The Infernal Devices

Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille,
Then took each by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill
-Oscar Wilde, "The Harlot's House"

Jem-

Jem, his face hidden deep inside the hood of his robe, walked last in a line like a procession down the steps into the Crypt-Henry's workspace-of the London Institute. If it was a procession, it was one of the strangest the world, mundane and Shadow alike, had ever seen. First there was Charlotte and the servants of the Institute, all in training gear-Bridget, looking as if she were out for a morning stroll; Cyril, set and determined; and Sophie, carrying a large leather bag. Behind them were three more men. Tall men, in parchment robes, moving with peculiar gliding motions.

Silent Brothers. One of whom was Jem. It felt strange to Jem as he walked the halls of the Institute, his home for the last five years. It had only been days since he'd last been there and yet it already felt alien to him-as if it had been years instead. His emotions were already much diluted and were felt less deeply, so the feeling of strangeness was very faint. He'd felt the change since just before Brother Enoch had come to him, giving him the choice to go with Charlotte and the others. Not only were his emotions less, but his appetite and the need for sleep was nearly gone, and his bodily functions almost ceasing entirely. His Conversion was nearly complete and irrevocable.

Unlike any other Silent Brothers, these were armed. Most Shadowhunters, especially the younger generation, had never seen Silent Brothers with weapons. Weapons belts were cinched around their waists, over their robes, and from their belts hung long, curved blades, their hilts made of shimmering adamas, the same material used to make steles and seraph blades. They were ready for battle.

Jem saw Henry look up, puzzled-then guiltily, from the glowing archway (which they would later learn had been named a Portal), to the Brothers. His lightly freckled face paled. "Brother Enoch," he said. "I-"

Jem 'heard' Brother Enoch speak. Calm yourself. From their expressions, Jem could see his fellow Brother's voice rang out in all their minds. We have not come to warn you of any possible breach of the Law, Henry Branwell. We have come to fight with you.

"To fight with us?" Gideon looked amazed. "But Silent Brothers don't-I mean, they aren't warriors-"

Wrong, Jem thought to himself, at the same time Brother Enoch 'spoke' again. That is incorrect. Shadowhunters we were and Shadowhunters we remain, even when changed to become Brothers. We were founded by Jonathan Shadowhunter himself, and though we live by the book, we may yet die by the sword if we so choose.

Charlotte was beaming. "They learned of my message," she said. "They came. Brother Enoch, Brother Micah, and Brother Zachariah."

Jem and Brother Micah inclined their heads without a word.

"Brother Enoch also told me why no one else came," Charlotte said, the smile vanishing from her face. "Consul Wayland convened a Council meeting this morning, though he told us nothing of it. Attendance for all Shadowhunters was mandatory by Law."

Henry's breath hissed out through his teeth. "That ba-bad man," he finished, with a quick glance at Cecily, who rolled her eyes. "What's the Council meeting about?"

Jem felt the smalled urge to laugh at Henry and his antics, but tamped it down quickly. By the Angel, I miss them! Jem thought to himself.

"Replacing us as heads of the Institute," Charlotte said. "He still believes Mortmain's attack will come against London, and that a strong leader here is needed to stand against the clockwork army."

"Mrs. Branwell!" Sophie, in the act of handing to Magnus the bag she had been carrying, nearly dropped it. "They can't do that!"

"Oh, they very well can," said Charlotte. Jem could feel a simmering anger on behalf of Charlotte. She looked around at all their faces, and raised her chin. In that moment, despite her small size, she seemed taller than the Consul. "We all knew this would come," she said. "It does not matter. We are Shadowhunters, and our duty is to each other and to do what we think is right. We believe Will, and we believe in Will. Faith has brought us this far; it will bring us a little farther. The Angel watches over us, and we shall win out."

Everyone was silent. Jem looked around at their faces-determined, every one-and even Magnus seemed, if not moved or convinced, considering and respectful. "Mrs. Branwell," Gabriel said at last. "If Consul Wayland does not consider you a leader, he is a fool."

