Chapter 15
Font Size:
A
A+
A++
Jace looked around desperately. His eyes came to rest
on the rosewood screen. “Get behind that,” he said,
pointing. “Now.”
ry dropped the fractured photo on the desk and
slipped behind the screen, pulling Simon after her. Jace
was right behind them, his stele in his hand. He had
barely concealed himself when ry heard the door
swing wide open, the sound of people walking into
Luke’s office—then voices. Three men speaking. She
looked nervously at Simon, who was very pale, and then
at Jace, who had raised the stele in his hand and was
moving the tip lightly, in a sort of square shape, across
the back of the screen. As ry stared, the square went
clear, like a pane of ss. She heard Simon suck in his
breath—a tiny sound, barely audible—and Jace shook
his head at them both, mouthing words: They can’t see
us through it, but we can see them.
Biting her lip, ry moved to the edge of the square
and peered through it, conscious of Simon breathing
down her neck. She could see the room beyond
perfectly: the bookshelves, the desk with the duffel bag
thrown across it—and Luke, ragged-looking and slightly
stooped, his sses pushed up to the top of his head,
standing near the door. It was frightening even though
she knew he couldn’t see her, that the window Jace had
made was like the ss in a police station interrogation
room: strictly one-way.
Luke turned, looking back through the doorway. “Yes,
feel free to look around,” he said, his tone heavily
weighted with sarcasm. “Nice of you to show such an
interest.”
A low chuckle sounded from the corner of the office.
With an impatient flick of the wrist, Jace tapped the
frame of his “window,” and it opened out wider, showing
more of the room. There were two men there with Luke,
both in long reddish robes, their hoods pushed back.
One was thin, with an elegant gray mustache and
pointed beard. When he smiled, he showed blindingly
white teeth. The other was burly, thickset as a wrestler,
with close-cropped reddish hair. His skin was dark
purple and looked shiny over the cheekbones, as if it
had been stretched too tight.
“Those are warlocks?” ry whispered softly.
Jace didn’t answer. He had gone rigid all over, stiff as a
bar of iron. He’s afraid I’ll make a run for it, try to get to
Luke, ry thought. She wished she could reassure
him that she wouldn’t. There was something about
those two men, in their thick cloaks the color of arterial
blood, that was terrifying.
“Consider this a friendly follow-up, Graymark,” said the
man with the gray mustache. His smile showed teeth so
sharp they looked as if they’d been filed to cannibal
points.
“There’s nothing friendly about you, Pangborn.” Luke sat
down on the edge of his desk, angling his body so it
blocked the men’s view of his duffel bag and its
contents. Now that he was closer, ry could see that
his face and hands were badly bruised, his fingers
scraped and bloody. A long cut along his neck
disappeared down into his cor. What on earth
happened to him?
“ckwell, don’t touch that—it’s valuable,” Luke said
sternly.
The big redheaded man, who had picked up the statue
of Kali from the top of the bookcase, ran his beefy
fingers over it consideringly. “Nice,” he said.
“Ah,” said Pangborn, taking the statue from his
companion. “She who was created to battle a demon
who could not be killed by any god or man. ‘Oh, Kali, my
mother full of bliss! Enchantress of the almighty Shiva,
in thy delirious joy thou dancest, pping thy hands
together. Thou art the Mover of all that moves, and we
are but thy helpless toys.’”
“Very nice,” said Luke. “I didn’t know you were a student
of the Indian myths.”
“All the myths are true,” said Pangborn, and ry felt a
small shiver go up her spine. “Or have you forgotten
even that?”
“I forget nothing,” said Luke. Though he looked rxed,
ry could see tension in the lines of his shoulders and
mouth. “I suppose Valentine sent you?”
“He did,” said Pangborn. “He thought you might have
changed your mind.”
“There’s nothing to change my mind about. I already told
you I don’t know anything. Nice cloaks, by the way.”
“Thanks,” said ckwell with a sly grin. “Skinned them
off a couple of dead warlocks.”
“Those are official ord robes, aren’t they?” Luke
asked. “Are they from the Uprising?”
Pangborn chuckled softly. “Spoils of battle.”
“Aren’t you afraid someone might mistake you for the
real thing?”
