Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices 2)

But when they erupted, they could rain down devastation for miles.

"Jules," she said. He glanced over at her; fury gleamed behind his eyes. "We might not have witchlight, or runes, but we are still Shadowhunters. With everything that means. We can do this. We can."

It felt like a clumsy speech to her, but she saw the fire die in his eyes. "You're right," he said. "Sorry."

"And I'm sorry for bringing you all here," said Mark. "If I had known--about the runes--but it must be something recent, very much so . . . ."

"You didn't bring us here," said Cristina. "We followed you. And we all came through not just for you but because of what the phouka told each of us; isn't that true?"

One you have loved and lost. "It's true for me," said Emma. She glanced at the sky. "We should get going, though. Morning is probably in just a few hours. And if we don't have Energy runes, we'll have to get our energy the old-fashioned way."

Mark looked puzzled. "Drugs?"

"Chocolate," Emma said. "I brought chocolate. Mark, where do you even come up with these things?"

Mark smiled crookedly, shrugging one shoulder. "Faerie humor?"

"I thought faeries mostly made jokes at other people's expense and played pranks on mundanes," said Julian.

"Sometimes they tell very long, rhyming stories they think are hilarious," said Mark. "But I have to admit I never really understood why."

Julian sighed. "That actually sounds worse than anything else I've heard about the Unseelie Court."

Mark shot Julian a grateful look, as if to say that he understood that his brother had mastered his temper in part for him, for all of them, so that they would be all right. So that they could continue on their way, and find Kieran, with Julian leading them as he always did. "Come," Mark said, turning. "It is this way--we should begin walking; it may not be very many more hours until dawn."

Mark headed into the shadows between the trees. Mist clung to the branches, like ropes of white and silver. Leaves rustled softly in the wind above their heads. Julian moved to walk up ahead next to his brother; Emma could hear him asking, "Puns? At least promise me there won't be puns."

"The way that boys tell each other they love each other is so very odd," said Cristina as she and Emma ducked beneath a branch. "Why can't they just say it? Is it so difficult?"

Emma grinned at her friend. "I love you, Cristina," she said. "And I'm glad you're getting to visit Faerie, even if it's under weird circumstances. Maybe you can find a hot faerie guy and forget about Imperfect Diego."

Cristina smiled. "I love you, too, Emma," she said. "And maybe I will."

*

Kit's list of grievances against the Shadowhunters had now gotten long enough that he'd started writing it down. Stupid hot people, he'd written, won't let me go home and get my stuff.

They won't tell me anything about what it would mean to actually become a Shadowhunter. Would I have to go somewhere and train?

They won't tell me how long I can stay here, except "as long as you need to." Don't I have to go to school eventually? Some kind of school?

They won't talk about the Cold Peace or how it sucks.

They won't let me eat cookies.

He thought for a while, and then crossed that one out. They did let him eat cookies; he just suspected they were judging him for it.

They don't seem to understand what autism is, or mental illness, or therapy, or medical treatment. Do they believe in things like chemotherapy? What if I get cancer? I probably won't get cancer. But if I did . . .

They won't tell me how Tessa and Jem found my dad. Or why my dad hated Shadowhunters so much.

That one was the hardest to write. Kit had always thought of his father as a small-time con man, a lovable rogue, a sort of Han Solo type, swindling his way across the galaxy. But lovable rogues didn't get torn apart by demons the moment their elaborate protection spells fell apart. And though mostly Kit was confused by what had happened at the Shadow Market, he had learned one thing: His dad had not been like Han Solo.

Sometimes, in the dark watches of the night, Kit wondered who he was like himself.

Speaking of the dark watches of the night, he had a new grievance to add to his list. They make me get up early.

Diana, whose official title was tutor but who seemed to function as a guardian-slash-high school principal, had woken Kit up early in the morning and herded him, along with Ty and Livvy, into a corner office with an expansive view and a massive glass desk. She looked pissed off the way adults sometimes looked pissed off when they were angry at someone else, but they were going to take it out on you.

