“That was just me.” Julian was white around the mouth. “Emma didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Emma felt a faint spark of relief light among her fear. He still has my back.
Jia looked down at her hands. “If I were to send all of you back home right now, there would be a riot. If Dearborn is allowed to question you, then public attention will swing away from you. The Cohort suspects your loyalty, mostly because of Helen and Mark.”
Julian gave a harsh laugh. “They suspect us because of our brother and sister? More than because I brought that thing—because I brought Annabel into the city? And promised everything would be all right? But it’s Mark and Helen’s blood that matters?”
“Blood always matters, to the wrong sort of people,” said Jia, and there was a rare bitterness in her voice. She passed a hand over her face. “I’m not asking you to be on his side. God, I’m not asking that. Just get him to understand that you’re victims of Annabel. Those not in the Cohort are very sympathetic to you right now because of Livia—he won’t want to go too much against public opinion.”
“So this is like a pointless little dance we’re doing?” Emma said. “We let the Inquisitor question us, mostly for show, and then we can go home?”
Jia smiled grimly. “Now you understand politics.”
“You’re not worried about making Aline and Helen the heads of the Los Angeles Institute? Given the Cohort’s concerns about Helen?” said Diana.
“It’ll just be Aline.” Julian gazed unwaveringly at Jia. “The Consul’s daughter. Helen won’t be running anything.”
“That’s right,” said Jia, “and no, I don’t like it either. But this may be a chance to get them back permanently from Wrangel Island. That’s why I’m asking for your help—all three of you.”
“Am I going to be interrogated as well?” There was a sharp tension in Diana’s voice.
“No,” Jia said. “But I’d like your help. As you helped me before with those files.”
“Files?” echoed Emma. “How are files important right now?”
But Diana looked as if she understood some secret language Jia was speaking. “I’ll stay, certainly,” she said. “As long as the understanding is clear that I’m helping you and that my interests are in no way aligned with the Inquisitor’s.”
“I understand,” said Jia. Nor are mine hung unspoken in the air.
“But the kids,” said Emma. “They can’t go back to Los Angeles without us.” She turned to look at Julian, waiting for him to say that he wouldn’t be separated from his younger siblings. That they needed him, that they should stay in Idris.
“Helen can take care of them,” he said, without glancing at her. “She wants to. It’ll be all right. She’s their sister.”
“Then it’s decided,” said Jia, rising from behind her desk. “You might as well get them packed—we’ll open the Portal for them tonight.”
Julian rose as well, pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes with one of his bandaged hands. What the hell is wrong with you? Emma thought. There was something going on with Julian beyond what could be explained by grief. She didn’t just know it, she felt it, down in the deep place where the parabatai bond tugged at her heart.
And later tonight, when the others were gone, she would find out what it was.
5
WILDERNESS OF GLASS
When Emma came into Cristina’s room, she found her friend already packing. Cristina packed like she did everything else, with neatness and precision. She carefully rolled all her clothes so they wouldn’t get wrinkled, sealed anything damp into plastic, and put her shoes into soft bags so they didn’t mark up any fabric.
“You realize that when I pack, I just throw everything into a suitcase, and then sit on it while Julian tries to zip it, right?” said Emma.
Cristina looked up and smiled. “The thought gives me hives.”
Emma leaned against the wall. She felt bone tired and strangely lonely, as if Cristina and the Blackthorns had already departed. “Please tell me you’ll be at the L.A. Institute when I get back,” she said.
Cristina stopped packing. She glanced down at the suitcase the Penhallows had provided, open on the bed, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you know how long it will be?”
“A few days.”
“Do you think the family will want me to stay?” Cristina turned wide, dark eyes on Emma. “I could just go home. My study year isn’t over, but they would understand. I feel as if I’m intruding. . . .”
