Hi, I think there might be some that recognizes the name of this fanfiction. I published this story over a year ago and I wasn't pleased with how it had turned out so I deleted the old story and decided to change it. This new story will be a little bit like the old but overall it won't be the same story. If you have any questions, just ask! :)

A part of this/story/these/characters belongs to the lovely Cassandra Clare. The rest is from me.


England, the countryside, 1865

Emanuel woke up with a sudden jerk from his sleep. He'd had a nightmare that involved a strange kind of faeries, not the usual ones Mortmain spoke of but faeries with mighty, white wings. The angel-faeries had been dancing, whirling around in an endless circle of dance. Emanuel had been in the dream as well but he had felt a strong need to move into the inside of the circle but somehow he was aware that if the circle was broken, it would never be repaired again. Despite of Emanuel's awareness he had let go of the other two hands he'd been holding. Just at that very moment, the faeries evaporated into thin air, leaving behind a thick black fog, which made Emanuel cough until he was coughing up blood. Fortunately it had all just been a dream.

A loud hammering from door came and a dark voice shouted: "Up you go, the master wants you ready in his study in less then ten minutes."

It was Jack, Mortmain's current houseboy. He was one of the many mundane boys that was working for the master. Some months after doing work for Mortmain the mundane boys could disappear but if they behaved well, they could stay. Although they were never informed that work for Mortmain meant a matter of life or death. Emanuel on the other hand, was not one of the ill-fated boys. He was the fosterson of Mortmain.

"You asked for me?" Emanuel inquired. The grey-haired man whose name was Mortmain didn't look up from his papers, he never glanced up to see who it was that had entered the room. It gave Emanuel the indication that Mortmain wasn't eager to meet the person. But it was common of his foster-father to never give a person attention, the ten year-old boy knew that.

"10 years of raising you and it never falls into to you that you use with the word 'master' when you speak to me."

Emanuel hold in a sigh to say: "My apologizes, master."

Mortmain carried on with glaring down at his papers and franticly writing.

"Well, well…" The foster-father began; he raised his eyes to Emanuel who was standing there and still wearing his nightclothes. Mortmain's grey eyes squinted at the sight of Emanuel's nightclothes and it was an automatic reaction for Emanuel to look away. It was constantly difficult for him to look a person in the eye and it was even harder if the person was Mortmain.

"You have much to learn, I can tell…but I still find that you have reached the age to be given a task."

Emanuel's smiled, even if he could at rare times feel stings of vex towards Mortmain for being so harsh on him all Emanuel required was to prove his worth to the master.

"Your task includes a journey, to New York, where you must look for a family. This family hold a strong significance meaning to me and they mustn't know that you are there-"

"Why?" Emanuel interrupted.

Mortmain's cheeks turned red, he barked: "You mustn't disrupt me, young boy. You should be glad that you're even given a task."

The master had a way of making Emanuel feel less of a person and more as a foolish child but he deserved being barked at after all Mortmain was his only family in the world and the man was only trying to school him.

Silence loomed in the room while the two of them glared at one another. Emanuel kept howling to himself in his head to not less his gaze down, he desired to be like his foster-father. A man who'd never show weakness by lowering his head.

At last Mortmain hissed:

"Although I maybe was to quick to tell if you're capable of such serious matters. There is someone else that is more suiting for this kind of task."

Emanuel walked closer to the desk that separated the two. If the master would need Emanuel to beg for the task, he would. Even if it made him feel pathetic it was worth it.

"Master, I'm very sorry. My excitement took over. I've been waiting so long for you to give me a job or something to do, so I can help you with your cunning plan."

They exchanged stares again until Mortmain finally spoke: "Jack will go with you, he knows where you can find the family. I want you to look for the female infant in the family. Tell me if she looks healthy, report to me of how the family is treating her. You'll have a month."

Emanuel's heart was racing quicker now, he was on the verge of smiling foolishly until he reminded himself that he was still in front of the master, it wouldn't be appreciated. Even if traveling with Jack bothered him he was vivd now that he was more involved in the plan which also meant one step closer to the one thing that interlaced Mortmain's fate with Emanuel's fate. The plan.


