I stumbled out of the Portal and quickly caught my balance, hurrying out of the way so that Maryse wouldn't crash into me. But as my eyes swept over my surroundings, I realized that I was not in the New York Institute.
I was in a long, stone room with a relatively low ceiling. There were no windows; what little I could see was illuminated by witchlights placed in torch-holders – or whatever they were called – sparsely spread along the walls. I looked around for Isabelle, Alec, and Jace, but all I saw were low tables – like workbenches – their tops scattered with gears and wire and a few tools.
Looking back at the Portal, I saw that it was appeared to be built right into the wall. It was probably a permanent Portal, but I didn't want to take any chances. Maryse should have followed me immediately – certainly no more than thirty seconds later – but it had been more than a minute now, and I didn't want the Portal to disappear. I stepped up to it and closed my eyes, picturing the New York Institute. I walked forward.
I felt the dizzying sensation of falling through nothingness and then the harsh reality of gravity reasserting itself. I opened my eyes and, even as I found my footing, I realized that I was in the same room.
Maybe the Portal in New York had closed for some reason. Maybe I should try to go back to Idris instead. This time, as I stepped into the rippling doorway, I thought of the field from which I had Portaled just minutes before, outside the city of Alicante.
I fell into the stone room again, this time failing to catch my balance and banging my knee on the ground. Rubbing it as I rose to my feet, I mentally reviewed what I knew about Portals, hoping that I could figure out what had gone wrong. Maybe I hadn't been thinking hard enough about my destination.
I tried twice more to go to each Idris and New York, and then I gave up.
At the far end of the long room was a large and old-looking wooden door. I started towards it. As I walked, I noticed that the stone walls and even the floor were carved with letters. Pausing by one of the witchlight torches, I examined a slab on the floor. It was carved with an inscription like a tombstone.
This must be a crypt!
Smiling, I quickly continued toward the door. If this was a crypt, then I was probably in a church. And if I was in a church with a Portal, then I was probably in an Institute. And as a Shadowhunter who had gotten lost, an Institute was probably the best place to be.
I turned the iron door handle and pushed. Nothing happened. I leaned against the door with all my weight, then pulled with similar vigour, but it was no good; the door must have been locked or barricaded on the other side. I took out my stele and faced off with the door. I couldn't quite call the image of the Open rune into my mind's eye. I gave it my best shot, but I must have gotten it wrong; the rune fizzled out, and the door didn't budge.
I banged on the door and shouted a bit, hoping to attract someone's attention. Then I examined the tables for anything that might help me unlock the door, make noise, or contact someone. I wished I had my phone, but I hadn't bothered to bring it with me; it wouldn't have worked in the Silent City or in Idris. It probably wouldn't have worked in this crypt, either, for that matter.
I found a short metal pipe, which I took over to the door and banged against the handle and the hinges. It didn't make as much of a noise as I'd hoped; yelling was louder. I tossed the pipe away. I'd just have to wait for someone to show up.
I went to the door every half hour or so to yell. After I'd thoroughly explored the contents of the work benches, I killed time by reading the inscriptions in the stones. Most of them were in English though some were in Latin, which meant I was in an English-speaking part of the world. Everything seemed so old that I thought I was probably in Europe – England, then.
The English ones didn't say anything particularly interesting, so I switched to practicing Latin. Once I'd grown tired of reading the same words over and over, I practiced drawing runes on the dusty tabletops with my finger.
After my seventh or eighth session of shouting at the door, I was feeling tired, so I retreated to a dark corner and curled up on the floor.
I don't know how long I slept. All I know is that at some point a loud bang startled me awake. I looked around wildly, then realized it had been the door crashing against the wall. Two people, mid-conversation, were now walking into my line of sight.
"But she didn't say why it must be done tonight?" said a male voice with an English accent.
Before the other figure had a chance to respond, I was getting to my feet and saying, "Excuse me!"
Both of them whirled to face me, their hands flying to their belts.
They were definitely Shadowhunters.
One of them wore gear, though it was cut was a bit differently than mine. His hand gripped a knife in his belt, ready to draw it. The other guy was dressed in an elaborate three-piece suit, but his Marked hand was poised to produce a weapon from the pocket of his jacket. I couldn't see either of their faces very well because the witchlight was at their backs, but they both had curly hair. I wondered if they were brothers.
