Chapter 47


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    Luke nodded, his knotted fingers the only sign of the tension he felt. “Yes.


    “Oh, my God.” ry leaped to her feet, no longer able to sit still. She paced to the bars of the cell. “That''s not possible. It''s just not


    possible.”


    “ry, please don’t get upset—”


    “Don''t get upset? You''re telling me that my dad is a guy who’s basically an evil overlord, and you want me not to get upset?


    “He wasn’t evil to begin with,” Luke said, sounding almost apologetic.


    “Oh, I beg to differ. I think he was clearly evil. All that stuff he was spouting about keeping the human race pure and the importance of


    untainted blood—he was like one of those creepy white power guys. And you two totally fell for it.”


    “I wasn''t the one talking about ‘slimy’ Downworlders just minutes ago,” Luke said quietly. “Or about how they couldn''t be trusted.”


    “That''s not the same thing!” ry could hear the tears in her voice. "I had a brother,” she went on, her voice catching. “Grandparents, too


    TheyTe dead?”


    Luke nodded, looking down at his big hands, open on his knees. “They''re dead.”


    “Jonathan.” she said softly. “He would have been older than me? A year older?”


    Luke said nothing.


    “I always wanted a brother,” she said.


    “Don''t.” he said wretchedly. “Don’t torture yourself. You can see why your mother kept all this from you, can''t you? What good would it have


    done you to know what you had lost before you were even born?


    “That box,” ry said, her mind working feverishly. “With the J. C. on it. Jonathan Christopher. That was what she was always crying over.


    that was his lock of hair—my brother''s, not my father’s.”


    “Yes.


    “And when you said ‘ry isn''t Jonathan,’ you meant my brother. My mom was so overprotective of me because she''d already had one


    child who died.


    Before Luke could reply, the cell door nged open and Gretel entered. The “healing kit,” which ry had been envisioning as a hard


    stic-sided box with the Red Cross insignia on it, turned out to be a big wooden tray, stacked with folded bandages, steaming bowls of


    unidentified liquids, and herbs that gave off a pungent lemony odor. Gretel set the tray down beside the cot and gestured for ry to sit


    down, which she did unwillingly.


    “That''s a good girl,” said the wolf-woman, dipping a cloth into one of the bowls and lifting it to ry''s face. Gently she cleaned away the


    dried blood. "What happened to you?” she asked disapprovingly, as if she suspected ry of taking a cheese grater to her face.


    “I was wondering that myself.” said Luke, watching the goings-on with folded arms.


    “Hugo attacked me.” ry tried not to wince as the astringent liquid stung her wounds.


    “Hugo?” Luke blinked.


    “Hodge''s bird. I think it was his bird, anyway. Maybe it was Valentine''s.”


    “Hugin,” Luke said softly. “Hugin and Munin were Valentine’s pet birds. Their names mean ‘Thought’ and ‘Memory.”


    “Well, they should mean ‘Attack’ and ‘kill.” said ry. “Hugo almost tore my eyes out.”


    “That''s what he’s trained to do.” Luke was tapping the fingers of one hand against his other arm. "Hodge must have taken him in after the


    Uprising. But he''d still be Valentine''s creature


    “Just like Hodge was,” ry said, wincing as Gretel cleaned the long sh along her arm, which was crusted with dirt and dried blood.


    Then Gretel began bandaging it up neatly.


    “ry—


    “I don’t want to talk about the past anymore,” she said fiercely. "I want to know what we''re going to do now. Now Valentine’s got my mom,


    Jace—and the Cup. And we''ve got nothing.”


    “I wouldn''t say we have nothing,” said Luke. “We have a powerful wolf pack. The problem is that we don’t know where Valentine is.”


    ry shook her head. Lank strings of hair fell into her eyes, and she tossed them back impatiently. God, she was filthy. The one thing she


    wanted more than anything else—almost anything else—was a shower. “Doesn’t Valentine have some kind of hideout? A secretir?”


    “If he does,” said Luke, “he has kept it secret indeed.


    Gretel released ry, who moved her arm gingerly. The greenish ointment Gretel had smeared on the cut had minimized the pain, but the


    arm still felt stiff and wooden. “Wait a second,” ry said


    “I never understand why people say that,” Luke said, to no one in particr. "I wasn’t going anywhere.


    “Could Valentine be somewhere in New York?”


