Also by Cassandra Clare

Diego whirled around and began striding down the alley. “If that is a joke, it’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” said Cristina. “We have been trying to protect him.”
“What?” Diego turned the corner into a blind alley, where a chain-link fence closed them off from
the street beyond. He climbed it expertly, dropping lightly to the ground on the other side. Emma
scrambled up after, and Cristina next. Diego appeared to be fiddling with his weapons belt, but Emma
could tell he was watching Cristina out of the corner of his eye, making sure she landed safely. “Why
would you protect a murderer?”
“He’s not a murderer,” Cristina said. “He is a victim. And he’s very unpleasant, but this is our
job.”
They had turned onto a dead-end street lined with houses. Crabgrass and cactus grew on
overgrown lawns. Diego moved with purpose toward the end of the street.
“Didn’t you understand?” Diego shook his head, his dark hair flying. “Why everyone must stay
away from him? I can’t believe this. I can’t believe—everything you’ve done—you saw him get the
number? At the Lottery? You saw him chosen?”
“Yes,” said Emma, a cold feeling beginning to spread through her veins. “Yes, that’s how we knew
we needed to protect him—”
A sudden, blinding flare of light shot like fireworks from the far end of the street. A swirl of greenand-blue
fire, edged with red. Cristina’s eyes were wide, the flaring sparks touching her hair with
scarlet.
Diego swore and took off running. After a split second, Emma and Cristina followed.
Emma had never met a Shadowhunter she couldn’t keep up with, but Diego was fast. Really fast.
She was breathing hard by the time they skidded to a stop at the end of the street.
The cul-de-sac ended in a row of abandoned houses. Sterling’s car had slammed into a dead
streetlamp, the hood crumpled, the driver’s side door hanging open. One of the air bags had exploded,
but Sterling was unharmed.
He was in the middle of the road, struggling with someone—the girl with green hair Emma had
seen earlier, on the street in front of the bar. She was pulling to get away from him; he had a hand
fisted in the back of her coat, and the look on his face was half-maniacal.
“Let her go!” Diego shouted. The three of them began to run, Emma reaching for Cortana. Sterling,
seeing them, began to drag the girl around to the other side of his car. Emma, hurtling toward the Jeep,
leaped onto the hood, scrambled over the roof, and dropped down on the other side.
To be met with a sheet of blue-green fire. Sterling was standing behind it, still clasping the greenhaired
girl. Her eyes met Emma’s. She had a slight, elfin face—a recollection of seeing her at the
Midnight Theater touched the edge of Emma’s memory.
Emma leaped forward. The blue-green fire blasted upward, knocking her back several steps.
Sterling raised his hand. Something glittered in his grasp—a knife.
“Stop him!” Diego shouted. He and Cristina had appeared on the other side of the wall of blue fire.
Emma pushed forward—though it was like walking against a typhoon—just as Sterling brought the
knife down, plunging it into the girl’s chest.
Cristina screamed.
No, Emma thought, shocked through with horror. No, no, no. It was a Shadowhunter’s job to save
people, to protect them. Sterling couldn’t harm the girl, he couldn’t—
For a moment she saw a darkness within the fire—caught a glimpse of the inside of the
convergence cave, carved all over with poetry and symbols—and then hands reached from the
darkness and snatched the girl from Sterling’s grip. Emma glimpsed them only briefly, amid the flame