Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices 1)

Emma had known there was trouble the moment she'd arrived at Johnny Rook's. Though the house looked the same, though the door was closed and the windows shuttered and quiet, she'd felt a lack of the magical energy that had been apparent when they'd been there before. She'd glanced back down at the text message on her phone and drawn Cortana.

The inside of the house looked as if a bomb had gone off. It was clear the Mantids had come from the ground under the house--demons often traveled beneath the earth to avoid daylight. They had burst up through the floorboards; ichor and blood and sawdust were everywhere.

And Mantids. They looked far more grotesque in Johnny Rook's living room than they had on the cliff tops of the Santa Monica Mountains. More insectile, more monstrous. Their razored arms sheered through wood walls, slashed apart furniture and books.

Emma swung Cortana. She sliced one Mantid apart; it disappeared with a screech, leaving her view of the room unobstructed. Several of the other Mantids were splashed with red, human blood. They circled the remains of what had been Johnny Rook, in pieces on the floor.

Kit. Emma looked around wildly, saw the boy crouching by the stairs. He was unharmed. She started toward him--just as he seized up a chair and smashed it down over a Mantid demon's head.

Only training kept Emma from stopping in her tracks. Human children didn't do that. They didn't know how to fend off demons. They didn't have the instinct--

The door behind her blew open, and again only her training kept her from halting in surprise. She managed to sever the head of another Mantid demon, slicking Cortana's blade with ichor, even as Jem Carstairs raced into the room, followed by Tessa.

They had plunged into the battle without a word to each other or to Emma, but Emma had exchanged a glance with Jem as they fought, and knew that he wasn't surprised to see her. He looked older than he had in Idris--now closer to twenty-six, more a man than a boy, though Tessa looked just 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 making you something you do not want to be. But your father had many enemies. Now that he is dead and cannot protect you, they will come after you. You will be safest in the Institute."

Kit grunted. He looked neither impressed nor trusting.

It was odd, Emma thought, as they pulled up at the end of the road. The only things Kit had in common with his father, looks-wise, were his height and slenderness. As he stepped out of the car, hunching over his bloody shirt, his eyes were a clear blue. His hair, pale gold waves--that was pure Herondale. And his face, too, the fine bones of it, the gracefulness. He was too bloody and scratched and miserable-looking to tell now, but he'd be devastating someday.

Kit looked at the Institute, all glass and wood and shining in the afternoon light, with loathing. "Aren't Institutes like jails?"

Emma snorted. "They're like big houses. Shadowhunters from all over the world can stay there. They have a million bedrooms. I live in this one."

"Whatever." Kit sounded sullen. "I don't want to go in."

"You could run away," Tessa said, and for the first time Emma heard the hardness under the gentle tone of her voice. It was a reminder that she and Jace shared some of the same blood. "But you would most likely be eaten by a Mantid demon as soon as the sun set."

"I'm not a Shadowhunter," Kit said, getting out of the car. "Stop acting like I am."

"Well, there's a quick test for it," said Jem. "Only a Shadowhunter can open the door of the Institute."

"The door?" Kit stared at it. He was holding one arm close against his body. Emma's gaze sharpened. With Julian as a parabatai, she had become familiar with the way boys handled themselves when they were trying to conceal an injury. Maybe some of that blood was his.

"Kit--" she began.

"Let me get this straight," he interrupted. "If I try to open that door and I can't, you'll let me go?"

Tessa nodded. Before Emma could say anything else, Kit limped up the stairs. She dashed after him, Tessa and Jem behind her. Kit put his shoulder to the door. He shoved.

The door flew open and he half-fell inside, nearly knocking over Tiberius, who had been crossing the entryway. Ty stumbled back and stared at the boy on the floor.

Kit was kneeling, his hand clearly cradling his left arm. He was breathing hard as he looked around, taking in the entryway--the marble floor, carved with runes. The swords hanging on the walls. The mural of the Angel and the Mortal Instruments. "It's impossible," he said. "I can't be."

Ty's look of astonishment faded. "Are you all right?"

"You," Kit said, staring up at Ty. "You pointed a knife at me."

Ty looked uncomfortable. He reached up to tug on a lock of his dark hair. "It was

just work. Not personal."

Kit started to laugh. Still laughing, he sank back onto the floor. Tessa knelt down next to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. Emma couldn't help seeing herself, during the Dark War, breaking down when she realized her parents were dead.

Kit looked up at her. His expression was blurry. It was the expression of someone who was using every bit of his willpower not to cry. "A million bedrooms," he said.