“Jamie,” Lucie said. “When the Khora demons were attacking, before they even claimed a victim, you had a vision of what was coming. Is it possible perhaps you have the ability to somehow see when bad things are going to happen to Shadowhunters?”

“Not before they happen, unfortunately,” said James. “I had only just woken up from the nightmare perhaps a half an hour before Matthew arrived to tell us that Pounceby was dead and the whole Clave knew.”

“And that was already ten o’clock in the morning,” said Matthew. “Could you tell what time it was in your dream?”

James shook his head. “Around dawn, I think.”

“So not much of an early warning,” said Thomas. “And no way to know if it’ll happen again.”

“We ought to tell someone,” said Christopher. “Not just sit here coming up with theories. Though I do love coming up with theories.” He looked wistful.

“Our parents—” Lucie began.

“No,” James said. “We are absolutely not dragging our parents back from Paris for this. They only just left. I’ll try again to get a message to Jem.”

Matthew frowned. “My mother said something about him—whatever he and Magnus are doing in the Spiral Labyrinth, it seems to be important. I get the sense they’re both cloistered there; she said there was no reaching Magnus, for now.”

“If we were to say to the Enclave—” Thomas began.

“We cannot,” Matthew said. “They already think that the two deaths are connected. There’s nothing new we could tell them except that James has been having these dreams, and for them to think the dreams had any relevance or meaning…”

“We’d have to tell them about Belial,” said Cordelia.

“And that would potentially be disastrous,” said Matthew. “For Jamie, for Lucie, for Will and Tessa—for all the reasons we decided not to tell them in the first place.”

Thomas had sat down on the edge of the sofa. He laid a hand on James’s shoulder. “Of course. We weren’t suggesting we tell them any of that.”

“I would be prepared to tell them about Belial if it affected only me,” said James, “but it would put my mother and Lucie under the Clave’s microscope too.” He turned to Thomas. “Now. Tom, no one’s saying you can’t patrol. Just not by yourself. I’ll go with you.”

“I wish you could,” said Thomas. “But they’re setting a curfew for everyone under eighteen. None of you will be allowed to patrol at all, and if I can’t patrol with you, I’d rather be on my own. Last time they paired me with Augustus Pounceby. It was torture.”

“Speaking of Pouncebys,” said Lucie. “What could Amos Gladstone and Basil Pounceby have had in common, besides both being out on patrol?”