“Do I look all right?” he asked, appearing in the hall. Ty was gazing thoughtfully at his closed right hand, a rune glimmering on the back of it.

Livvy gave Kit a thumbs-up. “You absolutely could have been rejected from the yearly Hot Shadowhunters Calendar.”

“Rejected?” Kit demanded as they started downstairs.

Her eyes were dancing. “For being too young, of course.”

“There is no Hot Shadowhunters Calendar,” said Ty. “Both of you be quiet; we need to get out of the house without being spotted.”

They crept out the back way and down the road toward the beach, careful to avoid the night patrol. Livvy whispered to Kit that Ty was holding a hair clip that Zara had left on a table: It worked as a sort of homing beacon, pulling him in her direction. She seemed to have gone down to the beach and then walked along the sand. Livvy pointed to her footprints, in the process of being washed away by the rising tide.

“It could have been a mundane,” said Kit, for argument’s sake.

“Following this exact path?” Livvy said. “Look, we’re even zigging and zagging where she did.”

Kit couldn’t really argue. He set his mind to keeping up with Ty, who was practically flying over the dunes of sand and the boulders and uneven rocks that dotted the coastline more thickly as they moved north. He scaled an alarmingly tall wall of pitted rock and dropped down on the other side; Kit, following, almost tripped and landed face-first in the sand.

He managed to regain his footing and was relieved. He wasn’t sure who he least wanted to look like a fool in front of, Livvy or Ty. Maybe it was an equal split.

“There,” Ty said in a whisper, pointing to where a dark hole opened up in the rocky wall of the bluff that rose to divide the beach from the highway. Tumbled piles of rock jutted out into the ocean, where waves broke around them, casting silvery-white spray high into the air.

The sand had given way to rocky reef. They picked their way carefully across it, even Ty, who bent to examine something in a tide pool. He straightened with a smile and a starfish in his hand.

“Ty,” said Livvy. “Put it back, unless you’re planning on throwing it at Zara.”

“Waste of a perfectly good starfish,” muttered Kit, and Ty laughed. The salt air had tangled his arrow-straight black hair, and his eyes glowed like the moonlight on the water. Kit just stared, unable to think of anything else clever to say, as Ty gently placed the starfish back in its tide pool.

They made it to the cave opening without any other stops for wildlife. Livvy went in first, with Ty and Kit following. Kit paused as the darkness of the cave enveloped him.

“I can’t see,” he said, trying to fight his rising panic. He hated the pitch dark, but then who didn’t?

Light burst around him like the sudden appearance of a falling star. It was witchlight; Ty was holding it. “Do you want a Night Vision rune?” Livvy asked, her hand on her stele.

Kit shook his head. “No runes,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was insisting. It wasn’t as if the iratze had hurt. It just seemed like the final hurdle, the last admission that he was a Shadowhunter, not just a boy with Shadowhunter blood who had decided to make the Institute a way station while he figured out a better plan.

Whatever that plan might be. Kit tried not to brood on it as they advanced deeper into the tunnels.

“Do you think this is part of the convergence?” he heard Livvy whisper.

Ty shook his head. “No. The bluffs of the coast are riddled with caves, always have been. I mean, anything could be down here—nests of demons, vampires—but I don’t think this has anything to do with Malcolm. And the ley lines are nowhere near here.”

“I really wish you hadn’t said ‘nests of demons,’ ” said Kit. “It makes them sound like spiders.”

“Some demons are spiders,” said Ty. “The biggest one ever reported was twenty feet tall and had yard-long mandibles.”

Kit thought of the giant praying mantis demons that had ripped his father apart. It was hard to think of anything witty to say about a giant spider when you’d seen the white of your father’s rib cage.

“Shh.” Livvy held up a hand. “I hear voices.”

Kit strained his ears, but heard nothing. He suspected there was another rune he was lacking, something that would give him Superman hearing. He could see lights moving up ahead, though, around the curve of the tunnel.

They moved ahead, Kit staying to the rear of Ty and Livvy. The tunnel opened out into a massive chamber, a room with cracked granite walls, a packed-earth floor, and a smell of mold and decay. The ceiling rose into blackness.

There was a wooden table and two chairs in the middle of the room. The only light came from rune-stones placed on the table; one chair was occupied by Zara. Kit pressed himself instinctively back against the wall; on the other side of the tunnel, Livvy and Ty did the same.

Zara was examining some papers she’d spread on the table. There was a bottle of wine and a glass at her elbow. She wasn’t dressed in gear, but in a plain dark suit, her hair drawn back into an impossibly tight bun.

Kit strained to see what she was studying, but he was too far away. He could read some words etched into the table, though: FIRE WANTS TO BURN. He had no idea what they meant. Zara didn’t seem to be doing anything interesting, either; maybe she just came here to have privacy for her reading. Maybe she was secretly tired of Perfect Diego and was hiding. Who could blame her?

Zara looked up, her eyebrows creasing. Someone was coming—Kit heard the quick tread of feet, and a tousle-haired figure in jeans appeared at the far end of the room.

“It’s Manuel,” Livvy whispered. “Maybe they’re having an affair?”

“Manu,” Zara said, frowning. She didn’t sound lovelorn. “You’re late.”

“Sorry.” Manuel grinned a disarming grin and grabbed for the free chair, swinging it around so he could seat himself with his arms folded over the back. “Don’t be cross, Zara. I had to wait until Rayan and Jon fell asleep—they were in a chatty mood, and I didn’t want to chance anyone seeing me leave the Institute.” He indicated the papers. “What have you got there?”

“Updates from my father,” Zara said. “He was disappointed about the outcome of the last Council, obviously. The decision to let that half-breed Mark Blackthorn remain among decent Nephilim would offend anyone.”

Manuel picked up her glass of wine. Red lights glinted in its depths. “Still, we must look to the future,” he said. “Getting rid of Mark wasn’t the point of our journey here, after all. He’s a minor annoyance, like his siblings.”

Ty, Kit, and Livvy exchanged confused looks. Livvy’s face was tight with anger. Ty’s was expressionless, but his hands moved restlessly at his sides.

“True. The first step is the Registry,” Zara said. She patted the papers, making them rustle. “My father says the Cohort is strong in Idris, and they believe the Los Angeles Institute is ripe for the plucking. The incident with Malcolm sowed considerable doubt in the West Coast’s ability to make judgments. And the fact that the High Warlock of Los Angeles and the head of the local vampire clan both turned out to be enmeshed in dark magic—”