City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments, #6)(25)

“Mark,” said Julian. “I saw them start to move into the entryway, and Mark turned around and shouted for us to run upstairs and get out. I fell on the top step, and when I looked down, they were swarming all over him—” Julian made a gagging sound. “And my father, he was standing up, and his eyes were black too, and he started moving toward Mark like the rest of them, like he didn’t even know him—”

Julian’s voice cracked, just as the blonde girl wrenched herself free of Helen’s grasp and hurtled forward, throwing herself between Julian and the Consul.

“Emma!” Helen said, stepping forward, but Jia held out a hand to keep her back. Emma was white-faced and gasping. Clary thought she had never seen so much anger contained in such a small form.

“Leave him alone!” Emma shouted, throwing her arms out wide, as if she could shield Julian behind her, though she was a head shorter. “You’re torturing him! Leave him alone!”

“It’s okay, Emma,” Julian said, though the color was starting to come back into his face now that they were no longer questioning him. “They have to do it.”

She turned on him. “No, they don’t. I was there too. I saw what happened. Do it to me.” She held out her hands, as if begging for the Sword to be put into them. “I’m the one who stabbed Sebastian in the heart. I’m the one who saw him not die. You should be asking me!”

“No,” Julian began, and then Jia said, still gently:

“Emma, we will question you, next. The Sword is painful, but not harmful—”

“Stop it,” Emma said. “Just stop it.” And she walked over to Julian, who was holding the Sword tightly. It was clear he had no intention of trying to hand it over. He was shaking his head at Emma, even as she laid her hands over his, so that both of them were holding the Sword together.

“I stabbed Sebastian,” Emma said, in a voice that rang out through the room. “And he pulled the dagger out and laughed. He said, ‘It’s a shame you won’t live. Live to tell the Clave that Lilith has strengthened me beyond all measure. Perhaps Glorious could end my life. A pity for the Nephilim that they have no more favors they can ask of Heaven, and none of the puny instruments of war they forge in their Adamant Citadel can harm me now.’?”

Clary shuddered. She heard Sebastian through Emma’s words, and could almost see him, standing in front of her. Chatter had burst out among the Clave, drowning what Jace said to her next.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss the heart?” Robert demanded, his dark eyebrows drawn together.

It was Julian who answered. “Emma doesn’t miss,” he said, sounding as offended as if they had just insulted him.

“I know where the heart is,” Emma said, stepping back from Julian and casting a look of anger—more than anger, hurt—at the Consul and the Inquisitor. “But I don’t think you do.”

Her voice rose, and she spun and ran off the dais, practically elbowing her way past Robert. She disappeared through the door from which she had come, and Clary heard her own breath rush out through her teeth—wasn’t anyone going to go after her? Julian clearly wanted to, but, trapped between the Consul and Inquisitor, carrying the weight of the Mortal Sword, he couldn’t move. Helen was looking after her with an expression of raw pain, her arms cradling the youngest boy, Tavvy.

And then Clary was on her feet. Her mother reached for her, but she was already running down the sloping aisle between the rows of seats. The aisle turned into wooden steps; Clary clattered up them, past the Consul and Inquisitor, past Helen, and through the side door after Emma.

She nearly knocked over Aline, who was hovering near the open door, watching what was going on in the Council room and scowling. The scowl disappeared when she saw Clary, and was replaced by a look of surprise. “What are you doing?”

“The little girl,” Clary said breathlessly. “Emma. She ran back here.”

“I know. I tried to stop her, but she pulled away from me. She’s just . . .” Aline sighed and glanced at the Council room, where Jia had begun to question Julian again. “It’s been so hard on them, Helen and the others. You know their mother died, only a few years ago. All they’ve got now is an uncle in London.”

“Does that mean they’re going to move the kids to London? You know, when this is all over,” Clary said.

Aline shook her head. “Their uncle’s been offered the leadership of the Los Angeles Institute. I think the hope is that he’ll take over the job and raise the kids. I don’t think he’s agreed yet, though. He’s probably in shock. I mean, he lost his nephew, his brother—Andrew Blackthorn isn’t dead, but he might as well be. In a way, it’s worse.” Her voice was bitter.

“I know,” Clary said. “I know exactly what that’s like.”

Aline looked at her more closely. “I suppose you do know,” she said. “It’s just—Helen. I wish I could do more for her. She’s eating herself up with guilt because she was here with me and not in Los Angeles when the Institute was attacked. And she’s trying so hard, but she can’t be a mom to all those kids, and their uncle hasn’t gotten here yet, and then there’s Emma, Angel help her. She doesn’t even have a scrap of family left—”

“I’d like to talk to her. To Emma.”