**Author's note: I made some slight modifications to the end of EotC Chapter 2 the day after posting it, if you missed the update. I didn't quite hit my mark with Andrej, but it has been amended to my satisfaction. Everything remains untouched up until his entrance if you want to check the new version without re-reading the entire chapter. Again, my apologies. I've never had to change after posting, and I'll be aiming not to do it again! x.x

3

Alec blinked awake, his back twisted awkwardly on a couch with a little too much sag in the middle. Crackling flames burned in an iron wood stove to his right and the heat from it warmed the cramped space from 'freezing cold' to 'almost-tolerable'. A worn loveseat and a mismatched armchair were boxed in around him and he remembered how claustrophobic this room could feel. The feeling probably wasn't improved by having Jace leaning back against him from his place on the floor, his head throw back across Alec's stomach to snore in all of his open-mouthed glory.

The memory of flames racing through darkness brought him fully awake and he reached over to grip Jace's shoulder. His parabatai's eyes snapped open at once and his worried gaze fixed on Alec for a moment before a half-smile twinged his lips up. "You need to stop working out, Alec," he said, poking at his friend's midsection. "You're goddamned uncomfortable to sleep on."

Alec snorted. "Magnus never complains." He struggled against the sag in the couch to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge with unnecessary force to give Jace a good kick in the shoulder, but the effort was ruined when he hissed in pain as the burn on his shoulder pulled at the still-tender flesh where it was healing.

Jace fended him off and then held up his hands. "And that is officially all I want to hear about that."

Dark blue eyes searched the tiny living room for any sign of the warlock, or anyone, really. "Where is he?"

"He's bringing the others," Jace answered. "Simon and Izzy are still in Malta on assignment, but they need to be here for Hunter." He saw the next question in Alec's eyes before the other man could ask. "He's going to Beijing to find Rafe and Max, too, and get them here safely."

Alec exhaled with relief. The Clave had a rather terrible track history of carrying out sentences on family members of the condemned if the guilty party wasn't immediately at hand to bear the punishment themselves. Everett might just be twisted enough to try to use their children against him for the escape from Alicante.

"Thank the Angel. How is Hunter? And where is everyone?"

Jace stood up and pushed his hands back through his blond hair. "He's okay, I guess. Still weak." His face tightened. "So's Aspen. She should be fine, but instead, she's just as exhausted as him. I don't know what happened between them, but I don't think it's right."

Alec had rarely seen his parabatai so serious. "We'll get through this, Jace, I promise."

Maybe it was the chill in the air that made him do it, but Jace shivered and nodded once before continuing. "Clary's gone out to the bunker with Aline and Helen. After you passed out and Magnus left, Helen started worrying about what that surge might have done to the wards."

Alec felt his heart sink. That's all we need right now.

A flash of blue light flickered in the darkness through the small window by the door and then Alec and Jace could hear voices. The door creaked open and cold wind blasted through, chasing away the bit of warmth that had been building.

"Oy vey iz mir! It's freezing here!" Simon exclaimed as he stumped through the door with Izzy on his heels, her hands clutching a leather jacket around her shoulders. Her eyes found her brother's and she crossed the space between them in two strides of her long legs to kneel at the edge of the couch.

"Alec!" She threw her arms around him and he bit down on the inside of his cheek as his shoulder screamed again. "Where's Hunter?"

He squeezed her back carefully. "They're in Helen and Aline's bedroom. They're going to be okay, Iz." Her long dark hair swished past him as she pressed a swift kiss to his cheek and then she vanished through the door to the left of the couch, closing it behind her softly.

Simon sank into the armchair and crossed his arms over his chest, stuffing his hands into his armpits as his teeth chattered. "W-w-what's going on?"

Alec leaned back into the worn cushions and let Jace explain. His parabatai was filled with that restless energy that Alec knew so well; Jace wanted to be doing something, and sitting around like this was making him anxious. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift as Jace shared everything that had happened since a Morgenstern son had set foot in Alicante once more.

