“I know what you did, more than a century ago,” he said. “I know better than you do. The trick you played, causing one Shadowhunter to poison another? It poisoned an unborn child. Does that amuse you?”

The faerie’s mouth went slack.

“That child died, because of you,” said Jem. “Now there is another child who needs help. I could take the herb from you. I will if I have to. But I’m giving you the chance to make another choice.”

“It’s too late!” said Mother Hawthorn, and Jem knew she was thinking of Auraline.

“Yes,” said Jem, merciless. “It’s too late to save the ones we lost. But this child is not lost yet. This choice is not lost yet. Choose.”

Mother Hawthorn turned her face away, her mouth set in bitter lines. But she reached inside the worn pouch at her belt and put the herb into his hand.

Jem took it and raced back to Tessa. Rafael’s body was arching under her hands. The dittany flared to life at her touch, and Jem joined his hands with Tessa’s, joined his voice with hers as they spoke in all the languages they had ever taught each other. Their words were a song, their linked hands magic, and they poured everything they knew, together, into the child.

Rafael’s eyes opened. There was a flash of Tessa’s pearlescent magic in his dark irises, then it was lost. The child sat up, looking perfectly all right, well and whole and somewhat annoyed. He gazed into their distraught faces and asked, in clipped Spanish, “Where is he?”

“He’s in there,” Lily answered.

The narrow cobbled street was full of members of the Shadow Market seeing to the werewolf victims or herding Shadowhunters, with some different, deeply nervous-looking Shadowhunters tentatively assisting or trying to put out the flames. Lily was not doing any of that. She stared at the house with her arms crossed and her eyes dark with tears.

As they watched, part of the roof collapsed. Rafe started forward. Tessa lunged and seized him, holding him as he strained against her grip. Jem stood.

“No, Jem,” said Tessa. “Take the child. Let me go in.”

Jem tried to take Rafe, but he was fighting them both. Then Rafe went still. Jem twisted around to see what the child was looking at.

What everybody was looking at. There was a ripple in the crowd, then a hush. Jem did not think any of the Shadow Market or the Institute would forget what had happened here tonight.

From the swirling smoke, out of the collapsing building, came two Shadowhunters with werewolves in their arms. They walked tall, their faces grim, and people parted to let them pass.

The women had been saved, and the child. Jem felt new resolution rise in him. Tessa was right. If Rosemary could be saved, he would save her. If there was a child, he and Tessa would stand between that child and the Riders and the King.