“Will looked at his sister. “And you don’t care about being a Shadowhunter. How is this: I shall write a letter and give it to you if you promise to deliver it home yourself — and not to return.”Cecily recoiled; she had many memories of shouting matches with Will, of the china dolls she had owned that he had broken by dropping them out an attic window; but there was also kindness in her memories: the brother who had bandaged up a cut knee, or retied her hair ribbons when they came loose. That kindness was absent from the Will who stood before her now. Her mother had used to cry for the first year or two after Will went; she had said, in Welsh, holding Cecily to her, that they — the Shadowhunters — would “take all the love out of him.” A cold, unloving people, she had told Cecily, who had forbidden her marriage to her husband. What could he want with them, her Will, her little one?“I will not go,” Cecily said, staring her brother down. “And if you insist that I must, I will — I will —”The door of the attic slid open and Jem stood silhouetted in the doorway…”

“With tears running down her face, Cecily had reminded him of the moment at her wedding to Gabriel when he had delivered a beautiful speech praising the groom, at the end of which he had announced, “Dear God, I thought she was marrying Gideon. I take it all back.”

“What are you doing following me around the back streets of London, you little idiot?” Will demanded, giving her arm a light shake.Cecily’s eyes narrowed. “This morning it was cariad (note: Welsh endearment, like ‘darling’ or ‘love’), now it’s idiot.”“Oh, you’re using a Glamour rune. There’s one thing to declare, you are not afraid of anything when you live in the country. But this is London.”“I’m not afraid of London,” Cecily said defiantly.Will leaned closer, almost hissing in her ear *and said something very complicated in Welsh*She laughed. “No, it wouldn’t do you any good to tell me to go home. You are my brother, and I want to go with you.”Will blinked at her words.You are my brother, and I want to go with you.It was the sort of thing he was used to hearing Jem say.Although Cecily was unlike Jem in every other conceivable possible way, she did share one quality with him. Stubbornness. When Cecily said she wanted something, it did not express an idle desire, but an iron determination.“Do you even care where I’m going?” he said. “What if I were going to hell?”“I’ve always wanted to see hell,” Cecily said. “Doesn’t everyone?”“Most of us spend our time trying to stay out of it, Cecily. I’m going to an ifrit den, if you must know, to purchase drugs from vile, dissolute criminals. They may clap eyes on you, and decide to sell you.”“Wouldn’t you stop them?”“I suppose it would depend on whether they cut me a part of the profit.”She shook her head. “Jem is your parabatai,” she said. “He is your brother, given to you by the Clave, but I am your sister by blood. Why would you do anything for him, but you only want me to go home?”“How do you know the drugs are for Jem?” Will said.“I’m not an idiot, Will.”“No, more’s the pity. Jem- Jem is like the better part of me. I would not expect you to understand. I owe him. I owe him this.”“So what am I?” Cecily said.Will exhaled, too desperate to check himself. “You are my weakness.”“And Tessa is your heart,” she said, not angrily, but thoughtfully. “I am not fooled. As I told you, I’m not an idiot. And more’s the pity for you, although I suppose we all want things we can’t have.”“Oh,” said Will, “and what do you want?”“I want you to come home.” A strand of black hair was stuck to her cheek by the dampness, and Will fought the urge to pull her cloak closer about her, to make her safe as he had when she was a child.“The Institute is my home,” Will sighed, and leaned his head against the stone wall. “I can’t stand out her arguing with you all evening, Cecily. If you’re determined to follow me into hell, I can’t stop you.”“Finally,” she said provingly. “You’ve seen sense. I knew you would, you’re related to me.”Will fought the urge to shake her.“Are you ready?”She nodded, and he raised his hand to knock on the door.”

“Jem, Cecily thought, with a pang in her heart. Her brother had always looked to him as a kind of North Star, a compass that would ever point him toward the right decision. She had never quite thought of her brother as lucky before, and certainly would not have expected to do so today, and yet-and yet in a way he had been. To always have someone to turn to like that, and not to worry constantly that one was looking to the wrong stars.”

“It would take little effort for her to hurt him right now. She could hurt him badly.But Griffin King could hurt her, as well, and he hadn’t. Instead of using force or violence against her, he used patience and understanding. She had no defense against that.When he let her go, she was shaking. Tears filled her eyes as she turned to her mother who stood staring at her in horror.“My sweet little girl,” her mother whispered. “I didn’t know. I would never…” Her words faded into a choked sob. Finley crossed the short distance between them on quivering legs and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman. She didn’t care if Griffin or his nasty aunt saw her tears. If anything was worth crying over, the discovery that her father had made her a monster had to be one.”

“You had every right to be. He raised his eyes to look at her and she was suddenly and strangely reminded of being four years old at the beach, crying when the wind came up and blew away the castle she had made. Her mother had told her she could make another one if she liked, but it hadn't stopped her crying because what she had thought was permanent was not permanent after all, but only made out of sand that vanished at the touch of wind and water.”