To speak about all and nothing

"The burning city is mine, and I am yours. I changed the story for you. So tell me the lie that you love me"

And immediately i go:

Not a single soul:

Cardan to Jude:

all of Elfhame: clap her in chains!

Cardan:

Authors: He has PTSD and is in total awe of his power wielding, hyper independent goddess of a wife, who is pretty much his sanity.

Me: *in tears* Oh my god he has PTSD and is in total awe of his power wielding, hyper independent goddess of a wife, who is pretty much his sanity!!?!!?

Dear Bruce,

I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m a little thoughtful today. There’s nobody left here in Blackthorn Hall but me and Julian and there’s kind of a peaceful quiet over the place. Jules is upstairs in his studio and I’m just sitting in bed, writing and thinking about the past months.

Something is ending, Bruce. There’s so much still going on that’s unresolved, of course—the danger to Kit from Faerie, and whatever’s going on with the Cohort in Idris. Alec is in some kind of minimal contact with them, but who knows how that will develop. But among all of that, something is coming to an end for Julian and I, and I don’t know what comes next.

(Well, okay, dramatic much, Emma? I know a little bit. See below.)

Maybe it’s just that the builders are gone and I’ve gotten used to the sound of them bustling around at all hours. Round Tom gave us a lyrical farewell speech that (a) went on for five full minutes, which is a very long time for someone to take to say goodbye, and (b) was both very friendly and also included the line, “Excitement and adventure are your close companions, and I am only a modest maker of dwellings, and so I hope to never meet any of you again as long as I live.”

Julian was annoyed by that. I pointed out that faeries can’t lie, and he pointed out that Round Tom didn’t need to bring it up at all. Which, fair enough. Julian also pointed out that it’s not like Tom’s usual work for members of the Courts is exactly drama-free. Another good point from Jules. Faeries are the most overdramatic Downworlders. Like, more dramatic than vampires, and they spend all their time being like, “oh, I am undead, how I am cursed, let me apply more eyeliner.”

Oh, well, we weren’t looking to be close friends with Round Tom. He did good work, and he was very polite about how happy he was to get away from this house.

Once he and his crew were all gone, we walked through the gardens some, but Julian said he felt like he had every detail of the house and gardens carved into his brain, so we left the house alone for a little while and went down to the river.

There’s a little park on the far side of the Thames from Chiswick; it’s a nature reserve called the Leg O’ Mutton Reservoir and it has a lovely walking path around the reservoir itself. (Also, is that not just the most English thing you have ever heard? Why is so much of London so freaking charming?) It’s a little bit of a pain since we have to walk a solid mile to the Barnes Bridge just to get to the right side of the river, but it was a lovely warm evening and it was nice to walk, Julian and I strolling along together comfortably, one of my favorite ways to be.

Julian made some cold chicken sandwiches and we took them with us along with some lemonade (Bruce, I may have developed a dangerous addiction to British lemonade. I’m sure there’s some way to get ahold of it in Los Angeles, right? Right?!) and we sat on a little blanket alongside the reservoir and watched cormorants diving for fish.

I was feeling mellow and at peace, so of course it was the perfect time for me to ruin that by bringing up a difficult subject. I was too relaxed to remember to be stressed about it. I said something like, “It’s so beautiful here. But…” Julian looked over at me, not worried, just curious, so I said, “I’m not sure I want to live full-time in London. I know we’ve just spent all this time and effort and money on fixing up your family manor and all that.”

I thought Julian would be angry, or sad, so I was not really prepared for his actual reaction, which I would describe as “baffled.” “I never thought we’d be full-time here,” he said, as though the idea had never even occurred to him. “I assumed we’d split our time between LA and here. But only if that was what you wanted.”

I don’t know why he said that last part, because he surely could see that I was no longer looking worried but rather like I was about to kiss him. “You mean, half and half?” I said.

He shrugged easily. “Whatever we like. LA when it’s cold and rainy here, London when it’s hot and burny there.”

I did kiss him then, so I’m going to skip the next five minutes or so, which you, Bruce, are surely not interested in. There was a lot of lemonade-flavored kissing and eventually Jules kissed my ear (which makes hot sparky fizzles go up and down my spine every time) and said, “Wherever you are is where my home is, you know that, right?”

