City of Lost Souls (18 page)

“Oh, no,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe where I was…” His voice trailed off as he saw the expression on her face. “Hey.” His fingers were suddenly under her chin, lifting her head. The laughter was gone from his eyes, replaced by concern. “What happened? Is there more news about Jace?”

“Do you know what you want?” It was Kaelie, the blue-eyed faerie waitress who had given Clary the Queen’s bell. She looked at Clary now and grinned, a superior grin that made Clary grit her teeth.

Clary ordered a piece of apple pie; Simon ordered a mix of hot chocolate and blood. Kaelie took the menus away, and Simon looked at Clary with concern. She took a deep breath and told him about the night, every gritty detail—Jace’s appearance, what he had said to her, the confrontation in the living room, and what had happened to Luke. She told him what Magnus had said about dimensional pockets and other worlds, and how there was no way to track someone hidden in a dimensional pocket or get a message through to them. Simon’s eyes grew darker as she spoke, and by the end of the story, he had his head in his hands.

“Simon?” Kaelie had come and gone, leaving their food, which was untouched. Clary touched his shoulder. “What is it? Is it Luke—”

“It’s my fault.” He looked up at her, eyes dry. Vampires cried tears mixed with blood, she thought; she had read that somewhere. “If I hadn’t bitten Sebastian…”

“You did it for me. So I’d live.” Her voice was gentle. “You saved my life.”

“You’ve saved mine six or seven times. It seemed fair.” His voice cracked; she recalled him retching up Sebastian’s black blood, on his knees in the roof garden.

“Assigning blame doesn’t get us anywhere,” Clary said. “And this isn’t why I dragged you here, just to tell you what happened. I mean, I would have told you anyway, but I would have waited for tomorrow if it weren’t that…”

He looked at her warily and took a sip from his mug. “Weren’t that what?”

“I have a plan.”

He groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

“My plans are
not
terrible.”

“Isabelle’s plans are terrible.” He pointed a finger at her. “
Your
plans are suicidal. At best.”

She sat back, her arms crossed over her chest. “Do you want to hear it or not? You have to keep it a secret.”

“I would pluck out my own eyes with a fork before I would give away your secrets,” Simon said, then looked anxious. “Wait a second. Do you think that’s likely to be required?”

“I don’t know.” Clary covered her face with her hands.

“Just tell me.” He sounded resigned.

With a sigh she reached into her pocket and drew out a small velvet bag, which she upended on the table. Two gold rings fell out, landing with a soft clink.

Simon looked at them, puzzled. “You want to get married?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “Simon, these are
the rings
. The ones the Seelie Queen wanted.”

“I thought you said you never got them—” He broke off, raising his eyes to her face.

“I lied. I did take them. But after I saw Jace in the library, I didn’t want to give them to the Queen anymore. I had a feeling we might need them sometime. And I realized she was never going to give us any useful information. The rings seemed more valuable than another round with the Queen.”

Simon caught them up in his hand, hiding them from sight as Kaelie passed by. “Clary, you can’t just take things the Seelie Queen wants and keep them for yourself. She’s a very dangerous enemy to have.”

She looked at him pleadingly. “Can we at least see if they work?”

He sighed and handed her one of the rings; it felt light but was as soft as real gold. She worried for a moment that it wouldn’t fit, but as soon as she slipped it onto her right index finger, it seemed to mold to the shape of her finger, until it sat perfectly in the space below her knuckle. She saw Simon glancing down at his right hand, and realized the same thing had happened to him.

“Now we talk, I guess,” he said. “Say something to me. You know, mentally.”

Clary turned to Simon, feeling absurdly as if she were being asked to perform in a play whose lines she hadn’t memorized.
Simon?

Simon blinked. “I think—Could you do that again?”

This time Clary concentrated, trying to focus her mind on Simon—the Simon-ness of him, the shape of the way he thought, the feeling of hearing his voice, the sense of him close. His whispers, his secrets, the way he made her laugh.
So,
she thought conversationally,
now that I’m in your mind, want to see some naked mental pictures of Jace?

Simon jumped. “I
heard
that! And, no.”

Excitement fizzed in Clary’s veins; it was
working
. “Think something back to me.”

It took less than a second. She heard Simon, the way she heard Brother Zachariah, a voice without sound inside her mind.
You’ve seen him
naked?

Well, not entirely. But I—

“Enough,” he said out loud, and though his voice was caught between amusement and anxiety, his eyes sparked. “They work. Holy crap. They really work.”

She leaned forward. “So can I tell you my idea?”

He touched the ring on his finger, feeling its delicate tracery, the leaf-veins carved under his fingertips.
Sure.

She began to explain, but she hadn’t yet reached the end of her description when Simon interrupted, out loud this time. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Simon,” she said. “It’s a perfectly fine plan.”

“The plan where you follow Jace and Sebastian off to some unknown dimensional pocket and we use these rings to communicate so those of us over here in the
regular
dimension of Earth can track you down? That plan?”

“Yes.”

“No,” he said. “No, it isn’t.”

Clary sat back. “You don’t just get to say no.”

“This plan involves me! I get to say no!
No.
”

“Simon—”

Simon patted the seat beside him as if someone were sitting there. “Let me introduce you to my good friend No.”

“Maybe we can compromise,” she suggested, taking a bite of pie.

“No.”

“SIMON.”

“‘No’ is a magical word,” he told her. “Here’s how it goes. You say, ‘Simon, I have an insane, suicidal plan. Would you like to help me carry it out?’ And I say, ‘
Why, no.
’”

“I’ll do it anyway,” she said.

He stared at her across the table. “What?”

“I’ll do it whether you help me or not,” she said. “If I can’t use the rings, I’ll still follow Jace to wherever he is and try to get word back to you guys by sneaking away, finding telephones, whatever. If it’s possible. I’m going to do it, Simon. I just have a better chance of surviving if you help me. And there’s no risk to you.”

