Bred in the Bone #2
Thule. Another dimension, which had once been identical to Earth, but where things had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
There, the Shadowhunters had lost the Battle of the Burren, and Sebastian, triumphant, ruled over a world of demons and their defeated, terrified human prey.
It was a world where there were almost no Shadowhunters, and those who still lived were in hiding, a tiny resistance headed up by none other than Livvy Blackthorn.
A proud, scarred, different Livvy, who in that world, unlike in their own, was alive.
“I wonder about her all the time,” Julian had said. “If she’s okay. If she’s protected. We destroyed Sebastian in Thule, but that doesn’t mean she’s all right.”
“I know,” Emma said. “Is it worse when we’re here? In Los Angeles?”
“Maybe,” Julian said. It made sense: The part of Thule they’d visited was occupied Los Angeles, ruled over by Sebastian from the bloody innards of a hellish nightclub.
It was in that ghostly ruin of their hometown that they’d learned that there, Livvy was alive, but nearly everyone else they’d known had died horribly.
But not us, Emma had thought soberly, staring out at the ocean.
What had happened to Emma and Julian in Thule was potentially worse.
They had become Endarkened, slaves of Sebastian, mindless followers in his cult.
She remembered her first sight of them, Thule Emma and Thule Julian, together on the beach—the same beach she could see now, from the roof—and then her last sight of them: that world’s Emma crouched over the dead body of Thule Julian, howling out her agony at his death…
She shuddered, and Julian had moved closer to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Worrying when there’s nothing you can do is what big brothers are all about,” said Emma. “At least, that’s what I’ve learned from watching you.”
He smiled, almost reluctantly. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not. You like it that I worry, but also believe I’m completely ineffectual?”
Emma laughed. “That is not what I meant.”
“I know. Whenever things got really hard, back in the day,” Julian said, “I used to remind myself: You just have to hold on until they’re grown up enough to take care of themselves…”
“And you did. And they are.”
“And now I can’t hold their hands anymore,” Julian said. “I can’t watch over them all the time, not even Tavvy. It feels—quiet.”
In some ways, he had sounded less like a big brother than like a father. Which made sense. Since the Dark War, that’s pretty much what Julian had been.
“Too quiet?” Emma asked.
Julian had turned his gaze away from the moon, and toward Emma. He touched her cheek, gently. “Quiet has its perks,” he said. Then he had kissed her.
In the empty parking lot, Emma didn’t tell Helen any of that—the memory belonged to her and Julian alone. But she did admit it was unsettling sometimes, to be reminded of both how much had changed and how much never would.
“I get it,” Helen said. “A few months ago, Aline and I went back to Wrangel Island on Clave business, and it was exactly like we remembered. So much is different, but”—she shrugged—“look at the Cohort. Some things will never change.”
Emma wondered if Helen still thought of her freedom as temporary—if she was still waiting for the day the Clave would betray her again. She gave her friend a tight hug. “So much does change, though, for the better. Like you and Aline back home.”
“And you and Julian, together,” Helen added. “It’s still good?”
“Disgustingly good,” Emma said. “I never thought I’d be one of those boring people who just wants to sit at home with her boyfriend or talk endlessly about how great it is to sit at home with her boyfriend, but…”
“But it’s pretty great?”
“Stupendously great,” Emma said. “And if we ever do get bored, there’s always demons.”
As if on cue, there was a great whoosh of wind and a thunderous clap from above. Emma reached for Cortana—then relaxed, as a flying black stallion with scarlet hooves shimmered into view. It descended to the earth, alongside a glowing ivory mare, whose platinum mane was woven with flowers.
Emma bounced with delight. “Diana!”
And Gwyn ap Nudd, Diana’s scary-ish boyfriend, the leader of the Wild Hunt.
Emma still didn’t know exactly how to feel about Gwyn.
She’d had a hard time setting aside her anger at him for the harshness he’d allowed Mark to experience in the Hunt, but he did seem to have changed.
He truly loved Diana—and he’d more than once saved Emma’s life, and Julian’s, and there was that time he’d helped rescue adorable little Mina from that crazed faerie nanny… but he was still absolutely terrifying.
Diana leapt gracefully to the ground. Emma threw her arms around her former tutor, as Gwyn descended from his own stallion. He bowed deeply.
“I thought you weren’t coming back until next weekend,” Emma said. “Is this your horse? Does she have a name?” She eyed the ivory mare, who eyed her back. “Did Scary Faerie Boyfriend give her to you?”
