Ghosts of the Shadow Market Read online

  At that moment, the reception-room door opened, and the Inquisitor walked out with a young man who had familiar features and red hair—Charles Fairchild, Matthew’s brother. Anna rarely saw Charles. He was always somewhere, usually Idris. He and the Inquisitor were mid-conversation.

  “Oh,” Inquisitor Bridgestock said, seeing Anna. “Miss Lightwood. How fortuitous. Do you know Charles Fairchild?”

  “Anna!” Charles said with a warm smile. “Yes, of course.”

  “Charles will be the interim head of the Paris Institute,” the Inquisitor said.

  “Oh,” Anna said. “Congratulations. Matthew didn’t tell me.”

  Charles rolled his eyes. “I imagine he thinks of such things as political aspirations as crass and bourgeois. What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Anna and Ariadne have been training together,” the Inquisitor explained.

  “Ah,” Charles said. “Excellent. You must visit us in Paris sometime, Anna.”

  “Oh,” Anna said, not knowing what “us” Charles was talking about. “Yes. Thank you. I shall.”

  Ariadne stepped out of the morning room. She wore a dress of fresh peony pink, and her hair was coiled on her head. On seeing Anna, her cheeks flushed. Charles Fairchild stepped ahead with Inquisitor Bridgestock, and Ariadne stepped up to her.

  “I did not expect to see you so soon,” she said to Anna in a low voice.

  “How could I keep away?” Anna replied. Ariadne was wearing her perfume again, and it wafted lightly through the air. Orange blossom was Anna’s favorite scent now.

  “Perhaps we can meet later,” Ariadne said. “We are—”

  “I will be back again in a year’s time,” Charles said, concluding whatever conversation he was having with Inquisitor Bridgestock. He returned to them, bowed, took Ariadne’s hand, and kissed it formally.

  “I hope to see more of you when I next return,” he said. “It should not be more than a year.”

  “Yes,” Ariadne replied. “I would like that very much.”

  “Anna!” Mrs. Bridgestock said. “We have a parrot. You must see it. Come.”

  Suddenly, Anna found that Mrs. Bridgestock had hooked her by the arm and was gently leading her into one of the other rooms, where there was a large multicolored parrot in a massive gold cage. The bird cawed loudly on their approach.

  “It is a very nice bird,” Anna said, confused, as Mrs. Bridgestock shut the door behind them.

  “I do apologize, Anna,” she said. “I just needed to give the two of them the chance to properly say their farewells. These things can be so delicate. I am sure you understand.”

  Anna did not understand, but there was a creeping numbness coming over her.

  “It is our hope that they might wed in a few years’ time,” Mrs. Bridgestock went on. “Nothing has been settled, but it is such a good match.”

  The parrot screeched and Mrs. Bridgestock went on talking, but Anna heard only a ringing in her ears. She could still taste Ariadne’s kiss on her lips; she saw Ariadne’s dark hair spread out on the pillow. Those things had happened just hours before, and yet it was like a hundred years had passed and the world had grown cold and unfamiliar.

  The door opened again, and a quiet Ariadne joined them.

  “Has mother introduced you to Winston?” she said, looking at the parrot. “She dotes on him. Aren’t you a nasty beast, Winston?”

  She said it warmly, and Winston the parrot danced along his rail and extended a foot to Ariadne.

  “Did you have a fruitful discussion?” her mother asked.

  “Mother!” Ariadne protested. She was a little pale, but her mother seemed not to notice. “Please, may I speak to Anna?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Bridgestock said. “You girls have a good chat. I’ll have the cook make up some nice strawberry lemonade and some biscuits.”

  When she left, Anna stared blankly at Ariadne.

  “You are to be married?” she said, her voice gone dry. “You cannot marry him.”

  “Charles is quite a good match,” Ariadne said as if she were discussing the quality of a piece of cloth. “Nothing has been settled, but we should reach an agreement soon. But come, Anna, come. Sit.”

  Ariadne took Anna’s hand and led her over to one of the sofas.

  “That won’t be for at least another year or more,” Ariadne said. “You heard Charles. It’s a year before I even see him again. All that time, I will spend with you.”

