Also by Cassandra Clare

It looked as if the kitchen had exploded.
The refrigerator had been emptied out. Ketchup decorated its once-white surface in scarlet swirls.
One of the pantry doors was hanging off its hinges. The Costco tub of maple syrup had been dragged
out, and syrup covered almost every available surface. A massive bag of powdered sugar had been
torn open and Tavvy was sitting inside it, completely covered in white powder. He looked like a tiny
abominable snowman.
Mark seemed to have tried cooking, since there were pans on the stove, filled with burned
substances that were pouring smoke into the air. The flames were still on. Julian darted to turn them
off while Emma stared.
Julian’s kitchen, which he’d stocked with food for five years, kept clean and cooked in, made
pancakes in—was destroyed. Bags of candy had been ripped open and littered the floor. Dru was
sitting on the counter, poking at a glass of something foul-looking and humming happily to herself.
Livvy was curled up on one of the bench seats, giggling, a stick of licorice in her hand. Ty was beside
her, licking a speck of sugar from the back of his wrist.
Mark emerged from the pantry wearing a white apron with red hearts on it and carrying two pieces
of singed bread. “Toast!” he announced happily, before catching sight of Julian and Emma.
There was a silence. Julian appeared to be struggling for words; Emma found herself backing
toward the door. She had suddenly remembered the fights Mark and Julian used to have when they
were children. They had been vicious and bloody in scope, and Julian had given as good as he got.
In fact, sometimes he had given before he got.
Mark raised his eyebrows. “Toast?”
“That’s my toast,” Ty pointed out.
“Right.” Mark crossed the room, side-eyeing Julian as he went. Julian was still wordless, slumped
against the stove. “And what do you want on your toast?”
“Pudding,” Ty said promptly.
“Pudding?” Julian echoed. Emma had to admit that when she’d imagined the first word Julian was
going to say out loud in this situation, it hadn’t been “pudding.”
“Why not pudding?” Livvy said equably, locating a container of tapioca pudding and handing it to