“What is the meaning of this? Why are we being imprisoned in London?” Martin Wentworth was shouting. He had risen to his feet. “Now is the time we need the Clave’s assistance—”

“It’s a quarantine, Martin,” said Will, in his steady voice. “Let the Inquisitor explain.”

But it was Charles who spoke. “All of you,” he said loudly. “You know that my—that Barbara Lightwood was stricken down by a demon attack. Poison flooded her system. She could not withstand it and died a few days ago.”

Thomas winced, and Martin Wentworth’s face turned from red to white as he clearly thought of his son, Piers.

Charles went on. “Oliver Hayward was with her when she died. In the last throes of her agony, not recognizing her friends and loved ones, she attacked him, scratching and hitting him.”

Lucie remembered the blood on Oliver’s hands, his cuffs. The library was silent. She could not bear to look at Thomas.

“As you may also know,” Charles went on, “the Hayward family runs the York Institute, and Oliver understandably wished to return home after losing his beloved.”

“As any upstanding young man might well do,” muttered Bridgestock.

Charles ignored this. “We received the news yesterday that Oliver had fallen ill. His scratches festered and he was overcome by the same symptoms that have claimed those here in London who have been attacked by these demons.” He paused. “Oliver died this morning.”

There was an audible gasp. Lucie felt sick.

Laurence Ashdown bolted to his feet. “But Hayward wasn’t attacked by a demon! Nor is the poison of demons contagious!”

“The poison causes an ailment,” said Will calmly. “It has been determined by the Silent Brothers that this ailment can be transmitted by bite or scratch. While it is not highly contagious, it is contagious nonetheless. Hence the quarantine.”

“Is that why all the sick were moved to the Silent City and are not being allowed visitors? Is that what’s going on?” demanded Wentworth.

Lucie was again startled: she had not known the sick were not to be visited. Thomas, noting her distress, whispered, “The injunction against visitors was handed down only this morning. Christopher and I heard Uncle Gabriel discussing it.”

“The Silent City is the right place for them to be,” said Charles. “The Brothers can take the best care of the afflicted, and no demon can enter the place.”

“So what is the Clave’s plan?” Ida Rosewain’s voice rose. “Is their intention to trap us in London—with demons carrying a poison disease we don’t know how to treat—so we all simply die?”

Even Bridgestock looked taken aback. It was Will who spoke.

“We are Shadowhunters,” he said. “We do not wait to be saved by others. We save ourselves. We here in London are as equipped as any member of the Clave to solve this problem, and it will be solved.”