    “Possibly.


    “When I saw him at the Institute, he came through a Portal. Magnus said there are only two Portals in New York. One at Dorothea’s, and


    one at Renwick’s. The one at Dorothea’s was destroyed, and I can’t really see him hiding out there anyway, so—


    “Renwick’s?” Luke looked baffled. “Renwick isn''t a Shadowhunter name.”


    “What if Renwick isn’t a person, though?” said ry. “What if it''s a ce? Renwick’s. Like a restaurant, or ... or a hotel or something.”


    Luke''s eyes went suddenly wide. He turned to Gretel, who was advancing on him with the medical kit. "Get me a phone book.” he said.


    She stopped in her tracks, holding the tray out toward him in an usatory manner. “But, sir, your wounds—


    “Forget my wounds and get me a phone book,” he snapped. “We''re in a police station. You''d think there''d be plenty of ald ones around.


    With a look of disdainful exasperation Gretel set the tray down on the ground and marched out of the room. Luke looked at ry over his


    spectacles, which had slid partway down his nose. “Good thinking.


    She didn''t reply. There was a hard knot at the center of her stomach. She found herself trying to breathe around it. The beginning of a


    thought tickled at the edge of her mind, wanting to resolve itself into a full-blown realization. But she pushed it firmly down and away. She


    couldn''t afford to give her resources, her energy, to anything but the issue immediately at hand.


    Gretel returned with damp-locking yellow pages and thrust them at Luke. He read the book standing up while the wolf-woman attacked his


    injured side with bandages and sticky pots of ointment. “There are seven Renwicks in the phone book,” he said finally. “No restaurants,


    hotels, or other locations.” He pushed his spectacles up; they slid down again instantly. “They are not Shadowhunters,” he said, “and it


    seems unlikely to me that Valentine would set up headquarters in the home of a mundane or a Downworlder. Though, perhaps—”


    “Do you have a phone?” ry interrupted.


    “Not on me.” Luke, still holding the phone book, peered under it at Gretel. “Could you get the telephone?


    With a disgusted snort she tossed the wad of bloody cloths she''d been holding onto the floor, and stalked out of the room a second time.


    Luke set the phone book down on the table, picked up the roll of bandaging, and began winding it around the diagonal cut across his ribs.


    “Sorry,” he said, as ry stared. "I know it’s disgusting.”


    “If we catch Valentine,” she asked abruptly, “can we kill him?”


    Luke nearly dropped the bandages. “What?”


    She fiddled with a stray thread poking out of the pocket of her jeans. “He killed my older brother. He killed my grandparents. Didn’t he?”


    Luke set the bandages on the table and pulled his shirt down. “And you think killing him will what? Erase those things?”


    Gretel returned before ry could say anything to that. She wore a martyred expression and handed Luke a clunky-looking old-fashioned


    cell phone. ry wondered who paid the phone bills.


    ry held her hand out. “Let me make a call.”


    Luke seemed hesitant. “ry ...”


    “It''s about Renwick’s. It''ll only take a second.”


    He handed her the phone warily. She punched in the number, and half-turned away from him to give herself the illusion of privacy.


    Simon picked up on the third ring. “Hello?


    “It''s me.


    His voice climbed an octave. “Are you all right?”N?velDrama.Org owns all ? content.


    “I''m fine. Why? Have you heard anything from Isabelle?"


    “No. What would I have heard from Isabelle? Is there something wrong? Is it Alec?”


    “No,” ry said, not wanting to lie and say that Alec was fine. “It’s not Alec. Look, I just need you to Google something for me.


    Simon snorted. “You''re kidding. Don’t they have aputer there? You know what, don''t answer that.” She heard the sounds of a door


    opening and the thump-meow as Simon''s mother’s cat was banished from his perch on the keyboard of hisputer. She could picture


    Simon quite clearly in her head as he sat down, his fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. “What do you want me to look up?"


    She told him. She could feel Luke''s worried eyes on her as she talked. It was the same way he''d looked at her when she was eleven years.


    old and had the flu with a spiking fever. He’d brought her ice cubes to suck on and had read to her out of her favorite books, doing all the


    voices.


    “You''re right.” Simon said, snapping her out of her reverie. “It’s a ce. Or at least, it was a ce. It''s abandoned now.


