Clockwork Prince(13)
Author: Cassandra Clare

"Put her in a cage, I say, and let the groundlings stare at her for pennies," said Nate, and suddenly the bars of a cage sprang up around her and he was laughing at her from the other side, his pretty face twisted up in scorn. Henry was there too, shaking his head. "I’ve taken her all apart," he said, "and I can’t see what makes that heart of hers beat. Still, it’s quite a curiosity, isn’t it?" He opened his hand, and there was something red and fleshy on his palm, pulsing and contracting like a fish flipped out of water, gasping for air. "See how it’s divided into two quite equal parts-"

"Tess," a voice came, urgently, in her ear. "Tess, you’re dreaming. Wake up. Wake up." Hands were on her shoulders, shaking her; her eyes flew open, and she was gasping in her ugly gray dimly lit bedroom at the York Institute. The covers were tangled around her, and her nightgown stuck to her back with sweat. Her skin felt as if it were burning. She still saw the Dark Sisters, saw Nate laughing at her, Henry dissecting her heart.

"It was a dream?" she said. "It felt so real, so utterly real-"

She broke off.

"Will," she whispered. He still wore his dinner clothes, though they were rumpled, his black hair tangled, as if he had fal en asleep without changing for bed. His hands remained on her shoulders, warming her cold skin through the material of her nightgown.

"What did you dream?" he said. His tone was calm and ordinary, as if there were nothing unusual about her waking up and finding him sitting on the edge of her bed.

She shuddered at the memory. "I dreamed I was being taken apart-that bits of me were being put on display for Shadowhunters to laugh at-"

"Tess." He touched her hair gently, pushing the tangled locks behind her ears. She felt pulled to him, like iron filings to a magnet. Her arms ached to go around him, her head to rest in the crook of his shoulder. "God damn that devil Starkweather for showing you what he did, but you must know it’s not like that anymore. The Accords have forbidden spoils. It was just a dream."

But no, she thought. This is the dream. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark; the gray light in the room made his eyes glow an almost unearthly blue, like a cat’s. When she drew a shuddering breath, her lungs felt fil ed with the scent of him, Will and salt and trains and smoke and rain, and she wondered if he had been out, walking the streets of York as he did in London. "Where have you been?" she whispered. "You smel like nighttime."

"Out kicking over the traces. As usual." He touched her cheek with warm, call used fingers. "Can you sleep now? We’re meant to rise early tomorrow.

Starkweather is lending us his carriage so that we might investigate Ravenscar Manor. You, of course, are welcome to remain here. You need not accompany us."

She shuddered. "Stay here without you? In this big, gloomy place? I would prefer not to."

"Tess." His voice was ever so gentle. "That must have been quite a nightmare, to have taken the spirit out of you so. Usual y you are not afraid of much."

"It was awful. Even Henry was in my dream. He was taking apart my heart as if it were made of clockwork."

"Well, that settles it," Will said. "Pure fantasy. As if Henry is a danger to anyone except himself." When she didn’t smile, he added, fiercely, "I would never let anyone touch a hair on your head. You know that, don’t you, Tess?"

Their gazes caught and locked. She thought of the wave that seemed to catch at her whenever she was near Will, how she had felt herself drawn over and under, pulled to him by forces that seemed beyond her control-in the attic, on the roof of the Institute. As if he felt the same pull, he bent toward her now. It felt natural, as right as breathing, to lift her head, to meet his lips with hers. She felt his soft exhalation against her mouth; relief, as if a great weight had been taken from him. His hands rose to cup her face. Even as her eyes fluttered shut, she heard his voice in her head, again, unbidden: There is no future for a Shadowhunter who dallies with warlocks.

She turned her face quickly, and his lips brushed her cheek instead of her mouth. He drew back, and she saw his blue eyes open, startled-and hurt.

"No," she said. "No, I don’t know that, Will." She dropped her voice. "You have made it very clear," she said, "what kind of use you have for me. You think I am a toy for your amusements. You should not have come in here; it is not proper."

He dropped his hands. "You called out-"

"Not for you."

He was silent except for his ragged breathing.

