Also by Cassandra Clare

the same.
She had the same sweet expression Emma remembered, and the same kind voice. She had looked at
Kit with love and sadness when she had gone over to him and held out her hand.
Christopher Herondale.
“But Kit is short for Christopher, is it not?” Tessa asked now, still gently. Kit said nothing.
“Christopher Jonathan Herondale is your true name. And your father was Jonathan, too, right?”
Johnny. Jonathan.
There were a thousand Shadowhunters named Jonathan. Jonathan Shadowhunter had founded the
whole race of Nephilim. It was Jace’s name as well.
Emma had heard Tessa back at the house, of course, but she still couldn’t quite believe it. Not just a
Shadowhunter in hiding, but a Herondale. Clary and Jace would need to be told. They would likely
come running. “He’s a Herondale? Like Jace?”
“Jace Herondale,” Kit muttered. “My father said he was one of the worst.”
“One of the worst what?” Jem asked.
“Shadowhunters.” Kit spat the word. “And I’m not one, by the way. I’d know.”
“Would you?” Jem’s voice was mild. “How?”
“None of your business,” Kit said. “I know what you’re doing. My dad told me you’d kidnap
anyone under nineteen with the Sight. Anyone you thought you could make into a Shadowhunter.
There’s barely any of you left after the Dark War.”
Emma opened her mouth to mount an indignant protest, but Tessa was already speaking. “Your
father said many things that weren’t true,” she said. “Not to speak ill of the dead, Christopher, but I
doubt I am telling you anything you don’t already know. And it is one thing to have the Sight. It is
another thing to fight off a Mantid demon with no training.”
“You said you’ve been looking for him?” Emma asked, as the run-down Topanga Canyon Motel
flashed by, its smeared windows dull brown in the sunshine. “Why?”
“Because he is a Herondale,” said Jem. “And the Carstairs owe the Herondales.”
A faint shudder went through Emma. Her father had spoken the same words to her, many times.
“Years ago, Tobias Herondale was convicted of desertion,” said Jem. “He was sentenced to death,
but he could not be found, so the sentence was carried out on his wife instead. She was pregnant. A
warlock, Catarina Loss, smuggled the baby to safety in the New World.”
“The sentence was carried out on his pregnant wife?” Kit said. “What is wrong with you people?”
“That is screwed up,” Emma said, for once in agreement with Kit. “So Kit here is descended from
Tobias Herondale?”
Tessa nodded. “There is no defense for the Clave’s actions. As you know, I was Tessa Herondale
once—I knew of Tobias; his story was a legend of horror. But only a few years ago was I told by
Catarina of the survival of the child. Jem and I decided to find what had become of the Herondale
line. Much searching led us to your father, Kit.”
“My father’s last name was Rook,” Kit muttered.
“Legally, your family has had several names,” said Tessa. “It made it quite hard to find you. I
assume your father knew of his Shadowhunter blood and was hiding you from us. Certainly posing out
in the open as a mundane with the Sight was clever. He was able to make connections, ward his
house, bury his identity. Bury you.”
Kit spoke in a dull voice. “He used to say I was his biggest secret.”
Emma turned onto the road to the Institute.
“Christopher,” said Tessa. “We are not Shadowhunters, Jem and I. We are not the Clave, bent on