The other boy froze. Kit looked up to see two other Shadowhunters standing on the cellar steps: a boy with blazing blue-green eyes and the blond girl he had seen at the Shadow Market the week before. They were both staring--not at him, but at the boy gripping his shirt.
The boy winced but held his ground, defiance chasing alarm across his face. Aha, Kit thought with dawning realization. You're not supposed to be down here, are you?
"Tiberius Blackthorn," said the boy with blue-green eyes. "What on earth are you doing?"
Emma stood and gawked at Ty, completely brought up short. It was as if the Institute had suddenly appeared in the middle of Johnny Rook's cellar: The sight of Ty was familiar, and yet totally incongruous.
Ty looked rumpled and more frazzled than she'd seen him in years, though his grip on his dagger was steady. Diana would have been pleased. She would probably not have been pleased that he was pointing it at the throat of a mundane boy--he looked about fifteen, and oddly familiar. She'd seen him before, Emma realized, at the Shadow Market. His hair was a mass of blond tangles; his shirt was clean but ragged, his jeans worn to a faded pallor. And he looked ready to punch Ty in the face, which was unusual for a mundane in his position. Most of them were much more unsettled by a knife to the throat.
"Ty," Julian said again. He looked furious--fury with an edge of panic. "Ty, let go of Johnny Rook's son."
The blond boy's eyes widened. "How did you--how do you know who I am?" he demanded.
Julian shrugged. "Who else would you be?" He tilted his head to the side. "Maybe you know something about the Lottery at the Midnight Theater?"
"Jules," Emma said. "He's just a kid."
"I'm not a kid!" the boy protested. "And my name is Kit."
"We're trying to help," Julian said. The blond boy--Kit--scowled. Julian softened his voice. "We're trying to save lives."
"My father told me that's what Shadowhunters always say."
"Do you believe everything he says?"
"He was right this time, wasn't he?" Kit pointed out. His gaze slid to Emma; she remembered noticing that he had the Sight. She'd thought he was Rook's assistant, though, not his son. They looked nothing alike. "You said it."
"I meant--" Julian began.
"I don't know anything about a lottery," Kit snapped. He glanced at Tiberius. What was odder, perhaps, was that Ty was looking at him. Emma remembered Ty, years ago, saying, Why do people say "look at me" when they mean "look at my eyes"? You could be looking at any part of a person and you're still looking at them. But he was looking curiously at Kit's eyes as if they reminded him of something.
"Kit!" The voice was a roar. Emma heard skidding footsteps on the stairs, and Johnny Rook appeared. One of his sleeves was singed. Emma had never seen him look so furious. "Leave my son alone!"
Ty steadied his grip on the knife, straightening his spine. He faced Johnny Rook without a speck of fear. "Tell us about the Lottery," he said.
Kit winced. Emma could see it, even in the gloom. Ty didn't seem frightening to her, but then, she'd cuddled him when he was three years old. But fear was clear in Johnny Rook's face: As far as he was concerned, Nephilim had snuck a Shadowhunter into his basement to murder his son.
"I'll give you Casper Sterling's address," he said as Kit stared at him, looking bewildered. Clearly he had rarely seen his father so shaken. "I've got it, okay? He's got a bunch of identities, he isn't easy to find, but I know where he lives. All right? Good enough? Let my son go!"
Ty lowered the knife and stepped back. He kept it in his hand, his eyes on Kit as the other boy rubbed ruefully at the dent in his throat. "Dad, I--" Kit started.
"Be quiet, Kit," Johnny Rook snapped. "I've told you. Don't say anything in front of Nephilim."
"We're on the same side," Julian said in his calmest voice.
Johnny Rook whirled on him. His face was red, his throat working. "Don't you dare tell me what side I'm on, you know nothing, nothing--"
"Enough!" Emma shouted. "By the Angel, what are you so frightened of?"
Johnny slammed his mouth shut. "I'm not frightened," he said through his teeth. "Just get out," he said. "Get out, and don't ever come here again. I'll text you the address but after that, don't call, don't ask me for favors. We're done, Nephilim."
"Fine," Emma said, gesturing for Ty to come toward her and Julian. "We'll go. Ty--"
Ty slid the knife he'd been holding into his belt and darted up the steps. Julian turned and went after him. The boy at the bottom of the stairs didn't watch them go; his eyes were fixed on his father.
