Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices #1)

Tessa felt the hairs on her arms rise, and was uncomfortably aware of the eyes of everyone in the room on her. “What—what did he say about me?”

“I was utterly taken off guard,” said Nate. “I didn’t recall having discussed you with him, ever, but I had been drunk so many times at the club, and we had spoken very freely. . . .” The teacup in his hand rattled in its saucer; he set them both down, hard. “I asked him what he could possibly want with my sister. He told me that he had reason to know that one of my mother’s children was . . . special. He had thought it might be me, but having had leisure to observe me, the only thing unusual about me was my foolishness.” Nate’s tone was bitter. “‘But your sister, your sister is something else again,’ he told me. ‘She has all the power you do not. I have no intention of harming her. She is far too important.’

“I spluttered and begged for more information, but he was unyielding. Either I procured Tessa for him, or I would die. He even told me what it was I had to do.”

Tessa exhaled slowly. “De Quincey told you to write me that letter,” she said. “He had you send me the tickets for the Main. He had you bring me here.”

Nate’s eyes pleaded with her to understand. “He swore he wouldn’t hurt you. He told me all he wanted was to teach you to use your power. He told me you’d be honored and wealthy beyond imagining—”

“Well, that’s just fine, then,” interrupted Will. “It’s not as if there are more important things than money.” His eyes were blazing with indignation; Jem looked no less disgusted.

“It’s not Nate’s fault!” Jessamine snapped. “Didn’t you hear him? De Quincey would have killed him. And he knew who Nate was, where he came from; he would have found Tessa eventually anyway, and Nate would have died for no reason.”

“So that’s your objective ethical opinion, is it, Jess?” Will said. “And I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been drooling over Tessa’s brother since he arrived. Any mundane will do, I suppose, no matter how useless—”

Jessamine let out an indignant squawk, and rose to her feet. Charlotte, her voice rising, tried to quiet them both as they shouted at each other, but Tessa had stopped listening; she was looking at Nate.

She had known for some time her brother was weak, that what her aunt had called innocence was really spoiled pettish childishness; that being a boy, the firstborn, and beautiful, Nate had always been the prince of his own tiny kingdom. She had understood that, while it had been his job as older brother to protect her, really it had always been she, and her aunt, who had protected him.

But he was her brother; she loved him; and the old protectiveness rose in her, as it always did where Nate was concerned, and probably always would. “Jessamine’s right,” she said, raising her voice to cut through the angry voices in the room. “It wouldn’t have done him any good to refuse de Quincey, and there’s no point arguing about it now. We still need to know what de Quincey’s plans are. Do you know, Nate? Did he tell you what he wanted with me?”

Nate shook his head. “Once I agreed to send for you, he kept me trapped in his town house. He had me send a letter to Mortmain, of course, resigning from his employment; the poor man must have thought I was throwing his generosity back in his face. De Quincey wasn’t planning on taking his eyes off me until he had you in hand, Tessie; I was his insurance. He gave the Dark Sisters my ring to prove to you that I was in their power. He promised me over and over that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he was simply having the Sisters teach you to use your power. The Dark Sisters reported on your progress every day, so I knew you were still alive.

“Since I was there in the house anyway, I found myself observing the workings of the Pandemonium Club. I saw that there was an organization to the ranks. There were those who were very low down, clinging to the fringes, like Mortmain and his ilk. De Quincey and the higher-ups mostly kept them around because they had money, and they teased them with little glimpses of magic and the Shadow World to keep them coming back for more. Then there were those such as the Dark Sisters and others, those who had more power and responsibility in the club. They were all supernatural creatures, no humans. And then, at the top, was de Quincey. The others called him the Magister.

“They often held meetings to which the humans and those lower down weren’t invited. That was where I first heard about Shadowhunters. De Quincey despises Shadowhunters,” Nate said, turning to Henry and Charlotte. “He has a grudge against them—against you. He kept talking about how much better things would be when Shadowhunters were destroyed and Downworlders could live and trade in peace—”

“What tosh.” Henry looked genuinely offended. “Don’t know what kind of peace he thinks there’d be, without Shadowhunters.”

“He talked about how there’d never been a way to defeat Shadowhunters before because their weapons were so superior. He said the legend was that God had meant the Nephilim to be superior warriors, so no living creature could destroy them. So, apparently he thought, ‘Why not a creature who wasn’t living at all?’”

“The automatons,” said Charlotte. “His machine army.”

Nate looked puzzled. “You’ve seen them?”

“A few of them attacked your sister last night,” said Will. “Fortunately, we Shadowhunter monsters were around to save her.”

“Not that she was doing too badly by herself,” Jem murmured.

“Do you know anything about the machines?” Charlotte demanded, leaning forward eagerly. “Anything at all? Did de Quincey ever talk about them in front of you?”

Nate shrank back in his chair. “He did, but I didn’t understand most of it. I don’t have a mechanical mind, really—”

“It’s simple.” It was Henry, using the tone of someone trying to calm a frightened cat. “Right now these machines of de Quincey’s just run on mechanisms. They have to be wound up, like clocks. But we found a copy of a spell in his library that indicates that he’s trying to find a way to make them live, a way to bind demon energy to the clockwork shell and bring it to life.”

“Oh, that! Yes, he talked about that,” Nathaniel replied, like a child pleased to be able to give the right answer in a schoolroom. Tessa could practically see the ears of the Shadowhunters pricking up with excitement. This was what they really wanted to know. “That’s what he hired the Dark Sisters for—not just for training Tessa. They’re warlocks, you know, and they were meant to be figuring out how it could be done. And they did. It wasn’t long ago—a few weeks—but they did.”

“They did?” Charlotte looked shocked. “But, then why hasn’t de Quincey done it yet? What’s he waiting for?”

Nate looked from her anxious face to Tessa’s, and all around the room. “I—I thought you knew. He said the binding charm could only be generated at the full moon. When that happens, the Dark Sisters will get to work, and then—he’s got dozens of the things stored in his hideaway, and I know he plans to make many more—hundreds, thousands, perhaps. I suppose he’ll animate them, and . . .”

“The full moon?” Charlotte, glancing toward the window, bit her lip. “That will be very soon—tomorrow night, I think.”

Jem straightened up like a shot. “I can check the lunar tables in the library. I’ll be right back.” He vanished through the door.

Charlotte turned to Nate. “You’re quite sure about this?”