The Infernal Devices discussion

Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices, #1)
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Books > Clockwork Angel (With Spoilers)

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Wendes | 54 comments It was really amazing!! I loved the parallels and non parallels throughout the book. I found the Lightwood vs. Herondale feud especially amusing since Alec and Jace become parabatai.

I really love Tessa's character, she's sweet and strong and not afraid to speak her mind. I love Will and his seemingly dark and distant character. He uses sarcasm and the image of disinterest in everything to make everyone hate him and drive everyone out on purpose. But he's really hiding so much pain and torment and he obviously cares about Tessa.

I'm really curious about what he asked Magnus to help him do and I can't wait for the next book

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
the end killed meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
i wantto know so bad !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Personally i think that Henry and Charlotte are somehow related to Clary somewhere down the line and i had fun imaganing who was realated to who

it was also fun to see the fact that Henry was trying to come up with the sensor and that we know he succeds in the future made me happy

I loved WILL it made me long for Jace

also i notted that it was slightly darker were the MI books were lighter and......just.....not as dark. (cant think of a better way to describe it)

Mariya (cr6zym0nkeyiz) i have to agree that it is definitely more darker than TMI. i think i like TMI a little bit better though.

Wendes | 54 comments Yeah, and the relationship between the people in the Institute (Henry, Charlotte, Will, Jem and Jess) weren't as good and strong as the people in TMI. Except for Will and Jem they pretty much all get on each other's nerves. Charlotte loves them but they don't really see it or appreciate it.

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
Cassie did say that the other books in the MI series are going to be darker as well

ohh an fyi


i thought that should be mentioned i would love a shirt that said that and people on the streets would be like WTF!?

Wendes | 54 comments LOL it'd be like a Infernal Devices fan inside joke

Mariya (cr6zym0nkeyiz) hahaha. demon pox. i would so wear that shirt, too.

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

Wendes | 54 comments No Mundanes Allowed Treehouse?

message 10: by Jen (new) - rated it 5 stars

Jen | 41 comments I just finished it now and I loved it! I love the Will/Jem friendship. It's really sweet. I also like Tessa a lot too. And Henry is so funny!
I felt really sorry for Jessamine during the doll house chapter but after Thomas died I now dislike her.
AHH! What the hell does Will want from Magnus?
Overall, I like TMI better but it was still an excellent book.

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
First the Candy and Flowers
then the Appology Letters
THEN the Ravenous Demon Hords in that ORDER



Frosting the last refuge of the dying

message 12: by Amelle, The Shadowhunter (new) - rated it 5 stars

Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
also i saw one on cassies blog were a girl had one that said


Jazmyn | 96 comments Ronna wrote: "I love inside jokes that only people who've actually read it would now. The only one I own is a shirt that has "Muggle" written over it. They don't really make shirts like that. I actually want to ..."

What about:

Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

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Jen | 41 comments If I saw a random stranger wearing one of these shirts I'd run up to them and hug them.

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

message 17: by Sammi (new)

Sammi | 1 comments Hey guys! I have a question.....

you know how tessa made an appearance in city of glass at the end when shes talking to Magnus..

So she has clearly not aged like Magnus doesnt age, which makes me wonder if Will and the other shadowhunters she loves and is with in Clockwork angel are going to die? or what?

what are some of your opinions???

message 18: by Shel (new) - rated it 4 stars

Shel (cinderblizzerd) | 212 comments whats the part were tessa talks to magnus in city of glass?

message 19: by Shel (new) - rated it 4 stars

Shel (cinderblizzerd) | 212 comments what page #?

message 20: by Amelle, The Shadowhunter (new) - rated it 5 stars

Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
in the epilouge at the big party right before he goes and talkes to Clary

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
Sammi wrote: "Hey guys! I have a question.....

you know how tessa made an appearance in city of glass at the end when shes talking to Magnus..

So she has clearly not aged like Magnus doesnt age, which makes ..."

Well duh of course they're gonna die they're Human and they'll die at some point and we'll have their descendants (Jace)

message 22: by [deleted user] (last edited Sep 23, 2010 04:18PM) (new)

yeah! JACE! Sure they'll die! And Alec and Isabelle!
Before I read Clockwork Angel (and i thought Tessa was human) I thought that Magnus time travelled with Tessa to the party since he was wearing Victorian clothes.

message 23: by Amelle, The Shadowhunter (new) - rated it 5 stars

Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
Really it was posted all over the place that Tessa was a Warlock

and there is no time travel

message 24: by [deleted user] (new)

i know that NOW.

message 25: by Shel (new) - rated it 4 stars

Shel (cinderblizzerd) | 212 comments EVELYN (I BELIEVE IN DEMON POX! ) wrote: "in the epilouge at the big party right before he goes and talkes to Clary"

found it, why does Clary think she recognized her?

message 26: by [deleted user] (new)

we'll find out, i guess.

