The Last Hours: Chain of Thorns by Cassandra Clare

Author:Cassandra Clare [Clare, Cassandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781529513370
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2023-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

21

UNDER A DRAGON MOON

Do you remember when we went

Under a dragon moon,

And ’mid volcanic tints of night

Walked where they fought the unknown fight

And saw black trees on the battle-height,

Black thorn on Ethandune?

—G. K. Chesterton, Ballad of the White Horse

Mantid demons, Cordelia saw, seven or eight of them, chittering as they sprang over the metal fence surrounding the square’s central garden. They kept their jagged forelegs folded against their chests, though Cordelia knew they could whip out with shocking speed, slashing anything in their path like straight razors. Their heads were triangular, with long mandibles clicking to either side, their eyes blank, ovoid and white.

James slid his pistol from his belt. Cocked and aimed it. “Cordelia, Jesse, Anna,” he said in a low, calm voice. “Get to the house. We’ll deal with these.”

Cordelia hesitated. Part of her suspected James was just trying to get her out of the way of the fight. She’d been the only person in the weapons room at the Institute not to pick up equipment. She knew she couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk summoning Lilith, however much she hated to duck away from a fight.

And Jesse, of course, for all that he was armed, wasn’t trained. He didn’t seem bothered, though. He glanced once at Lucie, already swinging her axe, before he turned and ran silently alongside Cordelia and Anna toward the Lightwoods’ house.

At first it seemed that all the windows were dark, but a faint glow showed around one side of the house, like a spark of reflected moonlight. Anna tensed, and gestured for Jesse and Cordelia to follow her quietly.

As they slipped around the house, keeping to the shadow of the wall, Cordelia could hear the noises of fighting from the square. Metal scraping stone, grunts and hisses, the thick sound of a blade colliding with demon flesh, all of it punctuated every few minutes by the sharp report of a gun.

They turned a corner. They were behind the house now, almost up against the fence that divided the Lightwoods’ property from the one next door. An arched window here was lit with a soft radiance; in its glow, Cordelia could see the harsh fury on Anna’s face. Her parents’ home, the place she had grown up, had been invaded.

The three Shadowhunters gathered at the edge of the window and peered inside. There was Gabriel and Cecily’s sitting room, as it always was, with blankets folded in a basket near the comfortable-looking couch, and a Tiffany lamp casting a warm glow over the room.

Before the cold fireplace, Tatiana sat in an armchair, Alexander cradled in her arms. Her lips were moving. Cordelia’s stomach turned. Was she singing to him?

Alexander was struggling, but feebly; Tatiana’s grip on him seemed to be iron-hard. With one hand, she pulled up the jacket of his little suit, and then his shirt, while with the other—with the other, gripping a stele, she began to draw a rune on his bare chest.

Cordelia stifled a moan of horror. You simply couldn’t put

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