"The Shadowhunters are your enemies." Those were the words Mortmain frequently reminded Emanuel of during the years of his upbringing. From the early years of understanding speech to Emanuel's early teens. The questing that constantly emerged from those words were why? And who were the Shadowhunters?

Emanuel would look back at his childhood as being separated from the world, forced to obey Mortmain without any contact from the other world. During rare accusations and for educational purposes Emanuel was allowed to travel with his foster-father to London. He would learn how to manipulate people whenever Mortmain had one of his "vital" meetings, he'd also teach Emanuel how to make others trust him and use them for one's own gain but it was never a matter of Emanuel's gain, rather Mortmain's gain. The minute Emanuel would question Mortmain's words the reaction from his foster-father resulted with a slap. It took a long while for Emanuel to understand and gasp why Mortmain's was making him work with the mechanical devices and to his luck, Emanuel was granted a teacher. One day, he had disappeared and Emanuel had grown old enough to realize that not he shouldn't ask where the teacher was, so he pretended that the man had never existed.

Life was harsh and tedious for Emanuel Holt but the day came when Mortmain explained his plan, the reasons behind it and why he'd constantly remind Emanuel of the horrible Shadowhunters.


England, London, 1868

"Shall I serve the breakfast now or do you prefer to wait?" The butler Molin asked. Emanuel was deeply intrigued in his books and journals that he didn't hear. Molin gave a soft humming sound.

"Ah, yes, I'll have it now." answered Emanuel.

Molin bowed and left the room. Emanuel went back to his journal. He was looking at a skiss of an automaton. Emanuel had scribbled out different parts of it's frame, Mortmain had given him the great honor to name the different anatomic-like parts of their creatures. In the automatons' joints were spherical plain bearings so they could move easily. Emanuel, himself had come up with the genius plan to wire the plain bearings there but the skiss had been handed to him from Mortmain's hand. It belonged to a dear friend of his, "a very curious inventor", Mortmain had said. His name was Eric and he'd come from the New World to showcase his inventions, unluckily he'd been killed by Shadowhunters. Eric fell in the pile of people dear to Mortmain that had fallen under the sword from a Shadowhunter. It was clear and righteous that the master desired revenge, Emanuel thought, and what more cunning revenge was there than the plan Mortmain had created.

"The breakfast, sir." Molin had creaked up on Emanuel. The butler made Emanuel uncomfortable, he always showed up too soon whenever he was called upon and his intrusive eyes gave shivers up Emanuels' spine, almost as if the butler never let his eyes leave the sight of him. At times, Emanuel asked himself if Mortmain ever hired Molin so he could spy on Emanuel.

"You may leave it on the desk."

Molin did as he'd been told and left. On the plate was scrambled eggs, Emanuel's favorite, and beans, not really Emanuel's favorite but he dug into to the food and carried wondering if he should make some new changes to the automation. Maybe he ought to use another alloy for its arms, the change could be more useful and produce a more heavy knockout to its opponent. Emanuel settled on taking one of the unfinished automatons to the workshop located in the basement after he finished his breakfast.


John walked around the table to examine the automaton further, Emanuel stood by impatiently watching and stamping his foot lightly on the floor. John was one of the few men that Mortmain had picked out to work for him, John was cunning and curious but the trait that stood out the most was his loyalty. Mortmain had mentioned to Emanuel that during one of Mortmains' trips to a repair yard, one of the horses that was enchained to the carriage and standing infront of Mortmain had lifted up its hooves and just before it landed on Emanuel's foster-father John had pushed him aside and injured himself severely by saving the master.

Emanuel would have enjoyed operating with John if it had not been for his strange interest in performing experiments on vampires, faeries, warlocks and werewolves. Sometimes he'd wake up from the shrieks from the basement, and feel a need to end John's life so the creatures wouldn't suffer anymore but Mortmain would end Emanuels' life if he'd ever do such a thing. Besides Emanuel had tried saving them once and it ended up in a mess and a lot of deaths.

"We could try mixing aluminum with iron but I'm afraid the iron would just make it heavier and slower." John blurted out.

"Trying wouldn't hurt?" enquired Emanuel.

John nodded, saying:"I enjoy your philosophies as a scientist." How could such a horrible man act out as if he's a good man?

"Tell Molin to come to me when you're finished." Emanuel uttered and left the room as fast as he could.