Clockwork Prince (The Infernal Devices 2)

"Tessa, youre a fool," Nate hissed. "This cannot work. The creature is obedient only to-"

"I am Nathaniel Gray!" Tessa shouted up at the metal giant. "And I order you in the name of the Magister to seize this man and hold him!"

Nate whirled on her. "Enough of your games, you stupid little-"

His words were cut off suddenly as the automaton bent and seized him in its pincered grasp. It lifted him up, up, level with its slash of a mouth clicking and whirring inquisitively. Nate began to scream, and kept screaming, witlessly, his arms flailing as Will, finished with whatever he was doing, dropped to the ground in a crouch. He shouted something at Tessa, his blue eyes wide and wild, but she couldnt hear him over her brothers screams.

Her heart was slamming against her chest; she felt her hair tumble down, hitting her shoulders with a soft, heavy weight. She was herself again, the shock of what was happening too great for her to hold on to the Change.

Nate was still screaming-the thing had him in a terrible pincer grip. Will had begun to run, just as the creature, staring at Tessa, reared up with a roar- and Will struck her, knocking her to the ground and covering her with his body as the automaton blew apart like an exploding star.

The cacaphony of bursting, clattering metal was incredible. Tessa tried to cover her ears, but Will s body was pinning her firmly to the ground. His elbows dug into the floor on either side of her head. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, the pounding of his heart against her spine. She heard her brother cry out, a terrible gurgling cry. She turned her head, pressing her face into Will s shoulder as his body jerked against hers; the floor shuddered beneath them- And it was over. Slowly Tessa opened her eyes. The air was cloudy with plaster dust and floating splinters and tea from torn burlap sacks. Huge chunks of metal lay scattered haphazardly about the floor, and several of the windows had burst open, letting in foggy evening light. Tessas glance darted about the room. She saw Henry, cradling Charlotte, kissing her pale face as she gazed up at him; Jem, struggling to his feet, stele in hand and plaster dust coating his clothes and hair-and Nate.

At first she thought he was leaning against one of the pil ars. Then she saw the spreading red stain across his shirt, and realized. A jagged chunk of metal had gone through him like a spear, pinning him upright to the pil ar. His head was down, his hands clawing weakly at his chest.

"Nate!" she screamed. Will rol ed sideways, freeing her, and she was on her feet in seconds, racing across the room to her brother. Her hands were shaking with horror and revulsion, but she managed to close them around the metal spear in his chest and pul it free. She threw it aside and barely succeeded in catching him as he slumped forward, his sudden dead weight bearing her to the ground. Somehow she found herself on the ground, Nates limp body stretched awkwardly across her lap.

A memory rose in her mind-her crouching on the floor at de Quinceys town house, holding Nate in her arms. She had loved him then. Trusted him.

Now, as she held him and his blood soaked into her shirt and trousers, she felt as if she were watching actors on a stage, playing parts, acting out grief.

"Nate," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open. A pang of shock went through her. She had thought he was already dead.

"Tessie . . . " His voice sounded thick, as if it were coming through layers of water. His eyes roamed her face, then the blood on her clothes, and then, final y, came to rest on his own chest, where blood pumped steadily through a massive rent in his shirt. Tessa shrugged off her jacket, wadded it up, and pressed it hard against the wound, praying it would be enough to make the blood stop.

It wasnt. The jacket was soaked through instantly, thin wet streams of blood running down Nates sides. "Oh, God," Tessa whispered. She raised her voice. "Wil -"

"Dont. " Nates hand seized her wrist, his nails digging in.

"But, Nate-"

"Im dying. I know. " He coughed, a loose, wet, rattling sound. "Dont you understand? Ive failed the Magister. Hel kil me anyway. And hel make it slow. " He made a hoarse, impatient noise. "Leave it, Tessie. Im not being noble. You know Im not that. "

She took a ragged breath. "I should leave you here to die alone in your own blood. Thats what youd do if it were me. "

"Tessie-" A stream of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. "The Magister was never going to hurt you. "

"Mortmain," she whispered. "Nate, where is he? Please. tell me where he is. "

"He-" Nate choked, heaving in a breath. A bubble of blood appeared on his lips. The jacket in Tessas hand was a sodden rag. His eyes went wide, starkly terrified. "Tessie . . . I-Im dying. Im really dying-"

Questions still exploded through her head. Where is Mortmain? How could my mother be a Shadowhunter? If my father was a demon, how is it that I am still alive when all the offspring of Shadowhunters and demons are stillborn? But the terror in Nates eyes silenced her; despite everything, she found her hand slipping into his. "Theres nothing to be afraid of, Nate. "

"Not for you, maybe. You were always-the good one. Im going to burn, Tessie. Tessie, wheres your angel?"

She put her hand to her throat, a reflexive gesture. "I couldnt wear it. I was pretending to be Jessamine. "

"You-must-wear it. " He coughed. More blood. "Wear it always. You swear?"

She shook her head. "Nate . . . " I cant trust you, Nate.

"I know. " His voice was a bare rattle. "Theres no forgiveness for-the kinds of things Ive had to do. "

She tightened her grip on his hand, her fingers slippery with his blood. "I forgive you," she whispered, not knowing, or caring, if it was true.

His blue eyes widened. His face had gone the color of old yel ow parchment, his lips almost white. "You dont know everything Ive done, Tessie. "

She leaned over him anxiously. "Nate?"

But there was no reply. His face went slack, his eyes wide, half-rol ed-back in his head. His hand slid out of hers and struck the floor.

"Nate," she said again, and put her fingers to the place where his pulse should have beat in his throat, already knowing what she would find.

There was nothing. He was dead.

Tessa stood up. Her torn waistcoat, her trousers, her shirt, even the ends of her hair, were soaked with Nates blood. She felt as numb as if she had been dipped in ice-cold water. She turned, slowly, only now, and for the first time, wondering if the others had been watching her, overhearing her conversation with Nate, wondering- They werent even looking in her direction. They were kneeling-Charlotte, Jem, and Henry-in a loose circle around a dark shape on the floor, just where she had been lying before, with Will on top of her.

Will.

Tessa had had dreams before in which shed been walking down a long, darkened corridor toward something dreadful-something she could not see but knew was terrifying and deadly. In the dreams, with each step, the corridor had gotten longer, stretching farther into darkness and horror. That same feeling of dread and helplessness overwhelmed her now as she moved forward, each step feeling like a mile, until she had joined the circle of kneeling Shadowhunters and was looking down at Will.

He lay on his side. His face was white, his breathing shall ow. Jem had one hand on his shoulder and was speaking to him in a low, soothing voice, but Will gave no sign of being able to hear him. Blood had pooled under him, smearing the floor, and for a moment Tessa just stared, unable to fathom where it had come from. Then she moved closer and saw his back. His gear had been shredded all along his spine and shoulder blades, the thick material torn by flying shards of razored metal. His skin swam with blood; his hair was soaked with it.

"Will," Tessa whispered. She felt peculiarly dizzy, as if she were floating.