Ummm…. Bring on the pitch forks I mean I didn't update for a good long while. BUT LOOK I UPDATED! A FULL CHAPTER! :D … no? Oh kay… x.x I do have a kinda not good enough excuse other than graduating… My friend was thinking about me making Tessa a character in it, and she wanted me to wait and see what exactly Tessa is so… I'm putting up a poll on my page. Don't know how, but I'm gonna find out! *thumbs up and cheesy smile*

To keep any confusion from happening:

- Bold means the Clockwork Angel text that is completely and totally owned by Cassandra Clare (Disclaimer! 0:)

- Normal means that it is my characters doing stuff, etc.

- Italics Are used for characters' thoughts and emphasis.

ALSO! Up until now I have been writing from Clary's perspective. The way I want to do things, that isn't gonna work no more. So! Welcome to third person omniscient, with a slight focus on Clary. If you feel horrifically confused: I'll just write it again. Deal? *nods and smiles*

.o.O.o.

Quite possibly being the worst nosegoeser on the planet, Clary lost. Not that she minded too much, she had wanted to read. However it was completely worth it to see Jace slap himself in the face. That was something someone should have caught on video for future blackmail use. Too bad no one did.

Attempts to read the poem at the beginning had been futile, in an attempt to actually make it somewhere into the rather large book Clary decided to forge ahead and made the executive decision to skip the poem.

Quieting everyone down Clary began the Prologue:

PROLOGUE "Did you really need to say that Clary?"

"Yes! Jace yes, just let me get more than a word into this book!" She let out a breath and continued.

London, April 1878. "How did this get into New York?"

"Simon! Maybe we'll find out if we can read the book." Clary huffed.

The demon exploded in a shower of ichor and guts. "Oh! I hope they had ways to get that out of their clothes back then!" Isabelle exclaimed in a mock tone of horror, earning her looks crying out 'really?' from the other three. "Who cares about their clothes Iz? Who are they?" Jace asked.

William Herondale "Heck yes! Owning is in my blood people! Haha!" "Oh shut up Jace, I'm sure your family isn't all that's in this book. Let your girlfriend read would you." Isabelle snapped not sure if she wanted Jace to hear anymore, it might make his ego even bigger than it already was which not only is quite a hard task to do, but would undoubtedly make spending time with him even harder. jerked back the dagger he was holding, but it was too late. The viscous acid of the demon's blood had already begun to eat away at the shining blade. He swore and tossed the weapon aside; it landed in a filthy puddle and commenced smoldering like a doused match. The demon itself, of course, had vanished-dispatched back to whatever hellish world it had come from, though not without leaving a mess behind.

"Jem!" Will called, turning around. "Where are you? Did you see that? Killed it with one blow! Not bad, eh?" Clary snorted still feeling like that was such a Jace thing to do as Simon quipped, "Sounds just like Jace." Before Jace could make a snide comeback Clary started again sternly looking at Jace with 'don't go there' look on her face.

But there was no answer to Will's shout; his hunting partner had been standing behind him in the damp and crooked street a few moments before, guarding his back, "Uh-oh" "Izzy, my gramps will be fine," Jace smirked, "awesomeness runs in the family." Clary took the opportunity to slap Jace and continue. Will was positive, but now Will was alone in the shadows. He frowned in annoyance-it was much less fun showing off without Jem to show off to. It was Isabelle's turn to snort, that was exactly like Jace. "What? Izzy you got something to say?" "Yes Jace, it's just that you sound just like you great-grandfather." This earned her a glare from Jace, who wasn't sure if he liked the figure yet, and a peck on the cheek from Simon, who loved it whenever Jace was picked on. "Just… Go on Fray." Clary raised an eyebrow, this had taken to many hours of practice to count, but it was worth it to her; the raise of an eyebrow said things words couldn't. She smiled to herself and went on. He glanced behind him, to where the street narrowed into a passage that gave onto the black, heaving water of the Thames in the distance. Through the gap Will could see the dark outlines of docked ships, a forest of masts like a leafless orchard. No Jem there; perhaps he had gone back to Narrow Street in search of better illumination. With a shrug Will headed back the way he had come.

