnus. “There are some people — people the universe seems to have singled out for special destinies. Special favors and special torments. God knows we’re all drawn toward what’s beautiful and broken; I have been, but some people cannot be fixed. Or if they can be, it’s only by love and sacrifice so great that it destroys the giver.”

Isabelle shook her head slowly. “You’ve lost me. Jace is our brother, but for Alec — He’s Jace’s parabatai, too.”

“I know about parabatai,” said Magnus. “I’ve known parabatai so close they were almost the same person. Do you know what happens, when one of them dies, to the one who’s left—”

“Stop it!” Isabelle clapped her hands over her ears, then lowered them slowly. “How dare you, Magnus Bane?” she said. “How dare you make this worse than it is.”

“Isabelle.” Magnus’s hands loosened; he looked a little wide-eyed, as if his outburst had startled even him. “I am sorry. I forget, sometimes… that with all your self-control and strength, you possess the same vulnerability that Alec does.”

“There is nothing weak about Alec,” said Isabelle.

“No,” said Magnus. “To love as you choose, that takes strength. The thing is, I wanted you here for him. There are things I can’t do for him, can’t give him.” For a moment Magnus looked oddly vulnerable himself. “You have known Jace as long as he has. You can give him understanding I can’t. And he loves you.”

“Of course he loves me. I’m his sister.”

“Blood isn’t love,” said Magnus, and his voice was bitter. “Just ask Clary.”

Clary shot through the Portal as if through the barrel of a rifle and flew out the other end. She tumbled toward the ground and struck hard on her feet, sticking the landing at first. The pose lasted only a moment before, too dizzy from the Portal to concentrate, she overbalanced and hit the ground, her backpack cushioning her fall. She sighed—someday all the training really would kick in — and got to her feet, brushing dust from the seat of her jeans.

She was standing in front of Luke’s house. The river sparkled over her shoulder, the city rising behind it like a forest of lights. Luke’s house was just as they had left it, hours ago, locked and dark. Clary, standing on the dirt and stone path that led up to the front steps, swallowed hard.

Slowly she touched the ring on her right hand with the fingers of her left. Simon?

The reply came immediately. Yeah?

Where are you?

Walking toward the subway. Did you Portal home?

Luke’s. If Jace comes like I think he will, this is where he’ll come to.

A silence. Then, Well, I guess you know how to get me if you need me.

I guess I do. Clary took a deep breath. Simon?

Yeah?