CHAPTER SIX

Jonah knelt at the edge of the water. The rising moon cast buttery ripples over the smooth, glassy surface of the lake, and though the trees swayed gently above Jonah's head, the reflection didn't appear in the water.

"The portal," Jonah whispered. That manic grin that had crept on and off his face all day since he had discovered the faerie message was back again. "Finally." The breeze caused strands of his hair to fly across his forehead- he wiped them away with one hand and allowed himself a second of doubt.

What if the other Shadowhunters at the Institute- the ones he had befriended- discovered? That one girl, Bailey, was already suspicious- Jonah could see it in the hard set of her eyes whenever she looked at him. Jonah's teeth gritted together. By the time that they discover this, everything will be in perfect order, he consoled himself. Everything will be perfect.

Jonah looked out at the lake and pulled a deep breath of the sparkling, crystalline twilight air into his lungs, and then stepped into the water.

The glassiness didn't shift. Jonah's jeans were completely dry. He smiled up at the cold moon, wading farther in, deeper, until-

He felt a small circle beneath the sole of his foot, digging into his heel. Jonah bent, fingers scrabbling around a small ball, and held it up. It was a bell on a small, knotted string. Of course. Jonah laid the bell in his palm.

And then he rang it, and the clear chime shattered the night, just as a whirling spiral took over Jonah's vision. He was whirling, spinning, still gripping the bell-

It was over.

Jonah's feet hit the ground and he stumbled, throwing out his hands to break his fall. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his head.

He was standing in a hallway, still holding the small bell in one hand. The hallway was narrow, with a curtain of tightly woven plants at the end... the way to the Seelie Court. Relief broke over Jonah, like a wave of cool, clear water, and he grinned to himself.

"Goldwalker." The curt voice came from behind Jonah- he turned to see Mai standing behind him. Delicate golden curls fell around her finely boned face. Her skin had a creamy, almost pearly hue to it, and she was clothed in a robe of gold and red, the smoky and raw colors of autumn. Her eyes were dark. "You came."

"Yes." Jonah didn't meet her eyes.

Mai pursed her lips. "Let me see the message." Jonah obliged, carefully taking the leaf from his pocket- Mai gripped it in her fingertips, eyes narrowing as she read the writing.

"Good," she said, tossing the leaf away. "The Seelie Queen awaits."

Excitement fizzled in Jonah's fingertips. He followed Mai to the end of the hallway, where she carefully pushed back the curtain, revealing the Court.

Jonah was stunned every single time that he saw the Court. It was beautiful, and yet terrible, with the will-o-wisps nailed to the wall, wailing every now and then in pain, their dying glow illuminating the cavern. In the middle of the Court was a throne, painted a deep auburn color, with vines twisting and twirling up the sides. Fresh roses sat at a pair of darkly slippered feet... Jonah's eyes rose until he met the Seelie Queen's face.

The Seelie Queen was beautiful, but there was something behind her face, something that made Jonah uneasy. He focused on her dark red hair, her pale skin, and bowed.

"Finally. I thought that I was going to have to wait forever." The Seelie Queen heaved a small sigh, and flicked her hand at Mai and the other faeries lingering in the room. "Go." Her eyes bored into Jonah's. "He and I must talk."

Respectfully, the faeries scurried out, leaving Jonah and the Seelie Queen in silence. A slight nervousness bubbled in Jonah's stomach- he clasped his hands behind his back so that the Queen wouldn't see his merciless picking of the skin around his thumbnail. "You sent me a message," he said hesitantly.

"Yes, I did." The Seelie Queen examined her nails carelessly.

When she didn't go on, Jonah ventured, "May I ask... my lady, may I ask why you summoned me here?" He shifted his weight slightly from foot to foot, unable to keep his excitement contained.

The Seelie Queen narrowed her eyes at him. "Very well." She stood from her throne, tossing back her hair in a wave of scarlet, to come and stand in front of Jonah. He tried to keep as still as possible, as though playing dead would help him.

"You've been in and out of the Institute, I trust?" she asked him. Jonah nodded.

"And you've befriended the Herondale boy?"

"Benjamin? Yes." Jonah nodded again, biting the inside of his cheek.

The Seelie Queen tilted her head to the side. The corners of her red lips turned up in a slight smile, with a warmth that did not reach her eyes. "Have you heard of the Nephilim slaughterings lately, Jonah?" she asked.

Jonah nodded his head vigorously. "It's all over the Institute, my lady. That's the only thing the Nephilim have been talking about for weeks."

The Seelie Queen nodded. "I am glad to hear that." She started to walk back and forth in front of Jonah, her pale, slim hands knotted behind her back. "Do you know who has been slaughtering the Nephilim?"

Jonah froze, his breath catching. He wasn't sure what to say. He was almost certain that it was the fey who were responsible for the killings, but he wasn't sure wether the Seelie Queen would take pride in the fact or instantly kill him.