Narrow Street cut across Limehouse, between the docks beside the river and the cramped slums spreading west toward Whitechapel. It was as narrow as its name suggested, "Shocker!" Simon's voice feigned shock while he sat unalarmed with an uncaring expression on his face. Clary and Isabelle snorted. lined with warehouses and lopsided wooden buildings. At the moment it was deserted; even the drunks staggering home from the Grapes up the road had found somewhere to collapse for the night. Will liked Limehouse, liked the feeling of being on the edge of the world, where ships left each day for unimaginably far ports. That the area was a sailor's haunt, and consequently full of gambling hells, opium dens, and brothels, didn't hurt either. "Sounds like a great place," Jace teased. Isabelle looked ready for a snide comeback that would start an argument so Clary intervened, "Shut. Up." It was easy to lose yourself in a place like this. He didn't even mind the smell of it-smoke and rope and tar, foreign spices mixed with the dirty river-water smell of the Thames.

Looking up and down the empty street, he scrubbed the sleeve of his coat across his face, trying to rub away the ichor that stung and burned his skin. The cloth came away stained green and black. There was a cut on the back of his hand too, a nasty one. "Sounds just like Jace," Izzy mused. He could use a healing rune.One of Charlotte's, preferably.She was particularly good at drawing iratzes. "Whoa! Does she have extra angel blood too?" Simon inquired. "Of course not Simon! Only I have extra!" Jace commented snidely. Clary looked at Jace sternly and he smiled back. Clary snorted and Jace frowned.

A shape detached itself from the shadows and moved toward Will. He started forward, then paused. It wasn't Jem, but rather a mundane policeman wearing a bell-shaped helmet, a heavy overcoat, and a puzzled expression. He stared at Will, or rather through Will. However accustomed Will had become to glamour, it was always strange to be looked through as if he weren't there. "I think it's great fun!" Jace laughed out. Will was seized with the sudden urge to grab the policeman's truncheon and watch while the man flapped around, trying to figure out where it had gone; but Jem had scolded him the few times he'd done that before, "I see the family resemblance," Simon said accusingly. and while Will never really could understand Jem's objections to the whole enterprise, it wasn't worth making him upset.

With a shrug and a blink, the policeman moved past Will, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about swearing off the gin before he truly started seeing things. Will stepped aside to let the man pass, then raised his voice to a shout: "James Carstairs! Jem! Where are you, you disloyal bastard?" "Owch. That's really rude," Isabelle frowned.

This time a faint reply answered him. "Over here. Follow the witchlight."

Will moved toward the sound of Jem's voice. It seemed to be coming from a dark opening between two warehouses; a faint gleam was visible within the shadows, like the darting light of a will-o'-the-wisp. "Did you hear me before? That Shax demon thought it could get me with its bloody great pincers, but I cornered it in an alley-"

"Yes, I heard you." The young man who appeared at the mouth of the alley was pale in the lamplight-paler even than he usually was, which was quite pale indeed. He was bareheaded, which drew the eye immediately to his hair. It was an odd bright silver color, like an untarnished shilling. "Uh… please tell me he wasn't best friends with some freaky vampire or something?" Jace palled. His eyes were the same silver, and his fine-boned face was angular, the slight curve of his eyes the only clue to his heritage. "What do curved eyes have to do with vampires?" Jace vehemently barked.

There were dark stains across his white shirtfront, and his hands were thickly smeared with red. "SEE! He is a vampire!" Jace screeched. "What is so bad about that?" Simon inquired somewhat defensively. Jace shut up, but looked like he wanted to say more.

Will tensed. "You're bleeding. What happened?" "HA!" Izzy exclaimed, "He is NOT a vampire, you owe me twenty dollars or holding my bags at a shopping trip." Jace went for his pocket knowing better than to hold her bags then realized, "HEY! We didn't make a bet!" Simon and Clary busted out in laughter. "Angel! It almost worked" Isabelle responded with a smile.

Jem waved away Will's concern. "It's not my blood." He turned his head back toward the alley behind him. "It's hers." "WHAT!" everyone other than Clary yelled.