“Sure,” I said, because it was sweet and romantic thing for him to say. But he looked more intent.

“No, I mean—” He shook his head. “It’s not like we’ll split our time between my home here in London and your home there in LA. I have a home in Los Angeles too. And you have a home here. Blackthorn Hall  belongs to my family and you, Emma, are my family. And we —” he looked at me intently — “will always be together. Unless that’s not what you want. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved romantically, Emma. And I want to spend all the rest of my life with that being true.”

I didn’t have to pause to think about it. “So do I,” I said.

I’d thought before about what it would mean for us to get engaged, but it feels too soon for that. This kind of commitment, these promises, feel right and true.

He smiled at that and exhaled, as if he’d been a little nervous. Then he got to his feet and held out a hand to help me up and said, “Let’s get back to the house. I have something to show you.”

“I bet you do,” I said, and usually saying something like that, in the tone I said it, is good for another five minutes I won’t detail here. But you know, it’s Julian, he had a bee in his bonnet, and we walked home a little faster than we’d walked down there.

When we got inside he went straight upstairs to the ballroom. I knew what was up, of course—his secret project he’s been working on this whole time we’ve been here. I sort of lost track of it, what with the ghost and the curse and everything, and I hadn’t realized he’d kept working at it this whole time. Probably in the early mornings before anyone else (or the sun) was up.

He's put a big curtain up in front of it like the dweeb he is, and I was going to tease him about it but then he pulled it down and I saw the whole mural. It takes up the whole wall up there, and it’s just beautiful. The whole family there, all the Blackthorns. Each of them is—

No, that’s not right.

Because I’m in the mural too. I’m right there with the rest of the family, surrounded by them. And each of us is circled with flowers. White flowers for all of those who have passed on. Even Rupert was there, and Julian’s parents, surrounded by white petals. And Livvy, on top, wrapped in white wings.

And red flowers for those of us who are still here. Helen, and Aline, and Mark and Ty and Dru and Tavvy . . .

I started crying basically immediately, you know, the good kind of crying, the crying of love and awe and being overwhelmed by feeling. Julian asked, “Do you like it?”

I do like it. It’s so beautiful and perfect for this moment, when things are ending and new things are yet to begin. And it makes it feel like Blackthorn Hall, truly—the Blackthorns that I know, that I love, not the weird ones a hundred years ago that were responsible for what happened to it. It makes me feel like a big wheel has turned around, and we’re both at the beginning and ending of something new and exciting. For the first time since I got here, I went to sit in bed to write to you and I thought, “I’m in our bedroom in our house,” and it felt right.

Good night, Bruce. I’m going to put you on a bookshelf after this, the one on my side of our bed. Congratulations—now you’re part of Blackthorn Hall too.

Emma

Memo to Consul Alec Lightwood

Re: Wild Fae Relations

After several days of tension, we’re relieved to report that the threats to Christopher Herondale and Wilhelmina Carstairs appear to have been resolved. We have liaised with Gwyn ap Nudd, of the Hunt, and he assures us that the unsworn faerie known as Mother Hawthorn has been relocated to a remote location and her place there will be maintained by the Hunt going forward.

Unfortunately, the safety of Christopher Herondale is still in question in the long term. Please see attached pages of personal correspondence for more informal thoughts and questions at your leisure.

Undersigned,

James Carstairs

Tessa Herondale-Carstairs

Dear Alec,

I made Jem do the formal part of the report because it makes my eyes cross. I felt bad for asking him, but he waved me off—apparently none of us would believe how much paperwork the Silent Brothers file. I was surprised because “paperwork” and “City of Bones” don’t really go together in my mind, but hey.

Anyway, the report is accurate. Julian Blackthorn, clever boy that he is, reached out to Gwyn, who agreed to deal with Mother Hawthorn. (Julian also didn’t tell anyone he did this, of course, because he also loves a dramatic reveal, which I’m sure we all remember well.) After being so terrified, it was certainly wonderful when the whole Wild Hunt swept in and seized Mother Hawthorn and brought Mina back to us. 