  She drew a small circle on the back of Anna’s hand with her finger, a gentle motion that took Anna’s breath away. Ariadne was so beautiful, so warm. Anna felt like she was being torn to pieces.

  “Surely you cannot wish to marry Charles,” said Anna. “There is nothing wrong with him, but he is . . . Do you love him?”

  “No,” Ariadne said, clutching Anna’s hand tighter. “I do not love him that way, or any man that way. All my life, I have looked at women and known only they could pierce my heart. As you have pierced it, Anna.”

  “Then why?” Anna said. “Why marry him? Because of your parents?”

  “Because that is the way the world is,” Ariadne said, her voice shaking, the way it had when she had first asked Anna if she might kiss her. “If I were to tell my parents the truth about myself, if I were to reveal who I really am, they would despise me. I would be friendless, cast out, alone.”

  Anna shook her head.

  “They would not,” she said. “They would love you. You are their daughter.”

  Ariadne drew her hand back from Anna’s. “I am adopted, Anna. My father is the Inquisitor. I do not have parents who are as understanding as yours must be.”

  “But love is what matters,” said Anna. “I would have no one but you. You are all to me, Ariadne. I will not marry a man. I only want you.”

  “And I want children,” Ariadne said, lowering her voice in case her mother was returning. “Anna, I have always wanted to be a mother, more than anything else in the world. If I had to bear Charles’s touch, it would be worth it for that.” She shuddered. “I shall never, never love him as I love you. I thought you understood—that this would be a bit of happiness we could snatch for ourselves before the world forced us apart. We can love each other for the next year, before Charles returns—we could have that time and always remember it, hold it close to ourselves—”

  “But when Charles returned, it would be over,” Anna said coldly. “He would claim you. That is what you are saying.”

  “I would not be unfaithful to him, no,” Ariadne said quietly. “I am not a liar.”

  Anna stood up. “I think you are lying to yourself.”

  Ariadne raised her lovely face. Tears poured down her cheeks; she wiped them away with shaking hands. “Oh, Anna, won’t you kiss me?” she said. “Oh, please, Anna. Do not leave me. Please kiss me.”

  She looked at Anna pleadingly. Anna’s breaths were short, and her heart beat a wailing tattoo in her chest. The perfect world she had dreamed of was shattered into a million pieces, turned to dust, and blown away. What replaced it was something cruel and strange. There was not enough air to breathe. Hot tears stung her eyes.

  “Good-bye, Ariadne,” she managed, and staggered from the room.

  * * *

  Anna sat on the edge of her bed and cried for a very long time. She cried until no tears came and her body heaved reflexively.

  There was a soft knock on her door, and her brother peeked his head in.

  “Anna?” he said, blinking his lavender eyes. “Are you all right? I thought I heard something.”

  Oh, Christopher. Sweet Christopher. Anna roughly wiped her face.

  “I’m fine, Christopher,” she said, clearing her throat.

  “Are you sure?” Christopher asked. “Is there nothing I can do to help you? I could perform a saving act of science.”

  “Christopher, get along with you.” It was Anna’s mother, appearing silently as a cat in the corridor behind her son. “Go and do something else. Something without explo
sives,” she added, shooing her second-born off down the hall.

  Anna hastily scrubbed the last traces of tears from her eyes as her mother came into her room, carrying a long, beribboned box. She sat down on the bed and looked at her daughter placidly.

  As always, Cecily was perfectly dressed and perfectly calm-looking, her dark hair in a smooth chignon at the back of her neck, her dress a becoming blue. Anna couldn’t help but think how ghastly she must look in her nightshirt with her face blotchy and red.

  “Do you know why I named you Anna?” Cecily said.

  Anna shook her head, puzzled.

  “I was awfully ill during my pregnancy,” said Cecily. Anna blinked—she hadn’t known that. “I was worried all the time that you wouldn’t live to be born, or you would be sickly and ill. And then you were born, and you were the most beautiful, healthy, perfect child.” She smiled. “Anna means ‘favor,’ as in ‘God has favored me.’ I thought the Angel had favored me with you, and I would make sure you were always happy, always content.” She reached out to gently touch Anna’s cheek. “She broke your heart, didn’t she? Ariadne?”

