His back was covered in runes, from nape to waist. But not like a normal Shadowhunter’s, where the black Marks faded eventually to a thin white line against the skin. These were raised and thick and livid.

Julian had gone white around the mouth. “What . . . ?”

“When I first came to Faerie, they mocked me for my Nephilim blood,” Mark said. “The Folk of the Unseelie Court took my stele and broke it, they said it was nothing but a dirty stick. And when I fought back for it, they used knives to cut the Angel’s runes into my skin. After that I stopped fighting with them about Shadowhunters. And I swore no other rune would touch my skin.”

He bent down and picked up his bloody, wet shirt, and stood facing them, his rage gone, vulnerable again.

“Maybe they could still be healed,” Emma said. “The Silent Brothers—”

“I don’t need them healed,” said Mark. “They serve as a reminder.”

Julian slid off the table. “A reminder of what?”

“Not to trust,” said Mark.

Cristina looked at Emma across the boys’ heads. There was a terrible sadness on her face.

“I am sorry your protection rune failed you,” Julian said, and his voice was low and careful, and Emma had never wanted to put her arms around him so much as she did then, as he faced his brother in the ocean-washed moonlight, his heart in his eyes. His hair was a tangle, his soft curls like question marks against his forehead. “But there are other kinds of protection. Your family protects you. We will always protect you, Mark. We won’t let them make you go back.”

Mark smiled, the oddest, sad smile. “I know,” he said. “My gentle little brother. I know.”

“It’s done,” Diana said, tossing her duffel bag onto the kitchen island with a clanking sound.

Emma looked up. She’d been over by the window with Cristina, testing the bandages on her hands. Julian’s healing runes had taken care of most of her injuries, but there were some ichor burns that were still sore.

Livvy, Dru, and Tavvy were crowded around the kitchen table, fighting over who got the chocolate milk. Ty had his headphones on and was reading, calm in his own world. Julian was at the stove, making bacon and toast and eggs—with burned bits in them, the way Dru liked.

Diana went over to the sink and rinsed off her hands. She was in jeans and a T-shirt, dirt on her clothes and streaking her face. Her hair was pulled back in a tightly knotted bun.

“You set it up?” Emma asked. “The monitor on the convergence?”

Diana nodded, reaching for a dish towel to dry her hands. “Julian texted me about it. Did you think I was about to let you get out of the Clave testing?”

There were groans.

“Thought, no,” said Emma. “Hoped, maybe.”

“Anyway, I did it myself,” Diana said. “If anyone goes in and out of that cave, we’ll get a call on the Institute’s phone.”

“And if we’re not home?” Julian asked.

“Texts,” Diana said, turning around so that her back was to the sink. “Texts go to Julian, Emma, and myself.”

“Why not Arthur?” Cristina said. “Does he not have a cell phone?”

He didn’t, as far as Emma knew, but Diana didn’t answer that. “Now here’s the other thing,” she said. “Mantid demons guard the convergence during the night, but as you know, demons are inactive outside during the day. They can’t stand sunlight.”

“I wondered,” said Emma. “It didn’t make sense that whoever’s doing this would leave the convergence unguarded for half the day.”

“You were right to wonder,” Diana said. Her voice was neutral; Emma searched her face in vain for a clue to whether she was still angry. “During the day the door to the cave seals itself closed. I watched the entrance disappear when the sun rose. It didn’t interfere with setting up the monitoring runes and wards—I did that outside the cave—but no one’s going into that convergence while the sun’s up.”

“All the murders, the body dumping, all of them have happened at night,” Livvy said. “Maybe there’s a demon behind this after all?”

Diana sighed. “We just don’t know. By the Angel, I need coffee.”

Cristina hurried to get her a mug, while Diana brushed at the dirt on her clothes, frowning.

“Did Malcolm help set it up?” Julian asked.

Diana took the coffee gratefully from Cristina and smiled. “All you need to know is that it’s taken care of,” she said. “Now, you’ve got testing today, so I’ll see you in the classroom after breakfast.”

She left, taking her bag and her coffee with her. Dru looked glum. “I can’t believe we have class,” she said. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that had a picture of a screaming face and the words DR. TERROR’S HOUSE OF HORRORS across the front.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” Livvy said. “We shouldn’t have to take tests.”

“It’s an affront,” said Ty. “I am affronted.” He had pushed his headphones down, but his hand was under the table. She could hear him clicking a retractable pen—it was something he had done often before Julian had built him better focus tools, but it was still something he did when anxious.

Against a background of grumbling from everyone, Emma’s phone trilled. She glanced down and saw the screen flash. CAMERON ASHDOWN.

Julian looked over for a moment, then went briskly back to stirring the eggs. He was in a combination of gear, apron, and torn T-shirt that at another time would have had Emma teasing him. Now she just edged toward the window and picked up the call.

“Cam?” Emma said. “Is something going on?”

Livvy looked over and rolled her eyes, then got up to start ferrying plates back and forth between the stove and the table. The rest of the kids were still arguing, though Tavvy had wound up with the chocolate milk.

“I didn’t call to ask you to get back together, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Cameron said. She pictured him as his voice came down the phone: frowning, his red hair messy and askew as it always was in the morning.

“Wow,” said Emma. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Milk thief,” Dru said to Tavvy, and put a piece of toast on his head. Emma stifled a smile.

“I was at the Shadow Market,” said Cam. “Yesterday.”

“Gasp! Shame on you.”

“I heard some gossip around Johnny Rook’s table,” he said. “It was about you. He said he’d argued with you a few days ago.” His voice lowered. “You shouldn’t be seeing him outside the Market, Em.”

Emma leaned back against the wall. Cristina gave her a pointed look, then sat down with the others; soon everyone was buttering toast and forking up eggs. “I know, I know. Johnny Rook is a criminal who does crime. I got the lecture already.”

Cam sounded put out. “Someone else said you were poking your nose into something that wasn’t any of your business. And that if you kept doing it, they’d hurt you. Not the guy who said it—I shook him down a little, and he said he meant someone else. That he’d heard things. What are you poking around in, Emma?”