Also by Cassandra Clare

their food back up the hill.
Julian on his knees, skinny in jeans and sweatshirt, scrubbing the floor. The kitchen had been
designed by his mother, it was a piece of her, but it was also a piece of everything he’d given over the
years to his family.
And he would do it again, Emma thought. Of course he would: He loved them that fiercely. The
only thing that made Julian angry was fear, fear for his sisters and brothers.
He was afraid now, though Emma wasn’t sure why. She saw only the look on his face as he
registered their resentment of him, their disappointment. The fire seemed to go out of him. He slid
down the front of the stove until he was sitting on the floor.
“Jules?” It was Tavvy, white granules coating his hair. He shuffled close and put his arms around
Julian’s neck.
Jules made an odd sound, and then he pulled his brother in and hugged him fiercely. Sugar sifted
down onto his black gear, dusting it with white powder.
The kitchen door opened and Emma heard a gasp of surprise. She turned and saw Cristina gaping at
the mess. “¡Qué desastre!”
It didn’t exactly require a translation. Mark cleared his throat and began stacking dirty dishes in the
sink. Not so much stacking them as flinging them, really. Livvy went over to help him while Cristina
stared.
“Where’s Diana?” Emma asked.
“She’s home. Malcolm Portaled us there and back,” said Cristina, not taking her eyes off the
charred pots on the stove. “She said she needed to catch up on sleep.”
Still holding Tavvy, Julian stood up. There was powdered sugar on his shirt, in his hair, but his
face was calm, expressionless. “Sorry about the mess, Cristina.”
“It’s fine,” she said, looking around the room. “It is not my kitchen. Though,” she added hastily, “I
can help you clean up.”
“Mark will clean up,” Julian said, without looking at his brother. “Did you and Diana find anything
out from Malcolm?”
“He had gone to see some warlocks he thought might be able to help,” said Cristina. “We talked
about Catarina Loss. I’ve heard of her—she teaches at the Academy sometimes, Downworlder
studies. Apparently both Malcolm and Diana are good friends with her, so they exchanged a lot of
stories I didn’t really understand.”
“Well, here’s what we learned from Rook,” said Emma, and launched into the story, leaving out the
part where Ty had almost sliced off Kit Rook’s head.
“So someone needs to tail Sterling,” said Livvy eagerly when Emma was done. “Ty and I could do
it.”
“You can’t drive,” Emma pointed out. “And we need you here for research.”
Livvy made a face. “So we get stuck here reading ‘it was many and many a year ago’ nine thousand
times?”
“There’s no reason we can’t learn how to drive,” said Ty, looking mulish. “Mark was saying, it’s
not like it matters that we’re not sixteen, it’s not as if we have to obey mundane laws anyway—”
“Did Mark say that?” Julian said quietly. “Fine. Mark can teach you how to drive.”
Mark dropped a plate into the sink with a crash. “Julian—”
“What is it, Mark?” said Jules. “Oh, right, you don’t actually know how to drive, either. And of
course teaching someone to drive takes time, but you might not actually be here. Because there’s no
guarantee you’re staying.”