The Infernal Devices 01 - Clockwork Angel (27 page)

“Leave her alone, Magnus.” Will’s tone was sharp. “I must search the room. If you won’t help, at least try not to torment Tessa while I do it.” He moved toward the big oak desk in the corner of the room and began rummaging among the papers atop it.

Magnus glanced toward Tessa and winked. “I think he’s jealous,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Tessa shook her head and moved toward the nearest bookshelf. There was a book propped open on the middle shelf as if to display it. The pages were covered with bright, intricate figures, some parts of the illustrations gleaming as if they had been painted onto the parchment with gold. Tessa exclaimed in surprise. “It’s a Bible.”

“Does that astonish you?” Magnus inquired.

“I thought vampires couldn’t touch holy things.”

“It depends on the vampire—how long they’ve been alive, what kind of faith they have. De Quincey actually collects old Bibles. He says there’s hardly another book out there with so much blood on the pages.”

Tessa glanced toward the closed door. The faint swell of voices on the other side was audible. “Won’t we excite some sort of comment, hiding in here like this? The others—the vampires—I’m sure they were staring at us as we came in.”

“They were staring at Will.” In some ways Magnus’s smile was as unnerving as a vampire’s, even though he didn’t have fangs. “Will looks wrong.”

Tessa glanced over at Will, who was rummaging through the desk drawers with gloved hands. “I find that hard to credit coming from someone dressed as you are,” Will said.

Magnus ignored this. “Will doesn’t behave like the other human subjugates. He doesn’t stare at his mistress with blind adoration, for instance.”

“It’s that monstrous hat of hers,” said Will. “Puts me off.”

“Human subjugates are never ‘put off,’” said Magnus. “They adore their vampire masters, whatever they wear. Of course,
the guests were also staring because they know of my relationship with Camille, and are wondering what we might be doing here in the library … alone.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Tessa.

Tessa thought back to her visions. “De Quincey … He said something to Camille about regretting her relationship with a werewolf. He made it sound as if it were a crime she committed.”

Magnus, who was now lying on his back and twirling his walking stick over his head, shrugged. “To him it would be. Vampires and werewolves despise each other. They claim it has something to do with the fact that the two races of demons that spawned them were involved in a blood feud, but if you ask me, it’s simply that they’re both predators, and predators always resent incursions into their territory. Not that vampires are all that fond of the fey, or my kind either, but de Quincey rather likes me. He thinks we’re friends. In fact, I suspect he’d like to be more than friends.” Magnus grinned, to Tessa’s confusion. “But I despise him, though he doesn’t know it.”

“Then, why spend time with him at all?” asked Will, who had moved to a tall secretary between two of the windows and was examining its contents. “Why come to his house?”

“Politics,” said Magnus with another shrug. “He is the head of the clan; for Camille not to come to his parties when invited would be construed as an insult. And for me to allow her to go alone would be … careless. De Quincey is dangerous, and no less to those of his own kind. Especially those who have displeased him in the past.”

“Then you should—,” Will began, and broke off, his voice altering. “I’ve found something.” He paused. “Perhaps you should have a look at this, Magnus.” Will came over to the
table and set down on it what looked like a long sheet of rolled paper. He gestured for Tessa to join him, and unrolled the paper across the table’s surface. “There was little of interest in the desk,” he said, “but I did find this, hidden in a false drawer in the cabinet. Magnus, what do you think?”

Tessa, who had moved to stand beside Will at the table, gazed down at the paper. It was covered with a rough blueprint drawing of a human skeleton made up of pistons, cogs, and plates of hammered metal. The skull had a hinged jaw, open sockets for eyes, and a mouth that ended just behind the teeth. There was a panel in the chest too, just like Miranda’s. All along the left side of the page were scrawled what looked like notes, in a language Tessa could not decipher. The letters were utterly unfamiliar.

“Blueprint for an automaton,” said Magnus, cocking his head to the side. “An artificial human being. Humans have always been fascinated by the creatures—I suppose because they are humanoid but cannot die or be hurt. Have you ever read
The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices
?”

“I’ve never even heard of it,” said Will. “Are there any bleak moors in it, shrouded in mysterious mists? Ghostly brides wandering the halls of ruined castles? A handsome fellow rushing to the rescue of a beauteous yet penniless maiden?”

