City of Rising Dusk

Chapter 1

The owner of Raven Used Bookstore was a warlock. He had an extra set of eyelids that closed sideways when he blinked, like a variety of animals that Daniel could think of. But he always minded his own business about the fact that Daniel was a Shadowhunter, so Daniel likewise left him to his own. None of the Silverwells except perhaps Katya would have done it, he knew, but he'd always felt a strange affection towards warlocks.

He thought sometimes that it was because they rarely knew their fathers – rarely even knew who they were. It was that idea of being somewhat parentless that caught his fancy and falsified a kind of kinship between Daniel and the Downworlders. But it was a ridiculous idea, so he resisted the urge to befriend warlocks, or even speak to them. Still, he came time and again to this bookshop – two stops on the T, the subway, away from the Boston Institute. He usually ran or walked the distance just to enter the shop, sniff the smell of once-loved pages, run his hands over the spines of a few books, and exchange a few bills with a warlock he had never once spoken to.

He did the same today, handing the warlock four books which he dutifully scanned, glancing at the titles as he did so.

But today, instead of telling Daniel the total as he had every other day, he remarked, "You're perceptive, for a Shadowhunter."

Daniel glanced backwards, making sure the shop was empty. It appeared to be, but when a room was filled with bookshelves, it was always hard to tell.

He met the warlock's foreign eyes. "What makes you say that?"

The warlock lifted a book. "You're interested in mundane history."

Daniel nodded curtly.

"Wherever you go, tread carefully…That will be $23.50," he added, decisively ending their brief exchange.

Daniel handed him the money and left, pondering the warlock's words.

Something must have changed for him to have said them, when he hadn't before. It wasn't the first time Daniel had bought a mundane history book either. He wasn't quite sure what it was about that that made him more perceptive than other Shadowhunters, since they all had a basic knowledge of mundane history and many of the new ones had been born mundane. But perhaps it wasn't his knowledge that caught the warlock's eye – perhaps it truly was his interest, which was less common.

But even then, he wondered, what was that warning supposed to mean? He placed his new books in his backpack, slung it across his shoulders, and took up a brisk jog. Maybe the point was that perceptive Shadowhunters had a tendency to see too much. Or maybe something was coming, and the warlock was trying to warn him to look out for it. But then, he should have pressed the warlock for more information and informed the Clave immediately. Not that he liked the Clave much. Daniel supposed that he was a bit of a backwards Shadowhunter in most regards except for the part when he was actually killing demons. He could do that bit all right.

As he neared the Institute, he put the encounter out of his mind, resolving not to tell the Silverwells yet. They'd want to know what it all meant and if they needed to take action, and he couldn't tell them that. Besides that, everyone was still touchy about things with demon blood in them, even though Daniel considered Sebastian Morgenstern to be a special, one-time-only, psychotic kind of case. What's more, he thought it proved that Shadowhunters needed to worry more about threats from within rather than conspiracy from the Downworld. But he was in the minority, so it was better to keep his mouth shut, at least until he had a clearer picture.

He arrived and climbed the front steps towards the entrance. On the outside, it was just another old, tall red brick building adorned with brass that had corroded until it turned green like the Statue of Liberty in New York. In other words, it was just like most of the other buildings in Cambridge and Boston, and no passerby would have given it a second glance. Just for extra measure, there was a glamour on it so that mundane would see a sign reading "CONDEMNED. DO NOT ENTER."

Daniel opened the door and stepped inside to ornate wooden halls and ceilings, adorned with gold and tapestries of Shadowhunter history. This had become his home. He had been sent away, six years ago, from Ireland with no explanation before departure or since arrival. He had asked and begged his parents, and even threatened to cry a little, but nothing could convince them to tell him why. He had never heard from them again. Someone's feet pattered on the staircase.

"Please tell me you didn't buy more books to keep under your bed," Katya implored.

Dodging past her, Daniel replied, "No, I bought them to read. There are plenty of other things I would collect if I just wanted to keep them under my bed. Socks, for example. Or dust bunnies."

"Hilarious, Daniel," she replied. "Why do you buy them when we have a whole library here? In the Institute?"

They started up the staircase together. "Because I obviously like to spend mundane money to make sure we have two of every book. Katya, the things I read about aren't things we have books on already."

