“Daisy!” James darted forward as Cordelia wrenched the sword back; Belial was still howling. Blood spilled from the wound, the color of dark rubies, a shimmering red-black. James seized hold of Cordelia, who was gasping and shaking; her eyes were fixed on Belial.

“Fools,” Belial hissed. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

He raised a hand as if he meant to strike one of them, but it crumbled away like sand. Belial gaped as his body shuddered into pieces, like a child’s puzzle tossed haphazardly in the air. He opened his mouth as if to roar or scream, but his face caved in before he could make a sound—he crumbled, dissolving against the air as James stared in horror.

Cordelia cried out. The ground heaved under them. The sky began to crack, red-black light pouring from the fissures like the blood from Belial’s wound. The realm was crumbling around them. James pulled Cordelia toward him as the bottom fell out of the world.

It was not like traveling by Portal, Lucie thought, a whirlwind of sound and sight. The path the dead traveled was utterly silent and utterly dark. She could neither see nor hear anything at all. If it were not for Jesse’s arms around her, the solid feel of his body, she might have thought she had lost the living world forever—that she had died, or been spun away into a terrible featureless void.

The feeling of relief when the world opened back up again was immense. Solid ground struck her feet; she stumbled, and was steadied by the arms around her. She blinked the dizziness out of her eyes and looked around.

She saw Jesse first. He held her close, but the expression in his green eyes was absolutely furious.

“God damn you, Lucie Herondale,” he said, and turned her loose.

“Jesse—” she began, and realized she had no idea where she was. She looked around wildly. They were in a clearing in the middle of Highgate Cemetery, under a canopy of cedar trees. It was dark, the gaps between the leaves overhead letting in little starlight.

Lucie took a witchlight out of her pocket with shaking hands. Light blazed up: now she could see tombs standing around them in a ring. The earth here was torn, churned up as if there had been a recent fight. Lying in the grass some distance away was a crumpled figure.

Lucie gasped. “Matthew!”

She tore across the clearing and threw herself down next to James’s parabatai. In the glow of the witchlight, she could see the bruises on his face. His jacket and shirt were ripped and spattered with blood. She fumbled her stele out of her belt, reaching for his hand.

His parabatai rune stood out stark and black on the inside of his wrist. Lucie bit back tears.