"Sorry," I said, holding my hands out, palms forward, to show that they were empty. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just – well, I came through your Portal accidentally and…it won't let me leave. And the door was locked." I gestured to the door. "So I waited."
"You came through accidentally?" the besuited one said, entertained. "How does one accidentally use a Portal?"
"I went into it on purpose," I said, forcing myself not to roll my eyes, "but I was trying to go to the New York Institute. Instead, I ended up here."
"How bizarre," he said. "Are you certain you were thinking of New York when you entered the Portal?"
"Yes," I said. "I thought that might be the problem too, so I really focused and tried again but that Portal just keeps bringing me back here. I don't even know where 'here' is!"
"You are in London!" he said cheerfully. "Welcome to the world's greatest city." He gestured at our dank surroundings. I couldn't tell if he was trying to be ironic or not.
"Perhaps you ought to bring her upstairs to speak with my father," said the other Shadowhunter - the one who was wearing gear. It was the first time he'd spoken.
"I ought to? You can't mean to go through the Portal."
"Grace needs me to – "
"It is malfunctioning. I have never heard of a malfunctioning Portal. Have you?"
"No, but perhaps it will work for me. It seems that at worst, I will be deposited here again."
"Perhaps it will not work. Perhaps you will be trapped in the void, or shredded into a thousand pieces, or deposited in somebody else's crypt."
"I doubt that. Besides, I must try, at the very least. Grace asked me – "
"Very well! Since Grace cannot be expected to lift a finger for herself, we shall go."
With that, the Shadowhunter in the suit turned and marched toward the Portal.
"Wait!" said the guy in gear, striding after him. "Someone must stay with her." He gestured vaguely in my direction.
"No, no, no!" said Suit Guy loftily, turning around and walking backwards. "Whither thou goest, I will go, dear friend. And this time, I shall be the one to go first."
He had almost reached the Portal. Its bluish light illuminated his face. I could now see that he was about my age – definitely no older than twenty.
"Matthew," Gear Guy said in a defeated voice, coming to a stop.
Suit Guy – Matthew, I supposed – grinned and gestured for his friend to lead the way back to the door, which he did. Matthew stayed a few paces behind him, presumably making sure he didn't make a run for the Portal.
"Now," he said as they drew up to me – still positioning himself between his friend and the Portal, I noticed - "what to do about…"
"Alexis," I said, sticking out my hand.
His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but only for a moment.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alexis," he said, as he took my hand. "I am Matthew Fairchild."
While I tried to execute what my dad would call a firm handshake, with "firm" meaning "almost crushing the other person's bones", he just squeezed my hand lightly and briefly before releasing it. What resulted was weird and not very pretty.
I awkwardly mumbled something about it being a pleasure to meet him.
I made a decent attempt at the light squeeze move with the other, less chatty boy, whose name was James Herondale.
"My father is most likely in the drawing room," James said, starting toward the door.
"James's father is the head of the Institute," Matthew explained as we followed.
James paused at the door and said, "What is that?"
Matthew peered over his shoulder and said, "It looks like a poor attempt at an Open rune."
"It is a poor attempt at an Open rune," I chimed in. Matthew looked back at me as James examined the scorch marks in the door. "I couldn't quite remember what it looks like." I made a face.
Matthew laughed, and James turned his head to shoot him a look.
"You nearly had it right," James said encouragingly, and he opened the door.
We starting to climb a set of worn stone steps. It was so long that I couldn't see the top, though that actually may have been because the stairwell, like the crypt, was poorly lit.
"Are you a new Shadowhunter then?" Matthew asked from behind me.
"We need not interrogate her, Matthew," James said, clearly still annoyed at him.
"I'm simply curious," Matthew said lightly.
"My father will ask her all the same questions again," James said.
"I don't mind," I said, happy for any excuse to talk after being stuck alone in that room for the Angel knew how long. "Yeah, I'm a new Shadowhunter. I started training about a month ago. I was actually on the way back from getting my Voyance rune." I held my right hand.
I looked at it myself as I lowered my hand, and I couldn't help smiling a little. My first Mark.
"Congratulations," Matthew and James said in perfect unison.