Isabelle Lightwood didn't cry. She didn't break. But when Magnus had shown up at their hotel in Malta to tell her what had happened, she had come dangerously close to doing both of those things in the same night. To hear that her son had nearly died, that her city was burning... it was almost too much.

She felt her way forward in the darkness of the unfamiliar bedroom and her shin found the foot of the bed. The bedside light clicked on and she saw Aspen Herondale's worried face glow in the witchlight where she laid twisted on her side on top of the coverlet. Hunter was tucked in under the blankets beside her, still sleeping, his dark brown hair matted to his forehead. She felt her breath catch when she saw how pale he looked.

"Aspen..." Izzy trailed off as she saw the scared look on the girl's face. Without another word she swooped down and gathered her into her arms, holding her tightly. "It's okay," she whispered. "It's going to be okay."

The girl pulled away from the embrace, a single tear running down her cheek. Her gold eyes, so like Jace's, were serious in the pale light. "What if it's not, Iz?" She looked down at her best friend. "What if it's not going to be okay?"

"Oh, sweetheart, don't say that." She tried to renew the hug once more, for herself or for Aspen, she didn't know, but the girl shook her head.

"There's something wrong with this," she said, leaning back so that the light could catch the black Mark just below her collarbone. Izzy's eyes widened. Parabatai. She'd known that the pair had been close to being ready to go the the Silent City to complete the ritual, but this...

"Wrong how?"

Aspen shrugged weakly. "I don't know. I thought that being parabatai made you stronger." She looked down at her hands where they were laced in her lap. "But all I feel is weakness. Hunter's still weak, too. He can't stay awake for very long."

Izzy reached out to brush her son's hair back from his forehead, feeling the thin sheen of sweat on his face as she did so. He didn't stir, unaware that his mother was close. Her mind raced as panic fought to overcome reason, and her heart constricted in her chest. She couldn't lose him.

"We're going to figure it out, Aspen." She pulled the girl back into her arms without resistance, breathing in the smell of char from the blond hair as she stroked her fingers through it soothingly. "Together."

Izzy slipped out of the bedroom and closed the door again. She sank into the couch next to her brother where he was drowsing in and out during Jace's tale. She caught enough to piece together what she had missed. Another Morgenstern. By the Angel. But not like his father, if Jace could be believed.

The front door opened anew and wind sliced through the room once more. Alec roused again and Izzy pulled at her jacket. This was absolutely ridiculous.

Three bundles of fur trooped through the door into the cramped room, kicking off heavy boots to slide feet into fat slippers. Clary, Aline, and Helen stripped away their gloves, unwound scarves from around their faces, and then pulled off the coats to hang on pegs nailed into the wall.

It only took Aline a moment to see the miserable state her guests were in, and then she was pulling open a closet to pull down blankets for them, handing them out grimly as she apologized for leaving them like this.

Helen filled a kettle and set it on the stove, pushing in another log to coax the fire into a more robust blaze. Once the flames had started to lick hungrily up the sides of the new offering, she closed the grate and turned back to face her guests. Blue-green eyes looked out from a delicate face that had only been gently brushed by the passing of time. Ringlets of white-gold hair were tucked back behind her slightly-pointed ears, and her eyes turned down out of respect for the Consul.

Alec sat up straighter. "Anything?" he asked gently.

"The surge... or whatever it was... must have been massive," she began. Seeing the alarm on Alec's face, she waved him down hurriedly. "The wards are still there, at least from what we can tell."

Aline slid her arm around her wife and gave her a Look. "You're going to give him a heart attack." She turned her dark eyes back to Alec. "If the surge did anything, it's probably only causing some temporary 'short circuits'. Some of the lines look a bit frazzled, like when some demons get through."

"Frazzled?" Simon broke in. "Is that a technical term? Because it's not very reassuring." He hunched down deeper into his blanket. "In fact, I'm going to go so far as to say that it's downright disturbing."

