“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.