“No,” said Magnus. “There’s a rather racy bit about cogs halfway through, but really most of it is rather dry.”

“Then Tessa won’t have read it, either,” said Will.

Tessa glared at him, but said nothing; she
hadn’t
read it, and she wasn’t in the mood to let Will get to her.

“Well, then,” said Magnus. “It was written by an Arab scholar, two centuries before Leonardo da Vinci, and described how machines could be built that would mimic the actions
of human beings. Now, there is nothing alarming about that in and of itself. But it is this”—Magnus’s long finger brushed gently across the writing on the left side of the page—“that concerns me.”

Will leaned closer. His sleeve brushed Tessa’s arm. “Yes, that was what I wanted to ask you about. Is it a spell?”

Magnus nodded. “A binding spell. Meant to infuse demonic energy into an inanimate object, thus giving that object a sort of life. I’ve seen the spell used. Before the Accords vampires liked to amuse themselves by creating little demonic mechanisms like music boxes that would play only at night, mechanical horses that could ride only after sundown, that sort of silliness.” He tapped thoughtfully on the head of his walking stick. “One of the great problems of creating convincing automatons, of course, has always been their appearance. No other material quite gives the semblance of human flesh.”

“But what if one were to use it—human flesh, I mean?” Tessa asked.

Magnus paused delicately. “The problem there, for human designers, is, ah, obvious. Preserving the flesh destroys its appearance. One would have to use magic. And then magic again, to bind the demon energy to the mechanical body.”

“And what would that achieve?” Will asked, an edge to his voice.

“Automatons have been built that can write poems, draw landscapes—but only those they are directed to create. They have no individual creativity or imagination. Animated by a demon energy, however, an automaton would have a measure of thought and will. But any bound spirit is enslaved. It would inevitably be entirely obedient to whoever had done the binding.”

“A clockwork army,” Will said, and there was a sort of bitter humor in his voice. “Born of neither Heaven nor Hell.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Magnus said. “Demon energies are hardly an easy item to come by. One must summon demons up, then bind them, and you know what a difficult process that is. Obtaining enough demon energies to create an army would be well-nigh impossible and extraordinarily risky. Even for an evil-minded bastard like de Quincey.”

“I see.” And with that, Will rolled up the paper and slipped it into his jacket. “Much obliged for your help, Magnus.”

Magnus looked faintly puzzled, but his response was courteous: “Of course.”

“I gather you wouldn’t be sorry to see de Quincey gone and another vampire in his place,” said Will. “Have you actually observed him breaking the Law?”

“Once. I was invited here to witness one of his ‘ceremonies.’ As it turned out—” Magnus looked uncharacteristically grim. “Well, let me show you.”

He turned and moved toward the bookshelf that Tessa had been examining earlier, gesturing for them to join him. Will followed, Tessa beside him. Magnus snapped his fingers again, and as blue sparks flew, the illustrated Bible slid to the side, revealing a small hole that had been cut into the wood at the back of the shelf. As Tessa leaned forward in surprise, she saw that it offered a view into an elegant music room. At least, that was what she thought at first, seeing the chairs set up in rows facing the back of the room; it made a sort of theater. Rows of lit candelabras were set up for illumination. Red satin floor-length curtains blocked off the back walls, and the floor was slightly raised, creating a sort of makeshift stage. There
was nothing on it but a single chair with a high wooden back.

Steel manacles were attached to the arms of the chair, glittering like insect carapaces in the candlelight. The wood of the chair was blotched, here and there, with dark red stains. The legs of the chair, Tessa saw, were nailed to the floor.

“This is where they have their little … performances,” said Magnus, an undertone of distaste in his voice. “They bring out the human and lock him—or her—to the chair. Then they take turns draining their victim slowly, while the crowd watches and applauds.”

“And they enjoy that?” Will said. The disgust in his voice was more than an undertone. “The mundanes’ pain? Their fear?”

“Not all the Night Children are like this,” Magnus said quietly. “These are the worst of them.”

“And the victims,” said Will, “where do they find them?”

“Criminals, mostly,” said Magnus. “Drunkards, addicts, whores. The forgotten and lost. Those who will not be missed.” He looked squarely at Will. “Would you like to elaborate on your plan?”

