Her voice came through, tinged with alarm.
There was a long pause.
And she was gone. Simon glanced up from his hand and saw Magnus looking at him quizzically. “He’s not a cat, Sylvester,” he said. “He’s a Greater Demon. Lieutenant of Hell and Forger of Weapons. He was an angel who taught mankind how to make weapons, when before it had been knowledge only angels possessed. That caused him to fall, and now he is a demon. ‘And the whole earth has been corrupted by the works that were taught by Azazel. To him ascribe all sin.’”
Alec looked at Magnus in amazement. “How did you know all that?”
“He’s a friend of mine,” said Magnus, and, noting their expressions, sighed. “Okay, not really. But it is in the
“Seems dangerous.” Alec frowned. “It sounds like he’s beyond a Greater Demon, even. Like Lilith.”
“Fortunately, he is already bound,” said Magnus. “If you summon him, his spirit form will come to you but his corporeal self will remain bound to the jagged rocks of Duduael.”
“The jagged rocks of… Oh, whatever,” Isabelle said, winding her long dark hair into a bun. “He’s the demon of weapons. Fine. I say we give it a go.”
“I can’t believe you’re even considering this,” said Jocelyn. “I learned from watching my husband what dabbling in raising demons can do. Clary—” She broke off then, as if sensing Simon’s gaze on her, and turned. “Simon,” she said, “do you know, is Clary awake yet? We’ve been letting her sleep, but it’s almost eleven.”
Simon hesitated. “I don’t know.” This, he reasoned, was true. Wherever Clary was, she
Jocelyn looked puzzled. “But weren’t you in the room with her?”
“No, I wasn’t. I was—” Simon broke off, realizing the hole he’d just dug himself. There were three spare bedrooms. Jocelyn had been in one, Clary the other. Which would obviously mean he must have slept in the third room with—
“Isabelle?” said Alec, his eyebrows raised. “You slept in Isabelle’s room?”
Isabelle waved a hand. “No need to worry, big brother. Nothing happened. Of course,” she added as Alec’s shoulders relaxed, “I was totally passed-out drunk, so he could really have done whatever he wanted and I wouldn’t have woken up.”
“Oh, please,” said Simon. “All I did was tell you the entire plot of
“I don’t think I remember that,” said Isabelle, taking a cookie from the plate on the table.
“Oh, yeah? Who was Luke Skywalker’s best childhood friend?”
“Biggs Darklighter,” Isabelle said immediately, and then hit the table with the flat of her hand. “That is
“Ah,” said Magnus. “Nerd love. It is a beautiful thing, while also being an object of mockery and hilarity for those of us who are more sophisticated.”
“All right, that’s enough.” Jocelyn stood up. “I’m going to get Clary. If you’re going to raise a demon, I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want my daughter here either.” She headed toward the hallway.
Simon blocked her way. “You can’t do that,” he said.
Jocelyn looked at him with a set face. “I know you’re going to say that this is the safest place for us, Simon, but with a demon being raised, I just—”
“It’s not that.” Simon took a deep breath, which didn’t help, since his blood no longer processed oxygen. He felt slightly sick. “You can’t go wake her up because… because she isn’t here.”
10
THE WILD HUNT
Jordan’s old room at the Praetor House looked like any dormitory room at any college. There were two iron- framed beds, each set against a different wall. Through the window separating them green lawns were visible three floors down. Jordan’s side of the room was fairly bare — it looked as if he had taken most of his photographs and books with him to Manhattan — though there were some tacked-up pictures of beaches and the ocean, and a surfboard leaning against one wall. A little jolt went through Maia as she saw that on the bedside table was a gold- framed photo of her with Jordan, taken at Ocean City, the boardwalk and the beach behind them.
Jordan looked at the photograph and then at her, and blushed. He slung his bag onto his bed and stripped off his jacket, his back to her.
“When will your roommate be back?” she asked into the suddenly uncomfortable silence. She wasn’t sure why they were both embarrassed. They certainly hadn’t been when they’d been in the truck together, but now, here in Jordan’s space, the years they had spent not speaking seemed to press them apart.
“Who knows? Nick’s on assignment. They’re dangerous. He might not come back.” Jordan sounded resigned. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair. “Why don’t you lie down? I’m going to take a shower.” He headed for the bathroom, which, Maia was relieved to see, was attached to his room. She didn’t feel like dealing with one of those shared-bathroom-down-the-hall things.
“Jordan—,” she began, but he’d already closed the bathroom door behind him. She could hear water running. With a sigh she kicked off her shoes and lay down on the absent Nick’s bed. The blanket was dark blue plaid, and smelled like pinecones. She looked up and saw that the ceiling was wallpapered with photographs. The same laughing blond boy, who looked about seventeen, smiled down at her out of each picture. Nick, she guessed. He looked happy. Had Jordan been happy, here at the Praetor House?
She reached out and flipped the photograph of the two of them toward her. It had been taken years ago, when Jordan was skinny, with big hazel eyes that dominated his face. They had their arms around each other and looked sunburned and happy. Summer had darkened both their skins and put light streaks in Maia’s hair, and Jordan had his head turned slightly toward her, as if he were going to say something or kiss her. She couldn’t remember which. Not anymore.
She thought of the boy whose bed she was sitting on, the boy who might never come back. She thought of Luke, slowly dying, and of Alaric and Gretel and Justine and Theo and all the others of her pack who had lost their lives in the war against Valentine. She thought of Max, and of Jace, two Lightwoods lost — for, she had to admit in her heart, she didn’t think they would ever get Jace back. And lastly and strangely she thought of Daniel, the brother she had never mourned for, and to her surprise she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes.
She sat up abruptly. She felt as if the world were tilting and she was clinging on helplessly, trying to keep from tumbling into a black abyss. She could feel the shadows closing in. With Jace lost and Sebastian out there, things could only get darker. There would only be more loss and more death. She had to admit, the most alive she’d felt in weeks had been those moments at dawn, kissing Jordan in his car.
As if she were in a dream, she found herself getting to her feet. She walked across the room and opened the door to the bathroom. The shower was a square of frosted glass; she could see Jordan’s silhouette through it. She doubted he could hear her over the running water as she pulled off her sweater and shimmied out of her jeans and underwear. With a deep breath she crossed the room, slid the shower door open, and stepped inside.
Jordan spun around, pushing the wet hair out of his eyes. The shower was running hot, and his face was flushed, making his eyes shine as if the water had polished them. Or maybe it wasn’t just the water making the blood rise under his skin as his eyes took her in — all of her. She looked back at him steadily, not embarrassed, watching the way the Praetor Lupus pendant shone in the wet hollow of his throat, and the slide of the soap suds over his shoulders and chest as he stared at her, blinking water out of his eyes. He was beautiful, but then she had always thought so.
“Maia?” he said unsteadily. “Are you…?”
“Shh.” She put her finger against his lips, drawing the shower door closed with her other hand. Then she stepped closer, wrapping both arms around him, letting the water wash both of them clean of the darkness. “Don’t
