They were all in gear and heavily glamoured, save Matthew. He had thrown on a long coat to cover his Marks, but he insisted that they pay for their train tickets, regardless of the fact that James, Thomas, Anna, Cordelia, and Lucie were entirely invisible to the mundane eye. Luckily, the queue at the ticket office was a short one. Lucie rolled her eyes at him as he carefully fished out six threepenny bits from a pocket and handed them over. Their train was departing in just a few minutes, and as they followed Matthew to the platform, an engine heaved into place, disgorging smoke and steam. It was a small train, with just three carriages, and not many passengers in the middle of the day. They found themselves a conveniently empty third-class compartment and piled in.

They spread themselves over the brown plush seats—all except Anna, who remained standing. Matthew had slumped into a seat by the window. James eyed him; there was always love in the way he looked at Matthew, but it was mixed now with worry. “Did you move out of your parents’ house, Math?”

Matthew looked up, flushing slightly. “Leave it to you to guess, I suppose—or did someone tell you?”

“Your father rather hinted at it to Thomas,” said James. “And I know you’ve wanted to for ages.”

“Well, yes.” Matthew sighed. “I’ve been eyeing this mansion flat in Marylebone for quite a few months. I’d even put a deposit on it some time ago, but had been rather waffling on it. Yesterday afternoon I decided it was time.” He met James’s gaze with his own. “Independence! Hot and cold running servants and my own teakettle! I’ll have you all around to pendre la crémaillère when things are a bit more cheerful.”

“You should have told us,” said Thomas. “We would have helped you move your things. I’m exceptionally good at carrying large objects.”

“And think of all those hairbrushes you would have had to relocate,” Lucie said. “Haven’t you got six or seven?”

Matthew glowered at her affectionately. “I try to be at least as stylish as our local ghosts—”

The whistle blew loudly, drowning out the rest of his sentence. The carriage doors slammed and the train chuffed away from the station in a cloud of black smoke.

Thomas was looking thoughtful. “I wonder why that ghost approached Lucie, rather than one of the older Shadowhunters of the Enclave? Most Nephilim can see ghosts if the ghosts wish to be seen.”

Lucie shrugged. “Maybe because I was the last one into the Institute this morning.”

“It could be,” said James. “Or it could be that there are certainly many Enclave members who wouldn’t be all that keen on receiving information from a ghost.”