Aline tossed back her dark hair. "Frazzling is normal." She looked back at the Consul and jerked her thumb at Simon. "Tell him it's normal."

Alec nodded in agreement, and Simon's mouth fell open in shock. "How can you be okay with frazzle-y wards? Like, as in the ones that keep the monsters out?"

"They only mostly keep them out," Helen corrected helpfully.

"Oh, well! That's fine, then." Simon threw his hands up in exasperation before he realized that would let out a lot of the warmth from his blanket, and he yanked them back in. "Why am I the only one freaking out about this?"

"Because you spent more time writing in the Codex than reading it," Jace said scathingly. "Even an Ascendant should know that demons get through the wards."

"Yeah," Simon said defensively. "Through nice, un-frazzled wards. Forgive me if I get worried about what happens if they aren't in the best shape – I remember what happened when Sebastian smashed them in the Dark War." He tapped a finger to his temple while keeping the rest of his hand inside the blanket. "I didn't have to read that."

Clary sighed and dropped into the loveseat, fiddling with a tattered throw pillow. "You have to get over the frazzle thing, Simon. Helen and Aline have gotten pretty good at reading the runes and energy up here. They send fire messages to Alicante when they see anything worth mentioning, and then Alec can alert the Institutes in the area to send extra patrols or beef up existing ones."

"Some of the wards look... shocked," Helen added. "But the earth's magic can heal and renew them, in time."

"How much time?" Simon still looked worried, and he wasn't encouraged when Helen shook her head.

"It's difficult to say. But we will need to be extra vigilant in the coming days."

Alec bridged his fingers together and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "This is the worst possible time for Alicante to be without a Consul."

"They've got Everett, don't they?" Jace said bitterly.

Alec fixed him with a hard stare. "It's not a joke, Jace. This isn't just about Alicante now, it's about the whole world. If we can't hold together, we could lose everything." He looked back to Helen and Aline. "Can you tell where the... frazzle... happened?"

Aline nodded. "One was near Buenos Aires, and a second one looked like it was close to Cairo. We can look for more damage when it's light out again, but we just wanted to get an idea of what we might be dealing with, just in case."

"Good idea," Alec agreed.

"Okay, wait a minute," Simon broke in again, his hands held up inside the blanket and gesturing ineffectively. "If the wards can heal themselves right back up, why do demons get through at all? Why hasn't the damage from the Incursion been fixed yet?" He stuck his tongue out at Jace. "I did read it."

Clary threw a pillow at him. "That's what we've been working on for the last three years. Whatever Lilith and Sammael did, they made damn sure that the wards couldn't recover from it."

The kettle started to whistle and Helen went to retrieve it to start a pot of tea brewing in the miniscule kitchen nook while Clary continued. "We know that demon blood is needed to take down the wards."

Simon snorted. "Yeah, we definitely know that."

"Are you going to let me finish?" Clary stood with her hands on her hips and Simon recognized the deadly posture.

"Sorry. I'll shut up."

"Praise Raziel," Jace muttered.

Clary held up a finger to silence each of them and briefly considered changing which finger she was using. "What we've been speculating is that they sort of... locked... the damage they did to the wards. If you could just take the lock off, then the wards could be renewed by the earth the way that they're supposed to be. But instead, you need a key to turn in the lock. As long as it stays jammed, the damage doesn't get fixed."

Simon looked like he was dying to ask what the key was, but he was struggling with his promise to shut up. Izzy cut in for him instead, arms crossed over her jacket. "What kind of key?"

Clary shrugged helplessly. "Honestly, we're just guessing our brains out here. But if you think about it logically, they mixed their blood to do what they did. So maybe that's what you need to change it."

"The only problem is," Aline said as she passed around mugs of tea, "Sammael hasn't been seen on the Mortal plane for a thousand years, give or take a century, and Lilith..." she trailed off.

"... was turned into a pile of kosher salt by yours truly." Simon said with a grin.

