I just want to take a moment to thank the people who are still reading this, after that long and information-heavy first chapter. Thank you for still being here. :) As a reward for your patience, Jem and Will do appear in this chapter! :D
I opened my mouth to scream as I hurtled downwards through the blue light, indistinct shapes flying around me, but no sound came out and I couldn't even close my eyes. A wave of nauseating dizziness washed over me as the spinning became faster and the shapes whizzed by at impossible speeds—
And then everything stopped as abruptly as if someone had turned off a switch, and I was thrown into darkness, landing hard on solid ground again.
I wasn't sure how I long I lay still, my face pressed into what felt like brick and trying to sort through what had happened. In the past ten minutes, I'd been chased and nearly killed by some sort of monster before jumping into a blue doorway that may or may not have symbolized my death.
So the question remained: was I dead, or had the past day merely been a vivid nightmare and I would open my eyes to my own bed with no danger but school looming in front of me?
The latter was a tempting option, to be sure, but I was certain that my imagination wasn't nearly so creative as to make up that monster, and besides, my bed wasn't nearly this uncomfortable.
I took a deep, shuddering breath—and then immediately started coughing as I inhaled a mouthful of something dusty and stifling, like I'd breathed in dirt. Every spasm sent another shock of pain through my ribs, and I forced myself to stumble to my feet, having to lean on the wall for support.
The wall?
Feeling panic rising up in my throat again, I mutely took in my new surroundings, concentrating on taking deep breaths so I wouldn't faint or throw up, which both seemed like viable options at the moment.
I was standing in a cramped, narrow alleyway that stank of garbage and something deeper, as if the very air itself was tainted. Distant shouts and clangs echoed all around me, and the sky was covered by a tangle of dark clouds, a dim patch of moonlight managing to shine through a gap in the fog.
This was surreal. I had to be dreaming. As strange as I knew the Shadow World was, I was sure there wasn't any portal that could transport me somewhere else entirely—
"Portal," I groaned, and my head lolled back against the brick wall as I remembered that there was, in fact, a very object of the sort that could instantaneously transport someone anywhere in the world, although, from what Andrew Lightwood had told me all those years ago, it wasn't used very often since their design still had yet to be perfected and they could end up taking you to the opposite side of the globe than you intended.
So, a Portal must have magically materialized in front of me and I'd stupidly jumped through it, and now I could be absolutely anywhere in the world with no money and no way to get home. Did they appear when someone was in danger? Andrew Lightwood had never mentioned that part…but, at any rate, I knew I would be dead if it wasn't for the Portal.
The creature that had been chasing me, I guessed, had been a demon. But although I had occasionally seen flashes of them out of the corner of my eye my entire life, or noticed that a human was behaving slightly stranger than normal, nothing had ever been that corporeal; much less chased after me.
Could the demon have been what Mom was running from? Had it gotten her? And if she had been trying to escape, why hadn't she taken me along with her? Was it too late to save her?
Propelled by the thought that the demon had tracked her down as well, I began to move forward, noticing with dismay that my shoes were covered in blood and a trail of red footprints would lead anyone to where I found a place to hide. The logical thing to do would be removing my shoes, but there was no way I could get very far in socks and if I had to run again, I wouldn't have time to look where I was going.
Scuffing the bottom of my shoes against the ground to scrape off the worst of the blood, I gave myself a quick onceover. Miraculously, I hadn't broken anything, and I seemed to be none the worse for wear except for a bad cut slashed across my right cheek and scrapes on my elbows, hands and knees. The blood caked on my clothes gave me the appearance of being more injured than I actually was, which would hopefully be able to fool any enemy who would underestimate me.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I was surprised at myself: that had never been my thinking process, and I was notoriously terrible at thinking on my feet. But the events of the past hour had somehow kickstarted my brain into overdrive, as if a part of it had suddenly been activated that had been dormant before. Although I was still exhausted and would probably collapse once the adrenaline rush had worn off, I was able to think surprisingly clearly.
When I reached the end of the alleyway, I cautiously peeked around the side of the wall, unsure what I would see. Judging by the stench that rose up all around me and the constant noise, I was in a city, although it could have been anywhere from New York to Sydney. But the sight I was met with didn't look like any city I'd ever imagined.
