Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices #1)(80)
Author: Cassandra Clare

A dark shadow loomed in the lit doorway. It was Thomas, tousle-haired and serious, who went without a word to kneel down by Will. Together they lifted Jem to his feet, an arm slung around each of their shoulders. They hurried inside without a backward glance.

Dazed, Tessa looked out over the courtyard. Something was strange, different. It was the sudden silence after all the clamor and noise. The destroyed clockwork creatures lay in shattered pieces about the courtyard, the ground was slick with viscous fluid, the gates hung open, and the moon shone blankly down on everything just as it had shone down on her and Jem on the bridge, when he had told her that she was human.

15

FOREIGN MUD

Ah God, that love were as a flower or flame,

That life were as the naming of a name,

That death were not more pitiful than desire,

That these things were not one thing and the same!

—Algernon Charles Swinburne, “Laus Veneris”

“Miss Tessa.” The voice was Sophie’s. Tessa turned and saw her framed in the doorway, a lantern swinging from her hand. “Are you all right?”

Tessa felt pitifully grateful to see the other girl. She had been feeling so alone. “I’m not hurt. Henry has gone after the creatures, though, and Charlotte—”

“They’ll be just fine.” Sophie put a hand on Tessa’s elbow. “Come, let’s get you inside, miss. You’re bleeding.”

“I am?” Puzzled, Tessa put her fingers up to touch her forehead; they came away stained red. “I must have struck my head when I fell against the steps. I didn’t even feel it.”

“Shock,” Sophie said calmly, and Tessa thought how many times in her employment here Sophie must have done these things—bandaged up cuts, wiped away blood. “Come along, and I’ll get a compress for your head.”

Tessa nodded. With a last glance over her shoulder at the destruction in the courtyard, she let Sophie guide her back inside the Institute. The next short while was something of a blur. After Sophie helped her upstairs and into an armchair in the drawing room, she bustled off and returned moments later with Agatha, who pressed a cup of something hot into Tessa’s hand.

Tessa knew what it was the moment she smelled it—brandy and water. She thought of Nate and hesitated, but once she’d had a few mouthfuls, things began to swim back into focus. Charlotte and Henry returned, bringing with them the smell of metal and fighting. Tight-lipped, Charlotte set her weapons down on a table and called for Will. He didn’t respond, but Thomas did, hurrying down the corridor, his coat stained with blood, to tell her that Will was with Jem, and that Jem was going to be all right.

“The creatures injured him, and he lost some blood,” Thomas said, running a hand through his tangled brown hair. He looked at Sophie as he said it. “But Will gave him an iratze—”

“And his medicine?” Sophie asked quickly. “Has he had some of that?”

Thomas nodded, and the tight set of Sophie’s shoulders relaxed just a bit. Charlotte’s gaze softened as well. “Thank you, Thomas,” she said. “Perhaps you can see if he requires anything else?”

Thomas nodded, and set off back down the corridor with a last glance over his shoulder at Sophie, who did not seem to notice. Charlotte sank down onto the ottoman opposite Tessa. “Tessa, can you tell us what happened?”

Clutching the cup, her fingers cold despite its heat, Tessa shuddered. “Did you catch the ones that escaped? The—whatever they are. The metal monsters?”

Charlotte shook her head gravely. “We pursued them through the streets, but they disappeared once we reached Hungerford Bridge. Henry thinks there was some magic involved.”

“Or a secret tunnel,” Henry said. “I did also suggest a secret tunnel, my dear.” He looked at Tessa. His friendly face was streaked with blood and oil, his brightly striped waistcoat slashed and torn. He looked like a schoolboy who’d been in a bad scrape of some sort. “Did you see them coming out of a tunnel, perhaps, Miss Gray?”

“No,” Tessa said, her voice half a whisper. To clear her throat, she took another sip of the drink Agatha had given her, and set the cup down before running through it all—the bridge, the coachman, the chase, the words the creature had spoken, the way they had burst through the Institute gates. Charlotte listened with a pinched white face; even Henry looked grim. Sophie, sitting quietly on a chair, attended to the story with the grave intensity of a schoolgirl.

“They said it was a declaration of war,” Tessa finished. “That they were coming to wreak revenge on us—on you, I suppose—for what happened to de Quincey.”

“And the creature referred to him as the Magister?” Charlotte asked.

Tessa pressed her lips together firmly to keep them from trembling. “Yes. He said the Magister wanted me and that he had been sent to retrieve me. Charlotte, this is my fault. If it weren’t for me, de Quincey wouldn’t have sent those creatures tonight, and Jem—” She looked down at her hands. “Maybe you should just let him have me.”

Charlotte was shaking her head. “Tessa, you heard de Quincey last night. He hates Shadowhunters. He would strike at the Clave regardless of you. And if we gave you to him, all we would be doing is placing a potentially valuable weapon in his hands.” She looked at Henry. “I wonder why he waited this long. Why not come for Tessa when she was out with Jessie? Unlike demons, these clockwork creatures can go out during the day.”

“They can,” said Henry, “but not without alarming the populace—not yet. They don’t look enough like ordinary human beings to pass without exciting comment.” He took a shining gear from his pocket and held it up. “I examined the remains of the automatons down in the courtyard. These ones de Quincey sent after Tessa on the bridge are not like the one in the crypt. They’re more sophisticated, made of tougher metals, and with a more advanced jointure. Someone’s been working on the design in those blueprints Will found, refining it. The creatures are faster now, and deadlier.”

But how refined? “There was a spell,” Tessa said quickly. “On the blueprint. Magnus deciphered it… .”

“The binding spell. Meant to tie a demon energy to an automaton.” Charlotte looked at Henry. “Did de Quincey—?”

“Succeed in performing it?” Henry shook his head. “No. Those creatures are simply configured to follow a pattern, like music boxes. But they are not animate. They do not have intelligence or will or life. And there is nothing demonic about them.”