Will glanced past his friend, into the thicker shadows of the alley. In the far corner of it was a crumpled shape-only a shadow in the darkness, but when Will looked closely, he could make out the shape of a pale hand, and a wisp of fair hair. "A dead woman?" Will asked. "A mundane?"

"A girl, really. Not more than fourteen." "Wha…" Jace looked like he had been slapped. "My family hung out with monsters?"

At that, Will cursed with great volume and expression. Jem waited patiently for him to be done.

"If we'd only happened along a little earlier," Will said finally. "That bloody demon -" "See Jace, Jem didn't kill her. He found her," Clary said nicely.

"That's the peculiar thing. I don't think this is the demon's work." Jem frowned. "Shax demons are parasites, brood parasites. It would have wanted to drag its victim back to its lair to lay eggs in her skin while she was still alive. But this girl-she was stabbed, repeatedly. And I don't think it was here, either. There simply isn't enough blood in the alley. I think she was attacked elsewhere, and she dragged herself here to die of her injuries."

"But the Shax demon-"

"I'm telling you, I don't think it was the Shax. I think the Shax was pursuing her-hunting her down for something, or someone, else." "I think this book finally got interesting," Isabelle thought aloud. "You don't think my great… great…" Jace paused to calculate, "great? grandfather is not interesting?" Jace tried to accuse. Izzy just shrugged.

"Shaxes have a keen sense of scent, " Will allowed. "I've heard of warlocks using them to follow the tracks of the missing. And it did seem to be moving with an odd sort of purpose." He looked past Jem, at the pitiful smallness of the crumpled shape in the alley. "You didn't find the weapon, did you?"

"Here." Jem drew something from inside his jacket-a knife, wrapped in white cloth. "It's a sort of misericord, or hunting dagger. Look how thin the blade is."

Will took it. The blade was indeed thin, ending in a handle made of polished bone. "That can't be common," Simon muttered. The blade and hilt both were stained with dried blood. With a frown he wiped the flat of the knife across the rough fabric of his sleeve, scraping it clean until a symbol, burned into the blade, became visible. Two serpents, each biting the other's tail, forming a perfect circle. "Ouroboros? What would that be doing on a blade?" Jace wondered aloud.

"Ouroboros, " Jem said, leaning in close to stare at the knife. "A double one. Now, what do you think that means?" "The end and beginning of the world of course," Jace stated.

"The end of the world," said Will, still looking at the dagger, a small smile playing about his mouth, "and the beginning."

Jem frowned. "I understand the symbology, William. I meant, what do you think its presence on the dagger signifies?" "Good question," Jace commended.

The wind off the river was ruffling Will's hair; he brushed it out of his eyes with an impatient gesture and went back to studying the knife. "It's an alchemical symbol, not a warlock or Downworlder one. That usually means humans-the foolish mundane sort who think trafficking in magic is the ticket for gaining wealth and fame." "Wait a minute! Magic trafficking?" Simon asked highly confused. "Simon, Simon, Simon. How did you not know about that. You see, little mundies would go around wishing they had magic, so downworlders would help them out. For a price." Jace replied sarcastically. Simon huffed and set back further into his chair. Clary looked pointedly at the two, "Can I read the rest of this without comment? We're gonna be here forever if you don't shut up!" The two looked back unamused, and didn't answer. She took it as a 'yes.'

"The sort who usually end up a pile of bloody rags inside some pentagram." Jem sounded grim.

"The sort who like to lurk about the Downworld parts of our fair city." After wrapping the handkerchief around the blade carefully, Will slipped it into his jacket pocket. "D'you think Charlotte will let me handle the investigation?"

"Do you think you can be trusted in Downworld? The gambling hells, the dens of magical vice, the women of loose morals ..." Jace snorted. Clary glared at him. "Oh come on! It was funny!" Jace defended. Clary just sighed and continued to read.

Will smiled the way Lucifer might have smiled, "I know that smile, it's Jace's," Clary inserted. "HEY! You interrupted yourself!" Simon said while Jace looked put off. Clary, noticing the look on Jace's face, "What? I've seen that smile on your face!" "Whatever. Just keep going or 'we'll be here forever,'" Jace smirked. moments before he fell from Heaven. "Would tomorrow be too early to start looking, do you think?"

