"You stupid little girl," Mrs. Black spat as the jerked tight the knots holding Tessa to her bed frame. "What did you think you were going to accomplish, running away like that? Where did you think you could possibly go?"
Tessa said nothing, simply set her chin and looked towards the wall. She refused to let Mrs. Black, or her horrible sister, see how close she was to tears, or how much the rope binding her ankles and wrists to the bed hurt.
"She is entirely insensible to the honor being done to her," said Mrs. Dark, who was standing by the door as if to make sure Tessa didn't rip free of her bonds and rush out through it. "It is disgusting to behold."
"We have done what we can to make her ready for the Magister," said Mrs. Black, and sighed. "A pity we had such dull clay to work with, despite her talent. She is a deceitful little fool."
"No matter." said Mrs. Dark haughtily. "The Magister has already been called. Your forthcoming husband will be here shortly. And then," she said to her sister eagerly. "We shall have our reward."
The sisters turned to go, and Tessa could no longer fight it. Though she had tried to not give into her burning curiosity, had refused to give them the satisfaction of response, she had to know. "Where is my brother?" She demanded at the Dark Sister's crooked backs. "You said if I did everything you asked you would – "
"Your brother," reprimanded Mrs. Dark sharply, still turned away. "Will be lucky if he survives until the morning after your disobedience."
"Truly," Mrs. Black looked disgusted. "Your blatant disregard for your brother's wellbeing is revolting! I would never treat my own sister that way. "And they turned to go once more.
"Wait!" Tessa cried and lunged forward, forgetting about the ties keeping her in place. "The Magister - What does he want with me?"
Mrs. Black's patience was gone. "He wants to marry you, you stupid child."
"But why?" Tessa begged. "Who is he?"
She looked at her sister sideways. "You will learn soon enough."
"Come along, dear sister," Mrs. Dark said, already out the door. Her hideous sister followed, and this time Tessa did not stop them.
Tessa made some low guttural sound of anguish in the back her throat; it hardly sounded human. "Oh, Nate," she said." I don't know what to do."
_X_
The raw silence worsened Tessa's uneasiness. It seemed the whole world was too frightened to make a sound, the calm before the storm, and Tessa was no exception. And though she could not hear either of the sister's uneven footsteps through the thin floors of the Dark House, she knew they were still awake, only staving off sleep to readily greet this Magister.
Who was he? Tessa asked again in her mind. Why was he doing this to her; leaving her with two cruel wretches who seemed content hurting her and threatening her brother? If he wished to marry her, why bring her so much unhappiness?
The window by the far wall looked as if nothing but a dark frame, stunning her. How could it still be night, with no light yet poking out of the horizon? How many more hours did she have before she was taken, an unwilling bride?
As if the universe mistook her anxiety for eagerness and willed it to happen, the brass door knob clicked. Tessa wanted to scream. Her wide eyes were fixed on the round knob as it spun, slowly, and finally the door pealed open.
The Dark sister's shuffled in together; a shadowy figure just behind them. A fist squeezed Tessa's heart – it had been naïve to hope, but if there were ever a time for one of her fictional heroes it was now.
But the figure behind the wicked sisters was not Heathcliff or St. John. Past the Dark Sisters' shimmering gowns, Tessa could just make out a man standing in the door frame by Mrs. Black's candlelight. He was a head shorter than the other sister's towering height, but his shoulders were as broad as the sailors she had seen on the Maine.
This was the Magister. She knew it even without the sister's triumphant leers.
With his arms folded behind him, the man approached the bed where Tessa was tied down and was amazed to find she could still be embarrassed about her position. Up close, Tessa could see the lines that creased his face and knew he was not as young as she had at first thought. His hair was just beginning to gray, but he still could not be older than forty.
Marriage? He could be her father!
Soaring above her like the tall buildings of this awful city, the Magister tilted his head, studying her. Tessa looked back fearfully, and hoped it didn't look as though she'd been crying.
Behind him, Tessa saw the Dark Sister's glance at each other anxiously. Was he disappointed? She knew they were wondering. Was she not everything he had hoped? Was she not as pretty as the Magister believed, or just incapable? Had they failed their beloved master?
The Magister turned on them suddenly, his voice cut through the thick silence loudly that Mrs. Black jumped. "Why is she tied?" He demanded. "Well?"
"I – "Mrs. Black stammered, her sister was silent behind her. "She resisted - tried to escape you, Master. We did only what was necessary to – "
"Untie her." The stark man was composed at once and the sisters scuttled forward like obedient mice, practically chewing through the rope in their haste. "Leave us." The magister said once the job was done and they were gone.
Now free of binds, Tessa pushed herself against the bed frame as far as she could. The Dark Sisters feared him, should she, too?
