Belial laughed. “Don’t be so sure. Consider it, James. Despite the strength in your blood, the body you occupy is frail. Look what you are dying of now. Four small nail marks in your arm. So very little to end so much. You reside in a flimsy shell that can age, and die, and feel terrible pain. But if you joined with me, you would become immortal. Would you not want that for your sister? For yourself?”

“No,” said James. “It would not be worth it.”

“Ah, the foolish confidence of Nephilim.” Belial’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps it is time for me to remind you, boy, just how fragile you truly are.”

There was a silence. Jesse stood, not breathing hard—not breathing at all—the sword in his hand. He looked from Grace to where Lucie crouched, still on the ground. He inclined his head toward Lucie, then, in the smallest of nods.

She turned to Grace.

“Yes,” Lucie said. “I can see Jesse.”

Grace’s hand flew to her mouth. “But how?” she whispered. “James is a Herondale too but can’t see him—James could never see him—”

“Lucie is unusual,” said Jesse. “She seems to be able to see more than ordinary ghosts.”

He propped the sword against the side of the shed and went over to his sister. “Grace,” he said, gently putting his arms around her. Grace laid her head against his shoulder. “That demon. Was that Grandfather’s work, still lingering about?”

Grace drew back slightly. “No,” she said, “It was—” She shook her head. “It isn’t safe. We can’t speak in front of her, not about anything. She’s the daughter of Will Herondale, Jesse; she’s practically the Consul’s niece—”

Lucie rose silently, brushing grass from her clothes. She felt very awkward. She thought of the demon, its hissing whisper: the oaths your mother swore to those far more powerful than she. The demon had been Tatiana’s doing, she knew, and she suspected from the look on his face that Jesse guessed it too.

“I know Lucie,” Jesse said, looking at Lucie over the top of Grace’s blond head. “I trust her. Just as you trust James.”

Grace drew back and frowned. “I’ve never told him about you—”

“Lucie!” A voice called her name; she looked up to see Thomas racing toward her. He cleared the low hedge easily and approached, looking puzzled but ready for a fight, bolas in his hand.

Grace stepped back hastily from Jesse, wiping at her face. She turned to glare at Thomas. “Why have you invaded my home?” she demanded. “What is going on here?”

“We didn’t think you’d be home,” Thomas said.

“Not helpful,” said Lucie. “Tell her about the antidote, Thomas.”

“Ah,” said Thomas, looking nervously at Grace. “Christopher and I have been trying to work out an antidote for the demonic poison.”