City of Lost Souls

Alec leaned closer to her, and she felt the brush of his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be fine, Iz.”

She raised her chin. “I know,” she said, and followed Jocelyn through the door.

Clary sucked in her breath, but before she could reply, there was a step on the stairs, and Jace appeared at the end of the hallway. Sebastian immediately let her go and spun her around. With a smile like a wolf’s, he ruffled her hair. “Good to see you, little sister.”

Clary was speechless. Jace, though, wasn’t; he moved toward them soundlessly. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a white T-shirt and jeans, and was barefoot. “Were you hugging Clary?” He looked at Sebastian in amazement.

Sebastian shrugged. “She’s my sister. I’m pleased to see her.”

“You don’t hug people,” Jace said.

“I ran out of time to bake a casserole.”

“It was nothing,” Clary said, waving a dismissive hand at her brother. “I tripped. He was just keeping me from falling over.”

If Sebastian was surprised to hear her defend him, he didn’t show it. He was expressionless as she moved across the corridor, toward Jace, who kissed her on the cheek, his fingers cool against her skin. “What were you doing up here?” Jace asked.

“Looking for you.” She shrugged. “I woke up and couldn’t find you. I thought maybe you were asleep.”

“I see you discovered the clothes stash.” Sebastian indicated her shirt with a gesture. “Do you like them?”

Jace shot him a look. “We were out getting food,” he said to Clary. “Nothing fancy. Bread and cheese. You want lunch?”

Which was how, several minutes later, Clary found herself installed at the big glass and steel table. From the comestibles spread out over the table, she figured that her second guess had been right. They were in Venice. There was bread, Italian cheeses, salami and prosciutto, grapes and fig jam, and bottles of Italian wine. Jace sat across from her, Sebastian at the head of the table. She was eerily reminded of the night she had met Valentine, at Renwick’s in New York, how he had put himself between Jace and Clary at the head of a table, how he had offered them wine and told them they were brother and sister.

She sneaked a glance at her real brother now. She thought of how her mother had looked when she’d seen him. Valentine. But Sebastian wasn’t a carbon copy of their father. She had seen pictures of Valentine when he was their age. Sebastian’s face tempered her father’s hard features with her mother’s prettiness; he was tall but less broad-shouldered, more lithe and catlike. He had Jocelyn’s cheekbones and fine soft mouth, Valentine’s dark eyes and white-blond hair.

He looked up then, as if he had caught her staring at him. “Wine?” He offered the bottle.

She nodded, though she had never much liked the taste of wine, and since Renwick’s she had hated it. She cleared her throat as Sebastian filled the glass. “So,” she said. “This place — is it yours?”

“It was our father’s,” said Sebastian, setting the bottle down. “Valentine’s. It moves, in and out of worlds — ours and others. He used to use it as a retreat as well as a mode of travel. He brought me here a few times, showed me how to get in and out and how to make it travel.”

“There’s no front door.”

“There is if you know how to find it,” said Sebastian. “Dad was very clever about this place.”

Clary looked at Jace, who shook his head. “He never showed it to me. I wouldn’t have guessed it existed either.”

“It’s very… bachelor pad,” Clary said. “I wouldn’t have thought of Valentine as…”

“Owning a flat-screen TV?” Jace grinned at her. “Not that it gets channels, but you can watch DVDs on it. Back at the manor we had an old icebox powered by witchlight. Here he’s got a Sub-Zero fridge.”

“That was for Jocelyn,” said Sebastian.

Clary looked up. “What?”

“All the modern stuff. The appliances. And the clothes. Like that shirt you’re wearing. They were for our mother. In case she decided to come back.” Sebastian’s dark eyes met hers. She felt a little sick. This is my brother, and we’re talking about our parents. She felt dizzy — too much happening too fast to take in, to process. She had never had time to think about Sebastian as her living, breathing brother. By the time she’d found out who he really was, he’d been dead.

“Sorry if it’s weird,” Jace said apologetically, indicating her shirt. “We can buy you some other clothes.”

Clary touched the sleeve lightly. The fabric was silky, fine, expensive. Well, that explained that — everything close to her size, everything in colors that suited her. Because she looked just like her mother.

She took a deep breath. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s just — What do you do exactly? Just travel around inside this apartment and…”

“See the world?” Jace said lightly. “There’s worse things.”

“But you can’t do that forever.”

Sebastian hadn’t eaten much, but he’d drunk two glasses of wine. He was on his third, and his eyes were glittering. “Why not?”

“Well, because — because the Clave is looking for both of you, and you can’t spend forever running and hiding…” Clary’s voice trailed off as she looked from one of them to the other. They were sharing a look — the look of two people who knew something, together, that no one else did. It was not a look Jace had shared with someone else in front of her in a very long time.

Sebastian spoke softly and slowly. “Are you asking a question or making an observation?”

“She has a right to know our plans,” Jace said. “She came here knowing she couldn’t go back.”

“A leap of faith,” said Sebastian, running his finger around the rim of his glass. It was something Clary had seen Valentine do. “In you. She loves you. That’s why she’s here. Isn’t it?”

“So what if it is?” Clary said. She supposed she could pretend there was another reason, but Sebastian’s eyes were dark and sharp, and she doubted he’d believe her. “I trust Jace.”

“But not me,” Sebastian said.

Clary chose her next words with extreme care. “If Jace trusts you, then I want to trust you,” she said. “And you’re my brother. That counts for something.” The lie tasted bitter in her mouth. “But I don’t really know you.”

“Then, maybe you should spend a little time getting to know me,” Sebastian said. “And then we’ll tell you our plans.”

We’ll tell you. Our plans. In his mind there was a him and Jace; there was no Jace and Clary.

“I don’t like keeping her in the dark,” Jace said.

“We’ll tell her in a week. What difference does a week make?”

Jace gave him a look. “Two weeks ago you were dead.”

“Well, I wasn’t suggesting two weeks,” said Sebastian. “That would be insane.”

Jace’s mouth quirked up at the corner. He looked at Clary.

“I’m willing to wait for you to trust me,” she said, knowing it was the right, smart thing to say. Hating to say it. “However long it takes.”

“A week,” Jace said.

“A week,” agreed Sebastian. “And that means she stays here in the apartment. No communication with anyone. No unlocking the door for her, no going in and out.”

Jace leaned back. “What if I’m with her?”

Sebastian gave him a long look from under lowered eyelashes. His look was calculating. He was deciding what he was going to allow Jace to do, Clary realized. He was deciding how much leash to give his “brother.” “Fine,” he said at last, his voice rich with condescension. “If you’re with her.”

Clary looked down at her wineglass. She heard Jace reply in a mumur but couldn’t look at him. The idea of a Jace who was allowed to do things — Jace, who always did whatever he wanted — made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to get up and smash the wine bottle over Sebastian’s head, but she knew it was impossible. Cut one, and the other bleeds.