Chapter 12
The supernals have their own hierarchies of power, and at the top of the Haematophage pyramid are the Vayne and Damascus houses. Bonded through blood and marriage for centuries, these two houses are rooted in ancient traditions that are beyond human comprehension.
A STUDY OF THE OTHERS
Wall sconces bathed the Main Building in warm light, and this time I was able to take in more of the details as we made our way to the dining hall.
Ornate molded ceilings loomed above, so high they were shrouded in shadows, so it was difficult to make out the intricate swirls and circles etched across their surface, but when I squinted and focused, they looked like painted cogs.
Thick beams crisscrossed above, providing a framework with which to hold up the impressive roof.
Tapestries and mirrors of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, ensuring there was always a looking glass to peer into.
My step faltered as we passed a wall decorated with portraits of men and women set in gilded frames.
“This is the gallery,” Clary explained. “Every influential member of the Superna Coterie from the last few centuries is here.”
I spotted Vitra’s portrait right away. He gazed off into the distance with a slight smile that practically said, admire me if you want. I get it. I’m fucking hot.
Portia and Heidi were a row below him, looking stern and forbidding. But further up were faces I didn’t recognize. Then there was a gap marked by an oval of lighter colored paint. “There’s a painting missing.”
“Where?” Dori asked.
“Up there.” I pointed to a blank space several feet up.
“I noticed that when we got here a few years ago,” Clary said. “I asked around, and I found out that spot used to belong to Dharma Onyx.”
What the fuck? Dharma had been part of the Coterie? She’d been one of the few in charge here, so this place had obviously been important to her. Why would she have risked it all to commit a heinous crime? It made no sense to me.
“Come on,” Dori said. “Benedict will be holding our table, and I’m not sure he’ll have the willpower to stave off the silvers without us.”
They ushered me through a vaulted arch and down another passage that split into two. One route was brightly lit, the other was shrouded in shadows, but I could make out a door at the end.
The group veered toward the lit corridor, but I found myself gravitating to the shadows.
“Ana, this way,” Clary said.
I took another step toward the gloomy passage. “What’s down there?”
She huffed slightly. “It’s restricted.”
“Why?”
“Something to do with structural stability. They’ve been meaning to work on the wing for ages.”
“Come on,” Dori said. “We need to get to Benedict.”
They hurried off, and with a final glance at the dark passage, I followed.
A couple more turns led us to a huge room dotted with plush booths occupied by students.
One side of the room was all windows, offering a grand view of the epic ocean, so from this vantage point, it looked like we were riding the waves.
A sense of calm fell over me, but the next moment, the hum of conversation and the aroma of various dishes hit me.
My stomach tightened with nerves as memories I’d strived to bury surged up, pricking at my conscious mind.
What are you eating, Onyx? The dried-up hearts of long-dead Blackthornes?
Don’t touch her. You might catch something.
Then there were the shoves and the tripping, and the lonely corner table where I’d eaten lunch every day.
I could have skipped it. Saved myself the grief, but no.
I’d gone. Every fucking day. I’d gone, and I’d endured.
And thank Trinity I had, because it had built my armor, showing me that the old adage was true: sticks and stones, baby. Sticks and fucking stones.
But this dining hall was nothing like the ones I’d frequented.
It was grand and opulent, with a checked tile floor of cream and silver.
Chandeliers hung from wide beams above us, and beyond that, hidden in the gloom, was another domed ceiling painted with golden cogs and silver swirls.
Mirrors on the far wall created an illusion of space, and for a moment, it looked like shadows moved within.
But on closer inspection, all I saw was a mirror image of this room—and my face staring back at me.
The face of a grown woman, not the young girl from six years ago.
My anxiety melted away. I was no longer afraid or ashamed.
“Oh shit,” Dori said. “The silvers have Benedict.” She set off quickly toward a booth in the far-right corner of the vast room, where Benedict sat with three women with long silver hair.
Clary and I hurried to catch up.
“Dori.” Benedict grinned up at her, a goofy smile on his face.
“Have you met my friends?” He indicated the three women squished onto the bench opposite him, identical except for eye color.
“They want to take me for a schwim… Schwim… Swim!” He beamed at us when he finally nailed the word.
The women nodded in unison, and he sighed. “Of course I would.”
“Piss off, you three,” Dori snapped at the women. “How many times, eh? He’s not interested.”
The middle one with violet eyes glared at Dori.