Emma pushed herself off the wall, shaking her head vigorously. “No, no—you’re not, Tina, you’re not.” Quickly, she described her conversation with Jem and the issue of the ley line contamination. “Jem thought I was going back to Los Angeles,” she said. “He asked me to contact Catarina and help her find out more about the ley lines, but it’ll have to be you. Helen and Aline will be so overwhelmed with the kids, and with their grief, and everyone—I know you can do it, Cristina. I trust you.”
Cristina gave her a slightly watery smile. “I trust you, too.”
Emma sat down on the bed. It creaked a protest, and she kicked it, bruising her heel but relieving her feelings somewhat. “I don’t mean that Helen and Aline won’t be any help. It’s just that everyone’s destroyed with grief. They’re going to need someone who isn’t destroyed to turn to—they’ll need you.” She took a deep breath. “Mark will need you.”
Cristina’s eyes widened, and Emma suddenly remembered Mark’s face an hour ago in the kitchen, when she and Julian had broken the news that the family would be returning to Los Angeles tonight without the two of them.
His expression had stiffened. He had shaken his head and said, “Ill news. I cannot—” Breaking off, he’d sat down at the table, his hands shaking slightly. Helen, already sitting at the table, had gone white but said nothing, while Aline had put her hand on her wife’s shoulder.
Dru had silently walked out of the room. After a moment, Mark had risen and gone after her. Tavvy was protesting, offering a hundred different arguments for why Julian should go with them and why they didn’t need to stay and the Inquisitor could come to Los Angeles instead or they could do the interrogation over Skype, which would have made Emma laugh if she hadn’t felt so awful.
“We’re going home?” Helen had said. Julian had bent down to talk to Tavvy in a low voice; Emma could no longer hear them. “Back to Los Angeles?”
“I’m really happy for you, and Jia says she thinks you can stay,” Emma had said.
“She hopes,” Aline said. “She hopes we can stay.” She looked calm, but her grip on Helen was tight.
“But not without you,” Helen said, looking troubled. “We should stay as long as you’re here—”
“No.” To everyone’s surprise, it was Ty. “That would be dangerous for Mark, and for you. This plan makes sense.”
Kit had given Ty an almost indecipherable look, half concern and half something else.
“Home,” Helen said, her eyes glimmering with tears. She looked at Julian, but he was picking up a protesting Tavvy. He carried him out of the room. “I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m sad or happy,” she added, brushing away the tears with damp fingers.
Aline had kissed the top of her head. “Both, I imagine.”
Emma had been halfway up the stairs on the way to Cristina’s room when she had seen Mark, leaning against the wall on the landing and looking dejected. “Dru won’t let me in to talk to her,” he said. “I am worried. It is like a faerie to grieve alone, but not, I understand, like a Shadowhunter.”
Emma hesitated. She was about to say that it wasn’t unlike Dru to lock herself in her room alone, but Dru had looked more than a little upset when she’d left the kitchen. “Keep trying,” she advised. “Sometimes you have to knock for twenty minutes or so. Or you could offer to watch a horror movie with her.”
Mark looked glum. “I do not think I would enjoy a horror movie.”
“You never know,?
?? Emma said.
He had turned to head back up the stairs, and hesitated. “I am worried about you and Jules as well,” he said, more quietly. “I do not like the Inquisitor, or the idea of you being questioned by him. He reminds me of the King of Unseelie.”
Emma was startled. “He does?”
“They give me the same feeling,” Mark said. “I cannot explain it, but—”
A door opened on the landing overhead: It was Cristina’s. She stepped out, glancing down. “Emma? I wondered if you were—”
She had stopped when she saw Mark, and she and Mark stared at each other in a way that made Emma feel as if she had disappeared completely.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Cristina said, but she was still looking at Mark, and he was looking back as if their gazes were hopelessly tied together.
Mark had shaken himself, as if he were casting off cobwebs or dreams. “It is all right—I must go speak with Drusilla.” He had bounded up the stairs and out of sight, disappearing around the bend in the corridor.