Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,98

stele to Cordelia’s wrist. “A historic moment for a pair of soon-to-be-famous parabatai.”

“I hate to seem ungrateful for the assistance,” said James. “But what on earth brought you all here? How did you know what was going to happen?”

“I heard about the Cerberus from Jess—Jessamine,” said Lucie, putting the finishing touches on Cordelia’s rune. They were both leaning against the low wall that ran along the Embankment. “Ghosts, they gossip.” She repeated for James the story she’d told the rest of them on the way to Chelsea, finishing with: “So, it seems the demon you killed in the greenhouse had time to multiply, and the new demons came looking for Grace when she left Chiswick.”

“There were certainly a lot of them,” said Cordelia. “Much worse than just the one in the greenhouse.”

“Perhaps they all had secret assignations with Grace,” said Lucie.

Alastair snorted. “That Blackthorn woman must be mad, letting Cerberus demons run wild in her shrubberies,” he said, putting his stele away. Thomas touched his own arm with a sort of wondering look; his wound was already beginning to close up. Alastair might be snappish, but he was handy with a stele.

James and Matthew had sat down on the ground so James could properly steady Matthew’s face with his hand. He drew an iratze lightly on his cheek while Matthew squirmed and complained. “It’s hard to say how much she knew,” James said. “I’m sure she was aware of the original demon in the greenhouse, but likely not its vengeful progeny.”

“She knew enough to come here,” Christopher pointed out. “Though she may just have been following Grace.”

James looked thoughtful; Cordelia could not help but wonder what Tatiana had said to him by the pony trap. He had looked stunned, as if she had hit him in the face.

“They disappeared because you told them to, didn’t they?” Cordelia said.

“So it seems.” James was examining Matthew’s cheek, apparently considering his rune work. Satisfied, he sat back. Matthew produced a flask from his pocket with a relieved air, unscrewed the top, and took a long drink. “They went back to whatever dimension Cerberus demons hail from. In the name of my grandfather.”

He sounded bitter.

“How nice for you to be related to such an important sort of demon,” said Alastair dryly.

“If it actually cared that James was related to an ‘important’ demon, it should have said something to me, too,” said Lucie. “I am his sister. I do not appreciate being overlooked.”

James smiled—which, Cordelia suspected, had been Lucie’s aim. He had a perfectly lethal dimple that flashed when he smiled. Such things should be illegal.

“They’re loyal to the Blackthorn family, in their horrid sort of way,” said Lucie thoughtfully. “That’s why they wanted us not to say anything about what happened tonight.”

“Ah,” said Alastair. “Because the Clave wouldn’t look too kindly on the Blackthorns breeding a pack of Cerberus demons and letting them chase after Herondale, even though he is very irritating.”

“I told you, Benedict Lightwood’s the one that bred them,” Lucie said crossly.

“Unpleasant as all that was,” Matthew said, “there is something comforting about fighting the ordinary kind of demon under cover of darkness, rather than poisonous ones that appear during the day.”

“Oh!” said Cordelia. “That reminds me. We should tell them what Hypatia said, Matthew. That we could speak to Ragnor Fell about the demons in the park.”

Everyone started to sputter questions. Matthew held up a hand. “Yes, we spoke to Hypatia Vex at the Hell Ruelle. She said she would send Ragnor a message. It is hardly a sure thing.”

“Perhaps, but Anna was right,” said Cordelia. “We must speak to more Downworlders regardless. There was much talk of Magnus Bane—”

“Ah, Magnus Bane,” said Matthew. “My personal hero.”

“Indeed, you once described him as ‘Oscar Wilde if he had magic powers,’ ” said James.

“Magnus Bane threw a party in Spain I attended,” said Thomas. “It was a little difficult, since I did not know a soul. I got rather drunk.”

Matthew lowered the flask with a grin. “Is that when you got your tattoo?”

Lucie clapped her hands. “The boys joke about the tattoo Thomas got in Spain, but Thomas will never let me see it. Isn’t that the meanest thing you ever heard, Cordelia? I am a writer. I believe I should have the experience of studying a tattoo at close quarters.”

“I believe you shouldn’t,” said Thomas, with conviction.

“Is the problem that it is in an unmentionable place?” asked Lucie.

“No, Lucie,” said Thomas, with a hunted air.

“I’d like to see it,” said Alastair, in a