"You are never going to stop going on about that, are you?" Jace sighed.

"And how many Greater Demons have you dispatched, blondie?" Simon shot back.

"This week?" Jace asked innocently.

"Could. You. Two. Just. Not." Clary seethed through her teeth.

Another flash of blue light shone through the window by the front door and cut off any further argument. The door opened again to blast away the heat and admit three more people into the now alarmingly-crowded cabin.

Magnus shook out his long, grey hair and winked at his husband as he peeled off an outrageous fur coat and looked around the tiny room. "Wow. Sardines have it easy." He scratched at the bushy white moustache on his upper lip.

Max and Rafe Lightwood-Bane were a little too old to throw themselves at Alec, but he rose from the couch and pulled them each into a three-way hug, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

"I love hugs!" Magnus piled on behind his sons as the rest of the Shadowhunters in the room looked on awkwardly.

Alec broke away and looked at his husband with one eyebrow arched for the unusual appearance. Magnus smiled widely. "I'm in disguise, sweet pea. Too many people would recognize my fabulous face in Alicante."

The Shadowhunter shook his head, unable to hide the smile that came from the relief of knowing that his family was safe and together. He reached up and took hold of one side of the moustache to rip it off. Magnus yelped and clapped a hand up over the sting of the glue being pulled away. "If that had been real, we would be having a very serious conversation right now!"

"If that had been real, we would be getting a very serious divorce right now," Alec answered.

Jace stepped between the couple. "Okay. That's enough. We actually were having a serious conversation. What's going on in Alicante, Magnus?"

The warlock's face sobered immediately. "The Gard stands, Everett's nowhere to be found. Inquisitor Everdale is dead. I put in some mostly-anonymous calls to whoever I could reach, so there's at least a handful of warlocks working to contain the fires as much as they can." His cat eyes were sad. "The Nephilim are in crisis-mode, just trying to save one life at a time. There's no organization at all." He took his husband's hand. "I'm sorry."

Alec closed his eyes. His city was burning. He should be there helping. Instead, he was sitting on the edge of the world freezing. He felt his resolve tighten. "Don't be sorry. Be ready to fight." Magnus looked at him in confusion, but Alec pressed on. "If Alicante can't do what needs to be done, then it'll have to be us. The Institutes have enough autonomy that they can hold their pockets of the world, but it won't be enough, not if demons start pressing up against the wards to take advantage of us in our time of crisis."

Magnus squeezed his hand gently. "You aren't Consul anymore, Alec. Everett saw to that."

Alec shook his head and pulled his hand away. "It's not a seal or a desk that made me Consul." He touched his chest. "It's what's in here. Let him sit in my wooden cage for me, I'm done pushing paper."

Jace's eyes blazed as he looked at his parabatai, and a slow smile curved up his lips as he listened to his oldest friend.

"I'm going to do everything in my power to hold our shattered Clave together, whether they want it or not. And if that means running and fighting in the shadows to stay free of Everett, then so be it. I won't let him destroy us while he sits paralysed in Alicante, if he's still alive. What's done is done. A city is just a city, even the Glass City." His eyes burned with intensity. "It's the people that we have to save."

The energy in the room was shifting, building. Alec's voice drew them in, and they all found themselves nodding subconsciously in response to his need.

"Clary, Helen, Aline," his eyes captured them. "I need you here. You know the wards the best. Whatever you find, send it on to Alicante, but send duplicates to me. If Everett doesn't act, I want to make sure I'm already standing where I need to be to blunt the force of any demon attacks. If he sends reinforcements like he's supposed to, so much the better, and I'll stay a step ahead of him. Hunter and Aspen will be safe here with you." The three women nodded silently, spellbound by the Consul in his prime.

