When she looked up at Lucie, her eyes were thoughtful, a little curious. “So what did you have in mind for this investigation?”
“We must find someone to talk to,” Lucie said, “someone who might know if there really was a warlock involved in Jesse—in what happened to Jesse Blackthorn. Ragnor Fell is in Capri, Malcolm Fade will not speak of what he knows, Magnus Bane is close with my parents.… We need to find another source. I thought perhaps you might speak to—Hypatia Vex?”
She tried not to look too eager. As far as they knew, this mystery mattered to Grace—not to her. Anna raised her eyebrows. Ariadne said nothing, though she didn’t look at all thrilled with the idea.
“Hypatia remains somewhat displeased with me about the way our last encounter ended,” said Anna. “Though not displeased enough to bar me from the Ruelle.” She stood up, stretching like a cat. “I suppose the question is whether I wish to test her patience again or not—”
There was a knock at the door. Jumping down from the desk, Ariadne went to get it. “Oh, goodness,” Lucie heard her say, “and who are you, little man?”
“That’s Neddy,” said Anna, with a wink at Lucie. “Runs about delivering messages for the Merry Thieves and their sundry friends. What is it now?”
“Message from James ’erondale,” said Neddy, ducking into the room. “？’E wants you at ’is house, soon as possible, and ’e wants you to give me a half crown, for my troubles.” He squinted at Lucie. “Same message for you, too, miss,” he said. “Only now as I don’t ’ave to go to the Institute to deliver it, I s’pose that saves me an errand.”
“But not me a half crown,” said Anna, producing the coin as if by magic; Neddy took it with an air of self-satisfaction and scampered out of the room. “What could James want? Do you know, Lucie?”
“No—not at all, but he wouldn’t call us there if it wasn’t important. We can take my carriage; it’s just around the corner.”
“All right.” Anna shrugged on her jacket. Ariadne had returned to sitting on the desk. “Ari, get yourself added to my next patrol. I’ve an idea about Hypatia.”
“But if you’re going to talk to Hypatia, I want to be there too,” Lucie protested. “I know the right questions to ask—”
Anna shot her an amused look. “Don’t fuss, pet. I’ll let you know where we’re meeting Hypatia.”
“Oh, good, a secret message,” Lucie said, pleased. “Will it be in code?”
Anna did not reply; she had started out of the room—then paused in front of Ariadne. She slid a finger under Ariadne’s chin, raised the other girl’s face, and kissed her, hard—Ariadne’s eyes flew wide with surprise before she closed them, surrendering to the moment. Lucie felt her cheeks turn pink.
She looked away, fixing her gaze on the amethyst fire. She could not help but think of Grace, bought and sold as a child as if she’d been a porcelain doll, not a person at all. No wonder she seemed to know so very little about love.
16 DARK BREAKS TO DAWN
And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale
In London’s smokeless resurrection-light,
Dark breaks to dawn.
—Dante Gabriel Rossetti, “Found”
“This is absolutely madness, James,” said Anna, slamming her teacup down on the saucer with enough force to send a crack spidering through the china. She must be quite upset, James thought: her appreciation for fine china was well honed. “How could you even think such a thing?”
James looked around the drawing room. His friends were staring at him from chairs pulled close to the cozy fire. Anna—dapper in a blue waistcoat and black spats—Christopher, wide-eyed, and Thomas, his mouth set in a grim line. Lucie, her hands in her lap, clearly struggling with her emotions and determined not to show it.
“I hadn’t planned to tell you at all,” James said. He had sat in an armchair on the theory that one might as well be comfortable when telling one’s friends one might be engaged in murdering people in one’s sleep. “If there hadn’t been that mark on my windowsill—”
“Is that supposed to make us feel better?” demanded Thomas.
“You didn’t want to tell us because you knew that we would say it was ridiculous,” said Lucie. “You and Cordelia already rid us of Belial.”
“But a Prince of Hell cannot be killed,” James said wearily. He was exhausted down to his bones: he had barely slept the night before, barely eaten, and Grace’s visit had shaken him. He pushed away from thoughts of her now, returning determinedly to the matter at hand. “We all know it. Belial may be much diminished after being wounded by Cortana, but that does not mean his sphere of influence has ended. Something made that mark on my windowsill this morning.”