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

It couldn’t be yogurt, unless Jonathan Wayland had a very serious allergy to dairy.

The Silent Brother was a lot less scary than Isabelle had been expecting. In fact, from what Isabelle could see beneath the hood, he resembled one of the mundie singers she had seen in posters around the city. From the way Robert was nodding at him and Maryse was leaning toward him in her chair, Isabelle could see they were getting along.

The vampire was not conversing with their parents. He was leaning against one of the walls, arms crossed, and glaring at the floor. He did not seem as if he was interested in getting along with anyone. He looked like a kid, hardly older than they were, and he would have been almost as handsome as the Silent Brother if not for his sour expression. He was wearing a black leather jacket to go with his scowl. Isabelle wished she could see the fangs.

“Can I offer you a coffee?” Maryse said to the vampire in a cool, stilted tone.

“I do not drink … coffee,” said the vampire.

“Odd,” said Maryse. “I heard you had a delightful coffee with Catherine Ashdown.”

The vampire shrugged. Isabelle knew vampires were dead and soulless and all, but she did not see why they had to be rude.

She nudged Alec in the ribs. “Get a load of the vampire. Can you believe that?”

“I know!” Alec whispered back. “Isn’t he amazing?”

“What?” Isabelle said, grabbing Alec’s elbow.

Alec did not glance at her. He was studying the vampire. Isabelle started to get the same uneasy feeling that she got whenever she noticed Alec looking at the same posters of mundie singers that she did. Alec always got red and angry when she saw him looking. Isabelle sometimes thought it would be nice to talk about the singers, the way she’d heard mundie girls doing, but she knew Alec wouldn’t want to. Once Mom had asked them what they were looking at, and Alec had looked afraid.

“Don’t go near him,” Isabelle urged. “I think vampires are gross.”

Isabelle was used to being able to whisper to her brother in a crowd. The vampire turned his head slightly, and Isabelle remembered vampires did not have pathetic hearing like mundanes. The vampire could definitely hear her.

This nasty realization caused Isabelle to relax her hold on Alec. She watched in horror as he pulled away from her and advanced with nervous determination toward the vampire. Not wanting to be left out, Isabelle trailed a few steps behind him.

“Hello,” said Alec. “It’s, um, very nice to meet you.”

The vampire boy gave him a thousand-yard stare that suggested a thousand yards was too close up and the vampire wished he were enjoying blissful solitude in the far reaches of space. “Hello.”

“I’m Alexander Lightwood,” said Alec.

Grimacing as if the introduction were vital information being tortured out of him, the vampire said: “I am Raphael.”

When he made that face, Isabelle did see the fangs. They were not as cool as she had hoped.

“I’m basically twelve,” continued Alec, who was totally eleven. “You don’t look a lot older than me. But I know it’s different with vampires. I guess you kind of stay the same age you stop at, though, right? Like you’re fifteen, but you’ve been fifteen for a hundred years. How long have you been fifteen?”

Raphael said flatly, “I’m sixty-three.”

“Oh,” said Alec. “Oh. Oh, that’s cool.”

He advanced several steps toward the vampire. Raphael did not take a step back, but he looked like he wanted to.

“Also,” Alec added shyly, “your jacket is cool.”

“Why are you talking to my children?” Mom asked sharply.

She was already up from her chair opposite the Silent Brother, and as she spoke she seized hold of Alec and Isabelle. Her fingers pinched; she was holding them so hard, and fear seemed to travel to Isabelle through her mother’s touch, even though she had not been afraid before.

The vampire had not been looking at them as if he thought they would be delicious at all. Maybe that was how he lured you in, though, Isabelle considered. Maybe Alec was just ensorcelled by vampire wiles. It would be nice to be able to blame the Downworlder for making Isabelle worry.

The Silent Brother rose from his chair and glided to join them. Isabelle heard the vampire whisper to the Silent Brother, and she was pretty sure he said: “This is my nightmare.”

Isabelle stuck her tongue out at him. Raphael’s lip curled the tiniest fraction farther from his fangs. Alec did glance at Isabelle then, to make sure she was not scared. Isabelle wasn’t scared of much, but Alec was always fussing.

Raphael came here out of concern for a Shadowhunter child, said the Silent Brother.

“No, I didn’t,” Raphael sneered. “Better watch your children. I once killed a whole gang of boys not much older than your boy here. Shall I take this as a refusal to help with the shipment? I am deeply shocked. Well, we tried. Time to go, Brother Zachariah.”

“Wait,” said Robert. “Of course we will help. I will meet you at the drop-off point in New Jersey.”

Naturally her dad would help, Isabelle thought indignantly. This vampire was an idiot. Whatever mistakes they might have made when they were really young, her parents ran this whole Institute and had killed lots and lots of evil demons. Anyone sensible would know you could always count on her dad.

“You can consult with us on other Shadowhunter matters at any time,” her mom added, but she did not let go of Alec and Isabelle until the vampire and Brother Zachariah had left the Institute.

Isabelle had thought the visit would be exciting, but she had ended up feeling terrible. She wished that Jonathan Wayland was not coming.

Guests were terrible, and Isabelle never wanted any more.




The plan was to stow away aboard ship undetected, apprehend the smugglers, and dispose of the yin fen. The child would never have to know about any of it.

It was almost nice to be in one of the sleek Shadowhunter boats again. Brother Zachariah had been in the multi-hulled trimarans as a child on lakes in Idris, and once his parabatai had stolen one and they had rowed it down the Thames. Now he, an edgy Robert Lightwood, and two vampires had used one to navigate the black nighttime waters of the Delaware River, coming down from the port of Camden. Lily kept complaining that they were practically in Philadelphia, until the boat drew close to the tall cargo ship. Dawn Trader was painted in dark blue letters against its gray side. They waited for their moment, then Robert threw a grappling hook.

Brother Zachariah, Raphael, Lily, and Robert Lightwood made it onto the boat and into a deserted cabin. This journey, short and stealthy though it was, left them with the impression that there was no mundane crew onboard at all. Hiding there, they counted the voices of the smugglers and realized there were far more than had been reported.

“Oh no, Brother Hop-in-the-sack-ariah,” Lily whispered. “I think we’re going to have to fight them.”

She looked very cheerful about the prospect. As she spoke, she winked and pulled her feathered flapper’s headband from her yellow-streaked hair.

“It’s actually from the 1920s, so I don’t want to damage it,” she explained, and nodded to Raphael. “I’ve had it longer than I’ve had him. He’s from the 1950s. Jazz baby and greaser teen take on the world.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Desist with the nicknames. They are getting worse.”

Lily laughed. “I will not. Once you go Zachariah, you never go backariah.”

Raphael and Robert Lightwood both looked appalled, but Zachariah did not mind the nicknames. He did not hear laughter often.

What worried him was the child.

We cannot allow Jonathan to be scared or hurt, he said.

Robert was nodding, and the vampires looking supremely unconcerned, when a boy’s voice came from outside the door.

“I’m not frightened of anything,” he said.

Jonathan Wayland, Zachariah presumed.

“Then why are you asking about the Lightwoods?” asked a woman’s voice. She sounded irritated. “They’re taking you in. They won’t be unkind to you.”