The bar was busier today; mainly faeries, Magnus noted, but a sprinkling of vampires and werewolves. The same faerie was working the coffee machine, ivy hair pushed back in a rough tangle. Magnus ordered an espresso, and waited for a quiet moment.
Leaning across the bar, he said, conversationally: "Someone tried to kidnap Alexander Lightwood yesterday."
The faerie nodded, but didn't say anything.
"Would Meliorn's death be involved, somehow?"
The nod was almost imperceptible this time.
"Can you tell me anything else? I'll remember the favour," Magnus asked, quietly.
"Another espresso? No problem," the faerie said, a little more loudly than necessary, and went across to the machine. Bringing the coffee across a few moments later, he pushed it across to Magnus, and as he took the money, muttered, very quietly under his breath: "Look for his mother."
Clary saw the top of what must be a tipi standing up through the trees, bright white against the grey sky. It had started to rain; a cold, penetrating drizzle. She pulled up the hood of her coat, shifted her bag on her back, and walked a little faster. She'd found a shop selling cheap army surplus gear in Carmarthen and bought full waterproofs, as well as a sleeping bag and some food. She'd also marked herself before leaving the town; runes for stamina, fortitude, and warmth. Still, it would be good to be out of the November rain.
She'd asked Gwen about Cwm Ger out of curiosity after she'd got back to Cardiff, wanting to understand more about the boy who'd stayed in Cantre'r Gwaelod in her place. Gwen's description had fascinated her; a place where the barriers between Downworld and Mundane thinned, where misfits from both sides of the world could find a home.
She'd come back to Wales partly in the hope of finding something to lead her to Sebastian, but in any event she needed somewhere – anywhere – to find shelter, and gather her thoughts. "Anyone can just turn up and stay for a while, no questions asked," Gwen had said, back when they were in Cardiff. "There's a big tipi at the entrance to the valley, people just hang out there, share food, help out to keep things running, you know. They have awesome parties, too," she added. "Both sides, mundie and downworld."
Awesome parties weren't high on Clary's agenda right now, but a cheap place to stay where no-one would ask questions sounded perfect.
/
"Hello?" Clary put her head around the flap of the tipi, cautiously.
"Hi. Come on in."
The voice sounded friendly enough, so she pushed back the flap, and went through. It was dark inside, lit by a few candles dotted around, and the glow of a small fire in the centre. She could just make out three figures sitting around the fire.
"You just arrived?" one of the figures asked.
"Yes," Clary answered. "I was hoping to stay for a bit?" She felt awkward; it was one thing for Gwen to say that anyone could just turn up, another to be here, hoping to come and stay with total strangers.
"Sure," another voice said, cheerfully. "Chuck your boots in the pile by the door, find a corner and dump your stuff. There's a hot kettle here if you want tea."
After a moment, her eyes adjusted a little to the dark, and she could see piles of bedding and bags at intervals around the outer circle of the tipi.
She took her gear boots off a little reluctantly; although the sheathed knives tucked into them were glamoured, she wasn't sure what would happen if someone actually picked them up. In the end she pushed them right to the back of the pile, and figured she'd just have to hope for the best.
Jace leant against the doorway, five minutes walk from the Institute, and swore, fluently and extensively.
"They must have taken her from here," he said. He was trying his best to stay calm and focused, but visions of Sebastian pinning Clary to the wall in Idris – the look that Sebastian's eyes had always held when they fell on Clary – kept running through his head.
"Or she made a Portal herself," pointed out Izzy. "Useful talent if you want to get away without being followed."
"I'm going in to the Shelter," said Jace. "That's the link, it has to be."
Alec sighed. "I'll come in with you if you go," he said. "But I think we should go back to the Institute first, and see whether Magnus has come up with anything."
"It's true," said Izzy. "Besides, if we go in without a plan, we could just end up scaring off whoever it is, and lose our only lead."
"We know who it is," said Jace. "Sebastian."
/
"I've found out more than I ever wanted to know about Meliorn," said Magnus. "For a start, his father was human."
"We knew that" said Izzy. "That's how come he could lie to the Council."
"Would you like to guess where his father came from?" said Magnus.
She shrugged. "No idea. New York?"
"Cantre'r Gwaelod. Before it was drowned. He was a courtier there. By my reckoning, that means Meliorn must have been at least eight hundred years old."
Izzy pulled a face. "That's grim."
"And you thought that there was a big age gap between Magnus and Alec," said Jace.
"Next question," said Magnus, ignoring Jace. "Where do you think his mother lives?"
"Cantre'r Gwaelod," said Jace, understanding. "Of course."
"So, did you get anywhere with your tracking?" asked Magnus, thoughtfully.
Clary poked her head out of the tipi flap. The rain had stopped overnight, and the low winter sun was shining through the trees, making the damp surroundings glisten.
She looked up at the sky; it must be mid morning already, she figured. She'd thought last night that she wouldn't be able to sleep, had curled up in her sleeping bag intending to plan her next moves, but the runes wearing off had left her bone tired, and she'd fallen asleep watching the fire, and listening to the low buzz of conversation.
Pulling her boots on, she went outside. There was a youngish woman, maybe a little older than her, with long black dreadlocks, splitting wood a little way away from the tipi. She'd been sitting in the group by the fire last night, and Clary tried to remember her name.
The woman looked up, smiled at her and put down her axe. "How're you doing? Nice morning. Claire, is it?"
"Clary. Are you Aspen?" Clary asked, doubtfully.
"She's the older woman, grey hair. I'm Jenny. Frankie left this morning, so it's just the three of us staying in here for the moment."
"Okay," said Clary, "Is there something I should do to help?"