Mina, by the way, is happy and healthy and not the least bit shaken, unlike her parents. She was nothing but delighted by the Wild Hunt and has been excitedly and repeatedly telling us that she met a lot of horses and the horses are her friends. Kit, of course, is at least as shaken as we are, possibly more. He’s barely let her out of his sight since she got back. He’s even been sleeping on the floor of her room. (We did move a daybed in there after the first couple of nights.) He has taken this quite hard. He hasn’t wished to talk about it much, but it’s obviously weighting heavily upon him, and there is a familiar troubled look behind his eyes that has remained since the incident. He  is, we fear, beginning to understand what his heritage might really mean, as hard as we have tried to insulate him from it.

Despite Gwyn’s helpfulness, neither we nor Julian really know what exactly has happened between the Hunt and Mother Hawthorn, and we’re disinclined to ask. We know Faerie can be brutal, and most brutal to its own, and it has its own sense of justice and discipline, which often seems very…inhuman. That said, we do trust Gwyn, not least because we trust Diana Wrayburn. If he says that Mother Hawthorn won’t be bothering Kit again, we believe him.

We still don’t quite know what it was Mother Hawthorn said to Kit in that time in which they were alone — when we could see them, and Mina, but not hear them. Kit says it was only what we would have expected, but when he came back to us, his eyes were haunted. I wish I could demand to know what it was she said, or threatened, or revealed, but I know I cannot. He will tell us when he is ready.

That said, we don’t know if Mother Hawthorn has allies who might also know Kit’s secret. However she might have tried to wheedle Kit, we know her aim is hostile; we met her in Buenos Aires, before we even knew of Kit’s existence, and she was very clear. The words have stuck in my head: There is still a First Heir in the world. When the First Heir rises, in all the awful glory bought by the blood of Seelie and Unseelie and Nephilim, I hope destruction comes to the Shadowhunters as well as Faerie. I hope the whole world is lost.

I cannot look at Kit — stretched out on the daybed in Mina’s room, his hand fastened around one of the slats of her crib, even while he’s sleeping — and think awful glory. He’s like any Shadowhunter boy, an unordinary sort of ordinary. He likes movies and spaghetti nights and he bites his nails. He’s just a person, not a destiny.

As for now — very few people know of Kit’s heritage. Emma and Julian, of course, and you and Magnus, Jace and Clary, . . . even Julian’s brothers and sisters don’t know, or know only a vague shadow of the truth. But who else might Mother Hawthorn have told? Not the Seelie Court, surely; we are both sure that the Queen would have already taken steps to get hold of Kit if she knew. Kieran knows, of course, but we have no idea who in his Court he might have told (Emma says Mark and Cristina know some, but not all, of the situation). Obviously Kieran is an ally, and his Court loyal to him. But it’s too easy to imagine an enterprising courtier—or some wild fey—might learn the story and seek to take advantage of that knowledge.

The reality, we have realized, is that secrets like Kit’s come out eventually, and cannot be indefinitely contained. Just among Shadowhunters, keeping it within a small circle of trusted friends still means easily a dozen people.

Which leads us to our first actual request: would Magnus be able to come to Cirenworth sometime soon, to shore up its wards against the incursions of those who might wish to harm Kit? We’re forced to recognize that they are only a temporary solution, but for now they’re the best we can do.

Meanwhile, we feel strongly (and we’re sure you’ll agree) that we need to try to stay ahead of this threat. We’ve asked Kieran to have his spies keep an ear out for any rumors circulating about the First Heir in Faerie. Would you be willing to do the same, through the Alliance? We know that the timing of this is terrible for you—we surely would have chosen less of a precarious political moment for the Clave to have this trouble, if we could have. Know that we support you and will always stand by you. We may have withdrawn from active Shadowhunter life, but we will always be there if you need us.

You’re so young to have taken all of this on your shoulders. Does it not always seem that responsibility comes to us Shadowhunters too early in the morning of our lives? I look at my dear Kit, and I know. We all know what’s coming, like knowing sunset is coming on a day you don’t want to end. The long sunny day of Kit’s childhood is nearly over. I shudder to think what he will have to face when night comes.

With all our love,

Dear Cristina,

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I realize the message I just sent you probably didn’t make a lick of sense, so after you’ve read it, toss it and read this. I was in kind of a hysterical state when I wrote it — I’ve been wanting to tell you all about what was going on with Mina being kidnapped for days, but I couldn’t. Then, when I could, it all just kind of poured out. Again, sorry!