"The library's so huge you can't possibly be sure."

Daniel rolled his eyes. Katya hated studying. She was more of a take-charge-and-kill-something kind of person. He doubted she had been in the library more than six times since he had met her, and he didn't believe she had picked up more than four books from it.

"It's organized. I checked the sections they would be in. There are no books about them. Ergo, I buy some."

"Oh, nice Latin. Would it kill you to stop studying once in a while?" she huffed.

Daniel grinned. "We all speak some Latin. You speak it. Maybe you should take a break yourself."

Katya perked up instantly. "I could go for that. Want to practice some flips?"

Daniel shook his head in false despair. "All right, all right. Just let me stop by my room. I need to change and drop off some dust bunnies underneath my bed."

"Fine, but hurry."

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said with a sweeping bow.

Then he took off before Katya could slap him and locked himself in his room. He stacked his books neatly under his bed, leaned back against his bed, and took a deep breath. Then, because Katya was probably getting impatient, he stripped off his old clothes and changed into lightweight sweatpants and a dark grey t-shirt that very nearly matched his eyes. By the time he left the room and met up with her, he could tell she was about ready to start breaking down his door with a battering ram.

"What took you so long?" she grumbled, leading the way towards the training room.

Daniel ambled on leisurely behind her. "I stopped to smell a few roses on the way. They're lovely this time of year."

Katya cracked a smile. "What color were they?"

"They were blue."

"Pale or dark?"

"Neither. Just bright. There were some little raindrops still sparkling on them, so they looked just like the ocean at noon."

"What did they smell like?"

"Sweet, but it was a gentle smell."

"How many were there?"

"Five. They were growing in a cluster together on one rosebush."

"Did they have thorns?"

"Yes. All the stems of the most beautiful roses do."

"What did the petals feel like?"

"Smooth and wet, like running your hand across the surface of the Charles River."

Katya shook her head in disbelief and chuckled softly. "I can't believe you manage to give me different answers every time. I don't think you've 'seen' the same roses twice."

It was a tradition of theirs, when they were going anywhere together, to have that exchange. When Daniel had first moved to the Institute, she had complained that he was slow and asked that same question – "What took you so long?" He had replied with the same answer, and she had asked him, sarcastically, what the roses looked like. When he'd come up with a response, she had kept asking him questions about them, trying to stump him, but he'd answered them all. So it had become customary for Daniel to describe different roses every time she asked.

He laughed. "There are so many things to say. It's a lot easier than you'd think, once you get started. But we're here, anyway."

"Finally," she grumbled.

Daniel just grinned at her and took his time climbing up to the rafters and affixing a cord around his waist. He thought she would have punched him, except that he would have fallen to his death from the beam. Sure enough, as soon as the cord was properly attached to his waist, she shoved him, and he fell lightly through the air.

He loved that sensation of weightlessness, that idea that he was not in control and he did not need to be. He savored the rush of air around his body and the pure speed of the movement. Then, just before the cord was about to pull taut, he twisted his feet towards the wall and pushed off, flipping towards the wall to his right. He felt Katya leap off nearby, and they flipped and twisted over and around each other, managing to never tangle their cords or collide with each other. Even if they didn't understand each other, when they were training he felt as if he knew her. Each of their movements was smooth and coordinated. They never faltered or doubted, even when they passed within inches of each other. It was electric.

Daniel was aware of someone entering the room, but he didn't pay much attention to it until the man said sharply, "Katya! Daniel! Listen to me!"

They both flipped back up to the rafters and sat down on one of the beams. "What is it, Father?" Katya asked.

Elijah, the Head of the Institute and Katya's father, looked up at them with grave eyes. "Come down here, both of you. I want you to hear me well."

They did as he asked. Whenever he was that serious, one did well to obey him. Something must have been seriously wrong.

"Early this morning, I sent Jacob to investigate a disturbance over by the Eliot Bridge…A member of the Conclave just reported that they found him – his body – in the river."

Katya swallowed hard. Jacob Silverwell was her older brother. He had just turned eighteen a few weeks ago. They had both seen him just last night over dinner. Jacob had been very much alive then, and capable of eating half the food at the meal without anyone else's help. No one had expected him to die so soon, even if he had lived a Shadowhunter's life. Katya dodged around her father and ran from the training room. Elijah let her go. But Daniel stood still, his eyes cast downwards towards the floor.

