“I agree,” said Lilian. “I for one am concerned about this matter of the clockwork creatures. Making clockwork girls is one thing, but what if he’s making a clockwork army?”
“That’s pure speculation, Lilian,” said Frederick Ashdown.
Lilian dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “An automaton is neither seraph nor demon in its alliance; it is not one of the children of God or of the Devil. Would it be vulnerable to our weapons?”
“I think you’re imagining a problem that does not exist,” said Benedict Lightwood. “There have been automatons for years now; mundanes are fascinated with the creatures. None has posed a threat to us.”
“None has been made using magic before,” said Charlotte.
“That you know of.” Lightwood looked impatient.
Charlotte straightened her back; only Tessa and the others, looking down upon her, could see that her hands were knotted tightly together in her lap. “Your concern, Benedict, seems to be that we will unfairly punish de Quincey for a crime he has not committed, and in doing so jeopardize the relationship between the Night Children and the Nephilim. Am I correct?”
Benedict Lightwood nodded.
“But all that Will’s plan calls for is for us to observe de Quincey. If we do not see him breaking the Law, we will not act against him, and the relationship will not be threatened. If we do see him breaking the Law, then the relationship is a lie. We cannot allow abuse of Covenant Law, however … convenient it might be for us to ignore.”
“I agree with Charlotte,” said Gabriel Lightwood, speaking up for the first time, and much to Tessa’s surprise. “I think her plan is a sound one. Except in one part—sending the shape-shifter girl in there with Will Herondale. He isn’t even old enough to be at this meeting. How can he be trusted with a mission of this gravity?”
“Smarmy little prig,” Will snarled, leaning farther forward, as if he longed to reach through the magical portal and strangle Gabriel. “When I get him alone …”
“I ought to go in with her instead,” Gabriel went on. “I can look out for her a bit more. Instead of simply looking out for myself.”
“Hanging’s too good for him,” agreed Jem, who looked as if he were trying not to laugh.
“Tessa knows Will,” protested Charlotte. “She trusts Will.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” muttered Tessa.
“Besides,” Charlotte said, “it’s Will who devised this plan, Will who de Quincey will recognize from the Pandemonium Club. It’s Will who knows what to search for inside de Quincey’s town house to tie him to the clockwork creatures and the murdered mundanes. Will’s an excellent investigator, Gabriel, and a good Shadowhunter. You have to give him that.”
Gabriel sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t have to give him anything.”
“So Will and your warlock girl enter the house, endure de Quincey’s party until they observe some contravention of the Law, and then signal to the rest of us—how?” inquired Lilian.
“With Henry’s invention,” Charlotte said. There was a slight—only very slight—tremble to her voice as she said it. “The Phosphor. It will send up a flare of extremely bright witchlight, illuminating all the windows in de Quincey’s house, just for a moment. That will be the signal.”
“Oh, good Lord, not one of Henry’s inventions again,” said George.
“There were some complications with the Phosphor at first, but Henry demonstrated it for me last night,” Charlotte protested. “It works perfectly.”
Frederick snorted. “Remember the last time Henry offered us the use of one of his inventions? We were all cleaning fish guts off our gear for days.”
“But it wasn’t supposed to be used near water—,” Charlotte began, still in the same quavering voice, but the others had already begun talking over her, chattering excitedly about Henry’s failed inventions and the dreadful consequences thereof, while Charlotte lapsed into silence. Poor Charlotte, Tessa thought. Charlotte, whose sense of her own authority was so important, and so dearly bought.
“Bastards, talking over her like that,” muttered Will. Tessa looked at him in astonishment. He was staring intently down at the scene before him, his fists tight at his sides. So he was fond of Charlotte, she thought, and she was surprised how pleased she was to realize it. Perhaps it meant Will actually did have feelings after all.
Not that it had anything to do with her, whether he did or not, of course. She looked hastily away from Will, at Jem, who seemed equally out of countenance. He was biting his lip. “Where is Henry? Shouldn’t he have arrived by now?”
As if in answer, the door to the storage room banged open with a crash, and the three of them spun around to see Henry standing wild-eyed and wild-haired in the doorway. He was clutching something in his hand—the copper tube with the black button on the side that had nearly caused Will to break his arm falling off the sideboard in the dining room.
Will eyed it fearfully. “Get that blasted object away from me.”
Henry, who was red-faced and sweating, stared at them all in horror. “Hell,” he said. “I was looking for the library. The Enclave—”
“Is meeting,” said Jem. “Yes, we know. It’s a flight down from here, Henry. Third door on the right. And you’d better go. Charlotte’s waiting for you.”
“I know,” Henry wailed. “Blast, blast, blast. I was just trying to get the Phosphor right, is all.”
“Henry,” Jem said, “Charlotte needs you.”
“Right.” Henry turned as if to dart out of the room, then swung around and stared at them, a look of confusion passing over his freckled face, as if he had only now had cause to wonder why Will, Tessa, and Jem might be crouching together in a mostly disused storage room. “What are you three doing in here, anyway?”
Will tilted his head to the side and smiled at Henry. “Charades,” he said. “Massive game.”
“Ah. Right, then,” said Henry, and dashed out the door, letting it swing shut behind him.
“Charades.” Jem snorted in disgust, then leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, as Callida’s voice drifted up from below. “Honestly, Charlotte,” she was saying, “when will you admit that Henry hasn’t anything to do with running this place, and that you’re doing it all by yourself? Perhaps with help from James Carstairs and Will Herondale, but neither of them is any older than seventeen. How much help can they be?”
Charlotte made a murmured noise of deprecation.
“It’s too much for one person, especially someone your age,” said Benedict. “You’re only twenty-three years old. If you’d like to step down—”
Only twenty-three! Tessa was astonished. She’d thought Charlotte was much older, probably because she exuded such an air of competence.
“Consul Wayland assigned the running of the Institute to me and my husband five years ago,” Charlotte replied sharply, apparently having found her voice again. “If you have some issue with his choice, you should take it up with him. In the meantime I shall direct the Institute as I see fit.”