The Lost Book of the White (The Eldest Curses #2) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,62
kissing Alec. Often these days their kisses were casual, familiar, lovely in the way they felt like home. But now they kissed with a desperation and hopefulness, drowning in one another, as they had in the earliest days of being together. After what felt like a long time, Alec broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Magnus’s. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll figure it all out. We always do.”
A werewolf passed by and called out in Mandarin, “Get a room, cute boys!”
Alec turned and waved cheerily to the man. “What did he say?”
“Let’s get to the Palace,” Magnus suggested. “We’ve got figuring out to do.”
They walked on, holding hands, and for a short time Magnus felt a little more at ease than he had the last couple of days.
* * *
MOMENTS AFTER THEY STARTED WALKING again, a fire-message burst in Alec’s face, startling him. He grabbed at it and read it to Magnus.
“ ‘Where are you? Found thorn info. Faeries watching us like we’re going to rob the place. Come as soon as you can.—Jace.’ ”
They hurried down the street, and Magnus followed his dead reckoning until they turned onto an old street in the Market and his favorite bookstore in Asia appeared before him.
The Celestial Palace was the size of a city block, a double-eaved structure that looked like one of the court buildings of Beijing as reinterpreted by faeries. It claimed to be the oldest Downworld business in Shanghai, preceding the concession itself by hundreds of years. Magnus wasn’t sure he bought that story—although maybe it was right, since faeries couldn’t lie—but it was an impressive piece of old Shanghai regardless, and a show of faerie power. Rather than the brick, stone, and tile that were used to construct its mundane inspirations, the Palace was all colored glass, gold, and glossily polished wood. On either side of the massive double doors, a glass dragon stood guard. They were painted with mercury, and their eyes were huge sea pearls.
As Magnus approached, one of them turned its serpentine head to regard them. “Magnus Bane,” it intoned in a voice like stones scraping against one another. “Long time no see.”
“Huang.” Magnus nodded to it, then turned to the other. “Di.”
The one called Di didn’t move its head. “Wait.”
With a bang, the doors burst open and a small faerie with fox ears ran out, a huge tome under one arm. He bumped into Alec’s shoulder, pushing him aside, and took off down the street.
He had made it only a short distance when a prismatic ray of light burst from Di’s mouth. It struck the fox faerie, who froze and then vanished in a puff of blue smoke. The tome dropped to the ground. There was a smell like ozone in the air.
Huang regarded Magnus and Alec. “Thus ever to book thieves. Art makes lives worth living, and so theft is the next-door neighbor to murder. They shall be ever cursed, and will never escape the eyes of the Huangdi.”
“Noted,” said Alec nervously. “We don’t steal books.”
“It’s not personal,” put in Di. “It’s just business.”
“May your trade be always prosperous and your wealth plentiful,” Magnus said.
“What he said,” agreed Alec.
The eyes of the dragons watched them as they passed through the doors.
* * *
ALEC HAD SEEN PLENTY OF wonders in his short life so far, but even he had to admit that the interior of the Celestial Palace was something to behold. Despite appearing to be only two stories from the outside, it rose five levels on the inside, each ringed with a balcony boasting floor-to-ceiling shelves containing a seeming infinitude of books. The whole interior was of carved rosewood forming the shapes of twisting vines and branches, and in the center of the huge open space above them, three great spheres of flame hung suspended in the air, giving the whole place a warm glow.
He had been worried that they would have a hard time finding their friends in such a large place, but he caught sight of them almost immediately. Isabelle was perched high up on a ladder, moving easily despite towering heels, his sister fearless about heights as she was about most things. She called down to Simon to move the ladder very fast to the section on blood curses, and screamed, “Whee!” when he did.
Clary came running over, carrying a calfskin book with an unfamiliar symbol stamped on the cover. “We found the thorn,” she said. She opened the book on a nearby table, covered with what looked to be