Alastair stared at him. Why had Alastair ever dyed his hair? The contrast of his dark eyes and hair with his brown skin was beautiful in the candlelight. “It is my favorite memory of Paris as well.”
“You don’t have to say that. I know you were there with Charles.”
Alastair stiffened. “Charles Fairchild? What about him?”
So Alastair really was going to make him say it. “Wouldn’t that be your best memory of Paris?”
Alastair’s jaw was rigid. “Exactly what are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’ve seen the way you look at Charles, the way he looks at you. I’m not an idiot, Alastair, and I’m asking…” Thomas shook his head, sighing. Nothing about this conversation had been easy—it had felt like a sort of footrace, and now Thomas could see the finish line up ahead. Alastair might prefer to keep lying to himself, but Thomas would not. “I suppose I’m asking if you’re like me.”
* * *
It took two iratzes to heal Matthew’s hand, which had the side effect of somewhat sobering him up. Cordelia had been able to tell, the moment she caught sight of him, that Matthew was quite drunk, and that he had been arguing with James. She knew the look from Elias, recognizing what it was now, as she had not years ago.
Now Matthew’s hand was wrapped in a handkerchief—a makeshift bandage in case the wound reopened. He seemed to have forgotten all about the argument and was deep in conversation with Lucie and Christopher, examining the purchases clanking in Christopher’s market bag.
“I happened on some powdered hemlock root that was being offered at a terrific bargain—even better after I got him to throw in an adder’s tongue.” Christopher pulled it out to show them—a tiny, leathery strip in a glass vial. “Have you lot turned up anything?”
“Nothing worth pursuing,” James said. “No one’s willing to talk about adamas to a pack of Shadowhunters. They assume we’re trying to shut someone down, so they close ranks.”
Whether he had forgotten the argument or not, Cordelia couldn’t tell. The Mask was firmly in place, hiding his thoughts. She wondered if they had been arguing about Thomas—or perhaps the bottle of wine that had lain in shards around their feet? She felt a stir of unease, recalling Matthew’s shaking hands at the Devil when he’d filled his flask. Matthew is not your father, she reminded herself. This is a place of terrible memories for him, that is all, and the others cannot understand.
“The shopkeepers have reason to keep their counsel,” said Christopher. “Nephilim raids have nearly wiped out the Market in the past.”
“Perhaps we ought to start showing people the box,” said Cordelia. “Seeing if they can say anything about the runes.”
“What about someone who deals strictly in real, powerful magical artifacts?” Lucie asked. “There’s quite a bit of junk here but also some real, expensive items. I could have sworn I saw a copy of the Red Scrolls of Magic.”
“Or what about searching for warlocks for hire?” Matthew suggested. “What about—” He pointed. “Hypatia Vex?”
“Hypatia’s here?” Lucie looked puzzled. “But how—？”
They had reached a part of the Market where caravans were set up in a loose circle. In the center of the circle a bonfire of enchanted flames burned: as the sparks rose up, they took on different shapes—roses, stars, towers, crescent moons, even a coach-and-four. Ahead of them, freshly painted in purple and gold, was a caravan with an elaborately lettered advertisement on the side for Hypatia Vex’s new magic shop in Limehouse.
“Can we trust Hypatia?” said James. “She does seem to like Anna, but I’m not sure how far that liking stretches where we’re concerned. Especially since we stole her Pyxis.”
“She did mention that when Cordelia and I were at the Ruelle,” said Matthew, shooting Cordelia a rueful look. “She seemed to have come to terms with it. And she likes me.”
“Does she?” said Cordelia. “I really couldn’t tell.”
“Shadowhunters!” called a voice, rising above the noise of the Market. Cordelia turned to see Magnus Bane standing in the doorway of the purple-and-gold caravan. He wore a fitted silver frock coat, brilliant peacock-blue trousers, and a matching embroidered waistcoat, with a watch on a glittering chain tucked into one pocket. Silver cuff links glittered at his wrists, and he wore a silver ring set with a luminous blue stone. “What on earth are you doing, wandering around the Shadow Market like chickens waiting to get your heads cut off? Come inside immediately.”