chapter one

"𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔰𝔢𝔡."

~ Charles Dickens, "Barnaby Rudge"

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A demon. Estelle hadn't seen a demon in London in so long, and it just so happens that they were not dressed for demon slaying that particular evening. No black leather gear. Estelle was regretfully dressed in a new dress gifted to her by a potential suitor. She didn't like the man, but the dress was lovely, so of course she kept it.

Patrol had been quiet for so long, that none of them expected to encounter a demon, and so hadn't dressed for demon-slaying.

Seemed destiny wanted to remind her that she needed nothing from that man by ruining her dress tonight. She slashed the demon and cringed internally as the ichor splashed over her dress. The demon was a Deumas demon. Ribbed grey body, sharp beak lined with hooked teeth and ragged claws protruding from splayed paw-like feet.

Thomas, from her right, used his bolas against it and on either side of her stood her parabatai and brother Christopher, and her best friend Matthew, armed with a bow and a seraph blade respectfully. James in front of her regained his senses and let his knives fly into the demon.

It exploded.

"Of course it did." Estelle sighed, bringing a hand up to her face to wipe some particularly large bits of the demon from it.

"How – what – ?" Estelle's brother sputtered, unable to form the words. "But how?" She shook her head cleaned his face with a handkerchief she had stuffed inside her dress. He smiled thankfully. She used some of the clean parts of it to wipe some off her own face.

"Do you mean how is it possible that we finally tracked down the last demon in London and it was also the most disgusting?" James' clothes were untouched. "Ours it not to question why, Christopher."

Estelle looked around to see Thomas scrubbing himself with a half burnt handkerchief. Matthew from beside her tossed his ruined seraph blade to the side. "This is an outrage. Do you know how much I spent on this waistcoat?"

"No one told you to go patrolling for demons dressed like an extra from The importance of Being Earnest." James tossed his parabatai a clean handkerchief.

"I don't think he's dressed like an extra." Estelle said, turning her handkerchief to Christopher once more and trying to gently wipe away what she could. He stood there unmoving.

"Thank you." Matthew bowed slightly.

"I think he's dressed like a main character." Thomas quipped.

Matthew rolled his eyes, mopping his gold hair. "This is the first time in a year that we've patrolled and actually found a demon, so I'd supposed that my waistcoat would probably survive the evening. It's not as if any of you are wearing gear either."

"And this was a new dress." Estelle sighed, tossing her handkerchief to the side. "Such a shame."

"Isn't it from that suitor?" Thomas asked.

Estelle nodded. "He might have been a pig, but the dress. Beautiful."

"Just like you then." Matthew winked.

"I would have taken that more seriously had we been clean and not covered in bits of literal demon, Matthew." She raised her eyebrow.

"We should go back to the Devil and clean up there." Christopher suggested. There was murmur of agreement and they began walking back. As they did, Estelle pondered over the fact that they had actually encountered a demon.

They hadn't seen one in some time, and the past few years were quite peaceful. They still patrolled of course, and trained. But demon appearances seemed to be lessening. The rest of the world didn't seem to encounter this change. Just London. Which made it all the more suspicious.

They walked until the Devil Tavern stood before them. It was at No. 2 Fleet Street and glamoured so no mundanes could see it or hear it. The owner was behind the bar, a werewolf called Ernie, and the crowd was usually a mix of pixies, vampires, lycanthropes and warlocks.

Shadowhunters usually wouldn't be welcomes warmly, but the group was known here. They were greeted with yells of welcome and mockery and they all filed upstairs, save for James, who waited to collect drinks from the barmaid Polly.

She was a werewolf and had essentially taken them under her metaphorical wing when James first rented the attic rooms out three years ago. It was a place for them to go where their parents wouldn't hover. She took to calling them the Merry Thieves.

When they got to the rooms, Estelle looked around fondly at the place. It was a sight for sore eyes after the night they had. Worn walls, ragged furniture and a low fire burning in the grate. A marble bust of Apollo was over the fireplace, missing a nose. The walls were lined with books written by mundane magicians.

