Son of the Dawn (Ghosts of the Shadow Market #1)(3)

A cold weight of disapproval made itself known from his silent brethren, like stones being pressed against his mind. Zachariah was allowed a great deal of latitude for a Silent Brother, but his frequent visits to the Shadow Markets and his annual meeting with a lady on Blackfriars Bridge were already testing the limits of what could be allowed.

If he began consorting with Downworlders on issues that could be handled perfectly well by an Institute, Brother Zachariah’s privileges were in danger of being suspended.

He could not risk missing that meeting. Anything but that.

The Silent Brothers are forbidden to interfere with the affairs of the outside world. Whatever your problem is, said Brother Zachariah, I strongly urge you to consult with your Institute.

He bowed his head and began to turn away.

“My problem is werewolves smuggling yin fen into New York,” Raphael called after him. “Ever heard of yin fen?”

The bells and songs of the Shadow Market seemed to go quiet.

Brother Zachariah turned sharply back to the two vampires. Raphael Santiago stared at him with glittering eyes which left Brother Zachariah in no doubt that Raphael knew a good deal about Zachariah’s own history.

“Ah,” said the vampire. “I see you have.”

Zachariah usually tried to preserve memories of his mortal life, but now he had to make an effort to banish the intruding horror of waking up as a child with all he loved dead, and silver fire burning in his veins.

Where did you hear about the yin fen?

“I don’t intend to tell you,” said Raphael. “Nor do I intend to let that stuff be freely available in my city. A large quantity of yin fen is on its way to the city, on board a ship carrying cargo from Shanghai, Ho Chi Minh, Vienna, and Idris itself. The ship unloads at the New York Passenger Ship Terminal. Will you help me or not?”

Raphael had already mentioned the leader of his clan performing disastrous experiments with drugs. Zachariah’s guess was that many potential customers among the Downworld were talking about the shipment of yin fen at the Market. The fact a Downworlder with conservative views had heard about it was sheer luck.

I will help you, said Brother Zachariah. But we must consult with the New York Institute. If you wish I can go with you to the Institute and explain matters. The Lightwoods will appreciate the information, and you offering it. This is an opportunity to improve relations between the Institute and all the Downworlders in New York.

Raphael did not look convinced, but after a moment he nodded.

“You will go with me?” he asked. “You will not fail? They would not listen to a vampire, but I suppose it is possible they will listen to a Silent Brother.”

I will do whatever I can, said Brother Zachariah.

Cunning crept into Raphael’s voice. “And if they don’t help me. If they or even the Clave refuse to believe me, then what will you do?”

Then I will still help you, said Brother Zachariah, ignoring the chill howl of his brethren in his mind and thinking of Tessa’s clear eyes.

He dreaded missing a meeting with Tessa, but when he did meet her, he wanted to face her with no stain upon him. He could not let any child suffer what he had suffered, not if he could prevent it.

Zachariah was not able to feel all he had felt when he was mortal, but Tessa could still feel. He could not let her be disappointed in him. She was the last star he had to steer by.

“I’ll come to the Institute with you,” Lily volunteered.

“You will do no such thing,” snapped Raphael. “It is not safe. Remember, the Circle attacked Magnus Bane.”

The ice in Raphael’s voice could have laid the whole of New York City under frost for a week in midsummer. He eyed Brother Zachariah with disfavor.

“Magnus invented your Portals, not that he receives any credit for it from Shadowhunters. He is one of the most powerful warlocks in the world, and so tenderhearted he rushes to the aid of vicious killers. He is the best the Downworld has to offer. If the Circle targeted him, they would cut down any one of us.”

“Would’ve been a damn shame,” Lily confirmed. “Magnus throws an amazing rager, too.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Raphael, casting a look of distaste upon the joyful riot of the Market. “I do not enjoy people. Or gatherings.”

A werewolf wearing an enchanted papier-maché full-moon head shoved past Raphael, shouting “Awoooo!” Raphael turned to look at him, and the werewolf backed away with his hands up, mumbling: “Uh, sorry. My mistake.”

Despite slight fellow feeling with the werewolf, Brother Zachariah unbent a little at this evidence that this vampire was not entirely awful.

I understand that you value Magnus highly. So do I. Once he aided someone very dear to—

“No, I don’t!” Raphael interrupted. “And I don’t care about your story. Don’t tell him I said any of that. I can have opinions on my colleagues. It does not mean I have personal feelings about them.”

“Hey, my man, great to see you,” said Ragnor Fell, passing by.

Raphael paused to fist-bump the green warlock before Ragnor disappeared among the stalls and sounds and many-colored lights of the Market. Lily and Brother Zachariah regarded him.

“He’s another colleague!” Raphael protested.

I like Ragnor, said Brother Zachariah.

“Good for you,” snapped Raphael. “Revel in your hobby of liking and trusting everyone. It sounds as appealing to me as sunbathing.”