40Clary sat curled up on a corner of Jace's bed, absentmindedly sketching his profile as he lay stretched out, leafing through a piece of music that he'd found in the piano stool.
There was a sharp tap at the door. "Jace? Clary? Are you awake?"
Jace yawned. "Kind of. Neither of us felt much like sleeping when we got back from the club last night, so we were up a long time . . ."
"Stop right there. No more information," said Alec, sounding slightly alarmed. "Can you get dressed and come down to the library. I want to have a planning meeting."
"We were up a long time drinking cocoa," finished Jace, unruffled. "But sure, let me have a shower, and we'll be there."
/
Ten minutes later, Clary pushed open the heavy oak door into the library, to find Alec, Magnus and Izzy already there. Izzy was sitting at the central table, mug of coffee in front of her, leafing sleepily through a newspaper.
Magnus, typically, showed no signs of a late night or lack of sleep. He sat perched on a windowsill at the side of the room, feet up on a side table, carefully spiking up his hair with a pot of pink gel. He was watching Alec intently, though, Clary noticed.
"Is there coffee?" asked Jace, optimistically, looking at Izzy.
"No," said Alec. "Just sit down, okay. Gwen's on her way with Tom."
He sounded tense, Clary thought. She wondered why he'd invited Tom to his meeting; of all of them, Alec had always been the most suspicious of the English boy.
Before she had a chance to take the thought any further, Gwen came in, Tom following. Alec went over to the door behind them, and pushed it shut, turning the heavy key in the lock, and going back to the table.
"After last night, I thought it was about time to find out where we all stand," said Alec, a faint emphasis on the 'all'. "And who we all are." Now he was looking at Tom, who was facing him across the table, Gwen beside him.
"He's not . . ." started Gwen, "He saved . . .", but Tom cut her off.
"What do you mean, who we are," he said, leaning forwards on the table, looking directly at Alec.
For once, Clary thought, Alec seemed totally in command of the situation, his focus all on Tom, with no looks at Magnus or Jace for approval.
"In our world," said Alec, looking back at Tom, "blood counts."
Tom laughed shortly. "Blood always counts, posh boy. Though in my world, it's usually the colour of your skin that counts first."
Clary noticed his accent as he spoke, very English, but very not like the English actors in the heritage dramas she'd used to watch with her mom."
"That's not what I meant," said Alec, his gaze unmoving. "I want to know what you are, and why the Institute let you in, the day Sebastian attacked. I asked Gwen to bring you here, so we could find out, once and for all." He gestured at a book and a silver bowl containing a white powder, standing on the table in front of him. "Will you let me?" he asked.
"What is this?" said Tom, looking at the others, and sounding unnerved for the first time. "Some kind of truth drug? Because I'd like to know just as much as any of you what the hell is going on, but I don't see how that's going to help."
"No, not a truth drug," said Alec. "Magic. A way of . . . seeing things. I swear on the Angel it won't harm you. Will you trust me? We've let you in, trusted you."
"'Trusted' might be a bit strong," said Tom. "'Haven't knifed me yet' might be a better way of putting it. But like I said, I've as much an interest as any of you in finding out what's happening, and I guess if you wanted to hurt me, you've plenty of easier ways than poisoning me."
He held out his hand, as if to take the bowl, but Alec shook his head.
"Just stand still and shut your eyes."
Tom looked at him for a moment, and then nodded - more to himself than to Alec, Clary thought - put his hands on the table, and shut his eyes.
Alec looked down at the book, as if to remind himself of something, then took up the silver bowl in his left hand. He spoke some words in Latin, then leant forwards, and took a handful of the powder, with a quick deft movement casting it across the table and upwards towards Tom.
Clary was suddenly and uncomfortably reminded of the way that Sebastian had gestured with his hand when he had performed magic. She wondered for a moment if any of the others felt the same disquiet, but was distracted from the thought by the strange behaviour of the powder that Alec had thrown.
Instead of drifting downwards and settling, it seemed to be consolidating, fusing together. The mass paused for a moment, then moved, almost purposefully, towards Tom's shoulder. It settled on his jacket, then started to flex and reform. The room was silent, everyone watching, as a bright silver star formed on Tom's shoulder, blazed up in a shining light for a moment, then died.
No-one spoke for a moment. Alec looked bewildered, Clary thought, glancing down at his book again, then back at the spot on Tom's shoulder where the star had formed. She looked over at Magnus, and was relieved to see a bubble of amusement spreading across his face.
Tom opened his eyes. "So," he asked, bluntly. "Did you get the answers that you wanted?"
"We got some sort of an answer," said Jace, after a moment. "I hope Alec knows what the hell it means, because I certainly don't."
"A silver star on your shoulder," said Alec. "I'm not sure that's an answer."
"But of course it is," said Magnus, the amusement plain in his voice now. "Black hair and blue eyes, very good looking – Gwen's noticed, even if the rest of you haven't - and an inclination to throw himself into any fight, even when he's safely packed off upstairs."
He paused, glancing round at them all. "Oh, for goodness sake. Who else in this Institute has a mark shaped like a silver star on their shoulder?"
"Jace," said Clary, slowly. "The Herondale birthmark."
A/N: Apologies for the excruciatingly slow progress on this story, we are very nearly there, I promise!