“Glory?” Kieran raised an eyebrow. “Do they mean the time of freely killing Downworlders? When our blood ran in the streets and their houses were stuffed with the spoils of their one-sided war?”

“Yes,” said Magnus, “though they wouldn’t describe it that way.”

“Heading up the Alliance, we’ve heard more than a little about the Cohort,” said Alec. “Their pushes to limit warlocks’ use of their magic, to centralize blood supply for vampires so it can be monitored by the Clave—those have not gone unnoticed.”

“They must not be allowed to get their hands on an Institute,” said Magnus. “That could be potentially disastrous.” He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the table. “I understand we must give the Black Volume to the Queen. But I don’t like it, especially since it seems doubly important here.”

“You mean because Annabel and Malcolm stole it from the Cornwall Institute,” said Ty. “And then Malcolm stole it again, from the Institute in Los Angeles.”

“The first time they were going to trade it to someone who they thought could protect them from the Clave,” said Livvy. “The second time was with the Unseelie King’s help. At least, according to Emma and Jules.”

“And how did they find that out?” asked Magnus.

“It was in one of the books they found,” said Cristina. “A diary. It explains why we found an Unseelie Court glove at the ruins of Malcolm’s house. He must have met with the King or one of his sons there.”

“Odd thing to write in a diary,” Magnus muttered. “ ‘Traitorous plans with the Unseelie King afoot today, what ho.’”

“Odder that Malcolm disappeared from the Silent City after the first theft,” said Mark, “and left Annabel to take the blame and the punishment.”

“Why odd?” said Livvy. “He was a terrible person.”

“But he did love Annabel,” Cristina said. “Everything he did, the crimes, the murders, all his choices were made for love of her. And when he found out she hadn’t become an Iron Sister, but had been murdered by her family, he went to the King of Faeries and asked for help in bringing her back. Don’t you remember?”

Mark did remember, the story in the old book Tavvy had found, which had turned out to be true. “Which explains why Malcolm broke into the Los Angeles Institute to get the book five years ago,” he said. “To bring Annabel back. But what did Malcolm want it for, two hundred years ago? Who was he planning to trade it to? Most necromancers couldn’t help him with protection. And if it was a warlock, it would have to have been one stronger than Malcolm himself.”

“ ‘Fade’s powerful ally,’ ” Ty said, quoting the scene in the crystal.

“We don’t think it could have been the Unseelie King?” Livvy said. “Both times?”

“The Unseelie King didn’t hate Shadowhunters in 1812,” said Magnus. “At least, not that much.”

“And Malcolm told Emma that when he went to the Unseelie King after he found out that Annabel wasn’t dead, he thought the King might kill him, because he disliked warlocks,” said Cristina. “He wouldn’t have a reason to dislike warlocks if he’d worked with Malcolm before, would he?”

Magnus stood up. “All right, enough guesswork,” he said. “We have two duties to carry out today. First, we shouldn’t lose sight of the binding spell on Mark and Cristina. It’s more than just a nuisance, it’s a danger to them both.”

Mark couldn’t help glancing at Cristina. She was looking down at the table, not at him. He remembered the night before, the warmth of her body beside him in bed, her breath in his ear.

He came back to reality with a start, realizing that a discussion of where they were going to get the ingredients for an anti-binding spell was underway. “Given what happened at the Shadow Market yesterday,” Magnus added, “none of us will be welcomed back there again. There is, however, a shop here in London that sells what I need. If I give you the address, can Kit, Ty, and Livvy find it?”

Livvy and Ty clamored their agreement, clearly thrilled to have a mission. Kit was quieter, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. Somehow, this youngest Herondale had become so attached to the twins, even Magnus thought of them as a team.

“Do you really think it’s wise for them to go?” Mark interrupted. “After what happened yesterday, with them sloping off to the Shadow Market and practically getting Livvy killed?”

“But, Mark—” Ty protested.

“Well,” said Magnus, “you and Cristina should stay inside the Institute. Binding spells are dangerous, and you shouldn’t be too far away from each other. Alec’s the Institute head; he should stay here, and anyway—the owner of the shop has a certain, let’s say, history with me. Better I don’t go.”

“I could go,” said Dru, in a small voice.

“Not by yourself, Dru,” said Mark. “And these three”—he indicated Kit, Ty, and Livvy—“will just get you in trouble.”

“I can put a tracking spell on one of them,” said Magnus. “If they wander off the path they’re supposed to follow, it’ll make an awful noise mundanes can hear.”

“Delightful,” said Mark as the twins protested. Kit didn’t say anything—he rarely complained. Mark suspected he was silently plotting to get even instead, possibly with everyone he’d ever met.

Magnus examined a large blue ring on his finger. “We’ll do library research. More about the history of the Black Volume. We don’t know who created it, but perhaps who owned it in the past, what it was used for, anything that might point to who Malcolm was working with in 1812.”

“And remember what Julian and Emma asked us for help with,” said Cristina, tapping the phone in her pocket. “It should only take a few minutes to look it up . . . .”

Mark couldn’t help staring at her. She was tucking her dark hair behind her ears, and as she did, the sleeve of her sweater slipped down and he saw the red mark on her wrist. He wanted to go to her, to kiss the mark, to take her pain onto himself.

He looked away from her, but not before he caught the edge of a glance from Kieran. Ty and Livvy and Kit were getting out of their chairs, excitedly chattering, eager to go on their trip. Dru was sitting with her arms crossed. And Magnus was looking between Cristina, Mark, and Kieran thoughtfully, his cat eyes slow and considering.

“We shouldn’t need to look it up at all,” Magnus said. “We have a primary source right here. Kieran, what do you know about catching piskies?”

* * *

Emma woke late in the morning, surrounded by warmth. Light was breaking through the unshaded windows and making patterns on the walls like dancing waves. Through the window she could see flashes of blue sky and blue water: a holiday view.

She yawned, stretched—and went still as she realized why she was so warm. She and Julian had somehow wrapped themselves around each other during the night.

Emma froze in horror. Her left arm was thrown across Julian’s body, but she couldn’t just remove it. He had turned toward her, his own arms curved around her back, securing her. Her cheek brushed the smooth skin of his collarbone. Their legs were tangled together as well, her foot resting on his ankle.