Cyndi | 12 comments I read all MI series over a year ago..just read Infernal Devices..can anyone break down who's who for me? Herondale, Ligthwood, etc...they are all in Infernal will save me re-reading Mortal Instruments...

message 28: by [deleted user] (new)

what do u mean?

message 29: by Shel (new) - rated it 4 stars

Shel (cinderblizzerd) | 212 comments Gabe (just doing short form) lightwood is Izzy, Alec and Max's ancester. will Herondale is Jace's ancester.

message 30: by [deleted user] (new)

oh. thats wat u mean. yeah. shel's right. and magnus is magnus for ya.

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
Shel wrote: "EVELYN (I BELIEVE IN DEMON POX! ) wrote: "in the epilouge at the big party right before he goes and talkes to Clary"

found it, why does Clary think she recognized her?"

i really wish i knew

Wendes | 54 comments I think Cassandra says that'll be explained later on soon

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
yea i think she did

message 35: by Shel (new) - rated it 4 stars

Shel (cinderblizzerd) | 212 comments god OMFG! OMFG! i NEED that book!!! clockwork prince is going to be AMAZING!

message 36: by [deleted user] (last edited Nov 13, 2010 11:18PM) (new)

YES. IT. WILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can't wait!!!!!!

Wendes | 54 comments omg same!!!! i wanna know what Will's secret is!!!

message 38: by [deleted user] (new)


Wendes | 54 comments lol newsflash

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod

Wendes | 54 comments always!!! ;)

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Amelle Kyre (the_shadowhunter) | 353 comments Mod
YEs !!!!!!!!!!

Marina | 196 comments EVELYN (I BELIEVE IN DEMON POX! ) wrote: "TEAM HERONDALE"
ik i love them both :P

message 44: by Daylighter, Mizpah (last edited Nov 06, 2011 01:53PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
Clockwork Angel: Of Loss
Of Loss: Will’s perspective on the events of Clockwork Angel, page 285-292

