“You think she didn’t even guess at it when they put the rune on Jesse and he died?” Grace demanded. “She destroyed him. Her mistrust killed him. And she never took an ounce of the blame, never spoke a word of regret, only said it was the fault of the Nephilim. But it was her fault. Hers.”

“You have to let me go,” Lucie said. “I have to go after Jesse—stop him—”

“Stop him how?” Grace demanded. “I won’t let you go if you might hurt him—he’ll come back tonight, he has to come back—”

“And let someone else die? Grace, we can’t do that.”

It had been the wrong tactic to take. Grace’s lips tightened. “I haven’t even said I believe you. Just because there was blood in the shed—”

Lucie leaned forward. “Grace. Each Shadowhunter who has been killed is missing a rune, wiped away as if it were never drawn. Elias Carstairs lost his Voyance rune. Filomena di Angelo lost Strength; Lilian Highsmith, Precision. Swiftness, Angelic Power—these are the same runes that have appeared on Jesse. I know it seems impossible—”

Grace had gone a sickly gray color. “To move a rune from one Shadowhunter to another? No—not impossible,” she said. “But why?”

“I don’t know,” Lucie admitted. “But everyone is looking for the killer, Grace. There are day patrols, dozens of Shadowhunters on the streets, all searching. They could find Jesse. The first thing they would do is destroy his body. I almost did it myself—”

“There are things you can do,” Grace said, her pupils very wide. “You can see Jesse, but it’s more than that. You can converse with the dead. Sense them, even. What is it, Lucie? What is your power?”

Something in Lucie rebelled. She could not tell her secret to Grace, not before she told Cordelia, before she told James and her parents. It was bad enough that she had told Malcolm. She already owed Cordelia so much more of the truth. “I cannot say. You will just have to trust me.”

“I cannot trust you. I cannot trust anyone.”

“You trust Jesse,” said Lucie. “You know Jesse. Better than anyone, Grace. He’s talked about you—he worries about you—he says you understand him. That without you, he would have gone mad alone in the house with Tatiana.”

Tears welled up in Grace’s eyes. Her gaze was fixed on Lucie. “I can’t let you hurt him,” she whispered.

“He is being hurt now,” said Lucie. “He is being imprisoned. Controlled. Forced to do what he would never do if he had a choice. Grace, please. Imagine if Jesse knew.”