Chapter 1: the bafflement of the London institute
William Herondale stood atop the raised edge of Blackfriars Bridge, staring down at a swirling black mass of water below; thinking – in all honesty- about death. In the past three weeks six bodies – if they could be even described as bodies- had turned up in random points in the city. They had all had been skinned to the bone and left for someone to find. This led the police to believe that the bodies had been either dug up, or had been left to rot.
At first the London institute had brushed the first body off as a long dead mundane that had only just been discovered; after all the police, these days, were as useful as ten men absent. What really had drawn the shadowhunters to this case was that after two weeks there had been three new bodies that looked exactly the same. The confusing part was that when Will and his brother-in-law, Gabriel, began to dig deeper in to the investigation they found that there was no other cause of death other than aging and the obvious… well, death.
There was no mark on the bones, no bite marks, no sign of splintering on the skull, nothing. None of it made any sense. The only plausible explanation was… that there was no plausible explanation; but even that theory was flawed. It had been the bafflement of Scotland Yard and now the London institute were in over their heads too.
He'd been staring down at the river for a long time just waiting for anything at all to happen. Alas there had been nothing. Not that he'd known what he had been expecting but exactly nothing at all had been rather disappointing.
Behind him the city was punctuated by the clatter of carriages returning from functions and men's clubs melding with the calls of the poor and dying. As a young boy- living in London with nobody but himself and the people he tried not to get too close to- the calls of those people shook him too his core. He had thought as an adult he would have learned to block it out, but he hadn't. Their cries, if anything, got louder and more noticeable.
All of this made him wonder if the people who had died had been one of the people he had walked past in the streets; given money too when they had held their dying children close and whispered the only words of comfort they could without lying. He wondered now if he had made any difference to their lives. He supposed he would never know.
As he turned to get down from the edge of the bridge he caught sight of a figure in long parchment robes making their way towards him. Turning he jumped down on to the path bellow and walked the rest of the way towards the figure; plastering a grin on his face.
"You, my friend, are late" he said, placing a hand, pointedly, on his hip. He knew the figure like he knew his wife and son and was just as fond of him. Jem raised an eyebrow at him – something that was uncharacteristic of a silent brother. But then again Jem was no ordinary silent brother.
"I am sure you found a way to entertain yourself in my absence." Came the other man's –almost emotionless - reply.
Will internally shivered as Jem's familiar- yet strange- voice whispered in his mind. He still hadn't gotten used to hearing his friend's voice while watching as his mouth didn't once open. Externally, however, his grin widened and leaned against the rails of the bridge with an air of serenity.
"By the angel, Brother Zachariah, did you just use sarcasm? I didn't know silent brothers were capable of such a thing!" he watched as Jem lowered his eyebrow quickly, and schooling the amused expression that had crept up on him.
Will's face dropped at that. Why had he said anything at all? Jem would never have noticed and Will would have had a few more minutes to see his Jem behind the dark façade of the bone city. He missed the other boy with such intensity it amounted to agony; to be without his parabati was agony. It was never –as the great writers say – a stab wound, but a million little tiny papercuts to his heart all day, every day. It may have been melodramatic and he may have to take the grief from others who didn't understand, but he knew better than them. He felt it.
When James had first arrived at the institute Will had been- at worst- unreasonably cruel to him, and Jem- being his usual unaffected self- had laughed it off. To this day Will still didn't understand how he could have just brushed what he'd said aside. Granted he had – even back then- always been able to read Will like a book, but anybody else would have recoiled like a scalded cat. Instead his former parabati called him an dreadful shot and suggested he let him train him. And that had been it; the day will had met his best friend, his brother, his soul, his parabati .
And for one shining moment everything was perfect… and then that moment ended. Jem had been severely ill – even then and as the years went on he only got worse. One day – as is always the way- he got as bad as you can get – without being dead. Jem had run out of his medication – namely his Yin Fen- and was deaerating fast. Will had been helpless through it all; something he was not used to being. In the end all he had been able to do was for fill his friends dying wish; which in the end hadn't quite worked out the way he had intended. Even now it still kept Will up at night that he hadn't been there for his friend when he had died and been born again as a brother of the silent city.
