GHOSTSOFTHESHADOWMARKET

BOOK5

A

DEEPER

LOVE

by

CASSANDRACLAREand

MAUREENJOHNSON

ShadowMarketEnterprises,Inc.Amherst,MA·LosAngeles,CA

GhostsoftheShadowMarket1.

SonoftheDawnbyCassandraClareandSarahReesBrennan

2.CastLongShadows

byCassandraClareandSarahReesBrennan3.

EveryExquisiteThingbyCassandraClareandMaureenJohnson

4.LearnAboutLoss

byCassandraClareandKellyLink5.

ADeeperLovebyCassandraClareandMaureenJohnson

6.TheWickedOnes

byCassandraClareandRobinWasserman7.

TheLandILostbyCassandraClareandSarahReesBrennan

8.ThroughBlood,ThroughFire

byCassandraClareandRobinWasserman

TheShadowhunterChroniclesTheMortalInstruments

CityofBonesCityofAshesCityofGlassCityofFallenAngelsCityofLostSoulsCityofHeavenlyFire

TheInfernalDevices

ClockworkAngelClockworkPrinceClockworkPrincessTheDarkArtificesLadyMidnightLordofShadowsQueenofAirandDarkness(forthcoming)

TheEldestCurses(withWesleyChu;forthcoming)

TheRedScrollsofMagicTheLostBookoftheWhiteTheEldestCurses3

TheLastHours(forthcoming)

ChainofGoldChainofIronTheLastHours3

TheShadowhunter’sCodex(withJoshuaLewis)TheBaneChronicles(withSarahReesBrennan&MaureenJohnson)TalesFromtheShadowhunterAcademy(withSarahReesBrennan,Maureen

Johnson&RobinWasserman)AHistoryofNotableShadowhuntersandDenizensofDownworld(illustratedbyCassandraJean)

AlsobyCassandraClareTheMagisteriumSeries(writtenwithHollyBlack)

TheIronTrialTheCopperGauntletTheBronzeKeyTheSilverMaskTheGoldenTower(forthcoming)

Thisisaworkoffiction.Allcharactersandeventsportrayedinthisbookareeitherfictitiousorusedfictitiously.

“ADeeperLove”copyright©2018byCassandraClaire,LLC.Allrightsreserved.Coverandseriesillustration©2018byDavoodDiba.Allrightsreserved.

ShadowMarketEnterprises,Inc.11400W.OlympicBoulevard,Suite590LosAngeles,CA90064cassandraclare.com

AudioeditionavailablefromSimon&SchusterAudio.

Firstedition

ISBN978-0-9995705-4-8LibraryofCongressControlNumber:2018907272

SetinDollyPro.TitlessetinPterra.

ADeeperLove

December29,1940

“I think first,” Catarina said, “lemon cake. Oh, lemons. I think I miss themmost.”

CatarinaLossandTessaGraywerewalkingdownLudgateHill,justpassingtheOldBailey.Thiswasagametheysometimesplayed—whatwillyoueatfirstwhenthiswarisover?Ofalltheterriblethingsthatweregoingon,sometimesthemostordinaryranthedeepest.Foodwasrationed,andtherationsweresmall—anounceofcheese,fourthinpiecesofbacon,andoneeggaweek.Everythingcameintinyamounts.Somethingssimplywentaway,likelemons.Therewereorangessometimes—Tessasawthematthefruitandvegmarket—buttheywereonlyforchildren,whocouldhaveoneeach.Thenurseswerefedatthehospital,buttheportionswerealwaystiny,andneverenoughtokeepupwithalltheworktheyperformed.Tessawasluckytohavethestrengthshedid.Itwasnotallthephysical strength of a Shadowhunter, but some trace of angelic endurancelingeredwithinherandsustainedher;shehadnoideahowthemundanenurseskeptup.

“Orabanana,”Catarinasaid.“Ineverlikedthemmuchbefore,butnowthattheyaregone,Ifindmyselfcravingthem.That’salwaystheway,isn’tit?”

Catarina Loss did not care about food. She barely ate at all. But she wasmakingconversationastheywalkeddownthestreet.Thisiswhatyoudid—youpretendedlifewasnormal,evenasdeathrainedfromabove.ItwastheLondonspirit.Youkept to your routines asmuch as you could, even if you slept in aTube station at night for shelter, or you returned home to find the neighbor’shouseoryourswasnolongerthere.Businessestriedtostayopen,evenifalltheglassblewoutofthewindowsorabombwentthroughtheroof.Somewouldputoutsignsthatsaid,“Moreopenthanusual.”

Youcarriedon.Youtalkedaboutbananasandlemons.AtthispointinDecember,Londonwasatitsdarkest.Thesunwentdownjust

afterthreeintheafternoon.Becauseoftheairraids,Londonwasunderblackout

orders every night. Blackout curtains blocked light from every window.Streetlampswereturnedoff.Carsdimmedtheirlights.Peoplewalkedthestreetscarrying their flashlights tofind theirwaythroughthevelvetydarkness.AllofLondonwas shade and corner and nook, every alley blind, everywall a darkblank.Itmadethecitymysteriousandmournful.

ToTessa,itfeltlikeLondonitselfgrievedforherWill,felthisloss,turnedouteverylight.

TessaGrayhadnotparticularlyenjoyedChristmasthisyear.Itwasdifficulttoenjoy things with the Germans raining bombs overhead whenever the whimsuitedthem.TheBlitz,asitwascalled,wasdesignedtobringterrortoLondon,toforcethecitytoitsknees.Thereweredeadlybombsthatcouldcrushahome,leavingapileofsmokingrubblewherechildrenoncesleptandfamilieslaughedtogether.Inthemornings,youwouldseewallsmissingandtheinnerworkingsofhouses, exposed like adoll’shouse, scrapsof cloth flappingagainstbrokenbrick, toys and books scattered in piles of rubble.More than once she saw abathtubhangingoffthesideofwhatremainedofahouse.Extraordinarythingswould happen, like the house where the chimney fell, smashing through thekitchentablewhereafamilyate,shatteringitbutharmingnoone.Buseswouldbeupturned.Rubblewouldfall,instantlykillingonefamilymember,leavingtheotherstunnedandunscathed.Itwasamatterofchance,ofinches.

Therewasnothingworsethanbeingleftalone,theoneyoulovedrippedfromyou.

“Didyouhaveagoodvisitthisafternoon?”Catarinaasked.“The younger generation are still trying to talk me into leaving,” Tessa

replied,steppingaroundaholeinthepavementwherepartofithadbeenblownaway.“TheythinkIshouldgotoNewYork.”

“They’re your children,” Catarina said gently. “They want what’s best foryou.Theydon’tunderstand.”

WhenWilldied,TessahadknowntherecouldbenoplaceforheramongtheShadowhunters.Foratimeithadseemedasiftherewasnoplaceforherinalltheworld,withsomuchofherheartinthecoldground.ThenMagnusBanehadtakenTessaintohishomewhenshewasalmostmadwithgrief,andwhenTessaslowlyemerged,Magnus’sfriendsCatarinaLossandRagnorFellencircledher.

No one understood the pain of being immortal save another immortal. Shecouldonlybegratefultheyhadtakenherin.

It was Catarina who introduced Tessa to nursing when the war broke out.Catarinahadalwaysbeenahealer:ofNephilim,ofDownworlders,ofhumans.

Wherevershewasneeded,shewent.ShehadnursedinthelastGreatWar,onlytwentyyearsbefore,thewarthatwasneversupposedtohappenagain.Thetwoof them had taken a small flat off of Farrington Street, close to the LondonInstituteandtoSt.Bart’sHospital.Itwasnotasluxuriousasherprevioushomes—justasmall,second-storywalk-upwithasharedbathinthehall.Itwaseasierthisway, andcozier.TessaandCatarina sharedone smallbedroom,hangingasheetdownthemiddleforprivacy.Theyoftenworkedatnightandsleptduringtheday.At least the raidswereonlyatnightnow—nomore sirensandplanesandbombsandanti-aircraftgunsatnoon.

The war had caused increased demonic activity—as all wars did, demonstaking advantage of chaos caused by battle—whichwas almost overwhelmingtheShadowhunters.Thoughitwasaterriblethoughttohave,Tessaregardedthewarasakindofpersonalblessing.Here,shecouldbeuseful.Oneofthegoodthings about being a nurse was that there was always something that neededdoing.Always.Constantactivitykeptgriefatbaybecausetherewasnotimetothink.Going toNewYork, sitting in safety,wouldbehellish.Therewouldbenothingtodobutthinkaboutherfamily.Shedidnotknowhowtodothis,howtogoonagelesslyasherdescendantsgrewolderthanher.

ShelookedupatthegreatdomeofSt.Paul’sCathedral,lordingoverthecityexactly as it had done for hundreds of years. How did it feel, seeing its citybelow,itssprawlingchild,blowntopieces?

“Tessa?”Catarinasaid.“I’mfine,”Tessareplied,quickeningherstep.At that moment, a scream broke out all over the city—the air-raid siren.

Momentslatercamethehummingnoise.Itsoundedliketheapproachofanarmyofangrybees.TheLuftwaffewasoverhead.Thebombswouldbefallingsoon.