Jenny shrugged. "Right now, you could help me bring this wood in, if you want. Between us we need to fetch up water, keep the fire going, that's all really. We've been making a meal to share each evening, if you wanted to join in?"
"Sure," Clary answered.
"You can just put in whatever," continued Jenny, not really pausing, "Ingredients if you've got anything, and there's a magic hat just inside the door, so if you go down to the shops you can take from that to get stuff to cook."
Magic hat? thought Clary, a little bewildered. She'd come here looking for a space between mundane and downworld; she hadn't expected to find it quite so soon.
Her confusion must have been obvious, as Jenny laughed. "Don't you have magic hats in the States?" she asked. "It's just an expression – well, it is a hat, but you put money in if you've got any, then people take it out when we need something. You don't have to put anything in if you're skint, it generally works out okay."
"The tracking rune works to here," said Jace, in the alley. "Then she just vanishes."
Magnus ran his hands over the wall. Under his touch, the outline of a doorway appeared, ghostly silver against the stone. Runes burned at either side of the doorway, and he touched them lightly with one finger.
"I think we can safely say this is Clary's work. These aren't warlock runes, and as far as I know, no-one else can make a Portal."
"So she's gone of her own accord," said Izzy.
"Either that, or Sebastian knows that she can make a Portal, and he or the Fae forced her to do it," said Jace.
"It's possible," agreed Magnus, "But unlikely, I think. The Fae have their own ways of travelling, as do demons, and I doubt they'd want to use a Nephilim portal." He shook his head. "I'm sure she's decided for some reason that going off alone is the best thing to do. The question is, why."
"You'd have thought she'd have said something," said Izzy. "Or we'd have noticed her behaving differently."
"I don't know," said Jace, slowly. "Yesterday, she turned up in the music room in gear, took me off killing demons. Not for any reason, just said she was bored. We turned up a nest of Elapid demons, and it was like she was glad to have something to fight. Then when we got back," and he paused, "we ended up in bed,"
"No surprise there," said Izzy, sarcastically.
"I didn't really think about it, but it was different, as if she was trying to forget something," said Jace.
"That's usually your approach to life," said Alec.
"Exactly," said Jace. "It's what I do when everything's falling apart, and I can't cope."
"You didn't ask her why?" asked Alex.
"Of course not," said Izzy. "Sex and violence, Jace's ideal date. He's not really going to complain, is he?"
"He must have been getting at her somehow," said Jace, ignoring Izzy. "I'm going to go through her things. Maybe if I can see what she's taken, it'll help us figure out where she's gone."
Gwen leant casually against the alley wall, and looked at the Mundane boy, eyebrows raised.
Tom shook his head. "I'll come back to the Institute, like I said. But I need to talk to my mother, and I can't do that with you hanging around."
"Can't you just say I'm a friend from school? I thought you were going to tell her you're staying with me, anyway? There are glamours that'll persuade her it's all okay, no problem."
"No glamours. It'll just make things worse."
She looked closely at him. "Does she have the Sight too?"
He nodded, without saying anything.
"I can pull down my sleeves, she's not going to see my Marks."
He sighed. "It's more complicated than that, Gwen. She's . . . fragile, sometimes. She doesn't like strangers at the best of times. If she sees you, and she figures out you're not – whatever – it'll get messy. More messy."
"So should I wait here for you?" asked Gwen.
"No. I don't know how long it'll take me to figure stuff out with her. It depends how she is."
"Look," he added, after a moment, "Don't worry about me. I know I was freaked earlier, but I'll be fine. I'll sort things out here, then I'll come straight back. If I see anyone dodgy, I'll run – I reckon I know all the back ways round here better than most, Downworld or not."
/
Tom watched Gwen heading off, then pushed open the door to the flat. He heard the sound of the television, and went through into the living room. His mother was sitting on the sofa, looking out of the window, an undrunk cup of coffee on the floor beside her.
"Where've you been, Tom?" she asked. "Josh phoned earlier, said he hadn't seen you for ages."
Tom shrugged. "I was over at the Mission this morning, got chatting to some of the volunteers." He'd thought about it before going in, and decided his best bet was to tell as much of the truth as possible.
She turned to look at him. "Have you been getting mixed up in things you shouldn't, Tomos?"
He sighed. He'd had a feeling this wasn't going to be easy.
"All places shall be hell that are not heaven."
In the back of the antiques shop after the fight in Prague. Both of them covered in blood, weapons in hand. Sebastian watching, laughing.
/
Jace held out the picture that he'd found in the bottom of Clary's travel bag.
"I know how he's threatening her," he said, shortly.
Magnus looked at him, a question in his eyes.
"He'll have threatened to tell the Clave – things – that happened when we were with him."
"What sort of things?" asked Magnus.
Jace spoke slowly, not looking at them. "I had a chance to escape, to go to the Clave, and Clary stopped me"
"Why?" asked Izzy.
"Because they would have killed me, of course. To kill him," answered Jace. He went on, a despairing tone in his voice. "If she'd let me, I'd have killed myself right then."
"What had you done?" asked Magnus, gently.
"The Infernal Cup," he answered, shortly. "It was my idea – when I was part of him. And I killed an Iron Sister."
"But the Clave wouldn't blame you for things you did when you were possessed," said Izzy. "Maybe they'd blame Clary for stopping you, but she wouldn't care – she never cares."
"Izzy, think about it," said Jace. "How would you feel, if it had been Maryse who'd been turned by the Cup – or Alec? If you knew the idea had come from my head, regardless of how, or why. Could you forgive me?"
Izzy paused. "No," she said, quietly.
"Well," said Magnus, practically. "We'd better make sure that they don't find out.