Also by Cassandra Clare

Cristina nodded. “I can do it. Diana left the truck; I’ll take it. I need the address, though.”
“Julian has it. And I’ll give you a note for him.”
“Good, because he’ll ask,” said Cristina dryly. There was a sudden terrible noise from the kitchen:
the sound of Dru running across the kitchen floor and throwing up noisily into the sink.
“Oh, poor girl,” said Emma. “But I mean, that thing she drank was really disgusting. . . .”
“Emma, I know that you’re not telling me the truth. I know you are not going to see Cameron
Ashdown.” Cristina held up a hand, stifling Emma’s protest. “And it is all right. You would not lie to
me without good reason. It’s just—”
“Yes?” Emma said. She tried to keep her eyes guileless. It was better, she told herself. If Diana
caught her, if she got in trouble, she’d be the only one who did: Cristina and Julian didn’t deserve
that. She could weather it on her own.
“Be careful,” Cristina said. “Don’t make me regret lying for you, Emma Carstairs.”
The sun was a brilliant ball of flame out over the ocean as Emma steered the Toyota up the dirt road
that led to the convergence. The sky was darkening fast. The Toyota bumped the last few yards over
the field, nearly rolling into a shallow ditch before she braked and cut the engine.
She got out, reaching back inside to pull out weapons. She had left Cortana back at the Institute. It
had caused her a pang, but walking out with it strapped to her back would have invited questions. At
least there were seraph blades. She tucked one into her belt and thumbed her witchlight stone out of
her pocket, glancing around as she did—it was oddly quiet here, with no sound of insects, small
animals, or birdsong. Only the wind in the grass.
The Mantid demons. At night they probably came out and ate everything living. She shuddered and
strode toward the cave. The convergence entrance was opening, a thick black line against the granite.
She glanced back once, worriedly—the sun was lower than she would have liked, dying the ocean
water bloody. She’d parked as close as she could to the cave entrance so that if it was dark when she
emerged, she could get to the car quickly. It was looking more and more likely that she’d have to kill
some Mantids on the way, though.
As she strode toward the sheer wall of rock, the black line widened a little more, as if welcoming
her. She leaned against the rock with one hand, peering into the gap. It smelled oddly of seawater.
She thought of her parents. Please let me find something, she prayed. Please let me find a clue,
discover how this connects to what was done to you. Please let me avenge you.
So I can sleep at night.
Inside the gap, Emma could see the dim gleam of the rock corridor leading into the cave’s heart.
Gripping her witchlight, Emma plunged into the convergence.
Night had nearly fallen—the sky was shading from blue to indigo, the first stars twinkling out above
the distant mountains. Cristina sat with her legs up on the dashboard of the truck, her eyes fixed on the
two-story ranch house that belonged to Casper Sterling.
The Jeep she recognized was parked in the court in front of the house, under an old-growth olive
tree. A low wall ran around the property; the neighborhood, just beside Hancock Park, was full of
expensive but not particularly showy houses. Sterling’s was closed, shuttered and dark. The only
evidence she had that he was home was the car in the driveway.
She thought of Mark, then wished she hadn’t. She was doing that a lot these days—thinking of Mark
and then regretting it. She had worked hard to return her life to normal after she left Mexico. No more
romances with brooding and troubled men, no matter how handsome.