Also by Cassandra Clare

“Emma!” There were pounding footsteps in the corridor. Out of the shadows, Julian appeared. She
saw his stricken expression as he caught her to him, his hands knotting in her soaked, bloodstained
gear. “Emma, God, I couldn’t get to you through the wall, I knew you were there but I couldn’t save
you—”
“You saved me,” she said hoarsely, wanting to show him the Endurance rune on her arm, but she
was pressed too tightly against him to move. “You did. You don’t know it, but you did.”
And then she heard their voices. The others, coming toward them down the corridor. Mark.
Cristina. Diego. Diana.
“Tavvy,” she whispered. “Is he—”
“He’s fine. He’s outside with Ty and Livvy and Dru.” He kissed her temple. “Emma.” His lips
brushed hers. She felt a shock of love and pain go through her.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “You have to let me go, they can’t see us like this. Julian, let me go.”
His head came up, his eyes full of agony, and he moved away. She saw what it cost him, saw the
tremor in his hands as he lowered them to his sides. Felt the space between them like the space of a
wound torn into flesh.
She dragged her gaze from his and looked down at the ground. The floor was awash with seawater
and blood, ankle-deep. Somewhere Malcolm’s candelabra floated beneath the surface.
Emma was glad. The salt would dissolve Malcolm’s gruesome monument to murder, dissolve it
and pick it clean, and it would be white bones, settling as Malcolm’s body settled to the floor of the
ocean. And for the first time in a long time, Emma felt grateful to the sea.