“Ithoughtwemightbesparedforafewmoredays,”Catarinasaidgrimly.“Itwassonicetoonlyhavetwoairraidsthisweek.IsupposeeventheLuftwaffewantstocelebratetheholiday.”

The two quickened their steps. Then it came—that uncanny sound. As thebombs fell, theywhistled.Tessa andCatarina stopped.Thewhistlingwas justabove them, all around.Thewhistlingwasnot theproblem—theproblemwaswhen it stopped. The silencemeant the bombswere less than a hundred feetoverhead.That’swhenyouwaited.Wereyougoingtobenext?Wherecouldyougowhendeathwassilentandcamefromthesky?

There was a clanking and a hissing sound up ahead, and the street wassuddenlyilluminatedwithspitting,phosphorescentlight.

“Incendiaries,”Catarinasaid.TessaandCatarinarushedforward.Theincendiarybombswerecanistersthat

lookedharmlessenoughupclose,similartoalongthermalflask.Whentheyhitthe ground, they spread fire. They were being scattered all up and down thestreetby theplanes,highlighting the roadand spitting flamesat thebuildings.Thefirewardensbeganrunningfromalldirections,dampeningtheincendiariesasquicklyaspossible.Catarinabentdowntoone.Tessasawablueflash;thenthebombextinguished.Tessaranuptoanotherandstampedatthesparksuntilafirewardenpouredabucketofwaterover it.Butnowtherewerehundredsallovertheroad.

“Mustgeton,”Catarinasaid.“Itlookstobealongonetonight.”Passing Londoners tipped their hats. They saw what Tessa and Catarina

wantedthemtosee—justtwobraveyoungnursesheadedtothehospital,nottwoimmortalbeingstryingtostemanendlesstideofsuffering.

OntheothersideoftheThames,afigurewasmakingitswaythroughthedarkbeneath theviaduct, pastwhere thenormally flourishingBoroughMarketwasheldbyday.Usually,thisplacewasheavingwithactivityandscrapsoftheday’smarket.Tonight,everythingwasmutedandtherewasbarelyanythingremainingontheground.Everyoldcabbageandbruisedpieceoffruithadbeenpluckedupbyhungrypeople.Theblackoutcurtains,lackofstreetlight,andtheabsenceofmundanesonthestreetsmadethiscornerofLondonforeboding.Butthecloakedfigurewalkedwithout hesitation, even as the air-raid siren ripped through thenight.Hisdestinationwasjustaroundthecorner.

Evenwiththewar, theShadowMarketwenton, thoughitwasfragmentary.Like the mundanes with their ration cards, their limited supplies of food, ofclothing,andevenofbathwater,thingsherewereinshortsupply.Theold-bookstallshadbeenpickedthrough.Insteadofhundredsofpotionsandpowders,onlyadozenorsograced thevendors’ tables.Thesparkleand the firewasnothingcompared to the flames that raged on the opposite bank, or themachines thatdroppeddeathfromthesky,sothereseemedlittlepointinputtingonlightshows.The children still ran about—the young werewolves, the street children andorphans who had been Turned in the dark corners of the blackout and nowroamed, seeking nourishment and parental guidance.A small vampire,Turnedfartooyoung,trailedalongsideBrotherZachariah,pullingonhiscloakforfun.Zachariah did not disturb him. The child looked lonely and dirty, and if it

pleasedhimtotrailaSilentBrother,thenZachariahwouldallowit.“Whatareyou?”saidthelittleboy.AkindofShadowhunter,BrotherZachariahreplied.“Didyoucometokillus?Iheardat’swhattheydo.”No.Thatisnotwhatwedo.Whereisyourfamily?“Gone,”thelittleboysaid.“Abombdroppedonus,andmymastercameand

gotme.”It had been all too easy to pluck these little ones out of thewreckage of a

home,takethembythehandtosomepitch-blackalley,andTurnthem.Demonactivity,too,wasatanall-timehigh.Afterall,whocouldtellwhetherthattornlimbwasfromsomeonekilledbyabomborsomeonerippedapartbyademon?Diditmakeadifference?Mundaneshadtheirowndemonicways.

A crowd of other vampire children ran past, and the little boy ran offwiththem.Theskyroared,thickwiththesoundofplanes.BrotherZachariahlistenedto the noise of the bombingwith amusician’s ear. The bombswhistledwhentheydropped,but therewasthatstrangepunctuatingsilenceas theynearedtheearth. Silences inmusicwere as important as sound. In this case, the silencestoldsomuchofthestorytocome.Tonight,thebombswerefallingontheothersideoftheriverlikerain—athunderingsymphonywithtoomanynotes.Thosebombswouldbe fallingnear the Institute,nearSt.Bart’shospitalwhereTessaworked.FearforherranthroughZachariah,coldastherivercuttingacrossthecity.IntheseemptydayssinceWill’sdeath,emotionwasararevisitorforhim,butwhenitcametoTessa,feelingalwaysbloomed.

“Bad one tonight,” said a faerie woman with silver, scaled skin who soldenchanted toy toads.Theyleaptaboutonher table,protrudinggolden tongues.“Likeatoad?”

Shepointedatoneofthetoytoads.Itturnedblue,thenred,thengreen,thenflippedonitsbackandspun,beforeturningintoastone.Thenitburstforthintotoadformagainandthecyclecontinued.No,thankyou,Zachariahsaid.Heturnedtokeepmoving,butthewomanspokeagain.“He’swaitingforyou,”shesaid.Whoishe?“Theoneyouhavecometomeet.”Formonthsnow,hehadbeenslowlytrailingaseriesofcontactsthroughthe

faerieworld,tryingtofindoutaboutthelostHerondaleshehadlearnedofattheShadowMarketandcarnivalinTennessee.Hehadnotcomespecificallytomeet

anyonetonight—hehadanumberofcontactswhoprovidedinformationastheycamebyit.Butsomeonehadcometomeethim.Thankyou,hesaidpolitely.WhereamItogo?“TheKing’sHeadYard,”shesaid,smilingwidely.Herteethweresmalland

pointed.Brother Zachariah nodded. The King’s Head Yard was a nearby alley—a

horseshoe-shapedoffshootofBoroughHighStreet. Itwasaccessed throughanarchbetween thebuildings.Asheapproached it,heheard thesoundofplanesoverhead,thenthewhistlingofapayloadbeingdropped.

Nothingtodobutkeepgoing.Zachariahcrossedunderthearchwaypartway,thenstopped.Iamhere,hesaidtothedarkness.“Shadowhunter,”avoicesaid.Fromthebendat theendof theyard,afigureemerged.Itwasafaerie,and

clearlyoneoftheCourt.Hewasextremelytall,almosthumaninappearancebutforhiswings,whichwerebrownandwhiteandspreadwide,almosttouchingtheoppositewalls.Iunderstandyouwishtospeaktome,BrotherZachariahsaidpolitely.Thefaeriesteppedcloser,andZachariahcouldseeacoppermaskintheform

ofahawkcoveringthetophalfofhisface.“Youhavebeeninterfering,”thefaeriesaid.In what, precisely? Zachariah inquired. He did not move back, but he

tightenedhisgriponhisstaff.“Thingsthatdonotconcernyou.”IhavebeenmakinginquiriesaboutalostShadowhunterfamily.Thatisvery

muchsomethingthatconcernsme.“Youcometomybrethren.Youaskthefey.”Thiswas true.Sincehis encounterwithBelial at thecarnival inTennessee,

BrotherZachariahhadbeenpursuingmany leads inFaerie.Hehad seen, afterall,aHerondaledescendantwithafaeriewifeandchild.Theyhadfledassoonas he recognized them, but it had not been him they feared.Whatever dangerthreatenedthelostHerondale,ZachariahhadlearneditcamefromFaerie.

“Whatisityouknow?”thefaerieasked,steppingforward.Iwouldadviseyounottocomecloser.“Youhaveno ideaof thedangerofwhatyouseek.This isFaeriebusiness.

Ceaseyourmeddlinginthatwhichaffectsourlandsandourlandsalone.”Irepeat,Zachariahsaidcalmly,thoughhisgriponthestaffwasfirmnow,I

askofShadowhunters.Thatisverymuchmybusiness.“Thenyoudosoatyourperil.”Abladeflashed in thefaerie’shand.HeswungatZachariah,whomovedat

once,rollingtothegroundandcomingupnexttothefaerie,strikinghisarmandknockingtheswordfree.

The whistling of the bombs had stopped. That meant they were rightoverhead.

Then,theyfell.Threeofthemclankeddownonthestonesattheopeningofthearchwayandbeganspittingtheirphosphorescentflames.Thisdistractedthefaerieforjustamoment,andZachariahtooktheopportunitytodasharoundtothe other side of the horseshoe and out the other side. He had no desire tocontinue this fight, tocauseproblemsbetween theSilentBrothersand the fey.Zachariah had no idea why the faerie had become so violent. Hopefully hewouldsimplyreturnfromwhencehecame.ZachariahslippedontotheBoroughHigh Street, dodging the falling cylinders. But he had barely begun his flightwhenthefaeriewasbehindhim.Zachariahspun,hisstaffready.Ihavenoquarrelwithyou.Letusgoourseparateways.Belowthehawkmask,thefaerie’steethweregritted.Heslicedoutwithhis

sword, ripping the air in front of Brother Zachariah, slashing his cloak.Zachariahleaptandspun,hisstaffwheelingthroughtheairtoslamagainstthesword. As they fought, the canisters landed closer and closer, coughing fire.Neitherflinched.

