Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices 2)

"Ty," said Livvy. "Put it back, unless you're planning on throwing it at Zara."

"Waste of a perfectly good starfish," muttered Kit, and Ty laughed. The salt air had tangled his arrow-straight black hair, and his eyes glowed like the moonlight on the water. Kit just stared, unable to think of anything else clever to say, as Ty gently placed the starfish back in its tide pool.

They made it to the cave opening without any other stops for wildlife. Livvy went in first, with Ty and Kit following. Kit paused as the darkness of the cave enveloped him.

"I can't see," he said, trying to fight his rising panic. He hated the pitch dark, but then who didn't?

Light burst around him like the sudden appearance of a falling star. It was witchlight; Ty was holding it. "Do you want a Night Vision rune?" Livvy asked, her hand on her stele.

Kit shook his head. "No runes," he said. He wasn't sure why he was insisting. It wasn't as if the iratze had hurt. It just seemed like the final hurdle, the last admission that he was a Shadowhunter, not just a boy with Shadowhunter blood who had decided to make the Institute a way station while he figured out a better plan.

Whatever that plan might be. Kit tried not to brood on it as they advanced deeper into the tunnels.

"Do you think this is part of the convergence?" he heard Livvy whisper.

Ty shook his head. "No. The bluffs of the coast are riddled with caves, always have been. I mean, anything could be down here--nests of demons, vampires--but I don't think this has anything to do with Malcolm. And the ley lines are nowhere near here."

"I really wish you hadn't said 'nests of demons,' " said Kit. "It makes them sound like spiders."

"Some demons are spiders," said Ty. "The biggest one ever reported was twenty feet tall and had yard-long mandibles."

Kit thought of the giant praying mantis demons that had ripped his father apart. It was hard to think of anything witty to say about a giant spider when you'd seen the white of your father's rib cage.

"Shh." Livvy held up a hand. "I hear voices."

Kit strained his ears, but heard nothing. He suspected there was another rune he was lacking, something that would give him Superman hearing. He could see lights moving up ahead, though, around the curve of the tunnel.

They moved ahead, Kit staying to the rear of Ty and Livvy. The tunnel opened out into a massive chamber, a room with cracked granite walls, a packed-earth floor, and a smell of mold and decay. The ceiling rose into blackness.

There was a wooden table and two chairs in the middle of the room. The only light came from rune-stones placed on the table; one chair was occupied by Zara. Kit pressed himself instinctively back against the wall; on the other side of the tunnel, Livvy and Ty did the same.

Zara was examining some papers she'd spread on the table. There was a bottle of wine and a glass at her elbow. She wasn't dressed in gear, but in a plain dark suit, her hair drawn back into an impossibly tight bun.

Kit strained to see what she was studying, but he was too far away. He could read some words etched into the table, though: FIRE WANTS TO BURN. He had no idea what they meant. Zara didn't seem to be doing anything interesting, either; maybe she just came here to have privacy for her reading. Maybe she was secretly tired of Perfect Diego and was hiding. Who could blame her?

Zara looked up, her eyebrows creasing. Someone was coming--Kit heard the quick tread of feet, and a tousle-haired figure in jeans appeared at the far end of the room.

"It's Manuel," Livvy whispered. "Maybe they're having an affair?"

"Manu," Zara said, frowning. She didn't sound lovelorn. "You're late."

"Sorry." Manuel grinned a disarming grin and grabbed for the free chair, swinging it around so he could seat himself with his arms folded over the back. "Don't be cross, Zara. I had to wait until Rayan and Jon fell asleep--they were in a chatty mood, and I didn't want to chance anyone seeing me leave the Institute." He indicated the papers. "What have you got there?"

"Updates from my father," Zara said. "He was disappointed about the outcome of the last Council, obviously. The decision to let that half-breed Mark Blackthorn remain among decent Nephilim would offend anyone."

Manuel picked up her glass of wine. Red lights glinted in its depths. "Still, we must look to the future," he said. "Getting rid of Mark wasn't the point of our journey here, after all. He's a minor annoyance, like his siblings."

Ty, Kit, and Livvy exchanged confused looks. Livvy's face was tight with anger. Ty's was expressionless, but his hands moved restlessly at his sides.

"True. The first step is the Registry," Zara said. She patted the papers, making them rustle. "My father says the Cohort is strong in Idris, and they believe the Los Angeles Institute is ripe for the plucking. The incident with Malcolm sowed considerable doubt in the West Coast's ability to make judgments. And the fact that the High Warlock of Los Angeles and the head of the local vampire clan both turned out to be enmeshed in dark magic--"

"That wasn't our fault," Livvy whispered. "There was no way to possibly know--"

Ty shushed her, but Kit had missed the last of what Zara was saying. He was only conscious of her grin like a dark red slash across her face.

"Confidence isn't very high," she finished.

"And Arthur?" said Manuel. "The putative head of the place? Not that I've laid eyes on him once."

"A lunatic," said Zara. "My father told me he suspected as much. He knew him at the Academy. I talked to Arthur myself. He thought I was someone named Amatis."

Kit glanced at Livvy, who gave a puzzled shrug.

"It will be easy enough to put him up in front of the Council and prove he's a madman," said Zara. "I can't say who's been running the Institute in his stead--Diana, I imagine--but if she'd wanted the head position, she'd have taken it already."

"So your father steps in, the Cohort makes sure he carries the vote, and the Institute is his," said Manuel.

"Ours," Zara corrected. "I will run the Institute by his side. He trusts me. We'll

be a team."

Manuel didn't seem impressed. He'd probably heard it before. "And then, the Registry."

"Absolutely. We'll be able to propose it as Law immediately, and once it passes, we can begin the identifications." Zara's eyes glittered. "Every Downworlder will wear the sign."

Kit's stomach lurched. This was close enough to mundane history to make him taste bile in the back of his throat.

"We can start at the Shadow Market," said Zara. "The creatures congregate there. If we take enough of them into custody, we should be able to seize the rest for registration soon enough."

"And if they're not inclined to be registered, then they can be convinced easily enough with a little pain," said Manuel.

Zara frowned. "I think you enjoy the torture, Manu."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his face open and handsome and charming. "I think you do too, Zara. I've seen you admiring my work." He flexed his fingers. "You just don't want to admit it in front of Perfect Diego."

"Seriously? They call him that too?" Kit muttered under his breath.

Zara tossed her head, but Manuel was grinning.

"You're going to have to tell him eventually, about the Cohort's full plans," he said. "You know he won't approve. He's a Downworlder-lover if there ever was one."

Zara made a disgusted noise. "Nonsense. He's nothing like that disgusting Alec Lightwood and his stupid Alliance and his repulsive demon-spawn boyfriend. The Blackthorns may be faerie-loving morons, but Diego's just . . . confused."

"What about Emma Carstairs?"

Zara began gathering up the pages of her father's letter. She didn't look at Manuel. "What about her?"

"Everyone says she's the best Shadowhunter since Jace Herondale," said Manuel. "A title I know you've long coveted for yourself."

"Vanessa Ashdown says she's a boy-crazy slut," said Zara, and the ugly words seemed to echo off the rock walls. Kit thought of Emma with her sword, Emma saving his life, Emma hugging Cristina and looking at Julian like he hung the moon, and he wondered if he could get away with stomping on Zara's foot the next time he saw her. "And I haven't been particularly impressed by her in person. She's quite, quite ordinary."

"I'm sure she is," said Manuel as Zara rose to her feet, papers in hand. "I still don't understand what you see in Diego."