"Iz, Simon, I want you with Rafe and Max. Use the contacts and network of the Recruiters to get to as many of the Ascendents and Institute Heads as you can. Make them understand that Alicante is just stone. We have to protect the Mundanes and Downworlders who depend on us. Max can get you around. No runic Portals. Keep moving." His gaze shifted to his sons where they stood waiting for instructions. "You two, help them where you can, but I want your main focus to be on the Downworlders as you go. The Nephilim will need their allies more than ever now. Send anyone you can find to help the wounded in the city, and get the fighters of the clans and packs on the alert for increased demonic activity. They have to grasp how dangerous this could be for all of us, not just the Shadowhunters."

Max acknowledged his orders by ducking his head for a moment as his blue eyes looked down at the floor. He had become so accustomed to seeing his father as Consul, as a politician, that he was a little awed to see the warrior spirit flickering to life inside him. It was waking up a part of Alec that had laid dormant for years. Max felt a flush of pride that he was being given a part to play in this; he'd been on the sidelines for too long. "Where will you be, father?" he asked fiercely, blue eyes shining with excitement.

Alec clenched one fist and exhaled. "Buenos Aires. The first strike looks like it will land there."

Rafe's gaze lifted. He had been quiet, standing back near the wall to listen and observe. But mention of his birth city made him stir, and haunting memories of his earliest years in those streets surfaced. "Ten cuidado con fuego, padre," he cautioned quietly in fluid Spanish. "If Everett's poison has spread beyond Alicante, not all may be pleased to see you."

Alec's face softened for a moment from the concern in his elder son's voice, and he took Magnus' hand in his own. "We'll keep each other safe, Rafe."

"And what about me?" Jace asked. His mind was on his parabatai, but his heart was with his wife. Alec's eyes flicked over to where Clary had gone to stand with Aline and Helen. He bowed his head for a moment.

"I need you with me," he said quietly.

Izzy very tactfully began shuffling Simon out of the armchair and shooing Rafe and Max to get them moving and break up the silence.

Clary moved to her husband's side. "Go with him, Jace," she urged.

"But you and Aspen..." he started to protest.

"...will be absolutely fine without you." Her green eyes looked up at him with a fire burning behind them, the same kind of fire that had stolen everything but their family away from them. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I think this is what we were born to do Jace. Alec needs you. If he's right, and I think he is, he's going to need the most brilliant strategist ever to take eight involuntary sabbaticals from the Scholomance." Jace smiled, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "And if you think for one second that you could possibly be more useful than me trying to work with the runes and wards here, I will personally sew you into a sack of live ducks. Naked. Covered in bread crumbs." He laughed around her finger and pulled her into a deep kiss.

"Well, when you put it that way..." He leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers as the others bustled around and mugs piled up on the counter.

Clary's face grew serious. "You have to go do what you're good at, Jace. And you have to let me do what I'm good at. Our whole lives had been leading up to this."

He kissed her again and then they broke apart to say goodbye as those who were leaving made ready to depart. Jace ducked into the bedroom to see his daughter one more time before heading out, and he looked down at Hunter's sleeping face wistfully. He hoped they would be alright.

Shadowhunters didn't like goodbyes. You always had to tell yourself that everyone would come back. Alec watched with a mixture of pride and guilt as the others got ready to leave, to follow his orders for better or for worse.

His husband, his sons, his parabatai, his sister, his sister-in-law, even his nerdy brother-in-law... he had so much to lose if he was wrong. But he could feel it in his blood. He wasn't wrong. What worried him now was just how right he might turn out to be.

The late afternoon sun was setting over Alicante as Everett Whitelock climbed the steps of the Gard, as if it could no longer bear to illuminate the scarred ruins of the Glass City. His grey eyes took in the smoking heap that was all that remained of the Consul's home across the square and his lips tightened. No bodies had been found there. It came as no surprise that Lightwood had fled; many had. It only mattered when and where he would surface, and what he would do.

The hallways of the Gard were oddly silent, the heavy walls shutting away the city outside, its Shadowhunters desperately engaged in digging through the ashes for loved ones. His home in the city had been spared from the treacherous Unseelie because he had been wise enough never to trust them as so many others had. And look what that trust had bought.