BrotherZachariahtookcarenottoinjurethefaerie,onlytoblocktheattack.Hispurposemustremainsecret,butthefaeriewascomingwithincreasingforce.He slashed upward with his sword, meaning to cut Zachariah’s throat—andZachariahsmasheditfromhishands,sendingitflyingacrosstheroad.Letusfinishwiththis.Callitafairfightended.Walkaway.Thefaeriewasoutofbreath.Bloodtrickledfromawoundathistemple.“Asyouwish,”hesaid.“Buttakemywarning.”He turned togo.BrotherZachariah loosenedhisgriponhis staff for just a

moment.Thefaerieturnedback,ashortbladeinhishand,aimedatZachariah’sheart.With thespeedof theSilentBrothershewhirledaway,buthecouldnotmovefastenough.Thebladesunkdeepintohisshoulderandcameouttheotherside.The pain. The wound immediately began to hiss as if acid was dissolving

Zachariah’sflesh.Painandnumbnessrandownhisarm,causinghimtodrophisstaff.Hestaggeredback,andthefaerieretrievedhisswordandadvancedtoward

him.“You have interferedwith the fey for the last time,Grigori,” he said. “Our

peopleareourpeople,andourenemies,ourenemies.Theywillneverbeyours!”Theincendiarieslandedaroundthemnow,clankingloudlyagainstpavement

and cobblestone, flashing light and licking flames at the buildings. Zachariahtriedtogetaway,buthisstrengthwasfading.Hecouldnotrun—hecouldonlystaggerdrunkenly.Thiswasnonormalwound.Therewaspoison floodinghisbody.Thefaeriewascomingathim,andhewouldnotgetaway.No.NotwithoutseeingTessaonemoretime.Helookeddownandsawoneoftheincendiariesthathadfallenfromthesky.

Thisonehadnotdetonated.BrotherZachariahused the lastofhisstrength tospinaround,swingingout

withthecanister.Smallbombswerestillfalling.Severalmoredroppednearby.The canister flew through the air and struck the faerie in the chest. It crackedapart,andthefaerieshriekedastheironinsidewasreleased.Zachariahfelltohiskneesastheironflameburned.

Thehospitalwasrumbling.AtSt.Bart’s, theupper floorsof thehospitalwereconsidered toounsafe to

use.Theactivitywasallonthelowerlevelandinthebasement,wheredoctorsand nurses ran to attend the injured and sick. The fire wardens were beingbroughtin,theirskincoveredinsoot,gaspingforair.Therewereinjuriesfromthe attacks—the burns, the crushings, the people cut through with explodingglass or struck by debris. Plus, all the normal business of Londonwent on—people still had babies and became ill and had normal accidents. But thewarmultipliedincidents.Peoplefellorcrashedinthedark.Therewereheartattacksasbombscamedown.Thereweresomanypeoplewhoneededhelp.

From themoment theyarrived,CatarinaandTessa ran fromoneendof thehospital to theother, tending to the injuredas theycame in, fetching supplies,carrying bloodied bowls of water, wrapping and removing bandages. Being aShadowhunter,Tessacouldeasilycopewithsomeof thegrislieraspectsof thejob,likethefactthatnomatterhowhardyoutriedtokeepyourapronclean,youwouldbecoveredinbloodandgrimewithinminutes.Noamountofwashinggotitout.Nosoonerwouldyouscrub itoffyourarms thananotherpatientwouldcomeinandyourskinwouldbecoveredagain.Throughitall,thenursesstrovetomaintainanairofcalmcompetence.Youmovedquickly,butnothastily.You

spokeloudlywhenyouneededassistance,butyouneverscreamed.Tessawasstationedby thedoor,directing theorderliesas theybrought ina

dozen newpatients.Theywere bringing in groups of firewardens now, somewalkingwounded,othersonstretchers.

“Over there,”Tessa said as theorderlies carried in burnvictims. “ToSisterLoss.”

“I’vegotoneaskingforyou,sister,”saidtheorderly,settingdownastretcherwithafigureonitwrappedtightinagrayblanket.

“Coming,” Tessa said. She hurried to the stretcher and bent down. Theblanketwaspulledpartwayovertheman’sface.

“You’reallright,”Tessasaid,pullingbacktheblanket.“You’reallrightnow.You’reathospital.You’rehereatSt.Bart’s…”

Ittookheramomenttorealizewhatshewasseeing.Themarksonhisskinwere not allwounds.And his face, though covered in soot and streakedwithblood,wasmorefamiliartoherthanherown.Tessa, Jem said, the echo deep inside her head like the memory of a bell

ringing.Thenhewentlimp.“Jem!”Itcouldn’tbe.Sheseizedathishand,hopingshewasdreaming—that

thewarhadaddledhersenseofrealitycompletely.Buttheslim,scarredhandinhers was familiar, even limp and without strength. This was Jem, her Jem,dressed in the bone-colored robes of a Silent Brother, the marks on his neckpulsingashisheartpumpedfuriously.Hisskinburnedunderhertouch.

“He’sinabadway,”theorderlysaid.“I’llfetchthedoctor.”“No,”Tessasaidquickly.“Leavehimwithme.”Jemwasglamoured,buthecouldnotbeexamined.Nomundanedoctorcould

doanythingabouthisinjuries,andtheywouldbeshockedathisrunes,hisscars,evenhisblood.

She tore away the parchment robes. It took her only amoment to find thesourceofthetrauma—amassivewoundinhisshoulderthatwentcleanthrough.Thewoundwasblackwithasilveryedge,andhistunicwassaturatedwithbloodall thewaydowntohiswaist.Tessascannedthehallway.Thereweresomanypeople,shecouldnotimmediatelyseeCatarina.Shecouldnotscream.

“Jem,”shesaidintohisear.“Iamhere.Iamgettinghelp.”Shestoodup,ascalmlyasshecould,andhastilymadeherwaythroughthe

chaos of the hall, her heart beating so fast she felt like itmight come up herthroatandthroughhermouth.ShefoundCatarinaworkingontheburnedman,

herhandsonhiswounds.OnlyTessacouldseethesnow-whiteglowemanatingfromundertheblanketassheworked.

“SisterLoss,”shesaid,tryingtocontrolhervoice.“Ineedyouatonce.”“Justamoment,”Catarinasaid.“Itcannotwait.”Catarinalookedoverhershoulder.Thentheglowstopped.“Youshouldfeel

betterinamoment,”shesaidtotheman.“Oneoftheothersisterswillbeoververysoon.”

“Ifeelbetteralready,”themansaid,feelinghisarminwonder.TessahurriedCatarinabacktoJem.Catarina,seeingTessa’stautexpression,

askednoquestions;sheonlybentdownandpeeledtheblanketback.She looked up at Tessa. “A Shadowhunter?” Catarina said in a low voice.

“Here?”“Quickly,”Tessasaid.“Helpmemovehim.”Tessa took the end of the stretcher and Catarina the other side, and they

movedJemdownthehallway.Therewasanotherexplosion,closer.Thebuildingpulsedfromthe impact.The lightsswungandwentoutforamoment,causingcries of alarm and confusion. Tessa froze in place, assuring herself that theceilingwasn’tabouttocomedownandburythemall.Afteramoment,thelightscamebackon,andmovementcontinued.

“Comeon,”Tessasaid.Therewasasmallroomattheendofthehallthatwasusedforthenurses’tea

breaksandnaps,orwhentheycouldnotreturnhomebecauseofbombings.Theyset Jem’s stretcher gently on the empty cot on the side of the room. Jemwaslyingquietly,hisfeaturesstill,hisbreathingjagged.Thecolorwasdrainingfromhisskin.

“Holdthelight,”Catarinasaid.“Ineedtoexaminethis.”Tessapulledawitchlightfromherpocket.Itwassaferandmorereliable,but

shecouldonlyuseitinprivate.Catarinagrabbedapairofshearsandcutawaytheclotharoundthetunictoexposethewound.TheveinsonJem’schestandhisarmhadturnedblack.

“Whatisthat?”Tessasaid,hervoiceshaking.“Itlooksverybad.”“Ihaven’tseenthisinalongtime,”Catarinasaid.“Ithinkit’sacataplasm.”“Whatisthat?”“Nothinggood,”Catarinasaid.“Bepatient.”Shemustbemad,Tessathought.Bepatient?Howcouldshebepatient?This

wasJem,notsomenamelesspatientunderagrayblanket.

But every nameless patientwas precious to someone. She forced herself tobreathemoredeeply.

“Takehishand,”Catarinasaid.“Itwillworkbetterifyoudoit.Thinkofhim,whoheistoyou.Givehimyourstrength.”

Tessahadpracticedasmallamountofwarlockmagicbefore,thoughshewasnotadvanced.AsCatarinawatched,TessatookJem’sslenderhandinherown.Shecurledher fingersaroundhis,hisviolinist’s fingers, remembering thecarewithwhichhehadplayed.Thetimehehadcomposedforher.Hisvoiceechoedinherheart.People still use the expression “zhi yin” tomean “close friends” or “soul

mates,”butwhatitreallymeansis“understandingmusic.”WhenIplayed,yousawwhatIsaw.Youunderstandmymusic.