    Her sweaty hand slipped on the phone, and she tightened her grip. “Tell me about it.


    ue


    The most famous of the lunatic


    asylums, debtar’s prisons, and


    hospitals built‘on Roosevelt Ind in


    the 1800s,"Simon read dutifully. ~


    “Renwick Smallpox Hospital was>


    designed by architect Jacob on


    Renwick and intended to quarantine


    thespoorest victims of Manfiattan’s


    Uficontroble smallpox epidemic.


    During the next century the hospital


    was abandoned to disrepair. Public


    ess to the ruin is forbidden.”


    “Okay, that’s enough,” said ry. her heart pounding. “That’s got to be it. Roosevelt Ind? Don''t people live there?


    “Not everyone lives in the Slope, princess,” said Simon, with a fair degree of mock sarcasm. “Anyway, do you need me to give you a ride


    again or something?


    “No! I''m fine, I don''t need anything. I just wanted the information.”


    “All right.” He sounded a little hurt, ry thought, but told herself it didn’t matter. He was safe at home, and that was what was important


    She hung up, turning to Luke. “There''s an abandoned hospital at the south end of Roosevelt Ind called Renwick''s. I think Valentine’s


    there."


    Luke shoved his sses up again. “ckwell''s Ind. Of course.”


    “What do you mean, ckwell''s? I said—"


    He cut her off with a gesture. “That’s what Roosevelt Ind used to be called. ckwell''s. It was owned by an old Shadowhunter family. I


    should have guessed.” He turned to Gretel. "Get ric. We''re going to need everyone back here as soon as possible.” His lips were curled


    into a half smile that reminded ry of the cold grin Jace wore during fights. “Tell them to ready themselves for battle.”


    They made their way up to the street via a circuitous maze of cells and corridors that eventually opened out into what had once been the


    lobby of a police station. The building was abandoned now, and the nting light ofte afternoon cast strange shadows over the empty


    desks, the padlocked cabs pocked with ck termite holes, the cracked floor tiles spelling out the motto of the NYPD: Fidelis ad


    Mortem


    “Faithful unto death,” said Luke, following her gaze.


    “Let me guess,” said ry. “On the inside it''s an abandoned police station; from the outside, mundanes only see a condemned apartment


    building, or a vacant lot, or


    “Actually it looks like a Chinese restaurant from the outside,” Luke said. “Takeout only, no table service.”


    “A Chinese restaurant?” ry echoed in disbelief.


    He shrugged. “Well, we are in Chinatown. This was the Second Precinct building once.”


    “People must think it’s weird that there’s no phone number to call for orders.


    Luke grinned. “There is. We just don''t answer it much. Sometimes. if they''re bored, some of the cubs will deliver someone some mu shu


    pork.”


    “You''re kidding.


    “Not at all. The tipse in handy.” He pushed the front door open, letting in a stream of sunlight.


    Still not sure whether he was kidding


    or not, ry followed Luke across


    Baxter Street to where his car was


    parked. The inside of the pickup


    truck was ceinfortingly familiar. The


    faint smetkof wood chips and old =>


    paper ard soap, the faded pair of


    plushgold dice that she’d giver him


    wher''she was ten because they


    looked like the gold dice hanging


    from the rearview mirror-of the


    Millennium Falcon. The discarded


    gum wrappers and empty coffee


    cups rolling around on the floor.


    ry hauled herself up into the


    passenger seat, settling back


    against the headrest with a sigh. She


    was more tired than she would have


    liked to admit.


    Luke shut the door after her. “Stay right here.”


    She watched as he talked to Gretel


    nd ric, who were standing on


    he steps of the old police station,


    waiting patiently. ry amused


    erself by letting her eyes fade in


    and out of fogus, watching the


    mour appear and disappear. First


    it was arvold police station, then t+


    was a diapidated storefront =~


    portiag a yellow awning thatead


    JADE WOLF CHINESE CUISINE.


    ‘ake was gesturing to his*second


    and third, pointing down the street.


    His pickup was the first in a line of


    ans, motorcycles, Jeeps, and even


    a wrecked-looking old school bus.


    The vehicles stretched in a line


    down the block and around the


    corner. A convoy of werewolves.


    ry wondered how they''d begged,


    borrowed, stolen, ormandeered


    so many vehicles on such short


    notice. On the plus side, at least they


    wouldn''t all have to go on the aerial


    tram.


    mM


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