Though, he realized, Cordelia did. It had not even seemed strange to tell her.

Thomas was frowning. “My aunt Tatiana is mad. My father has often said so, that his sister was driven to madness by what happened to her father and her husband. She blames our parents for their deaths.”

“But James has never done anything to her,” said Christopher, his eyebrows knitting together.

“He’s a Herondale,” said Thomas. “That’s enough.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Christopher said. “It is as if one was bitten by a duck and years later one shot a completely different duck and ate it for dinner, and called that revenge.”

“Please do not use metaphors, Christopher,” said Matthew. “It gives me the pip.”

“This is bad enough without mentioning ducks,” said James. He had never fancied ducks since one had bitten him in Hyde Park as a small child. “I’m sorry, Thomas. I feel as if I have failed in helping Barbara.”

“No,” Thomas said quickly. “We have only just started. I was thinking—perhaps you and I and Matthew should go to the Devil Tavern and look through the book collection. There are volumes there that the Clave will never find combing through the Institute’s library. We could see if there is any mention of these daylight demon creatures.”

“What about Christopher?” said Matthew.

Christopher held up a vial filled with a red substance. “I managed to acquire some blood that the Silent Brothers had taken from one of the patients last night,” he said proudly. “I intend to mix modern science and Shadowhunter magic to attempt to create an antidote for the demon poison. Henry has said I can use his laboratory while he is in Idris.”

Thomas squinted. “That had better not be my sister’s blood.”

“It’s Piers’s,” said Christopher, “though for the sake of pure science, it should not matter.”

“And yet we are all relieved,” said James. “Matthew and I can go to Fleet Street—perhaps Thomas should help Christopher in the lab?”

Thomas sighed. “I always end up helping Christopher in the lab.”

“It is because you are remarkably good at dodging explosions,” said James, “and also, you can curse in Spanish.”

“How does that help?” said Thomas.

“It doesn’t,” said James, “but Christopher likes it. Now—”

“James!” It was Henry, calling from the house.

James sprinted away. Oscar had fallen asleep in the grass, his paws sticking up into the air.

There was a short silence. Matthew took his book from the tree and brushed off the cover.

“Grace,” Thomas said finally. “What is she like? I don’t think we’ve exchanged two words.”

“Very shy,” said Matthew. “Very quiet, looks painfully frightened a great deal of the time, yet always admired at social events.”

“That’s odd,” said Thomas.

“Not really,” said Christopher. “Men like the idea of a woman they can rescue.”

Both Matthew and Thomas looked at him in amazement. He shrugged.