My beloved Sophie, you will never read this. On the bottom shelf of the bookcases built into the far wall of my bedroom here in CirenworthâCirenworth! you say, but ah, I will explainâare my diaries, in all shapes and forms, from leatherbound quartos of heavy ivory pages to spiralbound ruled notebooks for children to use in school. There are gaps, sometimes of years, and a few that have been lost or damaged, or whose paper was never intended to last as long as I have lived. But each of them is written to someoneâI never understood âDear Diary,â as though Diary were a person I might want to know my thoughts. But you, of course, I do wish to know. And it has been many decades, Sophie, since I have started one of these diaries and addressed it to you. But today brings a fresh start in a new volume, a lovely little book of swirly Florentine paper, and so I address it to you:
Hello, Sophie Lightwood, nĂŠe Collins, my first true friend in London. You have been gone so long. And yet it also seems only a moment; I turn and see your graceful figure as you hurry down the hall with a basket in your arms, or the way you smiled when you said you were allowed to speak to Will however rudely you liked (and he did deserve it at the time!) or the way you laughed with Gideon over scones.
So: Cirenworth. I live here with Jem now, you know. He is no longer a Silent Brotherâwell, that is not relevant to my entry today so I suggest you consult one of the earlier diaries to catch up and come back when youâre done. And we have just been visited by his cousin Emma Carstairs, and her paramour, Julian Blackthorn. (Donât worry; the Blackthorns of his generation are quite kind and friendly!) She has been keeping a diary herself, to record their restoration of Blackthorn Hall in Chiswick, which has remained mostly unoccupied all this time and has fallen into ruin. (Well, further ruin, I suppose.) And, of course, that old pile of bricks has all kinds of magical problems that theyâre having to sort out, although of course they were also eager to see usâJem and I, and Mina and Kit.
Yes, Iâm a mother again, Sophie, and that makes me miss you. How good it was to have you by my side in those early days. I remember one evening, when there was a gathering at the Instituteâsome sort of party, it doesnât matter, but James was a baby and Thomas was a baby. Someone, maybe old Lysander Gladstone, was trying to engage us in conversation, and I remember we fell asleep against one another right there on the loveseat, and the babies too. When we woke up it turned out Lysander had been highly offended and Will had had to explain to him about babies and new mothers. And we both startled because the children were gone, but of course Will and Gideon had come and retrieved them and put them in the nursery, and let us nap together there.
I miss those moments with you.
Mina is only a toddler, and Jemâs daughter, and thank the Angel she has something of his temperament. It has been a long time since I had to chase a little one across the dining room floor, but she is sweet-natured and easygoing, most of the time. And we have an older son, Kit, who came to live with us after his father was killed. He is a distant relation in the Herondale line, but he does not feel distant at all. He completes our family in a way I could not have imagined, and in a way Iâm sure he never expected. He is also a teenager, and he had his own life before he came to us, so between those truths he often keeps things to himself. And soâas one does with teenagersâI worry about him. He has friendsâeven a girlfriend, if Iâm correct in my observationsâand he loves Mina with a fierceness that often surprises even him. But there is a heaviness in the way he carries himself sometimes, a sadness that he wonât, or canât, speak to us about. And maybe it is only that heâs faced so much loss so young, but I canât help the feeling thereâs something more.
I do want to tell you more about Kit, and where he came fromâitâs all much more dramatic than youâre probably imaginingâbut it is late and I can talk to you about Kit anytime. I wish instead to digress and tell you about Julian and Emmaâs visit.
They are pulling at the knots of a few mysteries regarding Blackthorn Hallâa curse on the house that dates back to guess who, Benedict Lightwood (I know, Sophie, who could have guessed). And a ghost, benign but faint and unidentified, probably trapped by the curse. There are a whole set of objects, it seems, connected to the curse, and the ghost told them to bring one of them here to Cirenworthâhence their visit, though as I say, I donât think they minded an excuse to see Kit or Mina.
We were washing up after supper and Jemâyou know how Jem isâsaid straightaway to them, well, letâs see these objects you found.
Julian fetched them from his bag and put them on the counter: a silver-plated whisky flask, quite tarnished, and a dagger, also quite banged up by time. Neither meant much to me at firstâas youâll know, both flasks and daggers are very common in London Shadowhunter homes, even todayâbut Jem recognized the weapon immediately.
He pointed at the inscription on it and read out, âI wanted so much to have a gleaming dagger, that each of my ribs became a dagger.â
Both Julian and Emma fairly goggled at him. (I also think they donât realize that Jem does things like this precisely so people will goggle at him; he only pretends to be perfectly dramatic by nature.) âYou know it?â said Julian, while at the same time Emma said, âYou read Farsi?â
âIâd recognize it anywhere,â Jem said. âIt belonged to my cousin, Alastair Carstairs, though it came to him from his motherâs family.â
âThe ghost said to bring it here,â Emma said. âTo bring it home.â
Jem picked up the flask, which turned out to have a monogram on it. âOh my,â he said, his voice quiet, and showed me the initials.
