The Lost Book of the White (The Eldest Curses #2) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,56

Isabelle reached the far end first and waited as Clary led Simon, who looked like a cat with its hackles raised, slowly down the lane, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Alec waited for Magnus to follow, but he seemed to be stuck in place. His hair was wild and his breathing strenuous, as if he’d been running. Alec gently took him by the hand, and Magnus let him, though when his eyes rolled toward Alec, there was no recognition in them.

Alec felt a jolt of fear through him. Magnus was never distracted, never confused. It was one of the things he loved best about his boyfriend: he knew that if Magnus was forced to walk into Hell itself, he would do so with his hair perfect, his clothes pressed, his eye game on point.

And he had to admit that even now, Magnus looked good. His expression may have been hungry and hollow, but it brought out his cheekbones, and Alec for just a moment wondered what it would be like to kiss him while looking into eyes lambent with green and gold. It was a strange combination, this feeling of fear and desire.

He forced himself to walk forward, leading Magnus by the hand. Magnus allowed himself to be led; he seemed to barely notice. Alec held his breath, sure they would be attacked at any moment, but at the end of the alley was another archway, and once all six of them were through it, the sun again shone down and the air was fine and calm. Between one moment and the next, all the peculiarity went out of Magnus and he was again himself. He looked surprised as Alec threw his arms around him, hugging him tight.

“Everybody okay?” said Clary.

“Sure,” said Simon, though his voice remained shaky. “Nothing happened, right?”

They all looked to Magnus—of course they did, Alec thought. Even with all their experience, they expected Magnus to have the answers to any mystery. He shook his head, looking grave. “I don’t know,” he said. “We were walking, and then… there were those voices.…”

Isabelle and Clary exchanged worried looks. “We didn’t hear any voices,” Isabelle said.

“What were they saying?” asked Alec quietly.

Magnus looked at Alec helplessly. “I… I don’t remember.”

“You’d think the Downworlders would do something about having an alley from Hell right through the middle of their neighborhood,” said Jace.

Magnus shook his head. “I don’t know where we were,” he said, “but that was definitely not Shanghai.”

* * *

MAGNUS HAD NOT BEEN LYING. He didn’t remember what had happened, and he didn’t remember what the voices had been saying or whether he recognized who had been speaking. What he didn’t say was what he did remember: how powerful he had felt, how strong. Like the rest of them, he had been sure they would be attacked, but he had felt only a contempt for the forces that might attack them, as though he might wipe them away with a wave of his hand. Now he felt a strange emptiness, both relieved and disappointed that his feeling hadn’t been tested.

He was the navigator, however, and he tried to put all these feelings aside and concentrate on remembering where they were going. He had been here before, but it had been eighty-some years ago—still, he was able to follow the noise, and soon they were passing more Downworlders, all heading in roughly the same direction. Groups of young werewolves, pairs of older vampires huddled under large black umbrellas, and a few faeries, who gave the Shadowhunters worried looks and crossed the street to avoid passing them.

Alec took note. “I don’t much like being looked at like the enemy here,” he said. “We’re all on the same side, Shadowhunters and Downworlders.”

Jace quirked an eyebrow. “I believe the Clave’s official position is that we are on opposite sides.”

“It’s ridiculous,” said Clary. “How many faeries were actually on Sebastian’s side in the war? The Queen, her court—it must be a tiny percentage of them. But we’ve punished them all.”

“The Clave punished them all,” said Simon. “We haven’t done anything. We tried to prevent the Cold Peace.”

“As long as we can explain that to each of them individually, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” said Jace.

“Maybe we could get T-shirts made,” Simon agreed. “ ‘We Tried to Prevent the Cold Peace.’ ”

Magnus gestured toward another stone archway. “Through here, I think.”

“Our luck with random archways hasn’t been great,” muttered Isabelle. But they went through anyway, and after a brief moment of eerie radiance that caused them