Jem had no idea that Gabriel Lightwood, of all people, would compliment Charlotte in this way. Everyone who'd been at the Institute for the last several years, and even Tessa, Bridget and Cyril, for the few months they had been here, had seen what an amazing leader and Shadowhunter Charlotte was. Jem was glad that Gabriel had finally seen it as well. It was about damn time!

Charlotte, not one to bask in praise, simply inclined her head toward him. "Thank you," she said. "But we should waste no more time-we must go, and quickly, for this matter can wait on us no longer."

Henry looked for a long moment at his wife, and then toward Cecily. "Are you ready?"

Will's sister nodded, and moved forward to stand before the Portal. Its gleaming light cast the shadow of unfamiliar runes across her small, determined face, the face that was so much like Will's.

"Visualize," said Magnus. "Imagine as hard as you can that you are looking at the top of Cadair Idris."

Cecily's hands clenched at her sides. As she stared, the Portal began to move, the runes to ripple and change. The darkness within the archway lightened. Suddenly Jem was no longer looking at shadow. He was gazing at a portrait of a landscape that could have been painted within the Portal-the green curve of the top of a mountain, a lake as blue and deep as the sky. It was beautiful.

Cecily gave a little gasp-and then, unprompted, stepped forward, and vanished through the archway. It was like watching a sketch being erased. First her hands vanished into the Portal, and then her arms, outstretched, and then her body.

And she was gone.

Charlotte gave a little shriek. "Henry!"

Gabriel was the first to disappear after Cecily. He had ignored his brother call his name; had pushed past Gideon, reaching the Portal, and stepped through it. Jem was last. For a moment there was nothing but blackness. Then a great hand seemed to reach out of the darkness and snatch hold of him, and he was pulled into the whirling inky maelstrom.

Their mishmash group of warriors split up and crept through the passageways of the inside of the mountain called Cadair Idris in Wales. Jem was ruminating on what all had been said before they'd stepped through the Portal as he skulked behind the others, also staying observant of his surroundings. There was nothing so far. He'd said not a word through all of it. Partially because Brother Enoch had instructed that he not allow the others know who he was. The other part was that he was reluctant to let them know his identity for his own reasons. He didn't think he could handle the overwhelming feelings that would bombard him once the others knew he was there. He knew it was selfish and cowardly, but he didn't want to make his break from his family any harder than it had already been.

The room they finally met up in was like the inside of Saint Paul's dome. It was a grand building in London, where you could test the echo of your voice in the interior Whispering Gallery and could read the inscription left by Christopher Wren: Si monumentum requiris, circumspice. "If you seek his monument, look about you."

It meant that Wren preferred to by remembered by the works he had built rather than any tombstone. The whole of the cathedral was a monument to his craft-as, in a way, the whole of this labyrinth beneath the mountain, and this room especially, was a monument to Mortmain's.

There was a domed ceiling here, too, though there were no windows, only an upward-reaching hollow in the stone. A circular gallery ran around the upper part of the dome, and there was a platform on it, from which, presumably, one could stand and look down at the floor, which was smooth stone.

There was an inscription on the wall here, too. Four sentences, cut into the wall in glittering quartz.

THE INFERNAL DEVICES ARE WITHOUT PITY.

THE INFERNAL DEVICES ARE WITHOUT REGRET.

THE INFERNAL DEVICES ARE WITHOUT NUMBER.

THE INFERNAL DEVICES WILL

NEVER STOP COMING.

On the stone floor, lined up in rows, were hundreds of automatons. They wore a motley assortment of military uniforms and were deadly still, their metal eyes closed. Tin soldiers, grown to human size. The Infernal Devices. Mortmain's great creation-an army bred to be unstoppable, to slaughter Shadowhunters and to move onward without remorse.

Sophie had been the first to discover the room; she had screamed, and the others had all rushed to find out why. They had found Sophie standing, shaking, amid the unmoving mass of clockwork creatures. One of them lay at her feet; she had cut its legs out from under it with a sweep of her blade, and it had crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The others had not moved or awakened despite the fate of their associate, which had given the Shadowhunters the boldness to go forward among them. Jem knew this couldn't continue. Mortmain was too cunning, and he dreaded the moment when the creatures came to 'life.' They did not have to wait long.

