Clockwork Angel tid-1

by Cassandra Clare

  As Tessa stared in confusion, one of the subjugates was stopped by the woman in the white powdered wig. She snapped her fingers imperiously, and the darkling—a pale boy in a gray jacket and trousers—turned his head to the side obediently. After plucking a thin awl from the tray with her skinny fingers, the vampire drew the sharp tip across the skin of the boy's throat, just below his jaw. The glasses rattled on the tray as his hand shook, but he didn't drop the tray, not even when the woman lifted a glass and pressed it against his throat so that the blood ran down into it in a thin stream.

  Tessa's stomach tightened with a sudden mixture of revulsion—and hunger; she could not deny the hunger, even though it belonged to Camille and not her. Stronger than the thirst, though, was her horror. She watched as the vampire woman lifted the glass to her lips, the human boy beside her standing gray-faced and trembling as she drank.

  She wanted to reach for Will's hand, but a vampire baroness would never hold the hand of her human subjugate. She straightened her spine, and beckoned Will to her side with a quick snap of her fingers. He looked up in surprise, then moved to join her, clearly fighting to hide his annoyance. But hide it he must. "Now, don't go wandering off, William," she said with a meaningful glance. "I don't want to lose you in the crowd."

  Will's jaw set. "I'm getting the oddest feeling that you're enjoying this," he said under his breath.

  "Nothing odd about it." Feeling unbelievably bold, Tessa chucked him under the chin with the tip of her lace fan. "Simply behave yourself."

  "They are so hard to train, aren't they?" The man with the colorless hair emerged out of the crowd, inclining his head toward Tessa. "Human subjugates, that is," he added, mistaking her startled expression for confusion. "And then once you have them properly trained, they die of something or other. Delicate creatures, humans. All the longevity of butterflies."

  He smiled. The smile showed teeth. His skin had the bluish paleness of hardened ice. His hair was nearly white and hung arrow-straight to his shoulders, just brushing the collar of his elegant dark coat. His waistcoat was gray silk, figured with a pattern of twisting silver symbols. He looked like a Russian prince out of a book. "It's good to see you, Lady Belcourt," he said, and there was an accent to his voice too, not French—more Slavic. "Did I catch a glimpse of a new carriage through the window?"

  This is de Quincey, Camille's voice breathed in Tessa's mind. Images rose up suddenly in her brain, like a fountain turned on, pouring fourth visions instead of water. She saw herself dancing with de Quincey, her hands on his shoulders; she stood by a black stream under the white sky of a northern night, watching as he fed on something pale and sprawled in the grass; she sat motionless at a long table of other vampires, de Quincey at the head of it, as he shouted and screamed at her and brought his fist down so hard that the marble top of the table shivered into cracks. He was shouting at her, something about a werewolf and a relationship she would live to regret. Then she was sitting alone in a room, in the dark, and weeping, and de Quincey came in and knelt by her chair and took her hand, wanting to comfort her, though he had been the one to cause her pain. Vampires can weep? Tessa thought first, and then, They have known each other a long time, Alexei de Quincey and Camille Belcourt. They were friends once, and he thinks they are friends still.

  "Indeed, Alexei," she said, and as she said it, she knew this was the name she had been trying to recall at the dinner table the other night—the foreign name the Dark Sisters had spoken. Alexei. "I wanted something a bit ... roomier." She held her hand out, and stood still while he kissed it, his lips cold on her skin.

  De Quincey's eyes slid past Tessa to Will, and he licked his lips. "And a new subjugate as well, I see. This one is quite fetching." He reached out a thin pale hand, and drew his forefinger down the side of Will's cheek to his jaw. "Such unusual coloring," he mused. "And these eyes."

  "Thank you," said Tessa, in the manner of one being complimented on an especially tasteful choice of wallpaper. She watched nervously as de Quincey moved even closer to Will, who looked pale and strained. She wondered if he was having trouble holding himself back when surely every one of his nerves was screaming Enemy! Enemy!

