This is quite literally me, my Midsummer Knights Dream pet, Magnus ;) [head over to www DOT fantasypuppet DOT com and see how freakin' awesome they are!], and Cassie Clare's literary genius: Clockwork Angel. I sadly do not have a beta. :( For reference every bold word belongs to Cassie and those people that get some money from the book, like the cover artist, and everything else is mine. :)

Set after CoG before anything else major happens. When that is? I don't know we'll have to wait until April… Are you as excited as I am?

Yes I list this in crossover seeing as… hmmm the TMI gang is reading about the TID gang. Makes sense to me. So if it doesn't to you… Sucks. *shrugs*

I do NOT own TMI or TID or HP or the Library of Congress… oh drat. ;) I did include the full version of Thames River Song for those who may not have read it yet.

.o.O.o.

I sighed smashing my head against one of the library's tables. There was positively nothing to do. Now that that man who I still refuse to call father was dead even training didn't seem as if it mattered quite as much. Sure, there were still demons, but it just didn't seem as bad, ya know? Things were fine. Malec was going great. Simon and Maia were now "just friends," and it seemed like they would stay that way. Dear Angel please let that be the end of it. Those two would be the death of Isabelle, and in turn everyone else near her. Thankfully Simon got off whatever he was on and decided that he loved Izzy after all. Not like we hadn't been thinking that all along idiot.

My brain kept flying about the past few months, after the battle… and after the party. Mom and Luke were going to be married, life was great. Now what on Earth am I supposed to do? I honestly could not see any of us just taking on a few demons when they showed up. It seemed too normal for those who had just saved the entire world. It was just strange to not be in fear of something.

I started to walk amongst the books in the library. Sure, someone might get hurt by a demon, but I could fix them up in no time. And if I couldn't, Magnus could. I glanced at titles of books. All of them seemed so boring. All of them were full of facts on demons, how to kill them, or on various downworlder species. I know because I had read most of them.

I walked down another aisle of books no one ever bothered to look at after another. I mean really, why did we have these things anymore? That's when it hit me. It was just like the Library of Congress, just with no interesting books what so ever. Almost as if the library was talking back a book caught my eye. It didn't have a title. That's odd.

I grabbed the book and was surprised. There was nothing in it. And I don't mean it was full of blank pages like Riddle's diary from Harry Potter, I mean there were no pages. It was just like someone took the book and ripped the binding out all together. That's certainly strange. I looked back to the shelf to see if it was just old and somehow my disturbing it had caused this, but no such luck. I removed the books around it and found a big load of nothing.

Well, I thought, two can play this game. I pulled out my stele and began to draw on the self. Then stopped. Reveal? No… Find? No… Not Hide?... Woah, heck, I did not just think of drawing a 'not hide' rune… Before I knew it I was done. Divulge, I read. Fitting. I waited for something extraordinary to happen, but, once again, no such luck.

I was ready to give up, my boredom taking over, when I saw a small notch in the wood. I looked closer, it wasn't a notch! I smiled smugly and pressed my pointer finger into it and lifted. AH HA! There was a small, thick book sitting inside. I opened the book excitedly, hoping for I don't know what. Adventure? Most likely. I was shocked… 1878. 1878! This was so old! Did this Institute even exists then. I mentally smacked myself, of course it did. I gazed at the title again, Clockwork Angel, by Cassandra Clare. Hmm… It couldn't hurt to read it.

I wondered to the nearest comfortable chair, which just happened to be in the back of the library, and sat down. I cracked open the book and skipped over the title pages and foung a poem:

Thames River Song

The tides of the mind are slow

they flow through time

past monuments in limestone

and tall needles of glass.

Almost imperceptibly, a note of salt

slips in and the river rises,

darkening to the color of tea,

swelling to meet the green.

Above its banks the cogs and wheels

of monstrous machines

clank and spin, the ghost within

vanishes into its coils,

whispering mysteries.

We are at war.

Each tiny golden cog has teeth,

each great wheel moves

a pair of hands which take

the water from the river,

devour it, convert it into steam,

coerce the great machine to run

on the force of its dissolution.

They each believe that they can take apart

the ancient powers, rebuild the pillars of the world.

Gently, the tide is rising,

corrupting the mechanism.

Salt, rust and silt

slowing the gears.

Down at the banks

the iron tanks

sway into their moorings

with the hollow boom

of a gigantic bell,

of drum and cannon

which cry out in a tongue of thunder

and the river rolls under.

- Elka Cloke

Oh kay. That's not ominous or foreboding at all… I looked out the window and saw it was black outside. Whatever else was in the book would have to wait. I closed the book and made for my room down the corridor.

.o.O.o.

After taking a shower, brushing my teeth, and all of the other monotonous things we do while getting ready for bed I glanced at the small book sitting on my nightstand. I really wanted to know what was inside, but I also knew that I was training tomorrow when Jace and his adoptive family got back from Idris.

