Also by Cassandra Clare

Livvy, and Mark’s plate of strawberries.
Cristina took out her stele and scribbled, humming, on a corner of the gold paper. Mark, looking
beatific, took the dispenser of maple syrup off the table and upended it over his strawberries. He
picked one up and put it in his mouth, stem and all. Julian stared at him.
“What?” Mark said. “This is a perfectly normal thing to eat.”
“Sure it is,” said Julian. “If you’re a hummingbird.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Look,” Cristina said, and pushed the golden paper toward the middle of
the table. It was no longer blank. Instead it featured the shimmering photo of a building, and beside it
words in block letters.
THE FOLLOWERS OF THE GUARDIAN
INVITE YOU TO THE LOTTERY
THIS MONTH’S PERFORMANCE: AUGUST 11, 7 P.M.
THE MIDNIGHT THEATER
This ticket admits one group. Semiformal attire.
“The Lottery?” Julian echoed. “That’s the name of a famous horror story. Did they make it into a
play or something?”
“It doesn’t sound like a play,” said Livvy. “It sounds creepy.”
“It could be a creepy play,” said Ty.
“It was a creepy story.” Julian picked up the ticket. There was paint under his fingernails,
shimmering small crescents of blue. “And the creepiest thing about this is that this theater is shut
down. I know the place; it’s up past Highland Park. It’s been been shut down for years.”
“Sixteen years,” said Ty. He had mastered the art of using his phone one-handed and was squinting
at the screen. “Shut down after a fire and never rebuilt.”
“I’ve driven past it,” Emma said. “It’s all boarded up, isn’t it?”
Julian nodded. “I painted it once. I was painting abandoned buildings, places like the Murphy
Ranch, closed businesses. I remember that one. It had a ghostly feel.”
“It’s interesting,” Mark said. “But does it have anything to do with the investigation? The
murders?”
Everyone looked mildly surprised that Mark had asked something so practical. “I think it might,”
Emma said. “I was at the Shadow Market last week—”
“I wish you’d quit going to the Shadow Market,” Julian muttered. “It’s dangerous there—”
“Oh, NO,” Emma said. “Not danger, Mr. I-Just-Almost-Bled-Out-in-My-Car.”
Julian sighed and reached for his soda. “I can’t believe I ever complained about ‘Jules’ as a
nickname.”
“Maybe we should talk about the Shadow Market,” said Cristina hastily. “It is where Emma first
heard information about the murders.”
“Well, you can imagine how happy the Marketers were to see me and Cameron—”
“You went with Cameron?” Julian said.
Livvy held up a hand. “In Emma’s defense, Cameron’s annoying, but he’s hot.” Julian gave her a
look. “I mean, if you like guys who look like a redheaded Captain America, which I . . . don’t?”
“Captain America is definitely the most handsome Avenger,” said Cristina. “But I like the Hulk. I
would like to heal his broken heart.”
“We’re Nephilim,” said Julian. “We’re not even supposed to know about the Avengers. Besides,”