Jem sighed. "Do what you like, William. You always do. " "HA! I am so happy to see that his…" Izzy fumbled for the right word, "arrogance? It'll have to do. Runs in the family." The others looked at her. "Yeah, arrogance works," Simon muttered, "Though I do prefer jac-" "Hey! We aren't done yet!" Clary exclaimed and then sent a 'I'll-be-killing-you-later' look.

Southampton, May. "What? Why did we skip a month and switch cities?" Jace remarked snarkily. The group groaned in response. Clary decided to just carry on.

Tessa could not remember a time when she had not loved "AND WE SWITCHED CHARACTERS!" "Jace! Shut up before I make Clary mark you or something!" Izzy snarled while signaling to get a move on reading. the clockwork angel. "Uh oh," Clary thought to herself. It had belonged to her mother once, and her mother had been wearing it when she died. After that it had sat in her mother's jewelry box, until her brother, Nathaniel, took it out one day to see if it was still in working order.

The angel was no bigger than Tessa's pinky finger, a tiny statuette made of brass, with folded bronze wings no larger than a cricket's. By this point everyone was looking at the tiny necklace Clary had on, she forged onward praying to the Angel that on one would mention what she had already deduced. It had a delicate metal face with shut crescent eyelids, and hands crossed over a sword in front. A thin chain that looped beneath the wings allowed the angel to be worn around the neck like a locket.

Tessa knew the angel was made out of clockwork because if she lifted it to her ear "STOP!" Izzy said emphatically. "You are wearing the same necklace that this character is. Where that Hell did you get it?" Clary looked at them innocently. Before Jace and Simon could reprimand her as well she spoke softly, "Magnus told me it was safe, he gave it to me." "Well! If Magnus says it's alright then by all means wear the darned thing!" Jace scolded. "HEY! Magnus said it's safe to wear, so I'm going to wear it alright!" Clary yelled back. Before anyone else could say anything she started again. she could hear the sound of its machinery, like the sound of a watch. Nate had exclaimed in surprise that it was still working after so many years, and he had looked in vain for a knob or a screw, or some other method by which the angel might be wound. But there had been nothing to find. With a shrug he'd given the angel to Tessa. From that moment she had never taken it off; even at night the angel lay against her chest as she slept, its constant ticktock, ticktock like the beating of a second heart.

She held it now, clutched between her fingers, as the Main nosed its way between other massive steamships to find a spot at the Southampton dock. Nate had insisted that she come to Southampton instead of Liverpool, where most transatlantic steamers arrived. He had claimed it was because Southampton was a much pleasanter place to arrive at, so Tessa couldn't help being a little disappointed by this, her first sight of England. It was drearily gray. "Yeah, England's a real downer. That's why we left remember." Simon muttered lamely. The sets of eyes that screamed 'really' faced him. "What! I was trying to lighten the mood!" After exchanging a look with Izzy Clary decided not to comment upon his random statement. Rain drummed down onto the spires of a distant church, while black smoke rose from the chimneys of ships and stained the already dull-colored sky. "Fine. Don't take a joke," Simon mumbled softly to himself causing Clary, Jace and Izzy to bust their guts laughing. Simon just glared at them and stuck out his tongue. "Seriously Clary are we almost done?" Simon complained. "Geez, you know you can leave right? If you aren't enjoying this." Clary joked. "Seriously though, only a few pages. I promise." A crowd of people in dark clothes, holding umbrellas, stood on the docks. Tessa strained to see if her brother was among them, but the mist and spray from the ship were too thick for her to make out any individual in great detail.

Tessa shivered. The wind off the sea was chilly. All of Nate's letters had claimed that London was beautiful, the sun shining every day. Well, Tessa thought, hopefully the weather there was better than it was here, because she had no warm clothes with her, nothing more substantial than a woolen shawl that had belonged to Aunt Harriet, and a pair of thin gloves. "What is she thinking!" Izzy exclaimed horrified, "She must have thought to get a new wardrobe for London! It's completely different!" She had sold most of her clothes to pay for her aunt's funeral, secure in the knowledge that her brother would buy her more when she arrived in London to live with him. "See Izzy, everything's fine!" Simon happily stated.