"You are troubled, old friend." Said Jem, pulling him out of his train of thought. " you are thinking of the bond."
"don't read my thoughts James" will snapped sharply, instantly regretting it as he saw the miniscule flinch that invaded Jem's person. "I'm sorry" he sighed, in an attempt to amend his blunder. " I know you cannot help it, I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"no it is my fau-" Will cut him off quickly with a shake of the head and his signature don't argue with me on this James look. It was one of the few things that they had still been able to retain about their friendship and Will was glad.
Jem's facial expression shifted ever so slightly to exasperation; which did make Will laugh. Sometimes Jem's struggle to fully integrate himself into the role of Silent Brother made Will's heart jolt painfully and bleed for the other boy; however most of the time he selfishly revelled in the fact that he was still able to arouse an emotion from him.
"Why do I get the distinct impression that you are stalling on me Mr. Herondale?" There had been humour in his voice then – much to wills entertainment.
"James Carstairs, when have you ever known me, William Herondale, to stall?" Jem didn't give Will the satisfaction of an answer, only stared at him blankly trough his closed eyes. "On second thought, refrain from answering that in any way."
"Oh I fully intended too." Said Jem. "Now why have you called upon the brother hood at this ungodly hour, shadowhunter?"
Will snorted at that; what a James thing to say. He turned gesturing for the other man to follow him. As they walked Will was acutely aware that, while he himself had used a silencing rune, Jem's foot-steps left not a whisper of sound in their wake.
Out of all the differences between shadowhunter and silent brother, the solitude and silence, in which they lived their life, was what disturbed Will the most. Everything else was simply white noise.
Making their way to the end of the bridge Will filled his former parabati in on the investigation and Gabriel's concerns that these resent deaths may have been demonic in origin. All the while Jem stayed silent next to him. Only when Will was entirely finished did he speak.
"And you say there is no connection between any of the people?" he asked
"None what so ever; well, except that they all live in London." Answered will, as they passed bishop's gate. "It's as I said there's no reason for any of the poor buggers to have died, it's why Gabriel reckons it's all demon related."
Jem turned his closed eyes to him in an almost quizzical expression. He needn't have done it really; Will knew even when he'd asked Jem not to, the silent brother could still hear his thoughts, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.
"but you do not think so?" Jem's tone was almost curious, as if the idea of having to work with someone, other than those in the brotherhood, had brought back part of his humanity. Not that he had lost all that much of it.
Will sighed heavily, considering his answer for a minute. "The thing is, there is not enough evidence to suggest otherwise; but there also isn't enough evidence to suggest it is either." He scuffed his shoes against the dirt road they walked across; watching as the stones came loose of the earth under his feet.
"What do you mean by that?" Jem questioned further.
"Well, demons aren't exactly the cleanest of beasts. They usually leave behind at least a trace of sulphur if nothing else." The logic behind will's theory was unquestionably sound; it was true that demons left behind some sign –some small trace – that the blood was on their own fangs. However it was increasingly possible that this was a demon the likes of which no shadowhunter had ever seen. The idea frightened him more than he would ever like to admit.
As they approached the top of white chapel, the gas lamps that lined the road side flickered ever so slightly in the gentle breeze that blew from the south. Will stopped for a moment as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There hadn't been a wind all evening and if there had been it hadn't been coming from the south. Something felt off about the street; not exactly bad, just off. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly.
Reaching instinctively for the seraph blade at his hip Will pulled it free from its clip. "Tabbris" he whispered and the adimas set ablaze. Jem – as he often did when he sensed Will's discomfort- tensed and slid quietly into a fighting position; his staff in both hands ready to strike.
The air seemed to get slightly heavy, as if it was being pushed on and manipulated to fit a strange alien object. Will strained his ears, leaning forward ever so slightly. In the distance there was a wheezing, groaning sound that pressed in from all sides. Will spun three sixty on the spot, surveying every possible opening and attack point. It wasn't a noise either of them had heard before, which was never a good sign.
