“Where are they all?” Anna murmured. They were passing through a tunnel, which widened out into a large square. At each cardinal point of the square rose a spire of carved bone. Alternating squares of red and bronze, like a checkerboard, made up the floor. Their witchlights gave the only illumination; the torches set in brackets along the walls had long burned out.
“Perhaps out in London,” Ari said. Her witchlight danced over a pattern of silver stars set into the floor. “They have no real need to occupy the Silent City, I suppose.”
“I would have thought they would at least be on guard against anyone entering,” said Anna. “Let me see the map again.”
They bent their heads over it. “We are in the Pavilion of Truth, here,” Ari said, pointing. “Usually the Mortal Sword would be on the wall—”
“But it’s in Idris, thankfully,” said Anna. “Here—through these rows of mausoleums—it’s marked on the map. Path of the Dead.”
Ari nodded slowly. As she fell into step beside Anna, she thought it seemed as if she’d barely taken a real breath since they’d entered the Silent City. The scent on the air—ashes and stone—was a cold reminder of the previous time she’d been here, when she had nearly died from the poison of a Mandikhor demon. The experience had not given her any desire to return.
They continued through stone halls that led them to a vaulted room filled with mausoleums, many with Shadowhunter names or symbols carved above their stone doors. They cut down a narrow path between CROSSKILL and RAVENSCROFT and ducked through a narrow dark archway like a keyhole—
And found themselves in a long corridor. Long was barely enough of a descriptor: witchlight sconces on both sides of the tunnel formed an arrow of light that receded until the distance was too far for human eyes. Something about it made Ari shudder. Maybe it was only that the rest of the Silent City’s tunnels had a more organic quality, often following unusual paths that Ari had assumed were accidents of geology. But this one felt alien and strange, as if a vein of peculiar magic ran beneath its floor of stone.
As they made their way down it, they passed runes carved into the walls: runes of death and mourning, but also runes of transformation and change. There were other runes too, bearing the sort of odd patterning that Ari saw when a Portal was made. They seemed to flare up as Anna and Ari neared them, before receding into the shadows. These, Ari suspected, were the runes that made the tunnel what it was: a telescoped version of real distance, a peculiar shortcut through time and space that would allow them to—at least, as they would perceive it—walk from London to Iceland in less than a day.
Every once in a while they would pass a door with a rune carved into it, or a narrow passageway that snaked off into the dark. There was no sound but their footsteps until Anna said, “You know, when I was a child, I thought I would be an Iron Sister.”
“Really?” said Ari. “It seems like quite a lot of routine, for you. And a lot of taking orders.”
“Sometimes I like taking orders,” said Anna, sounding amused.
“No flirting in the Silent City,” Ari said, though she felt a little shiver down her spine, as she always did when Anna teased her. “I am fairly sure that there is a Law about it.”
“I thought I would like to make weapons,” Anna said. “It seemed the opposite of wearing dresses and going to parties. In any case, it only lasted until I found out I would have to go live on a lava plain. I asked my mother if I would still be able to get my favorite chocolates there, and she said she doubted it very much. So that was enough for me.” She paused, all lightness gone from her voice. “Do you hear that?”
Ari nodded grimly. The sound of footsteps came from up ahead—many footsteps, marching in a regular tread. She narrowed her eyes but could see only shadows—and then a flash of something white. Watchers’ robes.
“Quick,” Ari whispered. They were near one of the narrow passageways leading off the tunnel; she caught hold of Anna’s sleeve and ducked into it, pulling Anna after her.
The passage was barely wide enough for both of them to stand facing each other. Ari could hear the sound of marching feet getting louder, an odd reminder that though the Chimera demons possessed the bodies of Silent Brothers and Iron Sisters, they were not them; they did not have their powers or skills.
She crouched down and peered into the corridor. There they were—a large group of Watchers, fifty or more, their death-white robes swirling around their feet as if they had been born out of smoke. They moved down the passage with blind determination, their jagged staffs in hand.
“Let me go,” Anna said, and tried to push past Ari. “We know how to kill them now—”
“No!” Ari didn’t think; she caught hold of Anna and yanked her back, nearly flinging her up against the wall. They had both doused their witchlights, and there was little illumination in the passage, but Ari could still see the fury in Anna’s blue eyes.
“We can’t just let them go,” Anna said. “We can’t just let them—”
“Anna. Please. There are far too many of them. And only two of us.”
“Not you.” Anna shook her head violently. “You need to get to the Iron Tombs. One of us does. I cannot kill them all, but think how many I could take before—”
“Before you die?” Ari hissed. “Is this a way to honor Christopher?”
Rage flashed across Anna’s face—rage directed at herself, Ari guessed. “I couldn’t protect him. I wasn’t ready for an attack. But at least I can stand against these creatures now—”
“No,” Ari said. “The responsibility for Christopher’s death is Belial’s. They are a horror, the Watchers, because of whose bodies have been possessed. But Chimeras are just demons. Like any other demons. They are the instruments of Belial, and it is Belial we must defeat.”
“Let me go, Ari,” Anna said, her eyes burning. If Ari turned her head just a little bit, she could see the Watchers, a white flood passing by the narrow mouth of the passageway. “It will not be my hand that slays Belial, if he can even be slain. Let me do this, at least—”
“No.” The determination in Ari’s voice surprised even her. “It may be Cordelia’s sword that kills Belial. But all of us stand behind her. Everything we have done, everything we have accomplished, has made us part of the force that drives her blade. Nor is our task done. We are still needed, Anna. You are still needed.”
Very slowly, Anna nodded.
Carefully, Ari let go of Anna, praying she was right about the look in Anna’s eyes. Praying that Anna would not bolt. And Anna didn’t—only remained very still, her back flat against the wall, her eyes fixed on Ari, as the sound of the Watchers receded into the distance.
* * *
A cracked road, the remains of a once-impressive boulevard lined by shade trees, led Cordelia and Lucie to the base of the hill that loomed over Idumea. Before they started up, Cordelia glanced over at Lucie a last time. This was it—their final push, the final approach to Lilith’s palace. Edom and Idumea had already taken such a toll on Lucie. Did she have the strength for this?