He wasn't much younger than Emma--maybe by a year or two--but she felt a sudden inexplicable surge of protectiveness toward Johnny Rook's son. If he had the Sight, then all of Downworld was open to him: terrifying and inexplicable. In his own way he was like Tiberius, living in a world he saw differently than everyone else.
"Fine, Johnny," Emma said again, loudly. "But if you change your mind, you have my number in your phone. Under Carstairs."
Johnny Rook glared at her.
"Call me," Emma said again, and this time she looked directly at Kit. "If you ever need anything."
"Get OUT." Rook looked as if he were going to explode or have a heart attack, so with a last look over her shoulder, Emma went.
Emma found Ty out by the car. Clouds had gathered, scudding in quick bursts across the sky. Ty was leaning against the trunk, the wind ruffling his black hair. "Where's Jules?" she asked as she got close.
"Over there." He pointed. "I got into the house with an Open rune. I broke the lock on the basement door. He's fixing it."
Emma glanced over toward Johnny Rook's and saw Jules's lean, long figure outlined by the stuccoed wall. She opened the trunk of the car, unbuckling her weapons belt. "How did you get here, anyway?"
"I hid in the backseat. Under that blanket." Ty pointed. Emma could see the edge of a pair of headphones peeking out from under the quilt's fuzzy edge. "You think Julian's mad at me?" With the knife put away, he looked very young, his gray eyes clear and open, fixed on the clouds overhead.
"Ty." Emma sighed. "He's going to murderate you."
Julian was heading back toward them. Ty said, "That's a neologism."
Emma blinked. "It's a what?"
"A word you made up. Shakespeare made up words all the time."
Emma smiled at him, oddly touched. "Well, 'murderate' isn't exactly Shakespeare."
Ty braced himself as Julian walked directly up to him, not breaking stride, his jaw set, his blue-green eyes as dark as the deep part of the ocean.
He reached Ty and caught hold of him, pulling him into a fierce hug. He pressed his face down into his little brother's black hair as Ty stood, frozen and astonished at Julian's lack of anger.
"Jules?" he said. "Are you all right?"
Julian's shoulders shook. He held his little brother tighter, as if he could crush Ty into himself, into a place where he'd always be safe. He put his cheek against Ty's curls, squeezing his eyes shut, his voice muffled. "I thought something happened to you," he said. "I thought Johnny Rook might--"
He didn't finish his sentence. Ty put his arms carefully around Julian. He patted his back, gently, with his slender hands. It was the first time Emma had seen Ty comfort his older brother--almost the first time she'd ever actually seen Julian let someone else take care of him.
They were silent on the long highway drive back to the Institute; silent as the clouds cleared away, blown inland by the ocean air. The sun was low on the water as they drove up the Pacific Coast Highway. They were silent as they got out of the car and Julian finally really spoke.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said, looking at Tiberius. He'd stopped shaking--thankfully, since he'd been driving--and his voice was steady and soft. "It was too dangerous for you to come with us."
Ty put his hands in his pockets. "I know what you think. But this is my investigation too."
"Mark texted me to tell me you were missing," Julian said, and Emma started; she
should have guessed that was what all the business with Jules's phone had been about. "I almost walked right out of Rook's house. I don't think he would have let us back in."
"I'm sorry you were worried," said Ty. "That's why I hugged you outside Rook's house, because I was sorry you were worried. But I'm not Tavvy. I'm not a child. I don't need to always be there so that you or Mark can find me."
"You shouldn't have come into Rook's house either." Julian's voice rose. "It wasn't safe."
"I wasn't planning to come inside. Just to look at the house. Observe it." Ty's soft mouth hardened. "Then I saw you go in, and I saw someone moving around downstairs. I thought they might come up and attack you when you didn't expect it. I knew you didn't realize anyone was down there."
"Jules," Emma said. "You would have done the same thing."
Jules shot her an exasperated look. "Ty's only fifteen."
"Don't say it's dangerous because I'm fifteen," Ty said. "You did things just as dangerous when you were fifteen. And Rook wouldn't have told you Sterling's address if I hadn't been holding a knife on his son."
