Chain of Gold (14 page)

It might,
Jem said. He seemed tense, if one could ever describe a Silent Brother as tense.
Barbara was still conscious when I arrived here. She whispered to me of you—

“Of me?” James was startled.

She said, “James must be protected.” Did you turn into a shadow at the lake?

“No,” James said. “I saw the shadow realm last night—and again today—but I did not become a shadow myself. I was able to control it.”

Jem relaxed minutely.
James,
he said.
You know that I have been trying to discover which Greater Demon your grandfather was. Your ability—

“It's not an ability,” James said. “It's a curse.”

It is not a curse.
Jem's tone was sharp.
It is not a curse any more than the magic warlocks do is a curse, or the ability your mother has is a curse.

“You have always said it is dangerous,” said James.

Some gifts are dangerous. And it is a gift, though it may come from the bloodline of fallen angels.

“A gift I cannot use for anything,” James said. “Last night at the party, when I slipped into darkness—I saw Barbara pulled to the ground by a shadow. Then today at the lake she was dragged to earth by a demon with its teeth in her leg.” He set his jaw. “I don't know what it means. Nor did the visions help me, or allow me to help Barbara or the others.” He hesitated. “Perhaps if we went back to the lessons—we could learn more about the shadow realm, whether it is perhaps trying to give me some sort of sign—”

It would be wise for us to continue the lessons, yes,
Jem said.
But we cannot begin now. The poison consuming those who were attacked is like nothing I have ever seen, nor do the other Brothers know it. We must bend all our will now to finding the cure.

The door opened, and Will stuck his head into the music room. He looked weary, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, his shirt stained with tinctures and salve. Still, he smiled when he saw James and Jem. “Is everything all right?”

“Uncle Jem was worried about me,” said James. “But I am quite well.”

Will came up to his son and pulled him into a quick, rough
hug. He said, “I am glad to hear it, Jamie
bach
. Gideon and Sophie have arrived, and to see them with Barbara—” He kissed the top of James's head. “It does not bear thinking of.”

I should return to the infirmary,
said Jem.
There is much still for me to do.

Will nodded, releasing James. “I know Gideon and Sophie would feel better if you were the one tending Barbara. Not to insult Brother Shadrach, who I'm sure is an excellent and well-respected member of the Brotherhood.”

Jem shook his head, which was as close as he got to smiling, and the three of them left the music room. To James's surprise, Thomas was waiting in the corridor outside, looking hollow-eyed.

Will exchanged a quick glance with James and left his son alone with Thomas. It was good, James thought, to have a father who understood the significance of friendship.

Thomas spoke as soon as the adults were out of earshot. “My parents are here,” he said, in a low voice. “James, I need something to do. Something that might help my sister. I think I might go mad otherwise.”

“Of course—we all must help Barbara,” said James. “Thomas, in the park, Barbara saw the demons before everyone else. She was the one who warned me.”

“She had perfect Sight even before she got her Voyance rune,” Thomas said. “Perhaps because my mother was a Sighted mundane before she became a Shadowhunter. We've never been sure—Barbara wasn't terribly interested in testing her abilities—but she always had unusually keen senses.”

“It is almost as if she could glimpse my shadow realm,” James murmured, remembering what Barbara had said: that she had been able to see ragged black shapes at the ball, that she had felt herself drawn down. An idea had begun to take shape in his mind. He wondered if he should go back and speak of it to Jem, but no—Jem
would never let him do it. He would think it was too dangerous. Reckless, even.

But James was feeling reckless, and from the look of it, Thomas was too. “We need to round up Matthew and Christopher,” James said. “I have an idea of what we can do.”

Some of the color came back to Thomas's face. “Christopher has just returned from Chiswick,” he said. “I saw him in the entry hall. But as for Matthew…”

Cordelia had determined to make herself useful in the infirmary. It was the only way she could be sure she wouldn't be tossed out on her ear. After all, none of the wounded were her relatives or even her friends. And she wasn't likely to be making many new friends at this rate.