"How did he die?"

Elijah looked away from him. "There were no visible injuries on him…so our best guess is that he drowned."

"But you know he wouldn't have drowned by himself. You know that something else had to be involved. Otherwise he would have just swum."

"I know."

Daniel felt sicker by the moment. Elijah didn't know that he had been close for most of the day. The Eliot Bridge was perhaps a mile away from the bookstore. If he'd known, he could have been there in minutes. And…what if the warlock had known? What if he had tried to warn Daniel because he knew something had happened to another Shadowhunter?

"What sort of disturbance was it?"

"Demonic in origin, but other than that, I don't know. I received a message from a member of the Conclave asking me to send someone to look into it. I should have gone with him."

"…Maybe."

Daniel walked out of the training room, leaving Elijah in solitude. He thought about finding Katya, but then decided she would rather be left alone. So he went back up to his room to put on his gear. He couldn't turn back the clock and save Jacob, but he could go to the bridge and look for the cause of his death. He knew it was reckless, and that it was, in fact, exactly opposite to the warlock's warning, but he honestly didn't care. He had the strange feeling, an intuition perhaps, that he was meant to go to the Eliot Bridge. No harm would come to him there. And as usual, he trusted the feeling. But just to be safe, he grabbed his stele and a seraph blade. Then he glamoured himself so that he could sneak onto the T and arrive more quickly.

Everything seemed peaceful when he climbed down to the edge of the river. His sensor was quiet. The water rippled gently as a breeze swept across it. There were no signs of a struggle, or even of Jacob ever having been there. On a whim, he knelt down and let his fingers dip into the surface of the water. He sensed something appear behind him.

It was a faerie. She had soft hair like starlight that shimmered when the wind blew through it, and her eyes constantly changed color. She smiled at him.

"Well met. My queen would speak with you," she said by way of greeting.

Daniel looked her over. "Well met. Why would she choose to speak with me, when my kin came here today only to die?"

She stepped closer to him. "That was not our doing. And it is not my place to explain the will of my lady."

He considered it. The Fey Folk could not lie. So if here blood was truly that of a faerie, she was telling the truth about Jacob's death.

"Very well. If you may, please take me to her."

She offered him her hand. He took it cautiously, noting the light, slender build of her fingers. Then she took a step into the water, and the world dissolved around him. When it reformed, he stood at one end of a long corridor whose dirt walls were overlaid with twisting green vines.

"Come," the faerie said, skimming lightly down the corridor.

He followed her silently, taking in the surroundings. There was a sweetness in the air that he would not have expected from a place so deep below ground. And yet it seemed somehow natural to him, as if he had smelled it before, once upon a dream.

The corridor bent sharply, and then an oaken door appeared in front of them. It swung open without anyone touching it, revealing a magnificent room twined with fading vines and flowers of every type and shade Daniel could imagine. It instantly gave him a thousand new ideas for his game with Katya. He was almost unaware of the half-smile sliding across his face.

"This is where I leave you," the faerie said. "My queen awaits you within."

Daniel nodded. "I thank you for guiding me."

She smiled and darted away fleetly. Daniel entered and felt the door swing closed behind him. Normally this would have worried him, but he now felt unusually safe. He looked to his right and saw the Seelie Queen, red-haired and splendid rising from where she had been reclining amongst satin sheets. He bowed low.

"Well met, Your Majesty."

She considered him with shockingly blue eyes. "Well met, Daniel Ravenkey. It pleases me to admit that you are surprisingly well-mannered for one of your kind."

He smiled, and as if led by someone else, replied, "I would not do any less for the Queen of the Seelie Court."

She nodded politely. "I had rather hoped that you would come. For, you see, child, I have taken in interest in you for several years. You seem unique among your Conclave."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but you sound rather like a warlock I spoke with earlier today."

"Erion Rune? The owner of that little shop that you are so fond of?" There was a touch of condescension to her voice.

