Clockwork Heart | ✓

duo.

London, 1903

The first thing Brooklyn realized when she woke up was that she was not in her bed. The second was that she was on a street. The third was that the air smelled of shit, not smog. Not much of an improvement. Brooklyn wasn't sure if it was better or worse.

She sat up, rubbing her head, and looked around. Definitely not Los Angeles. Definitely not 2015. There were no cars or stop signs or much of anything other than houses and carriages that she could see from the alley she was in.

The air was humid and the sky was dark, and she stood up slowly and started out. She got some strange looks from the few people passing by on foot, and she tugged up her hood. Then she realized that people were wearing gowns and waistcoats and felt her face warm. Her jeans and high-heeled boots definitely did not fit in with these people. She'd need to change.

She walked a little farther, and the people disappeared. Something literally fell out of the sky and landed near her, and she was knocked aside by something else falling. A boy no older than her dropped out of sky and landed gracefully on his feet. A long, glowing sword was clutched in his hand. A sword. An actual sword!

He was dressed in a plain black vest over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The sleeves exposed his pale forearms, marked with strange black symbols. His black slacks were heavy with something, and around his hips was a leather belt holding an array of blades. His black hair was a mess, and something black soaked one sleeve of his shirt.

He slashed at the thing with his sword, but it dodged the blade. It was as tall as the boy, with scaly white skin and big, buldging black eyes. It swung at the boy with tentacle arms, a thread of blood sliding from its circular mouth. Brooklyn's mouth fell open, the scream freezing in her throat. She stood, rooted to the spot, watching as the boy fearlessly flung himself at the thing, slamming his sword down its throat. He let out a hiss as a tentacle wrapped around his arm, and he sliced it off with the sword. He climbed off of the creature and Brooklyn watched, horrified, until it suddenly fell to dust.

The boy turned around, wiping the blade off on his sleeve, and froze when his golden eyes landed on Brooklyn. "You can see me, can't you?" He had an accent, but her brain was too busy processing the now-pile-of-dust to put together what exactly it was.

She nodded slowly, closing her mouth.

"And you saw what just happened?"

Another nod.

His eyes took her in slowly, and his expression changed from shocked to confused. "What are you wearing?"

Brooklyn unfroze. She looked down, pulling away her jacket a little to inspect her outfit. "Um...jeans, a jacket, a tank top, and heeled boots?" She looked around. "Where are we?"

"London."

"When are we?"

"1903?" He said it like a question. "Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles," She turned back to him. "And it's 2015."

The boy stares at her for a long while before bursting into laughter. "Yeah, right. Really, where did you get those clothes? And who are you?"

"I'm Brooklyn Mathis," She said, straightening her spine. "And I'm being serious. Who are you?"

"James Herondale," he said proudly. "Now, let's get you back to the Institute. My mother will have a fit when she hears this..."

Brooklyn was very quickly given new clothes and some food, and she set her modern clothes aside in a drawer in her room. James had quickly introduced her to his friends and family--his parents, Tessa and Will, his sister Lucie, and Matthew Fairchild and Cordelia Carstairs. "What are they, again?" She asked Lucie as she tucked her shoes away.

"Parabatai," Lucie said. "Matthew is Jamie's and Cordelia is mine. It's like a best friend, but we take an oath to eternally defend them."

"This is a lot to take in," Brooklyn sighed, collapsing onto her bed next to Lucie.

The brunette smiled at her. "You can have my Codex to read, if you want. It's not much, but it might help you understand."

"That would be nice," Brooklyn said. "Thank you."

"One moment." Lucie hurried out of the room, and Matthew and Cordelia entered once she left.

"Who are you?" Cordelia demanded. "What do you want?"

"I'm Brooklyn," Brooklyn rolled her eyes. "And I want to go home. My parents are probably worried." They probably weren't, but Brooklyn refused to tell this to them.

"Is this how we treat our guests, you two?" Lucie had returned. She shooed them out and shook her head, smiling apologetically at her. "I'm sorry about them, Brooklyn. They weren't raised to be as accepting of mundanes and Downworlders as Jamie and I were."

She handed a hardback to Brooklyn, who ran her hands over the cover and the edges of the pages. "I couldn't find mine, so this is Jamie's. He's probably written all over it. I don't know what he's written in it, so I apologize in advance."

"It's fine," Brooklyn assured her. "I love books that people have written all over and folded pages down on and drawn all over. It gives it character."

"Lucie!"

She let out a sigh. "And he's looking for it."

James spun into the room, holding onto the wall by the door. "Lucie, where is my Codex?"

Brooklyn held it up. "She let me borrow it so I can understand this situation a little more."

James set his jaw, glaring daggers at his younger sister. "Lucie, can you give us a moment?" Lucie nodded and stood, giving Brooklyn an apologetic smile as she left.

James shut the door after her and stood, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I really hate to be rude, but there's nothing we can do for you. Maybe a warlock, but not us. We're Shadowhunters. We kill demons. We don't send random mundane anachronisms back to their times."

She stood up. Brooklyn's hands clenched into fists. I'm sick of people kicking me out. "Your parents said they could find a way to help me. You can't kick me out without them agreeing to it."

"I'll find a way to convince them." His golden eyes were dark. Brooklyn had never seen anyone so angry, not even when Kennedy Turner tried to punch her in fourth grade after she had had enough of the constant pestering from Kennedy and Thomas O'Riley.

"This isn't about me," she realized, because things rarely were about Brooklyn Mathis. "This is about something else, isn't it?"

He glared at her. "It's none of your business, mundane." He tore his Codex from her hands and spun on his heel. He slammed the door shut behind him.