It was awful not being able to say anything to you about what was happening. I’ve always hated politics, as you know—but however unusual your (and Mark’s) position, the Seelie Court would certainly consider you part of Kieran’s retinue, and we were expressly forbidden from contacting either Court about the fact that Mina was kidnapped right out of her bedroom here at Blackthorn Hall. And we obeyed to the letter.

So, it turned out the person who’d spearheaded the kidnapping was Mother Hawthorn, the nursemaid to the First Heir, who chose to marry a Shadowhunter. She’s had a complicated relationship with Shadowhunters, especially Herondales (who DOESN’T have a complicated relationship with Herondales, I ask you) ever since — and now she was demanding to see Kit if we ever wanted to get Mina back.

Nobody wanted Kit to do it, even though everyone was desperately afraid for Mina. But he was determined. There was no stopping him. So arrangements were made through a bunch of faerie go-betweens for Kit to meet Mother Hawthorn. She had demanded a rendezvous near river water, so we went down to the Promenade in Chiswick. There’s an itty bitty park there, and a little bandstand. We all — me and Julian, Tessa and Jem and Kit — walked down there, pretty quietly and somberly. Tessa kept stroking Kit’s back, and it was clear she was trying not to cry. Jem looked like he wanted to kill someone. Kit just looked determined. And Jules — well, I’ll get to Jules.

We stayed some distance away while Kit crossed the dry grass toward the bandstand. As he approached, Mother Hawthorn came out of the trees, holding Mina, and started walking toward him.

Jules and I both tensed up, in case either Jem or Tessa made a break for the baby. We wouldn’t have blamed them, but we knew they couldn’t be allowed to do it – Kit had to be able to try to get Mina without a violent fight. All I can say is, you can kind of see how much they’ve both been through and endured over all the time they've been alive. They clutched each other’s hands and neither of them moved, even though you could see how desperately they wanted to run to their children. It was an incredible display of control, and heart-breaking too.

Kit and Mother Hawthorn came together in front of the bandstand. Of course we couldn’t hear anything of their conversation, but we could see that Mina immediately put her arms out for Kit. Kit tried to reach for her, but Mother Hawthorn held up a hand. She clearly wouldn’t give her back, and they started arguing. I could tell how angry Kit was, even though he was trying to hold onto control. He kept shaking his head no over and over, almost every time Mother Hawthorn spoke.

Anyway, after a couple of minutes of that, Mother Hawthorn started to laugh. She looked over — she clearly saw us and didn’t care — and snapped her fingers. Kit was flung to the ground; he rolled over and came up on his feet, but by then black vines were whipping up out of the ground, slashing at him, winding around his legs. Mina was screaming so loudly we could hear her.

“That’s enough,” Jem snarled, and started across the street. But Julian put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” he said, and we all stared at him — you know I have utter faith in Julian, but for a moment even I wondered if he’d gone crazy.

And then. Then there was this huge noise. I thought it was a helicopter at first, or maybe a bunch of helicopters, but then I realized no, the sound was stranger than that — it was hooves, beating against the sky. They passed over us and—it was Gwyn and Diana! I mean, it was the whole Wild Hunt, there were a couple dozen of them, some on horses, some on winged creatures I’d never seen before. But in front was Gwyn, with Diana on another horse behind him, her hair streaming out behind her.

Diana swooped down and grabbed Mina right out of Mother Hawthorn’s arms. Gwyn was right behind her, and seized up Mother Hawthorn in one arm—that guy is, uh, pretty strong I guess—and kind of slung her over the back of his horse. It looked pretty dangerous for Mother Hawthorn but you know, not a lot of sympathy for kidnappers here.

Diana swooped (the Wild Hunt does a lot of swooping, as you may recall) over to us, and gently handed Mina off to Jem and Tessa. Then Diana winked at us and rose back into the sky, and she and Gwyn and the whole rest of the Hunt ascended faster than I would have thought possible. I guess they had to get Mother Hawthorn away from us, which made sense. Anyway, they disappeared into the clouds and were gone.

I have to say, Diana’s wink was pretty badass. It made me miss doing badass stuff, a little. I think I’ll take Cortana out back tonight and seriously behead some weeds.

