was that? Vivian shrieked. Clary felt the slash of claws, but they were already blunted, rendered harmless by whatever had been in the needle.
With a shaking hand, her sister picked up the goblet and set it on the coffee table. “I’m sorry, little witchling. We had to do it.”
Clary watched her sister with an open mouth, too surprised for any deeper emotion, then spun to face Merlin, who still held the hypodermic. He glanced at it, and it dissolved into smoke.
“You tricked me!” she said, accusing them both.
“Apologies,” he said. “We had no way of knowing if this lingering infection of yours might try something.”
Bewildered, Clary glanced down at the stain on the carpet.
“It was just Pixie Forest blend from the local tea shop,” said Tamsin, not meeting Clary’s eyes. “The most it was going to do was make you sleepy.”
Betrayal stung almost as much as the fiery sensation crawling up her leg. They didn’t trust her to take whatever cure they offered. Worse, they saw her as a genuine threat that had to be managed. Her mind understood, but her heart hurt.
“Then what was in the shot?” she asked, her voice gone rough.
The pain had reached her belly. Vivian howled—or maybe it was her. Clary doubled over, clutching her middle. Merlin steadied her with firm hands, easing her back onto the couch. “It will put whatever you have to sleep. It might interfere with your powers for a time, but the trade-off in safety will be worthwhile.”
Merlin the Wise always knows what’s best, said Vivian in a sarcastic snarl.
But he spoke the truth. Clary could feel Vivian draining away, disappearing to somewhere too deep inside for Clary to detect. She wanted to test for the demon’s presence, poking around as she would for a sore tooth, but her thoughts scattered. The pain rippling through her was like wave after wave of fire.
At the same time, that feeling of being watched was finally gone. “There was a demon’s voice talking in my head,” she gasped. “It was Vivian.”
“I suspected something like that.” His face unreadable, Merlin stroked a hand over her bowed head just once, more apology in his gesture than his words. “Demon essence leaves echoes behind. Demons are energy and Vivian was caught between worlds. It’s not surprising that a bit of her touched you during the ritual.”
Sure, during the part where she blew into messy demon bits as the portal closed. Clearly, those bits had tried to reassemble themselves inside Clary.
“Witches are vulnerable because demons can attach themselves to another person’s magic.” Despite Merlin’s closed expression, his voice was gentle. “It’s serious, Clary. It can drive people mad.”
“How long will this cure last?”
Tamsin knelt before her, pressing a damp cloth to Clary’s face. It was wonderfully cool. “It’s hard to say, but it should hold until the infection leaves your system.”
“She’ll come back. She’s more than just an echo.”
“Hush,” Tamsin murmured, putting a hand to Clary’s face. “We don’t know that yet.”
Clary wanted to argue, but her head was pounding now. A tide of sickness rose up, swamping every other consideration. She jumped up, pushing past her sister, and ran for the bathroom.
The only good thing was that she hadn’t had much to eat. Too bad whatever drug Merlin had given her didn’t care if her stomach was empty. At some point, she locked the door to keep Tamsin out. Her sister might be a healer, but Clary needed privacy more than soothing words. After a while, Tamsin’s anxious voice faded and Clary slumped on the cold tile in peace.
What was she going to do? If the cure wasn’t permanent, she’d be back in the same hopeless place the moment Vivian woke up. Except it would be worse. Vivian would be furious, and Tamsin would be in even more danger. Merlin would be vulnerable, because now he believed Clary was, if not cured, at least inert.
She needed to get away, far away, to someplace where Tamsin and Merlin would be safe. Her own Shadowring Coven was on the opposite coast of the continent. Better yet, she could go to a circle of witches where she didn’t know anyone and there would be no friends or family Vivian could use as hostages. The moment she formed that thought, it became her plan. It was clear, simple and the right thing to do.
Clary already hated the idea. It made sense, but she craved emotional comfort, too. She’d always been the independent misfit, whistling her way through scrape after scrape, and yet home had always been there. So had her sisters. Cutting herself off wouldn’t be easy.
She heard Merlin’s voice, muffled by the door and distance to the next room. Tamsin replied. The words weren’t clear, but her sister’s concern was evident. Clary didn’t have much time before someone was knocking on the door again. If they stopped her before she got away, it would be twice as hard to leave them behind.
Eventually, Clary got to her feet. Pain made her knees wobble as she stood. She drank some water, then stole some mouthwash to get the vile taste out of her mouth. Finally, she looked in the mirror, confirming she looked as awful as she felt.
Slowly, she opened the bathroom door. Merlin and her sister were in the living room down the hall, their view of her blocked by the angle of the wall. To Clary’s left, just a few steps away, was the apartment door. A glance told her that Tamsin hadn’t locked it when they’d come in.
Years of teenage misbehavior had made her an expert at sneaking out. Clary slipped away, silently shutting the door behind her. Since she didn’t carry a purse, she still had her keys, wallet and phone in her pockets. Nothing was left behind at her sister’s place. All she had to do was make it home to pack a suitcase, and she’d leave town. A quick mental check told her Vivian was still gone.
Clary ran down the apartment stairs, not bothering with the elevator. The exit emptied into the parking lot, and she strode across the sunny pavement with renewed confidence. And nearly ended up a speedbump for Gawain’s motorcycle.
Oh, hell! She jumped back, plastering a smile on her face and waving brightly. The Scottish knight waved back, used to her coming and going. That would only buy her minutes at best. The instant he opened the door and mentioned that he’d seen her, the search would be on.
Clary slipped out of sight and ran. Now going straight home wasn’t an option. In fact, all the places she knew—Tamsin’s, her own apartment, Medievaland, Merlin’s place—were bound to be under Merlin’s magical surveillance. She wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe head to the bus station and catch a ride out of town?
She entered an alley that crept between a gas station and a pub. It was smelly and narrow, the brickwork on either side black with age and dirt. Patches of straggling grass grew under rusted downspouts. Clary looked over her shoulder even though she’d barely taken two steps into the confined space. But that was stupid. She was a witch with a demon on board. That made her like a bomb in an action-adventure movie, one that had to be dumped in an ocean or shot into outer space before it nuked the free world. She could blast any mugger to smithereens.
Squaring her shoulders, Clary pushed on. It was broad daylight, and she could tell this alley was a shortcut to the main road ahead. Going this way would put distance between herself and well-meaning
