Queen of Air and Darkness
Page 98

Emma slid off the cycle, feeling as if ice had invaded her veins. Neither she nor Julian looked at each other; somehow both of them were crossing the street, striding along next to each other as if nothing unusual were happening.
Sebastian knows who we really are, Emma thought. He knows, and he’s going to kill us.
She kept walking. They reached the pavement, and she heard the roar of a motorcycle starting up; she turned to see Diana speeding away from the checkpoint. She knew why Diana had needed to go, and didn’t blame her, but the sight still sent a cold stab through her chest: They were alone.
The nightclub was guarded by Iblis demons, who gave them a casual once-over and let them pass through the doors into a narrow corridor lined with mirrors. Emma could see her own reflection: She looked starkly pale, her mouth a tight line. That was bad. She had to relax. Julian, beside her, looked calm and collected, his hair ruffled from the motorcycle but otherwise nothing out of place.
He took her hand as the corridor opened up into a massive room. Warmth seemed to flow from him, through Emma’s hand, into her veins; she took a deep, harsh breath as a wave of cold air smacked into them.
The nightclub was silvery-white and black, a dark fairyland of ice. A long bar carved from a block of ice ran along one wall. Cascades of frozen water, polar blue and arctic green, spilled from the ceiling, turning the dance floor into a labyrinth of glimmering sheets.
Julian’s hand tightened on Emma’s. She glanced down; the floor underneath them was solid ice, and beneath the ice she could see the shadows of trapped bodies—here the shape of a hand, there a screaming, frozen face. Her chest tightened. We are walking on the bodies of the dead, she thought.
Julian glanced sideways at her, shook his head slightly as if to say, We can’t think about that right now.
Compartmentalizing, she thought as they headed toward a roped-off area at the back of the club. That was how Julian got through things. Pushing down thoughts, walling them off, living in the moment of the act that had become his reality.
She did her best to shove the thoughts of the dead away as they ducked under the ropes and found themselves in an area full of couches and chairs upholstered in ice-blue velvet. Sprawled in the largest armchair was Sebastian.
Up close, he was clearly older than the boy Emma remembered from her world. He was broader, his jaw more square, his eyes tar black. He wore a crisp black designer suit with a pattern of roses on the lapels, a thick fur coat draped over it. His ice-white hair mixed with the pale gold fur; if Emma hadn’t known who he was and hated him, she would have thought he was beautiful, a wintry prince.
Standing beside him, his fingers resting lightly on the back of Sebastian’s chair, was Jace. He too wore a black suit, and when he turned slightly, Emma saw the strap of a holster beneath it. There were leather gauntlets on his wrists, under the sharp cuffs of his jacket. She would have bet he was carrying several knives.
Is he Sebastian’s bodyguard? she wondered. Does it amuse Sebastian to keep one of the Clave’s heroes as a sort of pet, bound to his side?
And then there was Ash. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, sprawled in a chair some distance away with an electronic device in his hands, he seemed to be playing a video game. The light from the game came and went, illuminating his sharp-featured face, the points of his ears.
Sebastian’s cold gaze swept over Emma and Julian. Emma felt her whole body tense. She knew their runes were covered by fabric and concealer, but she still felt as if Sebastian could see right through her. As if he’d know immediately they weren’t Endarkened.
“If it isn’t the two lovebirds,” he drawled. He glanced at Emma. “I haven’t really seen your face before. Your friend here’s been too busy sucking it.”
Julian replied in a flat monotone. “Sorry to have annoyed you, sir.”
“It doesn’t annoy me,” Sebastian said. “Just an observation.” He settled back in his chair. “I prefer redheads myself.”
A flicker of something went over Jace’s face. It was gone too quickly for Emma to guess at its meaning. Ash looked up, though, and Emma tensed. If Ash recognized them . . .
He glanced back down at his game, his expression evincing no interest.
Emma was finding it hard not to shiver. The cold was intense, and Sebastian’s gaze colder still. He templed his fingers under his chin. “Rumors have been swirling,” he said, “that a certain Livia Blackthorn is raising a pathetic little rebellion downtown.”
Emma’s stomach lurched.
“She’s nothing to us,” Julian said quickly. He sounded like he meant it too.
“Of course not,” said Sebastian. “But you were once her brother and her friend. Humans are regrettably sentimental. She might be tricked into trusting you.”
“Livvy would never trust a pair of Endarkened,” Emma said, and froze. It was the wrong thing to say.
Jace’s golden eyes narrowed with suspicion. He began to speak, but Sebastian cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Not now, Jace.”
Jace’s expression went blank. He turned away from Sebastian and went to Ash, leaning over the back of his chair to point out something on his game screen. Ash nodded.
It would almost have looked like a sweet brotherly moment if it hadn’t been so screwed up and awful. If the chandelier overhead hadn’t been made of frozen human arms, each one gripping a torch that spat demonic light. If Emma could forget the faces beneath the floor.
“What Emma means is that Livvy’s always been cunning,” said Julian. “In a low sort of way.”
“Interesting,” said Sebastian. “I tend to approve of low cunning, though not when directed at me, of course.”
“We know her very well,” said Julian. “I’m sure we can suss out her little rebellion’s location without much trouble.”
Sebastian smirked. “I like your confidence,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe what I—” He broke off with a frown. “Is that damn dog barking again?”
It was a dog barking. A few seconds later, a black-and-white terrier bounded into the room on the end of a long leash. At the other end of the leash was a woman with long dark hair.
It was Annabel Blackthorn.
She wore a red dress without sleeves, though she must have been freezing in the cold air. Her skin was dead white.
Seeing Emma and Julian, she went even whiter. Her grip tightened on the dog’s leash.
Adrenaline spilled through Emma’s veins. Annabel was going to spill, she was going to turn them in. She had no reason not to. And then Sebastian would kill them. I swear, Emma thought, I will find a way to make him bleed before I die.
I will find a way to make them both bleed.
“I’m sorry,” Annabel said petulantly. “He wanted to see Ash. Didn’t you, Malcolm?”
Even Julian’s expression flickered at that. Emma watched in horror as Annabel bent down to rub the dog’s ears. It looked up at her with wide lavender eyes and barked again.
Malcolm Fade, High Warlock of Los Angeles, was now a demon terrier.
“Get your nasty familiar out of here,” Sebastian snapped. “I’m doing business. If Ash needs something, he’ll call on you, Annabel. He’s practically a grown man. He no longer requires a nursemaid.”
“Everyone needs a mother,” Annabel said. “Don’t you, Ash?”
Ash said nothing. He was immersed in his game. With an irritated sigh, Annabel stalked out of the room, Malcolm trotting behind her.
“As I was saying.” Sebastian’s face was tight with annoyance. “Annabel is one of my best torturers—you wouldn’t believe the creative skill she can display with a single knife and a Shadowhunter—but like the rest of those around me, she is too vulnerable to her emotions. I don’t know why people don’t just understand what’s best for them.”
“If they did, they wouldn’t need leaders,” said Julian. “Like you.”
Sebastian gave him a considering look. “I suppose that’s true. But it is like a weight of responsibility. Crushing me. You understand.”
“Let us seek out Livia for you,” Julian said. “We’ll go take care of the threat and bring you back her head.”