Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,77

and Charing Cross.

—Francis Thompson, “In No Strange Land”

Matthew wore a brocade waistcoat, and a new silk hat was clutched in his hand, though his head was bare, his curls tousled. Shimmering stones glittered in his tiepin and at his cuffs, and his signet ring gleamed on his hand. “Anna, you won’t believe—” He broke off as he saw Cordelia. “What are you doing here?”

Cordelia was not sure such a rude question deserved an answer. “Having tea.”

His gaze scanned the room. His eyes were a most peculiar color, clear green in some lights, darker in others. “I don’t see Anna,” he said, sounding astonished and a little suspicious, as if he suspected Cordelia of having hidden Anna in the teapot.

“She’s in her bedroom,” said Cordelia, as coolly as she could manage.

“Alone?” Matthew inquired.

“Matthew!” called Anna from the bedroom. “Don’t be awful.”

Matthew went to lean against Anna’s bedroom door, turning his head to speak to her through the crack. It was clear he didn’t care whether Cordelia overheard him. “I have already had a maddening day,” he said. “James has been slandered by Tatiana Blackthorn and my rotten older brother is backing her up to the hilt; James has gone off to rendezvous with Grace. I am here to get squiffy and try to forget what a foolish thing my parabatai is doing.” He glanced at his watch. “Also, I have to be at Fleet Street by midnight.”

Anna reemerged, looking spectacular in a black velvet coat, matching trousers, and a white silk shirt tied at the collar. A monocle dangled around her neck and her boots were shimmering black. Between her and Matthew it was hard to say who looked the more as if they had wandered out of an illustration in Punch regarding the glamorous youth of today.

“A dreadful tale,” Anna said. “Shall we go?”

“Certainly,” said Matthew. “Cordelia, it was lovely, if surprising, to see you.”

“There is no need to say farewell,” Anna said, drawing on a pair of white gloves. “Cordelia will be coming with us. That was why I invited her here in the first place.”

“I thought you wanted to have tea!” objected Cordelia.

“No one ever just wants to have tea,” said Anna. “Tea is always an excuse for a clandestine agenda.”

“Anna, Cordelia is a proper young lady,” said Matthew. “She may not wish to risk her reputation by sallying out with Downworlders and reprobates.”

“Cordelia wants to be a hero,” said Anna. “One cannot do that by staying at home stitching samplers.” Her eyes gleamed. “I was at the Enclave meeting today; you were not. I know how the Enclave has decided to handle our current situation, and I do not think it will help those who are stricken, or prevent the attack at the lake from happening again.”

When Matthew spoke, the brashness had gone out of his voice. “I thought Barbara was getting better. Thomas said—”

“The Silent Brothers have put all the wounded to sleep,” said Cordelia, who had heard this from Alastair. “They hope that they will heal, but…”

“Hope is not a solution,” said Anna. “The Clave insists this was a random demon attack, which took place not in daylight but under cloud cover. They have set patrols in Regent’s Park.”

“It was not random,” said Cordelia. “There were mundanes in the park, too—none were attacked.”

“And the demons came before the cloud cover did,” said Matthew. “When Piers fell screaming, the sun was still visible.”

“You begin to see the problem,” said Anna. “Several Enclave members made those points, among them my parents, but the majority prefer to think of this as the sort of problem they have faced before. Not something new.”

“And you think it’s something new,” said Cordelia.

“I am sure of it,” said Anna. “And when a new supernatural threat enters London, who are the first to know of it? Downworlders. We should be asking questions in Downworld. There was a time when the Clave had connections with High Warlocks, with the leaders of the vampire and werewolf clans. With the Queen of the Seelie Court.” She shook her head in frustration. “I know Uncle Will and Aunt Tessa have done all they can, but these alliances have been left to fray and now Shadowhunters can only imagine relying on themselves.”

“I see,” said Matthew, whose eyes had begun to sparkle. “We shall be going to the Hell Ruelle, then.”

“Matthew and I occasionally attend an artistic salon in a building owned by the High Warlock of London,” said Anna. “Malcolm Fade.”

“Malcolm Fade?” Cordelia had heard of him. High