You see, they decided that it would be perfectly fine for me to run the institute for three days while they were gone. Not that anything had happened, other then me losing my mind because of the boredom, I just hated being stuck in this monstrous place alone. Well, I had Church, but… Church still didn't like me that much. I sighed grabbing the book.

I flipped past the ill-omened poem from earlier and checked how many pages the Prologue was. 11. I could read that! I'd be done within the hour. I smiled and nestled further into my bed, started to read, and instantly was drawn in:

PROLOGUE

London, April 1878. How did this get into the New York Institute then?

The demon exploded in a shower of ichor and guts. Shadowhunters.

William Herondale Jace! This must be one of his realatives! jerked back the dagger he was holding, but it was too late. The viscous acid of the demon's blood had already begun to eat away at the shining blade. He swore and tossed the weapon aside; it landed in a filthy puddle and commenced smoldering like a doused match. The demon itself, of course, had vanished-dispatched back to whatever hellish world it had come from, though not without leaving a mess behind.

"Jem!" Will called, turning around. "Where are you? Did you see that? Killed it with one blow! Not bad, eh?" I laughed. Yep, definitely related to Jace. Nice to know that the cockiness runs deep in the family.

But there was no answer to Will's shout; his hunting partner had been standing behind him in the damp and crooked street a few moments before, guarding his back, Will was positive, but now Will was alone in the shadows. He frowned in annoyance-it was much less fun showing off without Jem to show off to. I snorted. If Will gets anymore Jace-like I could interchange the two and never know the difference. He glanced behind him, to where the street narrowed into a passage that gave onto the black, heaving water of the Thames in the distance. Through the gap Will could see the dark outlines of docked ships, a forest of masts like a leafless orchard. No Jem there; perhaps he had gone back to Narrow Street in search of better illumination. With a shrug Will headed back the way he had come.

Narrow Street cut across Limehouse, between the docks beside the river and the cramped slums spreading west toward Whitechapel. It was as narrow as its name suggested No shit Sherlock!, lined with warehouses and lopsided wooden buildings. At the moment it was deserted; even the drunks staggering home from the Grapes up the road had found somewhere to collapse for the night. Will liked Limehouse, liked the feeling of being on the edge of the world, where ships left each day for unimaginably far ports. That the area was a sailor's haunt, and consequently full of gambling hells, opium dens, and brothels, didn't hurt either. Lovely, just lovely. I did not want to know that. It was easy to lose yourself in a place like this. He didn't even mind the smell of it-smoke and rope and tar, foreign spices mixed with the dirty river-water smell of the Thames.

Looking up and down the empty street, he scrubbed the sleeve of his coat across his face, trying to rub away the ichor that stung and burned his skin. The cloth came away stained green and black. There was a cut on the back of his hand too, a nasty one. Use your stele moron… He could use a healing rune. See! One of Charlotte's, preferably. What? How are people's iratzes different? She was particularly good at drawing iratzes. I slapped myself mentally, I of all people should know the answer to that. Did this Charlotte have more Angel blood like Jace and I? Who is Charlotte, there's a better question.

A shape detached itself from the shadows and moved toward Will. He started forward, then paused. It wasn't Jem, but rather a mundane policeman wearing a bell-shaped helmet, a heavy overcoat, and a puzzled expression. He stared at Will, or rather through Will. However accustomed Will had become to glamour, it was always strange to be looked through as if he weren't there. I'll second that. I'm still not use to that myself. Will was seized with the sudden urge to grab the policeman's truncheon and watch while the man flapped around, trying to figure out where it had gone Will!; but Jem had scolded him the few times he'd done that before Thank goodness someone around keeps this Herondale grounded…, and while Will never really could understand Jem's objections to the whole enterprise, it wasn't worth making him upset. Of course you wouldn't understand, Jace doesn't either. I remember scolding Jace many times before he finally stopped harassing Simon with a glamour on.

With a shrug and a blink, the policeman moved past Will, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about swearing off the gin before he truly started seeing things. I huffed. That doesn't make what you did right Will. Will stepped aside to let the man pass, then raised his voice to a shout: "James Carstairs! Jem! Where are you, you disloyal bastard?" Will!

The clock in my room beeped loudly signaling that it was now two in the morning. Angel! It can't be that late! I, however, knew better than to fight with the clock whose soul job was to be right about the time. I sighed and shut the book, resting it on my nightstand by aforementioned clock. I guess I'm better off waiting for Jace and the others to get back anyway. I could never keep this a secret, and I'd loathe explaining everything to them if I just finished the book in one night.

I fell asleep staring at the book, wondering what all it had to tell.

.o.O.o.

I know, I didn't do the entire Prologue, but I want the others to be there for the entire book.

So, first chapter. I do plan on finishing this. However that may take a while, but never fear I WILL FINISH! I promise you. Or else Magnus will peck out my eyes or something awful.

Mezza.