"That's true," said Emma. "He got into that protection circle too fast."
"You couldn't have known he had a son hidden down there," Julian said. "You couldn't have predicted what would happen, Ty. It was luck."
"Prediction is magic," Ty said. "It wasn't that, and it wasn't luck, either. I've heard Emma talk about Rook. Diana too. He sounded like someone who would hide things. Who you couldn't trust. And I was right." He looked hard at Jules; he wasn't looking him in the eye, but his gaze was direct. "You always want to protect me," he said. "But you won't ever tell me when I'm right. If you let me make decisions on my own, maybe you'd worry about me less."
Julian looked stunned.
"It could help that we know Rook has a son," said Ty. He spoke with a clear confidence. "You can't be sure it won't. And I got you Sterling's address. I helped, even if you didn't want me there."
In the dim light spilling down from the Institute, Julian looked as vulnerable as Emma had ever seen him. "I'm sorry," he said, almost formally. "I didn't mean to make it sound like you didn't help."
"I know the Law," said Ty. "I know fifteen isn't grown up. I know we need Uncle Arthur, and we need you." He frowned. "I mean, I can't cook at all, and neither can Livvy. And I wouldn't know how to put Tavvy to bed. I'm not saying you need to put me in charge or let me do whatever I want. I know there are rules. But some things--maybe Mark could do them?"
"But Mark--" Julian began, and Emma knew his fear. Mark might not stay. He might not want to.
"Mark's just getting to know you all again and know what it's like being here," Julian said. "I don't know if we could ask him to do too much."
"He wouldn't mind," said Ty. "He likes me. He likes us."
"He loves you," said Julian. "And I love you too. But Ty, Mark might not-- If we don't find the killer, Mark might not be able to stay here."
"That's why I want to help solve the mystery," said Ty. "So Mark can stay. He could take care of us, and you could rest." He pulled his jacket closed, shivering; the wind off the ocean was intensely cool. "I'm going to go inside and find Livvy. Mark too. He was probably worried."
Julian stared after Ty as he went into the house. The look on his face--it was as if Emma were looking at one of his paintings, but crumpled and torn, the colors and lines jumbled. "They all think that, don't they?" he said slowly. "They all think Mark is going to stay."
Emma hesitated. A few days before, she would have told Julian not to be ridiculous. That Mark would stay with his family, no matter what. But she had seen the night sky in Mark's eyes when he talked of the Hunt, heard the cold freedom in his voice. There were two Marks, she thought sometimes: the human and the faerie. Human Mark would stay. Faerie Mark could not be predicted.
"How could they not?" Emma said. "If I got one of my parents back somehow--and then thought they were going to leave again, voluntarily--"
Julian looked ashen. "We live in a world of demons and monsters, and the thing that scares me the most is the idea that Mark might decide he belongs with the Wild Hunt and leave. Even if we solve the mystery and satisfy the Fair Folk. He might still go. And he'll smash their hearts to pieces. They'll never recover."
Emma moved closer to Julian, laying a hand against his shoulder.
"You can't protect the kids against everything," she said. "They have to live in the world and deal with what happens in the world. And that means loss sometimes. If Mark chooses to leave, it'll be awful. But they're strong kids. They'll live through it."
There was a long silence. Finally Julian spoke. "Sometimes I almost wish Mark hadn't come back," he said in a dry, tense voice. "What does that make me?"
H-U-M-A-N, Emma traced on his back, and for a moment he leaned into her, seeming to draw comfort from her, the way parabatai were supposed to. The noises of the desert dimmed around them--it was something parabatai could do, create a quiet space where there was nothing but themselves and the live connection of magic that bound them.
A loud crash broke through the silence. Julian drew away from Emma with a start. There was another crash, clearly coming from inside the Institute. Julian spun around; a moment later he was racing up the back steps of the house.
Emma followed him. There was more noise: She could hear it even on the staircase, the clanging of dishware, the sound of laughing voices. They hurried upstairs, side by side. Emma reached the kitchen first and swung the door open.
She gasped.
It looked as if the kitchen had exploded.
