"I'll head somewhere," she said.
He started toward the car, then paused and turned to look back at her. "Do you ever regret it? Choosing to be our tutor? You didn't have to."
The wind blew her dark hair across her face. "No," she said. "I am who I am because I've been part of your family. Never forget, Jules. The choices we make, make us."
The drive back was silent and exhausted. Ty was quiet, looking out the window of the passenger seat. Dru was curled into a ball. Tavvy was awake but barely, his head against Livia's shoulder. Emma was slumped against a backseat window, holding Cortana, her damp blond hair straggling around her face, her eyes closed. Mark was squeezed in beside her.
Julian wanted to reach for Emma, slide his hand into hers, but he didn't dare, not in front of the others. He couldn't stop himself from reaching back from the driver's seat to touch Tavvy's arm, though, making sure that his little boy was still alive, still all right.
They were all still alive, and it was little short of a miracle. Julian felt as if every nerve in his body had been pulled out of his skin. He visualized the nerve endings exposed, each one like a Sensor, reacting to the presence of his family around him.
He thought of Diana, saying, You're going to have to let go.
And he knew it was true. Someday he would have to open his hands, let his brothers and sisters go freely into the world, a world that would cut them, bruise them, knock them down and not help them back up again. Someday he would have to do that.
But not yet. Not quite yet.
"Ty," Julian said. He spoke quietly, so that the passengers in the backseat wouldn't hear him.
"Yes?" Ty looked over. The shadows under his eyes were as gray as his irises.
"You were right," Julian said. "I was wrong."
"I was?" Ty sounded surprised. "About what?"
"You coming with us to the convergence," said Julian. "You fought well--amazingly, in fact. If you hadn't been there . . ." His throat closed up. It was a moment before he could speak again. "I'm grateful," he said. "And I'm also sorry. I should have listened. You were right about what you could do."
"Thanks," said Ty. "For apologizing." He fell silent, which Julian assumed meant the conversation was over, but after a few seconds Ty leaned over and touched his head lightly to Julian's shoulder--a friendly head butt, as if he were Church, seeking affection. Julian reached out to ruffle up his younger brother's hair and nearly smiled.
The nascent smile vanished quickly when they bumped to a stop in front of the Institute. It was lit up like a Christmas tree. It had been dark when they'd left, and as they piled out of the car, Julian caught the faintest of faint glimmers on the air.
He exchanged a look with Emma. Light in the air meant a Portal, and a Portal meant the Clave.
Diana's truck pulled up, and Diego and Cristina spilled out. They slammed the doors behind them and the truck sped away. The Blackthorns had all emerged as well: some of them blinking and barely awake (Dru, Mark), some looking quietly suspicious (Ty), and some nervous (Livvy, who was clutching Tavvy tightly). In the distance, Julian thought he could see the faint pale shape of Windspear.
They headed toward the Institute steps together. At the top of the stairs, Julian hesitated with his hand on the front door.
Anything could be waiting for him on the other side, from the massed array of the Council to a few dozen Clave warriors. Julian knew there was no more hiding Mark. He knew what his plans were. He knew they balanced, like a million angels, on the head of a pin. Chance, circumstance, and determination held them together.
He glanced over and saw Emma looking at him. Though her tired and grimy face didn't break into a smile, he saw her confidence and her trust in him in her eyes.
He'd missed one, he thought. Chance, circumstance, determination--and faith.
He opened the door.
The light in the entryway was blazingly bright. Both witchlight chandeliers were burning, and the upstairs gallery was illuminated by rows of torches that the family almost never used. Light glowed beneath the doors of the Sanctuary.
In the middle of the room stood Magnus Bane, resplendent in an elegant outfit: a brocade jacket and trousers, his fingers adorned with dozens of rings. Beside him was Clary Fairchild, her bright red hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing a delicate green dress. They both looked as if they had just come from a party.
As Julian and the rest flooded into the room, Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Well, well," he said. "Kill the fatted calf and all that. The prodigals have returned."
Clary's hand flew to her mouth. "Emma, Julian--" She whitened. "Mark? Mark Blackthorn?"
Mark said nothing. None of them did. Julian realized that unconsciously, they had grouped themselves around Mark, a loose circle protecting him. Even Diego, wincing and blood-spattered, was part of it.
Mark stood silent, his ragged pale-blond hair a halo around his head, his pointed ears and polychrome eyes clearly visible in the bright light.
Magnus looked hard at Mark before glancing up toward the second floor. "Jace!" he called. "Get down here!"