So anyway. Kit was running back toward us, and Tessa was crying in relief and Jem was staring at where the Wild Hunt had disappeared. Mina, of course, was fine. She kept saying, “Horsies!” which was hilarious, and then Kit got there and started fussing over her, and Julian and I stepped away to give the four of them space for their reunion.

Julian had one of those Looks on his face, and I had a hunch. “That was you, right?” I said. “You contacted the Wild Hunt.”

He shrugged. “Mother Hawthorn said not to contact the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, but the Wild Hunt is neither. They don’t swear allegiance to anybody.”

“Neither does Mother Hawthorn,” I said. “So it was like, ‘Wild fey, come get your wild friend, she is getting too wild?’”

“Something like that,” he said, and his voice was casual but I could tell he was pleased with himself. And all right, fine, I was pleased with him too, and I told him so.

On the way back to the house we asked Kit what it was Mother Hawthorn even wanted. He said she wanted to tell him he was the descendent of the first you-know-who (I know Kieran has told you something about Kit’s faerie heritage, but not all of it, and most people don't know) and that she had come to take him to live in Faerie where he belongs. He said he tried to make it clear that he didn’t want to live in Faerie, that he was satisfied with the life he had (although he kind of looked over at Jem and Tessa while he said it and I think satisfied is maybe less embarrassing to say than how he actually feels, which is much better than that). She just kept telling him it was his destiny and his duty, his fate would come for him soon enough if he didn’t bend to it, blah blah faerie stuff, you know how they are. (Uh, no offense if you’re reading this too, Kieran.)

I don’t think he was telling the whole truth, though, because Mother Hawthorn went to a lot of trouble just to send a message like that. I mean she could have put that on a postcard. It wasn’t anything Kit didn’t already know, basically. I am sure there was more she said that Kit didn’t want to share — I could tell from his expression. I hope he’ll tell Jem and Tessa, when he’s ready. At least we can be pretty sure Gwyn will make sure Mother Hawthorn stays away from him  — it’s one less thing to worry about.

That’s about all the news from here, and I’m so relieved to be able to share it with you finally. I guess if Kieran needs more information he should reach out to Gwyn; I’ve told you pretty much all I know.

Take care, and talk to you soon, and love to K and M!

Bruce,

I’m sure you’ve been worried about Mina, like all of us. Well, here’s the bad news: she isn’t back.

There isn’t any good news.

Let me start over. Everyone sprang into action once we found the creepy doll and the note, and we started searching the house and the grounds. Although of course nobody really thought she was still here. Maybe there’d be some sign of the faerie (or faeries) that grabbed her, we thought, but of course there was nothing that we Shadowhunters would recognize. Julian sent a fire-message to Ty to ask if the Sensor could be modified again to search for faeries instead of ghosts, and Ty had some ideas, but that just meant the Sensor started going off continuously. Which I guess makes sense given that this whole house is now jammed full of faerie craftwork. Since we don’t think the carved window lintels took Mina…not a help.

Tessa messaged the London Institute, who put the Enclave on high alert and sent a few Shadowhunters to the house to help, which largely has consisted of making tea and also Concerned British Noises (“oh dear, oh dear dear dear,” “I never,” and so on). Jem went to the Shadow Market to make inquiries (which I’m told are called enquiries here), but he came back a few hours later with nothing. He said it wasn’t even like the faeries there were refusing to talk—they seemed as honestly baffled as Round Tom or any of us. I guess most of the Shadow Market faeries stay as far as possible away from Court business, and everyone agreed that kidnapping a Shadowhunter must be a Court thing because random faeries wouldn’t be so stupid as to violate the Accords so brazenly.

Oh, that’s the other thing. Tessa contacting the London Enclave was an absolute last ditch move because now they know about this huge Accords violation and nobody wants war with Faerie. (Except maybe the kidnapper?) On the other hand I can’t imagine Alec Lightwood of all people is about to declare war before we learn more. But still, it ratchets up all the tensions, which isn’t great.

If I ever meet Raziel, I’m going to ask him—well, okay, I guess if I ever meet Raziel I assume I will be obliterated into atoms by heavenly fire, but if I can get a question out first, it’ll be why we can’t Track children. I understand that it’s because they don’t have runes yet, but aren’t they the ones we’re most likely to need to Track? It seems like a design flaw in the whole system. I should talk to Clary about this, maybe she can create some kind of Baby-Finding Rune in the future. Not that that helps us now.

