had been up for hours, first in the sickroom and then in the library. James and Lucie had stayed with Thomas as long as they could, until he had returned to Christopher’s house, silent with grief and exhaustion. Afterward, Lucie had gone off to the library to look after Alexander, but James had returned to his room. He had always been the sort who bore his pains privately.
Will ruffled James’s hair and said something about being needed elsewhere before slipping out of the room. When he was gone, James sat back down at his desk and glanced up at his uncle Jem.
You sent for me? Jem said.
“Yes. I need to tell you something. Or perhaps ask you something. I am not sure which.”
Is this about Barbara? Or the others? asked Jem. We do not know why she died, James. We think the poison reached her heart. Piers and Ariadne remain in a stable condition, but the Brothers’ need to find a cure has become even more desperate.
James thought of the blood Christopher had taken from the infirmary, the laboratory in the house on Grosvenor Square. He knew Christopher was doing all he could to find a cure for the demon poison, but he couldn’t help but hope Henry would come back from Idris soon to lend aid. Not to mention there was the matter of the dirt James had found in the shadow realm.…
“I sent the message to you before I knew about Barbara,” James said, dragging his thoughts back to the present. “I feel foolish now. My problems do not measure up to those—”
Tell me why you sent for me, said Jem. I will be the judge of whether or not it was important.
James hesitated. “I cannot tell you all of it,” he said, “for reasons I cannot explain entirely. Only know that I encountered a demon, who told me that my grandfather was a Prince of Hell.” He glanced up at his uncle’s face. “Did you know that?”
The white streak in Jem’s hair danced as he shook his head. As I’ve been searching for your grandfather’s name, I’ve heard a great many stories from different sources. There was one, a warlock woman, who told me he was a Prince of Hell. But there were also others who named different demons. Since I did not know who to trust, I thought it better not to burden your family until I was sure of the truth.
“Perhaps a clue could be found in the shadow realm,” said James. “I’m seeing it more and more, just as there seem to be more demons in London. If there’s some connection—”
Did the demons at the lake speak to you? Mention your grandfather?
James shook his head.
I assume the demon who identified your grandfather was the Cerberus demon in the greenhouse in Chiswick, said Jem. James didn’t contradict him; it was close enough. It could be that this demon, having been bound to Benedict and Tatiana, had heard your name and said to you whatever it felt could hurt you most. Demons are deceptive. It might not be the truth.
“But what does it mean if it is true?” James whispered. “If I am descended from a Prince of Hell?”
It means nothing about who you are, said Jem. Look at your mother, your sister. Would you claim some flaw in them? You are your mother and father’s son, James. That is what matters. What has always mattered.
“You are being kind,” said James. “Kinder than the Clave would be, if it turns out to be true.”
Jem took James’s face in his hands. His touch was cool, as always, and his face was young and old at the same time. How could he look no older than James and at the same time, ageless?
If you saw humanity as I can see it, Uncle Jem said. There is very little brightness and warmth in the world for me. There are only four flames, in the whole world, that burn fiercely enough for me to feel something like the person I was. Your mother, your father, Lucie, and you. You love, and tremble, and burn. Do not let those who cannot see the truth tell you who you are. You are the flame that cannot be put out. You are the star that cannot be lost. You are who you have always been, and that is enough and more than enough. Anyone who looks at you and sees darkness is blind.
He let go of James abruptly, as if he had said