Also by Cassandra Clare

Cristina and I will go for a while, and then we can switch off with Julian and Mark, or Diana.”
“Or me and Ty,” suggested Livvy sweetly.
Julian’s eyes were troubled. “Emma, are you sure—”
“Emma is right,” Cristina said, unexpectedly. “Taking shifts is the cautious thing to do.”
Cautious. Emma couldn’t remember that word being applied to her in recent history. Julian glanced
away, hiding his expression. At last, he said, “Fine. You win. You two go. But if you need any backup,
swear that you’ll call right away.”
His gaze locked with Emma’s as he spoke. The others were talking, discussing how they should
search the library, look back through books detailing different kinds of spells, how long it would take
to finish the rest of the translation, whether Malcolm might come to help them, whether they should
order vampire pizza.
“Come on, Emma,” said Cristina, rising to her feet and folding the map into her jacket pocket. “We
should get going. We need to change into gear and catch up to Sterling—he’s heading toward the
freeway.”
Emma nodded and turned to follow Cristina. She could feel Julian’s gaze on her, like a sharp point
between her shoulder blades. Don’t turn back to look at him, she told herself, but she couldn’t help
it; at the door, she turned, and the look on his face almost undid her.
He looked like she felt. Hollow and bled dry. It wasn’t that she was walking away from the boy she
loved with a thousand words unsaid between them, Emma thought, though it was true that she was
doing that. It was that she was terrified that a rift had opened between her and the person who had
been her best friend as long as she could remember. And from the look of it, Julian was afraid of the
same thing.
“Sorry,” Emma said, as the car righted itself. They’d been driving around for several hours as
Sterling hurtled all over the city, and her hands were starting to ache from gripping the wheel.
Cristina sighed. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Emma shifted. She was wearing her gear jacket, and it was hot in the car. She felt as if all her skin
was itching. “I’m really, really sorry, Tina,” she said. “I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have asked you to
cover up for me when I went to the convergence. It wasn’t fair.”
Cristina was silent for a moment. “I would have done it,” she said. “If you’d told me what it was
about.”
Emma’s throat felt tight. “I’m not used to trusting people. But I should have trusted you. When you
leave, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m going to miss you so much.”
Cristina smiled at her. “Come to the D.F.,” she said. “See how we do things there. You can take
your travel year in my city.” She paused. “I forgive you, by the way.”
A small weight lifted from Emma’s chest. “I’d love to go to Mexico,” she said. “And Julian would
—”
She broke off. Of course most people with parabatai accompanied them on their travel year. But
the thought of Julian hurt, a sharp quick pain like a needle stick.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Cristina asked.
“No,” Emma said.
“Fine. Then turn left onto Entrada,” Cristina said.
“It’s like having supernatural GPS,” Emma observed. She could see Cristina scowling at the map
across her knees in the passenger seat.
“We head toward Santa Monica,” Cristina said, tracing a finger along the map. “Go down