Kit was correct. Diana was currently furious at Julian, Emma, Mark, and Cristina, who, according to Arthur, had disappeared to Faerie in the dead of night to rescue someone named Kieran who Kit had never met. Further discussion illuminated that Kieran was the son of the Unseelie King and Mark's ex-boyfriend, both of which were interesting pieces of information that Kit filed away for later.

"This is not good," Diana finished. "Any travel to Faerie is entirely off-limits to Nephilim without special permissions."

"But they'll come back, right?" Ty said. He sounded strained. "Mark will come back?"

"Of course they'll come back," said Livvy. "It's just a mission. A rescue mission," she added, turning to Diana. "Won't the Clave understand they had to go?"

"Rescuing a faerie--no," Diana said, shaking her head. "They are not entitled to our protection under the Accords. The Centurions can't know. The Clave would be furious."

"I won't tell," said Ty.

"I won't either," agreed Livvy. "Obviously."

They both looked at Kit.

"I don't even know why I'm here," he said.

"You have a point," said Livvy. She turned to Diana. "Why is he here?"

"You seem to have a way of knowing everything," Diana said to Kit. "I thought it would be better to control your information. And get a promise from you."

"That I won't tell? Of course I won't tell. I don't even like the Centurions. They're . . ." What I always thought Shadowhunters would be like. You're not. You're all . . . different. "Jerks," he finished.

"I cannot believe," Livvy said, "that Julian and them have found a fun adventure to go on and just left the rest of us here to fetch towels for Centurions."

Diana looked surprised. "I thought you'd be upset," she said. "Worried about them."

Livvy shook her head. Her long hair, shades lighter than Ty's, flew around her. "That they're off having fun and getting to see Faerie? While we drudge around here? When they get back, I'm going to have words with Julian."

"Which words?" Ty looked confused for a moment, before his face cleared. "Oh," he said. "You're going to curse him out."

"I'm going to use every bad word I know, and look up some other ones," said Livvy.

Diana was biting her lip. "You're really all right?"

Ty nodded. "Cristina has studied Faerie extensively, Mark was a Hunter, and Julian and Emma are clever and brave," he said. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

Diana looked stunned. Kit had to admit he was surprised too. The Blackthorns had struck him as a family so close-knit that "enmeshed" didn't begin to cover it. But Livvy kept up her cheerful annoyance when they went to tell Dru and Tavvy that the others had gone to the Shadowhunter Academy to fetch something--she was quite convincing, too, as she told them how Cristina had gone along because visiting the Academy was now a required part of one's travel year--and they repeated the same story to a glowering Diego and a bunch of Centurions, including his fiancee, who Kit had taken to calling Loathsome Zara in his mind.

"In sum," Livvy finished sweetly, "you may have to launder some of your own towels. Now if you'll excuse us, Ty and I are going to take Kit here on a tour of the perimeter."

Zara arched an eyebrow. "The perimeter?"

"The wards you just put up," said Livvy, and marched outside. She didn't actually drag Ty and Kit after her physically, but something about the force of her

personality accomplished basically the same thing. The Institute doors fell shut behind them as she was already clattering down the front steps.

"Did you see the look on those Centurions' faces?" she demanded as they made their way around the massive side of the Institute. She was wearing boots and denim shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs. Kit attempted to seem as if he wasn't looking.

"I don't think they appreciated what you said about washing their own towels," said Ty.

"Maybe I should have drawn them a map to where the detergent is," said Livvy. "You know, since they like maps so much."

Kit laughed. Livvy glanced over at him, half-suspicious. "What?"

They'd passed the parking lot behind the Institute and reached a low hedge of sagebrush, behind which was a statuary garden. Greek playwrights and historians stood around in plaster poses, holding wreaths of laurel. It seemed oddly out of place, but then Los Angeles was a city of things that didn't seem like they belonged where they were.

"It was funny," Kit said. "That was all."