"Ms. Gray," The Magister said to her, and smiled. "We meet at last. I apologize for such crude conditions – I had hoped our first meeting would be a much happier one."
Tessa stared.
As if sensing her confusion, he amended himself. "Forgive me; I don't believe I'm doing this properly, am I? My name is Axel Mortmain. And you," He grabbed her hand and pressed her knuckles to his mouth "Are to be my bride."
Finally Tessa brought herself to speak, "You…you are the Magister,"
He looked pleased. "I am."
"Then you are the one who brought me here, to this house. You know my brother and you know where he is." They were all assumptions, but his eyes never portrayed surprised and Tessa knew she was correct. "You are the one who has kept me from him."
Mr. Mortmain smiled wryly. "All correct, Ms. Gray. Your brother did say you were clever – but there is one thing I know that you haven't asked about yet. Are you not curious?"
"You know what I can do. You know of my – ability."
"Indeed." Tessa opened her mouth to inquire more, but he was already speaking again. Turning towards the door he said, "I'm afraid the rest of your questions will have to wait until later, my dear. I am not a patient man, and we are in a hurry. Pack your things, I'll send Mrs. Black and Mrs. Dark up in a moment to collect you."
"Wait, Mr. Mortmain!" Tessa shouted. He turned to her curiously waiting, but Tessa had so many questions and thoughts and objections that she did not which to speak first. In the end she spoke none of them and the Magister finished out the door.
No.
Now alone, Tessa spun in what had been her prison for these weeks. Driven by some furious force, she darted to the window and pressed her hands against the glass. It was cold from the night and she could not say how thin or thick it was around the dark frame, but Tessa brought her fists together, rearing them back above her head and shot her balled hands forwards against the glass repeatedly.
But it did nothing. She abandoned that pursuit quickly, and spotting the porcelain jug on the washstand and seized it, throwing the object against the window. The jug bounced back, cracking, and finally shattering on the floor in a pile of white shards and water. Tessa moved to grab the heavy silver hairbrush in a similar attempt but it was too late – the door knob was turning.
Her heart jumped in her chest and stayed there. Tessa darted back to the window, to the shattered porcelain at her feet. She had just a second to identify the sharpest and most threatening shard and stow it in her pocket before the Sisters were upon her grabbing her arms as if predicting struggle.
Tessa could not reach the jug's piece in her dress's pocket, and resorted to biting the Sisters hands. This got her slapped by Mrs. Dark. With a great deal of tripping and stumbling, the Sister's finally got Tessa down the stairs and standing before the Magister. He stared at them, at Tessa struggling in their arms. "Oh, Ms. Gray," He sounded almost disappointed. "I had hoped you would be mature about this."
"Mr. Mortmain, please – "
"Hold her still, please." He said to the Sisters, withdrawing a bottle of water-like liquid and handkerchief from his pocket.
"No!" Tessa's struggling increased with renewed strength, but true to their master's orders she was held still. "What is that? No!"
"Hush, Ms. Gray. You have so much learn and I have so much to teach you – It would be easier for us both if you did not fight it." He lifted the damp cloth to her face.
"But I – "Tessa tried, and then his handkerchief was on her mouth and nose and she gasped. Though she knew she shouldn't have, she could not help it.
They were all watching her, observing her reaction to the drug. Everything had gotten very slow to Tessa – it was slow and faint when she heard things and it took her mind moments to process what she saw and then it got dark and she hardly saw anything.
Her body was limp in the Sisters arm, half collapsed. "Take her out to the carriage, will you?" Mr. Mortmain said pleasantly and they dragged her roughly down the stone steps where the froglike coach men lifted her onto the bench of the third carriage in a line in front of the Dark House.
Tessa would never know it, but then the Magister would hand Mrs. Black a small satchel. Inside was half money, but more importantly was a stone that the Sisters had craved ever so desperately and what that stone would give them.
The Magister said to his servants. "We shall be in touch."
"Oh, yes! Master, if ever you should need something, ever – "said Mrs. Dark dotingly.
"That shall be all," he dismissed, closing the door to his future bride's carriage door and stepping into his own, the second in the line of three. "Thank you."
The first carriage started off, followed by its siblings. If Tessa concentrated she could hear the trotting of horses and swaying of the carriage as it jostled. The orange glow of the lamplight leaked in through the window above Tessa's head and because of it she could see the foggy figure that was the Dark House disappeared from views.
_X_
As Tessa's was moved to a new prison, the dark early morning from when she left was flooded with a day's color until that soon began to go over the West and a new night began.
Back in London, Will Herondale, with his band of three men, arrived where Tessa had been a day before: the Dark House. They were all glamoured; all but Thomas of course, but still approached the dank building with caution.