  De Quincey trailed his finger from Will's jaw to his throat, to the point at his collarbone where his pulse beat. "There," he said, and this time when he smiled, his white fangs were visible. They were sharp and fine at the points, like needles. His eyelids drooped, languorous and heavy, and his voice when he spoke was thick. "You wouldn't mind, Camille, would you, if I just had a little bite... ."

  Tessa's vision went white. She saw de Quincey again, the front of his white shirt scarlet with blood—and she saw a body hanging upside down from a tree at the dark stream's edge, pale fingers dangling in the black water... .

  Her hand whipped out, faster than she'd ever imagined she could have moved, and caught de Quincey's wrist. "My darling, no," she said, a wheedling tone in her voice. "I'd so like to keep him to myself for just a little while. You know how your appetite runs away with you sometimes." She lowered her eyelids.

  De Quincey chuckled. "For you, Camille, I will exercise my restraint." He drew his wrist away, and for a moment, under the flirtatious poise, Tessa thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, quickly masked. "In honor of our long acquaintance."

  "Thank you, Alexei."

  "Have you given any further thought, my dear," he said, "to my offer of a membership in the Pandemonium Club? I know the mundanes bore you, but they are a source of funds, nothing more. Those of us on the board are on the verge of some very ... exciting discoveries. Power beyond your wildest dreams, Camille."

  Tessa waited, but Camille's inner voice was silent. Why? She fought down panic and managed to smile at de Quincey. "My dreams," she said, and hoped he would think the hoarseness in her voice was from amusement and not fear, "may be more wild already than you imagine."

  Beside her, she could tell that Will had shot her a surprised look; he quickly schooled his features to blandness, though, and glanced away. De Quincey, his eyes gleaming, only smiled.

  "I ask only that you consider my offer, Camille. And now I must attend to my other guests. I trust I will see you at the ceremony?"

  Dazed, she simply nodded. "Of course."

  De Quincey bowed, turned, and vanished into the crowd. Tessa let her breath out. She hadn't realized she'd been holding it.

  "Don't," said Will softly at her side. "Vampires don't need to breathe, remember."

  "My God, Will." Tessa realized she was shaking. "He would have bitten you."

  Will's eyes were dark with rage. "I would have killed him first."

  A voice spoke at Tessa's elbow. "And then you would both be dead."

  She whirled and saw that a tall man had appeared just behind her, as soundlessly as if he had drifted there like smoke. He wore an elaborate brocade jacket, like something out of the previous century, with a riot of white lace at his collar and cuffs. Below the long jacket Tessa glimpsed knee breeches, and high buckled shoes. His hair was like rough black silk, so dark it had a bluish sheen to it; his skin was brown, the cast of his features like Jem's. She wondered if perhaps, like Jem, he was of foreign extraction. In one ear he sported a silver loop from which dangled a diamond pendant the size of a finger, which sparkled brilliantly under the lights, and there were diamonds set into the head of his silver walking stick. He seemed to gleam all over, like witchlight. Tessa stared; she had never seen anyone dressed in such a mad fashion.

  "This is Magnus," said Will quietly, sounding relieved. "Magnus Bane."

  "My darling Camille," Magnus said, bending to kiss her gloved hand. "We have been parted too long."

  The moment he touched her, Camille's memories came rushing up in a flood—memories of Magnus holding her, kissing her, touching her in a distinctly intimate and personal manner. Tessa jerked her hand back with a squeak. And now you reappear, she thought resentfully in Camille's direction.

  "I see," he murmured, straightening. His eyes, when he
raised them to Tessa's, nearly made her lose her composure: They were gold-green with slit pupils, the eyes of a cat set in a distinctly human face. They were full of shimmering amusement. Unlike Will, whose eyes held a trace of sadness even when he was amused, Magnus's eyes were full of a surprising joy. They darted sideways, and he jerked his chin toward the far side of the room, indicating that Tessa should follow him. "Come along, then. There's a private room where we can talk."

