“Indeed.” The ghost seemed to be warming to his subject. “Tatiana Blackthorn didn’t trust the Silent Brothers and Iron Sisters to do the work, of course. Didn’t trust nearly anybody and least of all Shadowhunters. She hired me to work the spells instead.”

“But when the Voyance rune was put on Jesse, he died,” said Lucie. “Would that have something to do with the protection spells?”

Gast spit in disgust—a spark of white translucence that vanished before it struck the floor. “I am not the one who put the first rune on the boy. Your precious Silent Brothers did that. I did the protection spells by the book. The council may have scorned me when I was alive, but I was a perfectly capable warlock.”

“So you did the protection spells just as a Silent Brother would have done them?” Lucie said. “You can swear to that?”

Gast stared directly at Lucie as a look of panic stole across his face. Abruptly he turned away from her, his hands clawing at the air as if he were trying to drag himself back into the darkness he’d come from.

“Stop it,” Lucie said, and he stopped immediately. He hung in midair, glaring.

Jessamine whispered something; Lucie couldn’t quite tell what, but she couldn’t worry about Jessamine now.

“Tell me the truth,” Lucie said.

Gast’s face twisted. “No. There are worse things than death, little Shadowhunter, and more to fear on the other side than you might imagine. Do you think you are the only one who can control the dead? Where do you think that power comes from?”

“Enough!” Lucie snapped her fingers. “I command you to tell me.”

“Lucie, stop!” Jessamine fluttered her hands in terror. “You mustn’t!”

Gast’s head snapped back with a sound like a stick breaking. He twisted, pushing back at her, scrabbling like a trapped rabbit. For a moment, Lucie pitied him.

Then she thought of Jesse, dying in agony when the rune was placed on him. Tangled in blood-covered sheets. Screaming for help when no help could be had.

A cold sweat broke out on Lucie’s forehead. She bent her will on Gast, the force of her power and her anger.

Tell me. Tell me the truth.

“The anchor!” Gast cried, the words torn from his throat. “By God, the anchor, sunk in his soul! I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice!” His voice rose to a howl. “Dear God let me go he’ll tear me to pieces—”

Jessamine screamed, just as Gast’s translucent body ripped down the middle like a piece of paper. Lucie stumbled back as the ghost came apart, splitting into tattered pieces that sank to the floor and dissolved, leaving faint black stains behind.

Lucie sagged against the bedpost. Exhaustion freighted her limbs, as if she’d run a marathon. “Jessamine,” she whispered. “Jessamine, are you all right?”