Lucie had been recruited for duty as well. Dozens of labeled jars and pots had been taken down from the cupboards behind the marble-topped counter where Tessa was presiding over the dispensing of ingredients for tinctures and potions. Cordelia's own hands had been slathered in salve and wrapped in bandages; they looked like white paws as she handled the mortar and pestle she'd been given.

The front of the infirmary was taken up with those who had scratches, sprains, and burns. The tinctures and salves were mostly for them: Lucie was busy handing them out, her cheerful flow of chatter audible above the low hum of other conversation. A screen had been pulled in front of the far end of the room, and Cordelia was almost glad for it: it was too awful to see Sophie and Gideon Lightwood break down by Barbara's bedside, or even Rosamund sitting silently by her brother. Cordelia was sorry she had ever harbored uncharitable thoughts toward the Wentworths. No one deserved this.

“It's all right.” Tessa's voice was gentle. James's mother was busy finely chopping mugwort into a bowl; she cast a sympathetic
glance at Cordelia. “I have seen the Silent Brothers bring people back from much worse.”

Cordelia shook her head. “I have not. I suppose I have been very sheltered.”

“We all have been, for a time,” said Tessa. “The natural state of Shadowhunters is battle. When it is always ongoing, there is no time to stop and think that it is not an ideal condition for happiness. Shadowhunters are not suited to a halcyon state, yet we have had that time for the past decade or so. Perhaps we had begun to think ourselves invincible.”

“People are only invincible in books,” said Cordelia.

“I think you will find most of the time, not even then,” said Tessa. “But at least we can always pick up a book and read it anew. Stories offer a thousand fresh starts.”

It was true, Cordelia thought. She had read the story of Layla and Majnun a thousand times, and each time the beginning was a thrill, even though she knew—and dreaded—the end.

“The only equivalent in real life is memory,” Tessa said, looking up as Will Herondale came into the room, followed by Cousin Jem. “But memories can be bitter as well as sweet.”

Will smiled at his wife—James's parents always looked at each other with such love, it was nearly painful to see—before heading toward the small group of Lightwoods gathered around Barbara. Cordelia heard them greet him, and Sophie's worried tones, but her gaze was on Jem. He had come toward the counter and was reaching for several jars of mixed herbs. It was now or never.

“Cousin Jem,” Cordelia whispered. “I need to speak with you.”

Jem glanced up in surprise. Cordelia tried not to start; it was always strange to see a Silent Brother this close. She remembered all the times her mother had suggested her father go to the Basilias, the Shadowhunter hospital in Alicante, to cure his lingering illness. Elias had always insisted he did not wish to go anywhere where he
would be surrounded by Silent Brothers. They rattled his nerves, he claimed; most of them were like creatures of ice and blood. Ivory robes marked in red, skin drained of color, scarred with red runes. Most were without hair and worse, had their eyes sewn shut, their sockets sunken and hollow.

Jem did not look like that. His face was young and very still, like the face of a knight from the Crusades carved on a marble tomb. His hair was a tangle of black and white threads. His eyes were permanently shut, as if in prayer.

Are you all right, Cordelia?
asked Jem's voice in her mind.

Tessa immediately moved to shield the two of them from the gaze of the rest of the sickroom. Cordelia tried to appear as if she were absolutely fascinated with her mortar and pestle, energetically mashing together feverfew and goldenseal.

“Please,” she whispered. “Have you seen Baba—my father—in Idris? How is he? When can he come home?”

There was a long pause.

I have seen him,
said Cousin Jem.

For a moment, Cordelia let herself remember her father, truly remember him. Her father had taught her to fight. Her father had his faults, but he was never cruel, and when he did pay Cordelia some mind, his attention made her feel ten feet tall. It often felt as though Alastair and Sona were made of different stuff than Cordelia, glass or metal with edges that could cut, but Elias was the one who was like her.

Memories can be bitter as well as sweet.

She murmured, “You are a Silent Brother. I know my father was not always welcoming to you—”

Never think I am resentful of the distance he kept,
said Jem.
I would do anything I could for you and our family.

“He wrote me a note, asking me to believe in him. He says he is not responsible for what happened. Can't you make the Clave believe him too?”

