For a moment, Emma saw through Clary’s expression into the past, remembering the girl who’d chased her into a small room in the Gard, refused to leave her alone and grieving, who’d told her, Heroes aren’t always the ones who win. They’re the ones who lose, sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They don’t give up.

That’s what makes them heroes.

They were words that had carried Emma through some of the worst times of her life.

“Clary,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“Nightshade,” Emma said. “The vampire, you know—”

Clary looked surprised. “The head vampire of L.A.? The one you guys discovered was using dark magic?”

“It was true, right? He really was using illegal magic?”

Clary nodded. “Yes, of course. Everything in his restaurant was tested. He certainly was. He wouldn’t be in prison now if he hadn’t been!” She put a hand lightly atop Emma’s. “I know the Clave sucks sometimes,” she said. “But there are a lot of people in it who try to be fair. Anselm really was a bad guy.”

Emma nodded, wordless. It wasn’t Anselm she’d been doubting, after all.

It was Julian.

Clary’s mouth curved into a smile. “All right, enough of the boring stuff,” she said. “Tell me something fun. You haven’t talked about your love life in ages. Are you still dating that Cameron Ashdown guy?”

Emma shook her head. “I’m—I’m dating Mark.”

“Mark?” Clary looked as if Emma had handed her a two-headed lizard. “Mark Blackthorn?”

“No, a different Mark. Yes, Mark Blackthorn.” A touch of defensiveness crept into Emma’s voice. “Why not?”

“I just—I never would have pictured you together.” Clary looked legitimately stunned.

“Well, who did you picture me with? Cameron?”

“No, not him.” Clary pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. “That’s just the thing,” she said. “I—I mean, who I pictured you with, it doesn’t make any sense.” She met Emma’s confused look with a lowering of her eyes. “I guess it was nothing. If you’re happy with Mark, I’m happy for you.”

“Clary, what are you not telling me?”

There was a long silence. Clary looked out toward the dark water. Finally she spoke. “Jace asked me to marry him.”

“Oh!” Emma had already begun opening her arms to hug the other girl when she caught sight of Clary’s expression. She froze. “What’s wrong?”

“I said no.”

“You said no?” Emma dropped her arms. “But you’re here—together—are you not still . . . ?”

Clary rose to her feet. She stood at the roof’s edge, looking out toward the sea. “We’re still together,” she said. “I told Jace I needed more time to think about it. I’m sure he thinks I’m out of my mind, or—well, I don’t know what he thinks.”

“Do you?” Emma asked. “Need more time?”

“To decide if I want to marry Jace? No.” Clary’s voice was tense with an emotion Emma couldn’t decipher. “No. I know the answer. Of course I want to. There’s never going to be anyone else for me. That’s just how it is.”

Something in the matter-of-factness of her voice sent a slight shiver through Emma. There’s never going to be anyone else for me. There was a recognition of kinship in that shiver, and a bit of fear, too. “Then why did you say it?”

“I used to have dreams,” Clary said. She was staring out at the path the moon left across the dark water, like a slash of white bisecting a black canvas. “When I was your age. Dreams of things that were going to happen, dreams of angels and prophecies. After the Dark War was over, they stopped. I thought they wouldn’t start again, but just these past six months, they have.”

Emma felt a bit lost. “Dreams?”

“They’re not as clear as they used to be. But there’s a sense—a knowing something awful is coming. Like a wall of darkness and blood. A shadow that spreads out over the world and blots out everything.” She swallowed. “There’s more, though. Not so much an image of something happening, but a knowledge.”

Emma stood up. She wanted to put a hand on Clary’s shoulder, but something held her back. This wasn’t Clary, the girl who’d comforted her when her parents had died. This was Clary who’d gone into the demon realm of Edom and killed Sebastian Morgenstern. Clary who’d faced down Raziel. “A knowledge of what?”

“That I’m going to die,” Clary said. “Not a long time from now. Soon.”

“Is this about your mission? Do you think something’s going to happen to you?”

“No—no, nothing like that,” Clary said. “It’s hard to explain. It’s a knowledge that it will happen, but not exactly when, or how.”

“Everyone’s afraid of dying,” Emma said.

“Everyone isn’t,” said Clary, “and I’m not, but I am afraid of leaving Jace. I’m afraid of what it would do to him. And I think being married would make it worse. It alters things, being married. It’s a promise to stay with someone else. But I couldn’t promise to stay for very long—” She looked down. “I realize it sounds ridiculous. But I know what I know.”

There was a long silence. The sound of the ocean rushed under the quiet between them, and the sound of the wind in the desert. “Have you told him?” Emma asked.

“I haven’t told anyone but you.” Clary turned and looked at Emma anxiously. “I’m asking you for a favor. A huge one.” She took a deep breath. “If I do die, I want you to tell them—Jace and the others—that I knew. I knew I was going to die and I wasn’t scared. And tell Jace this is why I said no.”

“I—but why me?”

“There isn’t anyone else I know I could tell this to without them freaking out or thinking I was having a breakdown and needed a therapist—well, in Simon’s case, that’s what he’d say.” Clary’s eyes were suspiciously bright as she said her parabatai’s name. “And I trust you, Emma.”

“I’ll do it,” Emma said. “And of course you can trust me, I won’t tell anyone, but—”

“I didn’t mean I trusted you to keep it a secret,” Clary said. “Though I do. In my dreams, I see you with Cortana in your hand.” She stretched upward, nearly on her tiptoes, and kissed Emma on the forehead. It was almost a motherly gesture. “I trust you to always keep fighting, Emma. I trust you not to ever give up.”

* * *

It wasn’t until they got back into the car that Kit noticed that his knuckles were bleeding. He hadn’t felt the pain when he punched the sign, but he felt it now.

Julian, about to start the car, hesitated. “I could heal you,” he said. “With an iratze.”

“A what now?”

“A healing rune,” said Julian. “It’s one of the gentlest. So it would make sense if it was your first.”