Lucie knew that long ago, the place had been a curiosity shop owned by a faerie named Sallows. It had fallen into disuse after his death, but now the floors had been sanded and given a fresh coat of wax, and the walls were painted in scarlet and blue. A series of floor-to-ceiling shelves were already filled with merchandise, and a long display case served as the shop counter. Behind it stood Hypatia, dressed in a flowing purple gown with black silk frog closures. She had a pair of small spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose and was going through a stack of bills and invoices, muttering under her breath.
Anna and Ariadne had already arrived—Anna was leaning against the counter, examining her gloves as if searching for a flaw in the leather. Ariadne, dressed in gear, was looking in fascination at a dollhouse on one of the shelves in which small, living dolls—faeries, perhaps?—darted from room to room, playing tiny musical instruments and sleeping in Lilliputian beds.
“Lucie,” Anna said, looking up with a smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d read my note.”
“I did—only I was a bit delayed at the Shadow Market,” said Lucie.
“What an exciting life you do lead,” Anna said. “Now, mind your manners. Hypatia thinks the workmen have been cheating her, and she isn’t in a good mood.”
“I can hear you,” Hypatia snapped, scowling. “Never hire gnome workmen, Herondale. They will overcharge you for lumber.”
Being overcharged for lumber was not the sort of thing that happened to heroines in books. Lucie sighed inwardly—she’d hoped that by the time she’d gotten there, Anna would have charmed Hypatia into a good mood. Clearly, that hadn’t happened. She hesitated, wondering how much she should say. Anna knew more than Ariadne about what Lucie and the others had been up to, but neither girl had any idea of the true purpose of Lucie’s mission.
“Madame Vex,” Lucie said, “we’ve come because we need your help.”
Hypatia looked up from her bills. Some of her cloudlike hair had escaped the colorful scarf she’d used to tie it back, and there were ink stains on her hands. “Do you Shadowhunters ever come for any other reason? And I see you sent Anna to wheedle me.” She eyed Anna. “While I am quite fond of her, the last time we dallied, your friends ran off with my Pyxis box. It was an antique.”
“It had a demon in it,” Anna pointed out. “We probably did you a favor taking it safely off your hands.”
“The demon,” Hypatia said, “was also an antique. Regardless, I am not available for dalliances at the moment. I have a gentleman caller.”
Anna had finished her inspection of her glove. She smiled at Hypatia, and Lucie marveled—despite the Pyxis, despite Hypatia’s gentleman caller, she could see the warlock soften just a bit. Anna’s charm was a magical thing. “Speaking of gentleman callers,” she said. “There’s something I brought to show you.” From inside her jacket, Anna produced a small silver snuffbox, engraved with the initials MB in blocky script. “This belongs to our mutual friend Magnus Bane. He has been looking for it for quite some time.”
“You stole Magnus Bane’s snuffbox?” said Ariadne. “Anna, that could not possibly be a good idea. He’ll set you on fire. Magic fire.”
“Of course I didn’t,” said Anna, turning the small box over in her hands. “As it happens, my boot maker—a fine gentleman, one of the Tanner family—once had une liaison passionnée with Magnus. Boot makers are a surprisingly tempestuous bunch. When things ended badly between them, the boot maker pinched Magnus’s snuffbox, knowing he was fond of it.” She smiled at Hypatia. “I thought you might like to give it back to him. I’m sure he would be most grateful.”
Hypatia raised a dark eyebrow. “And how did you know that Mr. Bane is my gentleman caller? I thought we’d been rather discreet.”
“I know everything,” said Anna matter-of-factly.
Hypatia eyed the snuffbox. “I can see that you are not offering me something for nothing. What do you want?”
“To speak with you about an issue having to do with warlocks,” Anna said. “An old issue, recently—disinterred, so to speak. The death of a Shadowhunter boy named Jesse Blackthorn.”
Hypatia looked alarmed. “You think a warlock harmed a Shadowhunter child? You can’t imagine I’d—”
Lucie winced inwardly. She almost wished she could explain to Hypatia that it was the nameless warlock’s involvement in what had happened to Jesse after he died that she most needed to understand. She knew that was impossible, though: if anyone learned what she knew, what Grace knew, the danger to Jesse’s continued existence would be immense.