Lucie glanced over anxiously at the other end of the courtyard, but if James had noticed Grace at all, he gave no sign—he was greeting several Shadowhunters who had emerged from the Institute. Lucie recognized Charlotte, who had made a distressed beeline for her sons.

Grace moved out of the shadows toward Malcolm and Lucie, then recoiled as she caught sight of the bundle in Malcolm’s arms. “What happened? Is he—is that Jesse?”

Lucie put a finger to her lips and ushered her companions into the Sanctuary. Inside, there were still signs of Thomas and Alastair’s imprisonment—a chair turned over, a messy pile of blankets, the remnants of food. Malcolm carried Jesse to a long mahogany table and laid him down there, discarding the overcoat.

Grace gave a little cry as she caught sight of the still-wet blood on Jesse’s body. His hands were still folded over the Blackthorn sword. She darted to his side. “Is he all right?”

“He’s as dead as he was before,” said Malcolm, somewhat impatiently. “He’s certainly better for having Belial cast out of him, but that doesn’t make him alive.”

Grace looked at Lucie in a little surprise, but Lucie only shook her head slightly. She had suspected Malcolm might have witnessed more of the fight in Mount Street Gardens than he was letting on.

“The anchor is gone,” Lucie said. “I can sense that, but I can also sense that Jesse, the essential spark of him—that’s still there.”

But Grace was shaking her head. Her hood had fallen back, and her blond hair tumbled down over her shoulders, loose from its pins. “Why did you bring him here?” she said. “This is the Sanctuary, the heart of the Institute. Once the Nephilim find out what happened, they’ll burn his body.”

“There was no way to hide it from them,” said Lucie. “Too many people know. And we were never going to be able to raise him here in London. Malcolm and I talked at the Shadow Market, before today, and the only way to do it is to take him away from here, Grace.”

Grace had gone rigid. “Now?”

“Tonight,” said Lucie. “They will let his body remain here until morning, but tomorrow they’ll move him to Idris. And that will be that.”

“You didn’t ask me,” said Grace stiffly. “If it would be all right to take him.”

“This is his only chance,” said Malcolm. “If you truly wish me to attempt necromancy, I will not do it in the heart of the city. I must have space, and my instruments and books. And even then, I cannot promise.”

“But you have an arrangement,” said Grace, straightening. “With Lucie. An agreement. She has convinced you.”