He hardly wondered how she knew that because for the first time, the warlock had a name. But more than that, despite everything anyone had ever told him about the Fey Folk, he felt safe. He had been told that they were deceptive and twisted speech, but so far both the girl and the Queen seemed to have been purely honest with him. They took an interest in him where others never had. And they had said that Jacob's death was not their doing.

"Yes, he's the one. He told me I was perceptive for a Shadowhunter."

The Queen observed him carefully, following the lines of his body with captivating eyes. "That you are, my child. And so has your family always been just a step closer to us than most of the Nephilim."

He stiffened slightly. "My family. You know about my family, Your Majesty?"

She smiled. "Ravenkey. A dark name for a dark past – and a dark child. You are so dark, Daniel Ravenkey, and yet your eyes are not quite black. Not quite."

His gentle manners seemed to abandon him. "P-please, Your Majesty. My family – a dark past? What do you mean? I –"

She laughed, a soft charming sound that seemed to echo off the walls. "Let that wait for another time – for I think I must summon you again. Is there not another matter for which you desire answers?"

Daniel took a deep breath. All those years, all that silence, and now he was standing before someone who knew what it all meant. He longed to press her for another answer, but she had closed the topic quite clearly. And he knew better than to disobey the Seelie Queen and risk invoking her anger. Aside from that, he wanted nothing more than to keep himself in her favor. He felt that it would leave him empty to lose this new companionship, although he could not exactly name the reasons. But she was right; he had come to the river's edge to investigate a somber matter.

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty," he said, recovering himself. "I hope that you might tell me any knowledge you have of Jacob Silverwell's death."

The words did not feel right on his tongue. Jacob could not possibly be dead. He could be a jokester that might claim death as a prank, but he was too…alive…to have died. It was true, Daniel thought for a moment, that he had not seen the body; yet he also felt that seeing Jacob's corpse would not have changed anything. It would only give him one more nightmare.

She nodded once. "The boy was most unfortunate. However it was, in part, a very natural death – a lion may fight a lion and a wolf may slay a wolf."

"…It was a Shadowhunter," Daniel whispered.

The Queen smiled mirthlessly. "Very good, child."

"But, Majesty, how? There were no wounds on him, nor bruises…"

She did not answer immediately, but a realization dawned on Daniel during her silence. He had a feeling that she was waiting for him to think of it. He also had a feeling that whoever had done this was sickeningly clever. He admired the thought put into the murder, and then reviled himself for it.

He said slowly, "But there were wounds, weren't there? His killer probably…knocked him out, and then used an iratze to heal him. But Jason…But he…was still unconscious. So the killer drowned him – maybe weighted the body…"

He wondered if Jacob woke before he died. Maybe he had found himself suffocating in the cold darkness, watching the light disappear above him. Daniel held himself rigidly to avoid shivering or crying. He told himself that Jason probably had not woken before his death. He had probably died unconsciously, painlessly. He blinked several times and looked back up at the Queen.

"You are, indeed, quite perceptive."

He could not read emotion in her eyes. A twinge of doubt jutted into his mind, but he ignored it. She had taken a liking to him, and he would not ruin it. But still…

"Majesty," he began carefully, "I do not mean to doubt you, and have nothing but respect and gratitude for what information you have given me today; still, I cannot in good conscience refrain from asking you this question: Why did one of your courtiers not notify the Clave of what had happened?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she resumed her relaxed, confident position almost immediately. "Since Jonathan Morgenstern's downfall, my Court has fallen out of favor with the Clave. If I had informed your kind of the circumstances of the boy's death, they would not believe me, for I have no proof of its occurrence. Remember child – no mark was left upon his body. The Clave would blame my Fey Folk for his death and be not swayed by any reason. More restrictions would fall upon us. This has no benefit to my people – or to yours."

Daniel nodded, placated. "Thank you. I had not thought it through."

The Seelie Queen inclined her head. "Your Nephilim, I think, must wonder of your whereabouts."

"Yes, you are quite correct. I must return to them, but I thank you again for the help that you have given me. I shall not forget it."

The Queen smiled, captivating Daniel for a moment. "You have such pretty manners for a mortal. I think that I shall call on you again. Step closer, child."

He did, approaching her until she bade him stop. Then she removed a chain with an iridescent pendant shaped to create the impression of intricate twists, knots, and curves. Daniel had never seen anything quite like it. She placed it around his neck, and he felt the gentle weight of it as it settled into place. He touched the pendant.