It was kind of creepy. They made me think of the twin girls in The Shining, even though now that I'd seen them in the witchlight I knew they didn't look that much alike. Their faces were quite different, their colouring was different, and even their hair wasn't as similar as I'd initially thought; Matthew had tight, perfectly tamed blond curls while James's hair was wavy and tangled and black as the night. Still, they argued like brothers, and Matthew had been intent on protecting James from the rogue Portal. I wondered if they were parabatai. They did almost seem able to read each other's minds. Alec and Jace did that too. They often finished each other's sentences. It kind of creeped me out…but it also kind of made me jealous.
Whatever their relationship to one another, my two companions had fallen silent. I wondered if they were more suspicious of me than they were letting on.
We eventually emerged into an impressive entrance, which was also dimly lit but at least it wasn't damp. The windows were all stained glass, so I couldn't see anything outside. It did, however, seem to be dark out there.
James led us up a fancy staircase and then zigzagged through a few hallways until we came to a door that stood open. A rectangle of yellowish light from inside the room fell onto the floor.
James popped his head into the room.
"Father," he said. "We have a guest."
If James's dad said anything, I didn't hear it. A moment later, James stepped into the room and waved for me to follow.
I walked into what was apparently the drawing room. It appeared to be an old-fashioned living room with couches and chairs and coffee tables, all arranged around a huge fireplace. There was also a large wooden desk at the far end of the room, and behind it stood James's father.
Even if James hadn't said he was related to this man, it would have been obvious. He looked like James would probably look when he older, except that (as far as I could remember) James didn't share his shockingly blue eyes. Their wavy black hair was identical, except for the odd silver-gray strand on the older Herondale's head.
The second thing I noticed about the head of the London Institute was that he, like Matthew, was dressed in an old-fashioned suit. His jacket was thrown over the back of his chair, his tie was undone, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, but he was unmistakably dressed in a way that I'd never seen Shadowhunters dressed before – or mundanes, for that matter, outside of old movies. I hadn't given too much thought to Matthew's clothes, thinking that perhaps he was headed to a themed party, but it was strange that this man was also dressed that way. He obviously wasn't about to go to a party; he was already part-way undressed, and he looked tired. Maybe they'd already come home from the same party?
Something wasn't sitting right, though. The old-fashioned suits, coupled with the old-fashioned furniture and wallpaper in this room….
I mentally shook myself as we reached the desk. I was about to meet the head of an Institute. I needed to be focused and respectful.
James turned to me, opened his mouth, and seemed to draw a blank.
"Alexis," Matthew supplied.
"Yes – sorry," James said, his face turning a bit red. "Alexis, allow me to introduce the head of the London Institute, Will Herondale."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Herondale," I said. I was about to hold out my hand, but then I remembered the weirdness that had ensued the last time I'd done that, so I refrained.
"Please, call me Will," he said with a warm smile. He didn't move to shake my hand, thank the Angel.
"We discovered Alexis in the crypt just now," James said. "She says that she came through our Portal unintentionally, and that she attempted to return several times but the Portal would only bring her here."
"How odd," said Will. He frowned in confusion, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. "While I'm curious as to what business the two of you had in the crypt, this mystery is more pressing. Please, sit down, Alexis, and tell us your tale."
As I slid into one of the chairs facing the desk, I tried to figure out where to start. As I thought about it, I glanced at the mess that littered the worn desk: piles of papers, stacks of books, and fountain pens scattered all over the place.
The fountain pens set of another alarm in the back of my mind, though I couldn't pinpoint why. So what if Will liked fancy pens? My mom had owned a few too.
That was probably where I should start, I realized. I pushed away my pen-related apprehension and raised my eyes to look at the head of the Institute.
"I was raised in Canada," I began, "by my adoptive parents. They were mundanes. I don't know who my birth parents are. It was what mundanes call a closed adoption, which means that my parents didn't have access to any information about my biological family or my past. They got me and the adoption papers, and that was it. They didn't know anything about the Shadow World, and neither did I.
"They died," I said, looking down at the desk again; I could say it without crying now, but I couldn't look at anyone if I wanted to get the words out. "A few months ago. In June. There was a fire at our house. I wasn't home.
"I'd just turned 18, so I inherited all their money, and the insurance money. My home was gone, and I needed a distraction, so I decided to travel.
