He raised his head. His eyes were open, but there was no color to them. They were all white, like marbles. She could see the moon reflected in them.
“Jem!”
He tried to rise to his feet, but his knees gave out; he slumped to the ground, blood running from the corners of his mouth. The cane had rolled from his hand, almost to Tessa’s feet.
The creatures had reached the foot of the steps; they began to surge upward, lurching a little, the one with the skinned hands in the lead. Tessa flung herself against the doors of the Institute, pounding her fists against the oak. She could hear the hollow reverberations of her blows echoing on the other side, and despaired. The Institute was so huge, and there was no time.
At last she gave up. Turning away from the door, she was horrified to see that the leader of the creatures had reached Jem; it was bending over him, its skinned metal hands on his chest.
With a cry she seized up Jem’s cane and brandished it. “Get away from him!” she cried.
The creature straightened up, and in the moonlight, for the first time, she saw its face clearly. It was smooth, almost featureless, only indentations where the eyes and mouth should have been, and no nose. It raised its skinned hands; they were stained dark with Jem’s blood. Jem himself lay very still, his shirt torn, blood pooling blackly around him. As Tessa stared in horror, the clockwork man wiggled his bloody fingers at her, in a sort of grotesque parody of a wave—then turned and sprang away down the steps, almost scuttling, like a spider. He dashed through the gates and was lost to view.
Tessa moved toward Jem, but the other automatons moved swiftly to block her way. They were all as blank-faced as their leader, a matching set of faceless warriors, as if there had not quite been time to finish them.
With a whir-click a pair of metal hands reached for her, and she swung the cane, almost blindly. It connected with the side of a clockwork man’s head. She felt the impact of wood against metal ringing up her arm, and he staggered to the side, but only for a moment. His head whipped back around with incredible speed. She swung again, the cane slamming against his shoulder this time; he lurched, but other hands flashed out, seizing the cane, yanking it from her grasp with such force that the skin of her hand burned. She remembered the painful strength of Miranda’s grip on her, as the automaton who had snatched the cane from her brought it down across his knee with stunning force.
It snapped in half with an awful sound. Tessa whirled to run, but metal hands clamped down on her shoulders, yanking her back. She struggled to pull free—
And the doors of the Institute burst open. The light that poured from them blinded her momentarily, and she could see nothing but the outline of dark figures, ringed in light, spilling from the church’s interior. Something whistled by her head, grazing her cheek. There was the grinding sound of metal on metal, and then the clockwork creature’s arms relaxed and she fell forward onto the steps, choking.
Tessa looked up. Charlotte stood above her, her face pale and set, a sharp metal disc in one hand. Another, matching, disc was buried in the chest of the mechanical man who had held her. He was twisting and spasming in a circle, like a malfunctioning toy. Blue sparks flew from the gash in his neck.
Around him the rest of the creatures were spinning and lurching as the Shadowhunters converged on them, Henry bringing his seraph blade down in an arc, slicing open the chest of one of the automatons, sending it reeling and jerking into the shadows. Beside him was Will, swinging what looked like a sort of scythe, over and over, chopping another of the creatures to bits with such fury that it sent up a fountain of blue sparks. Charlotte, darting down the steps, threw the second of her disks; it sheared through the head of a metal monster with a sickening noise. He crumpled to the ground, leaking more sparks and black oil.
The remaining two creatures, seeming to think better of the situation, turned and sprang toward the gates. Henry darted after them with Charlotte on his heels, but Will, dropping his weapon, turned and raced back toward the steps. “What happened?” he shouted at Tessa. She stared, too dazed to answer. His voice rose, tinged with furious panic. “Are you hurt? Where’s Jem?”
“I’m not hurt,” she whispered. “But Jem, he collapsed. There.” She pointed to where Jem lay, crumpled in the shadows beside the door.
Will’s face went blank, like a slate wiped clean of chalk. Without looking at her again he raced up the stairs and dropped down by Jem, saying something in a low voice. When there was no reply, Will raised his head, shouting for Thomas to come help him carry Jem, and shouting something else, something Tessa couldn’t make out through her dizziness. Perhaps he was shouting at her. Perhaps he thought this was all her fault? If she hadn’t grown so angry, if she hadn’t run away and made Jem follow her—
A dark shadow loomed in the lit doorway. It was Thomas, tousle-haired and serious, who went without a word to kneel down by Will. Together they lifted Jem to his feet, an arm slung around each of their shoulders. They hurried inside without a backward glance.
Dazed, Tessa looked out over the courtyard. Something was strange, different. It was the sudden silence after all the clamor and noise. The destroyed clockwork creatures lay in shattered pieces about the courtyard, the ground was slick with viscous fluid, the gates hung open, and the moon shone blankly down on everything just as it had shone down on her and Jem on the bridge, when he had told her that she was human.
15
FOREIGN MUD
Ah God, that love were as a flower or flame,
That life were as the naming of a name,
That death were not more pitiful than desire,
That these things were not one thing and the same!
—Algernon Charles Swinburne, “Laus Veneris”
“Miss Tessa.” The voice was Sophie’s. Tessa turned and saw her framed in the doorway, a lantern swinging from her hand. “Are you all right?”
Tessa felt pitifully grateful to see the other girl. She had been feeling so alone. “I’m not hurt. Henry has gone after the creatures, though, and Charlotte—”
“They’ll be just fine.” Sophie put a hand on Tessa’s elbow. “Come, let’s get you inside, miss. You’re bleeding.”
“I am?” Puzzled, Tessa put her fingers up to touch her forehead; they came away stained red. “I must have struck my head when I fell against the steps. I didn’t even feel it.”
“Shock,” Sophie said calmly, and Tessa thought how many times in her employment here Sophie must have done these things—bandaged up cuts, wiped away blood. “Come along, and I’ll get a compress for your head.”
Tessa nodded. With a last glance over her shoulder at the destruction in the courtyard, she let Sophie guide her back inside the Institute. The next short while was something of a blur. After Sophie helped her upstairs and into an armchair in the drawing room, she bustled off and returned moments later with Agatha, who pressed a cup of something hot into Tessa’s hand.
Tessa knew what it was the moment she smelled it—brandy and water. She thought of Nate and hesitated, but once she’d had a few mouthfuls, things began to swim back into focus. Charlotte and Henry returned, bringing with them the smell of metal and fighting. Tight-lipped, Charlotte set her weapons down on a table and called for Will. He didn’t respond, but Thomas did, hurrying down the corridor, his coat stained with blood, to tell her that Will was with Jem, and that Jem was going to be all right.