“Anything’ is such a general word, so unspecic,” said Pangborn, sounding melancholy. “Surely someone who owns so many books must know something.”
“If you want to know where to nd a jog-toed swallow in springtime, I could direct you to the correct reference title. But if you want to know where the Mortal Cup has disappeared to …”
“‘Disappeared’ might not be quite the correct word,” purred Pangborn. “Hidden, more like. Hidden by Jocelyn.”
“That may be,” said Luke. “So hasn’t she told you where it is yet?”
“She has not yet regained consciousness,” said Pangborn, carving the air with a long-ngered hand. “Valentine is disappointed. He was looking forward to their reunion.”
“I’m sure she didn’t reciprocate the sentiment,” muttered Luke.
Pangborn cackled. “Jealous, Graymark? Perhaps you no longer feel about her the way you used to.”
“I never felt any way about her, particularly,” said Luke. “Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might have banded together. But I’m not going to try to interfere with Valentine’s plans for her, if that’s what he’s worried about.”
“I wouldn’t say he was worried,” said Pangborn. “More curious. We all wondered if you were still alive. Still recognizably human.”
Luke arched his eyebrows. “And?”
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