“We begin when we see the Law being broken,” said Will. “The moment a vampire moves to harm a human, I will signal the Enclave. They’ll attack.”

“Really,” Magnus said. “How will they get in?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Will was unfazed. “Your job is to take Tessa at that point and get her safely out of here. Thomas is waiting outside with the carriage. Bundle yourselves into it and he’ll take you back to the Institute.”

“Seems a waste of my talents, assigning me to look after one moderately sized girl,” Magnus observed. “Surely you could use me—”

“This is a Shadowhunter affair,” said Will. “We make the Law, and we uphold the Law. The assistance you’ve given us so far has been invaluable, but we require no more from you.”

Magnus met Tessa’s eyes over Will’s shoulder; his look was wry. “The proud isolation of the Nephilim. They have use for you when they have use for you, but they cannot bring themselves to share a victory with Downworlders.”

Tessa turned to Will. “You’re sending me away as well, before the fighting starts?”

“I must,” said Will. “It would be best for Camille not to be seen to be cooperating with Shadowhunters.”

“That’s nonsense,” said Tessa. “De Quincey will know I—she—brought you here. He’ll know she lied about where she found you. Does she think that after this, the rest of the clan won’t know she’s a traitor?”

Somewhere in the back of her head, Camille’s soft laughter purred. She did not sound afraid.

Will and Magnus exchanged a look. “She does not expect,” said Magnus, “that a single vampire who is here tonight will survive the evening to accuse her.”

“The dead can tell no tales,” said Will softly. The flickering light in the room painted his face in alternating shades of black and gold; the line of his jaw was hard. He looked toward the peephole, eyes narrowing. “Look.”

The three of them jostled to get close to the peephole, through which they saw the pocket doors at one end of the music room slide open. Through them was the large candlelit drawing room; vampires began to stream through the doors, taking their places in the seats before the “stage.”

“It’s time,” Magnus said softly, and slid the peephole closed.

*   *   *

The music room was nearly full. Tessa, arm in arm with Magnus, watched as Will threaded his way through the crowd, looking for three seats together. He was keeping his head bowed, his eyes on the floor, but even so—

“They’re still looking at him,” she said to Magnus under her breath. “At Will, I mean.”

“Of course they are,” said Magnus. His eyes reflected light like a cat’s as they surveyed the room. “Look at him. The face of a bad angel and eyes like the night sky in Hell. He’s very pretty, and vampires like that. I can’t say I mind either.” Magnus grinned. “Black hair and blue eyes are my favorite combination.”

Tessa reached up to pat Camille’s pale blond curls.

Magnus shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

Tessa was spared answering; Will had found a set of chairs together, and was beckoning them over with a gloved hand. She tried not to pay attention to the way the vampires were looking at him as she let Magnus lead her toward the seats. It was true that he was beautiful, but what did they care? Will was just food to them, wasn’t he?

She sat down with Magnus on one side of her and Will on the other, her silk taffeta skirts rustling like leaves in a stiff wind. The room was cool, not like a room crowded with human beings, who would have been giving off body heat. Will’s sleeve slid up his arm as he reached to pat the pocket of his waistcoat, and she saw that his arm was dotted with goose bumps. She wondered if the human companions of vampires were always cold.

A rustle of whispers went through the room, and Tessa tore
her eyes from Will. The light of the candelabras did not reach the far recesses of the room; portions of the “stage”—the back of the room—were blotched with shadows, and even Tessa’s vampire eyes could not discern what was moving within the darkness until de Quincey appeared suddenly from the shadows.

The audience was silent. Then de Quincey grinned. It was a manic grin, showing fangs, and it transformed his face. He looked wild and savage now, wolflike. A murmur of hushed appreciation went through the room, the way a human audience might show appreciation for an actor with a particularly good stage presence.

“Good evening,” said de Quincey. “Welcome, friends. Those of you who have joined me here”—and he smiled directly at Tessa, who was too nervous to do anything but stare back—“are proud sons and daughters of the Night Children. We do not bend our necks beneath the oppressive yoke called the Law. We do not answer to Nephilim. Nor shall we abandon our ancient customs at their whim.”