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CHAPTER ELEVEN:
❝ Fearless ❞
The first thing that hit Esme as she stepped inside the living room of Luke's was the smell of coffee. She turned her nose up, humming in content, and asked as a form of greeting, "Is that coffee?" Opening her eyes, she found the residents (permanent, temporary, and otherwise) all gathered there. "Is there a meeting going on?
Clary rose to her feet. "You want me to get you some?"
"Sure." Esme nodded.
"Milk and sugar!" Maia called as Clary left the room, but by the time she was back from the kitchen, steaming mug in hand, the werewolf girl was frowning. "I don't really remember what happened last night," she said, "but there's something about Simon, something that's bothering me . . . "
"Well, you did try to kill him," Clary said, settling back onto the arm of the sofa. "Maybe that's it."
Maia paled, staring down into her coffee. "I'd forgotten. He's a vampire now." She looked up at Clary. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just . . . "
"Yes?" Clary raised her eyebrows. "Just what?"
Esme said, warningly, "Clary."
Maia's face went a slow, dark red. She set her coffee down on the table beside her.
"You might want to lie down," Magnus advised. "I find that helps when the crushing sense of horrible realization sets in."
Maia's eyes filled suddenly with tears. Clary looked toward Magnus in horror — he looked equally shocked, she noticed — and then to Luke. "Do something," she hissed at him under her breath. Magnus might be a warlock who could heal fatal injuries with a flash of blue fire, but Luke was hands down the top choice between the two for dealing with crying teenage girls.
Luke began to kick back his blanket in preparation for rising, but before he could get to his feet, the front door banged open and Jace came in, followed by Nico, then Alec, who was carrying a white box. Magnus hastily pulled the towel off his head and dropped it behind the armchair. Without the gel and glitter, his hair was dark and straight, halfway to his shoulders.
Esme took her time to observe Nico, peering over the rim of her coffee mug. He looked different — maybe because he was wearing a white shirt, tucked lazily in black jeans. She didn't remember ever seeing him in a white shirt. His earth eyes slid past everyone else before coming to rest on her ocean ones. Esme felt her cheeks flare at being caught staring and hid behind her coffee mug.
Jace's eyes landed on Maia, who was still weeping soundlessly and didn't seem to have heard them come in. "Everyone in a good mood, I see," he observed. "Keeping up morale?"