The big question, aside from where Mina is and who took her, is why anybody would want to? It doesn’t make any sense. Julian wondered if someone might have a vendetta against Jem or Tessa, but they couldn’t think of anyone. Round Tom suggested someone might be trying to frame Faerie for the kidnapping, but again, why? Either way, we haven’t contacted Kieran or Adaon yet since we were warned against doing so.

Bruce, I just feel awful. Tessa and Jem only came in the first place to help us with the curse, and now this. It makes me feel sick—maybe there’s something more deeply wrong with Blackthorn Hall than even a broken curse can fix. Or maybe I’m just feeling morbid and worried. Probably that.

Julian calling, back in a sec.

#

Back, and with news. The kidnapper sent a note! I mean, another note. And identified herself!

Your child will be returned to you if, and only if, I am granted a private audience with the one you call Christopher Herondale.

First of all, “the one you call”—I mean, come on. What does she call Kit, The Amazing Whizzo? Second, it was signed “Mother Hawthorn,” which didn’t mean anything to me or Julian, but Jem and Tessa gave each other a Look, and Kit looked miserable. It turns out she was the nursemaid for the First Heir. I mean the First First Heir, long ago — she isn’t officially aligned with the Seelie or Unseelie Courts, as far as anyone knows, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to use all this as leverage with them.

  So this is about Kit, and faerie politics, and it’s a mess, and I feel terrible for Kit, who is as pale and tense as I’ve ever seen him. (And I don’t need to remind you, Bruce, that I’ve seen Kit pretty darn pale and tense.)

Kit of course immediately said yes, he’d meet with her, anything to get Mina back. Julian pointed out that it might be a trap, and Kit exploded. “Of course it’s a trap! But I can’t let Mina be hurt on my behalf.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that, Bruce. So angry or so determined. He’s growing up. Grown up, in a way, like Julian had to grow up so fast; it’s heartbreaking. Kit seems to know what he’s facing — not just now, but in general — and that he can’t shrink away from it. He has to staring it down.

Round Tom pointed out that Mother Hawthorn is unpredictable but even she would hesitate to break the Accords to the extent of harming Mina. Kit pointed out that she already broke the Accords by kidnapping her in the first place.

Jem, I think realizing that Kit was going to agree to the meeting no matter what anyone said, suggested that at the very least we should do it on our terms, in a location we pick, with plenty of precautions in place. Kit said, “Whatever you need. But I’m going to meet this Mother Hawthorn and get Mina back.” And I know they’re, like, sixth cousins or something, but he really sounded like Jace. I guess Herondale stubbornness is bred pretty deep.

Julian was weirdly quiet after Kit yelled at him, and I thought he was hurt, but then I realized he had that look on his face that meant he had an idea but he wasn’t ready to share it yet. Everyone was talking about anti-faerie charms and what runes to put on Kit and Julian just kind of sat in the back of it all, thinking — that way he thinks that isn’t like the way anyone else does it. Completely consumed by planning thinking.

I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve. I could bug him about it, but I’ve learned it’s better to let him tell me when he’s ready. Seeing that look on his face, though, gave me more hope than anything else in the conversation.

Dear Bruce,

We did it! The curse is broken! Rupert is free! Long live Rupert!

In retrospect, it’s insane how much of this we tried to do by ourselves. We should have known that when we finally succeeded we would do it with a whole team present—in this case Jem, Tessa, Kit, and Magnus. (Mina assisted by raising morale and drawing all over everything with her toy stele.)

Everyone’s still here, too, and we can relax a little in a newly uncursed house. (It really is quite homey, now that it’s been cleaned up and, you know, had its demonic aura dispelled.) Everyone except Magnus, who left this afternoon in a great rush to get back to New York.

New paragraph to talk about this, actually, because I have a lot of questions that don’t have answers and I can only ask you, Bruce. So Magnus was in a hurry to get back because of a meeting Alec is holding with Luke and some other Downworlders about plans for negotiating with the Cohort. Okay, but I feel like the Cohort doesn’t have much leverage, right? The situation is way worse for them than for us. We should be able to wait them out—shouldn’t we?