Estelle quickly grabbed some of her spare clothes and hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, much to the displeasure of the boys she left behind. "Ladies first, boys." She laughed. She stripped of her ichor covered clothes and tossed them into a black rubbish bag before stepping into the shower and letting the warm water flow over her.

The ichor pooled around her feet in the shower before it slid down the train, away from her. She scrubbed at her body, making sure to get everything off it before she grabbed a clean towel and dried herself off. She wrapped it around her hair as she got dressed in some new clothes.

She slipped into a gorgeous crimson dress that complimented the darkness of her hair. Not being very bothered to dry her hair, she simply unwrapped it from the towel before tossing it into a neat bun and sticking her hair stick through it.

The hair stick was gold and very sharp on the end, serving as a weapon as well as a fashion accessory. Matthew gave it to her a year ago almost, and she had been carrying it with her ever since. After she checked her hair, she walked back into the main room and watched as Matthew rushed into the bathroom after her. She grabbed a book from one of the shelves and sat down on the couch, opening it and beginning to read.

She let her mind drift, not even comprehending Christopher coming back from the other bathroom and taking a seat on her right until she felt him nudge her. She looked over and smiled, lifting one of her arms and letting him curl into her side.

He may be her parabatai, partner in battle and bonded to her for life, but he was still her little brother. Thomas disappeared after Christopher came back and the pair were left in quiet for some while before Matthew came out of the bathroom, dressed in clean clothes, but with his hair still slightly damp, turning it into a dark gold.

Estelle could see him looking at the seat beside him and almost read the internal conflict in his mind about whether or not he should sit there, so she took it upon herself to make it easier for him by placing the book in her lap and using her free hand to pat the spot and send him a reassuring smile.

He brightened and dropped down beside her. Just as Thomas came out of the bathroom and sat down, James walked in. "James! Is that a bottle of cheap spirits I see before me?" Matthew sat up.

"James. I thought you'd gone home." Christopher commented as James set the wine on the table between the seats.

"Why on earth would I go home?" James sat down beside Thomas and tossed some dish towels onto the table.

"No idea. But you might have. People do odd things all the time. We had a cook who went to do the shopping and was found two weeks later in Regent's Park. She'd become a zookeeper." Estella smiled at the memory that her brother recounted.

"I remember that." She replied softly, fondly running a hand through her brothers dark hair. Then, she noticed something. "James." She pointed.

"Your hand." Matthew suddenly looked serious. "What happened?"

"Just a cut." James opened his hand to show it. The wound was a long diagonal slice across his palm. Matthew took James' hand, reaching into his waistcoat for his stele.

"You should have told me. I would have fixed you up in the alley."

"I forgot."

"Did something happen?" Thomas wasn't drinking from his glass, simply running his finger along the rim.

"It was very quick."

"Lots of things can be very quick, James." Estelle shook her head.

"Guillotines, Christopher's experiments that often explode." Matthew backed her up.

"Clearly, I have neither exploded nor been guillotined. I – went into the shadow realm."

Estelle almost dropped her glass of wine and beside her, Matthew's head jerked up as he was drawing an iratze onto his parabatai's skin. "I thought all that business stopped." He said. "I thought Jem had helped you."

"He did help me. It's been a year since the last time." James shook his head. "I suppose it was too much to hope it was gone forever."

"Doesn't it usually happen when you feel a strong negative emotion? Was it the demon?" Estelle asked.

"No." James was quick to reply. "No, I can't imagine – no."

"Demons don't bother our boy." Matthew finished the rune. "It must have been something else."

"You ought to talk to your uncle then, Jamie." Thomas said.

James shook his head. "It was nothing. I was surprised by the demon. I grabbed the blade by accident. I'm sure that's what caused it."

"Did you turn into a shadow?" Estelle questioned, watching as Matthew put his stele away. She remembered the fear she felt the first time she witnessed James turn into a shadow. Usually, he'd be blurred around the edges, but sometimes he would completely turn into a shadow, transparent and incorporeal.

"Speaking of the demon – " Christopher had a notebook pulled out and the end of the pen was in his mouth.

"Which we weren't." Matthew pointed out.

"What kind was it again? The one that exploded, I mean."