Henry was on his knees now, beside the carapace of one of the still unmoving automatons; he had slit open its uniform and opened its metal chest and was studying what was within. Even now, he can't contain his wonder and curiosity, Jem thought with a faint glimmer of amusement. Jem and the two other Silent Brothers stood about him, as did Charlotte, Sophie, and Bridget. Gideon and Gabriel had returned as well, their explorations having proved fruitless. Only Magnus and Cyril had not yet returned. Jem barley paid attention to Henry's ministrations with the automaton. He still had enough feeling left in him to be worried that Will had still not been found, nor had Tessa. The longing and the pain he felt at the prospect that they might not be found was almost overwhelming and the only things he were truly feeling.

"Look at this," Henry murmured in a low voice. Inside the chest of the clockwork creature was a mess of wires and what looked like a metal box, the kind that might hold tobacco. Carved onto the outside of the box was the symbol of a serpent swallowing its own tail. "The ourobouros. The symbol of the containment of demon energies."

"As on the Pyxis." Charlotte nodded.

"Which Mortmain stole from us," Henry confirmed. "It had concerned me that this was what Mortmain was attempting."

"That what was what he was attempting?" Gabriel demanded. He was flushed, his green eyes bright. Bless Gabriel for always asking exactly the question that was on his mind.

"Animating the automatons," Henry said absently, reaching for the box. "Giving them consciousness, even will-"

Jem was abruptly snapped fully back into the moment. Henry broke off his words as his fingers touched the box and it flared suddenly into light. Light, like the illumination of a witchlight rune-stone, poured from the box and through the ourobouros. Henry jerked back with a cry, but it was already too late. The creature sat up, lightning fast, and seized hold of him. Charlotte shrieked and threw herself forward, but she was not fast enough. The automaton, its chest still hanging grotesquely open, caught Henry under the arms and cracked his body like a whip.

There was a terrible snapping sound, and Henry went limp. The automaton tossed Henry aside and turned to cuff Charlotte brutally across the face. She crumpled beside her husband's body as the clockwork creature took a step forward, and seized hold of Brother Micah. Jem watched as his Brother slammed his staff down on the automaton's hand, but the creature did not even seem to notice. With a rumble of machinery that sounded like a laugh, it reached out and tore the Silent Brother's throat open.

Blood sprayed across the room and Cecily screamed. Jem's heart pounded harder than it had in days. Along with the others, he readied himself for battle; possibly his last.

Will-

"Well," said a very amused voice. "This is unexpected."

Will stirred as he felt Tessa sit bolt upright, pulling the heavy coverlet around her. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyelids fluttering open slowly.

"What-"

The room was filled with bright light. The torches had come on at full strength, and it was like the place was lit with daylight. The room was a wreck: their clothes scattered across the floor and the bed, the rug before the fireplace rucked up, the bedclothes wound about them. On the other side of the invisible wall was lounging a familiar figure in an elegant dark suit, one thumb hooked into the waistband of his trousers. His cat-pupilled eyes glimmered with mirth.

Magnus Bane.

"You might want to get up," he said. "Everyone will be here quite soon to rescue you, and you may prefer to have clothes on when they arrive." He shrugged. "I would, at any rate, but then, I am well known to be remarkably shy."

Will swore in Welsh. He felt like hitting Magnus for being so glib in this moment. He had sat up, the covers tucked about his waist, and had done his best to move his body to shied Tessa from Magnus's gaze. He was without a shirt, of course, and in the brighter light it could be seen where the tan of his hands and face faded into the paler white of his chest and shoulders, the red trails of Tessa's fingernails all over his back and shoulders as well. The white star mark on his shoulder gleamed out like a light, and Magnus's eyes went to it, and narrowed on the mark that Will did not yet know was there.

"Interesting," he said.

Will felt the urge for violence again as he made an incoherent noise of protest. "Interesting? By the Angel, Magnus-"

Magnus gave him a wry look. There was something in it-something that maybe Magnus knew that they didn't. "If I were a different person, I would have a lot to say to you right now," he said.

