Will glanced toward Jem, who shrugged eloquently. “No point hiding till they drag us out, is there?”
“Speak for yourself,” Tessa hissed. “I don’t need Charlotte angry at me if we’re not supposed to be in here.”
“Don’t work yourself into a state. There’s no reason you’d have had any idea about the Enclave meeting, and Charlotte’s perfectly well aware of that,” Will said. “She always knows exactly who to blame.” He grinned. “I’d turn yourself back into yourself, though, if you take my meaning. No need to give too much of a shock to their hoary old constitutions.”
“Oh!” For a moment Tessa had nearly forgotten she was still disguised as Camille. Hastily she went to work stripping away the transformation, and by the time the three of them stepped out from behind the bookshelves, she was her own self again.
“Will.” Charlotte sighed on seeing him, and shook her head at Tessa and Jem. “I told you the Enclave would be meeting here at four o’clock.”
“Did you?” Will said. “I must have forgotten that. Dreadful.” His eyes slid sideways, and he grinned. “’Lo there, Gabriel.”
The brown-haired boy returned Will’s look with a furious glare. He had very bright green eyes, and his mouth, as he stared at Will, was hard with disgust. “William,” he said finally, and with some effort. He turned his gaze on Jem. “And James. Aren’t you both a little young to be lurking around Enclave meetings?”
“Aren’t you?” Jem said.
“I turned eighteen in June,” Gabriel said, leaning so far back in his chair that the front legs came off the ground. “I have every right to participate in Enclave activities now.”
“How fascinating for you,” said the white-haired woman Tessa had thought looked regal. “So is this her, Lottie? The warlock girl you were telling us about?” The question was directed at Charlotte, but the woman’s gaze rested on Tessa. “She doesn’t look like much.”
“Neither did Magnus Bane the first time I saw him,” said Mr. Lightwood, bending a curious eye on Tessa. “Let’s have it then. Show us what you can do.”
“I’m not a warlock,” Tessa protested angrily.
“Well, you’re certainly something, my girl,” said the older woman. “If not a warlock, then what?”
“That will do.” Charlotte drew herself up. “Miss Gray has already proved her bona fides to me and Mr. Branwell. That will have to be good enough for now—at least until the Enclave makes the decision that they wish to utilize her talents.”
“Of course they do,” said Will. “We haven’t a hope of succeeding in this plan without her—”
Gabriel brought his chair forward with such force that the front legs slammed into the stone floor with a cracking noise. “Mrs. Branwell,” he said furiously, “is William, or is he not, too young to be participating in an Enclave meeting?”
Charlotte’s gaze went from Gabriel’s flushed face to Will’s expressionless one. She sighed. “Yes, he is. Will, Jem, if you’ll please wait outside in the corridor with Tessa.”
Will’s expression tightened, but Jem bent a warning look on him, and he remained silent. Gabriel Lightwood looked triumphant. “I will show you out,” he announced, springing to his feet. He ushered the three of them out of the library, then swung out into the corridor after them. “You,” he spat at Will, pitching his voice low so that those in the library couldn’t overhear him. “You disgrace the name of Shadowhunters everywhere.”
Will leaned against the corridor wall and regarded Gabriel with cool blue eyes. “I didn’t realize there was much of a name left to disgrace, after your father—”
“I will thank you not to speak of my family,” Gabriel snarled, reaching behind himself to pull the library door shut.
“How unfortunate that the prospect of your gratitude is not a tempting one,” Will said.
Gabriel stared at him, his hair disarrayed, his green eyes brilliant with rage. He reminded Tessa of someone in that moment, though she could not have said who. “What?” Gabriel growled.
“He means,” Jem clarified, “that he doesn’t care for your thanks.”
Gabriel’s cheeks darkened to a dull scarlet. “If you weren’t underage, Herondale, it would be monomachia for us. Just you and me, to the death. I’d chop you into bloody carpet rags—”
“Stop it, Gabriel,” Jem interrupted, before Will could reply. “Goading Will into single combat—that’s like punishing a dog after you’ve tormented it into biting you. You know how he is.”
“Much obliged, James,” Will said, without taking his eyes off Gabriel. “I appreciate the testament to my character.”
Jem shrugged. “It is the truth.”
Gabriel shot Jem a dark glare. “Stay out of this, Carstairs. This doesn’t concern you.”
Jem moved closer to the door, and to Will, who was standing perfectly still, matching Gabriel’s cold stare with one of his own. The hairs on the back of Tessa’s neck had begun to prickle. “If it concerns Will, it concerns me,” Jem said.
Gabriel shook his head. “You’re a decent Shadowhunter, James,” he said, “and a gentleman. You have your—disability, but no one blames you for that. But this—” He curled his lip, jabbing a finger in Will’s direction. “This filth will only drag you down. Find someone else to be your parabatai. No one expects Will Herondale to live past nineteen, and no one will be sorry to see him go, either—”
That was too much for Tessa. Without thinking about it she burst out indignantly, “What a thing to say!”
Gabriel, interrupted midrant, looked as shocked as if one of the tapestries had suddenly started talking. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me. Telling someone you wouldn’t be sorry if they died! It’s inexcusable!” She took hold of Will by the sleeve. “Come along, Will. This—this person—obviously isn’t worth wasting your time on.”
Will looked hugely entertained. “So true.”
“You—you—” Gabriel, stammering slightly, looked at Tessa in an alarmed sort of way. “You haven’t the slightest idea of the things he’s done—”
“And I don’t care, either. You’re all Nephilim, aren’t you? Well, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be on the same side.” Tessa frowned at Gabriel. “I think you owe Will an apology.”
“I,” said Gabriel, “would rather have my entrails yanked out and tied in a knot in front of my own eyes than apologize to such a worm.”
“Gracious,” said Jem mildly. “You can’t mean that. Not the Will being a worm part, of course. The bit about the entrails. That sounds dreadful.”
“I do mean it,” said Gabriel, warming to his subject. “I would rather be dropped into a vat of Malphas venom and left to dissolve slowly until only my bones were left.”
“Really,” said Will. “Because I happen to know a chap who could sell us a vat of—”
The door of the library opened. Mr. Lightwood stood on the threshold. “Gabriel,” he said in a freezing tone. “Do you plan to attend the meeting—your first Enclave meeting, if I must remind you—or would you rather play out here in the corridor with the rest of the children?”