  In a daze Tessa followed him, Will at her side. Was she imagining it, or did the white faces of the vampires turn to follow her as she passed? A redheaded female vampire in an elaborate blue dress glared at her as she went; Camille's voice whispered that the woman was jealous of de Quincey's regard for her. Tessa was grateful when Magnus finally reached a door—so cleverly set into the paneled wall that she didn't realize it was a door until the warlock had produced a key. He slid the door open with a soft click. Will and Tessa followed him inside.

  The room was a library, obviously rarely used; though volumes lined the walls, they were grimed with dust, as were the velvet curtains that hung across the windows. When the door shut behind them, the light in the room dimmed; before Tessa could say anything, Magnus snapped his fingers and twin fires leaped up in the fireplaces on either side of the room. The flames of the fire were blue, and the fire itself had a strong scent, like burning joss sticks.

  "Oh!" Tessa could not stop a small exclamation of surprise from passing her lips.

  With a grin Magnus flung himself onto the great marble-topped table in the center of the room, and lay down on his side, his head propped on his hand. "Have you never seen a warlock do magic before?"

  Will gave an exaggerated sigh. "Please refrain from teasing her, Magnus. I expect Camille told you she knows very little of the Shadow World."

  "Indeed," Magnus said unrepentantly, "but it's hard to believe, considering what she can do." His eyes were on Tessa. "I saw your face when I kissed your hand. You knew who I was immediately, didn't you? You know what Camille knows. There are some warlocks and demons who can shift—take on any shape. But I have never heard of one who could do what you do."

  "It cannot be said for certain that I'm a warlock," Tessa said. "Charlotte says I'm not marked like a warlock would be marked."

  "Oh, you're a warlock. Depend on it. Just because you don't have bat ears ..." Magnus saw Tessa frown, and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you don't want to be a warlock, do you? You despise the idea."

  "I just never thought ... ," Tessa said in a whisper. "That I was anything other than human."

  Magnus's tone was not unsympathetic. "Poor thing. Now that you know the truth, you can never go back."

  "Leave her alone, Magnus." Will's tone was sharp. "I must search the room. If you won't help, at least try not to torment Tessa while I do it." He moved toward the big oak desk in the corner of the room and began rummaging among the papers atop it.

  Magnus glanced toward Tessa and winked. "I think he's jealous," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  Tessa shook her head and moved toward the nearest bookshelf. There was a book propped open on the middle shelf as if to display it. The pages were covered with bright, intricate figures, some parts of the illustrations gleaming as if they had been painted onto the parchment with gold. Tessa exclaimed in surprise. "It's a Bible."

  "Does that astonish you?" Magnus inquired.

  "I thought vampires couldn't touch holy things."

  "It depends on the vampire—how long they've been alive, what kind of faith they have. De Quincey actually collects old Bibles. He says there's hardly another book out there with so much blood on the pages."

  Tessa glanced toward the closed door. The faint swell of voices on the other side was audible. "Won't we excite some sort of comment, hiding in here like this? The others—the vampires—I'm sure they were staring at us as we came in."

  "They were staring at Will." In some ways Magnus's smile was as unnerving as a vampire's, even though he didn't have fangs. "Will looks wrong."

  Tessa glanced over at Will, who was rummaging through the desk drawers with gloved hands. "I find that hard to credit coming from someone dressed as you are," Will said.

  Magnus ignored this. "Will doesn't behave like the other human subjugates. He doesn't stare at his mistress with blind adoration, for instance."

  "It's that monstrous hat of hers," said Will. "Puts me off."

  "Human subjugates are never 'put off,'" said Magnus. "They adore their vampire masters, whatever they wear. Of course, the guests were also staring because they know of my relationship with Camille, and are wondering what we might be doing here in the library ... alone." He wiggled his eyebrows at Tessa.

  Tessa thought back to her visions. "De Quincey ... He said something to Camille about regretting her relationship with a werewolf. He made it sound as if it were a crime she committed."