The building's name was fitting, Will thought. No lights seemed to burn inside the closed walls and no carriage was parked – it could be assumed the building was abandoned and empty. But it went beyond the drab gray stone he made out by the gas lamp; it was something shadowy and ominous that left him disgruntled.
Disgruntled or not, Charlotte had insisted they pursue the murder of the dead girl he and Jem had found weeks ago. They were supposed to investigate the Dark House last night, but Jem had been on one of his bad days and Will refused to go without him. Jem would have wanted to adventure the mystery in person, he always was curious.
Will wouldn't admit it, not even to Jem, but he was glad of the chance to investigate as well. Something didn't sit right with him – the Pandemonium club and that pair of wicked sisters, the double ouroboros swallowing one another, and that young dead girl with tiny pink bows. What did all mean? What did it have to do with this house?
"Look here," said Thomas, towards the street in front of the house and they gathered round, Will pretending to look bored.
"Horse droppings?" He inquired skeptically when he saw what Thomas seemed to observing. "The horror! I shall file complaint to the street sweepers at once!"
"No, look," Jem said, squatting down and pointing to the thin mud crusted on the streets with his cane where feet apart were deeply set lines. "Carriage tracks. They're deeper than what one carriage could make on its own – I'd say there were at least two or three here all at once. Pretty recently at that."
"Right. Heavy traffic." said Will. "I'll take note of that."
It was then decided that Henry and Thomas were to stand guard outside and be ready in case a quick getaway were required. While Will and Jem snuck between the thin lanky gaps in between the Dark House and the abandoned corner store.
"Will," Jem whispered once having spotted a servant's entrance on the house's side. Will nodded, withdrawing his steele and tracing on a rune. It burst open after the heated mark sizzled the wood and the young men stalked inside.
They ended up in a kitchen, not nearly as fine as the Institute's but it was quick to navigate an exit which hall's lead to a foyer. Broad balcony's jutted out from the second floor, and in the center of the room was a stair case.
Will indicated with a tilt of his chin that he would be the one to investigate the upstairs and Jem, this floor. The stairs creaked under his swift steps, a tell sign of the former brothel's age. Making a sharp turn he started picking rooms at random. All were unlocked, and inside the heavy daft doors was either an empty bed frame or discarded trunks full of old petticoats and the like.
Until he reached the last door, the only locked door, at the end of the hall. After his opening rune had been drawn on its face, he raised his witchlight high in hand and the white light peaked through the cracks of his fist, illuminating the dark room.
Will hesitated, cautiously stepping into the room. It was cold inside, with a small wind from where the window peaked open. Rather than thin wired empty bed frames like in the other's, in this room there was a large bed, with white curtains hanging from the tall posts at each corner. The draft caused them to sway like ghosts.
But that's not all that was different. Instead of old hard wood floors, this had intricate blue carpeting. Rather than cracked drywall, there was gray floral wall paper. There was a wardrobe too; and Will reached for one of the mirrored door's handles.
Inside was the most curious thing of all – a wedding dress.
Why was a wedding chamber in an abandoned brothel? Where was the dress's bride?
Will was out the room immediately, determined to continue on. He darted up another set of stairs and began again. Each room had similar results to the others, all empty with nothing of importance to the case.
He reached the last door on this level, wondering if Jem had found anything resourceful. The room Will approached was not empty, and Will entered.
There was a folding screen, behind it most likely a bath, and next to it a washstand. The wardrobe and its drawers were empty. But there the bed was still made and two books were abandoned on the window still. Whoever had lived here had left in a hurry.
Strangely, there were also shards of some smashed white material lying discarded at the window's feet and Will toed one before moving to the messy bed, and upon closer inspection he spotted limp ties hanging from each of the bed's poster.
The intention was obvious – someone had been tied down. Will, having experienced the world's cruelness and perfected his own at such a young age, assumed the worst. But this on its own was curious, wasn't it – a rape in a brothel?
He reached for the wriggly rope by the head of the bed, but drew back when his finger felt something crinkle. He bent down and there, folded in between the spaces of the mattress Will had torn apart, were scraps of paper, squired with ink.
He squinted, holding the witchlight in one hand and struggling to read the foreign writing of the papers. Each began in the same way, and Will's brow crinkled as he wondered who this Nate was, and why he was so dear.
"Will?" Jem called, before he could finish reading them. Folding the papers, Will went out to meet his parabatai.
"What did you find?" Will asked.
Jem looked grim. "Bodies – down in the cellar. And you?"
"A wedding chamber," Will reported. He raised his hand that held the papers. "And these."
_X_
First chapter is up and the second is already written - review if you want more! Thought I'd share one of the possible outcomes of Tessa meeting the Magister before the Shadowhunters
