Tessa's father had been a fallen angel, one of the kings of demons. So the boy had inherited something from his mother as well as his father, then. Magnus saw a shadow coalescing once more into flesh. What he did see was white fingers suddenly clenched on the brim of the policeman's helmet, the turn of James Herondale's head, darkness replaced with the tilt of his slowly appearing grin. Magnus heard the sound of its rushing swiftness rather than saw it, the dark waters at one with the night. They ran down street after street, Magnus and the darkness, until the Thames barred their path. A Shadowhunter who could turn into a shadow? Magnus turned and bolted after the bobbing policeman's helmet, held aloft only by a taunting darkness. Magnus considered pausing to help him, but there was being a soft touch, and then there was being ridiculous enough to not pursue a most enticing mystery. "You can find far more flattering headgear at any shop in Bond Street." He stumbled forward, hands fumbling blindly in the air to retrieve what was long gone. The policeman gave a shout of surprise as his helmet was whisked away by unseen hands.
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