"I went to New York," I said, looking up at Will again. "I went to a Broadway show one night, and on my way back to the hotel I was attacked by a demon – not that I knew what it was at the time. Some Shadowhunters killed it, and when they realized that I could see them, they took me back to the Institute with them.
"So I've been training at the New York Institute since." I figured he knew the details of the training process, so I continued, "Yesterday, we went to the Silent City for my Marking ceremony. We went to Idris for the night, and this morning we were returning to New York."
I let my eyes fall to stare unseeingly at the desk as I thought about the details of that morning. I wanted to get everything right.
"I wasn't the first one to go into the Portal," I said, "because everyone else has used them so much more than I have. Alec, Jace, and Isabelle went before me, and Maryse was supposed to follow me. I have used Portals before – we went to Idris and back another time – and it worked fine. I could swear that I was thinking about the Institute today, just because I knew that's where I was going, but I popped out here. I thought maybe my mind had been wandering, so I tried again, and I tried going back to Idris too, but it just didn't work."
For the first time that day, I felt my control over my emotions slipping. It was frustrating to think that maybe I couldn't do something that I'd thought I could. To calm my thoughts, I looked at the documents on the desk. The paper they were written on looked rough and off-white, almost yellow. All of them were handwritten, in curling cursive. Many of them appeared to be letters.
A jolt went through me as I read the top of one of the letters, and then another.
"What's the date?" I said abruptly.
"I beg your pardon?" Will said.
"The date," I said, looking up at him again. "What's the date today?"
"It's the twenty-first of September," he said.
"And the year?"
He raised his eyebrows and said, "Nineteen-oh-three."
I felt like I was going to pass out. Or throw up. Or both.
"Alexis? Are you all right?"
My vision had blurred, so I blinked to clear it. I looked around at the letters, the pens, the furniture, the wallpaper, the shirt Will was wearing with its curved collar, his silk vest, the jumping shadows on the wall that were caused by the firelight…
"Did you say…that it's September 21st, 1903?"
"Yes," said Will. "Why? Have you lost some time since you were in Idris?"
"You could say that," I said faintly.
"When did you enter the Portal?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
"I've seen some strange things in my time, Alexis," he said, leaning forward. "Try me."
Something about his open nature, or his steady eyes, or – I hated to admit – the fact that he was remarkably good-looking for someone his age, made me want to tell him.
"September 21st," I said quietly, "2006."
He stared at me, his eyes wide in surprise. I turned my head to see similar gazes pointed at me. It was like a study in striking eye colour: Will's bottle blue, Matthew's bright green, and James's…yellow?
"I have to be dreaming," I said to myself.
"I was rather thinking that myself," Will said. "Did you say the twenty-first of September, two thousand and six?"
"I sure did," I said.
There was a long silence.
"You know what?" I continued eventually, thinking out loud. "If the Shadow World is real, why can't time travel be real?"
"Like in The Time Machine?" James said, confused.
"Do you have any evidence?" Matthew asked, sounding intrigued. "Strange white flowers, as it were?"
"I don't know," I said, digging through my pockets and my weapons belt.
"She does speak…a bit differently from us," James said to his dad.
"She's American," Matthew said dismissively, not taking his eyes off my progress, "and was raised by mundanes."
I almost corrected him on the subject of my nationality, but I decided that now was not the time.
Will shook his head. "James's mother had just come from America when I met her. She was also raised by mundanes. While she had a strong accent and used the occasional American phrase, especially at first, Alexis's speech is significantly more foreign."
Having found nothing in my pockets, and only my stele in my weapons belt, I turned to my clothes themselves. My gear was made of leather, which was anything but new technology. I spread my arms and looked down at my jacket.
"Aha!" I said. "Zipper! Has the zipper been invented yet?"
"The what?" Will said curiously.
I glanced at James's gear and saw that his jacket was done up with a long row of buttons.
"Look," I said, standing up.
I quickly unzipped my jacket part way and then zipped it up again. I glanced around at the faces peering up at me. I was worried they'd be looking at me like I was an idiot, but they did actually seem interested in the zipper.
"How does it work?" Matthew asked.
"I don't really know, to be honest," I said, unzipping it all the way. "You have to slot these bottom parts together to start it," I said, demonstrating, "and then as you pull up, it kind of knits the teeth on each side together." I zipped it up again as they all stared in apparent awe. "You can try it, if you want."