Tessa smelled burned sugar. She felt Jem’s lips hot against hers, the carpetunderneaththem,hisarmsholdingheragainsthisheart.Oh,myJem.

Hisbody surged against the stretcher, hisback arching.Hegasped, and thesoundsentashockthroughTessa.Jemhadbeensilentsolong.

“Canyouhearus?”Catarinaasked.I—can,camethehaltingreplyinTessa’smind.“YouneedtheSilentBrothers,”Catarinasaid.Icannotgotomybrotherswiththis.“Ifyoudonotgotothem,youwilldie,”Catarinasaid.ThewordshitTessalikeablow.ItisnotpossibleformetogototheBoneCitylikethis.Icameherehoping

youmightbeabletohelp.“Thisisnotimeforpride,”Catarinasaidsternly.Itisnotpride,Jemsaid.Tessaknewthiswasthetruth;hewastheleastproud

personshehadeverknown.“Jem!”Tessabegged.“Youmustgo!”Catarinastarted.“ThisisJamesCarstairs?”sheasked.Ofcourse,CatarinaknewthenameofWillHerondale’sparabatai,thoughshe

hadnevermethim.ShedidnotunderstandallthathadpassedbetweenTessaandJem.Shedidnotknow that theyhadbeenengaged tobemarried.ThatbeforetherewasaTessaandWill,therehadbeenaTessaandJem.TessadidnotspeakofthesethingsbecauseofWill,andthenbecauseoftheabsenceofWill.IhavecomeherebecauseitistheonlyplaceIcango,Jemsaid.Tospeakthe

truthtotheBrotherswouldbetoendangeranotherlifethanmine.Iwillnotdoit.

Tessa looked to Catarina in desperation. “Hemeans it,” she said. “Hewillneverseekhelpifitmeanssomeoneelsewillbehurt.Catarina—hecannotdie.Hecannotdie.”

Catarinainhaledsharplyandopenedthedooracracktopeerintothehall.“Wewill need to get himback to the flat,” she said. “I can’twork on him

here.Idon’thavewhatIneed.Getourcloaks.Wewillneedtomovequickly.”Tessa seized hold of Jem’s stretcher. She understood the complications

involved. They were nurses, in charge of many sick people who would bepouringinduringtheattack.Thecitywasbeingbombed.Itwasonfire.Gettinghomewasnotasimplematter.

Butitwaswhattheyweregoingtodo.

Thecitytheysteppedbackoutintowasnotthesameonethatithadbeenonlyanhourbefore.Theairwassohotthatbreathingburnedthelungs.Ahighwalloforangejumpedoutofthebuildingsaroundthem,andthesilhouetteofSt.Paul’sstoodoutinintenserelief.Thescenewasatonceterrifyingandalmostbeautiful,likeadreamimagefromBlake,apoethersonJameshadalwaysloved.Onwhatwingsdareheaspire?Whatthehanddareseizethefire?

ButtherewasnotimetothinkofthingslikeLondonburning.Thereweretwoambulances right outside on the street. Next to one, a driver was having acigaretteandtalkingtoafirewarden.

“Charlie!”Catarinacalled.Themantossedhiscigaretteasideandcamerunningover.“Weneedyourhelp,”shesaid.“Thismanhasaninfection.Wecan’tkeephim

inthewardhere.”“YouneedmetotakehimtoSt.Thomas’s,sister?Thegoingwillberough.

We’vegotfiresinalmosteverystreet.”“Wecan’tmakeit thatfar,”Catarinasaid.“We’vegottomovehimquickly.

OurflatisjustonFarringtonStreet.Thatwillhavetodofornow.”“Allright,sister.Let’sgethimintheambulance.”HeopenedthebackandassistedthemingettingJeminside.“I’llbebackinonemoment,”Catarinasaidtothem.“Ijustneedtogetafew

supplies.”Shedashedbackintothehospital.TessaclimbedintothebackwithJem,and

Charliegotintothedriver’sseat.“Don’tusuallytakepatients tonurses’sflats,”Charliesaid,“butneedsmust

whenthedevildrives.SisterLossalwayslooksafterthem.WhenmyMabelwashavingoursecond,shehadaterriblespell.Ithoughtwewasgoingtolosethemboth.SisterLoss,blessher.Shesavedthemboth.Iwouldn’thaveMabelormyEddiewithoutthem.Whateversheneeds.”

Tessa had heardmany stories like this. Catarinawas both awarlock and amundanenursewithoverahundredyearsofexperience.Shehadnursedinthelastgreatwar.Oldsoldierswerealwayscomingup toherandsayinghowshewas “the spitting image of that nursewho savedme in the last one.” But, ofcourse, she couldn’t be. Thatwas twenty years ago, andCatarinawas still soyoung.Catarinastoodouttothembecauseofherdarkskin.Theydidnotseeabluewomanwithwhitehair—theysawanurse fromtheWest Indies.Shehadfacedconsiderableprejudice,butitwasclearthatnotonlywasCatarinaagoodnurse,shewas thebest nurse inallofLondon.AnyonewhogotCatarinaasanursewasconsideredlucky.Eventhemostmiserablebigotdesiredtolive,andCatarinanursedallwhocametoherwithequanimity.Shecouldnotsavethemall, but therewere always a few, at least one a day, who survived somethingunsurvivablebecauseSisterLosswastheoneattheirside.SomecalledhertheAngelofSt.Bart’s.

Jemstirredandgroanedlightly.“Don’tyouworry,mate,”Charliecalledbacktohim.“Bestnursesinthecity,

thislot.Youcouldn’tbeinsaferhands.”Jemtriedtosmile—butinsteadhecoughed,abad,burblingcoughthatcame

witha trickleofbloodfromthesideofhismouth.Tessa immediatelywipeditawaywiththeedgeofhercloakandleanedclosetohim.

“Youholdon,JamesCarstairs,”shesaid,tryingtosoundbrave.Shegrippedhishandinhers.ShehadforgottenhowwonderfulitwastoholdJem’shand—hislong,gracefulhands,theonesthatcouldproducesuchbeautifulmusicfromtheviolin.

“Jem,”shewhispered,leaninglow,“youmustholdon.Youmust.Willneedsyouto.Ineedyouto.”

Jem’shandtightenedonhers.Catarinacame runningoutof thehospital carryinga small canvasbag.She

leapt into the back of the ambulance, slamming the doors behind her andsnappingTessaback.

“Go,Charlie,”shesaid.Charlieshiftedtheambulanceintogear,andtheystartedforward.Overhead,

thedroneoftheLuftwaffewasback,likethehumofanarmyofbees.Catarina

immediatelyscootednexttoJemandpassedTessaabandagetounwind.The ambulance juddered, and Jemwas jolted on his stretcher. Tessa tented

herselfoverhimtokeephiminplace.“Catarina,”Tessasaid,“whatisthis?What’shappenedtohim?”“Itlookstomelikeacataplasm,”Catarinasaidquietly.“It’sararebelladonna

concentratewithdemonpoisonaddedin.UntilIcangettheantidoteweneedtotrytokeepitfromspreadinginhisbloodstream,oratleastslowitdown.We’regoingtotiesometourniquets,startcuttingoffbloodflow.”

This sounded incredibly dangerous. By tying off the limbs, they could beriskingtheirloss.ButCatarinaknewwhatshewasdoing.

“Thiswillnotbecomfortable,”Catarina said,unwindingabandage, “but itwillhelp.Holdhim.”

Tessa pressed her body down on Jem a bit more as Catarina looped thebandagearoundtheinjuredarmandshoulder.Shemadeaknot,thengrabbedtheendsofthebandagesandpulledtight.JemarchedagainstTessa’schest.

“You’reallright,Jem,”shesaid.“You’reallright.We’rehere.I’mhere.It’sme.Tessa.It’sme.”Tessa, he said. Theword came out like a question.Hewrithed asCatarina

woundthebandagetightlyaroundtheshoulderandarm.Amundanewouldnothavebeenabletowithstandit;Jemwasbarelyableto.Sweatbrokeoutalloverhisface.

“It’sgoingtoberoughgoing,sisters,”Charliecalledback.“They’retryingtoburndownSt.Paul’s,thebastards.I’mgoingtohavetogoaroundthelongway.It’sfireseverywhere.”

Charlie did not exaggerate. In front of them was a view of solid orangeagainsttheblacksilhouettesofburningbuildings.Thefiresweresohighthatitwas like there was a sun rising up out of the earth, dragging day out of theground.Astheydroveon,itwasliketheywerepressingintoasolidwallofheat.Thewindhadquickened,andnowfirewasmeetingfire,creatingwallsinsteadof pockets. The air shimmered and cooked. Several times they turned downstreetsthatnolongerseemedtobethereanymore.

“It’snogoodthiswayeither,”Charliesaid,turningtheambulanceagain.“I’llhavetotryanotherway.”

Thencame thesharpwhistling in theair.This time, thepitchwasdifferent.Thesewerenottheincendiarybombs—thesewerethelargeexplosives.Afterthefires,theideawastokill.Charliestoppedtheambulanceandcranedhisheadtolookuptoseewherethebombwaslikelytoland.Theyallfroze,listeningtothe

whistlegoquiet.Thesilencemeantthebombwaslessthanahundredfeetaboveyouandcomingfast.