There was a long pause.
I cannot assure the Clave of what I do not know myself,
said Jem.

“They must ask him what happened,” said Cordelia. “They
must
try the Mortal Sword. Will they?”

Jem hesitated. Cordelia saw that Lucie was approaching them, just as she realized she had mashed the herbs in the mortar into green sludge.

“Daisy,” Lucie said in a low voice. This struck Cordelia as alarming. Lucie could rarely be convinced to whisper about anything. “Could you come with me a moment? I very much need your assistance.”

“Of course,” Cordelia said, a bit hesitantly. “It is only that—”

She turned toward Jem, hoping to get his answer to her question. But he had already vanished into the crowded sickroom.

“Where are we going?” Cordelia whispered, as they hurried along the corridors of the Institute. “Lucie. You cannot simply abduct me, you know.”

“Nonsense,” said Lucie. “If I wished to abduct you, you can be sure that I would do it quite expertly, no doubt beneath the veil of silence and darkness.” They had reached the vestibule; Lucie took down a cloak from a peg on the wall and handed another to Cordelia. “Besides, I told my father I was taking you home in the carriage because you faint at the sight of blood.”

“Lucie!”
Cordelia followed her friend out into the courtyard. The sun had only just set, and the evening was brushed with a steel-blue patina. The yard was crowded with carriages, each bearing the crest of a Shadowhunter family.

“Not every bit of a good story is true,” said Lucie. Her cheeks were bright pink. The air had become chill; Cordelia pulled her cloak around her. “It's the story that's important.”

“I don't want to go home, though,” Cordelia pointed out, as she and Lucie wove their way through the crowd of carriages. She squinted. “Is someone
singing
inside the Baybrook carriage?”

Lucie waved a dismissive hand. “Of course you're not going home. You're coming with me on an adventure.” She waved at something half-hidden behind the Wentworth carriage. “Bridget!”

It was indeed Bridget, her graying red hair wound into a chignon, having clearly just finished readying the Institute's brougham and a fresh horse—Balios's brother Xanthos. The two were a matched pair. Cordelia had heard a great deal about them growing up. Lucie went instantly to pat Xanthos's soft, white-speckled nose; Cordelia tried to smile at Bridget, who was eyeing them both suspiciously.

“Carriage all ready for you, Miss Baggage,” Bridget said to Lucie. “Try to not get in trouble. It fusses your parents.”

“I'm just taking Cordelia home,” Lucie said, blinking innocently. Bridget wandered off, muttering about finding certain people stuck in certain trees while sneaking out of certain windows. Lucie bent to whisper something in Xanthos's ear before gesturing for Cordelia to join her in the carriage. “It's all glamoured,” she explained, as the brougham rattled under the open gate and into the streets of London. “It would just upset the mundanes to see a carriage racing about with no driver.”

“So the horse knows where to take us?” Cordelia settled back against the upholstered bench seat. “But it's
not
to Cornwall Gardens?”

Lucie shook her head. “Balios and Xanthos are special horses. And we're going to Chiswick House.”

Cordelia stared. “Chiswick House? We're going to see Grace and Tatiana? Oh, Lucie, I don't know—”

Lucie held up a hand. “There could be a time—a short time—during which you may have to distract them. But it is not a social call. I am on a mission.”

Cordelia did not think Grace seemed the sort of person who could be easily distracted. “I shan't,” she said firmly. “Not unless you tell me what this mission is.”

Lucie was silent a moment, her face small and pale in the shadows of the carriage. “You know I can see ghosts,” she said, and hesitated.

Cordelia blinked. It was the last thing she'd expected Lucie to say. Ghosts were something all Shadowhunters knew existed, and when ghosts wanted to be seen, most Nephilim could see them. But the Herondales had a special ability: Will, James, and Lucie could all see ghosts that
didn't
want to be seen. “Yes, but what—?”

“A ghost told me—” Lucie broke off for a moment. “Jessamine told me there is a ghost at Chiswick House that might know about these daylight demons,” she said at last. “Daisy, I have to do something for Barbara and the others. I cannot just sit about passing out tinctures. If there is anything I can do to help, I must do it.”