James fired off throwing knives: one, two, three times. Every time, a demon fell. He pressed a knife into Grace’s hand, his eyes entreating her—she backed up against the railing of the bridge, the blade gripped in her shaking hand. A demon reached for her and she stabbed out; it made an eerie howling sound as black-red ichor streamed from its shoulder. It hopped away from her, hissing, and lunged again. She ducked. James flung a knife and destroyed the thing, but he knew he was nearly out of blades. When they were gone, he would have only one weapon left: a seraph blade.

It would not be enough to protect himself and Grace. Nor could they run. The demons would easily catch them.

Two creatures dived for them. James hurled his last blade, dispatching one Cerberus demon in a rain of ichor. The other fell beside it, cloven in two by a dainty throwing axe.

James froze. He knew that axe.

Whirling, he saw Lucie running full tilt toward him from the road. And she was not alone.

Cordelia was there, Cortana gleaming in her hand. Matthew was beside her, armed with Indian chalikars: circular throwing knives edged with razor-sharp steel. Then came Christopher with two crackling seraph blades and Thomas, wielding his bolas. One flick of the ropes, and one twist of Thomas’s powerful arm, and a demon sailed clear off the bridge and into the river.

Alastair Carstairs was also with them. As James stared, he leaped onto the iron railing of the bridge, balancing just as James and Matthew had once done in practice. A long-bladed spear was in his hand. Two sweeps sliced one of the creatures in half. It exploded into nothingness, splattering Alastair with ichor, which struck James as a positive development on two fronts. Alastair leaped down from the railing with a disgusted noise, and charged into the fray.

As the Shadowhunters spread out around them, a cry rose from the demons—a thick, clogged sound. If a corpse rotting in the dirt had a sound, James thought, that was what it would have been. He sprang backward, swung around, and delivered a spinning kick to an oncoming demon. There was a blur of gold, and the demon vanished; James looked up to see Cordelia standing over him, Cortana in her hand. Its blade was smeared with demon blood.

There was no time to thank her. Another demon lunged; James seized his seraph blade. “Zerachiel!” he cried, and the blade became a wand of fire.