The refrigerator had been emptied out. Ketchup decorated its once-white surface in scarlet swirls. One of the pantry doors was hanging off its hinges. The Costco tub of maple syrup had been dragged out, and syrup covered almost every available surface. A massive bag of powdered sugar had been torn open and Tavvy was sitting inside it, completely covered in white powder. He looked like a tiny abominable snowman.
Mark seemed to have tried cooking, since there were pans on the stove, filled with burned substances that were pouring smoke into the air. The flames were still on. Julian darted to turn them off while Emma stared.
Julian's kitchen, which he'd stocked with food for five years, kept clean and cooked in, made pancakes in--was destroyed. Bags of candy had been ripped open and littered the floor. Dru was sitting on the counter, poking at a glass of something foul-looking and humming happily to herself. Livvy was curled up on one of the bench seats, giggling, a stick of licorice in her hand. Ty was beside her, licking a speck of sugar from the back of his wrist.
Mark emerged from the pantry wearing a white apron with red hearts on it and carrying two pieces of singed bread. "Toast!" he announced happily, before catching sight of Julian and Emma.
There was a silence. Julian appeared to be struggling for words; Emma found herself backing toward the door. She had suddenly remembered the fights Mark and Julian used to have when they were children. They had been vicious and bloody in scope, and Julian had given as good as he got.
In fact, sometimes he had given before he got.
Mark raised his eyebrows. "Toast?"
"That's my toast," Ty pointed out.
"Right." Mark crossed the room, side-eyeing Julian as he went. Julian was still wordless, slumped against the stove. "And what do you want on your toast?"
"Pudding," Ty said promptly.
"Pudding?" Julian echoed. Emma had to admit that when she'd imagined the first word Julian was going to say out loud in this situation, it hadn't been "pudding."
"Why not pudding?" Livvy said equably, locating a container of tapioca pudding and handing it to her twin, who began to spoon it onto the bread in measured doses.
Julian turned to Mark. "I thought you said she was locked in her room."
"She came out when you guys texted that you found Ty," said Mark.
"There didn't seem to be any reason not to," said Livvy.
"And why is the toaster in the pantry?" Julian said. br />
"I couldn't find any other . . ." Mark seemed to be searching for words. "Electrical outlets."
"And why is Tavvy in a bag of sugar?"
Mark shrugged. "He wanted to be in a bag of sugar."
"That doesn't mean you should put him in a bag of sugar." Julian's voice rose. "Or practically destroy the stove. Or let Drusilla drink--what is in that glass, Dru?"
"Chocolate milk," Dru said promptly. "With sour cream and Pepsi."
Julian sighed. "She shouldn't be drinking that."
"Why not?" Mark untied the apron around his waist and flung it aside. "I do not understand the source of your anger, brother. They're all alive, aren't they?"
"That's a pretty low bar," Julian said. "If I'd realized all you thought you had to do was keep them alive--"
"That's what you said," Mark said, half angry and half bewildered. "You joked about it, said they could take care of themselves--"
"They can!" Julian had risen to his full height; he seemed suddenly to tower over Mark, bigger and broader and altogether more adult than his brother. "You're the one causing the chaos! You're their older brother, do you even know what that means? You're meant to take better care of them than this!"
"Jules, it's fine," Livvy said. "We're fine."
"Fine?" Julian echoed. "Ty sneaked out--and I'll talk to you about that later, Livia--got into Johnny Rook's house, and held his son at knifepoint; Livvy locked herself in her room, and Tavvy is possibly permanently coated in sugar. As for Dru, we've got about five minutes until she throws up."
"I won't," Dru said, scowling.
"I'll clean it," Mark said.
"You don't know how!" Julian was white-faced and furious. Emma had rarely seen him so angry. "You," he said, still looking at Mark, "you used to look after them, but I guess you've forgotten that. I guess you've forgotten how to do anything normal."
Mark flinched. Tiberius stood up; his gray eyes burned in his pale face. His hands were moving at his sides, fluttering. Moth's wings--wings that could hold a knife, could cut a throat. "Stop," he said.
Emma didn't know whether he was talking to Julian, to Mark, or to the room in general, but she saw Julian freeze. She felt her heart contract as he looked around the room at his brothers and sisters. Dru sat unmoving; Tavvy had climbed out of the sugar and was gazing at Julian with wide blue-green eyes.