“But you’re the only one who can protect me, right? ‘Come with me if you want to live,’ and all that? Yeah, I’ve seen that movie. Not interested in living it.”

He was plenty sure of himself, Brother Zachariah thought, and felt the strange urge to smile. Maybe there was a trace of the familiar here after all.

“A man like me, he makes his fair share of enemies. I’ve been looking out for myself my whole life, and I don’t see any reason I—”

Whatever he said next was drowned out by an unholy screeching. A giant birdlike demon swooped down, speared Crow’s coat with its razor-sharp beak, and lifted him into the air.

Brother Zachariah seized one of the seraph blades he had brought along, just in case. Mebahiah, he named it, and flung it at the birdlike demon. The blade embedded itself in the feathered sternum, and the demon exploded midair. Crow tumbled several feet to the ground, landing in a noisy heap of feathers and ichor. Zachariah rushed over to help the man to his feet, but these efforts were rebuffed.

Crow examined the large, ragged hole in his trench coat with disgust. “That was brand-new!”

It is indeed a very nice coat. Or … it was. Zachariah refrained from pointing out the good fortune that the Halphas demon hadn’t ripped a hole through anything more valuable. Like his rib cage.

“So is that the danger you came to warn me about? Saving my new coat from a demon seagull?”

It struck me as more of a demon pigeon.

Crow brushed himself off. He darted several suspicious looks at the sky, as if expecting another attack. “Listen, Mr….”

Brother. Brother Zachariah.

“Right, okay, bro, I can see that a guy like you could come in handy in a fight. And if you’re that determined to protect me from some big, scary danger, I guess I won’t fight you on it.”

Brother Zachariah was surprised by the sudden change of heart. Perhaps nearly getting pecked to death by a demon pigeon had that effect on people.

I’d like to take you somewhere safe.

“Sure. Fine. Give me a few hours to tie up some loose ends, and Rosemary and I will meet you on the Pont des Arts at dawn. We’ll do whatever you want. Promise.”

I can accompany you, as you tie these ends.

“Listen, brother, the kinds of ends I’m talking about, they don’t take kindly to Shadowhunters poking around in their business. If you catch my drift.”

Your drift sounds mildly criminal.

“You want to make a citizen’s arrest?”

I am concerned only with your safety.

“I made it twenty-two years without your help. I think I can make it another six hours, don’t you?”

Brother Zachariah had invested decades into this search. It seemed wildly unwise to let this man slip away, with only a promise that he would return. Especially given what he’d learned about the man’s reputation. It didn’t exactly inspire confidence in his word.