I unzipped again and took off my jacket, holding it out towards James, who was closest to me. He took it absently, still staring at me. I couldn't read the look on his face, but it was safe to say that it was no longer scientific curiosity. His cheeks were quickly becoming red.
I glanced at the others, who were also looking at me, dumbstruck. I looked down at my body, panicking, wondering if I had a demon tentacle sprouting out of my stomach or something, but I didn't see any cause for alarm.
I looked up again, about to ask what was wrong, but Will seemed to have recovered.
"Well," he said, trying not to laugh, "if that garment –" he gestured at my jacket "- has not convinced us that you are from a different era, this one certainly does."
I looked down again. I was wearing a black spandex tank top with racerback straps. It was tight, but not particularly low-cut. I wouldn't have worn it to school, but it was standard issue for wearing under gear, and fairly similar to the rash guard tops I'd worn all my life for jiu-jitsu. Shadowhunters saw each other in this kind of athletic clothing all the time, whether it be during training or just hanging around the Institute…
In 2006, I realized with a shock. Shadowhunters were comfortable seeing each other in small, tight-fitting clothes in 2006. Not in 1903.
"Shit!" I said, so surprised that I forgot to curse in Shadowhunter.
I snatched my jacket back from James as Matthew let out a surprised laugh.
I suddenly realized that people probably didn't swear as freely in 1903 – at least ladies in the company of men – and I nearly cursed again, but I caught myself. "I am so sorry," I said instead.
I hurriedly pulled my gear jacket back on. Meanwhile, James and Matthew seemed to have realized they were staring. James's eyes were now fixed determinedly at the far corner, red spots on his cheeks. Matthew was looking up at the ceiling with an amused expression. Only Will seemed capable of looking me in the face.
"I didn't realize –" I began, fumbling with the zipper. I was blushing at least as hard as James now, and I had a feeling that it wasn't quite as flattering on me. "I forgot – "
I got the zipper to catch and did it up all the way to the collar. I sat down, took a breath, and tried to speak again, suddenly very aware of my language.
"If that was inappropriate," I began, forcing myself to hold Will's gaze, "I apologize. I…That would have been normal where I come from, I promise. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm terribly sorry if I offended you."
"Not to worry," Will said. "I am not easily offended."
"It's true," Matthew jumped in. "You should hear his songs about demon pox."
"Perhaps another time," Will said, still trying not to laugh. "For the duration of your stay, Alexis, it may…behoove you to dress more conservatively than you are accustomed to doing. Some of my peers are more easily shocked than I am, somewhat like these fine young gentlemen," he said, shifting his glance to James and Matthew. "And some of these peers, being less fine than these young gentlemen, may allow it to affect their judgement of your character, or their behaviour towards you."
These last words had a bit more weight behind them, and they seemed addressed to James and Matthew as much as they were to me.
So cover up or people will think you're a whore and treat you like one, I translated in my head. Got it.
"I understand," I said, trying to communicate that I truly did get what he was saying, and that I was grateful for his understanding, while also fighting a surprising urge to giggle.
"Excellent!" Will said, jumping out of his seat. "I shall write to the Clave – if our Portal is malfunctioning I can't very well go to Idris…"
I lost track of what he was saying for a moment as I considered what it would be like to have the Clave descend upon me.
"By the Angel!" Will said, and I tuned back in. "Did you say that you left Idris this morning – or, well, a morning?"
"Yes," I said eagerly, wondering if he'd figured something out.
But all he said was, "You must be famished. I shall ask Bridget to bring some sandwiches and tea. I will fetch Tessa as well. She may have come across something related to temporal magic in her research."
As Will dashed out of the room, I couldn't even find it in myself to be disappointed. As soon as he had said the word 'sandwiches', my stomach had started to growl.
About ten seconds after Will left the room, James stood up as well.
"You'll never get out without them noticing now," Matthew said lazily.
"Make my excuses," James said. "Say that I've gone to sleep."
"They won't believe it for a second. Besides, the Portal is out of the question, James."
"I will take the carriage, then."
"Oh, they'll never notice that," Matthew said sarcastically.
"Then I shall walk," James retorted, and he started toward the door.
