Queen of Air and Darkness
Page 143
“Stay away from my children,” said Magnus. “I’m watching you, Herondale.”
Kit felt a brief jolt before realizing Magnus wasn’t talking to him. Then another when he realized he’d reacted unconsciously to the name Herondale.
“This is great,” said Helen, yawning. “I haven’t been camping in so long. You can’t go camping on Wrangel Island. Your fingers will turn to icicles and snap right off.”
Emma frowned. “Where’s Cristina?”
Kit glanced around: Emma was right. Cristina had slipped away from the group.
“She shouldn’t be walking around the edge of the forest,” Magnus said, frowning. “There are booby traps there. Quite well hidden, if I do say so myself.” He started to rise. “I’ll get her.”
Mark and Kieran were already on their feet.
“We will find her,” Mark said hastily. “In the Hunt, we learned much about traps.”
“And few know more about the ways of the forest than the fey,” said Kieran.
Magnus shrugged, but there was a knowing spark in his eye that Kit didn’t quite understand. “All right. Go ahead.”
As they vanished into the shadows, Emma smiled and placed another marshmallow on a stick.
“Let’s make a toast.” Aline raised a plastic cup of water. “To never being parted from our families again.” She gazed at the fire. “Once tomorrow comes, we’re never going to let the Clave do that to any of us again.”
“Not to be parted from family or friends,” said Helen, raising her glass.
“Or parabatai,” said Simon, winking at Clary.
Alec and Jace cheered, but Julian and Emma were silent. Emma seemed bleakly sad, staring down into her cup of water. She did not seem to see Julian, who looked at her for a single long moment before wrenching his gaze away.
“To never being parted,” Kit said, looking across the campfire at Ty.
Ty’s thin face was limned in light from the red-gold flames. “To never being parted,” he said, with a grave emphasis that made Kit shiver for reasons he did not understand.
* * *
Maryse could no longer return to the Inquisitor’s house, as Horace and Zara had moved into it. Instead she took Dru and the others to the Graymark house, the one Clary said she had stayed in when she’d first come to Idris.
Dru had gone to bed as soon as she politely could. She lay with the covers tucked up to her chin, looking at the last bits of sunlight fading from the circular windows. This side of the house faced onto a garden full of roses the color of old lace. A trellis climbed to the windows and circled them: At the height of summer they probably looked like necklaces of roses. Houses of old stone fell away down the hill toward the walls of Alicante—walls that tomorrow would be lined with Shadowhunters facing the Imperishable Fields.
Dru burrowed farther under the covers. She could hear Maryse in the room next door, singing to Max and Rafe and Tavvy, a lilting song in French. It was strange to be too old for singing to comfort you but too young to take part in battle preparations. She started to say their names to herself, as a sort of good luck charm: Jules and Emma. Mark and Helen. Ty and Li—
No. Not Livvy.
The singing had stopped. Dru heard footsteps in the hall and her door open; Maryse stuck her head in. “Is everything all right, Drusilla? Do you need anything?”
Dru would have liked a glass of water, but she didn’t know exactly how to talk to Max and Rafe’s imposing, dark-haired grandmother. She’d heard Maryse playing with Tavvy earlier, and she appreciated how kind this woman who was basically a stranger was being to them. She just wished she knew how to say it.
“No, that’s okay,” Dru said. “I don’t need anything.”
Maryse leaned against the doorjamb. “I know it’s hard,” she said. “When I was young, my parents always used to take my brother, Max, with them to hunt demons and leave me alone at home. They said I’d be frightened if I went with them. I always tried to tell them I was more frightened worrying they’d never come back.”
Dru tried to picture Maryse young, and couldn’t quite. She seemed old to Dru to even be a mom, though she knew she wasn’t. She was actually quite a young grandmother, but Dru had gotten used to people who looked like Julian and Helen being like mothers and fathers to her.
“They always did come back, though,” Maryse said. “And so will your family. I know it feels like what Julian is doing is risky, but he’s smart. Horace won’t try anything dangerous in front of so many people.”
“I should go to sleep,” Dru said in a small voice, and Maryse sighed, gave her an understanding nod, and closed the door. If she were home, a small voice said in the back of Dru’s mind, she wouldn’t have had to ask for anything—Helen, who knew she loved tea but that the caffeine kept her up, would have come in with a mug of the special decaffeinated blend they’d bought in England, with milk and honey in the mug the way Dru liked it.
She missed Helen, Dru realized. It was a weird feeling—somewhere along the way her resentment toward Helen had vanished. Now she just wished she’d said a better good-bye to her older sister before she’d left the Institute.
Maybe it was better that she hadn’t said the right kind of good-byes to her family. Maybe it meant she was definitely going to see them again.
Maybe it meant they’d be more forgiving when they found out what she was planning to do.
