It was true, surprisingly so. Kit couldn't find the words to explain how he'd felt at the dinner table. As if becoming a Shadowhunter meant being shoved into a machine that would chew him up and spit out a Centurion.
"I look at them," he said, "and I think, 'I can't possibly be like them, and they can't stand anyone different.' "
"You don't have to go to the Academy," said Ty. "You can stay with us as long as you want."
Kit doubted Ty had the authority to make a promise like that, but he appreciated it regardless. "As long as I help you solve mysteries," he said. "How often do you have mysteries to solve, or do I have to wait until another warlock goes crazypants?"
Ty leaned against one of the pillars. His hands fluttered at his sides like night butterflies. "Actually, there's a mystery going on right now."
Kit was intrigued despite himself. "What is it?"
"I think they're not here for the reason they claim they are. I think they're up to something," Ty said. "And they're definitely lying to us."
"Who's lying?"
Ty's eyes sparkled. "The Centurions, of course."
* * *
The next day was blistering hot, one of those rare days when the air seemed to stand still and the proximity of the ocean offered no relief. When Emma arrived, late, for breakfast in the dining room, the rarely used ceiling fans were whirling full speed.
"Was it a sand demon?" Dane Larkspear was asking Cristina. "Akvan and Iblis demons are common in the desert."
"We know that," said Julian. "Mark already said it was a sea demon."
"It slithered off the moment we shone witchlight upon it," said Mark. "But it left behind a stink of seawater, and wet sand."
"I can't believe there aren't perimeter wards here," Zara said. "Why has no one ever seen to it? I ought to ask Mr. Blackthorn-"
"The perimeter wards failed to keep out Sebastian Morgenstern," said Diana. "They weren't used again after that. Perimeter wards rarely work."
She sounded as if she were struggling to keep her temper. Emma couldn't blame her.
Zara looked at her with a sort of superior pity. "Well, with all these sea demons crawling up out of the ocean-which they wouldn't be doing if Malcolm Fade's body wasn't in there somewhere, you know-I think they're called for. Don't you?"
There was a murmur of voices: most of the Centurions, except for Diego, Jon, and Rayan, seemed to be in agreement. As they made plans to set the wards up that morning, Emma tried to catch Julian's eye to share his annoyance, but he was looking away from her, toward Mark and Cristina. "What were you two doing outside last night, anyway?"
"We couldn't sleep," Mark said. "We bumped into each other."
Zara smiled. "Of course you did." She turned to whisper something into Samantha's ear. Both girls giggled.
Cristina blushed angrily. Emma saw Julian's hand tighten on his fork. He laid it down slowly next to his plate.
Emma bit her lip. If Mark and Cristina wanted to date, she'd give them her blessing. She'd stage some kind of breakup with Mark; their "relationship" had already done a lot of what it needed to do. Julian could barely look at her anymore, and that was what she'd wanted-wasn't it?
He didn't seem happy about the idea that she and Mark might be over, though. Not even a little bit. If he was even thinking about that. There had been a time when she could always tell what Julian had on his mind. Now, she could read only the surface of his thoughts: His deeper feelings were hidden.
Diego looked from Mark to Cristina and stood up, shoving back his chair. He walked out of the room. After a moment, Emma dropped her napkin onto her plate and followed.
He had stomped all the way to the back door and out into the parking lot before he noticed she was following him-a sure sign he was upset, given Diego's level of training. He turned to face her, his dark eyes glittering. "Emma," he said. "I understand you wish to scold me. You have for days. But this is not a good time."
"And what would be a good time? You want to pencil it into your day planner under Never Going to Happen?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's what I thought. Come on."
She stalked around the side of the Institute, Diego reluctantly following. They reached a spot where a small mound of dirt rose between cacti, familiar to Emma from long experience. "You stand there," she said, pointing. He gave her a disbelieving look. "So we won't be seen from the windows," she explained, and he grouchily did as she'd asked, crossing his arms across his muscular chest.
"Emma," he said. "You do not and cannot understand, and I cannot explain to you-"