City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments, #6)(68)

Simon felt hollow inside. He’d spent the night sleeping fitfully, waking up out of nightmares in which Jordan appeared and stood looking at him silently, hazel eyes asking Simon to help him, save him, while the ink on his arms ran like blood.

“Poor Maia,” she said. “I wish she were here; I wish we could talk to her. She’s had such a hard time, and now this—”

“I know,” Simon said, almost choking. Thinking about Jordan was bad enough. If he thought about Maia, too, he’d fall apart.

Clary responded to the abruptness in his tone by reaching out for his hand. “Simon,” she said. “Are you all right?”

He let her take his hand, loosely interlacing their fingers. He saw her glance down at the gold faerie ring he always wore.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“No, of course not. How could you be? He was your—” Friend? Roommate? Bodyguard?

“Responsibility,” Simon said.

She looked taken aback. “No—Simon, you were his. He was your guard.”

“Come on, Clary,” Simon said. “What do you think he was doing at the Praetor Lupus headquarters? He never went there. If he was there, it was because of me, because he was looking for me. If I hadn’t gone and gotten myself kidnapped—”

“Gotten yourself kidnapped?” Clary snapped. “What, you volunteered to have Maureen kidnap you?”

“Maureen didn’t kidnap me,” he said in a low voice.

She looked at him, puzzled. “I thought she kept you in a cage at the Dumort. I thought you said—”

“She did,” Simon said. “But the only reason I was outside where she could get at me was because I was attacked by one of the Endarkened. I didn’t want to tell Luke and your mother,” he added. “I thought they’d freak out.”

“Because if Sebastian sent a Dark Shadowhunter after you, it was because of me,” said Clary tightly. “Did he want to kidnap you or kill you?”

“I didn’t really get a chance to ask him.” Simon shoved his hands into his pockets. “Jordan told me to run, so I ran—right into some of Maureen’s clan. She was having the apartment watched, evidently. I suppose that’s what I get for running off and leaving him. If I hadn’t, if I hadn’t been taken, he never would have gone out to the Praetor, and he never would have been killed.”

“Stop it.” Simon looked over in surprise. Clary sounded genuinely angry. “Stop blaming yourself. Jordan didn’t get himself assigned to you at random. He wanted the job so he could be near Maia. He knew the risks in guarding you. He took them on voluntarily. It was his choice. He was looking for redemption. Because of what happened between him and Maia. Because of what he did. That was what the Praetor was, for him. It saved him. Guarding you, people like you, saved him. He’d turned into a monster. He’d hurt Maia. He’d turned her into a monster too. What he did wasn’t forgivable. If he hadn’t had the Praetor, if he hadn’t had you to take care of, it would have eaten him up until he killed himself.”

“Clary—” Simon was shocked at the darkness in her words.

She shivered, as if she were shaking off the touch of spiderwebs. They had turned onto a long street by a canal, lined with grand old houses. It reminded Simon of pictures of rich neighborhoods in Amsterdam. “That’s the Lightwoods’ house, there. The high Council members have houses on this street. The Consul, the Inquisitor, the Downworlder representatives. We just have to figure out which one is Raphael’s—”

“There,” Simon said, and indicated a narrow canal house with a black door. A star had been painted on the door in silver. “A star for the Night’s Children. Because we don’t see the light of the sun.” He smiled at her, or tried to. Hunger was burning up his veins; they felt like hot wires under his skin.

He turned away and mounted the steps. The door knocker was in the shape of a rune, and heavy. The sound it made as it dropped reverberated inside the house.

Simon heard Clary come up the stairs behind him just as the door opened. Raphael stood inside, carefully out of the light that spilled in through the open door. In the shadows Simon could make out only the general shape of him: his curly hair, the white flash of his teeth when he greeted them. “Daylighter. Valentine’s daughter.”

Clary made an exasperated noise. “Don’t you ever call anyone by their name?”

“Only my friends,” said Raphael.

“You have friends?” Simon said.

Raphael glared. “I assume you are here for blood?”

“Yes,” Clary said. Simon said nothing. At the sound of the word “blood” he’d started to feel slightly faint. He could feel his stomach contracting. He was beginning to starve.

Raphael cast a glance at Simon. “You look hungry. Perhaps you should have taken my suggestion in the square last night.”

Clary’s eyebrows went up, but Simon just scowled. “If you want me to talk to the Inquisitor for you, you’re going to have to give me blood. Otherwise I’ll pass out on his feet, or eat him.”

“I suspect that would go over poorly with his daughter. Though she already seemed none too pleased with you last night.” Raphael disappeared back into the shadows of the house. Clary glanced at Simon.