Read Online Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare - Free Book Online Page A

investigating faerie killings against their orders? How would it affect the chance that they might let her go?”
    “Julian would want me to—” Emma started.
    “Julian would cut off his hand if you asked him to. That doesn’tmean you should.” Diana rubbed her temples as if they ached. “Revenge isn’t family, Emma. It isn’t a friend, and it’s a cold bedfellow.” She dropped her hand and moved toward the window, glancing back over her shoulder at Emma. “Do you know why I took this job, here at the Institute? And don’t give me a sarcastic answer.”
    Emma looked down at the floor. It was made up of alternating blue and white tiles; inside the white tiles were drawings: a rose, a castle, a church spire, an angel wing, a flock of birds, each one different.
    “Because you were there in Alicante during the Dark War,” said Emma, a catch in her voice. “You were there when Julian had to—to stop his father. You saw us fight, and you thought we were brave and you wanted to help. That’s what you’ve always said.”
    “I had someone when I was younger who helped me become who I really am,” said Diana. Emma’s ears perked. Diana rarely spoke about her life. The Wrayburns had been a famous Shadowhunter family for generations, but Diana was the last. She never talked about her childhood, her family. It was as if her life had started when she’d taken over her father’s weapons shop in Alicante. “I wanted to help you become who you really are.”
    “Which is?”
    “The best Shadowhunter of your generation,” said Diana. “You train and fight like no one I’ve ever seen. Which is exactly why I don’t want to see you throw your potential away in the pursuit of something that won’t heal your wounds.”
    Throw my potential away? Diana didn’t know, didn’t understand. None of her family had died in the Dark War. And Emma’s parents hadn’t died fighting; they’d been murdered, tortured and mutilated. Crying out for her, maybe, in those moments, short or long or endless, between life and death.
    There was a sharp knock on the door. It swung open to reveal Cristina. She wore jeans and a sweater and her cheeks were pink, asif she was embarrassed to be interrupting. “The Blackthorns,” she said. “They’ve come home.”
    Emma completely forgot whatever she’d been about to say to Diana and spun toward the door. “What? They’re not supposed to get here until tomorrow!”
    Cristina shrugged helplessly. “It could be a different huge family that just Portaled into the entryway.”
    Emma put her hand to her chest. Cristina was right. She could feel it: That faint pain that had existed behind her ribs ever since Julian had gone had become suddenly both better and worse—less painful, more like a butterfly wildly flapping its wings under her heart.
    She darted out of the office, her bare feet slapping against the polished hardwood of the corridor. She hit the stairs and took them two at a time, swinging around the landings. She could hear voices now too. She thought she heard Dru’s high, soft voice raised in a question, and Livvy answering.
    And then she was there, on the second-floor gallery overlooking the foyer. The space was lit up as if it were daytime by a myriad of swirling colors, remnants of a vanishing Portal. In the center of the room stood the Blackthorns: Julian towering over the fifteen-year-old twins, Livvy and Ty. Beside them was Drusilla, holding the hand of the youngest, Tavvy. He looked asleep on his feet, his curly head against Dru’s arm, his eyes closed.
    “You’re back!” Emma cried.
    They all looked up at her. The Blackthorns had always been a family with a strong resemblance to each other: They shared the same wavy dark-brown hair, the color of bitter chocolate, and the same blue-green eyes. Though Ty, with his gray eyes, skinny frame, and tousled black hair, looked as if he’d wandered in from another branch of the family.
    Dru and Livvy were smiling, and there was