Queen of Air and Darkness
Page 155

Brother Shadrach raised his right hand. So did each of the other Brothers. There was a sound like something enormous tearing in half, and the gates blew open, slamming into the Cohort members as if they had been smacked by a gigantic hand. The air was full of the sound of their yells as they were knocked aside; the gates yawned open, and beyond them, Dru could see the Imperishable Fields, green under a gray sky and overrun with fighting.
“Nephilim!” Jia had drawn her dao; she lowered it to point directly ahead at the raging battle. “Nephilim, go forth!”
Roaring with the desire to fight, Shadowhunters began to pour out of the open gates of the city. Most of them stepped over the fallen Cohort as they rolled on the ground, groaning in pain. Only Cameron Ashdown, visible thanks to his red hair, paused to help his sister Paige to her feet.
Diego and the others began to move toward the gates. Dru saw Jaime reach over and tap his brother on the shoulder; Diego nodded, and Jaime peeled off from the group and ran toward Dru. She stood frozen in surprise on her bench as he flew through the crowd toward her. He was graceful as a thrown knife, his smile as bright as the edge of its flashing blade.
He reached her; with her standing on the bench, they were the same height. “We could not have done this without you,” he said. “You are the one who set us free.” He kissed her on the forehead, his lips light and quick. “On the battlefield, I will think of you.”
And he was gone, running toward his brother as Dru wished she were running toward hers.
She had dreamed that she might fight too, alongside the others. But she could not leave Tavvy. She sat down on the bench and pulled him into her lap, holding him as they watched Diego and Jaime, Rayan and Divya, even Cameron Ashdown, vanishing into the crowd surging through the gates onto the Fields.
31
A REDDER GLOW
“I can’t believe Magnus did this to us,” said Ty. He and Kit were sitting in the hollow below the oak tree, near the half-destroyed campsite. Kit was chilled from sitting on the ground for so long, but it wasn’t as if he could go anywhere. Before heading out to the battlefield with the others, Magnus had fastened both Ty and Kit to the roots of the oak tree with flickering chains of light.
“Sorry, guys,” he’d said, blue sparks dancing from his fingers. “But I promised Julian you’d stay safe, and the best way to make sure that happens is to make sure you stay right here.”
“If he hadn’t, you’d be following Julian and the others to the Imperishable Fields,” said Kit. “You can see his reasoning.” He kicked at the chain around his ankle. It was made of glimmer—there was no real substance to it, just shining loops of light, but it held him in place as tightly as if it had been made of adamas. When he touched the light itself, he got a faint shock, like the shock of static electricity.
“Stop fighting it,” said Ty. “We haven’t been able to break out yet; we’re not going to be able to now. We’ll have to find another solution.”
“Or we could just accept that we have to wait for them to get back,” said Kit, sinking back against the roots. He suddenly felt very tired—not physically, but deep down.
“I don’t accept that,” said Ty, poking at the glimmering chain around his ankle with a stick.
“Maybe you should learn to accept things that can’t be changed.”
Ty looked up, his gray eyes flashing in his thin face. “I know what you’re really talking about,” he said. “You are mad at me.”
“Yeah,” Kit said. “I’m mad at you.”
Ty threw the stick aside; Kit jumped. “You knew I was going to raise Livvy,” he said. “You knew it all along and you told me it was fine. You went along with it until the very last minute and then you told me not to do it. I thought you cared, but you lied to me. Just like everyone else.”
Kit gasped with the unfairness of it. I thought you cared? He’d told Ty how much he cared and Ty had treated it like nothing. The humiliation of the night before flooded back over him in a hot wave, sparking a bitter rage. “You only care about what’s best for you,” he said between his teeth. “You raised Livvy for you, not for her or anyone else. You knew the damage it might do. You only thought of yourself. I wish— I wish I’d never known you—”
Ty’s eyes filled with sudden tears. Shocked, Kit fell silent. Ty was Ty; he didn’t weep easily, but he was wiping tears from his face with shaking hands. Kit’s rage vanished; he wanted to crawl across the hollow toward Ty, who was shaking his head, saying something under his breath in a low voice—
“I’m here.”
Ty’s expression changed completely. There were still tears on his cheeks, but his lips had parted in amazement. In wonder.
She knelt at the edge of the hollow, half-transparent. The wind didn’t lift the edges of her brown hair, nor did she shiver in her long white dress. The dress he had wondered about the night before, thinking she would never have chosen it.
Only now did Kit realize that she hadn’t: The dress was what she had been burned in, a Shadowhunter funeral dress.
“Livvy,” Ty said. He tried to stand, but the cord of light around his ankle jerked him back down. He tumbled onto some moss.
The ghost of Livvy Blackthorn smiled. She came down into the hollow—not climbing or falling, but drifting, like a feather on the wind.
“What are you doing?” asked Ty as she knelt down beside him.
“I shouldn’t have been so angry with you last night,” said Livvy. “You meant well.”
“You came to apologize?” said Kit.
Livvy turned to look at him. The gold locket gleamed at her throat. It was strange to see two of it—the one Ty wore, real and shining, and the one that flickered on Livvy’s neck. A whisper of her memories? Death’s way of projecting an image of what people expected Livvy to look like?
“I forgot,” Livvy said. “You can see ghosts, Herondale.”
She sounded like Livvy. But not like Livvy. There was a cool distance in her tone, and real Livvy would have called him Kit.
Still, she bent to touch Ty’s ankle gently, and at her touch, Magnus’s chain of light flickered and vanished. Ty struggled to his knees. “Why did you do that? Because you’re sorry?”
“No,” said Livvy. “Ghosts don’t really do things because they’re sorry.” She touched Ty’s cheek, or at least she tried—her fingers passed through the outline of his body. Ty shivered but kept his gaze locked on her. “Julian and Mark and Helen and Emma are at the Imperishable Fields,” said Livvy, her eyes unfocused, as if she were seeing what was happening elsewhere. “You must go to help them. You must fight in the battle. They need you on their side.”
As if it were an afterthought, she turned and touched Kit’s chain. It vanished—and so did Livvy. She bent her head and was gone, not even a wisp of mist to show she had ever been there.
Devastation passed across Ty’s face and Kit felt a stab of pity. What would it be like for him, even if Livvy came and went as a ghost? She would never stay long, and there was no way to be sure that if she did go, she would return. It would be like losing her again and again and again.
Ty got to his feet. Kit knew he would say nothing about Livvy. “You don’t have to come to the battle,” Ty said. “You can stay here.”
He began to scramble out of the hollow. Wordlessly, Kit followed.
* * *
Cristina knew her Shadowhunter history better than most. As she raced across the green grass, she thought of the past: that here on the Imperishable Fields was where Jonathan Shadowhunter had battled a legion of demons. As she ran, slashing out with her sword, she followed in his footsteps.
Mark was at her side. He was armed with a bow, lighter and smaller than Alec’s, but capable of shooting with speed and precision. The Unseelie army surged toward them as they pushed their way toward Kieran, and Mark’s hand went to his bow over and over, felling trolls and ogres with elf-bolts to the throat and chest. Cristina swung at the smaller, faster redcaps, hacking and slashing, noting with a distant horror that their own blood vanished against their already bloodstained uniforms.