  Magnus, who was now lying on his back and twirling his walking stick over his head, shrugged. "To him it would be. Vampires and werewolves despise each other. They claim it has something to do with the fact that the two races of demons that spawned them were involved in a blood feud, but if you ask me, it's simply that they're both predators, and predators always resent incursions into their territory. Not that vampires are all that fond of the fey, or my kind either, but de Quincey rather likes me. He thinks we're friends. In fact, I suspect he'd like to be more than friends." Magnus grinned, to Tessa's confusion. "But I despise him, though he doesn't know it."

  "Then, why spend time with him at all?" asked Will, who had moved to a tall secretary between two of the windows and was examining its contents. "Why come to his house?"

  "Politics," said Magnus with another shrug. "He is the head of the clan; for Camille not to come to his parties when invited would be construed as an insult. And for me to allow her to go alone would be ... careless. De Quincey is dangerous, and no less to those of his own kind. Especially those who have displeased him in the past."

  "Then you should—," Will began, and broke off, his voice altering. "I've found something." He paused. "Perhaps you should have a look at this, Magnus." Will came over to the table and set down on it what looked like a long sheet of rolled paper. He gestured for Tessa to join him, and unrolled the paper across the table's surface. "There was little of interest in the desk," he said, "but I did find this, hidden in a false drawer in the cabinet. Magnus, what do you think?"

  Tessa, who had moved to stand beside Will at the table, gazed down at the paper. It was covered with a rough blueprint drawing of a human skeleton made up of pistons, cogs, and plates of hammered metal. The skull had a hinged jaw, open sockets for eyes, and a mouth that ended just behind the teeth. There was a panel in the chest too, just like Miranda's. All along the left side of the page were scrawled what looked like notes, in a language Tessa could not decipher. The letters were utterly unfamiliar.

  "Blueprint for an automaton," said Magnus, cocking his head to the side. "An artificial human being. Humans have always been fascinated by the creatures—I suppose because they are humanoid but cannot die or be hurt. Have you ever read The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices?"

  "I've never even heard of it," said Will. "Are there any bleak moors in it, shrouded in mysterious mists? Ghostly brides wandering the halls of ruined castles? A handsome fellow rushing to the rescue of a beauteous yet penniless maiden?"

  "No," said Magnus. "There's a rather racy bit about cogs halfway through, but really most of it is rather dry."

  "Then Tessa won't have read it, either," said Will.

  Tessa glared at him, but said nothing; she hadn't read it, and she wasn't in the mood to let Will get to her.

  "Well, then," said Magnus. "It was written by an Arab scholar, two centuries before Leonardo da Vinci, and described how machines could be built that would mimic the actions of human beings. Now, there is nothing alarming about that in and of itself. But it is this"—Magnus's long finger brushed gently across the writing on the left side of the
page—"that concerns me."

  Will leaned closer. His sleeve brushed Tessa's arm. "Yes, that was what I wanted to ask you about. Is it a spell?"

  Magnus nodded. "A binding spell. Meant to infuse demonic energy into an inanimate object, thus giving that object a sort of life. I've seen the spell used. Before the Accords vampires liked to amuse themselves by creating little demonic mechanisms like music boxes that would play only at night, mechanical horses that could ride only after sundown, that sort of silliness." He tapped thoughtfully on the head of his walking stick. "One of the great problems of creating convincing automatons, of course, has always been their appearance. No other material quite gives the semblance of human flesh."

  "But what if one were to use it—human flesh, I mean?" Tessa asked.

  Magnus paused delicately. "The problem there, for human designers, is, ah, obvious. Preserving the flesh destroys its appearance. One would have to use magic. And then magic again, to bind the demon energy to the mechanical body."

  "And what would that achieve?" Will asked, an edge to his voice.

  "Automatons have been built that can write poems, draw landscapes—but only those they are directed to create. They have no individual creativity or imagination. Animated by a demon energy, however, an automaton would have a measure of thought and will. But any bound spirit is enslaved. It would inevitably be entirely obedient to whoever had done the binding."

  "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."