Matthew sighed. "Wait an hour," he called after James. "Once all of this has been sorted out, then pretend that you are going to sleep. We shall take my carriage."
James, seeming to see the merits of this plan, stalked over to the nearest armchair, which was right next to the fire, and flopped onto it.
"Really, James, you're a terrible anarchist," Matthew said.
"I suppose that is what I have you for," James replied, smiling for the first time since I'd met him.
Matthew shot him a grin, then spun in his chair to face me.
"Alexis," he said. "Tell me about the 21st century."
"Well," I stalled, wondering if this was a good idea. "What do you want to know?"
"Is Oscar Wilde recognised as the hero that he is?"
That was not what I was expecting.
"By some," I said uncertainly.
"Elaborate."
"Well," I said, "he isn't exactly considered the greatest writer of all time, but people quote him often enough. The Importance of Being Earnest is still popular, as far as plays go. I read The Picture of Dorian Gray for school."
"Brilliant!" he half-shouted.
"You read that at the Academy?" James asked. "Wait…do many girls attend the Academy?"
"No, James, she's talking about mundane school," Matthew said. "Haven't you been paying any attention? Never mind, of course you haven't. Even now, mundanes have schools for girls."
"We all go to school together," I said. "Boys and girls."
"Really?" said Matthew, intrigued.
"Yeah," I said, a bit defiantly. "Why shouldn't we?"
"I never said you shouldn't," he said, unfazed.
"Wait, do you not train with female Shadowhunters?"
"We do sometimes," James said, "but usually within families."
"What about at Institutes? In my time, orphaned Shadowhunters live at the Institutes, so people from different families end up living together."
"I'm not sure," James said. "No one has needed to stay here for more than a few days in my lifetime. However, when my parents were young, there were more people living here. It is how they met one another."
"And how they know my parents," Matthew added.
"And it is how my father met his parabatai," James continued.
"And it is how they all know Jessamine," Matthew said.
"Who's Jessamine?" I asked.
"She's a ghost who lives here at the Institute," James said.
I blinked in disbelief. Before I could think of a possible response, the door swung open and Will came into the room with a young woman. She was tall – nearly as tall as Will – with brown hair and a serious face that didn't look much older than mine or James's or Matthew's. She was wearing a long dress with elbow-length puffed sleeves; it made me think of Anne of Green Gables. I didn't see any Marks on her skin.
"Alexis," Will said, as they came across the room. "May I introduce my wife, Tessa?" He grinned, seeming to get a kick out of referring to her as his wife.
She did seem rather young for him. Older men often married younger women back in the day, I guess. But could she possibly be James's mother? Maybe she wasn't. We were long past Henry VII, right? So this could be Will's second wife? Maybe they were newly married?
I pushed all these thoughts from my head and stood up to greet her. I nearly went for a handshake again before remembering that these people didn't seem to do that.
Instead, I said, "It's a pleasure to meet you." That had met with success the last few times I'd used it.
"Welcome, Alexis," Tessa said, smiling. "Do come and sit by the fire. You must be freezing! Will said that you've been trapped in the crypt all afternoon."
I laughed. "That makes it sound a lot worse than it was, but thank you."
I did settle into a chair beside the fireplace. A moment later, a woman with bright red hair appeared with a silver tray and set it down on the coffee table. On it was a plate loaded with little triangular sandwiches as well as a teapot with cups, saucers, spoons, cream, and sugar.
"Thank you, Bridget!" Will called as she quickly disappeared.
Tessa, who was pouring out tea, asked me, "Do you take cream and sugar?"
"Yes, please," I said, even though I didn't really drink tea. Whenever I had coffee drinks, though, I loaded up on cream and sugar and whipped cream and flavour shots – anything to disguise the taste of the drink itself. What I really wanted was a giant bottle of water, but when in Rome…
Tessa handed me a teacup on a saucer and held out the tray of sandwiches, urging me to take one. I could have eaten about ten. I wondered if Tessa read it in my expression because she set the plate down on the end table that was right beside me.
However, Matthew, who had gotten up from his chair by the desk, came over to sit on the couch, swiping a sandwich along the way. I tried not to glare.
After handing out tea, Tessa sat beside him, with Will on her other side.
