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“Are you suggesting it’s my personality?” Alastair snapped. “They weren’t attacking me like this before Cordelia handed the sword off to me, and she gave it to me because she didn’t want anyone to know where it was. I suspect these ratty demon creatures are intended as spies, sent by someone looking for Cortana—Lilith, Belial, there’s really an appalling pantheon of villains to choose from.”
“So whoever it is—whoever’s looking for it—they know you have it?”
“They certainly suspect I have it,” said Alastair. “I think I’ve killed all the demons before they could report back definitively. Nothing nastier has shown up to attack me yet, in any case. But it’s not a sustainable way to live.”
Thomas shifted his feet. “Did you, ah, ask me here to help?” he said. “Because I’d be happy to help. We could put a guard on you. Christopher and I could take it in turns, and Anna would surely help—”
“No,” said Alastair.
“Just trying to be helpful,” said Thomas.
“I didn’t ask you here for help. You just happened to turn up right after—” Alastair made a gesture apparently intended to encompass demons hiding in stables, and slid Cortana back into its scabbard at his hip. “I asked you here because I wanted to know why you sent me a note calling me stupid.”
“I didn’t,” Thomas began indignantly, and then recalled, with a moment of freezing horror, what he had written in Henry’s laboratory. Dear Alastair, why are you so stupid and so frustrating, and why do I think about you all the time?
Oh no. But how—?
Alastair produced a burnt piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Thomas. Most of the paper had been charred beyond legibility. What was left read:
Dear Alastair,
why are you so stupid
I brush my teeth
don’t tell anyone
—Thomas
“I don’t know why you don’t want anyone to know you brush your teeth,” Alastair added, “but I will, of course, keep this news in strictest confidence.”
Thomas was torn between a feeling of terrible humiliation and a strange excitement. Of course this would be the one time Christopher’s ridiculous experiment would partially work, but on the other hand—it had partially worked. He couldn’t wait to tell Kit.
“Alastair,” he said. “This writing is just nonsense. Christopher had me scribble some words down for an experiment he was doing.”
Alastair looked dubious. “If you say so.”
“Look,” said Thomas. “Even if you didn’t ask me here to help, I do want to help. I—” I hate the idea of you being in danger. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be constantly attacked by demons, and I doubt Cordelia would have left the sword with you if she thought that would happen.”
“No,” Alastair agreed.
“Why don’t we hide it?” Thomas suggested. “Cortana, I mean.”
“I know, that’s the sensible solution,” said Alastair. “But it’s felt safer to keep it with me, even though I keep being harassed. If it were hidden, I would just constantly worry that whoever’s looking would find it, and then what would I tell Cordelia? And also what if the demon who wanted it used it to destroy the world, or something? I would be mortified. I just can’t think of a hiding place safe enough.”
“Hm. What if I had a hiding place that would be safe enough?”
Alastair raised his dark, arched eyebrows. “Lightwood, as always, you are full of surprises. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Thomas did.
Cordelia emerged from her bedroom, wearing her striped walking dress, to find Matthew buttering a croissant at the breakfast table. The day was bright, daisy-yellow sunshine spilling in through the high, arched windows, turning Matthew’s hair to a halo of spun gold.
“I wasn’t going to wake you,” he said, “as we were up rather late last night.” He leaned back in his chair. “Breakfast?”
The table was covered in a daunting spread of croissants, butter, marmalade, fruit jams and jellies, porridge, bacon and fried potatoes, crumpets, kippers, buttered eggs, and tea. “What army are we feeding?” she inquired, sliding into the chair opposite him.
He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat, so I got everything.”