A shout went up. The Main, its shining black-painted hull gleaming wet with rain, had anchored, and tugs were plowing their way through the heaving gray water, ready to carry baggage and passengers to the shore. Passengers streamed off the ship, clearly desperate to feel land under their feet. So different from their departure from New York. The sky had been blue then, and a brass band had been playing. Though, with no one there to wish her good-bye, it had not been a merry occasion. "Well that's somewhat depressing," Jace sighed.

Hunching her shoulders, Tessa joined the disembarking crowd. Drops of rain stung her unprotected head and neck like pinpricks from icy little needles, and her hands, inside their insubstantial gloves, were clammy and wet with rain. Reaching the quay, she looked around eagerly, searching for a sight of Nate. It had been nearly two weeks since she'd spoken to a soul, having kept almost entirely to herself on board the Main. It would be wonderful to have her brother to talk to again.

He wasn't there. "Seriously! What kind of brother is this bastered?" Jace let out. The others looked at him strangely. "What? It's not like you all weren't thinking the same thing." He huffed. The wharves were heaped with stacks of luggage and all sorts of boxes and cargo, even mounds of fruit and vegetables wilting and dissolving in the rain. A steamer was departing for Le Havre nearby, and damp-looking sailors swarmed close by Tessa, shouting in French. She tried to move aside, only to be almost trampled by a throng of disembarking passengers hurrying for the shelter of the railway station.

But Nate was nowhere to be seen.

"You are Miss Gray?" "Whatever it is run! Just run and don not look back!" Simon screeched. "Dude, it's a book. Chill." Jace said looking as if he had been scarred for life. Izzy scooted away from him and looked at Clary with big eyes as if saying 'what the Angel?' Clary shrugged and looked to the book. The voice was guttural, heavily accented. A man had moved to stand in front of Tessa. He was tall, and was wearing a sweeping black coat and a tall hat, its brim collecting rainwater like a cistern. His eyes were peculiarly bulging, almost protuberant, like a frog's, his skin as rough-looking as scar tissue. Tessa had to fight the urge to cringe away from him. "Oh kay. I wouldn't fight that urge." Izzy admitted softly. But he knew her name. Who here would know her name except someone who knew Nate, too?

"Yes?"

"Your brother sent me. Come with me."

"Where is he?" Tessa demanded, but the man was already walking away. His stride was uneven, as if he had a limp from an old injury. After a moment Tessa gathered up her skirts and hurried after him. "Stupid," Clary muttered.

He wound through the crowd, moving ahead with purposeful speed. People jumped aside, muttering about his rudeness as he shouldered past, with Tessa nearly running to keep up. He turned abruptly around a pile of boxes, and came to a halt in front of a large, gleaming black coach. Gold letters had been painted across its side, but the rain and mist were too thick for Tessa to read them clearly. "That's thick." Jace commented lightly. "Like your head!" Simon laughed in the 'your mom' and 'that's what she said' voice. Clary had to jump on Jace to keep him from killing Simon so Izzy picked up the book and looked for where Clary left off and started before Jace could get Clary off of his lap.

The door of the carriage opened and a woman leaned out. She wore an enormous plumed hat that hid her face. "Miss Theresa Gray?"

Tessa nodded. The bulging-eyed man hurried to help the woman out of the carriage-and then another woman, following after her. Each of them immediately opened an umbrella and raised it, sheltering themselves from the rain. Then they fixed their eyes on Tessa.

They were an odd pair, the women. One was very tall and thin, with a bony, pinched face. Colorless hair was scraped back into a chignon at the back of her head. She wore a dress of brilliant violet silk, already spattered here and there with splotches of rain, and matching violet gloves. The other woman was short and plump, with small eyes sunk deep into her head; the bright pink gloves stretched over her large hands made them look like colorful paws.

