Also by Cassandra Clare

nearly collided with Cristina outside her bedroom door.
“You slept so long, I was worried,” Cristina scolded. “Are you okay?”
“I will be once I have breakfast. Maybe something chocolate.”
“It’s much too late for breakfast. It’s past lunchtime. Julian sent me up to get you—he says he has
drinks and sandwiches in the car but you have to get going now.”
“Do you think they’re chocolate sandwiches?” Emma inquired, falling into step beside Cristina as
they both headed for the stairs.
“What’s a chocolate sandwich?”
“You know: bread, chocolate bar, butter.”
“That is disgusting.” Cristina shook her head; the pearls in her earlobes gleamed.
“Not as disgusting as coffee. You off to Malcolm’s?”
Cristina flashed a smile. “I shall ask a million questions of your purply-eyed warlock so that Diana
doesn’t think about you and Julian or whether you might be at Mr. Rook’s.”
“I’m not sure he’s a mister,” Emma said, stifling a yawn. “I’ve never heard anyone call him
anything but ‘hey, Rook’ or sometimes ‘that bastard.’”
“That is very rude,” said Cristina. There was something playful in her dark eyes. “I think Mark is
nervous about being alone with the younger ones. This should be very amusing.” She tugged one of
Emma’s damp braids. “Julian is waiting for you downstairs.”
“Good luck distracting Malcolm,” Emma called as Cristina strode off down the hallway toward the
kitchen where Diana was, presumably, waiting.
Cristina winked. “Good luck getting information, cuata.”
Shaking her head, Emma headed down to the parking lot, where she found Julian standing beside
the Toyota, examining the contents of the trunk. Beside him was Mark.
“I thought Cristina was going to be here,” Mark was saying as Emma approached. “I did not realize
she was going to Malcolm’s. I did not think that I would be left alone with the children.”
“They’re not children,” Julian said, nodding a greeting at Emma. “Ty and Livvy are fifteen; they’ve
looked after the others before.”
“Tiberius is angry that you are not allowing him to come with you to Rook’s,” said Mark. “He said
he was going to lock himself in his room.”
“Terrific,” said Julian. His voice was rough; he looked as if he hadn’t slept. Emma wondered what
could have kept him up. Research? “I guess you’ll know where he is. Look, the only one who needs
looking after is Tavvy.”
Mark looked ill with horror. “I know.”
“He’s a kid, not a bomb,” said Emma, buckling on a weapons belt. There were several seraph
blades and a stele thrust through it. She wasn’t in gear, just jeans and a jacket that would hide the
sword on her back. Not that she expected trouble, but she hated going out without Cortana, currently
napping in the trunk. “It’ll be okay. Dru and Livvy can help.”
“Maybe this mission of yours is too dangerous,” Mark said, as Julian slammed the trunk shut. “A
faerie would tell you that a rook is a black crow—a bird of ill omen.”
“I know,” Julian said, sliding a final, thin dagger into the holder strapped around his wrist. “It also
means to cheat or to swindle. It was my word of the day last year from Diana.”
“Johnny Rook is a swindler, all right,” Emma agreed. “He swindles mundanes. We’ll be fine.”
“The children could set themselves on fire,” Mark said. He didn’t sound like he was joking.
“Ty and Livvy are fifteen,” said Emma. “They’re nearly the same age you were when you joined
the Hunt. And you were—”