Gaslamps lined the streets, their light burning low and casting eerie shadows over the cobblestone road. The buildings all looked precarious and I could see clothing hanging out of most of the windows, swaying slightly in the light breeze. The wind brought with it an even stronger reek, and I tried to keep my breathing as shallow as possible so as not to inhale any more air than I absolutely had to.
A strange clopping sound could be heard from around the corner, and I quickly drew back into the shadows of the alley to see a horse-drawn carriage rumble past, its driver dressed in a black suit and top hat like actors I'd seen in old movies. There was an odd symbol, like two snakes eating their own tails, carved onto the side of it, with the words The Pandemonium Club written in spiraling gold letters under the snake symbol. Was I in the poor part of town and the carriage was just tourists using an old-fashioned method of transportation? There were carriage rides in Golden Gate Park, although certainly not at night and in a neighborhood like this.
Had the Portal transported me to some sort of—parallel universe or something? I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. Andrew Lightwood had never mentioned anything like that, although if I was on a different planet entirely, it would just have been polite for him to let me know in case I ever found myself in a situation like this.
At least there were no demons chasing me. I glanced automatically behind myself, my muscles relaxing when I ascertained that there was no danger. I hoped it would stay that way.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I started forward, down the cobblestone road in the direction where the horse and carriage had disappeared. Maybe I would be able to pretend I was simply lost and find someone who would know where I was.
The street was narrow and twisted in random directions, obscured by fog and smoke that seemed to hang heavily on the air. Gas lamps lit the way, and the buildings I passed were all shut tightly against the outside world. I could hear a distant rushing sound in my ears and there was a moist taste in my mouth: there must be a river nearby.
God, everything was so dreamlike. The mist covering my vision seemed to warp and twist everything so that I wasn't sure whether the buildings on either side of me were even real or not. No matter how much I blinked, my vision wouldn't clear. How could the carriage driver have even seen where he was going?
My gaze shifted across to the left, where I could see the railing of a ledge looming out of the fog, and two figures began to come into view, materializing out of the mist. I couldn't see them very clearly—aside from being shrouded in fog, their edges appeared to warp and glimmer, and when I looked directly at them they seemed to disappear—but I could tell they were both male, and I sensed that they were looking at me.
Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I ducked my head and pretended I hadn't noticed them, quickening my pace, but it was too late. "Excuse me!" a deep voice called after me. "Who are you?" It sounded polished and slightly arrogant, with a British accent, but I didn't have time to dwell on the particulars just then. I refused to look back at them and broke into a jog, despite my legs still aching from their near-brush with the demon. If I could find somewhere, anywhere, to hide—
"Come back!" the man continued, and I began to run faster, hearing their footsteps chasing after me. There was no way I could outrun two men, and I wasn't strong enough to fight them off…
Taking a sharp turn to the left, hoping to lose them, I hadn't gone more than ten feet when a blurred shape darted right in front of me. I slammed right into them, but they didn't so much as stagger backwards. A hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream, and I was yanked around, my head pressed against someone's shoulder. Just behind me stood the second figure, so close that I couldn't escape even if I'd managed to overcome one of them. I'd been cornered.
I tried to kick backwards, but my captor was holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. "If you make so much as one sound I will throw you into the Thames," that husky British voice said into my ear. "Do you understand?"
I nodded frantically, my eyes widening in terror. "Will, don't scare her," a second voice admonished. This one had a British accent as well, but his sounded slightly more refined, if not a bit exasperated.
"How do I know she'll listen otherwise?" the first one—Will—asked. Mercifully, I felt the hand being taken away from my mouth and I was free to breathe properly again. I sucked in greedy gasps of air, bending over and placing my hands on my knees. My arm was still twisted tightly in a death grip so I couldn't run away.