Itwasalongmoment.Thenitcame.Theimpactwasattheotherendofthestreet,sendingtheshockwavedowntheroadandasprayofrubbleintotheair.Charliestartedonagain.

“Bastards,” he said under his breath. “Bloody bastards.You all right there,sisters?”

“We’refine,”Catarinasaid.ShehadbothhandsonJem’sshoulder,andtherewasalowblueglowaroundthebandages.Shewasholdingitback,whateveritwasthatwasgoingthroughJem’sbody.

Theyhadjustmadeanotherturnwhentherewasanotherwhistleandanothersilence.Theystoppedagain.Theimpactwastotheirrightthistime,downatthecorner.Theambulancerockedasthecornerofabuildingwasblownaway.Thegroundshook.Charlieturnedtheambulanceawayfromit.

“Notgoingtogetthroughthisway,”hesaid.“I’lltrydownShoeLane.”Theambulanceturnedoncemore.Onthestretcher,Jemhadstoppedmoving.

Tessacouldnot tell if thepulsingheatwascomingfromtheairor fromJem’sbody.Therewasfireonbothsidesofthestreethere,butthepathlookedalmostclear to get through.Therewere two firewardens in the road, shootingwaterintoaburningwarehouse.Suddenlytherewasacreakingsound.Thefirebegantoarcovertheroad.

“Blimey,”Charliesaid.“Hangontight,sisters.”Theambulancegroundintoreverseandstartedspeedingbackwardsdownthe

alley.Tessaheardacracklingnoise—uncanny,almostmerry—agreat tinkling.Then,allatonce,thebricksofthebuildingexplodedandthebuildingtumbleddownintoamassoffireandrubble,theflamesblowingupinamightyroar.Themenwiththehosevanished.

“Godalmighty,”Charlie said, grinding the ambulance to ahalt.He jumpedout of the driver’s seat and started running for the men, two of whom werestumblingoutoftheflames.Catarinalookedupandoutthewindscreen.

“Thosemen,”shesaid.“Thebuilding’scomedownonthem.”Youmusthelpthem,Jemsaid.CatarinalookedbetweenJemandTessaforamoment.Tessafeltherselffull

ofanunbearableanxiety.ShehadtogetJemtosafety,andyet,infrontofthem,menwerebeingconsumedinflame.

“Iwillbequick,”Catarinasaid,andTessanodded.Aloneintheambulance,TessalookeddownatJem.

Iftheyneedyou,thenyoumustgo,Jemsaid.“They needCatarina,”Tessa said. “Youneedme, and I need you. I do not

leaveyou.Nomatterwhathappens,Idonotleaveyou.”The ambulance was heating up like an oven, trapped as it was between

multiplefires.TherewasnowatertocoolJem’sbrow,soTessamoppeditandfanneditwithherhand.

Afteraminute,Catarinaopenedthebackoftheambulance.Shewascoveredinsootandwater.

“IhavedonewhatIcan,”shesaid.“Theywilllivenow,aslongastheyreachthehospital.Charliewillhavetotaketheambulance.”

Hereyesreflectedherpain.Yes,Jemsaid.Somehowhehadfoundenoughstrengthtoriseonhiselbows.

Youmust get them to safety. I am a Shadowhunter. I am stronger than thosemen.

Hehadalwaysbeenstrong.ItwasnotbecausehewasaShadowhunter.Itwasbecausehehadawillfierceasstarlight,burningindarknessandrefusingtobeputout.

Charlie brought the wounded fire wardens over, carrying one over hisshoulder.

“You’llbeallright,sisters?”hesaid.“Youcanridebackwithme?”“No,”Catarinasaid,climbinginsidetohelpTessagetJemtohisfeet.Tessa

placedherselfunderJem’swoundedshoulder.Hewincedfromthemovement.ItwasclearJemcouldn’treallywalkbuthaddecidedthathewoulddoitanyway.Hegothisbodyintoastandingpositionthroughsheerwill.Catarinahurriedtoprophimupononeside,andTessatooktheother,givingoverherfullstrengthtosupporthimcompletely.Itwasstrange,feelingJem’sbodyagainsthersaftersolong.Theygotoutofthelaneandbackontotheroad.Lovelynightforawalk,Jemsaid,clearlytryingtocheerher.Hewassweating

alloverandcouldnolongerholduphishead.Hislegshadgonelimp.Hewaslikeamarionettewiththestringsgoneslack.

ThepathCharlie haddrivenhad taken thempastwhere they lived, so theyhadtobacktrackdownthe lane.Thebuildingsallaroundwereonfireaswell,but the fire was still contained inside. Tessa was covered in sweat, and thetemperature was cooking them. The air was swollen with heat, and everymouthful of air scorched its way down her throat. It felt like when she firstlearnedtochangeherself:theexquisite,strangepain.

Thestreetwasnarrowingnowtothepointwheretheycouldbarelywalkthree

abreast. Catarina’s and Tessa’s sides scraped the hot walls. Jem’s feet nowdraggedalongtheground,nolongerabletotakeanysteps.WhentheyemergedontoFleetStreet,Tessagaspedintherelativelycoolair.Thesweatonherfacewaschilledforamoment.

“Come,”Catarinasaid,leadingthemtowardabench.“Let’sgethimdownforamoment.”

TheygingerlyrestedJemontheemptybench.Hisskinwasslickwithsweat.The wound had soaked through his tunic. Catarina pulled the shirt open toexpose his chest and cool him, and Tessa could see the runes of the SilentBrothersonhisskinandhisveinsthrobbinginhisthroat.

“Idon’tknowhowmuchfartherwecangethiminthisstate,”Catarinasaid.“Theeffortistoomuch.”

Onceonthebench,Jem’slimbsbegantojerkandtwitchasthepoisonmovedthrough his body once more. Catarina set to work on him again, putting herhands on the wound. Tessa scanned the road. She made out a large shadowcomingintheirdirection,withtwodimmedlightslikeheavilyliddedeyes.

Abus.Agreat,double-decker redLondonbuswasmaking itsway throughthenight,becausenothingstoppedtheLondonbuses,notevenawar.Theywerenot at a stop, but Tessa jumped into the road andwaved it down. The driveropenedthedoorandcalledout.

“Yousistersallright?”hesaid.“Yourfriend,’edoesn’tlooksogood.”“He’sinjured,”Catarinasaid.“Then you get yourselves inside, sisters,” the driver said, shutting the door

aftertheyhaddoneso,draggingJembetweenthem.“You’vegotLondon’sbestprivateambulanceatyourservice.DoyouwanttogotoSt.Bart’s?”

“We’vecomefromthere.It’sfull.We’retakinghimhometocareforhim,andweneedtogoquickly.”

“Thengivemetheaddress,andthat’swherewe’llgo.”Catarinashoutedtheiraddressoverthesoundofanother,slightlymoredistant

explosion,andtheygotJemovertoaseat.Itwasinstantlyclearthathewouldnotbeabletoholdhimselfsittingup,ashewastooexhaustedfromtheeffortoftryingtowalk.Theyrestedhimontheamplefloorofthebusandsatnexttohimoneitherside.Only in London, Jem said, smiling weakly, would a bus keep making its

roundsduringamassivebombing.“Keep calm and carry on,”Catarina said, feeling Jem’s pulse. “There now.

We’llbeattheflatinnotime.”

TessacouldtellfromthewayCatarinawasbecomingmoreandmorechipperintonethatthingsweregettingworsequickly.

Thebus couldnotgoat ahigh speed—itwas still aLondonbusonadarknight during an air raid—but it was going faster than any bus she had everencountered.Tessahadnoillusionsaboutthesafetyofthebus.Shehadseenoneoftheseflippedovercompletelyafterahit,lyingintheroadlikeanelephantonits back. But they were moving, and Jem was resting on the floor, his eyesclosed. Tessa looked at the advertisements on the walls—happy images ofpeopleusingBistogravynexttoposterstellingpeopletogettheirchildrenoutofLondonforsafety.

Londonwouldnotgiveup,andneitherwouldTessa.

Theyhadanotherpieceofgoodluckbackattheflat.TessaandCatarinalivedinthe upstairs of a small house. Their neighbors, it seemed, had gone to theshelters,sotherewasnooneelseinthehousetoseethemdraggingableedingmanupthesteps.“Thebathroom,”CatarinasaidastheysetJemdownonthedarklanding.“Fillthetubwithwater.Lotsofit.Cold.I’llgetmysupplies.”

Tessa ran to the bathroom in the hall, praying that thewater had not beendisruptedbythebombing.Reliefwashedoverheraswaterflowedfromthetap.Theywereonlyallowedtohavefiveinchesinthebath,whichwasenforcedbyaline painted around the inside of the tub. Tessa ignored this. She opened thewindowwide.Therewassomecoolaircomingfromthedirectionawayfromthefires.Shehurrieddownthehall.CatarinahadremovedJem’stunic,leavinghischest bare. She had taken off the bandages, and the woundwas exposed andangry,theblackmarkstracingalonghisveinsonceagain.

