The Infernal Devices Reimagined

The Dark Night

Dinner that evening was a brief affair. Mrs. Branwell said in passing that her meetings with Ragnor Fell, the high warlock of London, and Woosley Scott, the leader of London's werewolf pack, went smoothly. Ms. Lovelace grumbled something about Mr. Herondale the rascal once again missing dinner, and Mr. Branwell was so engrossed with his book that he began putting mashed potatoes in his drinking water. Tessa quietly noted that Mr. Carstairs too was not present, but no one commented on his absence.

After dinner, everyone retired to their chambers.

Tessa lay in bed, restlessly tossing and turning into the wee hours of the night. Finally, she crept out of bed a tried to read The Shadowhunter's Codex. Not even reading brought her peace. The words would all just swivel around in her mind, crashing into her frantic thoughts. Tessa massaged her temples as her head began to throb.

She signed and reclined in her chair. It was healthy to feel some frustration in her situation, wasn't it? A full day had passed since she had escaped from the Dark House, and Tessa had made barely any progress in finding Nate. 'Not that I've done anything,' Tessa thought surlily, 'Mrs. Branwell has done all the work for me.'

Wherever Nate was, Tessa was not helping him by sitting in a room feeling sorry for herself. She put on a pair of gloves and boots (All on loan from Ms. Lovelace.) and threw on a coat over her nightgown. Some fresh air would help clear her thoughts.

Most women - nay, people - did not leave their homes at night. Many were much too tired after their long days of work, but most knew better than brave the streets at after sundown. There were dubious figures around every corner, hiding in every shadow. Before coming to the last six weeks, Tessa would have done the same.

But there was something different in Tessa as she walked the roads that night. She would no longer cower from the unknown, for that was where she lived now. London was ripe with secrets, and Tessa would discover ever single one until she had what she wanted.

Ahead of her, Tessa could see the silhouette of a man. A thief? Or perhaps even a drunkard. Whatever he was, Tessa wanted nothing to do with him.

She wanted nothing to do with him until he came into focus under a gas lamp, and Tessa saw that he was neither a thief nor a drunkard, he was William Herondale and he was covered in blood.

Tessa quickly made her way to him. "Mr. Herondale? What happened to you?" She whispered.

"It is not my blood that I'm bathing in right now if that's your worry. Not all of it, at least." As if on cue, Mr. Herondale's legs gave out, and he had to lean himself on the lamppost for balance. "All I need is a quick iratze, and I will be on my way."

"An iratze?"

"Yes Ms. Gray, an iratze. It's the shadowhunter rune for healing. I don't suppose you could draw me one?"

"Well, Mr. Herondale, if I hadn't even the knowledge of what an iratze was before you told me, why would I now know how to draw one?"

"You are very cutting, Ms. Gray."

"I apologize."

Mr. Herondale grunted and drew a wand-like thing from his belt. "This is a stele," he explained as he put the stele to his skin, "We shadowhunters use steles to draw runes on our skins."

Where the stele touched Mr. Herondale's arm, his skin turned black. He quickly drew a curling letter onto his arm. When Mr. Herondale finished drawing it, the rune glowed gold, and then faded away. Mr. Herondale stood up, reinvigorated.