The moon suddenly broke through the clouds, and I was able to see my pursuers clearly. They weren't, as I'd first guessed, men—they looked to be around my age, hardly older than boys. The taller of the two, the one who had called out and grabbed me, was exceedingly handsome, with high cheekbones, fiery blue eyes, and a tangle of black hair. His eyes were narrowed at me, and he exuded confidence and superiority. The second boy had a calmer air about him, and he seemed less fazed by my appearance—perhaps that was because his appearance was odd as well. He had silver hair, so light that if I'd seen him from a distance I would have guessed he was an old man, and matching silver eyes, their dark pupils wide in the night air. The curve of his eyes made me guess he was Asian, or had some sort of Asian background.
"What do you think she is, James?" Will was asking. "She can't be just a mundane with the Sight, since there's no way any mundane can run that fast; she smells too horrible to be a vampire, she's not hairy enough to be a werewolf, and if she was a warlock she would have used magic to get away from me already. But she can see through glamours, so she has to be Nephilim although she doesn't have any Marks."
"How about," the second boy, James, said with a long-suffering air, "You try asking her?"
"Where's the fun in that?" But Will grudgingly continued, "What's your name?"
Thankfully, I couldn't see his face, and settled for staring at my feet as I mumbled, "Abby."
"Ah, an American," he drawled lazily. "No surname?" Even worse, I could hear something that sounded almost like amusement in his voice. He thought this was a game—he was making fun of me. Irrationally, I bit back tears and raised my face, unintentionally making eye contact with the silver-haired boy. He was staring curiously at me, but, unlike Will, there was no trace of hostility in his eyes. He looked kind, almost gentle, and it was him who made me answer the question fully.
"Cartwright," I said louder. "Abigail Cartwright."
"Cartwright?" Will asked incredulously. "That's impossible, we know the Cartwrights—"
"Not all of them, apparently," James interrupted, and he grinned at me, a strand of silver hair falling into his eyes. I would have smiled back if I wasn't so terrified.
"So what are you?" Will demanded. He took a step away from me, and I saw the black mark of a rune scribbled across the back of his hand, and I felt myself relax, if only infinitesimally. They were obviously Shadowhunters. Maybe they could help me…
"I'm Nephilim," I answered, glancing down out of the corner of my eye at a river rushing next to the bank we were standing on. It looked deep enough to jump in, and although swimming had never been my strong point it could be a last resort if I had to escape. "My mother is a mundane and my father was a Shadowhunter. But I've chosen to live a mundane life, so I'm not technically a Shadowhunter, but—" I knew I was babbling, but the words just kept tumbling out of my mouth.
Will suddenly shoved me away from him so that I was standing facing both of them, the river to my back. His eyes raked over my form, but not in a lecherous way—he was staring at my clothes with an incredulous glare, as if he had suddenly realized what they were. "What in the Angel's name are you wearing?"
"Um…" I stupidly glanced down at myself, as if my jeans and shirt had mysteriously vanished and been replaced with something else—although since everything else had changed, I wouldn't have been all surprised if I had suddenly found myself wearing a floor-length ball gown. "Clothes?"
The silver-haired boy's lips twitched. "She's got a point, Will."
Will gave a dissatisfied humph, and for the first time I worked up the courage to ask, "Where am I?"
"London," said James; the first time he had spoken directly to me. Now he looked slightly worried, as if he now knew that something wasn't quite right. "I'm Jem Carstairs and that's Will Herondale—"
"It can't be London," I interrupted; their names were not the first thing on my mind at the moment. I'd never left California in my life. "London doesn't look like—like this! If anything, this looks like something out of an old movie—"
"Movie?" Will asked incredulously. He repeated the word slowly, as if he had never heard it before. "Are you mad?"
A horrible, terrible suspicion was beginning to dawn on me. "The Portal," I gasped. "I thought it could only travel through distances. What…" My voice was shaking. "What year is it?"
The boys exchanged a glance. "1878," Jem finally answered. He reached out a hand, as if trying to comfort me, but I shied away from him.
"It's impossible," I breathed, but it made so much sense…the horse and carriage, the look of the city, the boys' mannerisms and their reactions toward me…at first I thought I'd been transported to another universe, but I'd been transported to another time. In my opinion, that was even worse.
My last, desperate hope was that I was still dreaming. And if I was dreaming, there was only one way to find out. Opening my mouth as if I was going to say something, I twisted around and dove into the rushing water below.
