𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘 | 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒔, 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅

♕

After gathering what they needed from the weapons room—Dahlia was loaded down with more than a dozen of Christopher's specially designed throwing knives—the group made their way down Ludgate Hill and Cannon Street as the sun set over the City. 

Dahlia was walking with Christopher, talking about what Christopher was thinking and helping him with any new invention ideas.

"Seraph blades with demonic rune??" Dahlia exclaimed. Christopher looked at her sheepishly. "Well I feel like if it were created then it would be called Demonic blades." Dahlia said. Christopher brightened up instantly.

They were in front of the bridge; though it was quite dark now and the gas lamps were lit, there was still a good amount of traffic—even the occasional motorcar purring along Tower Bridge Approach.

The others had begun to gather around.

Magnus stepped to the railing along the river's edge, where a high wall dropped down to a stony beach that ran beside and below the bridge. With a flourish, he drew off his gloves and tucked them into his waistcoat pocket. Then he held out his hands. Blue fire sparked at his fingertips.

Light arced over the Thames. Bright as a thousand naphtha beacons, it formed a glimmering path laid from bank to bank of the Thames. Dahlia gasped in wonder as the light rose and twined, forming the ghostly shape of a shimmering Tower Bridge made of light. It was perfect down to the last detail, from the towers to the spiderweb cables and gleaming chains.

Magnus lowered his hands. He was breathing hard. 

"It's spectacular," said Thomas, and there was a look of real wonder on his face. "But—"

"It will not appear to mundanes as it does to you," said Magnus. "They will not see the real bridge. They will see this instead. Look."

He indicated an oncoming hansom cab with a wave of his hand. The small group of Shadowhunters gaped as it swung toward the glimmering illusion of Tower Bridge and onto the bridge deck. The wheels of the hansom rattled over the glimmering tarmac.

"Oh, good, I was afraid the bridge was going to collapse," said Dahlia, as more carriages followed the cab.

Magnus seemed to have thrown up a glamour over the entrance to the real bridge, as all the traffic, pedestrian and even omnibuses, seemed to be swerving unconsciously toward Magnus's secondary, shining structure.

"Magnus would never create a bridge that would collapse," said Matthew. His green eyes were shining.

Magnus just shook his head slightly. "Good luck. Don't get killed."

Dahlia turned and made her way through the archway that led to the steps up to the bridge, the others close behind and around him. All of them held seraph blades except Cordelia; as always, Cortana glimmered in her hand. 

♕

It came screaming out of the air like a diving hawk—a demon the size of an omnibus, its yellowish coat streaked with dried blood. It shot straight for James, a blur of black teeth and red talons—and a haft of gold, where the hilt of James's knife protruded from its shoulder.

James stood upright on the bridge, his right arm outstretched, and flung a second blade. The demon ducked out of the path of the knife and landed on the bridge, taloned feet splayed. It began to move toward the Nephilim.

Cordelia raised Cortana, its golden blade slicing the air. 

All around Dahlia she could hear voices as angel blades were named and blazed up in light: "Eleleth!"