“Not,” said ckwell, “once they got up close.”
Pangborn fondled the edge of his robe. “Do you
remember the Uprising, Lucian?” he said softly. “That
was a great and terrible day. Do you remember how we
trained together for the battle?”
Luke’s face twisted. “The past is the past. I don’t know
what to tell you gentlemen. I can’t help you now. I don’t
know anything.”
“‘Anything’ is such a general word, so unspecific,” said
Pangborn, sounding mncholy. “Surely someone who
owns so many books must know something.”
“If you want to know where to find a jog-toed swallow in
springtime, I could direct you to the correct reference
title. But if you want to know where the Mortal Cup has
disappeared to …”
“‘Disappeared’ might not be quite the correct word,”
purred Pangborn. “Hidden, more like. Hidden by
Jocelyn.”
“That may be,” said Luke. “So hasn’t she told you where
it is yet?”
“She has not yet regained consciousness,” said
Pangborn, carving the air with a long-fingered hand.
“Valentine is disappointed. He was looking forward to
their reunion.”
“I’m sure she didn’t reciprocate the sentiment,” muttered
Luke.
Pangborn cackled. “Jealous, Graymark? Perhaps you
no longer feel about her the way you used to.”
A trembling had started in ry’s fingers, so
pronounced that she knitted her hands together tightly
to try to stop them from shaking. Jocelyn? Can they be
talking about my mother?
“I never felt any way about her, particrly,” said Luke.
“Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you
can see why we might have banded together. But I’m
not going to try to interfere with Valentine’s ns for her,
if that’s what he’s worried about.”
“I wouldn’t say he was worried,” said Pangborn. “More
curious. We all wondered if you were still alive. Still
recognizably human.”
Luke arched his eyebrows. “And?”
“You seem well enough,” said Pangborn grudgingly. He
set the Kali statuette down on the shelf. “There was a
child, wasn’t there? A girl.”
Luke looked taken aback. “What?”
“Don’t y dumb,” said ckwell in his snarl of a voice.
“We know the bitch had a daughter. They found photos
of her in the apartment, a bedroom—”
“I thought you were asking about children of mine,” Luke
interrupted smoothly. “Yes, Jocelyn had a daughter.
rissa. I assume she’s run off. Did Valentine send you
to find her?”
“Not us,” said Pangborn. “But he is looking.”
“We could search this ce,” added ckwell.
Property ? 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” said Luke, and slid off the desk.
There was a certain cold menace to his look as he
stared down at the two men, though his expression
hadn’t changed. “What makes you think she’s still alive?
I thought Valentine sent Raveners to scour the ce.
Enough Ravener poison, and most people will crumble
away to ashes, leave no trace behind.”
“There was a dead Ravener,” said Pangborn. “It made
Valentine suspicious.”
“Everything makes Valentine suspicious,” said Luke.
“Maybe Jocelyn killed it. She was certainly capable.”
ckwell grunted. “Maybe.”
Luke shrugged. “Look, I’ve got no idea where the girl is,
but for what it’s worth, I’d guess she’s dead. She’d have
turned up by now otherwise. Anyway, she’s not much of
a danger. She’s fifteen years old, she’s never heard of
Valentine, and she doesn’t believe in demons.”
Pangborn chuckled. “A fortunate child.”
“Not anymore,” said Luke.
ckwell raised his eyebrows. “You sound angry,
Lucian.”
“I’m not angry, I’m exasperated. I’m not nning on
interfering with Valentine’s ns, do you understand
that? I’m not a fool.”
“Really?” said ckwell. “It’s nice to see that you’ve
developed a healthy respect for your own skin over the
years, Lucian. You weren’t always so pragmatic.”
“You do know,” said Pangborn, his tone conversational,
“that we’d trade her, Jocelyn, for the Cup? Safely
delivered, right to your door. That’s a promise from
Valentine himself.”
“I know,” said Luke. “I’m not interested. I don’t know
where your precious Cup is, and I don’t want to get
involved in your politics. I hate Valentine,” he added,
“but I respect him. I know he’ll mow down everyone in
his path. I intend to be out of his way when it happens.
He’s a monster—a killing machine.”
“Look who’s talking,” snarled ckwell.
