Brother Zachariah did not belong to Downworld. He was a Shadowhunter, and not only a Shadowhunter but one of the cloaked and hooded Brotherhood dedicated to arcane secrets and the dead, sworn and runed to silence and withdrawal from any world. Even his own kind often feared the Silent Brothers, and Downworlders usually avoided any Shadowhunter, but the Downworlders were used to the presence of this particular Shadowhunter at Markets now. Brother Zachariah had been coming to Shadow Markets for a hundred years, on a long quest that even he had begun to believe would be fruitless. Yet he continued searching. Brother Zachariah had little enough, but one thing he did have was time, and he had always tried to be patient.

Tonight, though, he had already been disappointed. The warlock Ragnor Fell had no word for him. None of his few other contacts, painstakingly gathered over the decades, had attended this Market. He was lingering not because he was enjoying this Shadow Market but because he remembered enjoying Markets once.

They had felt like an escape, but Brother Zachariah hardly remembered the wish to escape from the City of Bones, where he belonged. Always in the back of his mind, cold as a tide waiting to wash all other things away, were the voices of his Brothers.

They were urging him home.

Brother Zachariah turned under the glitter of diamond-paned windows. He was leaving the Market, making his way through the laughing, bargaining crowd, when he heard a woman’s voice saying his name.

“Tell me again why we want this Brother Zachariah. The normal Nephilim are bad enough. Angel in the veins, stick up the butts, and I bet with Silent Brothers it’s a whole staff. We definitely can’t take him out for karaoke.”

The woman was speaking in English, but a boy’s voice replied to her in Spanish: “Quiet. I see him.”

It was a pair of vampires, and as he turned, the boy lifted a hand to attract Zachariah’s attention. The vampire with his hand up looked fifteen years old at most, and the other like a young woman about nineteen, but that told Zachariah nothing. Zachariah still looked young too.

It was unusual for a strange Downworlder to want his attention.

“Brother Zachariah?” asked the boy. “I came here to meet you.”

The woman whistled. “Now I see why we might want him. Helloooo, Brother Mackariah.”

Did you? Brother Zachariah asked the boy. He felt what would once have been surprise and now was at least intrigue. Can I be of any use to you?

“I certainly hope so,” said the vampire. “I am Raphael Santiago, second in command of the New York clan, and I dislike useless people.”

The woman waved her hand. “I’m Lily Chen. He’s always this way.”