"As I was saying to Tessa," Will said, watching me closely, "the Council will almost certainly wish to speak with you, Alexis. I think it likely that they will want to question you with the Mortal Sword."
"That's fine!" I said, my eyes wide in earnest. "Well, I know I don't really have any say in the matter, but I mean…I won't complain. I wouldn't believe me, either."
Will frowned, saying, "I was hoping to speak to Charlotte before bringing this before the rest of the Council. I don't suppose she has cut her stay in Idris short, has she, Matthew?"
"Not to my knowledge," Matthew said, while I wondered who Charlotte was.
"I suppose I'll send her a letter in the morning," Will said, "unless Ragnor Fell would be willing to open a Portal for us."
"It may be that all Portals are functioning improperly at the moment," Tessa said, putting her hand on top of Will's. "It would be safer to write."
"Perhaps I should go to the Silent Brothers," Will said. "I can reach them quickly, and if anyone would know about magic related to time, they would."
"More so than a warlock?" Tessa said skeptically, but with a smile.
Will looked at her, confused. "You said you hadn't read anything on the subject."
I suddenly realized why Tessa didn't have any Marks, not even a single Voyance rune like me. She didn't have an obvious warlock's mark, but I'd read that some were more subtle than others. She could also be wearing a glamour that I hadn't seen through – but that was unlikely now that I had my Voyance rune.
"I meant Ragnor," Tessa said.
"Oh, right," Will said. "It might be best to keep this quiet for the time being. It's one thing to go straight to Jem or Charlotte without informing the rest of the Council, but quite another to go bandying it about Downworld."
Tessa sighed. "I suppose you're right. Alexis, I imagine that they will want to talk to you promptly, probably tomorrow."
"Alright," I said.
"We'll lend you a dress, of course," Tessa said, "either one of mine or one of Lucie's –"
"Alexis is taller than Lucie," James said absently.
"Perhaps it would be better if Alexis wore her gear," Will said. "Tess, have you seen her – what's it called?"
"A zipper?" I smiled.
"Yes – Have you seen her zipper? Henry will have a field day. It certainly looks like a new invention."
"By the Angel, here we go again," Matthew muttered, taking another sandwich. This time, I didn't suppress my glare.
I wondered if Tessa saw it, because she swatted at Matthew's arm. "Leave some of those for Alexis," she reprimanded, but affectionately.
"She cannot possibly eat all of these," Matthew said, gesturing at the plate.
"She's not had anything since breakfast," Tessa said.
"Are you planning to eat all of the sandwiches, Alexis?" Matthew asked. He directed a charming smile my way, clearly confident that I was going to say no.
"Quite possibly," I said instead, nodding seriously.
Tessa and Will broke into laughter. Even James smiled.
Matthew, however, was glaring at me sulkily. I couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. Regardless, I glared right back.
"Lucie will be dreadfully disappointed that she wasn't here to witness your arrival," Tessa said.
"Our daughter," Will clarified with a smile.
"It's a shame I couldn't meet her," I said politely.
I stood up to refill my teacup. When I sat down again, I took another sandwich and then lifted the plate to offer it to Matthew, opting to make peace.
"No, thank you," he said primly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I'm watching my figure."
I snorted; like all of the Shadowhunters I'd ever met, he was visibly fit.
I tried to get the conversation back on track.
"I think that your gear is a bit longer than mine," I said, "so it might be a good idea for me to borrow something."
"And I doubt that anyone on the Council will be terribly impressed by the zipper," Matthew said. "They'll think my father made it."
"The Mortal Sword will bring out the truth anyway," James shrugged.
The debate continued. I didn't have much to contribute, so I finished my tea and polished off one last sandwich.
"We can decide upon clothing once we receive a response from the Clave," Tessa said. "In the meantime, Alexis, allow me to show you to a bedroom. You must be exhausted."
I said goodnight to Will, James, and Matthew, and I followed Tessa out of the drawing room.
She led me through an absolute maze of hallways, and I did my best to memorize the turns.
"I've asked Bridget to prepare a room and lay out a nightgown for you," Tessa said as we walked.
We turned a corner, and Tessa pointed out the first door as the bathroom. The third door after that was open.
"Just in here," Tessa said, leading me into the room.