“I take it these are your preparations for removing
yourself from Valentine’s path?” said Pangborn, pointing
a long finger at the half-concealed duffel bag on the
desk. “Getting out of town, Lucian?”
Luke nodded slowly. “Going to the country. I n to lie
low for a while.”
“We could stop you,” said ckwell. “Make you stay.”
Luke smiled. It transformed his face. Suddenly he was
no longer the kind, schrly man who’d pushed ry
on the swings at the park and taught her how to ride a
tricycle. Suddenly there was something feral behind his
eyes, something vicious and cold. “You could try.”
Pangborn nced at ckwell, who shook his head
once, slowly. Pangborn turned back to Luke. “You’ll
notify us if you experience any sudden memory
resurgence?”
Luke was still smiling. “You’ll be first on my list to call.”
Pangborn nodded shortly. “I suppose we’ll take our
leave. The Angel guard you, Lucian.”
“The Angel does not guard those like me,” said Luke.
He picked the duffel bag up off the desk and knotted the
top. “On your way, gentlemen?”
Lifting their hoods to cover their faces again, the two
men left the room, followed a momentter by Luke. He
paused at the door, ncing around as if he wondered if
he’d forgotten something. Then he shut it carefully
behind him.
ry stayed where she was, frozen, hearing the front
door swing shut and the distant jingle of chain and keys
as Luke refastened the padlock. She kept seeing the
look on Luke’s face, over and over, as he said he wasn’t
interested in what happened to her mother.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. “ry?” It was Simon,
his voice hesitant, almost gentle. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, mutely. She felt far from okay. In
fact, she felt like she’d never be okay again.
“Of course she isn’t.” It was Jace, his voice sharp and
cold as ice shards. He took hold of the screen and
moved it aside sharply. “At least now we know who
would send a demon after your mother. Those men
think she has the Mortal Cup.”
ry felt her lips thin into a straight line. “That’s totally
ridiculous and impossible.”
“Maybe,” said Jace, leaning against Luke’s desk. He
fixed her with eyes as opaque as smoked ss. “Have
you ever seen those men before?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Never.”
“Lucian seemed to know them. To be friendly with
them.”
“I wouldn’t say friendly,” said Simon. “I’d say they were
suppressing their hostility.”
“They didn’t kill him outright,” said Jace. “They think he
knows more than he’s telling.”
“Maybe,” said ry, “or maybe they’re just reluctant to
kill another Shadowhunter.”
Jaceughed, a harsh, almost vicious noise that raised
the hairs up on ry’s arms. “I doubt that.”
She looked at him hard. “What makes you so sure? Do
you know them?”
Theughter had gone from his voice entirely when he
replied. “Do I know them?” he echoed. “You might say
that. Those are the men who murdered my father.”
9
THE CIRCLE AND THE BROTHERHOOD
CLARY STEPPED FORWARD TO TOUCH JACE’S
ARM, SAY something, anything—what did you say to
someone who’d just seen his father’s killers? Her
hesitation turned out not to matter; Jace shrugged her
touch off as if it stung. “We should go,” he said, stalking
out of the office and into the living room. ry and
Simon hurried after him. “We don’t know when Luke
mighte back.”
They left through the back entrance, Jace using his
stele to lock up behind them, and made their way out
onto the silent street. The moon hung like a locket over
the city, casting pearly reflections on the water of the
East River. The distant hum of cars going by over the
Williamsburg Bridge filled the humid air with a sound like
beating wings. Simon said, “Does anyone want to tell
me where we’re going?”
“To the L train,” said Jace calmly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Simon said, blinking.
“Demon yers take the subway?”
“It’s faster than driving.”
“I thought it’d be something cooler, like a van with
DEATH TO DEMONS painted on the outside, or …”
Jace didn’t even bother to interrupt. ry shot Jace a
sideways look. Sometimes, when Jocelyn was really
angry about something or was in one of her upset
moods, she would get what ry called “scary-calm.” It
was a calm that made ry think of the deceptive hard
sheen of ice just before it cracked under your weight.
Jace was scary-calm. His face was expressionless, but
something burned at the backs of his tawny eyes.
Source:
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
? by
Articles you may like
?
?
?
?
? Ads by