“Gethisotherside,”Catarinasaid.Together,theyliftedJemup.Hewasdeadweightastheymaneuveredhimdownthehallandcarefullyputhimintothetub.Catarina positioned him so that hiswounded arm and shoulder hung over theside,thenreachedintoherapronpocketandremovedtwovials.Shepouredthecontentsofoneintothewater,turningitalightblue.Tessaknewbetterthantoask if Catarina thought he was going to survive. He was going to survive,becausetheywouldmakesureofit.Also,youdidn’taskthosesortsofquestionsifyouwereconcernedabouttheanswers.

“Keepsponginghim,”Catarinasaid.“Weneedtokeephimcool.”Tessa got down on her knees and drenched the sponge, then ran the blue-

tintedwateroverJem’sheadandchest. It smelledofastrangecombinationofsulfurandjasmine,anditseemedtolowerhistemperature.Catarinarubbedthecontentsoftheothervialonherhandsandbeganworkingatthewoundandhisarm and chest, massaging the spreading darkness back toward the opening.Jem’s head lolled back, his breathing rough. Tessa swabbed his forehead,reassuringhimallthewhile.

Theydidthisforanhour.Tessasoonforgotthesoundofthebombsoutside,orthesmokeorburningdebristhatdriftedin.Everythingwasthemotionofthewaterand thesponge,Jem’sskin,his face twisted inpain, thengoingstillandslack.BothCatarinaandTessaweredrenched,andtherewaswaterpoolingontheflooraroundthem.Will,Jemsaid,andthevoiceinTessa’sheadwaslostbutseeking.Will,isthat

you?TessafoughtbackthelumpinherthroatasJemsmiledatnothing.Ifhesaw

Will, let him see Will. Maybe Will was here, after all, come to help hisparabatai.Will,Tessa thought toherself, if youarehere, youmust help. I cannot lose

himtoo,Will.Together,wewillsavehim.Perhaps she imagined it, but Tessa felt something guiding her arm as she

worked.Shewasstrongernow.Jemsuddenlylurchedinthewaterandcamehalfwayoutofthetub,hisback

arching into a shape that should not have been possible and sending his headunder.

“Grabhim,”Catarinasaid.“Don’t lethimhurthimself!Thisis theworstofit!”

Together,andwithwhateverforcewasaidingTessa,theygrabbedJemashewrithedandscreamed.Becausehewaswet,theyhadtowrapthemselvesaroundhislimbstotrytopreventhimfromflailing,frombashinghisheadagainstthetiles.HeknockedCatarinaloose,andshefelltothefloorandsmashedherheadintothewall,butshecamebackandgotherarmsaroundhischestagain.Jem’sscreamsblendedwiththechaosofthenight—thewatersplashedandthesmokeblewin.Jembeggedforyinfen.HekickedsohardthatTessawasthrownbackagainstthesink.

Then,allatonce,hestoppedmovingcompletelyandfellbackintothetub.Helookedlifeless.Tessacrawledbackacrossthewetfloorandreachedforhim.

“Jem?Catarina...”“He’salive,”Catarinasaid,herchestheavingas shecaughtherbreath.She

hadherfingersonhiswrist.“We’vedoneallwecandohere.Let’sgethimintobed.We’llknowsoon.”

TheAllClear rangout acrossLondon just after eleven,but therewasnothingclearorsafe.TheLuftwaffemayhavereturnedhome,andthebombsmayhavestoppedfallingforafewhours,butthefiresonlyincreased.Thewindfueledandpropelledthem.Theairwasrankwithburningsootandflyingscrapsofdebris,andLondonglowed.TheyhadmovedJemintothelittlebedroom.Therestofhiswetclothinghadtobe removed.Tessahaddressedandundressedcountlessmenat thispoint, andJem was a Silent Brother, for whom intimacy was impossible. Perhaps sheshouldhavebeenabletodoitwithcalmprofessionalism,butshecouldnotbeanursewithJem.Shehadthoughtoncethatshewouldseehim,thattheywouldseeeachother,nakedontheirweddingnight.Thiswastoointimateandstrange—thiswasnothowJemwouldwantTessatoseehim,likethat,forthefirsttime.SosheleftthetasktoCatarina,thenurse,whomanageditquicklyanddriedJemoff.Theyputhiminthebedandwrappedhimwithall theblanketsintheflat.Theclotheswereeasyenoughtodry—theyhungthemfromthewindowforthebaking hot air of the fires. Then Catarina went into the sitting room, leavingTessa tostaywithJemandholdhishand.Itwassostrangetobeagain in thispositionofstandingbythebedofthemansheloved,waiting,hoping.Jemwas—Jem.Exactlyashehadbeenall thoseyearsago,exceptforthemarksoftheSilent Brothers. He was Jem, the boy with the violin. Her Jem. Age had notconsumedhim,asithadherWill,buthemightbetakenfromherallthesame.

Tessareacheduptoherjadependant,hiddenbeneathhercollar.Shesatandwaitedandlistenedtotheroarandthewailoutsideassheheldhishand.Iamhere,James,shesaidinhermind.Iamhere,andIwillalwaysbehere.Tessa only let go of Jem’s hand to occasionally go to thewindow tomake

surethefiresdidnotcometooclose.Therewasahalooforangeallaround.Thefireswereonlyafewstreetsaway.Itwasstrangelybeautiful,thisterribleblaze.The citywas burning; hundreds of years of history, ancient beams and bookswerealight.

“Theymean toburnusout this time,”Catarina said, comingupbehindherfriend.Tessahadnotheardherenter.“Thisringoffire,itgoesaroundSt.Paul’s.Theywantthecathedraltoburn.Theywanttobreakourspirits.”

“Well,”Tessasaid,pullingthecurtainclosed,“theywon’tsucceed.”

“Whydon’twegoandmakeacupoftea?”Catarinasaid.“He’llbesleepingforsometime.”

“No.Ineedtobeherewhenhewakes.”Catarinalookedatherfriend’sface.“Hemeansagreatdealtoyou,”shesaid.“Jem—BrotherZachariah—andIhavealwaysbeenclose.”“Youlovehim,”Catarinasaid.Itwasnotaquestion.Tessa squeezed a handful of curtain in her fist. They stood in silence for a

moment.Catarinarubbedherfriend’sarmconsolingly.“I’llmake the tea,” she said. “I’ll even let youhave the last biscuits in the

tin.”Biscuits?Tessawhirledaround. Jemwas sittingup.SheandCatarinahurried tohim.

Catarinabegan checkinghis pulse, his skin.Tessa looked at his face, his dearandfamiliarface.Jemwasback;hewashere.

HerJem.“Itishealing,”Catarinasaid.“You’llneedtorest,butyouwilllive.Itwasa

narrowescape,though.”WhichiswhyIcametothebestnursesinLondon,Jemsaid.“Perhaps you can explain that wound you have?” Catarina said. “I know

whereitcomesfrom.Whywereyouattackedwithafaerieweapon?”Iwaslookingforinformation,Jemsaid,shiftinghimselfpainfullytositupa

bithigher.Myinquirieswerenotappreciated.“Clearly, if youwere attackedwith a cataplasm.That is intended to kill. It

doesnotwound.Itisusuallynotsurvivable.YourSilentBrothermarkingsgaveyousomeprotection,but...”

Catarinafelthispulseagain.But?Jemsaidcuriously.“Ididnotbelieveyouwouldmakeitthroughthenight,”shesaidsimply.Tessablinked.Sheknewitwasserious,but thewayCatarinasaid ithither

physically.“You should perhaps avoid making those inquiries again,” Catarina said,

puttingtheblanketbackoverJem.“I’llgoandmakethetea.”Shelefttheroomquietly,closingthedoorbehindher,leavingTessaandJem

togetherinthedarkness.Theraidseemsworsethananybeforetonight,Jemfinallysaid.SometimesI

thinkthemundaneswilldomoreharmtoeachotherthananydemoncouldever

dotothem.Tessafeltawaveofemotiongothroughher—everythingfromthenightburst

tothesurface,andshesankherheadintothesideofJem’sbedandwept.Jemsatup and pulled her close, and she rested her head on his chest, nowwarm, hisheartbeatingstrong.

“Youmighthavedied,”Tessasaid.“Imighthavelostyoutoo.”Tessa,hesaid,Tessa,it’sme.Iamhere.Iamnotgone.“Jem,”shefinallysaid.“Wherehaveyoubeen?It’sbeensolongsince...”Shepulledherselfupandrubbedthetearsfromhercheeks.Shestillcouldn’t

saythewordsSinceWilldied.Sincethatdayshesatnexttohimonthebedandhe drifted gently to sleep and neverwoke again. Jem had been there then, ofcourse,butoverthelastthreeyearsshesawhimlessandless.TheystillmetatBlackfriarsBridge,butotherwisehestayedaway.Ithoughtitbesttokeepawayfromyou.IamaSilentBrother,hesaid,andhis

voiceinherheadwasquiet.Iamnousetoyou.“Whatdoyoumean?”Tessaaskedhelplessly.“Itisalwaysbetterformetobe

withyou.”BeingwhatIam,howcanIcomfortyou?askedJem.“Ifyoucannot,”saidTessa,“thereisnobodyinthisworldwhocan.”Shehadknownthatalways.MagnusandCatarinahadbothtriedtospeakto

hertactfullyofimmortallivesandotherloves,butifsheliveduntilthesundied,therewould never be any other for her besidesWill and Jem, those two twinsouls,theonlysoulsshehadeverloved.I do not knowwhat comfort a creature likeme could bring, said Jem. If I

coulddietobringhimback,Iwould,butheisgone,andwithhislosstheworldseemsevenmorelosttome.IfightforeverydropofemotionIhave,butatthesametime,Tessa,Icannotseeyoulonelyandnotwishtobewithyou.IamnotwhatIwas.Ididnotwanttocauseyoumorepain.