Out of the corner of his eye, to his left, Will saw a blue box; A blue box that wasn't there a second ago. Both shadowhunter and silent brother swung, in perfect unison, towards it as the sound faded and the feeling left. A new feeling invaded Will's senses now; one he knew all too well. It was the cold sense of battle that lingered across every inch of his skin and filled his bones. Pointing his sword at the box he advanced slowly forward, gesturing for Jem to flank him on his right. As they advanced it became more and more apparent there was someone –rather than something- inside. Voices drifted from behind the door, barely audible but still there. The door rattled slightly before opening and a man emerged, walking backward.
"See Clara, like I promised nineteenth century London!" he exclaimed excitedly swinging his full body around in an exaggerated manner as he continued "still in the reign of queen Victoria and – ah. " He cut himself off as he came very close to taking his -rather absurd- chin off on the edge of Will's blade. The man was very odd looking from the front; not bad, just, odd. His clothes were a dark tweed three piece with a bow tie and a bowler had atop his head. His disposition was more childish than demonic but Will refused to back down just in case. Too many times had he been lured into false security by someone he thought was trust worthy and turned out to be a monster.
"What was that doct- oh!" Somebody else –presumably Clara- popped their head around the door, gazing out on to the scene. It was a young woman, about twenty four years old and roughly five foot three in height. She wore the typical Victorian attire but with an unusual air of someone who was not used to such constricting clothes. Both of them were out and out odd. Clara ventured further out, standing on the Doctor's right; looking just as shocked as him as Jem raised his staff closer to her neck. "Doctor, I thought you said we were in the Victorian era?" she said none too discreetly as she tried in vain to stay still under Jem's staff.
The doctor put a finger to his tongue and then held it up in the air. "We are." He answered, sounding as though he wasn't even convincing himself.
"then why," asked Clara "are there people pointing glowing swords at us?" To Will –as confused as he already was- it sounded like quite a good question; what threw him off however was the question about the date. Of course it was the nineteenth century, what other century could it have been?
"who are you?" he questioned them, sounding a lot more confident than he actually was. The doctor seemed to observe Will and Jem for a minute before a look of dawning realisation took over his features. In a strange jolting display of movement the Doctor smacked his own forehead and slipped past Wills sword.
"oh, yes, of course, your shadowhunters aren't you? It's okay Clara they're only shadowhunters, see?" Will froze in surprise and the next thing he knew he'd been grabbed by the shoulders and air kissed on both sides. As the doctor disarmed Jem and gave him the same discerning greeting, Clara relaxed slightly and asked.
"uh, great! I think… Doctor what's a shadowhunter?" this seemed to bring will back to reality a little bit as the doctor then went on to shake his free hand for no apparent reason. "Doctor!"
"yes! Shadowhunters, sorry." He returned to Clara's side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "shadowhunters are a race of beings descendent from a race called the angelis, not actual angels as you can imagine, but they are what the stories are based off of. Shadowhunters are half human half angelis and are on this earth to fight the demos, or as they call them demons, who come from a parallel pocket universe that's slowly rotting away, all very interesting stuff." Will looked at Jem now and saw that he was just as disturbed as he was. Hat this man was implying was that they were ignorant as to their own heritage. And to add injury to insult he had a feeling this Doctor was right.
It was Jem who recovered his voice first. His voice held no anger or fear; merely curiosity and even a hint of amusement. It appeared he had searched through the Doctor and Clara's minds and found nothing too threatening.
"Excuse us we didn't mean to startle you." Jem spoke in all of their minds. "I am Brother Zachariah and this is my companion for this evening, Mr William Herondale." the two strangers looked Jem up and down and smiled.
"well that's alright, no harm done. I'm the Doctor and this is my friend Miss Clara Oswald." Replied the odd man."
"doctor?" The question burst out of Will like an explosion, there was something odd about this Doctor fellow; something not quite honest. He had the same look in his eyes as so many other veteran Will had seen in his time; it was the cold look of sadness and the knowledge of so much death and suffering. However there was also a childish quality to him, a curiosity to know more about the world and the people around him; he had the stars in his eyes. "Doctor Who?"