Lucie and Christopher sat side by side on a sofa in front of Thomas, like two small children being scolded by their parents. Both had their hands folded in their laps, though when she caught sight of Cordelia, Lucie couldn’t help but wave. “Thank the Angel, you’re all here! Isn’t it awful?”
Cordelia joined Lucie and Christopher on the old sofa. When she sank gratefully into the well-worn feather cushions, a puff of dust drifted into the air to join the comforting smells of old books and incense. Despite the circumstances, it was good to be back in these familiar rooms. Cordelia watched James take a seat in one of the sagging brocade armchairs and Matthew his usual spot in the corner. While they were settling in, Lucie touched Cordelia’s hand.
“We were just telling Thomas he oughtn’t patrol,” she said earnestly. “At least not alone. Not with what happened to Basil Pounceby.”
“And Amos Gladstone,” said Christopher. “Two deaths in such a short time, both killed on patrol—it seems reasonable they might be connected.”
“Or it might just be bad luck.” Thomas threw up his arms. “Patrol is always going to be dangerous. That’s just part of the job, like demons and Alastair Carstairs—” He broke off, turning bright red. “Ah, Cordelia, I—”
She smiled pleasantly. “Did you just remember that Alastair is my brother?”
“Yes. No,” Thomas said. He looked around at his friends beseechingly.
“Oh, no,” said James. “You have to get yourself out of this one, Tom.”
Thomas turned to Cordelia, making her suddenly aware how very tall he was. She had to stretch back her neck to look up at him. “Cordelia, I—I have owed you an apology for some time. I may have my own issues with Alastair, but I’m sorry I was rude to him at your wedding. It was unforgivable. I like you very much and consider you a friend. Though I cannot forgive Alastair, I will treat him politely for your sake. I should never have suggested otherwise.”
“Well,” Cordelia said. “Thank you. Though I agree that you shouldn’t be patrolling alone right now.”
Thomas opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “May I have your permission to shout, keeping in mind I am not shouting at you?” he said to Cordelia.
“Oh, quite,” she said. “I like a good shouting in general.”
“Yes,” agreed Lucie. “Shout at Matthew if you like.”
“Thank you very much, Luce,” said Matthew.
“Stop,” said James. They all looked at him in surprise. “We need to discuss what we’re dealing with before we argue about who’s going on patrol and when. Patrol is meant to be about demons, and Math told me the Enclave is already thinking this wasn’t a demon’s doing—”
“WHAT?” said Thomas, so loudly they all jumped. “Sorry,” he said. “I was all prepared to shout and I hadn’t got a chance yet.”
“What makes them say it wasn’t a demon?” Christopher asked thoughtfully.
“Pounceby was stabbed at least thirty times with a sharp blade,” Matthew said. “Demons don’t carry weapons.”
“It could have been a demon with very pointy talons,” Christopher argued, “or—it could have been a demon with a knife face.” He looked around eagerly.
“Knife face?” Matthew echoed. “That’s your argument?”
“Yes,” said Christopher stubbornly. “It could have some sort of facial protuberance. Maybe several. Like a long, pointy nose with a sharp edge.”
“There wasn’t any residue of demonic activity, either, on the bodies or at the sites,” said Matthew. “A demon would leave behind some kind of trace.”
“What about a Sighted mundane?” suggested Lucie. “Maybe he didn’t even know what he was seeing. He could have been drunk. Or mad. Maybe he was stumbling about in the dark, saw a Shadowhunter, and perceived he was some kind of threat.”
“Or it could be another Shadowhunter,” Matthew said. “Don’t look at me like that—we have to consider the possibility. After all, people commit murder for all kinds of reasons.”
“Like what?” James said skeptically.
“I don’t know—maybe Basil was a rival for someone’s affections, or the object of a grudge. Or someone resented him for creating Augustus. No one would be surprised. For that matter, it could have been Alastair.”
“Matthew,” Cordelia said furiously. “Must we keep bringing up my brother? Alastair may be many things, but he is not a murderer.”