The Lost Book of the White (The Eldest Curses #2) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,126

he could feel the magic leaving his body, his Alliance rune cooling. He had to act before it was gone completely. Still kneeling, he flung his hand out toward Magnus and called the thorn’s power to him.

It was like trying to restrain a wild horse. The fireball in Magnus jerked, leaped, shook. Beyond the realm of conscious thought, Alec reached out to it. Soothed it. Coaxed it. And with a gentle motion, he tore it from the tendrils of Magnus’s own magic that held it in place, the magic he knew, blue and cool and beloved. He reached, and the fireball left Magnus’s body.

As soon as it was freed, it expanded in size, becoming the only illuminating star in Avici’s sky. It spun above them all, a fireball several feet wide, crackling with power. Alec could feel its instability, its desire to find a new resting place. It yearned to be within his own chest, but without another wound from the Svefnthorn, it would find no purchase in him. So for a moment it spun freely, and for a moment all of them present only stared.

Sammael recovered first, of course. He had taken his hand off Magnus’s shoulder and was looking up at the orb. Magnus remained on his knees. “Excellent!” Sammael said, laughing. “Great work. I love an unexpected turn, don’t you?” He seemed to address this question to Ragnor, who didn’t lift his head to acknowledge any of what was going on. Sammael squinted up at the orb. “Shinyun, if you could be a dear and grab that thing and bring it to me, we can get on with our plans.”

Shinyun was also watching the orb. She didn’t respond.

“Hello?” Sammael said after a moment. “Shinyun Jung? My loyal lieutenant? Get the orb?”

When Shinyun turned around, she wasn’t looking at Sammael. She was looking at Magnus. Staring at him, white-hot hatred in her eyes.

“I will never understand you,” she said, in a quiet tremor that suggested she was barely keeping herself from a complete meltdown. “Never have I seen someone so determined to throw away their birthright. We are warlocks, Magnus Bane. We are the children of Lilith.”

Alec tried to ignore the frothing magic boiling through his body and focus on Magnus. He could feel the rotating sphere of magic above them. Magnus had been looking at it, a little dazed, but now his attention was on Shinyun as she stalked toward him, her wings out and twitching dangerously.

“The power of the thorn is the greatest gift that a warlock can receive,” she said through gritted teeth. “It is the power of our father—our actual father, Magnus, not just the demon that made us individually—the one without whom our race would not exist at all. I found that power. I offered you that power. Despite all you did, despite your rejection of Asmodeus… you showed me mercy. And this is how I repaid you.”

Her voice broke with anguish. “And this is how you repay me?”

“Shinyun,” Sammael said, a hint of alarm creeping into his jovial voice. “I get that you and Magnus have some unresolved stuff, but really, he’s irrelevant to the larger plan.”

Magnus looked over at Sammael. “Well, that hurts a little.”

Sammael threw up his hands and affected a bewildered look. “I didn’t even know you existed. I mean, once I understood that you were Asmodeus’s eldest curse and already had two thorns in you, well, I wasn’t about to just ignore the possibility of your service.”

“So I wasn’t part of your plans… at all?” Magnus said, incredulous. “But you went after my oldest friend… and the warlock who tried to drag me into Asmodeus’s control three years ago.”

“You’ll forgive me,” said Sammael, “if I think of Ragnor Fell as ‘the most knowledgeable expert alive on the subject of dimensional magic’ first, and your ‘oldest friend’ second. As for Shinyun, she came to me.”

Magnus looked helplessly over at Ragnor, who shrugged.

Shaking his head, Sammael said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but not everything is about you, Magnus. As for you, Shinyun,” he said, reaching out toward the orb, “I’m very disappointed in you—”

“Everybody shut up!” Shinyun yelled, and even Sammael seemed startled. The orb had been drifting toward Sammael’s open hand; Shinyun suddenly shot up from the ground, her new wings flapping, and caught the orb out of the air as if it were a basketball.

Sammael said, “Shinyun,” sternly this time.

She cast one wild glance at him, then thrust her hand forward, punching through the