"Do you regret what you said to me that night on the roof, Will ? The night of Thomas’s and Agatha’s funeral?" It was the first time either of them had made reference to the incident since it had happened. "Can you tell me you did not mean what you said?"

He bent his head; his hair fell forward, hiding his face. She clenched her own hands into fists at her sides to stop herself from reaching out and pushing it back. "No," he said, very low. "No, the Angel forgive me, I can’t say that."

Tessa withdrew, curling in on herself, turning her face away. "Please go away, Will."

"Tessa-"

"Please."

There was a long silence. He stood up then, the bed creaking beneath him as he moved. She heard his light tread on the floorboards, and then the door of the bedroom shutting behind him. As if the sound had snapped some cord that held her upright, she fell back against the pil ows. She stared up at the ceiling a long time, fighting back in vain against the questions that crowded her mind-What had Will meant, coming to her room like that? Why had he shown her such sweetness when she knew that he despised her? And why, when she knew that he was the worst thing in the world for her, did sending him away seem like such a terrible mistake?

The next morning dawned unexpectedly blue and beautiful, a balm to Tessa’s aching head and exhausted body. After dragging herself from the bed, where she had spent most of the night tossing and turning, she dressed herself, unable to bear the thought of assistance from one of the ancient, half-blind maidservants. As she did up the buttons on her jacket, she caught sight of herself in the room’s old, splotched mirror. There were half-moons of shadow under her eyes, as if they had been smudged there with chalk.

Will and Jem had already gathered in the morning room for a breakfast of half-burned toast, weak tea, jam, and no butter. By the time Tessa arrived, Jem had already eaten, and Will was busy cutting his toast into thin strips and forming rude pictographs out of them.

"What is that supposed to be?" Jem asked curiously. "It looks almost like a -" He glanced up, saw Tessa, and broke off with a grin. "Good morning."

"Good morning." She slid into the seat across from Will ; he glanced up at her once as she sat, but there was nothing in his eyes or expression to indicate that he recal ed that anything had passed between them the night before.

Jem looked at her with concern. "Tessa, how are you feeling? After last night-" He broke off then, his voice rising, "Good morning, Mr.

Starkweather," he said hastily, jostling Will ‘s shoulder hard so that Will dropped his fork, and the toast bits slid all over his plate.

Mr. Starkweather, who had swept into the room, still wrapped in the dark cloak he had worn the night before, regarded him baleful y. "The carriage is waiting for you in the courtyard," he said, his clipped diction as tight as ever.

"You’d better cut a stick if you want to get back before dinnertime; I’ll be needing the carriage this evening. I’ve told Gottshal to drop you straight at the station on your return, no need for lingering. I trust you’ve gotten everything you need."

It wasn’t a question. Jem nodded. "Yes, sir. You’ve been very gracious."

Starkweather’s eyes swept over Tessa again, one last time, before he turned and stalked out of the room, his cloak flapping behind him. Tessa couldn’t get the image of a great black bird of prey-a vulture, perhaps-out of her mind. She thought of the trophy cases full of "spoils," and shuddered.

"Eat quickly, Tessa, before he changes his mind about the carriage," Will advised her, but Tessa shook her head.

"I’m not hungry."

"At least have tea." Will poured it out for her, and ladled milk and sugar into it; it was much sweeter than Tessa would have liked, but it was so rare that Will made a kind gesture like that-even if it was just to hurry her along-that she drank it down anyway, and managed a few bites of toast. The boys went for their coats and the baggage; Tessa’s traveling cloak, hat, and gloves were located, and they soon found themselves on the front steps of the York Institute, blinking in the watery sunlight.

Starkweather had been as good as his word. His carriage was there, waiting for them, the four Cs of the Clave painted across the door. The old coachman with the long white beard and hair was already in the driver’s seat, smoking a cheroot; he tossed it aside when he saw the three of them, and sank down farther in his seat, his black eyes glaring out from beneath his drooping eyelids.

"Bloody hell, it’s the Ancient Mariner again," said Will, though he seemed more entertained than anything else. He swung himself up into the carriage and helped Tessa in after him; Jem was last, shutting the door behind him and leaning out the window to call to the coachman to drive on. Tessa, settling herself in beside Will on the narrow seat, felt her shoulder brush his; he tensed immediately, and she moved away, biting her lip. It was as if last night had never happened and he were back to behaving as if she were poison.