  Anna was speechless. So her mother did know. She had always thought her mother knew that she loved women, and that her father did as well . . . but they had never spoken of it until now.

  “I am so sorry.” Cecily kissed Anna’s forehead. “My darling lovely one. I know it does not help to be told it, but someone else will come, and she will treat your heart as the precious gift it is.”

  “Mama,” she said. “You do not mind—that I might not get married or have children?”

  “There are many Shadowhunter children orphaned, as Ariadne was, seeking loving homes, and I see no reason why you might not provide one someday. As for marriage . . .” Cecily shrugged. “They said your uncle Will could not be with your aunt Tessa, that your aunt Sophie and uncle Gideon could not be together. And yet, I think you will find that they were wrong, and they would have been wrong even if marriage had been forbidden. Even where laws are unjust, hearts can find a way to be together. If you love someone, I have no doubt you will find a way to spend your life with them, Anna. You are the most determined child I know.”

  “I am not a child,” Anna said, but she smiled, in some amazement. Ariadne might have disappointed her, but her mother was astonishing her in quite the opposite way.

  “Still,” her mother said. “You cannot keep wearing your brother’s clothes.”

  Anna’s heart fell. Here it was. Her mother’s understanding could go only so far.

  “I thought you didn’t know,” she said in a small voice.

  “Of course I knew. I am your mother,” Cecily said as if she were announcing that she were the queen of England. She tapped the long, ribboned box. “Here is a new outfit for you. Hopefully you will find it suitable for accompanying your family in the park today.”

  Before Anna could protest, a loud and demanding cry sounded through the house. Exclaiming, “Alexander!” Cecily swept out the door, instructing Anna to meet her downstairs in the sitting room when she was dressed.

  Glumly, Anna untied the ribbons holding the box closed. She had received many clothes from her mother in the past. Another pastel silk? Another cunningly constructed dress, meant to make the most of her slight curves?

  The ribbons and paper fell away, and Anna gasped.

  Inside the box was the most gorgeous suit she had ever seen. Charcoal tweed with a thin blue stripe, the jacket was neatly tailored. A gorgeous silk waistcoat in radiant shades of blue complemented a crisp white shirt. Shoes, braces—nothing had been forgotten.

  In a daze, Anna dressed herself and gazed into the mirror. The clothes fit perfectly—her mother must have given her measurements to the tailor. And yet there was still one thing not right.

  She tightened her jaw, then crossed the room to get the pair of scissors. Standing before the mirror, she grabbed a thick fistful of hair.

  She hesitated for only a moment, Ariadne’s soft voice in her ears.

  I thought you understood—that this would be a bit of happiness we could snatch for ourselves before the world forced us apart.

  The hair made a satisfying sound as she cut through it. It rained down on the carpet. She took another fistful, then another, until her hair was to her chin. The cut brought her features into sharp relief. She trimmed more in the front, clipped away at the back, until there was just enough to sweep into a gentlemanly wave.

  And now it was perfect. Her reflection gazed back at her, lips curved in an incredulous smile. The waistcoat brought out her eyes; the trousers, the slimness of her legs. She felt she could breathe, even with the ache of Ariadne’s loss in her chest. She might have lost the girl, but she had gained herself. A new Anna, confident, dapper, powerful.

  Hearts were broken across London every day. Perhaps Anna might break a heart or two herself. There would be others—lovely girls would come and go, and she would remain in control of her heart. She would never be torn like this again.

  She was a Shadowhunter. She would take the blow. She would harden herself and laugh in the face of pain.

  Anna descended the stairs soon after. It was late afternoon now, though the sun was still shining brightly through the windows. This day would last forever.

  Her mother was in the sitting room with a tea tray, baby Alex in a basket by her side. Her father sat opposite, engaged in reading the newspaper.

  Anna stepped into the room.

  Both her parents looked up. She saw them take in her new clothes, as well as her short hair. She stood in the doorway, bracing herself for whatever response was coming.

  A long moment passed.

  “I told you the blue waistcoat was the one,” Gabriel said to Cecily. “It brings out her eyes.”

  “I did not disagree,” said Cecily, rocking the baby. “I just said she would also look very well in red.”

  Anna began to smile.

  “Much better than your brother’s clothes,” Gabriel said. “He does dreadful things to them with sulfur and acids.”