The light blinked out in the hall; Maryse must be going to sleep. Dru threw off her blanket; she was fully dressed underneath, down to her boots and gear jacket. She slid out of bed and went over to the circular window; it was stuck shut, but she’d been expecting that. Taking a small dagger with an adamas blade out of her pocket, she started to jimmy it open.
* * *
Kit lay awake in the darkness, counting the stars he could see through the open flap of the tent.
Emma and Julian had said the stars in Faerie were different, but here in Idris they were the same. The same constellations he had looked at all his life, peeking through the smog above Los Angeles, shone above Brocelind Forest. The air was clear here, clear as cut crystal, and the stars seemed almost alarmingly close, as if he could reach out and catch one in his hand.
Ty hadn’t come back with him from the campfire. Kit didn’t know where he was. Had he gone to talk to Jules or Helen? Was he wandering in the forest? No, Simon and Isabelle would have stopped him. But maybe Ty had found an animal he liked in the campsite. Kit’s mind started to race. Where is he? Why didn’t he take me with him? What if he can’t tame these squirrels the way he can the ones at home? What if he’s attacked by squirrels?
With a groan, Kit kicked off his covers and reached for a jacket.
Ty stuck his head into the tent, momentarily blotting out the stars. “Oh good, you’re already getting ready.”
Kit lowered his voice. “What do you mean, I’m getting ready? Ready for what?”
Ty dropped into a crouch and peered into the tent. “To go to the lake.”
“Ty,” said Kit. “I need you to explain. Don’t assume I know what you’re talking about.”
Ty exhaled with enough force to make his dark fringe of hair flutter above his forehead. “I brought the spell with me, and all the ingredients,” he said. “The best place to raise the dead is by water. I thought we’d do it next to the ocean, but Lake Lyn’s even better. It’s already a magic place.”
Kit blinked dizzily; he felt as if he’d woken up from a nightmare only to discover he was still dreaming. “But we don’t have what we need to make the spell work. Shade never gave us the catalyst.”
“I thought he might not do it,” said Ty. “That’s why I picked up an alternate energy source last time we were at the Shadow Market.” He reached into his pocket and took out a clear glass ball the size of an apricot. Red-orange flame blazed inside it as if it were a small, fiery planet, though it was clearly cool to the touch.
Kit jerked back. “Where did that come from?”
“I told you—the Shadow Market.”
Kit felt a wave of panic. “Who sold it to you? How do we even know it’ll work?”
Kit felt a brief jolt before realizing Magnus wasn’t talking to him. Then another when he realized he’d reacted unconsciously to the name Herondale.
“This is great,” said Helen, yawning. “I haven’t been camping in so long. You can’t go camping on Wrangel Island. Your fingers will turn to icicles and snap right off.”
Emma frowned. “Where’s Cristina?”
Kit glanced around: Emma was right. Cristina had slipped away from the group.
“She shouldn’t be walking around the edge of the forest,” Magnus said, frowning. “There are booby traps there. Quite well hidden, if I do say so myself.” He started to rise. “I’ll get her.”
Mark and Kieran were already on their feet.
“We will find her,” Mark said hastily. “In the Hunt, we learned much about traps.”
“And few know more about the ways of the forest than the fey,” said Kieran.
Magnus shrugged, but there was a knowing spark in his eye that Kit didn’t quite understand. “All right. Go ahead.”
As they vanished into the shadows, Emma smiled and placed another marshmallow on a stick.
“Let’s make a toast.” Aline raised a plastic cup of water. “To never being parted from our families again.” She gazed at the fire. “Once tomorrow comes, we’re never going to let the Clave do that to any of us again.”
“Not to be parted from family or friends,” said Helen, raising her glass.
“Or parabatai,” said Simon, winking at Clary.
Alec and Jace cheered, but Julian and Emma were silent. Emma seemed bleakly sad, staring down into her cup of water. She did not seem to see Julian, who looked at her for a single long moment before wrenching his gaze away.
“To never being parted,” Kit said, looking across the campfire at Ty.
Ty’s thin face was limned in light from the red-gold flames. “To never being parted,” he said, with a grave emphasis that made Kit shiver for reasons he did not understand.
* * *
Maryse could no longer return to the Inquisitor’s house, as Horace and Zara had moved into it. Instead she took Dru and the others to the Graymark house, the one Clary said she had stayed in when she’d first come to Idris.
Dru had gone to bed as soon as she politely could. She lay with the covers tucked up to her chin, looking at the last bits of sunlight fading from the circular windows. This side of the house faced onto a garden full of roses the color of old lace. A trellis climbed to the windows and circled them: At the height of summer they probably looked like necklaces of roses. Houses of old stone fell away down the hill toward the walls of Alicante—walls that tomorrow would be lined with Shadowhunters facing the Imperishable Fields.
