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

“This one is not all Nephilim,” he said. “Part faerie, am I correct? Why was I not informed?”

There was a murmur. The brown-haired woman said, “Does it mean the Cup will not work on him, Lord Sebastian?”

“It means I don’t want him,” said Sebastian.

“We could take him to the valley of salt,” said the brown-haired woman. “Or to the high places of Edom, and sacrifice him there for the pleasure of Asmodeus and Lilith.”

“No,” Sebastian said slowly. “No, it would not be wise, I think, to do that to one with the blood of the Fair Folk.”

Mark spat at him.

Sebastian looked startled. He turned to Julian’s father. “Come and restrain him,” he said. “Wound him if you desire. I shall have only so much patience with your half-breed son.”

Mr. Blackthorn stepped forward, holding a broadsword. The blade was already stained with blood. Mark’s eyes widened with terror. The sword rose up—

The throwing knife left Emma’s hand. It flew through the air, and buried itself in Sebastian Morgenstern’s chest.

Sebastian staggered back, and Mr. Blackthorn’s sword hand fell to his side. The others were crying out; Mark leaped to his feet as Sebastian looked down at the blade in his chest, its handle protruding from his heart. He frowned.

“Ouch,” he said, and pulled the knife free. The blade was slick with blood, but Sebastian himself looked unbothered by the injury. He cast the weapon aside, staring upward. Emma felt those dark, empty eyes on her, like the touch of cold fingers. She felt him take the measure of her, sum her up and know her, and dismiss her.

“It’s a shame you won’t live,” he said to her. “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.” He turned to the others. “Kill the girl,” he demanded, flicking at his now bloody jacket with distaste.

Emma saw Mark lunge for the stairs, trying to get to her first, but the dark figure at Sebastian’s side had already seized Mark and was drawing him backward with black-gloved hands; those arms went around Mark, held him, almost as if protecting him. Mark was struggling, and then he was lost to Emma’s view as the Endarkened surged up the steps.

Emma turned and ran. She had learned to run on the beaches of California, where the sand shifted under her feet with every step, so on solid ground she was as fast as the wind. She hurtled down the hall, her hair flying out behind her, leaped and jumped down a short set of steps, spun to the right, and burst into the office. She slammed the door behind her and threw the bolt before turning to stare.

The office was a sizeable room, the walls lined with reference books. There was another library on the top floor as well, but this was where Mr. Blackthorn had run the Institute. There was his mahogany desk, and on it two telephones: one white and one black. The receiver was off the hook on the black phone, and Julian was holding the handset, shouting down the line: “You have to keep the Portal open! We’re not all safe yet! Please—”

The door behind Emma boomed and echoed as the Endarkened threw themselves against it; Julian looked up with alarm, and the receiver fell from his fingers as he saw Emma. She stared back at him, and past him, to where the whole eastern wall was glowing. In the center was a Portal, a rectangular-shaped hole in the wall through which Emma could see whirling silver shapes, a chaos of clouds and wind.

She staggered toward Julian, and he caught her by the shoulders. His fingers gripped her skin tightly, as if he couldn’t believe she was there, or real. “Emma,” he breathed, and then his voice picked up speed. “Em, where’s Mark? Where’s my father?”

She shook her head. “They can’t—I couldn’t—” She swallowed. “It’s Sebastian Morgenstern,” she said, and winced as the door shuddered again under another assault. “We have to go back for them—” she said, turning, but Julian’s hand was already around her wrist.

“The Portal!” he shouted over the sound of the wind and the battering at the door. “It goes to Idris! The Clave opened it! Emma—it’s going to stay open for only another few seconds!”

“But Mark!” she said, though she had no idea what they could do, how they could fight their way past the Endarkened crowding the hallway, how they could defeat Sebastian Morgenstern, who was more powerful than any ordinary Shadowhunter. “We have to—”

“Emma!” Julian shouted, and then the door burst open and the Endarkened poured into the room. She heard the brown-haired woman shrieking after her, something about how the Nephilim would burn, they would all burn in the fires of Edom, they would burn and die and be destroyed—

Julian bolted toward the Portal, dragging Emma by one hand; after one terrified look behind her, she let him pull her along. She ducked as an arrow sailed past them and smashed through a window on her right. Julian seized her frantically, wrapping his arms around her; she felt his fingers knot into the back of her shirt as they fell forward into the Portal and were swallowed up by the tempest.





Part One


Bring Forth a Fire





Therefore will I bring forth a fire from the midst of thee, it shall devour thee, and I will bring thee to ashes upon the earth in the sight of all them that behold thee. All they that know thee among the people shall be astonished at thee: thou shalt be a terror, and never shalt thou be any more.