"And yes," he said, as the first images began to unroll across the screen. "I hope we will in the future be friends."
* * *
"Jules," Emma said, leaning against the wall of the church. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Doesn't there seem something kind of sacrilegious about burning down a church?"
"It's abandoned. Unhallowed." Julian pushed his jacket sleeves up. He was marking himself with a Strength rune, neatly and precisely, on the inside of his forearm. Behind him Emma could see the curve of the bay, the water dashing itself in blue curls against the shore.
"Still-we respect all religions. Every religion tithes to Shadowhunters. That's how we live. This seems-"
"Disrespectful?" Julian smiled with little humor. "Emma, you didn't see what I saw. What Malcolm did. He ripped apart the fabric of what made this church a hallowed place. He spilled blood, and then his blood was spilled. And when a church becomes a slaughterhouse like that, it's worse than if it was some other kind of building." He raked a hand through his hair. "Remember what Valentine did with the Mortal Sword? When he took it from the Silent City?"
Emma nodded. Everyone knew the story. It was part of Shadowhunter history. "He changed its alliance from seraphic to infernal. Changed it from good to evil."
"And this church has been changed too." He craned his head back to look up at the tower. "As sacrosanct a place as it once was, it's that unholy now. And demons will keep being attracted to it, and keep coming through, and they won't stay put here-they'll come to the village. They'll be a danger to the mundanes who live there. And to us."
"Tell me this isn't just you wanting to burn down a church because you want to make a statement."
Julian smiled at her blandly-the sort of smile that made everyone love him and trust him, that made him seem harmless. Forgettable even. But Emma saw through it to the razor blades beneath. "I don't think anyone wants to hear any statements I have to make."
Emma sighed. "It's a stone building. You can't just draw a Fire rune on it and expect it to go up like matches."
He looked at her levelly. "I remember what happened in the car," he said. "When you healed me. I know what a rune that's made when we draw on each other's energy can do."
"You want my help for this?"
Julian turned so he was facing the wall of the church, a gray sheet of granite, punctuated by boarded-up windows. Grass grew out of control around their feet, starred with dandelions. In the far distance Emma could hear the cries of children on the beach.
He reached out with his stele and drew on the stone of the wall. The rune flickered, tiny flames lapping at its edge. Fire. But the flames died down quickly, absorbed into the stone.
"Put your hands on me," Julian said.
"What?" Emma wasn't sure she'd heard him right.
"It would help if we were touching," he said in a matter-of-fact manner. "Put your hands on my back, maybe, or my shoulders."
Emma moved up behind him. He was taller than her; lifting her hands to his shoulders would mean stretching her body into an awkward position. This close to him, she could feel the expansion of his rib cage when he breathed, see the tiny freckles on the back of his neck where the wind had blown his hair sideways. The arc of broad shoulders into narrower waist and hips, the length of his legs.
She placed her hands on his waist, as if she were riding behind him on a motorcycle, under his jacket but on top of his T-shirt. His skin was warm through the cotton.
"All right," she said. Her breath moved his hair; a shiver went over his skin. She could feel it. She swallowed. "Go ahead."
She half-closed her eyes as the stele scratched against the wall. He smelled like cut grass, which wasn't surprising, considering he'd been rolling in it with the struggling piskie.
"Why wouldn't anyone want to hear them?" she asked.
"Hear what?" Julian reached up. His T-shirt rose, and Emma found her hands on bare skin, taut over oblique muscles. Her breath caught.
"Any statements you had to make about, you know, anything," Emma said, as his feet settled back onto the ground. Her hands were tangled in the fabric of his shirt now. She looked up to see a second Fire rune: This one was deeper, darker, and the flames at its edges shone brightly. The stone around it began to crack-
And the fire went out.
"It might not work," Emma said. Her heart was pounding. She wanted this to work, and at the same time she didn't. Their runes ought to be more powerful when created together; that was the case for all parabatai. But there was a limit to that power. Unless two parabatai were in love with each other. Jem had made it sound as if their power, then, could be almost infinite-that it might grow until it destroyed them.