"As opposed to the one that didn't?" James asked.

"It was a Deumas demon, Kit." Estelle smiled at her brother fondly.

"Odd. They're not usually in cities." Thomas mused.

"I saved some of its ichor. I caution all of you not to drink any of it." Christopher produced a corked text tube filled with a greenish substance.

"I assure you, little brother, we will not be doing that." Estelle patted his head.

"Enough talk of ichor." Matthew shuddered. "Let's toast to Thomas being home."

They all lifted their glasses to toast with Matthew, Thomas protesting and Christopher raising his test tube. Estelle shook her head and took the tube off his person, quickly handing it off to Matthew, who passed on a glass to give to her brother.

Thomas, despite his protest, looked pleased. He had been away, as most Shadowhunters do when they turn eighteen, in Madrid, having just returned after nine months a few weeks ago.

"When you're entirely done, I do have some news. You know that old manor in Chiswick that once belonged to my grandfather? Used to be called Lightwood House? It was given to my aunt Tatiana by the Clave some years ago, but she's never used it – preferred to stay in Idris at the manor with my cousin, er – "

"Gertrude?" Christopher suggested.

"Grace."

"Her name is Grace."

Both Estelle and James spoke at the same time. Grace was also their cousin, not biologically, but the Lightwoods had never met her. "Yes, Grace." Thomas nodded. "Aunt Tatiana's always kept them both in splendid isolation in Idris – no visitors and all that – but apparently she's decided to move back to London, so my parents are all in a dither about it."

"Grace – " James began slowly. "Grace is moving to London?"

"Seems Tatiana wants to bring her out in society." Estelle commented.

Thomas looked puzzled. "I suppose you've met her, in Idris? Doesn't your house there adjoin Blackthorn Manor?"

James nodded. "I usually see her every summer. Not this summer, of course."

"London is being positively swarmed by new arrivals." Matthew remarked. "The Carstairs family will be with us soon, won't they?"

"Lucie is wild with excitement to see Cordelia."

"I can imagine why. Cordelia is a lovely girl." Estelle agreed.

"Can't blame them for being tired of rusticating in Devon – what's that house of theirs called? Cirenworth? I gather they arrive in a day or two – "

At Matthew's comment, Thomas started, upsetting his drink, James' and Christopher's test. It seemed he still wasn't used to occupying so much space. "All the Carstairs family are coming, did you say?"

"Not Elias Carstairs. But Cordelia, and of course – " Matthew trailed off.

"Oh bloody hell." Estelle sighed, flicking a piece of her hair away from her face.

"Alastair Carstairs." Christopher looked ill. "I'm not remembering incorrectly? He's an awful pill?" Alastair never really bothered Estelle, but nevertheless, she still disliked him because of how he treated her boys.

"Awful pill seems a kind way of putting it." James said. "We can avoid Alastair, Tom. There's no reason for us to spend time with him, and I can't imagine he'll be yearning for our society either."

"Table." Estelle pointed, quickly grabbing a towel. The ichor from the test tube had started eating through it. Thomas tossed some water but it drenched Christopher and Matthew doubled over laughing.

"I say, I do think that worked, Tom." Christopher moved the wet hair from his eyes. "The acid has been neutralised."

"Someone should neutralise you, you mopstick." Thomas shook his head. Matthew collapsed in hysterics and Estelle laughed lightly.

"Well done, Thomas. You've managed to drench him and completely miss the table." She raised an eyebrow, a smile still on her face. She reached for a clean towel and handed it to her brother. "If he gets sick, I'll be coming for you."

"Terrifying, Estelle. Really." Thomas quipped back.

"I'll show you terrifying." She quickly slipped the hair pin from her hand and expertly flipped it over in her hand before pointing the sharp end at him. "I've got a weapon. You haven't. You see how the odd are not in your favour, dear cousin?"

Thomas lifted his hands in surrender and Matthew reached out, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pulling her back slightly. "Leave the maiming for the demons. Alright, Elle?"

She nodded, before quickly tying her hair up again and sticking the pin in it. "Whatever you say, Matthew. Whatever you say."