Dru burrowed farther under the covers. She could hear Maryse in the room next door, singing to Max and Rafe and Tavvy, a lilting song in French. It was strange to be too old for singing to comfort you but too young to take part in battle preparations. She started to say their names to herself, as a sort of good luck charm: Jules and Emma. Mark and Helen. Ty and Li—
No. Not Livvy.
The singing had stopped. Dru heard footsteps in the hall and her door open; Maryse stuck her head in. “Is everything all right, Drusilla? Do you need anything?”
Dru would have liked a glass of water, but she didn’t know exactly how to talk to Max and Rafe’s imposing, dark-haired grandmother. She’d heard Maryse playing with Tavvy earlier, and she appreciated how kind this woman who was basically a stranger was being to them. She just wished she knew how to say it.
“No, that’s okay,” Dru said. “I don’t need anything.”
Maryse leaned against the doorjamb. “I know it’s hard,” she said. “When I was young, my parents always used to take my brother, Max, with them to hunt demons and leave me alone at home. They said I’d be frightened if I went with them. I always tried to tell them I was more frightened worrying they’d never come back.”
Dru tried to picture Maryse young, and couldn’t quite. She seemed old to Dru to even be a mom, though she knew she wasn’t. She was actually quite a young grandmother, but Dru had gotten used to people who looked like Julian and Helen being like mothers and fathers to her.
“They always did come back, though,” Maryse said. “And so will your family. I know it feels like what Julian is doing is risky, but he’s smart. Horace won’t try anything dangerous in front of so many people.”
“I should go to sleep,” Dru said in a small voice, and Maryse sighed, gave her an understanding nod, and closed the door. If she were home, a small voice said in the back of Dru’s mind, she wouldn’t have had to ask for anything—Helen, who knew she loved tea but that the caffeine kept her up, would have come in with a mug of the special decaffeinated blend they’d bought in England, with milk and honey in the mug the way Dru liked it.
She missed Helen, Dru realized. It was a weird feeling—somewhere along the way her resentment toward Helen had vanished. Now she just wished she’d said a better good-bye to her older sister before she’d left the Institute.
Maybe it was better that she hadn’t said the right kind of good-byes to her family. Maybe it meant she was definitely going to see them again.
Maybe it meant they’d be more forgiving when they found out what she was planning to do.
The light blinked out in the hall; Maryse must be going to sleep. Dru threw off her blanket; she was fully dressed underneath, down to her boots and gear jacket. She slid out of bed and went over to the circular window; it was stuck shut, but she’d been expecting that. Taking a small dagger with an adamas blade out of her pocket, she started to jimmy it open.
* * *
Kit lay awake in the darkness, counting the stars he could see through the open flap of the tent.
Emma and Julian had said the stars in Faerie were different, but here in Idris they were the same. The same constellations he had looked at all his life, peeking through the smog above Los Angeles, shone above Brocelind Forest. The air was clear here, clear as cut crystal, and the stars seemed almost alarmingly close, as if he could reach out and catch one in his hand.
Ty hadn’t come back with him from the campfire. Kit didn’t know where he was. Had he gone to talk to Jules or Helen? Was he wandering in the forest? No, Simon and Isabelle would have stopped him. But maybe Ty had found an animal he liked in the campsite. Kit’s mind started to race. Where is he? Why didn’t he take me with him? What if he can’t tame these squirrels the way he can the ones at home? What if he’s attacked by squirrels?
With a groan, Kit kicked off his covers and reached for a jacket.
Ty stuck his head into the tent, momentarily blotting out the stars. “Oh good, you’re already getting ready.”
Kit lowered his voice. “What do you mean, I’m getting ready? Ready for what?”
Ty dropped into a crouch and peered into the tent. “To go to the lake.”
“Ty,” said Kit. “I need you to explain. Don’t assume I know what you’re talking about.”
Ty exhaled with enough force to make his dark fringe of hair flutter above his forehead. “I brought the spell with me, and all the ingredients,” he said. “The best place to raise the dead is by water. I thought we’d do it next to the ocean, but Lake Lyn’s even better. It’s already a magic place.”
Kit blinked dizzily; he felt as if he’d woken up from a nightmare only to discover he was still dreaming. “But we don’t have what we need to make the spell work. Shade never gave us the catalyst.”
“I thought he might not do it,” said Ty. “That’s why I picked up an alternate energy source last time we were at the Shadow Market.” He reached into his pocket and took out a clear glass ball the size of an apricot. Red-orange flame blazed inside it as if it were a small, fiery planet, though it was clearly cool to the touch.
Kit jerked back. “Where did that come from?”
“I told you—the Shadow Market.”
Kit felt a wave of panic. “Who sold it to you? How do we even know it’ll work?”
