a town that fords the river // christopher lightwood {2}

five // the third alchemist

Once the sun started to go down, Pluto gathered their things, bundled up a little more against the cold, and headed out towards Mayfair. It was quite a walk, but it was a walk they'd made many times before. It probably didn't take much more than twenty minutes.

When Pluto knocked on the front door of the house in Grosvenor Square, xe was met by a maid who nodded and left xyr alone when xe explained why xe was here. Xe took the elevator down to the laboratory (because why use the stairs, when one could use the elevator) and found Christopher waiting, already dressed to go out, at one of the lab benches.

"So," said Pluto, taking a deep breath. "Shadow Market."

"Yes," said Christopher. He stood up, and paused. "Have you ever been to a Shadow Market before?"

"To the one in Moorefield," said Pluto, "back in the future. But nothing as big as this one's certainly going to be."

"But you're aware of its dangers."

"Don't touch anything, don't eat anything, don't go anywhere by yourself without watching your back and definitely don't go off with anyone you don't know. Basically the same rules as a college frat party."

Christopher breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." He paused then, frowning in confusion. "What's a college frat party?"

"Come on." Pluto linked their arm with his. "I'll explain to you on the walk over."

< & >

Pluto was not generally someone who forced others to conform to their way of being in the world, but occasionally one did have to make adjustments to one's lifestyle to suit them and the one Christopher was still adjusting to was their refusal to take carriages if they could help it. They took the train or the trolley if it was running, and walked if it wasn't, managing up to six miles as easily as breathing. It was in these times that he was reminded rather sharply that Pluto was, in fact, as strong as any other Shadowhunter, if not in quite the same ways. He found himself thinking about that strength sometimes. He tried not to do so too much. So they walked to the Shadow Market. It was tiring, but he wasn't going to complain.

Nobody looked twice at Christopher when he approached the gates to the Shadow Market anymore: he never caused trouble, and he always had money to spend. He worried they might stop Pluto, wanting to know who xe was and what xe wanted here, why he was bringing xyr. They didn't. The phouka sitting at the door did look at Pluto a little wide-eyed when they went past, but Christopher chalked this up to a mixture of having heard rumors of Pluto's work on the goblin case and xyr long, dark pink hair. He had no idea how xe was still getting that color back here in the 20th century, especially since xe'd told him point blank it wasn't xyr natural coloring. They didn't make hair dye like that yet.

"Do you mind," Christopher asked, "if I stop to pick up some supplies as well, while we're here?"

"Oh, go ahead," said Pluto. "We can ask around and get your supplies at the same time."

Which they did. He remembered the first part of the evening mostly as a whirlwind of questions and haggling, Pluto passing over the watercolor sketch of Andy their father had done, Pluto tired and leaning into his side, mumbling something about wanting to get hot cocoa at that coffeehouse before they went home. They stopped at one last stand, belonging to a little redheaded vampire with wide blue eyes. Pluto asked their questions, and passed over the sketch xe'd offered.

"Pluto Lochlyn-Westhouse, yes?" the vampire said, going in for a handshake. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to you."

"What about?" Pluto asked. They didn't accept the handshake.

"It's about the Third Alchemist," the vampire said nonchalantly, packing up the earrings that Pluto had bought. "The Surviving One. Listen, I can't say much more, they're listening. But keep your eyes and your ears out. She knows you're here. She's looking for you."

Pluto and Christopher looked at each other. "The Third Alchemist?" Pluto mouthed. "What is she, crazy?"

"Possibly," said Christopher. "But she could be serious. We'd best take this back to the Tavern, just in case."

< & >

"The Third Alchemist," said James. He paused in his pacing across the Headquarters floorboards. "That's who she warned you about?"

"Yeah," said Pluto. "The Third Alchemist. Or the Surviving One."

James bit his lip. Those were both just pretentious-sounding enough for him to suspect the names were self-given. The stories his parents told suggested there had once been a time when London was practically crawling with such self-titled schemers, and they often turned out to be very dangerous. The only trouble was, "I've never heard of anyone by those names. But we can ask around. You said this...informant said the Third Alchemist knew you were in London, and was looking for you?"

Pluto nodded. "She seemed very frightened, too, and she ran off again pretty quickly."

"I do not like this," said Cordelia. "It seems like too good of a...Pluto, what's that word you use so often again?"

"Synchronicity?" Pluto offered.

"Yes," said Thomas, "that. She just happens to find you in the Shadow Market, and deliver a cryptic, ominous warning, right before you're about to go to the Hell Ruelle to look for answers about Andy? Cordelia is right, that's too good."

"It does sound extremely odd, doesn't it?" Pluto frowned into their mug of cocoa. "It's almost like someone's trying to scare me off the case."

"They might be," said Matthew. "Either way," he continued, "whether this Third Alchemist is a scare tactic or a real person or nothing at all, it's certainly going to complicate our trip tomorrow."

< & >

Pluto spent the first part of the day after doing Hell Ruelle-related busywork, avoiding both the whole sudden "Third Alchemist" situation and the explanation xe'd have to invent for xyr father for why xe was going to be out so late again. Alan Lochlyn was a surprisingly permissive parent, and he'd trusted Pluto and xyr judgements so far, but Pluto had the feeling he wouldn't like the idea of xyr going out to a scandalous salon with a scandalous, handsome drunkard and staying late, even if it was for a case.

So instead, Pluto went out and picked up their nice grey slacks from the cleaners,' and stopped in at a stationery store for a small notebook, and in the mundane market for new soap, comfort-ate an entire plate of Bridget's sugar cookies to soothe their nerves, and finally ran a bath and got ready to go. Anna had said a few things about both the usual attire of visitors to the Hell Ruelle, and about the ambience of the place, that suggested Pluto could opt for a black turtleneck and the aforementioned grey slacks, go as a beat poet, and probably get away with it.

Come evening, Pluto collected their notebook, tucked their trousers into the tops of their tall black felt boots as usual, and headed down the stairs to find their father already in the foyer, putting on his hat.

"Da?" Pluto asked. "Where are you going?"

"I've been invited to dinner at a hotel not too far away from here," Alan explained. "I was going to go tell you in a minute, but I figured I'd better get my hat before I forgot. I might be out a bit late, this is someone I used to know in the future, Bryn managed to put us in touch before she left. So we'll have a lot of catching-up to do."

"I see." Pluto smiled, nodded. "Have a good dinner, then." Internally, txe breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like xe wasn't going to have to explain xyr trip to the Hell Ruelle after all.

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author's notes:
when you're both sneaking out of the house like reckless teenagers at eight o'clock...and only one of you is actually a teenager