“I
don’t care about risk to me
,” he hissed, leaning forward across the table. “I care about what happens to you! Dammit, I’m practically indestructible. Let
me
go. You stay behind.”

“Yes,” Clary said, “Jace won’t find that odd at all. You can just tell him you’ve always been secretly in love with him and you can’t stand being parted.”

“I could tell him I’ve given it thought and I completely agree with his and Sebastian’s philosophy and decided to throw in my lot with theirs.”

“You don’t even know what their philosophy is.”

“There is that. I might have better luck telling him I’m in love with him. Jace thinks everyone’s in love with him anyway.”

“But I,” said Clary, “actually
am
.”

Simon looked at her for a long time over the table, silently. “You’re serious,” he said finally. “You’d actually do this. Without me—without any safety net.”

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Jace.”

Simon leaned his head back against the plastic booth seat. The Mark of Cain glowed a gentle silver against his skin. “Don’t say that,” he said.

“Wouldn’t you do anything for the people you love?”

“I’d do almost anything for you,” Simon said quietly. “I’d die for you. You know that. But would I kill someone else, someone innocent? What about a
lot
of innocent lives? What about the whole world? Is it really love to tell someone that if it came down to picking between them and every other life on the planet, you’d pick them? Is that—I don’t know, is that a moral sort of love at all?”

“Love isn’t moral or immoral,” said Clary. “It just is.”

“I know,” Simon said. “But the actions we take in the name of love, those are moral or immoral. And normally it wouldn’t matter. Normally—whatever I think of Jace being annoying—he’d never ask you to do anything that went against your nature. Not for him, not for anyone. But he isn’t exactly
Jace
anymore, is he? And I just don’t know, Clary. I don’t know what he might ask you to do.”

Clary leaned her elbow on the table, suddenly very tired. “Maybe he isn’t Jace. But he’s the closest thing to Jace I’ve got. There’s no way back to Jace without him.” She raised her eyes to Simon’s. “Or are you telling me it’s hopeless?”

There was a long silence. Clary could see Simon’s innate honesty warring with his desire to protect his best friend. Finally he said, “I’d never say that. I’m still Jewish, you know, even if I am a vampire. In my heart I remember and believe, even the words I can’t say. G—” He choked and swallowed. “He made a covenant with us, just like the Shadowhunters believe
Raziel made a covenant with them. And we believe in his promises. Therefore you can never lose hope—
hatikva
—because if you keep hope alive, it will keep you alive.” He looked faintly embarrassed. “My rabbi used to say that.”

Clary slid her hand across the table and laid it atop Simon’s. He rarely talked about his religion with her or anyone, though she knew he believed. “Does that mean you agree?”

He groaned. “I think it means you crushed my spirit and beat me down.”

“Fantastic.”

“Of course you realize you’re leaving me in the position of being the one to tell everyone—your mother, Luke, Alec, Izzy, Magnus…”

“I guess I shouldn’t have said there would be no risk to you,” Clary said meekly.

“That’s right,” said Simon. “Just remember, when your mother’s gnawing my ankle like a furious mama bear separated from her cub, I did it for you.”

Jordan had only just fallen back asleep when the banging on the front door came again. He rolled over and groaned. The clock by the bed said 4:00 a.m. in blinking yellow numbers.

More banging. Jordan rolled reluctantly to his feet, dragged on his jeans, and staggered out into the hallway. Blearily he jerked the door open. “Look—”

The words died on his lips. Standing in the hallway was Maia. She was wearing jeans and a caramel-colored leather jacket, and her hair was pulled up behind her head with bronze chopsticks. A single loose curl fell against her temple. Jordan’s fingers itched to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.
Instead he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Nice shirt,” she said with a dry glance at his bare chest. There was a backpack slung over one of her shoulders. For a moment his heart jumped. Was she leaving town? Was she leaving town to get away from
him
? “Look, Jordan—”

“Who is it?” The voice behind Jordan was husky, as rumpled as the bed she’d probably just climbed out of. He saw Maia’s mouth drop open, and he looked back over his shoulder to see Isabelle, wearing only one of Simon’s T-shirts, standing behind him and rubbing at her eyes.

Maia’s mouth snapped shut. “It’s me,” she said in a not particularly friendly tone. “Are you… visiting Simon?”

“What? No, Simon’s not here.”
Shut up, Isabelle,
Jordan thought frantically. “He’s…” She gestured vaguely. “Out.”

Maia’s cheeks reddened. “It smells like a bar in here.”

“Jordan’s cheap tequila,” said Isabelle with a wave of her hand. “You know…”

“Is that his shirt, too?” Maia inquired.

Isabelle glanced down at herself, and then back up at Maia. Belatedly she seemed to realize what the other girl was thinking. “Oh. No. Maia—”

“So first Simon cheated on me with you, and now you and Jordan—”

“Simon,” Isabelle said, “also cheated on
me
with
you
. Anyway, nothing’s going on with me and Jordan. I came over to see Simon, but he wasn’t here so I decided to crash in his room. And I’m going back in there now.”

“No,” Maia said sharply. “Don’t. Forget about Simon and Jordan. What I have to say, it’s something you need to hear too.”

Isabelle froze, one hand on Simon’s door, her sleep-flushed face slowly paling. “Jace,” she said. “Is that why you’re here?”

Maia nodded.

Isabelle sagged against the door. “Is he—” Her voice cracked. She started again. “Have they found—”

“He came back,” said Maia. “For Clary.” She paused. “He had Sebastian with him. There was a fight, and Luke was injured. He’s dying.”

Isabelle made a dry little sound in her throat. “Jace? Jace hurt Luke?”