Clockwork Princess

too many of them.”
    “And Tessa and Will?”
    “Will found her,” Cecily said. “They are here, in the room.”
    Henry closed his eyes, breathed in hard, then opened them again. The blue tinge had already begun to fade. “Then we must make a Portal. But first we must get everyone’s attention—separate them from the automatons so that we are not all sucked through the Portal to the Institute together. The last thing we need is any of those Infernal Devices winding up in London.” He looked at Magnus. “Reach into the pocket of my coat.”
    As Magnus reached out, Cecily saw that his hand was trembling slightly. Clearly the effort of keeping the protective wall solid around them was beginning to take its toll on him.
    He withdrew his hand from Henry’s pocket. In it was a small golden box, with no visible hinges or opening.
    Henry’s words came with difficulty. “Cecily—take it, please. Take it, and throw it. As hard and far as you can.”
    Magnus handed over the box to Cecily with shaking fingers. It felt warm against her hand, though she could not tell if that was from some heat inside it or simply the result of its having been in Henry’s pocket.
    She glanced down at Magnus. His face was drawn. “I’m letting the wall down now,” he said. “Throw, Cecily.”
    He raised his hands. Sparks flew; the wall shimmered and vanished. Cecily drew her arm back and threw the box.
    For a moment nothing happened. Then there was a dull implosion—a vanishing inward of sound, as if everything in the room were being sucked down an enormous drain. Cecily’s ears popped, and she sank to the ground, clapping her hands to the sides of her head. Magnus was also on his knees, and their small group huddled together as what seemed like a massive wind blew through the room.
    The wind roared, and joining the sound of the wind was the sound of creaking, tearing metal as the clockwork creatures in the room began to stagger and stumble. Cecily saw Gabriel dart out of the way as an automaton fell at his feet and began spasming, its iron arms and legs flailing as if it were in the throes of a fit. Her eyes darted to Will and the Silent Brother he fought beside, whose hood had fallen back. Even among everything else that was happening, Cecily felt a shock go through her. Brother Zachariah was—
Jem
. She had known, they had all known, that Jem had gone to the Silent City to become a Silent Brother or die trying, but that he would be well enough to be here now, with them, fighting beside Will as he used to, that he would have the strength …
    There was a crash as a clockwork monster crumpled to the ground between Will and Jem, forcing them to spring apart. The air smelled like the air just before a storm.
    “Henry—”
Charlotte’s hair blew about her face.
    Henry’s face was tight with pain. “It’s—a sort of Pyxis. Meant to detach demon souls from their bodies. Before death. I haven’t had time—to perfect it. But it seemed worth trying.”
    Magnus staggered to his feet. His voice rose over the sound of crumpling metal and the high shrieks of demons. “Come here! All of you!
Gather, Shadowhunters!
”
    Bridget stood her ground, still fighting two automatons whose movements had become jerky and uneven, but the others began to run toward them: Will, Jem, Gabriel … but Tessa, where was Tessa? Cecily saw Will realize Tessa’s absence at the same time that she did; he turned, his hand on Jem’s arm, his blue eyes scanning the room. She saw his lips form the word “Tessa,” though she could hear nothing over the ever-louder shrieking of the wind, the shuddering of metal—
    “Stop.”
    A bolt of silvery light shot down, like a fork of lightning, from the top of the dome, and exploded through the room like the sparks of a Catherine wheel. The wind stilled and stopped, leaving the room filled with a ringing silence.
    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