SEEK CHURCH.
“Do you understand it?” Diana said. “Nobody here does. Churches aren’t doing well in this world. They’re all deconsecrated and full of demons.”
“Everyone’s so quiet,” Emma said, whispering herself. “Are they—scared?”
“Not really,” said Diana. “I think it’s just been so long since any of us have seen magic.”
Livvy pushed her way through the crowd toward them, leaving Cameron behind. “Is this from Tessa Gray?” she demanded, eyes wide, as she reached them. “Is this a response to that summons? Did it work?”
“Yeah,” Julian said. “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what this is. Tessa wants us to come to her.”
“Not too trusting,” said Diana. “She must have some sense.”
“But the church part?” Livvy looked puzzled. “What church does she mean?”
“She means a cat,” said Julian.
“And please don’t say all the cats are dead,” said Emma. “I’m not sure I can cope with feline death on a massive scale.”
“Cats actually do okay here,” said Diana. “They’re a little demony themselves.”
Livvy waved her hands. “Can we stick to specifics? What do you mean, a cat?”
“An unusual cat,” said Julian. “His name’s Church. He belonged to Jem Carstairs once, and he used to live with us in the Institute after the Dark War.”
“We can’t go to the Institute,” said Emma. “It’s full of evil Ashdowns.”
“Yeah, but Church was a wandering cat—you remember,” Julian said. “He didn’t really live in the Institute with us. He padded around on the beach and stopped by whenever he felt like it. And he led us where he wanted us to go. If we find Church—he could lead us to Tessa.”
“Tessa and Brother Zachariah did have a foul-tempered cat with them in New York, after the war,” said Livvy.
“I’ll go with you to the beach,” Diana said.
“That means you have to cross the whole city in daylight,” Livvy said. “I don’t like it.”
“Would it be safer to go at night?” said Julian.
“No, that’s even worse,” Livvy said.
“Hey,” said a soft voice.
Emma turned to see a boy with wavy hair and light brown skin looking at them with a mixture of annoyance and—no, it was mostly just annoyance.
“Raphael Santiago?” she said.
She recognized him from the Dark War, from pictures in history books about its heroes. Emma had always thought that Raphael, who had made his famous sacrifice to save Magnus Bane’s life, had an angelic face. The crown of curls, the cross scar at his throat, and the wide eyes in the child-round face were the same. She had not expected the sardonic expression overlaying all that.
“I know who you are,” Emma said.
He didn’t look impressed. “I know who you are too. You’re those Endarkened who always make a disgusting display of yourselves. I realize you are evil, but why can’t you be more discreet?”
“That’s really not us,” said Julian. “Those are different people.”
“So you say,” said Raphael. “This is a stupid plan and you are all going to die. I see all the Angel’s gifts are truly gone, leaving only the Nephilim gift of remarkable short-sightedness. Out of the demonic frying pan, right back into the demonic frying pan.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t answer Tessa’s summons?” said Emma, who was starting to get annoyed.
“Raphael’s just in a bad mood,” said Livvy. She ruffled Raphael’s curly hair. “Aren’t you in a bad mood?” she cooed.
Raphael glared daggers at her. Livvy smiled.
“I didn’t say you should or shouldn’t do anything,” Raphael snapped. “Go ahead and look for Tessa. But you might want my help. You’re a lot more likely to make it across the city if you have transportation. But my help’s not for free.”
“Annoyingly, everything he says is true,” Livvy admitted.
“Okay,” said Julian. “What do you want, vampire?”
“Information,” said Raphael. “In your world, is my city still standing? New York.”
Julian nodded.
“Am I alive?” Raphael said.
“No,” said Emma. There didn’t seem to be any point in beating around the bush.
Raphael paused only for a moment. “Then who is the leader of the New York vampire clan there?” said Raphael.
“Lily Chen,” Emma said.
Raphael smiled, surprising her. It was a real smile, with real fondness in it. Emma felt herself soften. “In our world, you’re a hero. You sacrificed your life so Magnus could live,” she said.
Raphael looked horrified. “Tell me you’re not talking about Magnus Bane. Tell me you’re talking about a much cooler Magnus. I would never do that. If I did do that, I would never want anybody to talk about it. I cannot believe Magnus would shame me by talking about that.”
Julian’s mouth twitched at the corner. “He named his child for you. Rafael Santiago Lightwood-Bane.”
“That is revolting. So everybody knows? I am so embarrassed,” said Raphael. He looked at Diana. “Under a tarp in the garage are several of my motorcycles. Take two of them. Do not crash them or I will be very angry.”
“Noted,” said Diana. “We’ll have them back by nightfall.”
“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Raphael?” said Emma, suddenly struck. “You’re a vampire. It’s daytime.”
Raphael smiled coldly. “Oh, little Shadowhunter,” he said. “Wait until you see the sun.”
* * *
They found the motorcycles in the garage, as Raphael had said they would, and Divya opened the metal door so they could wheel the cycles onto the street. She closed it up quickly after them, and to the sound of the clanging and whirring of gears, Julian looked up and saw the sky.
His first thought was that he should step in front of Emma, protect her somehow from the ruins of the sun. His second was a fragmented memory of a piece of poetry his uncle had taught him. Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day.
The sun was a red-black cinder, glowing dully against a bank of streaky clouds. It cast an ugly light—a reddish-brown light, as if they were seeing the world through blood-tinted water. The air was thick and carried the taste of dirt and copper on it.
They were on what Julian guessed was West Broadway, the street much less crowded than it had been the night before. The occasional shadow slunk in and out of the gaps between buildings, and the convenience store offering blood milk shakes was, surprisingly, open. Something was sitting behind the counter, reading an old magazine, but it wasn’t shaped like a human being.
Trash blew up and down the mostly empty street, carried on the heated wind. This kind of weather came sometimes in Los Angeles, when the wind blew from the desert. Los Angelenos called them “devil winds” or “murder winds.” Maybe they came all the time in Thule.
“You ready?” said Diana, throwing one leg over her cycle and gesturing to the second one.
Julian had never ridden a motorcycle. He was willing to have a whack at it, but Emma had already climbed on. She zipped up the leather jacket she’d taken from the wardrobe and crooked a finger at Julian. “Mark showed me how to ride one of these,” she said. “Remember?”
Julian remembered. He remembered how jealous of Mark he’d been too—Mark, who could flirt with Emma casually. Who could kiss her, embrace her, while Julian had to treat her like a bomb that would explode if he touched her. If they touched each other.
But not here, he reminded himself. This might be hell, but they weren’t parabatai here. He settled himself on the cycle behind Emma and slipped his arms around her waist. She had a Glock thrust through her belt, just like he did.
She reached down to brush her fingers across his clasped hands where they rested above her belt. He ducked his head and kissed the back of her neck.
She shivered.
“Enough, you guys,” Diana said. “Let’s go.”