  Cecily examined Anna’s shorn locks.

  “Very sensible,” she said. “Hair can be cumbersome in battle. I like it very much.” She rose to her feet. “Come sit,” she added. “Stay with your brother and father a moment. There is something I meant to fetch for you.”

  As her mother left the room, Anna felt her limbs go tingly as she sat down on the settee. She reached down to Alex. He was looking all around the room, taking in all the wonders anew in the way that babies do whenever they awake and find that the world is still there, to be understood in all its myriad complexities.

  “I understand how you feel,” she said to her brother.

  He smiled a toothless smile at her and reached up a chubby hand. She extended her own, and he grabbed her finger.

  Her mother returned only a few minutes later with a small blue box.

  “You know,” Cecily said, sitting down and refilling her teacup, “my parents did not want me to be a Shadowhunter. They had fled the Clave. And your uncle Will . . .”

  “I know,” Anna said. Gabriel gazed fondly at his wife.

  “But I was a Shadowhunter. I knew it then, when I was fifteen. I knew it was in my blood. Foolish people say so many things. But we know who we are, inside.”

  She set the blue box on the table and pushed it toward Anna.

  “If you will accept it,” her mother said.

  Inside the box was a necklace with a glimmering red gem. Latin words were etched onto the back.

  “For your protection,” she said. “You know what it does.”

  “It senses demons,” Anna said, astonished. Her mother wore it nearly every time she went out to fight, though that was rarer now that Alexander had come along.

  “It cannot protect your heart, but it can protect the rest of you,” Cecily said. “It is an heirloom. It should be yours.”

  Anna fought back the tears that sought to fill her eyes.

  She took up the necklace and cla
sped it about her throat. She stood up and gazed at herself in the mirror over the fireplace. A handsome reflection gazed back at her. The necklace felt right, just as her short hair did. I do not have to be only one thing, Anna thought. I can choose what suits me when it suits me. The trousers and jacket do not make me a man, and the necklace does not make me a woman. They are only what makes me feel beautiful and powerful in this moment. I am exactly as I choose to be. I am a Shadowhunter who wears gorgeous suits and a legendary pendant.

  She looked at her mother’s reflection in the glass. “You were right,” she said. “The red does suit me.”

  Gabriel chuckled softly, but Cecily only smiled.

  “I have always known you, my love,” Cecily said. “You are the gem of my heart. My firstborn. My Anna.”

  Anna thought of all the pain of the day again—the wound that had ripped her chest open and exposed her heart. But now it was as if her mother had drawn a rune over it and closed it. The scar was there, but she was whole.

  It was like being Marked all over again, defining who she was. This was Anna Lightwood.

  Learn About Loss

  By Cassandra Clare and Kelly Link

  Chattanooga, 1936

  On the morning of October 23, the inhabitants of Chattanooga, Tennessee, woke up to discover posters tacked up on the sides of buildings on every street. FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY, the posters declared, MAGIC & MUSIC & MOST MYSTERIOUS MERCHANTS’ BAZAAR. PAY ONLY WHAT YOU CAN AFFORD & ENTER FAIRYLAND. SEE WHAT YOU MOST DESIRE. ALL WELCOME.

  Some men and women passed these posters, shaking their heads. It was the height of the Great Depression, and even if the president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, was promising more work on projects like the tunnel and trails and campgrounds underway in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, jobs were scarce and times were hard and most people didn’t have money to spare on fripperies or fun. And who wanted to travel all the way up Lookout Mountain only to be turned away because what you could afford was nothing? Besides, no one ever gave you something for nothing.

  But plenty of other Chattanoogans saw the posters and thought that maybe better times really were just around the corner. There was a New Deal, and maybe there would be new fun, too. And there was not a single child who caught sight of the posters and didn’t yearn with their entire heart for what the posters promised. The twenty-third of October was a Friday. On Saturday, at least half the city of Chattanooga lit out for the carnival. Some of them packed bedrolls or tarps to sleep under. If there was music and festivity, maybe they would stay longer than a day. The churches of Chattanooga were poorly attended on Sunday morning. But the carnival in the Fairyland neighborhood of Lookout Mountain was busier than a beehive.