The blame for today could be laid squarely at Alec Lightwood's feet, that Faerie-loving embarrassment of a Shadowhunter so insistent that the Fey be forgiven for their actions. There could be no forgiveness now. When the night sky had exploded into flame, Everett had watched in a sort of numb shock. The city had finally been within his grasp and then it had gone up in smoke.

Some had come looking to him for guidance, their fists pounding on a door untouched by fire, but he had not answered. He had looked over the city from the shadows of his balcony, listened to the screams and the cries below in a detached haze. It was impossible. What could any one man do in the face of a disaster like this?

His fingers tightened on the girl's dream diary in his hands as he slipped up to the third floor and down the familiar hall of expensive wood panelling to the Consul's office – no, his office. Sera. Her name was like a curse in his mind. She had seen this and had said nothing. She and that Morgenstern boy had stirred up the Fey like a hornet's nest. She was as much to blame as Lightwood.

The door opened easily and he crossed the room to the desk, tossing the book down on top of a folded sheet of paper laying there. He sat down heavily and flipped open the pages of the notebook to stare at the hurried scrawl within, his eyes drifting over the words without seeing them. His fingers traced the letters absently.

He wondered what it would be like to see the future, to know your enemy's moves before they made them. To find solutions to impossible situations. He'd read enough about her efforts to save the Morgenstern boy to know that there were dozens of different ways she could have failed. That she had failed, if only in her dreams. A hundred nights of dress-rehearsal for a single performance when the time had come. But she had done it.

He breathed in the scent of the pages, imagined her hand gliding across them as she poured Heaven's gift into the book. Selfish. That's what she was. His mouth twisted as he considered her choices. She had been given a weapon unlike any other Shadowhunter before her, and what had she chosen to do with it? She'd saved herself a pretty boy and amassed a fortune. Where was the honour in that? What right did she have to keep this ability to herself?

Everett's eyes remained unfocused as he continued to obsessively run his fingers across her writing, fantasizing about the power he would have with her gift harnessed for his use. If she could find a way to snatch that boy from the Courts, she could be made to find a way to save this city. The idea began to take a hold of him as he envisioned her kneeling at his feet, obediently whispering the secrets of the future. He would never be caught unaware by his enemies. It was intoxicating. The power.

His hand slipped down and caught the edge of the page under the notebook and his fantasy faded away when he unfolded the fire message.

Consul,

Possible damage to the world's wards, Buenos Aires and Cairo may be threatened. Please send help and warn them to beware of an increased demon presence in the area.

Helen Blackthorn

He crumpled the page in his fist. That Faerie bitch, he thought viciously. Already trying to manipulate him into dividing what few Shadowhunters remained in Alicante. Probably trying to drain away as many of the fighters as possible so the Fey could come and finish the job.

Everett spun around and rose from the chair to look out over ruined Alicante again. Why would he spend one more Nephilim life to save the Mundanes? Why should only his city burn so that theirs could stand? Shadowhunters had fought in secret for centuries without acknowledgement or thanks, their dead mourned only by their own, their sacrifices unrecognized by the sheep they defended.

He whirled away from the window, heart pounding with the rage and disgust he was feeling. The missive was hurled into the basket under the desk without another thought. The Mundanes were just going to have to fend for themselves until he could find a solution. Nephilim warriors had held the front lines for a thousand years; now they needed to take care of themselves.

The door to the office opened hesitantly and a face poked around the edge. Everett knew the face but couldn't place the name of the Shadowhunter who practically fell inside with relief when he saw the Consul.

"Thank the Angel! I thought I saw someone come into the Gard, and I had to see if it was you." His sun-browned face was streaked with ash, and rags were wrapped around his filthy hands where he had likely been pulling aside the hot wreckage of homes all day. He looked at Everett anxiously. "What do we do now, Consul?"

