Also by Cassandra Clare

never have allowed you in.”
“You could be a little more polite.” Emma felt an edge creep into her voice. “Considering we’re
trying to help you. And that you felt Cristina up.”
“I didn’t,” he said, his eyes flicking between them.
“You did,” Cristina said. “It was very disgusting.”
“Then why are you trying to help me?” Sterling asked.
“Because nobody deserves to die,” Emma said. “And to be honest, there’re things we want to
know. What’s the point of the Lottery? How does it make you all stronger?”
He stared at them, shaking his head. “You’re insane.” He slammed his thumb down on his key
remote; the Jeep’s headlights flashed as it unlocked. “Stay away from me. Like Belinda said. No
interfering.”
He jerked the door open and hurled himself into the car. A second later the Jeep was screeching
away down the street, leaving black tire marks on the asphalt.
Emma expelled a breath. “Kind of hard to stay desperately concerned about his well-being, isn’t
it?”
Cristina looked after the Jeep. “It is a test,” she said. Her knife had disappeared, slipped back
under her collar. “The Angel would say we were put here to save not only those we like but also the
unpleasant and disagreeable.”
“You said your mother would have stabbed him.”
“Yes, well,” said Cristina. “We don’t always agree about everything.”
Before Emma could reply, the Institute’s Toyota pulled up in front of them. Mark leaned out the
back window. Even with everything that was happening, Emma felt a spark of happiness that Jules
had saved the seat next to him for her. “Your chariot, fair ones,” Mark said. “Enter and hie we away
before we are followed.”
“Was that English?” Cristina demanded, climbing in beside him. Emma darted to the car to slide
into the front seat.
Julian looked over at her. “That looked like a pretty dramatic conversation.” The car slid forward,
away from the odd street, the peculiar theater. They passed over the tire tracks the Jeep had made on
the road.
“He didn’t want our help,” said Emma.
“But he’s getting it anyway,” Julian said. “Isn’t he?”
“If we can track him down,” said Emma. “They could all have been using assumed names.” She put
her feet up on the dashboard. “It might be worth asking Johnny Rook. Since they were advertising at
the Shadow Market and he knows everything that happens there.”
“Didn’t Diana tell you to stay away from Johnny Rook?” said Julian.
“Isn’t Diana kind of far away right now?” Emma said sweetly.
Julian looked resigned but also amused. “Fine. I trust you. If you think there’s a reason, we’ll go
ask Rook.”
They were turning onto La Cienega. The lights and clamor and traffic of Los Angeles exploded all
around them. Emma clapped her hands. “And that’s why I love you.”
The words slipped out without her thinking. Neither Cristina nor Mark seemed to notice—they
were arguing about whether “hie” was a word—but Julian’s cheeks turned a dull brick red and his
hands tightened on the wheel.
When they reached the Institute, a storm was building out over the ocean—a roil of blue-black clouds