I heard a dim shout from above me, but it was too late—I had already gone under. It was absolutely freezing—all the breath I'd been saving was knocked out of me as I sank deeper, spots dancing in front of my eyes from the shock.
And then I felt something grab my leg and yank me down. I screamed soundlessly, thrashing and flailing as I tried to kick whatever had hold of me, but it was no use: through the murky, brown water that, had I been more lucid, I would have compared to the water at the motel, I could see a long tendril wrapped around my right leg, pulling me down further into the depths of the river, that, I realized, was far too deep for the Thames—
I began to black out then, my lungs screaming for air. The spots in front of my eyes had become all-consuming, and a horrible pain burst into my chest. My struggles became weaker, and through the haze of my oxygen-deprived brain I knew I was going to die.
I must have blacked out momentarily, since the next thing I was aware of was that the tendril was no longer squeezing my leg and I could feel myself being propelled back upward through the water, this time with a pair of arms wrapped tightly around my waist.
As soon as we broke the surface of the water I gasped for air, the spots rushing back with a dizzying force as I was hoisted back onto the bank, collapsing onto the mud. On my hands and knees, I coughed up what felt like half the Thames, not caring who was watching me. When the spasms had passed and I was able to breathe and see properly again, I looked up at the two boys who had rescued me. They were both soaking wet, and I felt a strange rush of gratitude at the fact that they'd jumped into the river. Jem was kneeling on the ground coughing loudly, and Will had a hand on his shoulder, saying something in a low voice to him. I caught the gleam of what I assumed was a seraph blade in Will's hand, covered with a thick green substance that I recognized as what had been dripping from the demon chasing me outside the motel.
Unsure what to do, I slowly staggered to my feet, knowing I couldn't try to run again. I was too weak, and the boys would be able to catch up with me immediately. I had no choice but to stay with them.
Several feet away, Jem stood up as well, waving away Will's offer of help, and for the first time I noticed he had a cane: the end was carved in the shape of a dragon's head, and he leaned heavily on it as he started towards me. He looked even paler than usual and the pupils of his eyes had grown even larger. I almost felt bad for making him look worse than he already did.
"Are you all right?" Jem asked me, as if I shouldn't be the one asking him if he was all right. "It was a Hydra Demon that almost got you—they'll often snatch up unwary people who fall into the river."
"Yes, I'm fine," I said thickly. "Thank you for…for saving me."
Will walked over then, wiping the blood off his blade and scowling at me. "I didn't completely kill it," he said. "You should have waited a moment longer to grab her, James."
"If I'd waited a moment longer she would have drowned," Jem said patiently. He began to blur out of focus again, and it took me a moment to realize I was shivering, the cold night air mixing with the water on my clothes.
"C—can someone p—please create a Portal that will g—get me back to 1978?" I asked, my voice whiny and pitiful. "I d—don't know how to do it myself…"
"Portal?" Jem asked at the same time Will said, "1978?"
A horrible thought struck me, and I stopped shivering in shock. What if the Portals weren't even invented yet? Would I be stuck a century in the past forever?
"Miss Cartwright," Jem began, and I winced at the sound of my name, "Do you mean to say that in the future, there exist Portals that can transport a Shadowhunter to a different place and time?"
"It makes sense," Will snorted. "Look at her clothes." But he exchanged another meaningful look with Jem, and I was sure I saw something like anxiety pass through it. If they were unsure of what to do, how should I feel?
The world began to spin around me, and my breathing hitched as my heart pounded crazily. I could feel nausea rising up inside me again, and I turned my head to the side and retched, but nothing came out.
"She's going into shock," Jem muttered. I saw him limp over to me and he looped his arm around mine, holding me upright so I wouldn't fall over. Surprisingly, his arm felt almost fragile and breakable, as if he could fall to pieces at any moment. He must have an extraordinary amount of hidden strength if he was able to lift me out of the water.
