Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices #1)

Nate nodded, swallowing hard. “When Tessa escaped from the Dark Sisters, de Quincey blamed me, even though I hadn’t known anything about it. He told me he was going to let the Night Children drain my blood as a punishment. He kept me imprisoned for days before the party. He didn’t care what he said in front of me then. He knew I was going to die. I heard him talking about how the Sisters had mastered the binding spell. That it wasn’t going to be long before the Nephilim were destroyed, and all the members of the Pandemonium Club could rule London in their stead.”

Will spoke, his voice harsh. “Have you any idea where de Quincey might be hiding now that his house has burned?”

Nate looked exhausted. “He has a hideaway in Chelsea. He would have gone to ground there with those who are loyal to him—there are still probably a hundred vampires of his clan who weren’t at the town house that night. I know exactly where the place is. I can show you on a map—” He broke off as Jem burst into the room, his eyes very wide.

“It’s not tomorrow,” Jem said. “The full moon. It’s tonight.”





17

CALL THE DARKNESS DOWN


The old church tower and garden wall

Are black with autumn rain,

And dreary winds foreboding call

The darkness down again.

—Emily Bront?, “The Old Church Tower”

While Charlotte dashed to the library to notify the Enclave that emergency action would need to be taken that evening, Henry remained in the drawing room with Nathaniel and the others. He was surprisingly patient as Nate painstakingly indicated on a map of London the spot where he believed de Quincey’s hideaway to be—a house in Chelsea, near the Thames. “I don’t know which one it is exactly,” Nate said, “so you’ll have to be careful.”

“We are always careful,” Henry said, ignoring Will’s wry look in his direction. Not long after that, however, he sent Will and Jem to the weapons room with Thomas to ready a stock of seraph blades and other armaments. Tessa remained in the drawing room with Jessamine and Nate while Henry hurried off to the crypt to retrieve some of his more recent inventions.

As soon as the others had gone, Jessamine commenced fluttering around Nate—building up the fire for him, going to fetch another blanket to wrap around his shoulders, and offering to find a book to read aloud to him, which he declined. If Jessamine was hoping to win Nate’s heart by fussing over him, Tessa thought, she would be in for a disappointment. Nate expected to be fussed over and would hardly notice her special attentions.

“So what’s going to happen now?” he asked finally, half-buried under a mound of blankets. “Mr. and Mrs. Branwell—”

“Oh, call them Henry and Charlotte. Everyone does,” Jessamine said.

“They’ll be notifying the Enclave—that’s all the rest of London’s Shadowhunters—of the location of de Quincey’s hideaway, so they can plan an attack,” said Tessa. “But really, Nate, you shouldn’t be worrying about these things. You should be resting.”

“So it’ll just be us.” Nate’s eyes were closed. “In this big old place. Seems strange.”

“Oh, Will and Jem won’t be going with them,” said Jessamine. “I heard her talking to them in the weapons room when I went to get the blanket.”

Nate’s eyes opened. “They won’t?” He sounded astonished. “Why not?”

“They’re too young,” said Jessamine. “Shadowhunters are considered adults at eighteen, and for this kind of undertaking—something dangerous that the whole Enclave is participating in—they tend to leave the younger ones at home.”

Tessa felt a strange little pang of relief, which she covered by asking hurriedly, “But that’s so odd. They let Will and Jem go to de Quincey’s—”

“And that’s why they can’t go now. Apparently, Benedict Lightwood is arguing that the raid on de Quincey’s turned out as badly as it did because Will and Jem are insufficiently trained, though how any of it was meant to be Jem’s fault, I’m not sure. If you ask me, he wants an excuse to make Gabriel stay at home, even though he’s already eighteen. He babies him horribly. Charlotte said he told her that there have been whole Enclaves wiped out in a single night before, and the Nephilim have an obligation to leave the younger generation standing, to carry on, as it were.”

Tessa’s stomach twisted. Before she could say anything, the door opened and Thomas came in. He was carrying a stack of folded clothes. “These are old things of Master Jem’s,” he said to Nate, looking slightly embarrassed. “It looks like you might be about the same size, and, well, you ought to have something to wear. If you’ll accompany me back to your room, we can see if they fit.”

Jessamine rolled her eyes. Tessa wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she thought castoffs weren’t good enough for Nate.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Nate said, rising to his feet. “And I must tender my apologies for my earlier behavior, when I, ah, hid from you. I must have been feverish. That’s the only explanation.”

Thomas flushed. “Just doing my job, sir.”

“Perhaps you should get some sleep,” Tessa said, noting the dark rings of exhaustion around her brother’s eyes. “There won’t be much for us to do now, not until they return.”

“Actually,” Nate said, looking from Jessamine to Tessa, “I think I’ve had enough of rest. A fellow ought to get back on his feet eventually, oughtn’t he? I could stand to eat a bite of something, and I wouldn’t mind some company. If you wouldn’t mind my joining you here once I’m dressed?”

“Of course not!” Jessamine looked delighted. “I’ll ask Agatha to prepare something light. And perhaps a game of cards to keep us occupied after we eat. Sandwiches and tea, I think.” She clapped her hands together as Thomas and Nate left the room, and turned to Tessa, her eyes bright. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Cards?” Tessa, who had been shocked nearly speechless by Jessamine’s suggestion, found her voice. “You think we ought to play cards? While Henry and Charlotte are off fighting de Quincey?”

Jessamine tossed her head. “As if our moping around would help them! I’m sure they’d rather we were cheerful and active in their absence rather than idle and morose.”

Tessa frowned. “I really don’t think,” she said, “that suggesting cards to Nate was a kind idea, Jessamine. You know perfectly well he has . . . trouble . . . with gambling.”

“We’re not going to gamble,” Jessamine said airily. “Just a friendly game of cards. Really, Tessa, must you be such a wet blanket?”

“A what? Jessamine, I know you’re only trying to keep Nate happy. But this isn’t the way—”

“And I suppose you’ve mastered the art of winning men’s affections?” Jessamine snapped, her brown eyes sparking with anger. “You think I haven’t seen you looking at Will with puppy-dog eyes? As if he were even—Oh!” She threw up her hands. “Never mind. You make me sick. I’m going to talk to Agatha without you.” With that, she rose to her feet and flounced out of the room, pausing in the doorway only to say “And I know you don’t care how you look, but you ought to at least fix your hair, Tessa. It looks like birds are living in it!” before the door slammed shut behind her.



Silly as Tessa knew it was, Jessamine’s words stung. She hastened back to her room to splash water on her face and run a hairbrush through her tangled hair. Looking at her own white face in the mirror, she tried not to wonder if she still looked like the sister Nate remembered. Tried not to imagine how she might have changed.

Finished, she hurried out into the corridor—and nearly walked directly into Will, who was leaning against the corridor wall opposite her door, examining his nails. With his usual disregard for manners, he was in shirtsleeves, and over the shirt was a series of leather straps crisscrossing his chest. Across his back hung a long, thin blade; she could see the hilt of it just over his shoulder. Thrust through his belt were several long, thin white seraph blades.