There is more than that, said the familiar, silent voice of Jem, who had just come into the library with Lucie. His parchment-colored robes were spotted with blood at the sleeves, his hood drawn back to show his face—his scarred cheeks, his dark hair streaked with white. James felt a wave of relief at the sight of him; he hadn’t realized quite how stressful it had been to have Jem away, in a place he could not be reached. You would have to explain how it is that Jesse Blackthorn is covered in exactly the runes that are missing from the bodies of the murdered. Filomena di Angelo’s Strength rune. Elias Carstairs’s Voyance rune. Lilian Highsmith’s Precision rune. Every one is a match.
A murmur ran around the room as Will smiled at Jem. It was a smile James knew well: the very specific smile Will had only for his parabatai. If it was odd to see someone smile at a Silent Brother like that, the oddness had long since faded for James; this was his father and his uncle Jem, as he had always known them.
When Jem crossed the room to speak quietly to Will, Lucie stayed where she was; she smiled at her parents but did not run to embrace them. She seemed to be learning restraint, James thought; he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Lucie’s exuberance had always been so much a part of her.
“Lilian Highsmith knew her killer,” said Bridgestock, raising his voice to be heard over the buzzing gossip in the room. “She recognized him. The Lightwood boy swore to it under the Sword. How would she have known Tatiana’s brat?”
“She didn’t,” said Lucie. “She thought he was his father, Rupert. They looked exactly alike, and Lilian knew the Blackthorns—she would have recognized Rupert.” She met James’s eyes across the room: he thought of Elias, who must also have thought he was seeing a man he’d known years ago—a man he’d thought was dead.
You?
“That’s why Miss Highsmith said what she did,” said Thomas. “？‘He was dead, dead in his prime. His wife, she wept and wept. I remember her tears.’ Rupert was married when he died. She meant Tatiana.”
“Tragedy begets tragedy,” said Tessa. “Rupert Blackthorn died, and his son died, and it drove Tatiana Blackthorn mad. She refused to allow her son the protection spells of a Shadowhunter, and so created a vessel that could be possessed. She is a tragic figure, but also dangerous.”
“Hopefully she is not a danger to the Sisters in the Adamant Citadel,” said Alastair smoothly. “The Inquisitor was quite merciful to send her there, and not to the Silent City. Hopefully that mercy will be rewarded.”
Martin Wentworth made a rude noise. “She doesn’t need mercy,” he said. “She needs interrogating. Do we really think she had no knowledge of this situation?”
The Inquisitor was spluttering silently. Mrs. Bridgestock, who had been standing quietly among the Pouncebys, said, “What about Grace? If this… murderous demon knows she exists—if it preyed on her brother—”
“Grace was born a Cartwright,” Ariadne said, startling everyone. “Her parents were devoted Shadowhunters. She would have had the protection spells, years before Tatiana even met her.”
The Inquisitor swept his cloak around himself. “I will leave tonight. I must go to the Adamant Citadel and request a formal audience with Tatiana Blackthorn. She will have to be brought out of the Citadel by the other Sisters, for no man can enter the place. But Wentworth is right—it is time to interrogate her.”
As if he had called an end to civility, a hubbub of voices erupted—questions and demands:
But which demon was it, possessing the boy? What if it returns?
Well, so what if it does? Without a body, it’s just a disembodied demon, isn’t it?
How’d it get the runes off the bodies? James, do you know?
What demon has the power to call up a Prince of Hell? How would they expect to control him?
Demons don’t think that far ahead—do they?
Will, who’d been sitting with his boots on a chair, kicked it over. It hit the ground with a crash that, to James’s surprise, brought an immediate silence.
“Enough,” Will said firmly. “As many of you know, the Consul is currently in the infirmary with her injured son. She has sent word, however, with Brother Zachariah.” He inclined his head to Jem. “She’s invested me with the power to open a formal inquiry into this matter, which I will be doing. Tomorrow. For now, everyone who is not injured or the family of someone injured, please return home. There is no indication of further danger, and a great deal of work must now be undertaken. The Clave in Idris must be notified, and repair work begun. For this is our Institute, and we will let no Prince of Hell turn it to ruins.”