Clockwork Heart | ✓

sedecim.

Los Angeles, 2015

Brooklyn Mathis woke up with her windows open, midday sunlight spilling through her white curtains and salty sea air blowing in with the wind. She was sideways across her bed, hair flung over her head and the hood of her jacket up. She sat up and looked around the room, confused. The book she bought--before London, she remembered--was on the floor, open to a page halfway through the book, and her phone when she checked it was nearly dead.

She picked up the book, Vathek. Inside was a piece of yellowing paper, so old that she wondered if it would turn to dust in her hands. It was a note.

James,

I hope you love this book as much as your mother and I did. She will probably kill me for giving you this later, but it really is a great novel, and I know you love reading just as much as I did at your age. I hope you never grow out of it

Merry Christmas and I wish we could be there with you,

Will Herondale (also known as your honorable and loving father)

She laughed at the note, knowing that it was just like Will to write that. She ran her hand over the cover, tears pricking her eyes. This was the book James had held in his hands, had so lovingly read so many times. She wondered how it ended up on this side of the Atlantic, how the note was in it still after so many years. She couldn't find it in her to care. Fate had landed this book in her hands, and it would never leave them. She would read that book cover to cover, again and again, until it was burned into her mind the same way A Tale of Two Cities was burned into Tessa and Will's.

"Brooklyn!" Her mother's voice rang down the hall, footsteps echoed up the stairs. "We're home!"

Her mother opened the door. "You're awake! How did you sleep last night, sweetheart?"

"Great." She said. "Mom, where were you last night?"

Her mother smiled. "Ah, the news. Well, we went to San Francisco. Why don't you change and come downstairs? We have something important to tell you." She left the room.

Brooklyn pulled out a dress, still not used to the feeling of pants, and a pair of wedges from her closet. She took a long shower and then carefully did her makeup, and when she was dressed, she emptied the pockets of her jacket and jeans. Tucked in her jeans was a now-yellow and old folded list of books that James insisted she read. In her jacket, she was surprised to find a chain.

It was a gold chain holding a heavy pendant. It was a heart, made out of tiny cogs and gears, with golden wings forming the heart shape. Silver wings spanned out from either side, each tiny feather carefully detailed. She lifted it to her ear, surprised to hear a tiny tick tick tick coming from the pendant. Engraved on the back was J. H. + B. M. Tears pricked at her eyes again. James...

She wore the necklace.

She hurried downstairs, clutching Vathek in her hands tightly. Her mother and stepfather were on the couch, talking quietly, and they stopped when she came down. Her mother gestured towards the loveseat. "You may want to sit down, sweetheart."

Brooklyn smoothed out the skirt of her blue dress as she sat. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," said Jonathan. "Everything's great. Brooklyn, how do you feel about New York?"

She shrugged. "It's a new place with new people and new opportunities. Why?"

Her parents exchanged a worried look. "Jonathan has a great business opportunity, Brooklyn." Her mother said. "It'll give him a raise and a promotion, and a lot of credit in his company."

"But it's in New York, and we have to move." Brooklyn finished.

"It'll only be until a week or so before you return to school," Jonathan rushed to assure her. "You'll be taking your senior year in Los Angeles."

"I'm okay with it." Brooklyn smiled. "When do we leave?"

"Next week." Jonathan said. "Pack whatever you want to bring. I'll give you money for more clothes and new sheets and things to decorate your room in our apartment when we get there. Just bring clothes and some necessary things."

Brooklyn nodded. "I'll go pack."

Upstairs, she checked her phone. She was surprised to see a text from her best friend--or at least, the girl that was her best friend. It was two short, simple words, but they filled Brooklyn with a little resentment, if for no reason other than she had realized that this girl was little more than a modern Grace Blackthorn. I'm sorry.

Yeah, right.