"Um. Well..." Jonah stuttered. "I think that... um, it was, well-"

"Cut to the point, Jonah." The Seelie Queen's voice was sickly sweet- her eyes didn't meet Jonah's. She continued to pace.

Jonah hated how small he felt. He held onto his last shred of dignity. "...You, my lady?"

The Seelie Queen smiled. "Yes." She turned to Jonah. "The fey have been killing the Nephilim. And do you know why?" She didn't wait for Jonah's response. "It is because of them. The Children of the Angel." She spat it out, like it tasted bitter in her mouth. "The Downworlders and the Nephilim have always had a strange relationship, but we have always felt like the Nephilim are more in control." The smile was gone from her face- her features seemed icy and frozen. "Why should they have the control? Though the blood of the Angel runs through their veins, they should not have the majority of the power."

Jonah's eyebrows were disappearing into his flyaway, jumbled hair- he could barely resist asking, "What are you saying, my lady?"

"I think that you know what I'm saying." The Seelie Queen stepped closer to him- Jonah could feel her breath on his face- he resisted the urge to flinch or to step back. The Seelie Queen's face was inches from his own. He could see every glimmer of light in her eyes. "We will take over the power from the Nephilim," the Seelie Queen hissed, and an insane joy came over her face. "We will take over the power. All of the Downworlders. Together."

Bailey lay awake in the tiny, sparse, dark bedroom, tangled up in the sheets, her eyes wide open.

She groaned inwardly and pressed her face into her pillow. Her eyes itched with exhaustion, but sleep wouldn't come. It was almost like her body was intentionally fighting it. You need to get some rest before the Clave meeting, she told herself. You need to sleep.

But however she might try, sleep wasn't coming. Giving up, Bailey flicked on her light, blinking a few times to adjust her eyes. From across the room, she heard rustling, and Nora sat up.

"Are you still awake?" Nora whispered sleepily. Her dark hair was in curls around her face, and her eyes were half-mast. She yawned. "Go to sleep."

"I can't." Bailey pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead.

"Well, try." Nora had every right to sound annoyed, but she didn't- the other girl just sank down onto her pillows and yawned again. "You need some rest before the Clave meeting."

"Everyone's telling me that." Bailey didn't mean to snap, but it came out that way. "Everyone's telling me that it's going to be okay, that the Clave will solve anything..." she pressed a hand to her stomach. "But I can feel it. I can feel it, Nora, it's not going to be." Her words turned agonized. "They can't do anything about this, if more Nephilim keep dying..."

Nora didn't speak. Bailey turned off the light, thinking she had gone to sleep, and laid back down, trying to close her eyes.

"I think that you're right," Nora whispered into the darkness. "I don't want to. But I think that you're right."

Clary stared into the dark, not really seeing anything, just recounting all of the events from today. When her mind traveled over her conversation with Bailey, her stomach squeezed tightly, causing an ache in her chest.

Clary was the one who had found Bailey Ravenmark, a seven-year-old girl living on the streets. Clary had seen her three times, but the fourth time that she saw her, Bailey was facing down a group of demons with one seraph blade in hand and ferocity burning in her eyes. That was when Clary knew that she was a Shadowhunter. She had rushed in, pulling out her own sword and had started fighting the demons. Bailey's eyes were burning- she tried to charge one, but Clary had held her back.

Surprisingly strong for her spindly figure, Bailey had broken free and killed the demon. Afterwards, when the demons were killed, Clary had turned to look at Bailey, seeing the girl drenched in black ichor, with the same look flaming in her face and the sword in hand. She had looked like a real Shadowhunter, a street-weathered, hard-beaten girl.

Clary had taken Bailey to the Institute, where she began her training. She had always been the most voracious for learning- when her first Mark was applied, she had winced more than a normal Shadowhunter would, and that, plus her slightly pointed ears, had added up- she was part faerie. That didn't stop Bailey from learning- she was fast, eager, and vicious.

"Hey. Are you still up?"

Jace stirred beside Clary, snapping her out of her reverie. She nodded, then realized that he couldn't see it in the dark. "Yeah."

"Go to sleep already." Jace's arm circled Clary- he pulled her close to him. "Stop worrying."

"Easy for you to say," Clary muttered.

"It's not." Jace surprised her with his seriousness- she turned to look at him. In the dimness, she could just make out his figure. He was lying on his back beside her, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. "I don't like the Clave," he said suddenly.

"Yeah, neither do I. They quit looking for you when you were bound to Sebastian," Clary agreed.

"Yeah, I hate them for that, but more than that. They've always been so... Law-y," Jace finished.

"That's a word?" Clary teased him.

"No... I mean..." Jace let out a frustrated breath. "They're always so bound to the Law. I hate that about them."

"The Law is what's keeping the rouge Downworlders and all that from attacking us," Clary reminded him.

"And look how well that turned out." Jace's words were dry.

Clary searched her brain for something to say that would make him feel better. She let out a sigh and leaned over to kiss him. "Look, it will be fine." She tried to sound more confident than she felt.

Jace pursed his lips together and didn't say anything, which worried Clary more than if he had.