“Thewholeworld seems tohavegonemad,” she said, tears burning inhereyes. “Will is gone from me, and you are gone from me, or so I have longthought.Andyettonight,Irealized—Icouldstillloseyou,Jem.Icouldlosethehope,theslimhopeofthepossibilitythatsomeday...”

Thewordshungintheair.Theywerewordstheyneverspoketoeachotheraloud,notbeforeWilldiedandnotafter.ShehadtakenthepartofherheartthatlovedJemwildly,violently,andlockeditupinabox:shehadlovedWill,andJemhadbeenher best friend, and theyhad never, ever spokenofwhatmighthappenifhewerenolongeraSilentBrother.Ifsomehowthecurseofthatcold

fatecouldbelifted.Ifhissilenceweregone,andhebecamehumanagain,abletoliveandbreatheandfeel.Thenwhat?Whatwouldtheydo?Iknowwhatyouarethinking.Hisvoiceinhermindwassoft.Hisskinunder

herhandswassowarm.Sheknewitwasfever,butshetoldherselfitwasnot.Sheliftedherfaceandlookedintohis,thecruelrunesshuttinghisbelovedeyesforever, the unchanged planes of his countenance. I think of it too.What if itended?Whatifitwerepossibleforus?Afuture?Whatwouldwedo?

“Iwouldseizethatfuture,”shesaid.“Iwouldgowithyouanywhere.Eveniftheworldwasburning,iftheSilentBrothershuntedustotheendsoftheearth,Iwouldbehappy,ifIwaswithyou.”

Shecouldnotquitehearhiminherhead,butshecouldfeelhim:theedgeofajumbleofemotions,hislongingnowasdesperateasithadbeenwhentheyhadfallentogetherontothecarpetofthemusicroom,thenightshehadbeggedhimtomarryherassoonaspossible.

He caught her in his arms. Hewas a Silent Brother, a Grigori, aWatcher,barely human.And yet he felt human enough—his lean chest hot against herskinasshe tiltedher faceup.His lipsmethers, softandsosweet itmadeherache.Ithadbeensomany,manyyears,butthiswasstillthesame.

Almostthesame.IamnotwhatIwas.Almost thefireof lostnights, thesoundofhispassionatemusicinherears.

Sheputherarmsaroundhisslimshouldersandclungtohimfiercely.Shecouldloveenoughforbothofthem.AnypartofJemwasbetterthanallofanyothermanalive.

Hismusician’shandsdrewoverherface,overherhair,overhershoulders,asthough he was seizing a last chance to memorize what he could never touchagain. Even as she kissed him and insisted desperately to herself that it waspossible,sheknewitwasnot.Tessa,hesaid.EvenwhenIcannotsee,youaresobeautiful.Thenhegraspedhershouldersinhisbeautifulhandsandgentlyputheraway

fromhim.I am sorry,mydarling, he toldher.Thatwas not fair ofme, orwell done.

WhenIamwithyou,IwanttoforgetwhatIam,butIcannotchangeit.ASilentBrothercanhavenowife,nolove.

Tessa’sheartwaspounding,her skinblazing like the firesalloverLondon.ShehadnotfeltdesirelikethissinceWill.Sheknewshewouldneverfeelitforanyoneelse;onlyWillorJem.“Don’tgoawayfromme,”shewhispered.“Don’tstop talking tome.Don’t retreat into silence.Will you tellme how youwere

injured?”sheasked,graspinghishand.Hedrewitagainsthisheart.Shecouldfeelithammeringthroughhisribcage.“Please.Jem,whatwereyoudoing?”

Jemsighed.IwaslookingforlostHerondales,hesaid.“LostHerondales?”Thiswas fromCatarina,whostood in thebedroomdoorway,holdinga tray

withtwocupsoftea.Thetrayrattledinherhands,asshakenasTessafelt.ShehadnoteventhoughtofCatarina’spresence.

Catarinasteadiedhergripandquicklysetthetraydownonthedresser.Jem’seyebrowquirkedup.Yes,Jemsaid.Doyouknowsomethingaboutthem?Catarinawasstillvisiblyshaken.Shedidn’tanswer.“Catarina?”Tessaasked.“YouhaveheardofTobiasHerondale,”shesaid.Ofcourse,Jemreplied.Hisstory is infamous.Heran fromabattleandhis

fellowShadowhunterswerekilled.“That is the story,”Catarina said. “The realitywas thatTobiaswasundera

spell,madetobelievethathiswifeandunbornchildwereindanger.Herantohelp them. His fear was for their safety, but nevertheless, he broke the Law.When he could not be found, The Clave punished Tobias’s wife in his stead.Theykilledher,butnotbefore Ihelpedherbirth thechild. Ienchantedher sothat itappearedshewasstillwithchildwhenshewasexecuted. In reality,shehadason.HisnamewasEphraim.”

Shesighedandleanedagainstthewall,knottingherhandstogether.“I tookEphraim toAmerica and raised him there.He never knewwhat he

was,orwhohewas.Hewasahappyboy,agoodboy.Hewasmyboy.”“Youhadason?’Tessaasked.“Inevertoldyou,”Catarinareplied,lookingdown.“Ishouldhave.It’sjust..

. itwassolongagonow.Butitwasawonderfulperiodinmylife.Foratime,therewas no chaos. Therewas no fighting.Wewere a family. I did only onethingtoconnecthimtohissecretheritage—Igavehimanecklacewithaheronetched on it. I couldn’t allow his Shadowhunter lineage to be blotted outcompletely.But, of course, he grewup.He had a family of his own.And hisfamilyhadtheirownfamilies.Istayedthesameandgraduallyfadedoutoftheirlives.Itiswhatweimmortalsmustdo.OneofhisdescendantswasaboynamedRoland.Hebecameamagician,andhewasfamousintheDownworld.Itriedtowarnhimawayfromusingmagic,buthewouldn’tlisten.Wehadaterriblefight

andpartedbadly. I tried to findhim,buthewasgone. I’veneverbeenable tofindanytraceofhim.IdrovehimawaywhenItriedtosavehim.”No,Jemsaid.Thatisnotwhyheranaway.Hemarriedawomanwhowasa

fugitive.Rolandwentintohidingtoprotecther.Catarinalookedupathim.“What?”shesaid.Iwas inAmericaa shortwhileagowithan IronSister, he said, to retrieve

some adamas.While there, we encountered a ShadowMarket connected to acarnival. Itwasrunbyademon.Weconfrontedhim,andhe toldus that therewereHerondales lost in theworldand that theywere indangerand that theywereverycloseby.Hesaidthattheywerehidingfromanenemyneithermortalnordemon.Alsoathismarket,Isawafaeriewomanwithamortalman.Theyhadachild.ThemanwascalledRoland.

Tessawasstunnedbytherushofinformationcomingfromallsides,butshewascaughtbythethoughtofamanthrowingawayhiswholelifetorunwiththewoman he loved, giving everything he had to shield her and counting it asnothing.ThatsoundedlikeaHerondale.

“Hewasalive?”Catarinasaid.“Roland?Atacarnival?”When I realizedwhatwas happening, I tried to track him down, but Iwas

unable to findhim.Pleaseknowthat itwasnotyouhewasrunning from.TheGreaterDemontoldmethattheywerebeingchasedandthattheywereingreatdanger. Now I know that to be true. The faerie who came to me tonight—hemeant tokillme.Theforces lookingfor theHerondalesareneithermortalnordemon—theyarefey,andthefeymeantokeepsomethingsecret.

“So...Ididnotchasehimaway?”Catarinasaid.“Allthistime...Roland...”

Catarina shook herself and regained her composure. She picked up the teatrayandbroughtitovertothebed,settingitontheedge.

“Drink your tea,” she said. “I used the last of our ration of milk and thebiscuits.”YouknowthatSilentBrothersdonotdrink,Jemsaid.Catarina gave him a sad smile. “I thought you might still find comfort in

holdingthewarmcup.”Shewipedhereyescovertlyandturnedandlefttheroom.Youdidnotknowofthis?Jemsaid.“She never said,” Tessa replied. “So many problems are caused by

unnecessarysecrets.”

Jemturnedhisfaceawayandranhisfingeralongtheedgeoftheteacup.Shecaughtathishand.Ifthatwasallshecouldhave,shewouldholdontoit.

“Whyhaveyoukeptsofaraway?”Tessasaid.“WehavebothbeengrievingWill.Whydososeparately?”IamaSilentBrother,andSilentBrotherscannot—Jemcuthimselfoff.Tessaclaspedhishandtothepointwhereshemighthave

brokenit.“YouareJem—myJem.AlwaysmyJem.”IamBrotherZachariah,Jemreturned.“Sobe it!” saidTessa. “YouareBrotherZachariah,andmyJem.Youarea

SilentBrother.Thatdoesnotmeanyouarenotdeartomeasyoualwayswere,andyoualwayswillbe.Doyouthinkanythingcouldseparateus?Areeitherofussoweakasthat?Afterallwehaveseenandallwehavedone?Ispendeverydaygratefulthatyouexistandareintheworld.Andaslongasyoulive,wekeepWillalive.”