I mean they have a symbolic advantage, I guess. We’re all Shadowhunters and we all miss Idris and Alicante and Lake Lyn and probably a lot of us left stuff there we can’t get back and oh right, also a lot of people lived there who have had to evacuate all over the world and want to get back. I get that. But, like…what are the Cohort even eating in there? Idris doesn’t really grow food. Are they all homesteading in there? Raising crops? Churning butter? It’s kind of hard to imagine Zara doing any of that. But you never know. I mean, there aren’t even any demons to fight in there. Which is a good reminder that Shadowhunters are definitely not meant to hole up in Idris where there’s no demons for them to fight. I feel like Raziel was pretty clear on that point.

They must be losing their minds in there. I hope they found some board games or something.

Maybe Zara has declared herself Queen for Life and she doesn’t have to farm because she just marches around threatening to kill anybody who doesn’t grow her a potato right this instant.

Or maybe we haven’t heard anything because they all ate each other in there. Or maybe they mutinied against Zara and someone else gets to threaten to kill people now.

Okay, end of pondering the Cohort. I’m in a good mood, or was before I started this entry, anyway. We’ve been hanging out with Jem and Tessa and Kit and it’s really great. We ordered in Chinese (delivery couriers are always a bit terrified to come up the driveway, but we tip them like crazy so they’ve started to know us while we’ve been here). We lit candles—for ambience instead of for dark magic, what an idea!—and ate dumplings until we were too full to move, a thing I haven’t done since Magnus and Alec’s wedding. Apparently if I am offered dumplings, I will eat them until I become a dumpling myself. To that I say: I would never reject becoming that which I love most.

Anyway. Even Kit was less broody than usual tonight! He was hanging out with Round Tom and they seemed to be getting on okay. Oh, and I almost forgot! How could I forget! The workers found a coffin buried in the garden. But there was not a horrifying dead body inside, but rather a bunch of old stuff! Using a coffin as a time capsule seemed like a weird choice to me, but Tessa and Jem made some faces and some noises that suggested there was a long-ish story there we’ll have to ask about later.

Anyway, in the coffin was A SCABBARD FOR CORTANA. I mean, right? Can you believe it? Tessa said it used to belong to Cordelia Carstairs, who was Cortana’s wielder generations ago. The scabbard needs a lot of cleaning (a lot of cleaning) but then it can be reunited with Cortana. (After all, I think it’s probably more Cortana’s possession than anyone else’s; perhaps they’ll be happy to be reunited.)

There was also a sword for Julian—what used to be a Blackthorn family sword, but this one is only a hilt, its blade is totally missing, I have no idea why. He’s talking about getting it reforged. Big shock, Round Tom knows a guy. Triangular Jerry. No, I’m kidding on the name, but Round Tom actually does know a blacksmith and he and Julian have started talking about getting that done. (Actually, what Round Tom wants to do is have a forge installed at Chiswick, which is a cool idea, but do we want another building project on top of all the others? I mean, maybe, having a forge here at the house would be pretty cool.)

Oh, you might be wondering about Rupert’s ring, since it’s not like he could take it with him, and he hasn’t come back for it in a ghost way. Magnus checked it out and said no magic any more, just an ordinary ring Tatiana must have enchanted to bind Rupert. But none of us is going to wear it, of course. So we put it on the mantelpiece in the drawing room. Where it will remain.

The Gray-Carstairs-Herondaleses are heading back to Cirenworth tomorrow. It’s been really great having them here, but you know, it will be nice to have them go and have it be just Julian and I here in the house, not feeling creepy all the time. That seems like good times for us.

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Bruce, good times are canceled. Everything’s gone wrong. I guess I was a little too smug about how everything was going; the universe had to come and screw it up for me.

Mina is gone.

And by gone I mean kidnapped.

And by kidnapped I mean, the kidnapper left a creepy old-timey porcelain doll (with wide, dead eyes, ugh) in her place, and a note.

I had just finished writing the above stuff when I heard a horrible scream from upstairs and loud footsteps, and came out to find everyone gathered in Mina’s room staring in horror.

I immediately thought oh no, another curse, or the same curse, the curse isn’t over, and maybe you did too, but that’s not what this is. This is something else entirely. Something involving faeries. Something involving Faerie.

Tess picked up the note, read it, and handed it to Jem with a bad look on her face. Julian was already opening the window to see if anyone could be spotted outside, and I read over Jem’s shoulder: