The decision had been made: with a determined expression on her face, Charlotte went to call the Silent Brothers; Henry went back to his laboratory; Will stalked out of the room without a backward glance while Tessa stayed where she was, staring after him; and Jem abandoned his post by the mantelpiece to walk over to me. "Are you prepared to leave, Abby?" he asked me quietly; just the sound of his voice, the timbre of it, made me shiver despite having heard it hundreds of times before.
I nodded, hoping that I could lure myself into a false sense of optimism. "Yes, I…I think so."
Jem scrutinized my face for another moment before his eyes briefly dropped down to where the jade pendant was gleaming against the pale skin of my throat. Something stirred in the depths of his expression and his hand started to reach up as if he wanted to brush a loose strand of hair from my neck, but he quickly turned away, seeming to remember Tessa, and made his way towards the open door. I started to follow him, but a small hand grabbed my wrist, holding me back.
"Abby," Tessa said; her grey eyes were wider than usual—with concern for myself or Jem, I wasn't sure—and her lips pursed. "You must convince Jessamine that Nate does not love her. He is just using her for his own ends. Please take it from me—I have known him his entire life. He cares for no one but himself."
My mouth was dry, and it took a great effort for me to reply, "Thank you, Tessa. I will remember that."
She released my hand, but her expression was still creased in worry. "Good luck, Abby," she told me, and with a small, tight smile I followed Jem from the room, leaving Tessa watching us as she had watched Will depart, with the feeling that she hadn't said all she wanted to.
The carriage that was sent to take us to the Silent City was enormous, twice the size of the Lightwoods' carriage and pulled by horses that were the color of ink. A Silent Brother sat in the driver's seat; he didn't turn to look at us as Jem helped me up inside.
Neither of us spoke as the carriage rumbled to life and began its journey through the city; I watched in astonishment as it passed through pedestrians and buildings as if they were smoke. The rain was pouring down in sheets now, but the carriage remained completely dry, untouched by the storm.
I heard Jem laugh softly, and I turned back to him, wide-eyed. He was sitting close to me, our legs nearly brushing, but it wasn't close enough for me. I snuggled into him as I had the night we returned from de Quincey's, my head resting against his shoulder. Had that only been three weeks ago? It felt like years.
"I'm scared," I confessed to him, unable to meet his eyes. "The Silent Brothers…they frighten me. What if they don't let us see Jessamine?"
Jem rubbed my back soothingly, pressing a kiss to my temple and tilting my chin back up to face him. "They will. We are of the Institute, and we have a reason for visiting her. They are not unreasonable."
"It must be lonely," I mused, staring up into his kind silver eyes. "Never being able to speak, forced to stay in the Silent City unless you are called upon…it's not like…not like Downworlder immortality, where you can roam the world as freely as you like."
"Yes," Jem agreed. "Although I do not believe they feel as we do. The runes they undertake strip away most, if not all, of their humanity. It is not a light decision to make."
"My father…" I paused, about to say My father trusted a Silent Brother once, but before I could get the words out the carriage jerked to a halt. I peered out the window, seeing the Houses of Parliament starkly illuminated against the rain on one side and the Thames on the other. Were we going to go straight into the river? I glanced over at Jem, alarmed, but he just squeezed my hand and nodded to the front of the carriage. There was so much more I wanted to ask him—how would the Silent Brothers examine me? What was I supposed to say to Jessamine? But I found that I couldn't speak as a stifling blackness suddenly opened up in front of us, swallowing the carriage entirely and bathing us in complete darkness. Jem's hand was calming in mine as I blinked rapidly, my eyes trying to adjust—and all of a sudden light flooded the carriage, although it was still dim. I couldn't help but wonder where the Silent City was—if it was under the Thames, in Idris, or a different place entirely.
"You would have been here before," Jem murmured into my ear. "A Silent Brother would have been present for the protection ceremony on you as an infant, even if your mother chose to keep you hidden from the Shadow World."
I nodded numbly, staring around at the place we'd found ourselves in. It was a circular, high-ceilinged room, with torches burning on the walls and the floor made out of black basalt. I saw a long table placed at the front of the room, runes I wasn't familiar with carved into the walls, and numerous stars were etched onto the floor. Hanging above the long table was the Mortal Sword, shiny even in the shadowy light.
The carriage doors slowly creaked open of their own accord, and somewhat hesitantly I climbed down and stepped out into the Silent City, freezing for a moment in shock.
It had the air of a very, very old church or sacred building, so that I had the urge to speak only in hushed tones, and the silence was deafening, as if it was pressing down onto my eardrums. Everything was so utterly still yet grand, the pillars carved out of marble and smooth white stone, that I felt as if I had just stepped into a holy place, and that I wasn't fit to even be tainting the air with my presence. The overall atmosphere was very daunting, and I wanted to run back into Jem's arms again.
But that wasn't why I was speechless.
I had been here before; seen these very runes on the walls and the stars marked on the floor. I had dreamt of this place, of my father bloodstained and covered in dirt, kneeling on the floor at Brother Zachariah's feet, his blond hair sweeping the ground. Would he be proud if he knew that I was cowering at something so simple, when he himself had tried to fight a Greater Demon as a mundane?
I was a Shadowhunter now, and I had to be fearless. I couldn't let Charlotte down now. With as much courage as I could muster, I turned to the row of Silent Brothers who had come to meet us. It was impossible to tell them apart from one another, with their hoods pulled up to shadow their faces. I wondered if Brother Zachariah was among them, and what exactly he had done to earn my father's trust. He was one of the few mentioned in Dad's journal, aside from his family and Marcus, and I had often questioned who he was. Maybe, when I got back to 1978, I would be able to ask him. There were still so many questions about my father that I wanted answered.
Welcome to the Silent City, Abigail Cartwright. I recognized the voice of Brother Enoch, and watched as he drifted forward noiselessly, like a ghost, to the front of the group.
"We wish to speak to Jessamine Lovelace," I said in a voice that I hoped sounded braver than I felt. "But first…I would like to know if I am…" I sucked in a sharp breath and half-glanced over at Jem, who had walked over to me as soundlessly as Enoch had and was now standing just behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck. "Ill." Perhaps it wasn't precisely the correct wording, but I didn't want to ask the real question outright.
In what way? Enoch asked, and I mentally sighed. "The other day I was attacked by a Greater Demon. I would like to be certain that I have not sustained any injuries."
"And I," Jem said, stepping forward, "Wish to view the records of a particular Shadowhunter. I believe it may help in the Institute's pursuit of Mortmain."
Enoch turned to the Brothers standing behind him. Very well. I will bring Abigail to the Ossuarium. Brother Micah will show James to the archives.
I looked over at Jem and frowned, wondering what Shadowhunter he wanted to research, but he just smiled at me and surreptitiously reached over to gently stroke the inside of my wrist; somehow the touch was just as intimate as a kiss. Another Silent Brother, Micah, had appeared beside Enoch—his face was much less scarred and his eyes weren't as mutilated. I guessed he must have been younger, or at least turned into a Silent Brother more recently. Jem let go of my hand to walk over to Micah, and I hurried after Enoch, through a pair of wide double doors over which the Mortal Sword hung.
I didn't dare to speak aloud as he led me into an adjoining room, this one painted a stark white. There were at least fifty metal slabs laid out in front of us, on most of which lay a misshapen figure concealed by a blanket the color of the Brothers' robes. I gulped as I realized that this must be the morgue; the bodies of the dead Nephilim here were being examined before they were burned. I averted my eyes, trying very hard not to think about the fact that, someday, Jem would be one of these very bodies, as would I.
"Was it…was it really necessary to bring me through there?" I asked Enoch when we were thankfully free of the Ossuarium, into a smaller but still whitewashed room with naught but an examination table and a shelf filled with metal instruments. He didn't answer me, only pushed his hood back slightly so I could see his stitched mouth and the blank, empty sockets where his eyes should have been.
Lie down, Enoch instructed, and, my heart pounding crazily, I lowered myself onto my back and stared up at the stone ceiling. I had never particularly liked doctors, but I would take a mundane one over a Silent Brother any day.
Enoch took my wrist, and I winced as a sharp, stabbing pain blossomed over the area where Jem had brushed my skin minutes beforehand. I watched nervously as he held a vial to my hand, which was slowly filling up with blood. When it was full, he moved over to my other hand and administered the same procedure. Why did I have to lie down for this? Surely I could have been sitting up—
And then, without warning, Enoch bent over me with a syringe-like object and poured a drop of liquid into each eye. Pain exploded in my head, and I shouted aloud, trying to roll off the table, but I was completely frozen to the spot—I couldn't even blink. "The Silent Brothers have strange magic,"Jem had said once, and now I could fully understand what he meant by that. My eyes were now watering madly, and through the haze of tears I saw that Enoch was still standing over me, his empty eye sockets much closer than I would have liked. He wiped my face with a cloth and, just like that, the pain disappeared and my eyes were perfectly dry again, with not a drop of water in my eyes.
"What did you do?" I demanded, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. He had mixed the tears with my blood and was now transferring it to a larger beaker, in which some liquid appeared to be steaming, the smoke curling up into the air.
There are some forms of demon poison that languish in the veins for years, only showing up if certain tests have been performed. Enoch ghosted back to me after examining the beaker, his tone impassive. You have emerged unscathed, Abigail. Your blood shows no signs of abnormalities.
"That's reassuring, but…that's not the real reason why I am here. I want to know if I am…" I paused, thinking of the proper way to word it in this time. "…With child." I could barely say the phrase, and my voice came out sounding choked.
Enoch did not react in any way aside from staring blindly down at me. I presume the father would be James Carstairs?
"Yes," I said reluctantly—was it that obvious? If even a Silent Brother could guess the nature of our relationship, what must the others at the Institute think?
Perhaps taking such risks is not a wise thing to do, Enoch continued, and I detected a hint of reproach in his tone. The circumstances of your arrival here are vague at best. Becoming embroiled in such affairs is not recommended. He paused, and I bowed my head, suddenly ashamed. There has been extensive research undertaken by the Brotherhood about your situation, and nothing so far has been discovered. Whatever magic was used to create the Portal you spoke of is unknown to us. Perhaps a warlock may be able to better assess its true nature, but it is likely a combination of technology that has yet to be invented and magic that is demonic in origin.
"So I might be trapped here forever?" I asked in a small voice.
It is possible, Enoch replied after a short pause. If that is the case, you cannot stay at the London Institute indefinitely or suspicions will be aroused.
My mouth had gone very dry. "What?" I asked, my voice cracking. "I can't…stay there?"
Enoch wasn't sympathetic, exactly, but he wasn't entirely unfeeling, either—he sounded more matter-of-fact, like an adult telling a child they were moving house. If you do not wish to go to Idris, you will be sent to an American Institute, where you should be able to blend in more easily. That is not to say you cannot see those at the London Institute ever again, but once you come of age you are expected to travel to different Institutes around the world.
"Oh," I mumbled. "I understand." But I truly didn't.
Enoch put a hand on my arm, and I thought for a second it was to comfort me, but he was merely drawing a rune on my hand, an intricate, swirling symbol I didn't recognize. James Carstairs is not immortal, and neither are you, he said, almost gently. I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes again, but I couldn't tell whether it was due to his words or the pain that the rune had caused, blossoming down my skin like a snake coiling itself around my arm. But the Mark was already beginning to fade—I watched in bewilderment as it dissolved into my skin as if it had never been there at all, not even leaving a faint imprint behind. "What does that mean?" I asked.
It means you are not with child, Enoch said, stepping back from me, and my entire body slumped in relief as I hopped off the table; I could literally feel my heart rate slow. If the rune were to stay visible, you would be pregnant.
"Thank you, Brother Enoch," I said gratefully as the door opened again, sending in a blast of cold air from the Ossuarium in with it. I made a mental note, no matter how embarrassing it would be, to speak of methods of contraception with Jem later—if there even was another opportunity.
Enoch led me back through the Ossuarium, past the rows of dead Shadowhunters, and back over the Speaking Stars, this time heading through a small opening in the wall where a dark, spiraling staircase led us even deeper into the ground. I kept a tight grip on the railing as we descended even farther—not surprisingly, the air was freezing down here, even colder than it had been in the Ossuarium, and I would have hugged myself to keep warm if I wasn't so afraid of tumbling down the narrow staircase. I had no idea how long the fall would be.
When the staircase finally ended, I found myself in a long, equally darkened hallway, with iron doors—most of them closed and barred—lining the walls. Here must be where the prisoners were kept, and this time I really did wrap my arms around myself—I felt as if I was in the Parisian catacombs, with skulls lining the walls and staring at me with eyes as blank and dead as the Silent Brothers' were.
Enoch had stopped in front of a door at the very end of the corridor, which was standing slightly ajar. I thanked him again, and after taking a breath to steel myself, stepped into Jessamine's cell.
The only pieces of furniture in sight were a washstand and a hard wooden bed, atop which was a thin wool blanket, currently wrapped around a huddled form. I could just make out a tangle of filthy, dirt-streaked blonde hair. The door clanged shut behind me, and I searched quickly around the cell, some part of me hoping that Jem had returned already, but he was nowhere in sight. It appeared as if I would have to brave this alone.
"Jessamine?" I asked in as non-threatening a voice as I could. Truthfully, I didn't want to be anywhere near her at the moment, seeing as how she had betrayed me to Nate, and, by extension, Mortmain—it wasn't even a stretch to say that she was the real reason my father was dead—but this was the price I had to pay for reassurance that I wasn't pregnant. Maybe it wouldn't have been so unusual in this time, since everyone tended to get married at a very young age, but even so, having a baby was the last thing on my mind.
The girl on the bed slowly turned her head to face me. She was a far cry from the breathtaking beauty she usually was—she was wearing an old, ragged dress and her cruel eyes had lost their cunning spark. She was, overall, a forlorn figure, and I almost felt sorry for her. Almost. "Welcome," she said, her voice scratchy and hoarse. Her eyes were red-rimmed. "Nice place to live out of, isn't this? Did—did Charlotte send you to bring me back?"
I bit my lip, staring down at my feet. "No," I admitted.
"But—she can't leave me here!" Jessamine screeched, her voice rising in hysteria. "I can hear them, all night."
"Hear what?" I asked, secretly glad that I wasn't within arms' reach of her. She looked as if she would grab my shoulders and start shaking me.
Jessamine slumped back onto the bed, her eyes wild. "The dead, whispering in their tombs. If I stay down here long enough, I will join them. I know it."
I don't hear anything, I thought—or perhaps I just wasn't listening. "Jessie," I said gently even as I recoiled at the nickname, "Charlotte…we need your help."
"In betraying Nate," Jessamine replied bitterly, and I suppressed a jerk of surprise at how perceptive she was. Jessamine was many things—selfish, shallow, unkind—but unintelligent certainly wasn't one of them. "But I don't know anything. I don't even know why I'm here."
"Yes, you do," I heard Jem say from behind me, and I gratefully stepped aside to let him into the room. Our gazes met and locked for a brief second, and I gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of my head. His expression immediately betrayed his relief, as mine had when Enoch had told me I wasn't pregnant, but there was something else in his eyes that I couldn't quite place. Before I could try to guess what it was, he looked away and turned to Jessamine. "You know exactly why you're here, Jessie—"
"Because I fell in love!" she snapped, glaring balefully up at us. "You ought to know what that's like."
"I do," Jem said mildly, as if it was the most basic truth in the world to him. "But I have not betrayed the others I deeply care about because of it, either."
"Would you?" Jessamine asked bluntly.
This was moving into dangerous territory, and I started to change the subject, but Jem put a hand on my arm. "If it came down to a choice," he said, almost thoughtfully, "I know that Abby would never ask me to betray the Institute for her. If she did, it would only prove that she was not truly in love with me."
"You," Jessamine snarled, and she moved forward on the bed as if to lunge at Jem, a filthy handkerchief clutched in her fists. "I always thought you were the nicest one. But you're horrible. You're all horrible. Charlotte tortured me with that Mortal Sword until I told everything. What more could you possibly want from me? You've already forced me to betray the man I love."
"Forced you?" I asked. "Charlotte had no choice—"
"Oh, do shut up, Abby," she growled. "Why did you come down here anyway? You're the one who is least likely to understand my plight. And you never will, not with your tragic, doomed love. That was over before it even had a chance to begin properly."
Jem gave a small smile, and it was impossible to tell whether he was affected by her comments or not. "You speak of me as if I am already dead, Jessie," he said.
Jessamine's eyes stayed cold, without a hint of remorse. "Well, you are," she replied bluntly. "Just look at you. Whether it's a few weeks or a few months, it hardly matters."
"Of course it does," I snapped, unable to contain myself. "Can't you at least be civil?"
"No, Abby, I cannot," she almost yelled, her voice echoing off the stone walls. Her handkerchief was crumped in her hands, and her brown eyes were narrowed into slits. "Don't you see? Don't any of you see? You're always parading around, acting noble, high and mighty. You don't say who you really are, because you want to conform. But I never have. Everyone hides themselves. Even Jem puts on a front sometimes. But I never did. I was the only one who didn't. And if everyone despises me for it, then so be it."
And that was when I understood Jessamine, if only for a brief flash of time. She was right—she was perhaps the only person who had always been exactly what she was, no hiding herself or pretending to act superficially friendly. In fact, I almost admired her courage. And in that moment, it was impossible for me to hate her.
But that didn't mean I agreed with her.
"And Nate doesn't put on a front?" I asked, baffled. "Jessie, he lied and schemed to get in with Mortmain, and pretended to be helping the Shadowhunters!"
Jessamine narrowed her eyes. "So you are telling me to go against my very nature."
I had had enough. Remembering what Tessa had told me, I said, "You may be in love with Nate, but he does not love you. He would betray you if it furthered his cause. Take Tessa's word for it: he cares for no one but himself. Don't you recall how upset she was when she learned that he had been spying for Mortmain? She, of all people, would have reason to be in denial. But she's not, because she knows the truth. Nate is foul, and not worthy of you. He's a mundane, and handsome—the two things that you want a man to be. Do you love Nate, Jessamine, or do you merely love what he stands for?"
"You're lying," Jessamine hissed. "He would not have married me if he did not love me. I am Jessamine Gray now. If I do not help you, I will be proving myself as a loyal wife."
"Mortmain, and, by extension, Nate has no more use for you now that you aren't at the Institute any longer," I tried to explain. "You know he wishes to eradicate the Shadowhunters. Do you believe that extends to you, as well? Nate wants what Mortmain wants."
"Nor is it likely you will ever see him again," added Jem. "If you do not help us, the Clave will never let you go. It will be you and the dead down here for eternity, if you are not punished with a curse."
Jessamine shrank back, her eyes wary now instead of angry. I hoped that was a good sign. "Nate said you would try to frighten me."
"We're not trying to frighten you," I said as soothingly as I could. "All we need is for you to write a letter to him telling him you have knowledge of a secret Shadowhunter plot against Mortmain, and to meet you tonight—"
"I will not betray him," Jessamine interrupted, her face hard. "Mortmain will yet win out over you. Then the Silent Brothers will be defeated and Nate will come to claim me."
"If Nate truly loves you," I replied, "He will forgive that you did this. Love is forgiveness. Your choices are either to help us or face being tortured, as you call it, by the Silent Brothers and the Clave. If he is honestly in love with you, he would want you to do anything in your power to keep yourself from harm. Therefore, you should have nothing to worry about if he finds out about this."
Jessamine faltered; she looked at Jem, her face pinched. "I…would you forgive Abby, if she were to betray you? Would you forgive her if she turned into your idea of evil?"
"Nothing she could ever do or say would diminish my love for her," Jem said solemnly, and my heart swelled in gratitude. I reached for his hand and curled my fingers around his; Jessamine watched us with a sour expression.
"Tessa would be meeting him, I suppose, disguised as me?" she asked after a long moment, and I breathed a sigh of relief, my second one that day. I had no idea how we'd managed to convince her, but somehow we had.
"Yes," Jem confirmed; he was much better at concealing his relief than me. "Is there any useful information you could tell us? How you managed to get there unnoticed, perhaps?"
Jessamine nodded. "You must wear boys' clothes. When I meet him at night, I am always dressed as a boy. It is safer for me to traverse the streets alone like that—he will expect it."
I was suddenly struck with a memory of Jessamine skulking down the corridor in trousers and a waistcoat the same day that Benedict Lightwood had come to the Institute to speak to me. I'd thought the occurrence odd at the time, but hadn't given it much thought. How easy it was to overlook such an obvious clue—but by then, I supposed, discovering her would have still been too late.
"Have you a pen and paper?" she was saying now, more resignedly than anything else. "I will write the note."
Jem reached into his pocket and drew out a rolled-up piece of parchment and pen. Jessamine scowled as she took them, uncapped the pen, and quickly scribbled something onto the parchment, sounding very much like her old self. "I ought to get something in return for this. If they will not let me out—"
Jem was unwavering. "They will not until it is determined your information is good."
"Then they ought to at least give me better food," she complained, signing the bottom with a flourish and handing it back to Jem. "It's dreadful here. Just gruel and hard bread. The boys' clothes I wear are behind the doll house in my room—take care moving it. And tell Tessa that she must borrow some of my clothes. She's been wearing the same four dresses I bought her in June over and over."
"I'll be sure to let her know," I said, and couldn't stop my lips from twitching. A bit of color had come back into the Jessamine's face, and she frowned at me.
"You're a dreadful bore, Abby, but at least you're better than nothing. You ought to come down here again so I can advise you on how to style your hair so it doesn't look like a rats' nest." She sniffed haughtily, her countenance at odds with her appearance.
"I'll see what I can do," I told the other girl, but deep down I felt a stab of guilt at the knowledge that no, I wouldn't come down here to visit her again.
The carriage ride back to the Institute was quiet; neither Jem nor I spoke at first of our victory or what I had learned from Brother Enoch. The rain had given way to weak slits of sunlight shining from between the clouds, and we had just passed Westminster Abbey when I finally broke the silence. I intended to ask him which Shadowhunter he had wanted to research in the archives, but instead a completely different set of words came tumbling out of my mouth. "Why did you look at me in that way when I told you I wasn't…with child? You seemed relieved, but you were thinking something else too. Please tell me, Jem."
He reached out to take both of my hands in his own and smiled at me, but it didn't quite reach his eyes; there was a touch of sadness in their silver depths. "Forgive me, Abby. It was foolish of me to even entertain the possibility—you know that I had given up hope that I would ever fall in love before you arrived, and with that I had also accepted the notion that I would never have a family of my own. But I suppose, after everything that has occurred, some small, irrational part of my mind wondered, even if only for a day, if…if becoming a father wasn't such an impossibility after all."
I had broken into a cold sweat during his speech, and I didn't release my grasp from his as I asked, "And is that something you want, then? Becoming a father? I suppose…if you really want to…"
But Jem shook his head. "No. No, that is not what I want right now, Abby. Not only is it a selfish notion, it would be extraordinarily unfair to both you and the child—asking you to burden yourself with a baby at such a young age, and for the child having to grow up without a father. It would be a short-term happiness for me that would become a long-term burden for you and it. I could no more ask you to make such a sacrifice than you could ask me to return to your own time with you." His eyes softened. "It is not prudent to ask for even more when I have already been gifted with so much."
I was only able to nod at this point, and, still keeping my hands in his, stood up and crossed the carriage in one step to curl up in his lap in a most improper fashion. His arms wound around me as I rested my head under his chin, listening to his heart. "I'm sorry," I whispered, but it wasn't just about the nonexistent child, the children he would never have—it was the entire life he would never have. We stayed like that for the rest of the carriage ride, and when it finally halted outside the Institute my eyes were wet.
"This is what I have been working on for just this occasion!" Henry exclaimed when I walked into the drawing-room that afternoon, dressed in gear and thankfully free from an overly complicated dress. Charlotte, Henry, Will, and Jem were standing around the table, on which were two oblong metal disks that Henry was proudly displaying. Sophie was seated in the corner and looking out the window as if she was waiting for someone, and Tessa was nowhere in sight. "It is specifically calibrated to function as a weapon against clockwork assassins."
"As dull as Nate Gray is, his head is not actually filled with gears, Henry," Will said cuttingly. "He's a human."
"He may bring one of those creatures with him. We don't know if he'll be there unaccompanied. If nothing else, that clockwork coachman of Mortmain's—"
"I think Henry is right," Tessa said from the doorway, and everyone turned to stare at her. She was dressed in Jessamine's brown trousers and navy waistcoat, her brown hair pulled up and stuffed under a top hat. The overall effect wasn't very remarkable to me, but Will's eyes were roving up and down her body hungrily, and even Jem's mouth had opened slightly.
"You don't look like a boy at all," Will accused, not tearing his gaze from the curve of her hips. At least Jem had had the sense to glance away—or at least he was pretending he had. "You look like a girl in boys' clothes."
"I'm not trying to fool anyone but a casual observer," Tessa said, her cheeks flaming. She tilted her head forward so that the hat was slipping over her face, one grey eye glaring at Will from under the brim. "Nate knows Jessamine's a girl. And the clothes will fit me better once I've Changed into her."
"Maybe you should do it now," he suggested none too kindly, and I guessed it was because his self-control wouldn't last very long with her wearing such "shocking" clothes. I pretended to be fascinated by a painting on the opposite wall to hide my grin. When I turned back to the group, Jessamine was standing in Tessa's place, her eyes still resentful as she stared at Will.
"Uncanny," Henry muttered, and I had to agree—Tessa's gift was truly one of a kind.
Seemingly uncomfortable with everyone looking at her, Tessa took a step forward into the room and pointed at the objects on the table. "What is that?"
"It's a sort of…infernal device that Henry's created," Jem explained. We were standing at opposite ends of the table, and I was secretly grateful that his talking meant I could look at him for as long as I wanted. "Meant to disrupt the internal mechanisms that keep the clockwork creatures running."
"You twist it," Henry added, picking up the disc and swishing it with a flick of his wrist, "Like this, and then throw it. Try to lodge it in the creature's gears or somewhere that will stick. It is meant to disrupt the mechanical currents that run through the creature's body, causing them to wrench apart. It could do you some damage too, even if you aren't clockwork, so don't hang on to it once it's activated. I've only two, so…" He handed the one he was holding to Jem, who was the closest to him, before giving the remaining one to Charlotte.
"The message has been sent?" asked Tessa.
"Yes," Charlotte spoke up. "We're only waiting for a reply from your brother now. Here is a map that shows where Jessamine claims she and Nate usually meet. It's a warehouse on Mincing Lane, down by Lower Thames Street. It used to be a tea merchant's packing factory until the business went bankrupt." As she spoke, she unfurled a map of London in the middle of the now-empty table; even reading it upside down I recognized the shape of the Thames winding its way down the center of the city.
"Mincing Lane," Jem mused, tracing one long finger over the map. We had barely even made eye contact since I'd entered the room, and a frustrated ache was beginning to gnaw at me. Keeping our relationship secret was becoming more than tedious, but I doubted now was a sensible time to publicly reveal it. "Center of the tea trade. Also the opium trade. Makes sense Mortmain might keep a warehouse there. Such an odd place for Jessamine, though. She always dreamed of such glamour—of being introduced at Court and putting her hair up for dances. Not of clandestine meetings in some sooty warehouse near the wharves."
"She did do what she set out to do," Tessa pointed out. "She married someone who isn't a Shadowhunter."
Will offered her one of his rare grins. "If the marriage were valid, she'd be your sister-in-law."
Tessa looked horrified. "I—it's not that I hold a grudge against Jessamine. But she deserves better than my brother."
"Anyone deserves better than that," he agreed, reaching under the table to pull out a rolled-up piece of fabric. Inside were five gleaming silver weapons with a rune carved into the blade. "I'd nearly forgotten I had Thomas order these for me a few weeks ago. They've only just arrived. Misericords—good for getting in between the jointure of those clockwork creatures."
"The question is, once we get Tessa inside to meet Nate, how do the rest of us watch their meeting without being noticed?" Jem asked as he picked one of the weapons up and ran his fingers across the blade. "We must be ready to intervene at any moment, especially if it appears that his suspicions have been aroused."
"We must arrive first, and hide ourselves," Will answered. "It is the only way. We listen to see if Nate says anything useful."
Jem looked unhappy with this assessment. "I dislike the idea of Tessa being forced to speak to him at all."
"She can well hold her own; I have seen it," shrugged Will. "Besides, he is more likely to speak freely if he thinks himself safe. Once captured, even if the Silent Brothers do explore his mind, Mortmain may have thought to put blocks in it to protect his knowledge, which can take time to dismantle."
"I think Mortmain has put in blocks in Jessamine's case," said Tessa, wringing her hands together. Her stricken expression looked very odd on Jessie's features. "For whatever it is worth, I cannot touch her thoughts."
"Even more likely he will have done it in Nate's, then," Will replied; he definitely had a point.
"That boy is as weak as a kitten," Henry said. "He will tell us whatever we want to know. And if not, I have a device—"
"Henry!" Charlotte exclaimed, looking dismayed. "Tell me you have not been working on a torture device."
"Not at all," Henry said happily, reaching for a box under his feet. "I call it the Confuser. It emits a vibration that directly affects the human brain, rendering it incapable of telling between fiction and fact. He will simply spill everything that is in his mind, with no attention to the consequences…"
"Not right now, Henry," Charlotte interrupted, putting a hand on his arm before he could pull anything out. "If we must utilize the…Confuser on Nate Gray, we will do so when we have brought him back here. At the moment we must concentrate on reaching the warehouse before Tessa. It is not that far; I suggest Cyril take us there, then returns for Tessa."
"Nate will recognize the Institute's carriage," Tessa argued. "When I saw Jessamine leaving for a meeting with Nate, she was most decidedly going on foot. I shall walk."
Will instantly shook his head. "You will get lost."
"I won't," she said stubbornly. "It's a simple walk. I could turn left at Gracechurch Street, go along Eastcheap, and cut through to Mincing Lane."
After a brief disagreement, it was finally decided that Cyril would follow Tessa at a safe distance while the rest of the Shadowhunters would go with Henry in the carriage. I had to admire her obstinacy; no wonder Will was so taken by her. She was perhaps the only other person who was just as stubborn as he was.
"I don't suppose anyone's going to point out that once again we are leaving the Institute without a Shadowhunter to protect it?" he asked acerbically, crossing his arms and looking at Charlotte. "Unless, of course, you've forgotten what happened last time—"
"And which of us would you suggest stay home, then, instead of helping Tessa?" Charlotte asked, and to my great annoyance Will pointed at me.
"Well, Abby, of course. She is hardly trained—"
"And I suppose you're going to take on training me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
Will scoffed. "Of course not. I am merely saying that if you are too afraid—"
"Afraid?" I echoed. "Of course I'm not afraid." This wasn't strictly true, but he didn't need to know that. "I'm a Shadowhunter just as much as you are. Besides, wouldn't it be safer if I was with a group rather than left to defend the Institute on my own?"
Will scowled at me, and seemed about to retort, but Jem cut in. "Abby can well hold her own just as Tessa can," he said, echoing his parabatai's earlier words. "Ihave seen that. It does not hurt to have an extra pair of eyes to assist us."
I noticed that Tessa and Charlotte were looking at me in some surprise, as if they were unused to seeing me speak so frankly to Will. I smiled gratefully at Jem, who easily grinned back. Will stared back and forth between the two of us, a wicked spark in his eyes. I was certain that he was about to give the entire game away, but there was a tap at the window at the same time the front bell rang. Saved by the bell, I thought happily, feeling a rush of gratitude toward whoever was at the door. Sophie had rushed out of the room to answer it even before it had stopped ringing, and Charlotte opened the window as a piece of paper fluttered in as if it had been carried on the wind, although the air outside was still. It flew towards Tessa, who caught it deftly.
"From Nate, I suppose. His message for Jessamine," Charlotte said, closing the window and walking back over to the table. Henry's eyes had followed her journey, but she did not appear to have noticed.
"It is from Nate," Tessa confirmed, giving a little shriek as the paper suddenly burst into flames, leaving only traces of ash on her fingers. "He has agreed to meet Jessie in the usual place at sundown—"
"That gives us only a little time," Henry mused. "I will go and tell Cyril to ready the carriage." With another glance at Charlotte, he strode out of the room—now it was her turn to watch him leave; she looked pleased.
Henry had barely disappeared when Sophie came back into the room, Gideon Lightwood trailing behind her. She was smiling up at him, looking more beautiful than ever, and I was happy for her.
"There," Charlotte said, seeming satisfied. "The Institute will not be Shadowhunterless."
Will was glowering at Gideon, who asked, "You called on me? And I am here, though I know not why, or what for."
"To train Sophie, ostensibly," answered Charlotte. "And also to look after the Institute while we're gone. We need a Shadowhunter of age to be present, and you qualify. In fact, it was Sophie who suggested you."
"And how long will you be gone?"
Charlotte shrugged. "Two hours, three. Not all night."
After a moment, Gideon nodded, but he only had eyes for Sophie. "All right. My father would say it was good practice for when I run the place."
Will made an angry noise and started toward Gideon, but Jem quickly grabbed him by the wrist, forcing him back.
Charlotte was remarkably calm; her answer was matter-of-fact. "It may be that the Institute will be yours one day. In any case, we're grateful for your assistance. The Institute is the responsibility of all Shadowhunters, after all. These are our dwelling places—our Idris away from home."
Gideon's eyes flicked over everyone for a moment before they went back to resting on Sophie. He nodded at her. "Are you ready to train?" Without waiting for an answer, he strode out of the room, Sophie following obediently behind him and not quite able to hide the pleased look on her face.
This appeared to signal the end of the conversation; Charlotte turned to Tessa. "We shall see you at the warehouse. You will be perfectly safe, Tessa. And thank you, for doing this for us."
She attempted to smile, but the look didn't translate very well onto Jessamine's face. I crossed my fingers that she would have all the luck in the world tonight.
We would all need it.
The warehouse was a nondescript brick building lodged in between two identical structures on either side—the overall look was very drab and dingy, and I couldn't imagine Jessamine willingly coming here. I hadn't gotten a chance to speak to Jem privately since we had been in the Silent City, and Will's hawklike stare had prevented me from even saying one word during the carriage ride to Mincing Lane. As soon as he'd climbed out of the carriage, Will had gone dashing inside to investigate, Jem at his heels. I had followed more slowly with Henry and Charlotte, and after a thorough examination of what seemed to be the main office, I found myself standing uselessly at the door with my seraph blade in hand, watching Charlotte riffle through the drawers. I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye, slowly moving across the wall, and suppressed a shudder when I saw it was a large yellow spider. But I could already tell that this was one was real, and not clockwork. With a slightly detached fascination, I watched it scuttle over to its web in the corner and survey its domain with unblinking eyes.
"Doubtless where Jessamine and Nate accomplished the majority of their courtship." Will's voice broke me out of my reverie, and I looked over to where he was standing over a sagging couch pushed against the far wall, painted with flowers and dust. Jem, looking disgusted, prodded the edge with his cane. This didn't escape the notice of Will, who observed, "I didn't realize you'd taken up such a strong anti-courtship stance." Was it just me, or did he glance over at me as he spoke?
"Not on principle," Jem argued. "The thought of Nate Gray touching anyone—" He shuddered in response—"And Jessamine is so convinced he loves her. If you could see her, I think even you might pity her, Will."
"I would not," Will announced. "Unrequited love is a ridiculous state, and it makes those in it behave ridiculously." Bored of the couch, he walked over to where Charlotte was still searching through the drawers. "Charlotte? The desk?"
"Nothing," she said grimly. Her face looked almost green in the light. "Some papers listing the prices of tea and the times of tea auctions, but other than that, nothing but dead spiders."
"How romantic," Will muttered. Jem grinned, and met my eyes over Charlotte's stooped form. I blushed but smiled shyly back, staring down at the grimy ground.
"There is nothing here but broken bits of loose-leaf tea," Henry said, his orange hair caked with dirt as he surveyed the room. "Orange pekoe, from the looks of it."
Jem pulled open one of the drawers and stared down into its depths, seeming thoughtful. "I am perfectly willing to accept that this was an active tea-trading office at one point, but it's clearly been shuttered for years, ever since Mortmain decided to interest himself in mechanisms instead. And yet the floor is clear of dust. There has been activity here—more than simply Jessamine and Nate's meeting in a disused office."
"There are more offices that way," Henry added. "Charlotte and I will search them. Will, Jem, Abby, you examine the second floor."
Jem and Will exchanged an amused look at Henry's assertiveness, but both dashed out of the room without a second glance at me. I sighed under my breath; I would never understand boys. Henry had already disappeared as well, but Charlotte hadn't moved from her position over the cabinet. Now I could see that her green pallor wasn't just a trick of the light; she looked genuinely nauseous. "Charlotte?" I asked tentatively, moving to put a hand on her shoulder, but she had already straightened up.
"Yes, Abby?" she replied steadily enough, but I could see that beads of sweat had broken out across her forehead.
I frowned. "Are you feeling all right? You don't look very well."
"I am not, but there is nothing we can do about that now." Charlotte wiped her brow and walked past me, pausing at the door to look curiously at me. "Perhaps I should be asking you the same question. You have been unusually quiet this evening."
I shook my head. "No, I'm fine," I lied. Charlotte fixed me with a piercing stare and I looked away, certain that she could see through my fib. But she didn't press the point, and was gone the next moment in a swirl of brown hair. I was slightly taken aback that she hadn't pressed the point, especially since I had so obviously been lying, but I had to remind myself that Shadowhunters were not an overly caring sort at the best of times, and that Charlotte had more important things on her mind than my current mood.
Taking one last look at the spider on the wall, I left the office as well and found myself in a deserted corridor. Hearing the murmur of voices coming from upstairs, I darted up an old, rickety staircase and found myself on the second floor: a wraparound balcony circled around the gallery, looking down onto the lobby of the warehouse below. There were numerous closed doors set around the veranda, and I was about to open the first one when I caught sight of Jem and Will on the opposite side, bent over something I couldn't see from my distance. Heart in my throat, I hurried over to them, my stomach turning over when I saw it was a man lying prone on the ground. His skin held the same deathly pale tinge that Jem's did, and his silvery eyes were blank and staring up at the ceiling. He was evidently a yin fen addict, and judging by his thick, full beard and hairy arms, he was—or had been—a werewolf.
"Will—" Jem was saying, but broke off as I approached, his silver eyes wide. Will's shoulders were hunched, his hands clenched into tight fists.
"What happened? Who is he?" I asked, crouching down next to the man and feeling his wrist for a pulse, but there was nothing.
"He told us that he worked for Mortmain, putting pieces of the automatons together," Jem explained bitterly. "Mortmain bought up large amounts of yin fen and used it to get the werewolf packs addicted so they could stay up all night furthering his cause. Now that he's almost finished building the army, the werewolves are slowly dying one by one."
I tried not to look at the werewolf's body, forcing the thought that this would be the way Jem died out of my mind.
There was a loud creak from downstairs—the front door was opening—and Jem quickly pulled me down so that we were lying on the floor, peering out between the bars in the railing. Will dropped down on my other side, and I saw his eyes go to my throat, seeing the necklace dangling in front of me. "That's Jem's mother's pendant," he said, his tone impossible to decipher. "Isn't it?"
I nodded, reaching up to close my fingers around it, and Will's eyes moved up to mine. He was looking at me strangely, and seemed about to speak again when Nate's voice boomed out, echoing around the lobby. "Jessamine. My darling," he called, and I saw him stride out from behind a pillar, holding his arms out in front of him as Tessa walked into my line of vision, Jessamine's fair hair tumbling down around her shoulders as she removed her hat.
"I need to know where the Magister is," she said, stopping just short of Nate. "It's terribly important. I overheard some of the Shadowhunters' plans, you see. I know you didn't wish to tell me, but…"
"I see," he mused. "But first—come and kiss me, sweet-and-twenty." My lip curled in disgust as Tessa, after a short pause, took a step toward him. Nate enfolded her in his arms and tilted her chin up, stopping just short of her mouth.
"My apologies for my impetuous behavior," he whispered into her ear almost theatrically. "I couldn't help but be curious to see how far you'd go to protect your Shadowhunter friends…little sister."
Will snarled next to me, and Tessa gasped, trying to twist away. "Nate."
"Did you really think I didn't know?" he sneered. "After that note arrived at Benedict's ball, sending me off on that wild goose chase to Vauxhall, I realized. It all made sense. I should have known it was you from the beginning. Stupid little girl."
"Stupid?" she retorted. "I got you to spill your secrets, Nate. You told me everything. Did Mortmain find out? Is that why you look like you haven't slept in days?"
"You couldn't leave well enough alone. You had to pry into my business. Delighted to see me brought low, are you? What kind of sister does that make you, Tessie?"
"You would have killed me if you had the chance!" Tessa snapped, and I mentally cheered her on as she shoved him away from her. "There is no game you can play, nothing you can say to make me think I've betrayed you, Nate. You earned every bit of it. Allying yourself with Mortmain—"
"As if my alliances are any of your business. I was doing well for myself until you and your Nephilim friends came and meddled. Now the Magister wants my head on a block. Your fault. All your fault. I was almost in despair, till I got that ridiculous note from Jessamine. I knew you were behind it, of course. All the trouble you must have gone through too, torturing her to get her to write me that ridiculous missive—"
"We didn't torture her," Tessa interjected. "She wanted to do it. She wanted to save her own skin."
"I don't believe you. She loves me."
"No one could love you," she snarled, and even Will's eyes widened at that. She had suddenly turned on him like a wild animal. "You're my brother—I loved you—and you have killed even that."
"I am not your brother!" he hissed.
"Very well, my half brother, if you must have it—"
"You're not my sister," Nate said with relish; the look on his face was one of a cat who knew it had a bird cornered and was figuring out the best way to torture it. "Not even by half. Your mother and my mother were not the same woman."
"That's not possible. You're lying. Our mother was Elizabeth Gray—"
"Your mother was Elizabeth Gray, born Elizabeth Moore. Mine was Harriet Moore."
Tessa stopped short. "Aunt Harriet?"
"She was engaged once. Did you know that? After our parents—your parents—were married. The man died before the wedding could take place. But she was already with child. Your mother raised the baby as hers to spare her sister the shame of the world knowing she had consummated her marriage before it had taken place. That she was a whore. I'm not your brother, and I never was. Harriet—she never told me she was my mother. I found out from your mother's letters. All those years, and she never said a word. She was too ashamed."
Now the disgust in me was reaching something that was close to revulsion. My thoughts were mirrored on Tessa's face as she said, "You killed her. Your own mother."
"Because she was my mother," corrected Nate. "Because she'd disowned me. Because she was ashamed of me. Because I'll never know who my father was. Because she was a whore."
"Why did you tell Jessamine that my mother was a Shadowhunter? Even if Aunt Harriet was your mother, she and my mother were sisters. Aunt Harriet would have been a Shadowhunter, too, and so would you. Why tell such a ridiculous lie?"
Nate jeered. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Let me go," Tessa panted; she knew she was losing, and she was trying desperately to evade capture. I knew the moment of our intervention was near. "You can't kill me. The Magister wants me alive—"
"'Alive' is not 'unhurt'," Nate said, and I had the urge to spit directly onto him. He turned around with a flourish, staring at something I couldn't see. "Wondering where your friends are? Well, here's one of them, at least." I heard Tessa's sharp intake of breath, and I nearly gasped myself as a twenty-foot tall automaton emerged from the shadows, its metal parts gleaming and clockwork ticking. It didn't look like a human at all—it looked like a robot, and my insides shrank in fear. But that wasn't what frightened me most—it was carrying a crumpled form in its arms, one I recognized instantly as Charlotte.
"Pity it isn't the blonde one," Nate observed. "The Magister has been searching for her for a long time. "
I heard Jem hiss under his breath, his knuckles turning white on the disc that Henry had given him.
"Look," Nate laughed, shaking Tessa in his grip as she struggled. "It's time you knew what you are up against."
"Charlotte!" she cried.
"A prototype," Nate explained gleefully. "Abandoned by the Magister. Too large and cumbersome for his purposes. But not for mine." He took a step toward the automaton, holding Tessa out in front of him. "Drop her." It dropped Charlotte onto the ground in front of Nate and Tessa, where she lay limp and unmoving. "Now crush her."
Will began to scramble to his feet, but he wasn't the only one: there was a cry of "Charlotte!" from the floor below and Henry charged for the automaton, a whirl of red hair and gleaming metal. He drove his blade into its side, but instead of slowing the creature, the metal dissolved in a flash of sparks. Henry stared at it, baffled, and the automaton lashed out at him. Henry was thrown against one of the pillars with a sickening crack, where he slumped to the ground, unconscious.
"Such a display of matrimonial devotion," Nate laughed. "Who would have thought it? Jessamine always said she thought Branwell couldn't stand his wife."
"You're a pig," Tessa spat. "What do you know about the things people do for each other? If Jessamine were burning to death, you wouldn't look up from your card game. You care for nothing but yourself."
"Be quiet, or I'll loosen your teeth for you," growled Nate. "Come!" he ordered the automaton. "Over here. You must hold her till the Magister arrives."
With a great clanking, the automaton lurched forward, nearly crushing Charlotte in the process, its spiked metal claws reaching out for Tessa. She was struggling against Nate as hard as she could. "Let me go to Charlotte—"
With revulsion on his face, Nate threw her forward, and she fell to the floor. The automaton lunged for her, and suddenly Will and Jem leapt up, jumping over the balcony straight onto the clockwork creature. I was on my feet before I had time to consciously think about it, and I threw myself over the railing after them, landing on the automaton's head. It was lumbering around wildly, trying to shake us off, but I clutched tightly onto the metal and stabbed my seraph blade into where its eye should be. But the blade barely left a mark on it, and I was faced with a stark fear: this was beyond anything we had imagined or expected.
Jem and Will were on either shoulder; but both of them were having the same trouble that I was. There was no possible way we could defeat it—not even an army of Shadowhunters would be able to.
"Shake them off! Shake them off, you great metal bastard!" Nate was yelling, and I knew what was going to happen before he finished speaking: I launched myself off its head and back onto the railing, but the force of my weight was too great for the old structure, and it snapped away in my hand. I was suddenly falling through the air, and I barely had time to cry out before I landed, hard, in a pile of burlap sacks filled with tea that broke and spilled out around me, the strong scent of spices filling my nose. I coughed and spluttered as the delayed pain from the fall shot through my body, a fall that would have killed or at least broken a mundane, but I had an advantage that they did not, and additionally the teabags had lessened the impact. I was able to scramble to my feet after several seconds, remembering the time when I'd fallen at least fifty feet after climbing a tree when I was younger and had walked away merely winded. Now that I was a true Shadowhunter, I must have become even stronger.
Tessa was kneeling next to Charlotte, seemingly checking for a pulse; Henry was still unconscious by the pillar; Nate was shouting something unintelligible at the automaton; and Will was still bravely clinging on to its neck—but where was Jem? I whirled around, my heart sinking when my eyes landed on him: he had collapsed to the ground, one leg bent under him at a normally impossible angle. He must have tumbled straight down and landed on his leg. As I started toward him, he staggered to his feet and reached into his pocket, pulling out the misericord that Henry had given him. But just as he prepared to throw it at the automaton, Nate rushed over to him even before I could move, kicking his injured leg. Jem fell to the floor again, and this time he didn't move.
I was vaguely aware that Tessa had rushed for the misericord, and that Will was shouting her name, but it hardly mattered—I had turned blind with rage, and with a fury I didn't even know I possessed, I slammed right into Nate, knocking him to the ground. Normally a teenage girl wouldn't have been able to pose any sort of threat against a muscular, fully-grown man; but I was a Shadowhunter and he was not. He was kicking at me, trying to push me away, but all I could see was Jem's broken leg as he crumpled to the ground. Somehow my fist had connected with his face, and blood was pouring out of his nose as I scratched and punched him wherever I could.
With one final effort, Nate shoved me off of him, and I fell to the ground as he slapped me across the face so hard that my head spun. "Stupid bitch," he growled, his face red with the exertion of fighting. "When the Magister gets hold of you—" But he never finished his sentence—his blue eyes had widened, and were staring at something just above my head. His grip slackened on me, and I rolled to the side just in time to see that there was a second Nate standing next to him—Tessa had Changed into him.
"Tessa!" the real Nate screamed. "What in the bloody hell do you possibly think you're—"
"Seize him!" she shouted at the automaton. "Catch him and hold him!"
"Tessa, you're a fool. This cannot work. The creature is obedient only to—"
"I am Nathaniel Gray!" she ordered; the automaton appeared to be confused as it moved its metal head back and forth between the two of them. "And I order you in the name of the Magister to seize this man and hold him!"
"Enough of your games, you stupid little—" But Nate was cut off as the automaton reached out one hand and snatched him up in a tight grasp, raising him up to its face. He thrashed about in the creature's grip, but the automaton was too strong.
I saw Will sprinting across the room, his blue eyes feverish, and throw his body over Tessa's as if shielding her from a blast. In the same second, I saw a spark traveling up the automaton's back, searching for a fuse, and again I knew what was going to happen before it did.
Jem was still sprawled several meters away from me, and with my last reserve of strength I lunged for him, pulling him away from the automaton and collapsing down onto his chest, covering his body with mine as Will was covering Tessa.
And then the automaton exploded.
The noise was so great that my hearing even seemed to disappear for a moment, as if my brain was trying to protect my eardrums from the cacophony. The windows had shattered, bits of glass and plaster raining down into the room. I buried my face in Jem's shoulder as I felt his arms go around me.
When the echo of the explosion had faded, I slowly raised my head. "Abby," Jem whispered hoarsely. He was staring up at me, his arms taut against my back. "Are you all right?"
I half-laughed, half-sobbed at his question. "Me? I should be asking you that." I clambered off of him, relieved to see that I had protected him from the worst of the debris. I helped him stand up as he balanced awkwardly on one leg. Henry had rushed to Charlotte's side and was kissing her face, and Tessa was kneeling over Nate, who now had a large crimson stain rapidly blossoming across his shirt. One of the automaton's claws must have gone straight through him. My stomach turned over.
But there was one person missing: I searched for Will, and I heard Jem's soft exclamation when he found him. He was lying amidst the debris, his shirt torn and blood staining the floor next to him. Jem fell to his knees beside him, ignoring his broken leg, and I knelt down as well. Charlotte and Henry, seeing our distress, were next to us instantly, and we all bent over Will, who was lying motionless.
An anguished whisper broke through the hushed silence. "Will," Tessa whispered, and looking up I saw true fear in her eyes.
"Tessa," Charlotte said, looking up from Will. "Your brother…"
"He's dead," she replied. "But Will—?"
"He knocked you down and covered you to protect you from the explosion," Jem said, his voice curiously blank. "But there was nothing to protect him. You two were the closest to the blast. The metal fragments shredded his back. He's losing blood quickly."
"But isn't there anything you can do? What about your healing runes? The iratzes?"
"We used an amissio, a rune that slows blood loss, but if we attempt a healing rune, his skin will heal over the metal, driving it farther into the soft tissue. We need to get him back home to the infirmary. The metal must be removed before he can be healed." Henry was more serious than I had ever seen him, his hand on Will's black hair.
"Then we must go. We must—"
"Tessa," Jem interrupted. "Did you know you're hurt?" Raising my head, I finally took a proper look at her: she was herself again, and both her clothes and hair were stained with blood.
"This isn't my blood," she said impatiently, taking Will's hand in hers. "This is Nate's. Now we must—can he be carried? Is there anything—"
"No," Jem said sharply. "Not the blood on your clothes. You've a gash on your head. Here." He touched his forehead, and Tessa mirrored his movement with a frown.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly all right—" But Tessa abruptly cut off in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes rolled back up into her head and she slumped to the ground, Charlotte catching her just in time.
The world was beginning to spin around me as well, but I forced myself to stay conscious. Jem met my eyes, and even though he hadn't spoken I knew exactly what he wanted. I pulled Will's head into my lap and helped him into a sitting position while Jem took his feet, and together we brought him upright. The evening light shone in through the broken windows as we filed out of the warehouse, a deathly quiet settling upon us all as we reached the carriage.
Once Will had been taken care of, Jem sat down next to me, his eyes grave, and I could tell he was in severe pain. The only thing I could do was kiss him on the mouth, quickly, before Charlotte and Henry arrived with Tessa, and we stared wordlessly at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.
We couldn't save each other.