Also by Cassandra Clare

this whole investigation, like you were hiding something from us—”
Diana recoiled. “Emma, no, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like? Because I can’t imagine what possible reason you could have for being here
—”
There was a noise. Approaching footsteps, from the shadows. Diana flung out a hand. “Get back—
get away—”
Julian grabbed for Livvy, hauling his sister back into the shadows just as Malcolm appeared.
Malcolm.
He looked just as he always did. A bit scruffy in jeans and a white linen jacket that matched his
hair. In his hand he carried a large black book, tied with a leather strap.
“It is you,” Diana whispered.
Malcolm looked at her calmly.
“Diana Wrayburn,” he said. “Now, now. I didn’t expect to see you here. I rather thought you’d run
away.”
Diana faced him. “I don’t run.”
He seemed to look at her again, to see how close she was to Tavvy. He frowned. “Step away from
the boy.”
Diana didn’t move.
“Do it,” he said, tucking the Black Volume into his jacket. “He’s nothing to you, anyway. You’re not
a Blackthorn.”
“I’m his tutor. He has grown up in my care.”
“Oh, come now,” said Malcolm. “If you’d cared about those children, you’d have taken the post as
head of the Institute years ago. But I suppose we all know why you didn’t do that.”
Malcolm grinned. It transformed his whole face. If Emma had still held lingering doubts about his
guilt, about the story Kieran had told, they vanished in that moment. His mobile, amusing features
seemed to harden. There was cruelty in that smile, framed against a backdrop of echoing, depthless
loss.
A flare went up from the table, a burst of fire. Diana cried out and stumbled back, out of the circle
of protection. It sealed itself up behind her. She hurled herself to her feet and threw herself toward
Tavvy, but this time the circle held fast; she bounced off it as if off a glass wall, the force sending her
staggering back.
“No human thing can cross that barrier,” said Malcolm. “I’m guessing you had a charm to get you
through the first time, but it won’t work again. You should have stayed away.”
“You can’t possibly hope for success, Malcolm,” Diana gasped. She was clutching her left arm
with her right; the skin looked burned. “If you kill a Shadowhunter, the Nephilim will hunt you for the
rest of your days.”
“They hunted me two hundred years ago. They killed her,” said Malcolm, and the throb of emotion
in his voice was something Emma had never heard before. “And we had done nothing. Nothing. I do
not fear them, their unjust justice or unlawful laws.”
“I understand your pain, Malcolm,” Diana said carefully. “But—”
“Do you? Do you understand, Diana Wrayburn?” he snarled—then his voice softened. “Maybe you
do. You have known the injustice and intolerance of the Clave. If only you hadn’t come here—it’s the
Blackthorns I despise, not the Wrayburns. I always rather liked you.”
“You liked me because you thought I was too frightened of the Clave to look closely at you,” Diana
said, turning away from him. “To suspect you.” For a moment she faced Emma and the others. She