The carriage began moving with a jerk that nearly flung Tessa into Will again, but she braced herself against the window and stayed where she was.

The three of them were silent as the carriage rol ed down narrow, cobbled Stonegate Street, under a wide sign advertising the Old Star Inn. Both Jem and Will were quiet, Will reviving only to tell her with a ghoulish glee that they were passing through the old wal s, under the city entrance where once traitors’ heads had been displayed on spikes. Tessa made a face at him but gave no reply.

Once they had passed the wal s, the city quickly gave way to countryside.

The landscape was not gentle and rol ing, but harsh and forbidding. Green hil s dotted with gray gorse swept up into crags of dark rock. Long lines of mortarless stone wal s, meant for keeping in sheep, crisscrossed the green; here and there was dotted the occasional lonely cottage. The sky seemed an endless expanse of blue, brushed with the strokes of long gray clouds.

Tessa could not have said how long they had been traveling when the stone chimneys of a large manor house rose in the distance. Jem stuck his head out the window again and called to the driver; the carriage came to a rol ing stop.

"But we’re not there yet," said Tessa, puzzled. "If that’s Ravenscar Manor -"

"We can’t just rol right up to the front door; be sensible, Tess," said Will as Jem leaped out of the carriage and reached up to help Tessa down. Her boots plashed into the wet, muddy ground as she landed; Will dropped down lightly beside her. "We need to get a look at the place. Use Henry’s device to register demonic presence. Make sure we’re not walking into a trap."

"Does Henry’s device actual y work?" Tessa lifted her skirts to keep them out of the mud as the three of them started down the road. Glancing back, she saw the coachman apparently already asleep, leaning back in the driver’s seat with his hat tipped forward over his face. all around them the countryside was a patchwork of gray and green-hil s rising starkly; their sides pitted with gray shale; flat sheep-cropped grass; and here and there copses of gnarled, entwined trees. There was a severe beauty to it all, but Tessa shuddered at the idea of living here, so far away from anything.

Jem, seeing her shudder, gave a sideways smile. "City lass."

Tessa laughed. "I was thinking how odd it would be to grow up in a place like this, so far from any people."

"Where I grew up was not so different from this," said Will unexpectedly, startling them both. "It’s not so lonely as you might think. Out in the countryside, you can be assured, people visit one another a great deal. They just have a greater distance to traverse than they might in London. And once they arrive, they often make a lengthy stay. After all, why make the trip just to stay a night or two? We’d often have house guests who’d remain for weeks."

Tessa goggled at Will silently. It was so rare that he ever referred to anything regarding his early life that she sometimes thought of him as someone with no past at all. Jem seemed to be doing the same thing, though he recovered first.

"I share Tessa’s view. I have never lived in anything but a city. I don’t know how I could sleep at night, not knowing I was surrounded by a thousand other sleeping, dreaming souls."

"And filth everywhere, and everyone breathing down one another’s necks,"

countered Will. "When I first arrived in London, I so quickly tired of being surrounded by so many people that it was only with great difficulty that I refrained from seizing the next unfortunate who crossed my path and committing violent acts upon their person."

"Some might say you retain that problem," said Tessa, but Will just laughed-a short, nearly surprised sound of amusement-and then stopped, looking ahead of them to Ravenscar Manor.

Jem whistled as Tessa realized why she had been able to see only the tops of the chimneys before. The manor was built in the center of a deep declivity between three hil s; their slanting sides rose about it, cradling it as if in the palm of a hand. Tessa, Jem, and Will were poised on the edge of one of the hil s, looking down at the manor. The building itself was very grand, a great gray stone pile that gave the impression it had been there for centuries.

A large circular drive curved in front of the enormous front doors. Nothing about the place hinted at abandonment or disrepair-no weeds grew over the drive or the paths that led to the stone outbuildings, and no glass was missing from the mul ioned windows.

"Someone’s living here," said Jem, echoing Tessa’s thoughts. He began to start down the hill. The grass here was longer, waving almost waist-high.