“Yeah? You can glower at me all you want, fish-breath, but you can’t get in my head. So go on, fuck off, before I call Master Trax.”
The trio hissed in unison, baring a mass of needle-long teeth that transformed their beautiful faces into something hideous and terrifying.
Across from them, Benedict jolted back in his seat. “Argh!”
“Go on, get!” Dori shooed at them.
The silvers slipped from the bench and glided out of the room, the hems of their long dresses sweeping the floor behind them.
Benedict ran a hand down his face and shuddered. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry,” Clary replied. “Anamaya met Tamina.” She took the space beside him, and Dori and I sat opposite on the bench vacated by the silvers.
Benedict grimaced. “You saw Ruspin, huh?”
I nodded. “I did. But first, who were they?”
“The silvers?” Benedict shuddered again. “They want my body. Literally.” He made a chomping motion with his mouth.
“What the fuck?”
“They’re sirens,” Dori said. “You know your sea folklore.”
“Not really.” Sea lore wasn’t something Mother had thought I needed to learn growing up.
“Clary, you do the honors,” Dori said. “I’m gonna order our meals. What do you guys want?”
“I’ll have a pot roast,” Benedict said.
“Lamb shank for me,” Clary replied.
Everyone looked at me. “Um…what are the options?”
“Whatever you want,” Clary said.
“Whatever I want?”
“Yep. You order it, and it’ll be created.”
“You want last night’s spaghetti? You got it,” Dori said. “You want the meal you had on your sixteenth birthday? The kitchen will whip it up.”
“How is that possible?”
Dori shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“So what will it be?” Clary asked.
There was one thing I wanted to eat really bad, something I’d thought I’d never get to taste again. If what they said was true, then… “My mother’s belly-warming hot pot.”
Their eyes softened at my request, and I wanted to kick myself. I might as well have rolled over and shown them my belly. It was suddenly a little harder to breathe. “You know what, forget it. I—”
“Too late.” Dori strode off.
“Wait!” Clary called after her. “I changed my mind. I want to try Ana’s mother’s belly-warming hot pot too.”
“Make that three,” Benedict added.
Dori dropped us a jaunty salute. “Four Onyx hot pots coming up.”
The tightness in my lungs eased, replaced by that strange bubble of emotion again. But I ducked my head, breathing through it. “So…the silvers and sea folklore?”
“Oh yes,” Clary said, eyes lighting up. “There is a ton of it—about the alliance between land and sea after The Overshadowing, and—”
“She hasn’t taken Selethis’s class yet, so she probably only knows what the outsiders do,” Benedict reminded her.
“Look, all you need to know is that sirens can get into a human’s head, and they have a taste for male flesh.
The Land-Sea Pact prevents them from attacking pure humans, but”—he jerked a thumb at his chest— “I’m part human on my mother’s side.
I was raised by my father after she abandoned me.
” He spoke of abandonment as if it didn’t bother him.
Maybe it didn’t. Maybe he’d never known her. I wasn’t about to pry.
“Which is why they keep trying to lure him into the sea,” Clary said. “He’s the only human male at Nightsbridge they can snack on.”
“Part human,” Benedict corrected.
“Ugh, Evergreen Coven just strolled in,” Clary said.
“I spot a few Silverthorn and Embercrest too,” Benedict said. “I’m so glad my lot eats much later.”
The incantors occupied the area closest to the windows.
They all sported the green and brown Nightsbridge uniforms, but some also wore scarves of different colors: metallic gray, orange, or lime green.
Their coven colors, no doubt, but being from different covens shouldn’t stop them from mingling—covens often worked together.
Sorcerers, however, kept to themselves, as evidenced by their two-booth separation from the incantors.
Their scarves were royal blue. The Reign colors.
They ate together, but whereas the incantors chatted amiably with one another, the sorcerers ate in silence.
No Arcanus glanced our way, which was good. Being invisible here, as much as possible, would be a bonus.
If I kept my head down, I could claim my power, find the book, and—
“Oh great,” Benedict muttered. “She just had to bring him in here, didn’t she?”
“Right by the Therianthrope booths, too,” Clary added.
I followed the direction of their gaze to where Tamina was settling into a booth in the center of the room with three other Haematophages. Beyond them were the booths occupied by large males, who, from all the obvious muscle, had to be Therianthropes.
They either turned their backs on the Haematophage or looked away.
“What’s happening?”