"Theresa Gray," said the shorter of the two. "What a delight to make your acquaintance at last. I am Mrs. Black, and this is my sister, Mrs. Dark. Your brother sent us to accompany you to London." "I don't like them already." Jace said while slumping back into the seat admitting defeat. "Good, now that that's over I'm done reading. Here Clary." She gave the book back to Clary for her to finish the chapter. Clary stepped lightly over to her to grab the book and stepped back to sit down in front of Jace, still apprehensive of him attacking Simon for his earlier comment.

Tessa-damp, cold, and baffled-clutched her wet shawl tighter around herself. "I don't understand. Where's Nate? Why didn't he come himself?"

"He was unavoidably detained by business in London. Mortmain's couldn't spare him. He sent ahead a note for you, however." Mrs. Black held out a rolled-up bit of paper, already dampened with rain.

Tessa took it and turned away to read it. It was a short note from her brother apologizing for not being at the docks to meet her, and letting her know that he trusted Mrs. Black and Mrs. Dark-I call them the Dark Sisters, Tessie, for obvious reasons, and they seem to find the name agreeable!-to bring her safely to his house in London. They were, his note said, his landladies as well as trusted friends, and they had his highest recommendation.

That decided her. The letter was certainly from Nate. It was in his handwriting, and no one else ever called her Tessie. She swallowed hard and slipped the note into her sleeve, turning back to face the sisters. "Very well," she said, fighting down her lingering sense of disappointment-she had been so looking forward to seeing her brother. "Shall we call a porter to fetch my trunk?"

"No need, no need." Mrs. Dark's cheerful tone was at odds with her pinched gray features. "We've already arranged to have it sent on ahead." She snapped her fingers at the bulging-eyed man, who swung himself up into the driver's seat at the front of the carriage. She placed her hand on Tessa's shoulder. "Come along, child; let's get you out of the rain."

As Tessa moved toward the carriage, propelled by Mrs. Dark's bony grip, the mist cleared, revealing the gleaming golden image painted on the side of the door. The words "The Pandemonium Club" "WAIT! I was about to say that I did not trust these people. Where on earth does my favorite club come into play! That's not cool!" Izzy continued to rant even after Clary started again. curled intricately around two snakes biting each other's tails, forming a circle. "No way! THAT can NOT be good!" Simon exclaimed. "I agree with Simon. Was that symbol not on the knife previously mentioned?" Jace inquired. "Clary! Keep reading!" Izzy vehemently pushed. Tessa frowned. "What does that mean?" "Nothing you need worry about," "Yeah you do!" Clary muttered. said Mrs. Black, who had already climbed inside and had her skirts spread out across one of the comfortable-looking seats. The inside of the carriage was richly decorated with plush purple velvet bench seats facing each other, and gold tasseled curtains hanging in the windows.

Mrs. Dark helped Tessa up into the carriage, then clambered in behind her. As Tessa settled herself on the bench seat, Mrs. Black reached to shut the carriage door behind her sister, closing out the gray sky. When she smiled, her teeth gleamed in the dimness as if they were made out of metal. "Do settle in, Theresa. We've a long ride ahead of us."

Tessa put a hand to the clockwork angel at her throat, taking comfort in its steady ticking, as the carriage lurched forward into the rain. "Done." Clary said. The others sat there expectantly. "What? I'm not reading another chapter. I read the first one! Someone else read next!" Just then Maryse walked in, "Read what? Whatever it is it can wait. You all bed. Now." She looked ready to kill the person who disagreed so everyone got up and walked down the corridor to the bedrooms.

Simon waved good bye to the others and left to go back to his house. Izzy left quickly after that not even bothering to say goodnight to 'the lovebirds.' Clary sighed then smiled at Jace. He smiled back, not the cocky smile everyone else saw. Her smile, the one he only shared with her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked her to her door. Once they arrived, he leaned against the door jam and snaked his other arm around her pulling her against him. She laughed lightly and placed her hands on his shoulders, "Night Jace." She kissed him lightly then pulled away smiling. "Goodnight Clary." Jace serenely said and walked back to his own room.

.o.O.o.

So nine pages! I know that doesn't make up for three months, but… nine pages!

Review if you want!

Mezza