"Bring her to the Institute," Will instructed, and my ears perked up. Surely the London Institute would have some idea of what to do with me. "I'll finish off the demon." When Jem hesitated, he said, "You're hardly in better shape than she is, James. I can take care of the Hydra myself." He cast me an angry glare as he said this, as if it was my fault that Jem had weakened.
After another moment, Jem nodded and unlatched his arm from around mine. "Can you walk on your own, Miss Cartwright?"
I nodded and took a hesitant step forward. "I—I think so."
Behind us, Will was already readying for another jump into the water: he'd pulled out another blade and was pacing up and down the length of the bank, as if trying to figure out the best way to enter. "Use her blood on the door to see if she really is Nephilim," he said carelessly as we began to walk away, turning around and barely giving me another glance. "She's already bleeding enough anyway."
Jem and I started back up to the road. I automatically turned when I heard a distant splash and saw that Will had disappeared. "He'll be fine," Jem reassured me, as if I cared about how he fared after he'd been so rude to me. "Hydra demons are nothing to be worried about if you're trained well enough."
"Oh," I said in a small voice, unsure how to respond. "So…you're taking me to the Institute, then?"
"It's the best place for you to be right now," he replied. "If any Downworlders heard of you, you would be dead right now. Despite the fact that we fight demons and warlocks can use magic, time-traveling has, surprisingly, not been invented yet."
I glanced sideways at him, shocked that I didn't hear any malice or annoyance in his voice. "You're not angry at me?"
Jem met my gaze, his wide silver eyes looking surprised. "Why would I be angry at you?"
"Well…I ruined your night and you were nearly killed trying to save me."
He laughed out loud, and for the first time since I'd been at home, I felt myself smile back. "We're Shadowhunters—killing demons is our job. We risk death every day. And we're obliged to aid our fellow Nephilim, no matter what place or, in your case, I suppose, time period they come from."
"And Will?" I thought of the exasperation in his voice, his angry glare whenever he looked at me.
"Will thrives on danger. I'm sure he's enjoying every second of it." Jem grinned wryly. "This is the most exciting thing that's happened to him in weeks."
We turned onto another street and I couldn't help but gaze over at London, at the landscape that was so different from the modern San Francisco I was used to, a city so ancient that I felt as if all the secrets of the world were hidden between every brick, tucked behind every building…I couldn't stop my eyes from widening as I spotted an enormous grand cathedral, which towered majestically over the rest of the buildings.
"That's St Paul's," Jem explained to me. "London is a fascinating city—provided you're in the right part of it, of course. Westminster Abbey is even grander, and so is Blackfriars Bridge…I can show them to you during the day if you'd like." He was talking matter-of-factly, as if a girl from a century into the future getting stuck in nineteenth-century London was something that happened all the time.
I couldn't help but look at him suspiciously. "Why aren't you asking me any questions about myself? Don't you want to know what the future is like?"
His smile didn't falter. "I'm sure I'll find out the answer later when you speak to Charlotte. I won't force you to tell me anything you don't want to."
Two questions were running through my mind: did he have some sort of ulterior motive? I'd only known him for twenty minutes and I'd never met anyone as kind as him. And if he didn't have some sort of ulterior motive, why weren't there any boys like him in my time?
"I'm sorry that I can't use an iratze to heal you," Jem said after a minute of silence. Noticing my frown, he nodded at my still-bleeding hand and said, "There's no telling how you would react to any Marks now since you haven't taken the vows."
"It's fine," I told him. "It doesn't really bother me anymore." Feeling like I had to say something or else the full weight of what had happened would overwhelm me, I asked, "So do you live at the Institute?"
Jem nodded. "Both Will and I do—we don't have any other family. There's another girl our age too—" But he was abruptly cut off by a fit of choking, flinging his arm up over his mouth and the coughs wracking his entire body. I stopped hesitantly, awkwardly standing there and not sure what to do. Should I go back and find Will?
But before I could make up my mind, Jem straightened up and smiled. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's nothing to worry about."
My eyes were wide. Before he had lowered his sleeve, I'd seen a glimpse of blood on the fabric that I was certain hadn't been there before. "Are you sure?" I asked, momentarily forgetting about the blood caking on my own clothes. "I mean…coughing up blood isn't such a good thing in 1978 either—"
"Miss Cartwright, please don't worry about it," he said, kindly but firmly. "I am fine."
