Clockwork Princess (The Infernal Devices, #3)(125)

Cecily looked up. On the gallery halfway up the dome stood a man in a well-cut dark suit, a man she recognized instantly.

It was Mortmain.



“Stop.”

The voice echoed through the room, sending chills through Tessa’s veins. Mortmain. She knew his speech, his voice, even though she could see nothing past the stone pillar that hid the alcove Armaros had dragged her into. The demon automaton had kept a tight hold on her, even as a dull explosion had rocked the room, followed by a biting, vicious wind that had blown past their alcove, leaving them untouched.

Silence had fallen now, and Tessa wanted desperately to tear away from the metal arms that held her, to run into the room and see if any of her friends, those she loved, had been harmed, even killed. But struggling against him was like struggling against a wall. She kicked out anyway, just as Mortmain’s voice rang through the room again:

“Where is Miss Gray? Bring her to me.”

Armaros made a rumbling noise, and lurched into motion. Lifting Tessa by the arms, he carried her from the alcove into the main room.

It was a scene of chaos. The automatons stood frozen, looking up at their master. Many were crumpled on the ground, or hacked into pieces. The floor was slippery with a mixture of blood and oil.

In the center of the room, in a circle, stood the Shadowhunters and their companions. Cyril was kneeling upon the ground, a torn piece of bloody bandage wrapped around his leg. Near him was Henry, half-sitting and half-lying down in Charlotte’s arms. He was pale, so pale…. Tessa’s eyes met Will’s as he raised his head and saw her. A look of dismay passed over his face, and he started forward. Jem seized his sleeve. His eyes were on Tessa too; they were wide and dark and full of horror.

She looked away from both of them, away and up at Mortmain. He stood at the railing of the gallery above them, like a preacher at a pulpit, and smirked down. “Miss Gray,” he said. “So good of you to join us.”

She spat, tasting blood in her mouth where the automaton’s fingers had raked her cheek.

Mortmain raised an eyebrow. “Set her down,” he said to Armaros. “Keep your hands on her shoulders.”

The demon obeyed with a low chuckle. As soon as Tessa’s boots touched the ground, she straightened her spine, raising her chin and glaring viciously at Mortmain. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding day,” she said.

“Indeed,” Mortmain said. “But bad luck for whom?”

Tessa did not look around. The sight of so many automatons, and the ragtag band of Shadowhunters who were all that stood before them, was too painful. “The Nephilim have already entered your fortress,” she said. “There will be others behind them. They will swarm your automatons and destroy them. Surrender now, and perhaps you will keep your life.”

Mortmain threw his head back and laughed. “Brava, madam,” he said. “You stand there surrounded by defeat, and demand my surrender.”

“We are not defeated—,” Will began, and Mortmain hissed out a breath through his teeth, audible in the echoing room. As one, all the automatons in the room snapped their heads toward Will—a terrifying synchronicity.

“Not a word from you, Nephilim,” Mortmain said. “The next time one of you speaks will be the last time you ever draw breath.”

“Let them go,” Tessa said. “This is nothing to do with them. Let them go, and keep me.”

“You bargain with nothing in your hands,” Mortmain said. “You are wrong if you think other Shadowhunters are coming to help you. At this very moment a significant part of my army is cutting your Council to pieces.” Tessa heard Charlotte gasp, a short, stifled noise. “Clever of the Nephilim to handily assemble themselves all in one place, that I might wipe them out in one fell swoop.”

“Please,” Tessa said. “Turn your hand from them. Your grievances against the Nephilim are just. But if they are all dead, who will be lessoned by your vengeance? Who will atone? If there is no one to learn from the past, there is no one to carry on its lessons. Let them live. Let them carry your teachings into the future. They can be your legacy.”

He nodded thoughtfully, as though he were weighing her words. “I will spare them—I will keep them here, as our prisoners. Their captivity will keep you pleasant, and it will keep you obedient”—his voice hardened—“because you love them, and if you ever even try to escape, I will kill them all.” He paused. “What do you say, Miss Gray? I have been generous, and now I am owed thanks.”

The only sound in the room was the creak of the automatons and Tessa’s own blood pounding in her ears. She realized now what Mrs. Black had meant by her words in the carriage. And the more knowledge of them you have, the more your sympathies lie with them, the more effective a weapon you will be to raze them to the ground. Tessa had become one of the Shadowhunters, if not entirely like them. She cared for them and loved them, and Mortmain would use that caring and that love to force her hand. In saving the few she loved, she would doom them all. And yet to condemn Will and Jem, Charlotte and Henry, Cecily and the others to death was unthinkable.

“Yes.” She heard Jem—or was it Will—make a muffled sound. “Yes, I will take that bargain.” She looked up. “Tell the demon to let me go, and I will come up to you.”

She saw Mortmain’s eyes narrow. “No,” he said. “Armaros, bring her to me.”