A small crowd had gathered at the base of the front steps. Among the group, Cordelia recognized many of the older Shadowhunters—the Inquisitor and Charlotte, Cecily Lightwood—along with Lucie, Anna, and Matthew. (Cordelia was glad to see he’d turned up, though Oscar did not seem to be with him.) All of them looked shocked, their expressions grave.

As their driver pulled the carriage to a stop in the courtyard, the crowd parted and Cordelia saw a pale bundle lying at the foot of the steps. Thomas threw the carriage doors open and she realized: no, not a bundle. A body, covered in a white sheet. The sheet was stained red with dried blood. From one corner of the sheet, a hand protruded, as if reaching out for help.

At the edge of the sheet was a spill of dark hair.

Thomas leaped down to the ground. He looked frantic. James followed; as he stepped off the running board, Lucie bolted over. Anna, wearing a caped greatcoat and a grave expression, followed more slowly with Matthew. Cordelia found herself wondering where Christopher was, especially since he was currently residing at the Institute. Perhaps inside, with his father?

Lucie threw her arms around James. “I should have waited for her,” she sobbed, her small body shaking. “It’s my fault, Jamie.”

James held his sister tightly. “Who was it?” he demanded. “Who’s dead?”

“Please,” Thomas said, looking sick. “Just tell me—”

“Filomena di Angelo,” said Anna. “Stabbed to death, just as Basil Pounceby was. The Silent Brothers are on their way to bring her to the Ossuarium.”

“I thought—” Thomas began, and broke off. Shock, relief, and guilt at that relief played across his face. Cordelia could not blame him—she too was glad it was not Thomas’s sister. And yet Filomena had been so young, so lively—so excited to be on her travel year, so in love with art and culture.

“Were you worried about Eugenia?” Anna said, laying a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “Poor darling. No, Eugenia is still quite peacefully asleep on my sofa. She may have been sick in a plant pot last night, but she is perfectly well.”

“My parents,” Thomas began. “Do they know—?”

“My mother sent a runner to them with a message,” said Matthew. “They ought to be on their way.”

“When did Filomena leave the party?” Cordelia asked. “Did she depart with anyone?”

“She was at my flat until almost dawn,” Anna said. “She left then—insisted on going home alone.” She scowled. “I should have gone with her. Someone should have gone with her.”

“So close to sunrise,” James said thoughtfully. “So this must have happened sometime in the last few hours.”

“Anna, this isn’t your fault,” Cordelia said. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I ought to have waited and made sure to take her home—” Lucie began.