"Majesty, what purpose does this serve? It is more beautiful than any necklace I have ever seen."

She explained, "Wear this always, and when I desire to speak again with you, it shall pulse against your skin. Touch the jewel, and it shall bring you to my Court. Your location shall not matter."

Daniel broke a soft smile. "I thank you greatly for this gift."

The Queen nodded and called for her servant to take Daniel back to the surface. Daniel longed to look into the faerie's eyes as though enchanted by the ever-changing colors. But he shook the idea off as creepy and disturbing and simply followed her out instead. As she began to slow down, she turned towards him.

"Daniel Ravenkey, it would please me to be called Amaranth," she said.

He smiled. "The undying flower. Very well. Then please, call me only Raven."

She returned his smile slyly. "Raven. Then you do not wish for me to call you Daniel?"

"Nevermore," he said softly.

She nodded knowingly, clearly pleased with him. His lips quirked upward on one side.

Amaranth replied, "Good, the name fits you well. Follow this staircase; it will take you to the surface."

He was about to ask her what staircase she was referring to when he noticed a stone staircase engraved with runes he had not seen before and did not understand. Daniel was certain it had not been there a moment ago. He looked back to say goodbye to her, but she had already disappeared. So, he turned back around and mounted the steps. He climbed them one-by-one, wondering how many it would take to return him to the world he knew. Then, a spiraling rune at his feet seemed to glow, and the world spiraled with it. When everything straightened, Daniel stood at the shore of the Charles once again.

The sun was setting by the time he got to the T. It was already down when he returned to the Institute. He tucked the Queen's jewel beneath his shirt and took a quick look at the darkening blue sky before he entered. As he stepped inside, the weight of everything that had happened that day seemed to bear down upon him and he felt heavy.

The front room was empty and all too grand, like a funeral, when he arrived. It wasn't until he was halfway up the staircase that he encountered another soul. Jonah, Katya's nine-year-old brother, met him. His face was tearstained, and his curly blond hair was tousled and messy.

"Where have you been?" he said, wide-eyed. "The Conclave is having a meeting, and Katya is crying, and no one will talk to me. I wanted you or Jacob, but you weren't here, and Jacob is…" He broke off and sniffled.

Daniel ruffled Jonah's hair, making it even worse, and answered, "I'll talk to you. Let's come on up to my room. Has anyone besides you noticed that I'm gone?"

Jonah shook his head. "I don't think so. Everyone's all too busy."

Daniel nodded, relieved that he wouldn't have to explain away his whereabouts to anyone. He picked up the little boy and carried him the rest of the way. Inside his room, he set him down upon his bed and rooted in his dresser for pajama bottoms and a loose t-shirt.

He pointed at his bathroom and said, "I'm just going to go change, but then I'll be right out, okay?"

Jonah nodded. Daniel changed quickly and came back out to discover Jonah curled up like a cat on his bed. He sat down by his feet. He wasn't sure whether or not Jonah was asleep, so he didn't speak for a long while. Then, a little hand tugged on his sleeve. He turned and looked at the little boy.

"You're never scared by anything, are you?"

Daniel shook his head. "Maybe nothing scares me, but a lot of things terrify me."

"You don't act like it."

"My family didn't like for me to do that."

"Your old family?"

"That one."

Jonah nodded and yawned. Daniel soothed him to sleep with an old Irish fairytale that his mother had taught him. When Jonah was fast asleep and breathing deeply, Daniel mused silently that one day the story would lose its charm for the boy – he would start to wonder if that story, like so many others, were true. But for now, it wasn't part of a web of possibility, it was just a tale. Just as his world was smaller than Daniel's; not so tangled and complicated with an unknown past and an even less certain future. Not so tangled in the Seelie Court and loyalty to the Clave, as Daniel sensed his world was becoming. Daniel's world was spiraling slowly outward, into infinity and chaos, as mundane scientists said the universe was doing with every passing moment. But even Jonah's world had grown today, through the uncertainty of his brother's death, and there was no going back. Daniel looked at the small, sleeping boy. Then he pulled a blanket over him, lay down with his back to him, and did not sleep.