The Infernal Devices Reimagined

Rekindled

Dinner was a quick affair. Tessa hadn't realized how long it had been since she'd eaten and dined savagely. Mr. Herondale wasn't present, but that was to be expected. She tried to eat quickly as to avoid any unwanted conversation, but started to choke and had to slow down. Now with a full stomach, Tessa crawled into her bed to sleep, and after a little wait, it came. She slept fairly peacefully until Sophia shook her awake. Tessa was fairly befuddled when she arose, but when Sophia said "Your brother has awakened," all the sleepiness left her eyes. Without another word, Tessa threw the door open and raced down to Nate's room.

Mrs. Branwell stood facing Nate's bed. Her brother had been looking around confused, but upon spotting Tessa, his face broke into a relieved smile. Seeing his familiar face was too much for Tessa. She threw herself into his arms and wailed like she'd wanted to for so long, a wail that turned into a sob. Nate held her tightly as she sobbed in his arms, then wiped the tears from her eyes when she pulled away. " It's all over now," he murmured, "We're safe now." Tessa hadn't dared believe it when they brought Nate back from de Quincey's manor, but it was true, wasn't it? They truly were safe. She was so happy she wanted to cry once more, but Tessa composed herself. Sobbing like that had only made her seem meek in front on Mrs. Branwell.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Tessa stepped away from Nate's bedside so Mrs. Branwell could question him as she had surely hoped to. It was unlikely that he knew much of anything of use. Though Tessa loved her brother, even she had to admit that he was prone to... folly, and not someone to be trusted with important information. Thankfully, Mrs. Branwell only had one question for Nate. "You have been through much, Mr. Gray, so I will not keep you for long. Is Alexi de Quincey the Magister?"

"Yes," Nate replied, lip trembling, "de Quincey is the Magister." 

"Excellent. We discovered the ashes of many vampires, but not as many as we had expected to. Why is that?"

"They must have escaped. De Quincey had several passageways built into his home. I'm sorry, I can't tell you where they are or where they lead to."

"Of course," Mrs. Branwell hissed under her breath. She turned back to Nate. "Thank you for that, Mr. Gray. When we have de Quincey and his underlings under our custody, you and your sister will be free to leave." Nodding, Mrs. Branwell left the room.

"Did you hear that?" Nate demanded, gleeful as a boy on Christmas Day. "We'll be free to leave! My house doesn't look like much compared to the Institute, but it is a home. I make enough for both of us at Mortmain's, so you won't have to work at that awful mill. You could stay at home and read books. You could write books too, you'll have so much time on your hands. You could write about yourself. You were just like a hero from a story at de Quincey's manor, Tess. You saved me!"

Tessa laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Nate. All I did was distract the vampires for a bit. If the Nephilim hadn't appeared when they did, we would both be in trouble." That had been dancing inside of Tessa's mind ever since that night. Why had the Nephilim appear when they did? She had meant to send Mr. Herondale to bring in reinforcements, but he had refused to go. How had they known to come?

Pushing those thoughts out of her head, Tessa asked Sophia to bring Nate some dinner. Despite Nate's protests, Tessa insisted on feeding him. When he had eaten every last bite, Tessa made him take a bath. Bathed and groomed, Nate once again looked like the boy who made girls' hearts flutter when he went by.

Satisfied with his recovery, Tessa left Nate to his own devices and set off wandering through the Institute. The mystery of how the Nephilim had come to their rescue still plagued her and refused to leave. She was still mulling over the facts of how they did it when a violin drew her to Mr. Carstairs' room.

Standing outside his door, Tessa couldn't think of what she'd say to him. She knew that there was something that she wished to say to him, but how? "You aren't a liability, despite that being all people around you seem to say?" Or, even better, "I'm dreadfully sorry that you're dying." Tessa was spared from thinking of what to say when Mr. Carstairs swung the door open. "May I help you?" he asked, courteous as ever.

"I was hoping you could help me search the library to find a book to read." 

"Will's the one you should go to for literary help."

"But, I've come to you."

"That you have," Mr. Carstairs held his arm out to her, "Come, then. I'll show you some of my favorites." 

Mr. Carstairs indicated to her that there were a few books she'd appreciate in the upper shelves. Tessa excitedly grabbed the ladder and clambered up, she swiped the book out of the shelf and waved it at him. On the way down, she slipped and thought that'd be the end of it, but Mr. Carstairs broke her fall. Her breath caught in her throat when their eyes met. Mr. Carstairs smiled, but his eyes didn't. His grey eyes had a lingering sadness in them. 

Tessa stepped away from Mr. Carstairs to hid the redness in her face, only to knock the ladder into the bookshelves and send dozens of books tumbling down. Mortified, Tessa tried to gather all the book quickly, yet kept dropping them. Eventually, Mr. Carstairs had to come help her round them up. The two of them returned all the books to their rightful place, every single one. Laughing, Mr. Carstairs ascended the stairs to find Tessa's book gave it to her. It was a beautiful copy of A Tale of Two Cities. "Have you read it before?" Tessa asked him. 

"Yes, I think you'll enjoy it. Will thinks the story, especially Sydney Carton, is silly. He thinks that the idea of loving someone so much that you'd die for them is an asinine sentiment. I think he hates it because Carton reminds him of himself."  

"Mr. Herondale is Sydney Carton?" Tessa said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure that I see it."

"Read it again, Ms. Gray. I'm sure you will. I'll take my leave, now." He left.