“She’s a loaner,” Diana said. “And I thought we agreed we weren’t calling Gwyn that. At least not to his face.”
“I aspire to be scary,” Gwyn said. “And I am the fey leader of the Wild Hunt. It seems accurate enough.”
Diana looked Emma up and down, her dark eyes widening. “Oh, by the Angel, is that blood?”
“Ketchup,” Emma said. “Long story. Which we can tell you if you’re here to hang out with us? Or maybe—” She eyed the stallions curiously. “You stopped by to invite us on an adventure?”
“Uh…I actually need to talk to you for a minute. In private?” Diana took Emma’s arm and drew her into the shadows of the empty parking lot.
Emma waited impatiently for her to spill.
If it was too private to say in front of Helen or Gwyn, it was unlikely to be in the category of potential apocalypses.
“Oh my god, Diana, are you having Relationship Drama?” Emma caught herself, realizing that had sounded impolitely eager.
“I mean, Gwyn is wild fey, you never know what they’re going to do, so has he fallen in love with a giant caterpillar or something?
Or a motorcycle? Motorcycles are cold iron, so that would definitely be a forbidden love. ”
Diana didn’t crack a smile, which Emma found slightly hurtful. In fact, Diana looked pretty grim.
Which was making Emma just a little nervous.
“I’m kidding,” Emma said. “Obviously Gwyn would never love anyone but you. You’re probably trying to figure out what to get him for his birthday, right? Maybe a new helmet? Something stylish that says ‘Wild, But Taken’?”
“Emma. Gwyn took me out dancing tonight at a club in West Hollywood—”
“Gwyn dances? At nightclubs?” Emma glanced over at the broad-shouldered, bearded faerie Hunter. He was watching them with a steely gaze from his mismatched eyes, one black and one pale blue. Then the blue eye winked.
“He is a faerie,” Diana pointed out. “Revels are in his blood.”
“Sure, but revels are…revels. I would have thought he’d find a mundane nightclub boring in comparison.” Emma frowned. “If he dances, and you dance, why haven’t we ever gone dancing together?”
“Forget about the dancing, Emma. This is serious.”
She could tell. And she could also tell that whatever Diana wanted to say probably fell into the category of Things You Wished You Could Unhear the Moment You Heard Them.
“Diana, I’m not sure—”
Diana interrupted. “While we were at the club, I saw Julian.”
“Dancing? That would be alarming.” Emma grinned, picturing Julian at a nightclub.
Julian was much more the kind of guy who would sit at a table sketching the crowd than the kind who’d bop around on the dance floor.
“But it couldn’t have been him, anyway,” she said.
“He went out to Pasadena to get art supplies from some warlock who used to sell paint to Picasso. He’ll be out there till dawn listening to this guy’s stories, trust me. ”
“Emma, it was him. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, okay—weird, but what did he say he was doing there?”
“I didn’t actually talk to him,” Diana said. A long pause. Then she spat it out. “He wasn’t alone, Emma. He was with a girl.”
Emma’s brain took a beat to process the syllables. A girl. Which had to mean something other than what it sounded like.
“What girl?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t see her face. Because they were dancing, and…he was kissing her.”
Diana met her gaze, unflinching. Their tutor had kept some secrets from them over the years. But she wasn’t a liar.
Unlike Julian, a tiny, treasonous voice in the back of Emma’s head pointed out. Julian has always been the best liar you ever knew.
No. Julian lied only when necessary. And only to protect the people he loved. And Emma was one of those people. She knew it.
“I’m sorry, Emma.” Diana exhaled. “Look, I wasn’t even sure if I should tell you. But it’s so wildly out of character for Julian, I figured either there was a rational explanation or something was really, really wrong with him. When you get home—”
“Home?” Emma shook her head. “No way. I’m not going home. We’re going to find Jules. Now.”
—
LA traffic was a hell dimension in its own right. Especially on a Saturday night and especially between the beach and West Hollywood. The freeways snaked over and under each other, each one an unmoving river of red brake lights.
Fortunately, Emma had friends in high places.
Or at least, friends who had a magic flying horse that could carry them to high places.
She’d left a dubious-looking Helen back in Venice and begged a ride to the nightclub with Diana.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been on a flying horse, and the sensation usually made her feel like a little kid, giddy with the joy of soaring.
Tonight, she was too anxious to enjoy it.