Clary made a move toward the Blackthorns, but Magnus pulled her back gently. She was frowning. "Are you all right?" she said, directing the question to Emma but clearly meaning it for all of them. "Are you hurt?"
Before anyone could speak, there was a commotion at the top of the steps, and a tall figure appeared there.
Jace.
The first time Julian had really met Jace Herondale, who was famous throughout the Shadowhunter world, Jace had been about seventeen and Julian had been twelve. Emma, who had also been twelve, had not been shy about letting the world know she thought Jace was the handsomest and most amazing person who had ever graced the planet with his presence.
Julian had not agreed, but then, no one had asked him.
Jace descended the stairs in a manner that made Julian wonder if Jace thought he had a magnificent train trailing behind him--slowly, deliberately, and as if he were aware that he was the focus of all eyes.
Or maybe he was just used to being stared at. Emma had stopped going on about Jace at some point, but the Shadowhunter world in general considered him out of the ordinary in terms of looks. His hair was shockingly gold and so were his eyes. Like Magnus and Clary he looked like he had come from a party: He wore a winered blazer and an air of casual elegance. Reaching the bottom step, he glanced toward Julian--covered in blood and dirt--and then toward the rest of them, just as ragged and stained.
"Well, either you've been out fighting the forces of evil or you've come from a much wilder party than we have," Jace said. "Hello, there, Blackthorns."
Livvy sighed. She was looking at Jace the way Emma had when she was twelve. Dru, loyal to her crush on Diego, just glared.
"Why are you here?" Julian asked, though he knew the answer. Still, it was better to build up the idea that you were surprised. People trusted your answers more when they thought they weren't rehearsed.
"Dark magic," said Magnus. "A huge flare of it on the map. At the convergence site." He slid his gaze toward Emma. "I thought you might do something with that bit of information I gave you. Where ley lines are concerned, the convergence is always key."
"Why didn't you go there, then?" Emma asked. "To the convergence?"
"Magnus checked it out with a spell," Clary said. "There was nothing there but some wreckage, so we Portaled here."
"From my sister's engagement party, to be precise," said Jace. "There was an open bar."
"Oh!" A look of happiness flitted across Emma's face. "Isabelle's marrying Simon?"
As far as Julian was concerned, no girl had ever been born who could compare to Emma, but when Clary smiled, she was very pretty. Her whole face lit up. It was something she and Emma had in common, actually. "Yeah," Clary said. "He's really happy."
"Mazel tov to them," said Jace, leaning against the banister rail. "Anyway, we were at the party, and Magnus got this alert about necromantic magic near the L.A. Institute, and he t
ried to reach Malcolm, but no luck. So we snuck out, just the four of us. Which is a big loss to the party if you ask me, because I was going to give a toast and it was going to be glorious. Simon would never be able to show his face in public again."
"Not really the point of an engagement toast, Jace," Clary said.
She was looking worriedly at Diego--he was awfully pale.
"Four of you?" Emma looked around the room. "Is Alec here?"
Magnus opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment the doors of the Sanctuary burst open, and a tall, stocky man with dark hair emerged: Robert Lightwood, the current Inquisitor, second in command to the Consul of Idris, and in charge of investigating Shadowhunters who had broken the Law.
Julian had met the Inquisitor exactly once before, when he'd been forced to stand up in front of the Council and give his account of Sebastian's attack on the Institute. He remembered holding the Mortal Sword in his hand. The feeling of the truth being dragged out of you with knives and hooks, of your internal organs tearing apart.
He had never lied when he was asked about the attack, had never wanted or planned to. But it hurt just the same. And bearing the Mortal Sword, even for such a short time, had forged an indelible bond in his mind between truth and pain.
The Inquisitor strode toward him. He was a little older than the Robert Lightwood Julian remembered, his hair more liberally streaked with gray. But the look in his dark blue eyes was the same: hard and cold.
"What's going on here?" he demanded. "There was a flare of necromantic magic traced to this Institute several hours ago and your uncle claims to know nothing about it. More troubling, he refused to tell us where you disappeared to." He spun around, his eyes raking their group--and landing on Mark. "Mark Blackthorn?"
"I already said that," said Clary. Julian had the feeling she wasn't overly fond of her prospective father-in-law--if he was that. He realized he didn't know if Jace and Clary had plans to get married.
"Yes," Mark said. He was standing upright as if facing a firing squad. He met Robert Lightwood's eyes, and Julian saw the Inquisitor flinch at the sight of Wild Hunt eyes in a Shadowhunter's face.
They were an accusation against the Clave, those eyes. They said, You abandoned me. You did not protect me. I was alone.
"I have come back," Mark said.