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“Be careful,” said James. “You sound just like Mother used to before she gave us a scolding about something or other.”
Lucie dropped her hand with a little shriek. “I do not,” she said. “Though, speaking of parents, do you remember when we bought that enormous guinea pig? And then when Mama and Papa found out, we told them it was a special gift from the Lima Institute?”
“Ah yes, Spots,” said James. “I remember him well. He bit me.”
“He bit everyone,” said Lucie dismissively. “I’m sure he intended it as a compliment. My point is, that story worked because you and I had the same story and were working from the same information.”
“So true,” said James. He was pleased to realize that as low as he felt, he could still wind his sister up. “Halcyon memories of a golden past.”
“And,” went on Lucie impatiently, “I have no idea how much you’ve said to Father—about anything—even though you know everything I’ve told, and anyway, it isn’t fair. Or a good idea.”
“Well, I told them—Magnus, too—most everything, I think.” James sat down on the bed. “Everything I knew, anyway. Whatever gaps I might have left in their knowledge, I expect they’ve been filled in by the events of last night.”
“Everything?” Lucie demanded.
“Nothing about Cordelia,” James allowed. “Nothing about Lilith, or paladins, or—any of that.”
“Good.” Lucie relaxed a fraction. “I don’t think we can tell them, can we? It’s Cordelia’s secret. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”
“Agreed,” said James. “Look, Luce—why did you never tell me about Jesse? I don’t mean about trying to raise him,” he said quickly, as Lucie began to protest. “I understand not telling me about that. You knew I wouldn’t like it, and you knew I wouldn’t like that you were working with Grace.”
“You wouldn’t,” Lucie said.
“I still don’t,” James admitted, “but I understand why you felt like you had to do it. But why did you never tell me you could see Jesse, or that he existed at all?”
Lucie, with an uncharacteristic shyness, kicked at a dust ball with the toe of her shoe. “I suppose… I knew there was something strange about being able to see him. Something dark and uncanny. Something people wouldn’t like.”
“Luce, I know better than anyone else what it means to have a power other people find unsettling. Even grotesque.”
She looked up quickly. “You’re not grotesque, Jamie, or horrible, or anything like that—”
“Our powers come from the same place,” James said. “Belial. Who would understand better than I would, how one struggles with that? I have to believe I can do good even with a power that comes from darkness. I believe that for myself, and I believe it for you, too.”
Lucie blinked quickly, then sat down beside James on the bed. They remained there for a moment in comfortable silence, their shoulders touching. “James,” she said at last. “Jesse is going to need you. There are things you can help him with that—that I can’t. Being possessed by Belial, having the Marks of dead Shadowhunters on his skin. It’s hurting him. I can see it in his eyes.”
So can I, James thought. “I can talk to him. When we get back to London.”
Lucie smiled. It was a quiet sort of grown-up smile, a bit sad, a smile James did not associate with his little sister. But she had changed, he supposed. They all had. “Papa told me,” she said. “About Cordelia. And Matthew. That they went to Paris together. He seemed to think you didn’t mind, but I—” She turned to look at him. “Do you mind?”
“Desperately,” James said. “More than I ever thought I would mind about anything.”
“So you don’t love Grace?”
“No. No,” James said. “I don’t think I ever did. I—” For a moment, he stood on the precipice, wanting to tell his sister the truth. It was a spell, I never cared for her, those feelings were forced upon me. But it would not do to tell Lucie before he had told Cordelia. Cordelia had to know first. “Do you think Cordelia loves him? Matthew, I mean. If she does…”
“I know,” Lucie said. “If she does, you’ll go away quietly and leave them to their happiness. Believe me, I am well acquainted with the self-sacrificing nature of Herondale men. But—if she feels anything for Matthew, she’s never given a sign of it to me, or said anything about it. Still…”
James tried to look politely inquiring.
“Still,” Lucie said. “Paris is a romantic place. I’d get myself over there and tell Cordelia what you really feel, posthaste.” To make her point, she punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t dawdle.”
“You hit me,” James said. “Must you hit me for emphasis?”
There was a knock, and Magnus leaned in through the open doorway. “I hate to interrupt this moment of beautiful sibling amity,” he said, “but Malcolm would like to speak with all of us downstairs.”
Malcolm was sitting on a chair by the fireplace when Lucie and James came downstairs. He had an enormous book on his lap, bound in black leather with hammered metal reinforcements along the corners. He was still wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing the night before.
Magnus and Jesse were on the sofa, while Will paced slowly back and forth behind them, his brow crinkled in thought. Jesse gave Lucie a tight smile; she knew he meant to be reassuring, but his own worry showed through clearly. She wished she could cross the room and hug him but knew it would only scandalize her brother, her father, and the two warlocks in attendance. She would have to wait.
