Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices #2)(140)

       
         
       
        

She broke off. This was the man who'd murdered her parents; but it was also a child's voice, helpless and wondering, echoing down through the centuries. Two hundred years-the diary wasn't dated, but it must have been written in the early 1800s.

" 'Annabel says,' " she whispered. "He fell in love with her so early."

Julian cleared his throat and stood up. "Looks like it," he said. "We'll have to search the diary for mentions of places that were important to both of them."

"It's a lot of diary," Emma said, glancing at the three volumes.

"Then I guess we've got a lot of reading ahead of us," said Julian. "I'd better make more tea."

Emma's wail of "Not tea!" followed him into the kitchen.

* * *

The London Shadow Market was located at the southern end of London Bridge. Kit was disappointed to find that London Bridge was just a dull concrete edifice without towers. "I thought it would be like it is in the postcards," he lamented.

"You're thinking of Tower Bridge," Livvy informed him archly as they began scrambling down a set of narrow stone steps to reach the space below the London Bridge railway lines, which crisscrossed overhead. "That's the one in all the pictures. The real London Bridge was knocked down a long time ago; this one's the modern replacement."

A sign advertised some kind of daytime fruit and vegetable market, but that had long since closed. The white-painted stalls were battened down tightly, the gates locked. The shadow of Southwark Cathedral loomed over it all, a bulk of glass and stone that blocked their view of the river.

Kit blinked away the glamour as he reached the bottom of the steps. The image tore like spiderwebs and the Shadow Market burst into life. They were still using many of the ordinary market's stalls-clever, he thought, to hide in plain sight like that-but they were brightly colored now, a rainbow of paint and shimmer. Tents billowed in between the stalls as well, made of silks and draperies, signs floating beside their openings, advertising everything from fortune-telling to luck charms to love spells.

They slipped into the bustling crowd. Stalls sold enchanted masks, bottles of vintage blood for vampires-Livvy looked like she was going to gag over the RED HOT CHERRY FLAVOUR variety-and apothecaries did a brisk trade in magical powders and tinctures. A werewolf with thin, pale white hair sold bottles of a silvery powder, while across from him a witch whose skin had been tattooed with multicolored scales was hawking spell books. Several stands were taken up with selling Shadowhunter-repelling charms, which made Livvy giggle.

Kit was less amused. 

"Push your sleeves down," he said. "And pull your hoods up. Cover your Marks as much as you can."

Livvy and Ty did as they were told. Ty reached for his headphones, too, but paused. Slowly he looped them back around his neck. "I should keep them off," he said. "I might need to hear something."

Livvy squeezed his shoulder and said something to him in a low voice that Kit couldn't hear. Ty shook his head, waving her away, and they pushed farther into the Market. A group of pale-skinned Night's Children had gathered at a stall advertising WILLING VICTIMS HERE. A crowd of humans sat around a deal table, chatting; occasionally another vampire would come up, money would change hands, and one of the humans would be drawn into the shadows to be bitten.

Livvy made a smothered noise. "They're very careful," Kit assured her. "There's a place like this in the L.A. Market. The vamps never drink enough to hurt anyone."

He wondered if he should say something else reassuring to Ty. The dark-haired boy was pale, with a fine sheen of sweat along his cheekbones. His hands were opening and closing at his sides.

Farther along was a stall advertising a RAW BAR. Werewolves surrounded a dozen fresh carcasses of animals, selling bloody hunks torn off in fistfuls by passing customers. Livvy frowned; Ty said nothing. Kit had noticed before that puns and language jokes didn't interest Ty much. And right now, Ty looked as if he were struggling between trying to take in the details of the Market, and throwing up.

"Put your headphones on," Livvy murmured to him. "It's all right."

Ty shook his head again. His black hair was sticking to his forehead. Kit frowned. He wanted to grab Ty and drag him out of the Market to somewhere it would be calm and quiet. He remembered Ty saying that he hated crowds, that the sheer noise and confusion was "like broken glass in my head."

There was something else, too, something odd and off about this Market.