Queen of Air and Darkness
Page 173

Dru had to stifle a gasp. Why would Magnus say something so flatly unkind?
“I don’t understand,” Ty said, his left hand fluttering at his side. He caught at his wrist with his right hand as if he could stop it.
Julian had always called Ty’s hands his butterflies and told him they were beautiful, graceful, and useful—why not let them fly? But Dru worried. She thought they fluttered like hearts, a sign that Ty was uneasy.
Magnus’s expression was grave. “Come with me.”
Magnus gave his son to Maryse to carry into the sitting room and headed upstairs, Ty at his heels. Dru didn’t hesitate. If Magnus was angry with Ty she was going to find out why, and defend Ty if necessary. Even if Magnus turned her into a toad. She followed.
There was an empty bedroom at the top of the stairs. Magnus and Ty went into it, Magnus leaning his long body against the bare wall. Ty sat down on the edge of the bed while Dru stationed herself by the crack in the mostly open door.
“I don’t understand,” Ty said again. Dru knew he’d probably been working on the problem in his mind all the way up the steps: What did Magnus mean? Why did Kit not want to say good-bye to him?
“Ty,” said Magnus. “I know what you did. Ragnor told me. I wish he’d told me earlier, but then I was dying, so I understand why he didn’t. Also, he thought he’d headed you off. But he didn’t, did he? You got an energy source from the Market and you did the spell anyway.”
The spell? The one to raise Livvy’s ghost?
Ty stared. “How do you know?”
“I have sources in the Markets,” said Magnus. “I’m also a warlock, and the son of a Greater Demon. I can sense the dark magic on you, Ty. It’s like a cloud around you I can see.” He sat down on the window ledge. “I know you tried to raise your sister from the dead.”
He did what? Realization exploded in Dru’s mind, along with shock: You didn’t just try to raise the dead. Look what had happened to Malcolm. Trying to communicate with a spirit was one thing, necromancy quite another.
Ty didn’t protest, though. He sat on the bed, his fingers knotting and unknotting.
“You are so, so lucky your spell didn’t work,” Magnus said. “What you did was bad, but what you could have done would have been so much worse.”
How could you, Ty? How could you, Kit?
“Clary brought Jace back from the dead,” Ty said.
“Clary asked Raziel to bring Jace back from the dead. Think about it—Raziel himself. You are messing about in magic reserved for gods, Ty. There are reasons necromancy is something people hate. If you bring back a life, you must pay with something of equal consequence. What if it had been another life? Would you have wanted to kill someone to keep Livvy with you?”
Ty lifted his head. “What if it was Horace? What if it was someone bad? We kill people in battle. I don’t see the difference.”
Magnus looked at Ty for a long time; Dru was afraid he might say something harsh to him, but the lines of Magnus’s face had softened. “Tiberius,” he said at last. “When your sister died, she didn’t deserve it. Life and death aren’t doled out by a judge who decides what is fair, and if it were, would you want to be that judge? Every life at your fingertips, and also every death?”
Ty squeezed his eyes shut. “No,” he whispered. “I just want my sister back. I miss her all the time. It feels like there’s a hole in me that will never be filled up.”
Oh, Dru thought. How odd that it would be Ty who would most accurately describe what it felt like to lose Livvy. She pressed her hand to her side. A hole where my sister should be.
“I know,” Magnus said gently. “And I know that you’ve spent a lot of your life knowing you’re different and that’s true. You are. So am I.”
Ty looked up at him.
“So you think this feeling you have, of missing half of yourself, must be fixed. That it can’t be what everyone else is feeling when they lose someone. But it is. Grief can be so bad you can’t breathe, but that’s what it means to be human. We lose, we suffer, but we have to keep breathing.”
“Are you going to tell everyone?” Ty said in a near whisper.
“No,” Magnus said. “Provided you promise never to do anything like that again.”
Ty looked nauseated. “I never would.”
“I believe it. But, Ty, there’s something else I’d like you to do. I can’t order you to do it. I can only suggest it.”
Ty had picked up a pillow; he was running his hand over the rough, textured side of it, over and over, his palm reading messages in the fabric.
“I know you always wanted to go to the Scholomance,” said Magnus.
Ty started to protest. Magnus held up a hand.
“Just let me finish, and then you can say anything you want to,” Magnus said. “At the L.A. Institute, Helen and Aline can keep you safe and love you, and I know you might not want to leave your family. But what you need is mysteries to solve to keep your mind busy and your soul filled. I’ve known people like you before—they don’t rest until their minds are flying free and solving problems. I knew Conan Doyle back in the day. He loved to travel. Spent his third year of medical school on a whaling boat.”
Ty stared.
Magnus seemed to realize he’d veered off course. “All I’m saying is that you have a curious mind,” he said. “You want to solve mysteries, to be a detective of life—that’s why you always wanted to go to the Scholomance. But you didn’t think you could. Because your twin wanted to be parabatai with you, and you couldn’t do both.”
“I would have given up the Scholomance for her,” Ty said. “Besides, everyone I met who went there—Zara and the others—was awful.”
“The Scholomance is going to be quite different now,” said Magnus. “The Cohort poisoned it, but they’ll be gone. I think it would be a wonderful place for you.” His voice gentled. “Grief is hard. Change can be all that helps.”
“Thanks,” Ty said. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course.” Magnus looked weary and a little regretful. As if he wished things could have been different; as if he wished there were something else to say than the things he’d said. He turned toward the door—Dru shrank back—and paused.
“You understand that from now on you’re tied to the ghost of your sister,” Magnus said.
Tied to the ghost of your sister?
Livvy’s ghost?
“I do understand,” Ty said.
Magnus stared at the door of the bedroom as if he were seeing through into the past. “You think you do,” he said. “But you don’t really see it. I know she set you free in the forest. Right now this feels better than nothing, better than being without her. You don’t yet understand the price. And I hope you never have to pay it.”
He touched Ty’s shoulder lightly, without looking at him, and left. Dru ducked into the next bedroom until Magnus’s footsteps had disappeared down the stairs.
Then she took a deep breath and went in to talk to Ty.
He hadn’t moved from the end of the bed in the empty room. He stared into the gathering shadows, his face pale as he looked up at her. “Dru?” he said haltingly.
“You should have told me,” Dru said.
He furrowed his arched eyebrows. “You were listening?”
She nodded.
“I know,” he said. “I didn’t want you to stop me. And I’m not good at lying. It’s easier for me to just not say.”
“Kit lied to me,” she said. She was furious at Kit, though she tried not to show it. Maybe it was better that he wasn’t coming back with them. Even if he had shown her how to pick locks. “Livvy’s ghost—is she really around?”
“I saw her today. She was in the Basilias when Emma and Julian woke up. She was sitting on one of the bureaus. I never know when she’s going to be there or not be there. Magnus said she’s tied to me, so . . .”
“Maybe you can teach me to see her.” Dru knelt down and put her arms around Ty. She could feel the slight vibrations going through his body; he was shaking. “Maybe we can see her together.”