“She does?” Livvy moved over to the desk, grabbing a pen and a notebook. “Will she tell us?”

“Polperro,” said Jessamine again. She was very pretty, with blond hair and dark eyes. Kit wondered if it was weird to think a ghost was attractive. “It’s a small town in southern Cornwall. Malcolm used to talk about his house plans sometimes, when he was in the Institute.” She waved a translucent hand. “He was very proud of the house—right on top of some famous caves. Dreadful he’s turned out to be a villain. And poor Arthur,” she added. “I used to look after him sometimes when he slept. He had the most awful nightmares about Faerie and his brother.”

“What’s she saying?” Livvy asked, her pen poised over her paper.

“Polperro,” said Kit. “Southern Cornwall. He was very proud of the location. She’s sorry he turned out to be an asshole.”

Livvy scribbled it down. “I bet she didn’t say asshole.”

“We need to go to the library,” Ty said. “Find an atlas and train schedules.”

“Ask her something for me,” said Livvy. “Why didn’t she just tell Evelyn where Malcolm’s house was?”

After a moment, Kit said, “She says Evelyn can’t really hear her. She often just makes things up and pretends Jessamine’s said them.”

“But she knows Jessamine’s here,” said Ty. “She must be a faint spirit, if none of the rest of us can see her.”

“Humph!” said Jessamine. “Faint spirit indeed; it’s clear none of you have practice observing the undead. I have done everything to get your attention outside of smacking one of you in the head with a Ouija board.”

“I just saw you,” said Kit. “And I’ve never practiced being a Shadowhunter at all.”

“You’re a Herondale,” said Jessamine. “They can see ghosts.”

“Herondales can usually see ghosts,” said Ty, at the same time. “That’s why I wanted you to get the Voyance Mark.”

Kit swiveled to look at him. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“It might not have worked,” said Ty. “I didn’t want you to feel bad if it didn’t.”

“Well, it did work,” said Livvy. “We should go wake up Julian and tell him.”

“The older boy, with the brown curly hair?” said Jessamine. “He’s awake.” She chuckled. “It’s nice to see those lovely Blackthorn eyes again.”

“Julian’s up,” Kit said, deciding not to mention that the ghost might have crush on him.

Ty joined Livvy at the door. “Are you coming, Kit?”

Kit shook his head, surprising himself. If you’d asked him a few weeks ago if he’d be pleased to be left alone with a ghost, he would have said no. And he wasn’t pleased, exactly, but he wasn’t bothered, either. There was nothing terrifying about Jessamine. She seemed older than she looked, a little wistful, and not at all dead.

She was, though. She drifted in the waft of air from the closing door, her long white fingers resting on the mantel. “You needn’t stay,” she said to Kit. “I’ll probably disappear in a minute. Even ghosts need rest.”

“I had a question,” Kit said. He swallowed hard; now that it had come to the moment, his throat was dry. “Have you—have you ever seen my father? He just died a little while ago.”

Her brown eyes filled with pity. “No,” she said. “Most people don’t become ghosts, Christopher. Only those with unfinished business on earth, or who have died feeling they owe someone something.”

“My father never thought he owed anyone anything,” muttered Kit.

“It’s better that I haven’t seen him. It means he’s gone on. He’s at peace.”

“Gone on where?” Kit raised his head. “Is he in Heaven? I mean, it seems so unlikely.”

“Christopher!” Jessamine sounded shocked.

“Seriously,” said Kit. “You didn’t know him.”

“I don’t know what comes after death,” Jessamine said. “Tessa used to come and ask me too. She wanted to know where Will was. But he didn’t linger—he died happy and at peace, and he went on.” Her hands fluttered helplessly. “I am not like Charon. I am no ferryman. I cannot say what lies on the other side of the river.”

“It could be awful,” said Kit, making a fist, feeling his new Mark sting. “It could be torture forever.”

“It could be,” Jessamine said. There was wisdom in her featherlight voice. “But I don’t think so.”

She bent her head. The firelight glinted off her pale blond hair, and then she was gone, and Kit was alone in the room. There was something in his hand, though, something that crackled when he moved.

It was a folded piece of paper. He opened it, scanning the words quickly; they had been sketched in a delicate, feminine hand.

If you steal any of the books from the library, I will know, and you’ll be sorry.

It was signed, with several flourishes: Jessamine Lovelace.

* * *

When Livvy came into Julian’s room, he was lying flat on the bed, like a dropped piece of toast. He hadn’t even bothered to change his clothes or get under the covers.

“Jules?” Livvy said, hovering in the doorway.

He sat up, fast. He’d been trying to sort through his thoughts, but the sight of his younger sibling—in his room, this late at night—banished everything but immediate, atavistic panic. “Is everything all right? Did something happen?”

Livvy nodded. “It’s good news, actually. We figured out where Malcolm’s house is—the one in Cornwall.”

“What?” Julian scrubbed his hands through his hair, rubbing at his eyes to wake himself up. “Where’s Ty?”

“In the library.” She sat down on the corner of Julian’s bed. “Turns out there’s a house ghost. Jessamine. Anyway, she remembered Malcolm and knew where his house was. Ty’s checking on it, but there’s no reason to think she wouldn’t be right. Evelyn’s been talking to her for days, we just didn’t think she really existed, but Kit—”

“Can see ghosts. Right,” said Julian. He felt more alert now. “All right. I’ll go tomorrow, see what I can find out.”

“And we’ll go to Blackthorn Hall,” Livvy said. Blackthorn Hall was one of the Blackthorn family’s two land properties: They had a manor in Idris, and a large home in Chiswick, on the Thames. It had once belonged to the Lightwoods, a long time ago. “See if there’s any papers, anything about Annabel. Kieran can’t really leave the Institute, so Mark can stay here with him and Cristina and they can look in the library.”

“No,” said Julian.

Livvy set her jaw. “Jules—”

“You can go to Blackthorn Hall,” he said. “You’ve certainly earned that much, you and Ty, and Kit, too. But Mark goes with you. Kieran can amuse himself weaving daisy chains or making up a ballad.”

Livvy’s mouth twitched. “It seems wrong to make fun of the Fair Folk.”

“Kieran’s fair game,” said Julian. “He’s annoyed us in the past.”