My poor dear Matthew. He came into my mind immediately, with his laughing eyes and his bright smile. Julian said theyâd already figured out it was his. But that was very strange, I pointed out, because if Benedict was responsible for the curse, he was dead almost ten years before Matthew was even born. Julian started to say it didnât make sense to them either, and was part of the mystery still. But then there was a sudden loud clicking, which turned out to be the Sensor they had with them that their brother Ty modified for ghosts. (Ty is a whole other fascinating topic, Sophie, but he will have to wait for another day.) TheyâI mean Shadowhunters in general, not just Julian and Emmaâare still using Henryâs demon Sensor invention all these years later!
The Sensor led us to the library. Emma seemed dubious.
âCome on,â she said to the Sensor. âIâm sure the Cirenworth library has been haunted for years.â
âNot to my knowledge,â Jem said. âAlthough there are houses in the English countryside where if you brought that thing inside it would howl like a police siren. Cirenworth has been well-maintained continually and the owners have always been very thorough about ghosts.â
Using a Sensor to find a ghost is not quite like using it to find a demon. You can tell youâve found a demon because, you knowâthe demon is standing there. With ghosts itâs much more a game of âhotterâ and âcolder,â and eventually we all agreed the clicking was loudest in front of one particular shelf. We took the books down from that shelf and lay them on the table and checked them with the Sensor, and the winner was a quarto book bound in leather. Nothing on the spine, but a quite beautiful compass rose etched into the front.
We opened it, and when I saw the inside, I gasped. And I knew I would be writing this new diary of mine, to you. You would know it yourselfâcramped, neat handwriting, with a strong leftward slant, and entirely in Spanish. It was your sonâs journal, of course. Thomasâs. My heart! My memories raced back to you holding him, such a small child (who grew to be such a tall broad-chested man!).
Emma was looking through it. This was the first sheâd heard of Thomas, perhaps (there are still Lightwoods around, never fear, but they live in New York), so of course she didnât have the sentimental reaction Jem and I did. âThe problem, of course,â she said, âis that my Spanish is terrible.â
So then Julian of course teased her a little, because Emmaâs best friend Cristina is from Mexico City. Emma said that was the problem, whenever she needed to read or say anything in Spanish Cristina could just help her.
âDo we need it translated?â Julian said. âWe donât know that it has anything to do with the curse or the ghost. The flask was just a flask as far as we know, right?â
Jem was shaking his head, though. He put the flask and dagger down next to the book and gave them a look. âI donât know if you realize it, but these three objects all come from the same era. The owners of all three were the same generation and almost the same age. They were all friends.â
And then I could see all of them in my mindâThomas, Matthew, Alastair, but also Christopher and Cordelia and my own James and Lucie. It was all so long ago, but I could call up their faces as though it were yesterday. As I can call up yours, Sophie. I looked at Jem and I could tell he was thinking the same thing, but all he said to Julian and Emma was, âIt canât be a coincidence. But Benedict Lightwood never knew any of them, heâd been dead for years by then. Are you sure heâs the one responsible for the curse?â
Emma said they were fairly sureâthat theyâd been reading a diary theyâd found in the house that spelled it out. Whose? Oh, Sophie, you have already guessed. Tatiana Blackthornâs.
âShe was about our age, I think,â Julian said. âMaybe a little younger. He told her about the curse and the objects.â
I think Emma saw the expression in my face and Jemâs. âDid theyâŚâ She touched the flask, the dagger, the book, one after the other. âMatthew, Alastair, Thomas, did they know Tatiana Blackthorn?â
âShe knew them,â Jem said darkly.
âShe hated them,â I explained. âShe hated all our familiesâthe Herondales, the Carstairs, the Fairchilds. And the other Lightwoods. She becameâŚrather more and more unpleasant as time went on. More and more obsessed, I might say, with harming us.â
Julian had been looking into the distance. Now he suddenly turned to take in the objects on the table. âShe changed the enchantment,â he said. âShe replaced some of the objects. Maybe all of them.â
Clever Julian! We all knew at once it was the likely answer.
âWhy, though?â said Emma. âMaybe some of the things Benedict used were lost.â
When Jem spoke, his voice was harder than Iâm used to hearing it. âI donât know how she comes across in her journal. When she was younger she was more mild. But in Tatianaâs heart was a terrible, grasping desire for power. For control. There need not have been anything wrong with Benedictâs curse, for Tatiana to have wanted to make it hers.â
He was right, my dear Sophie, and his words filled my heart with dread. Tatiana cannot hurt Juliana and Emma. She is long gone. But she reaches out from the years past to bring her evil even to today. Whomever this ghost is at Blackthorn Hall, I pray, at least, that it is no one that we loved.
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