"I appreciate your restraint."

"You won't soon," said Magnus shortly. Then he reached up as if he were knocking on a door, and tapped the invisible wall between them. It was like watching someone plunge their hand into water-ripples spread out from the place where his fingers touched, and suddenly the wall slid away and was gone, in a shower of blue sparks. "Here," the warlock said, and tossed a tied leather sack onto the foot of the bed. "I brought gear. I thought you might be in need of clothing, but I didn't realize quite how in need."

From behind him, Will heard Tessa say, "How did you find us here? How did you know-which of the others are with you? Are they all right?"

"Yes, Quite a few of them are, hurrying through this place, looking for you. Now get dressed," he said, and turned his back, giving them privacy. Thank the Angel for small mercies, Will thought and rolled his eyes.

Tessa reached for the sack on the bed, scrabbled through it until she found her gear, and then stood up with the sheet wrapped around her body and dashed behind the tall Chinese screen in the corner of the room.

She did not look at Will as she went. He wondered if she couldn't look at him because she was feeling regret, or if she was just mortified that they been seen in such a manner. Or was it guilt, that either of them would do such a thing after Jem-

No! he mentally scolded, and instructed himself to get dressed. He listened to Magnus explain that he and Henry-bless Henry and his ingenuity-had managed, through a combination of magic and invention, to create a Portal that would transport them from London to Cadair Idris. It was extraordinary. Will nodded in relief as Magnus listed those who had come with him-Henry, Charlotte, the Lightwood brothers, Cyril, Sophie, Cecily, Bridget and a group of the Silent Brothers.

At the mention of his sister's name, Will began to pull on his clothes with even greater haste, and by the time Tessa stepped out from behind the screen, he was entirely dressed in gear, his boots laced up, his hands buckling on his weapons belt. He saw her and his face broke into a tentative smile.

"The others have all spread out through the tunnels to find you," Magnus said. "We were meant to take a half hour to search and then meet up in a central chamber. I will give you two a moment to-collect yourselves." He smirked, and pointed to the door. "I shall be outside in the corridor." Will wondered if Magnus would still help them if he did give him a black eye or two...

The moment the door closed behind him, Tessa was in Will's arms, her hands locked about his neck. "Oh, by the Angel," she said. "That was mortifying." He definitely agreed, but he wasn't too bothered by it at the moment. He was too happy in the bubble of a moment they were in.

Will slid his hands into her hair and was kissing her, kissing her eyelids and her cheeks and then her mouth, quickly but with fervor and concentration, nothing was more important. "Listen to you," he said, amused. "You said 'by the Angel.' Like a Shadowhunter." He kissed the side of her mouth. "I love you. God, I love you. I waited so long to say it." He wanted to say it over and over, wanted to shout it from the mountaintop.

Wondering if he should not voice this next question, Will pushed it aside and asked anyway, "Tessa, last night was not-not your first time, was it? You and Jem-" He didn't know how to finish or precisely what he was asking, certainly not details.

Her expression became hesitant. "Yes," she said quietly. "After we received Mortmain's letter. We met in the-" she squirmed, obviously uncomfortable.

Will held his hand up. "You need not explain more. That was something shared between you and Jem. I am glad the two of you had what little happiness you did." He meant it too. Will didn't have it in him to begrudge them for what they shared. It was a beautiful thing and something they both deserved.

Tessa curved her hands about the sides of his waist, holding him there. "Will," she said hesitantly. "You're not-sorry?"

"Sorry?" He looked at her in disbelief. Incredulous that she even had to ask. "Nage ddim-you're mad if you think I'm sorry, Tess." He brushed his knuckle along her cheek. "There is more, so much more I want to say to you-"

"No," she teased. "Will Herondale, with more to say?"

So much more, but Will ignored her jibe. "But now is not the time-not with Mortmain breathing down our necks, most likely, and Magnus outside the door. Now is the time to finish this. But when it's over, Tess, I will say everything to you I have always wanted to say. As for now-" He kissed her temple, and released her, his eyes searching her face. "I need to know you believe me when I say I love you. That is all."