Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices #1)(52)

Emma exchanged a worried look with Julian, but short of diving across the table and whacking Magnus over the head—inadvisable for so many reasons—she couldn’t think of anything to do.

“Something you’re not supposed to tell me, I take it.” Magnus templed his hands under his chin. “About the killings?” At their surprised looks, he added, “I have friends at the Scholomance. Catarina Loss, for one. Anything about rogue magic or the Fair Folk interests me. Is Malcolm helping out?”

Julian shook his head, a minute gesture.

“Some of the bodies were fey,” said Emma. “We’re not meant to get involved. The Cold Peace—”

“The Cold Peace is despicable,” Magnus said, and the humor had gone out of his voice. “Punishing a whole species for the actions of a few. Denying them rights. Exiling your sister,” he added, looking at Julian. “I’ve spoken to her. She helped make the map I spoke of; any magic that global involves the wards. How often do you talk to her?”

“Every week,” said Jules.

“She said you always told her that everything was fine,” said Magnus. “I think she was worried you weren’t telling her the truth.”

Julian said nothing. It was true that he talked to Helen every week; they all did, passing the phone or computer back and forth. And it was also true that Julian never told her anything except that everything was fine, they were all fine, there was no need for her to worry.

“I remember her wedding,” Magnus said, and there was gentleness in his eyes. “How young you both were. Though it wasn’t the last wedding I saw you at, was it?”

Emma and Julian exchanged puzzled glances. “I’m pretty sure it was,” said Julian. “What other wedding would it have been?”

“Hm,” said Magnus. “Perhaps my memory is going in my old age.” He didn’t sound as if he thought that was likely, though. He leaned back instead, sliding his long legs under the coffee table. “As for Helen, I’m sure it’s just an older sibling’s anxiety. Certainly Alec worries about Isabelle, whether it’s warranted or not.”

“What do you think about ley lines?” Emma asked abruptly.

Magnus’s eyebrows flew up. “What about them? Spells done at ley lines are amplified.”

“Does it matter what kind of magic? Dark magic, warlock magic, faerie magic?”

Magnus frowned. “It depends. But it’s unusual to use a ley line to amplify dark magic. Usually they’re used to move power. Like a delivery system for magic—”

“Well, how about that.” Malcolm, returning to the living room, darted an amused look at Emma. “Diana corroborates your story. Color me astonished.” His gaze moved to Magnus. “What’s going on?”

A light flashed in his eyes, whether amusement or something else, Emma couldn’t quite tell. Sometimes Malcolm seemed completely childlike, going on about trains and shrimp crackers and eagle movies. At other times he seemed as sharp and focused as anyone she knew.

Magnus stretched his arms along the back of the sofa. “We were talking about ley lines. I was saying they amplify magic, but only certain kinds of magic. Magic that has to do with energy transferrals. Didn’t you and Catarina Loss run into some kind of trouble with ley lines back when you lived in Cornwall, Malcolm?”

A vague expression passed over Malcolm’s face. “I can’t remember precisely. Magnus, stop bothering Emma and Julian,” he said, and there was a tinge of something like annoyance in his voice. Professional jealousy, Emma guessed. “This is my domain. You’ve got your own hopeless humans in New York.”

“One of those hopeless humans is the father of my child,” Magnus pointed out.

Magnus had not ever been pregnant, though that would have been interesting, Emma thought. He and Alec Lightwood had an adopted warlock child, named Max, who was a scintillating shade of navy blue.

“And,” Magnus added, “the rest of them have all saved the world, at least once.”

Malcolm gestured toward Julian and Emma. “I have high hopes for these.”

Magnus’s face broke into a grin. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said. “Anyway, I should go. Long trip ahead of me and Alec doesn’t like me to be late.”

There was a flurry of good-byes. Magnus clapped Malcolm on the arm and paused to hug Julian, and then Emma. His shoulder bumped her forehead as he bent his head, and she heard his voice in her ear, whispering. She looked at him in surprise, but he only let her go and marched toward the door, whistling. Halfway to the door there was the familiar shimmer and burned-sugar smell of Portal magic, and Magnus disappeared.

“Did you tell him about the investigation?” Malcolm looked anxious. “He mentioned ley lines.”

“I asked him about them,” Emma admitted. “But I didn’t say why I wanted to know. And I didn’t mention anything about translating the markings.”

Malcolm circled around to look at the paper again. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who untangled the first line? Fire to water. It would help to know what it means.”

“We can’t,” Julian said. “But I don’t think the translator knew what it meant either. You can use it, though, right? To get the rest of the spell or message or whatever it is?”