It was enormous. There was a four-poster bed, a bedside table, several large armchairs, a fireplace, a wardrobe, a desk, and a vanity with a big bowl, a pitcher, and a pile of towels. The walls and floor were stone, but there were paintings on the wall and plush rugs thrown all around the room. Two tall windows that were made up of tiny diamond-shaped panes of glass reflected the room back at me. It was then that I realized that the light coming from those torch bracket things wasn't produced by fire or by light bulbs – it was bright white witchlight.
I thanked Tessa and she said goodnight, closing the door behind her as she left. I went to look at the vanity in the corner. It was as I suspected: there was a small bowl that was shaped a bit like a sink basin, but it wasn't sunk into the counter. Sitting next to it was a matching pitcher of water. I suddenly realized how badly I needed to go to the washroom. I was mildly terrified of what I might find there.
I stepped into the hall and went down three doors. As I walked into the washroom, the witchlights flared up of their own accord.
I was relieved to see that everything was surprisingly modern. The floor was covered with a pattern of small tiles. There was a big claw-footed bath tub, a toilet, and a sink. They had running water, thank the Angel. There were separate faucets for hot and cold water, and there was no shower head. Both of those things seemed a little weird to me, but they were certainly manageable.
I ran back to my room to grab a towel and the nightgown. I also found soap (but no shampoo), an old-looking hairbrush, a toothbrush with a thick wooden handle, and a round tin that was labelled "Tooth Powder", so I took those with me too.
I turned on the taps for the bath, sticking my hand in the pooling water at the bottom in an attempt to find a comfortable temperature. Once I got it right, I let it run and turned to tackle the tooth powder.
Unfortunately, the tin did not have instructions on it. I pried off the lid and – unsurprisingly – was met with a white powder. Not knowing what else to do, I wet my toothbrush, took a pinch of the powder, sprinkled it on the toothbrush, and shoved it all into my mouth.
As I brushed, the powder foamed up a bit in my mouth, though not as much as toothpaste. I'd thought it would taste horrible, but it actually wasn't bad. It seemed to be flavoured with some sort of flower extract. It was kind of chalky and hard to rinse out of my mouth, but overall, the experience was far more pleasant than I'd expected.
I returned to the bath and found that the hot water was more lukewarm now. I shut off the taps even though the tub was only half full. It was a giant tub, however, so when I climbed in, I found that I still had plenty of water. I used the bar soap to wash my body and my hair, dunking my head under the water like I'd done as a little kid. When I finished, I towelled off and then threw my tank top, underwear, and socks into the bath and washed them by hand. I would hang them by the fire to dry overnight and then put them on again in the morning. I didn't wash my gear or my bra; they probably wouldn't dry in time, and they were fine anyway.
After I'd wrung out my clothes, I left them hanging over the edge of the tub and I let the water drain. I went to the mirror, and I parted my hair with my fingers before beginning to pull the soft brush through it. As I looked into the mirror, I was struck by a feeling of surrealism. My reflection stared back, the same as usual: oval-shaped face, straight sunflower blonde hair hanging past my shoulders, and blue eyes that weren't as sparkly as they used to be. (At least the shadowy bags underneath had faded; Shadowhunter training was exhausting enough that I could sleep these days.) But everything beyond my face – from the loose white nightgown to the wooden-framed mirror itself– was completely foreign. It was as though I'd found myself in a Jane Austen novel. Or maybe it was more like Titanic…history wasn't my strong suit.
It was entirely possible that none of this was real. When I'd first discovered that I was a Shadowhunter, I'd often wondered if I was dreaming or even having a psychotic break. Of course, my senses seemed to confirm the existence of demons and Portals and angel-human hybrids. It was just so unlikely though.
After a few days, I'd concluded that even if this world was imaginary, I might as well jump in with both feet; it was better than the nightmare I was coming from anyway.
So I would do the same now. After all, Shadowhunters said that all the stories were true. Why wouldn't that include time travel stories?
I collected my stuff and went back to my room. I was exhausted, even though I hadn't done any exercise today. I hung my wet clothes on a chair close to the fire (but not too close). Then I went to look at the witchlights, trying to figure out how to put them out. I tapped one with my finger experimentally, and it faded out. I repeated the process with all the others except the one at the far end of the room; I left it on like a nightlight. Then I crawled into the double bed, curled up, and was soon fast asleep.