She saw the impact thesewordshadon Jem.Being aSilentBrothermeantdestroyingsomepartsofyouthatwerehuman,burningthemaway,butJemwasstillthere.

“Wehavesomuchtime,Jem.Youmustpromisemethatwewillnotspenditapart.Donotkeepawayfromme.Makemeapartof thisquestaswell. Icanhelp.Youmustbemorecareful.”Iwouldnotputyouindanger,hesaid.Atthis,Tessalaughed—atrue,ringinglaugh.“Danger?”shesaid.“Jem,Iamimmortal.Andlookoutside.Lookatthecity

burning.TheonlythingIamfrightenedofisbeingwithoutthoseIlove.”Atlast,shefeltthepressureofhisfingers,holdingherhandback.Outside,Londonburned.Inside,inthismoment,allwaswell.

Themorningcame,coldandgray,withthesmellofthestill-burningfiresintheair.Londonwoke,shookitselfoff,pickedupitsbroomsandbuckets,andbeganthe daily act of repair. The blackout curtainswere opened to themorning air.Peoplewent towork.Thebuses ran, and thekettlesboiled, the shopsopened.Fearhadnotwon.Deathandfireandwarhadnotwon.

Tessahadfallenasleeparounddawn,sittingbyJem’sside,holdinghishand,her head leaningon thewall.When she stirred awake, she found that thebedwas empty. The blanket had been neatly pulled back up and the clotheswere

gonefromthesill.“Jem,”Tessasaid,frantic.Catarinawasasleepintheirlittlesittingroom,herheadbasketedinherarms

andrestingontheirkitchentable.“Heisgone,”Tessasaid.“Didyouseehimgo?”“No,”Catarinasaid,rubbinghereyes.Tessareturned to thebedroomand lookedaround.Had itallbeenadream?

Hadthewardrivenhermad?Assheturned,shesawafoldednoteonthedresserthatsaidTESSA.Sheopenedit:

MyTessa,Therewillbenoseparationbetweenus.Whereyouare,Iam.Whereweare,Willis.WhateverelseImaybe,Iremainalways,YourJem

Brother Zachariah walked through London. The city was gray with night, itsbuildings reduced to broken remnants of what they had once been, until itseemedacitymadeofashandbone.PerhapsallcitieswouldbecometheSilentCity,oneday.

HewasabletoconcealsomethingsfromhisBrothers,eventhoughtheyhadready access to his mind. They did not know all his secrets, but they knewenough.Tonighteveryvoiceinhismindwashushed,overwhelmedbywhathehadfeltandwhathehadalmostdone.

He was bitterly ashamed of what he had said this night. Tessa was stillgrievingWill. They shared that grief, and they loved each other. She did stilllove him.He believed that. But she could not feel what she had felt for himonce.Shehadnot,thanktheAngel,livedashehadlived,inbonesandsilenceandonmemoriesoflove.She’dhadWill,andlovedhimsolong,andnowWillwaslost.Heworriedthathehadtakenadvantageofhermisery.Shemightwellclingtowhatwasfamiliarinaworldgonemadandstrange.

Butshewassobrave,hisTessa,carvingoutanewlifenowtheoldlifewaslost.She’ddoneitoncealready,asagirlcomingfromAmerica.Hehadfeltitasabondbetweenthemlongago,thattheyhadbothcomeacrosstheseastofindanewhome.Hehadthoughttheycouldfindanewhomewitheachother.

Heknewnowthathadbeenadream,butwhathadbeendreamsforhimcouldberealforTessa.Shewasimmortalandvaliant.Shewouldliveagaininthisnew

world,andbuildawholenew life.Perhapsshewould loveagain, if shecouldfind amanwhowouldmeasure up toWill, though in almost a hundred yearsZachariahhadnotknownanywhocould.Tessadeservedtherichestlifeandthegreatestloveimaginable.

Tessadeservedmorethanabeingwhocouldnevertrulybeamanagain,whocould not love herwith awhole heart. Even though he loved herwith all thebrokenfragmentsofhearthehadleft,itwasnotenough.Shedeservedmorethanhehadtooffer.

Heshouldneverhavedoneit.Nevertheless,therewasaselfishjoywithinhim,awarmththathecouldcarry

even into thedeathlikecoldnessof theCityofBones.Shehadkissedhimandclungtohim.Foroneshiningnight,hehadheldherinhisarmsagain.Tessa,Tessa,Tessa,hethought.Shecouldneverbehisagain,buthewashers

forever.Thatwasenoughtoliveupon.

Thatevening,CatarinaandTessawalkedinthedirectionofSt.Bart’s.“Abaconsandwich,”Catarinasaid.“Piledsohighyoucanbarelyholdit.And

thickwithsomuchbutterthebaconslidesoffthebread.That’swhatI’mhavingfirst.Howaboutyou?”

Tessasmiledandshonehertorchdownthepavement,steppingoverabitofrubble.Aroundthem,therewereshellsofbuildings.Everythingaroundhadbeenreducedtocharredbrickandash.ButalreadyLondonwaspickingup,pushingthe debris back. The dark was like an embrace. All of London was under ablankettogether,holdingeachotherclose.

“An ice cream,” Tessa said. “With strawberries. Loads and loads ofstrawberries.”

“Oh,Ilikethat,”Catarinasaid.“I’mchangingmine.”Amanwalkingtowardthemtippedhishat.“Evening,sisters,”hesaid.“Youseethat?”HegesturedupatSt.Paul’sCathedral,thegreatbuildingthathadsatguarding

overLondonforhundredsofyears.“Theywantedtotakeitdownlastnight,buttheydidn’t,didthey?”Theman

smiled.“No,theydidn’t.Theycan’tbreakus.Youhaveagoodevening,sisters.Youkeepwell.”

Themanwalkedon,andTessalookedupatthecathedral.Everythingaroundit was gone, but it had been saved—impossibly, improbably saved from

thousandsofbombs.Londonwouldnotletitdie,andithadlived.Shetouchedthejadependantaroundherneck.

AudioEditionsAudio editions are available fromSimon&SchusterAudio through allmajoraudioretailers.

NewsletterSignUpforCassie’sMailingListtoGetNews&ExclusiveContentDeliveredtoYourInbox:cassandraclare.com/newsletter

CassandraClareonlineinstagram.com/cassieclare1twitter.com/cassieclarecassandraclare.tumblr.com

AbouttheAuthorsCassandraClarewasborntoAmericanparentsinTeheran,Iranandspentmuchofherchildhood traveling theworldwithher family.She lived inFrance,EnglandandSwitzerlandbeforeshewastenyearsold.Sinceherfamilymoved around somuch she found familiarity inbooks andwenteverywherewithabookunderherarm.ShespentherhighschoolyearsinLos Angeles where she used to write stories to amuse her classmates,including an epic novel called “TheBeautiful Cassandra” based on theeponymous JaneAusten short story (and fromwhich she later took hercurrentpenname).After college, Cassie lived in Los Angeles and NewYork where she

workedatvariousentertainmentmagazinesandevensomerathersuspecttabloids. She startedworking on herYAnovel,City of Bones, in 2004,inspiredbytheurbanlandscapeofManhattan,herfavoritecity.In2007, thefirstbookintheMortalInstrumentsseries,CityofBones,

introduced the world to Shadowhunters. The Mortal Instrumentsconcluded in 2014, and includesCity of Ashes, City of Glass, City ofFallen Angels, City of Lost Souls, andCity of Heavenly Fire. She alsocreated a prequel series, inspired by A Tale of Two Cities and set inVictorianLondon.This series,The InfernalDevices, followsbookwormTessa Gray as she discovers the London Institute inClockwork Angel,ClockworkPrince,andClockworkPrincess.ThesequelseriestoTheMortalInstruments,TheDarkArtifices,where

the Shadowhunters take on Los Angeles, began with Lady Midnight,continueswithLordofShadowsandwillconcludewithQueenofAirandDarkness.OtherbooksintheShadowhuntersseriesincludeTheBaneChronicles,

TalesfromtheShadowhunterAcademy,andTheShadowhunter’sCodex.Her books have more than 36 million copies in print worldwide and

have been translated into more than thirty-five languages. Visit her atCassandraClare.com.

Maureen Johnson is the New York Times and USA Today bestsellingauthor of several YA novels, including 13 Little Blue Envelopes, SuiteScarlett,andTheNameoftheStar.Shehasalsodonecollaborativeworks,

suchasLetItSnow(withJohnGreenandLaurenMyracle),andTheBaneChronicles(withCassandraClareandSarahReesBrennan).MaureenhasanMFA inWriting fromColumbiaUniversity.ShehasbeennominatedforanEdgarAwardandtheAndreNortonAward,andherbooksappearfrequentlyonYALSAand stateawards lists.TimeMagazine has namedheroneof the top140people to followonTwitter (@maureenjohnson).Maureen lives in New York, and online on Twitter (or atmaureenjohnsonbooks.com).