Everett hesitated. This wasn't how he had pictured his first day on the job. It was a goddamn mess. He felt the same sense of despair that he had earlier when he had let himself dwell on what one man could possibly do to fix this. He decided to stall. "What's being done now?"

"We're still searching the buildings for survivors and salvaging what we can. Some warlocks arrived in the night to help, but they're slowed down by having to Portal outside the city and come in over land. One of them, Seraphine Lark, has been asking for permission to use the Gard Portal to help expedite the evacuation of the wounded." The Shadowhunter broke off when he saw the Consul's eyes flash.

"Seraphine Lark?" he repeated. What a stroke of good fortune. His eyes didn't even need to look down at the dream diary on his desk.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll speak with her myself. Keep the others searching. Send her to me."

The Shadowhunter nodded gratefully, relieved that the Consul was going to take charge of the situation, and he backed out of the office to carry out his orders.

Everett watched him go and then turned back to stare out the window. Seraphine Lark. The witch's closest friend. His efforts to track the girl using her notebook had come up against some sort of block, and now he had an excellent idea of who had arranged for that.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Seraphine hurled at Everett as she stormed through his office door in a fury. Her tiny frame was practically shaking with anger as she took in his clean face and hands, his unstained clothes. She looked like an absolute disaster, a demon dragged through hellish ash pits. Half-healed burns dotted her arms where wreckage had shifted and fallen in on her, and the end of her tail was hastily bandaged where it had trailed down into some smoking embers when she had stopped to rest for a moment.

She stalked right up to him, head tilting back to glare furiously as she jabbed a finger at his chest. "You wanted the job, but you need to actually do it!"

His hand whipped up and closed over hers in a crushing grip, her finger bending back painfully far. "You'll use a civil tongue with me, warlock, or you'll find that you no longer have one," he warned.

Seraphine simmered and considered blasting him right through the window, but something in his eyes made her stop. She didn't like what she saw there. She felt a spike of fear and backed down, shoulders falling from where they had been tensed for a confrontation. Whatever else he might be, he was still one of the Nephilim, and she doubted that he had called her to meet with him without taking precautions.

"Then help your people, Whitelock," she said in a more even tone. "Open the Gard Portal. We're completely exhausted trying to ferry so many out of the city and send them through to Institutes for care. Not to mention all the healing and sifting through the debris. We can't keep on like this."

Everett sneered. "I thought you Downworlders wanted to be equals. You'll have to do your part, just like everyone else."

"And what part are you doing?" She couldn't help it. Seraphine was generally a very sweet person, but this cat had claws when it was angry.

"What I can," he answered cryptically. "I'll give you access to the Gard Portal if you tell me how to find your little friend."

She caught sight of a familiar notebook laying open on the Consul's desk behind Everett. Sera. She had seen Rayce's bangle on her friend's arm, a little bent to make it fit, but she hadn't given it another thought. Now she understood.

"You won't find her," Seraphine said, shaking her head. "I enchanted an armband to block tracking. As long as she's wearing it, you'll never get your hands on her. Even I couldn't find her now." She felt a fierce flash of pride.

"Is that so?" Everett whispered, taking a step to close the distance between them. His grey eyes were bright as he looked down at her with a controlled half-smile, and Seraphine felt herself shaking not with anger, but with fear.

The false Consul reached up almost tenderly and brushed a few of her short black curls back, dislodging a shower of ash as he did so. It was like having a viper's tongue flick at her face and she held still as he leaned in, bracing herself. "If I find that you've lied to me..." His fingers tightened in her hair brutally and she gasped in pain. He bared his teeth at her savagely. "Understand?"

She nodded faintly, hating herself, and then he released his grip.

"Get out," he said darkly.

Seraphine drew in a shuddering breath and retreated through the doorway, never taking her eyes off the madman in front of the Consul's desk.

It was good that she couldn't see the gleam in his eye as he looked down at the black hair in his now ash-streaked hand.