Infernal Devices: Clockwork Angel

London, April 1878. The demon exploded in a shower of ichor and guts. William Herondale jerked back the dagger he was holding, but it was too late. The viscous acid of the demon's blood had already begun to eat away at the shining blade. He swore and tossed the weapon aside; it landed in a filthy puddle and commenced smoldering like a doused match. The demon itself, of course had vanished- dispatched back to whatever hellish world it had come from, though not without leaving a mess behind.

Will took it. The blade was indeed thin, ending in a handle made of polished bone. The blade and hilt both were stained with dried blood. With a frown he wiped the flat of the knife across the rough fabric of his sleeve, scraping it clean until a symbol, burned into the blade, became visible. Two serpents, each biting the other's tail, forming a perfect circle.

Tessa knew the angel was made out of clockwork because if she lifted it to her ear she could hear the sound of its machinery, like the sound of a watch. Nate had exclaimed in surprise that it was still working after so many years, and he had looked in vain for a knob or a screw, or some other method by which the angel might be wound. But there had been nothing to find. With a shrug he'd given the angel to Tessa. From that moment she had never taken it off; even at night the angel lay against her chest as she slept, its constant tick-tock, tick-tock like the beating of a second heart.

(Surpised but also joking around) You cut me. It might be fatal. (Pauses as some blood runs down his hand) Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.

(Bragging) I've mastered many things in my life. Navigating the streets of London, dancing the quadrille, the Japanese are of flower arranging, lying at charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young women with my charms.... (Sigh) Alas no one has ever actually referred to me as 'the master,' or 'the magister,' either. More's the pity...

(Cheerfully, but kind of picking too.) My name is Herondale, William Herondale, but everyone calls me Will. Is this really your room? Not very nice is it? Do you often sleep tied to the bed?

"(Explaining in a gentlish way) It's a Mark. You know what those are? (Slight pause) This one is Voidance. It clears our Sight. Helps us to see Downworld. (Pointing each one out) For swiftness, night vision, angelic power, to heal quickly. Though their names are more complex than that, and not in English."

"(Coughing and becoming weak) On- On the mantel- in the box- the silver one-"

(Questioning Will with some amusement.) Do you think you can be trusted in the Downworld? The gambling hells, the dens of magical vice, the women of loose morals..."

(Acting interested but really being rude.) Is it dreadful, being so evil? Are you worried you'll go to Hell? (Pausing slightly) What do you think the Devil's like?

(Snotty) That only makes it sillier. They have money and power. Why are they playing around with magic?

(Being plain rude) I don't believe she has one. I think she's simply a little sneak who knows that if we believe she's a Downworlder, we'll have to treat her well because of the Accords.

(Gently) Miss Gray, I am Charlotte Branwell, head of the London Institute, and this beside me is brother Enoch-

(Explain, still in a gentle tone) Yes, but there is no need to look betrayed, Miss Gray. You had struck your head quite hard, and Will was concerned about you. Brother Enoch, though his looks might frighten you, is a skilled practitioner of medicine. He had determined that your head injury is slight, and in the main you are suffering from shock and nervous anxiety. In fact, it might be for the best if you sat down now.

(Friendly) You're trying not to cry, I know that when I do that myself, it sometimes helps to look at a bright light directly. Try the witchlight.

(In thought as she studies Tess) You are a little pale. You could try pinching your cheeks a bit to bring the color. That's what miss Jessamine does.

(Amused at something Tessa doesn't know.) Miss Jessamine's never worn it. Mrs. Branwell gave it to her as a gift, but miss Jessamine said it made her look sallow and tossed it in the back of her wardrobe. (A little to her self) Ungrateful, if you ask me. (Cheerful once more. ) Now, go on then and pinch your cheeks a bit. You're pale as milk.

(In a moody tone) It's done. It was filthy. I hope that in the future you can refrain from tracking bits of dead demon through the house.

(In genuine pleasantness) Theresa Gray, what a delight to make your acquaintance at last. I am Mrs. Black, and this is my sister Mrs. Dark. Your brother sent us to accompany you to London.

(Comandingly) Leave us now, Miranda, (pause) and shut the door behind you.

(Side talking with her sister) She's advanced wonderfully since then, don't you think, Sister? Given what we had to work with in the beginning- she didn't even know what she was.

(A  LITTLE excited about it) Oh, absolutely, my dear sister. She's as ready as she'll ever be. It's time for our Theresa to meet her master.

(Cheerful Tone) No need, no need. We've already arranged to have it sent on ahead. Come along, child; let's get you out of the rain.

(Gently.) Come here, Theresa. And take this. (Growing impatient) Take this. And Change.

The Sisters would like to see you in their chambers.

(Shudder and broke) You must come- you m-must- you- you- you- yyyyyyyyyyyyyy-
 

The magister is a very great man, It will be an honor for you when you are married to him.