I had a sudden vision of Jem collapsing to the ground and Will blaming me for it—he already blamed me for what had happened in the river. But instead of pressing the point, I said, "Call me Abby. Miss Cartwright sounds too formal. No one talks like that in—where I'm from."
"They don't?" Jem asked, sounding interested. "Well, Shadowhunters call each other by their given names, but I wasn't sure how you wanted to be addressed. Oh, there's the Institute now. It used to be the Church of All-Hallows-The-Less until it burned down in the Great Fire of London," he added. I followed his gaze to where I could see a grand old church on the corner of a busy street, where men in dark coats swarmed out of shops even at this hour. But the second I turned my gaze away from it, it disappeared and all I saw was an ordinary patch of land.
Jem must have seen the awe on my face, for he said, "You're not used to seeing through glamours yet, but with enough time and practice it will become second nature." I noticed we were coming up to a wrought-iron gate, and before my eyes it swung open, leading into a courtyard where I could more clearly see the architecture of the Institute. It was intricate yet not overly magnificent; I wondered if the one in Los Angeles looked similar.
"How did the gates—" I began, but trailed off when I saw a handsome man with a thick tangle of brown hair walking up toward us. Despite the lateness of the hour, his smile was every bit as charming as Jem's.
"Hello, Thomas," Jem told him as he loped up to us, staring at me curiously. "We have a new visitor, it seems."
"So I see," Thomas said, and inclined his head to me. "Good evening, miss—or should I say good morning."
I couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. I'm Abigail Cartwright."
"Cartwright?" he repeated, and his eyes slid over to Jem, who gave a tiny shrug.
"Shall we go inside?" Jem asked me, and we began to head up the stairs to the front door. He cast me a questioning glance, and I remembered what Will had said about using my blood on the door. Taking a deep breath, I swiped some blood off my hand and placed it on the handle. I didn't expect anything to happen, but to my surprise the door swung open.
Jem looked pleased. "It appears that you are indeed one of us," he said, and graciously held the door open to where I stepped inside a grand entryway. The walls were built of stone and torches burned high on the walls, reminding me of a medieval castle. It was disappointingly even colder in here than it had been outside.
"Charlotte? Henry?" Jem called as he led me through the entryway into another identical hallway, with what looked like an endless stretch of doors branching away from us. I was already lost just from standing in one place; it was much larger than it had looked from the outside.
One of the doors opened at Jem's call and a tiny woman stepped out. She had light brown hair pulled back into a high bun and although she appeared to be wearing a robe—didn't they call it a dressing-gown in England?—under a nightgown, her expression was wary and alert. I smiled hesitantly at her as Jem explained who I was and how they had come across me. Charlotte's hand went to her mouth when he came to the part about being from the future.
"I'm sorry to bother you—" I began, but she shook her head, recovering almost immediately.
"I'm Charlotte Branwell, the head of the Institute. Its very purpose is to assist Shadowhunters in need," she said. "You look exhausted; you don't have to explain anything until tomorrow. I'll get one of the Silent Brothers to have a look at you—" She beckoned me up a flight of stairs I hadn't previously noticed; they appeared so quickly I wondered if they hadn't, in fact, been there before. I went up three before I realized that Jem wasn't following me. Pausing, one hand on the railing, I looked quizzically at him, somewhat disappointed.
"You need to sleep," he told me, smiling. "I'd better go see how Will is faring."
"Oh, all right," I said. "Thank you for bringing me back here."
"It was no trouble at all," he assured me, but his smile had turned into a frown, as if he was planning on saying something else but thought better of it. I turned around and started up the stairs, expecting him to leave, but instead I heard a voice call "Abby!"
I questioningly turned back to him, sensing that Charlotte had paused and was waiting for me. "Why didn't you ask me why I was coughing?" he asked.
Remembering his words from earlier, I said, "I won't force you to tell me."
The biggest grin of all appeared on his face, and, again, I couldn't help but smile to myself as I followed Charlotte upstairs and around the corner until he disappeared from my view.
