I repeat, Zachariah said calmly, though his grip on the staff was firm now, I ask of Shadowhunters. That is very much my business.

“Then you do so at your peril.”

A blade flashed in the faerie’s hand. He swung at Zachariah, who moved at once, rolling to the ground and coming up next to the faerie, striking his arm and knocking the sword free.

The whistling of the bombs had stopped. That meant they were right overhead.

Then, they fell. Three of them clanked down on the stones at the opening of the archway and began spitting their phosphorescent flames. This distracted the faerie for just a moment, and Zachariah took the opportunity to dash around the horseshoe and out the other side. He had no desire to continue this fight, to cause problems between the Silent Brothers and the fey. Zachariah had no idea why the faerie had become so violent. Hopefully he would simply return from whence he came. Zachariah slipped onto the Borough High Street, dodging the falling cylinders. But he had barely begun his flight when the faerie was behind him. Zachariah spun, his staff ready.

I have no quarrel with you. Let us go our separate ways.

Below the hawk mask, the faerie’s teeth were gritted. He sliced out with his sword, ripping the air in front of Brother Zachariah, slashing his cloak. Zachariah leaped and spun, his staff wheeling through the air to slam against the sword. As they fought, the canisters landed closer and closer, coughing fire. Neither flinched.

Brother Zachariah took care not to injure the faerie, only to block the attack. His purpose must remain secret, but the faerie was coming with increasing force. He slashed upward with his sword, meaning to cut Zachariah’s throat—and Zachariah smashed it from his hands, sending it flying across the road.

Let us finish with this. Call it a fair fight ended. Walk away.

The faerie was out of breath. Blood trickled from a wound at his temple.

“As you wish,” he said. “But take my warning.”

He turned to go. Brother Zachariah loosened his grip on his staff for just a moment. The faerie turned back, a short blade in his hand, aimed at Zachariah’s heart. With the speed of the Silent Brothers he whirled away, but he could not move fast enough. The blade sank deep into his shoulder and came out the other side.

The pain. The wound immediately began to hiss as if acid was dissolving Zachariah’s flesh. Pain and numbness ran down his arm, causing him to drop his staff. He staggered back, and the faerie retrieved his sword and advanced toward him.

“You have interfered with the fey for the last time, Gregori,” he said. “Our people are our people, and our enemies, our enemies. They will never be yours!”