Jem paced at the foot of the bed in his room in the Silent City. The Dark War was over. He had fought in it-survived it, even. Yet he felt that he still had an uphill battle to wage.
"Tessa," he said to himself. "Do you remember, during the second world war, when you told me that if a cure were found, if I were somehow to become human again, that you would seize such a future with me, go with me anywhere? I kissed you then, and it is something I cherished every day since but also regretted, because I felt I was promising you something that I could not give...
"No," he muttered in frustration. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, running them through his messy black hair. He could not muck this up. Their yearly meeting-he had to make every last one of them count. Taking a deep breath, he tried again.
"Tessa, you know I was never good with words. But you must know that I have loved you, never stopped loving you throughout all these years. But for over a century, I could never love you the way you deserve, with a whole heart and soul. Now, I am no longer a Silent Brother. I've never had a lifetime to plan for. Now I can-I hope-"
He cut himself off, shaking his head.
"Tessa, I have loved you all this time-a century and a half. I know that you loved Will. I saw you together over the years. And I know that that love was so great that it must have made other loves, even the one we had when we were both so young, seem small and unimportant. You had a whole lifetime of love with him, Tessa. So many years. Children. Precious memories. But since Will, have you never loved anyone else?"
Maybe that one he could use. Jem twisted his face in dissatisfaction. There was a knock at the door.
Brother Enoch came in, a stack of mundane clothing in his hands. Jem was packing his few belongings and leaving the Silent City-his default residence for over a century-today. His one duffel bag was nearly empty; all he needed was a few changes of clothes.
These are in your size, Brother Enoch said. He laid the stack on the bed, then straightened. For a moment, Jem imagined that Enoch was clearing his throat, steeling himself to say something important.
The Brothers wish you good tidings. You are going to London, a city you know well. We trust that you can find your way around.
Jem nodded, realizing that the awkwardness of the interaction was probably due to the fact that Silent Brothers have never had to make such a farewell to one of their own before.
"Thank you," Jem said, "and not just for the clothes."
Brother Enoch started to turn to go, then stopped. Your life has been strange indeed, James Carstairs. I hope that you will remember that it was the Brotherhood that saved your life and kept you alive for all these years.
"Of course. I am grateful."
You know much more about the ways of the Brotherhood now than any other Shadowhunter. Traditional rituals, ancient and forbidden lore, confidential will not divulge our secrets with any other.
It was not a question. Brother Enoch looked at Jem with the same passive expression he always did-the same one that Jem himself knew he wore for the past 130 years-but Enoch pressed a feeling of sternness into Jem's mind.
Jem nodded again. Brother Enoch left the room with a swish of his parchment robes. If Jem had to venture a guess, he would say that Enoch was trying to make an exit.
Sitting on the bed, he rifled through the clothes he was brought. When he was Brother Zachariah, he wouldn't have given a second thought to these clothes-the texture of the fabric, the scent of mild detergent, the cut and fit of them. Now Jem found himself marveling at even the simplest things. He never had to dress himself as an ordinary man of the twenty-first century, but he had a feeling that these were clothes that he would have picked out for himself. Knowing that Brother Enoch had picked them out amazed him even further. Some of these pieces were vintage.
Shaking his head again, this time in amusement, Jem packed away the clothes. At the door, he paused and took one last look at his room in the Silent City. He would come back, he knew, sometime, someday-maybe even earlier than he thought-but never again as a resident, or practitioner of Nephilim magic. Never again as a Silent Brother.
He would come back as James Carstairs, Shadowhunter, but that would be it. He wasn't even sure if he would call himself that, Shadowhunter, because his other half was gone. His parabatai.
He would be just Jem. Jem, whether or not he was a Jem that was allowed to love Tessa Gray with his whole body and mind and soul. That much he would find out soon enough. It was with Tessa in his mind and her name on his lips that he left the City of Bones, ready-at last-to come home.