Will Herondale was burning.
This was not the first time he had consumed vampire blood, and he knew the pattern of the sickness. First there was a feeling of giddiness and euphoria, as if one had drunk too much gin — the brief period of pleasant drunkenness before the morbs set in. Then pain, starting at the toes and fingertips, working its way up as if lines of gunpowder had been laid across his body and were burning their way toward his heart.
He had heard the pain was not so great for humans: that their blood, thinner and weaker than Shadowhunter blood, did not fight the demon disease as Nephilim blood did. He was vaguely aware when Sophie came in with the holy water, splashing him with the cool stuff as she set the buckets down and went out again. Sophie’s hatred of him was as reliable as fog in London; he could feel it coming off her whenever she got near him. The force of it lifted him up onto his elbows now. He pulled a bucket close to him and upended it over his head, opening his mouth to swallow what he could.
For a moment, it doused the fire burning through his veins entirely. The pain receded, except for the throbbing in his head. He lay back down carefully, crooking an arm over his face to block the dim illumination coming from the low windows. His fingers seemed to trail light as they moved. He heard’s Jem’s voice in his head, scolding him for risking himself. But the face he saw against his eyelids wasn’t Jem.
She was looking at him. The very darkest voice of his conscience, the reminder that he could protect no one, and last of all himself. Looking the way he had the last time he had seen her; she never changed, which was how he knew she was a figment of his imagination.
“Cecily,” he whispered. “Cecy, for the love of God, let me be.”
“Will?” That startled him; she appeared to him often, but rarely spoke. She reached her hand out, and he would have reached for her, too, had not the clang and clatter of metal brought him out of his reverie. He cleared his throat.
“Back, are you, Sophie?” Will said. “I told you if you brought me another one of those infernal pails, I’d—”
“It’s not Sophie,” came the reply. “It’s me. Tessa.”
The hammering of his own pulse filled his ears. Cecily’s image faded and vanished against his eyelids. Tessa. Why had they sent her? Did Charlotte hate him as much as all that? Was this meant to be a sort of object lesson to her in the indignities and dangers of Downworld? When he opened his eyes he saw her standing in front of him, still in her velvet dress and gloves. Her dark curls were startling against her pale skin and her cheekbone was freckled, lightly, with blood, probably Nathaniel’s.
Your brother, he knew he should say. How is he? It must have been a shock to see him. There is nothing worse than seeing someone you love in danger.
But it had been years, and he had learned to swallow the words he wanted to say, transform them. Somehow they were talking about vampires, about the virus and how it was transmitted. She gave him the pail with a grimace — good, she should be disgusted by him — and he used it again to quench the fire, to still the burning in his veins and throat and chest.
“Does that help?” she asked, watching him with her clear gray eyes. “Pouring it over your head like that?”
Will imagined how he must look to her, sitting on the floor with a bucket over his head, and made a strangled noise, almost a laugh. Oh, the glamour of Shadowhunting! The warrior life he had dreamed of as a child!
“The questions you ask . . .” he began. Someone else, someone not Tessa, might have perhaps apologized for asking but she only stood still, watching him like a curious bird. He did not think he had ever seen someone with eyes the color of hers before: it was the color of gray mist blowing in from the sea in Wales.
You could not lie to someone with eyes that reminded you of your childhood.
“The blood makes me feverish, makes my skin burn,” he admitted. “I can’t get cool. But, yes, the water helps.”
“Will,” Tessa said. When he looked up again, she seemed to be haloed by light like an angel, though he knew it was the vampire blood blurring his vision. Suddenly she was moving toward him, gathering her skirts out of the way to sit by him on the floor. He wondered why she was doing that, and realized to his own horror that he had asked her to. He imagined the vampire disease in his body, breaking down his blood, weakening his will. He knew, intellectually, that he had drunk enough holy water to kill the disease before it could burrow into his bones, and that he could not put his lack of control down to the sickness. And yet — she was so close to him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body.
“You never laugh,” she was saying. “You behave as if everything is funny to you, but you never laugh. Sometimes you smile when you think no one is paying attention.”
He wanted to close his eyes. Her words went through him like the clean slice of a seraph blade, lighting his nerves on fire. He’d had no idea she had observed him so closely, or so accurately. “You,” he replied. “You make me laugh. From the moment you hit me with that bottle. Not to mention the way that you always correct me. With that funny look on your face when you do it. And the way you shouted at Gabriel Lightwood. And even the way you talked back to de Quincey. You make me . . .”
His voice trailed off. He could feel the cold water trickling down his back, over his chest, against his heated skin. Tessa sat only inches from him, smelling of powder and perfume and perspiration. Her damp curls curled against her cheeks, and her eyes were wide on him, her pale pink lips slightly parted. She reached up to push back a lock of her hair, and, feeling like he was drowning, he reached out for her hand. “There’s still blood,” he said, inarticulately. “On your gloves.”
She began to draw away, but Will would not let her go; he was drowning, still, drowning, and he could not release her. He turned her small right hand over. He had the strongest desire to reach for her entirely, to pull her against him and fold her in his arms, to encompass her slim, strong body with his. He bent his head, glad she could not see his face as the blood rushed up into it. Her gloves were ragged, torn where she had clawed at her brother’s manacles. With a flick of his fingers, he opened the pearl buttons that kept her glove closed, baring her wrist.
He could hear himself breathing. Heat spread through his body — not the unnatural heat of vampire sickness, but the more ordinary flush of desire. The skin of her wrist was translucently pale, the blue veins visible beneath. He could see the flutter of her pulse, feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. He stroked the softness of her wrist with the tips of his fingers and half-closed his eyes, imagining his hands on her body, the smooth skin of her upper arms, the silkiness of the legs hidden beneath her voluminous skirts. “Tessa,” he said, as if she had the slightest idea the effect she was having on him. There were women who might have, but Tessa was not one of them. “What do you want from me?”
“I—I want to understand you,” she whispered.
The thought was quite horrifying. “Is that really necessary?”
“I’m not sure anyone does understand you,” she breathed, “except possibly Jem.”
Jem. Jem had given up on understanding him long ago, Will thought. Jem was a study in how you could love someone entirely without understanding them at all. But most people were not Jem.
“But perhaps he only wants to know that there is a reason,” she was saying. Her gaze was fierce. Nothing stopped her arguing, he thought, or caring: in that way, she was like Jem: loss did not make her bitter, and betrayal did not beat down her faith. Unconsciously, she moved to draw her hand back, to gesture passionately, and he caught at it, slipping the glove off her hand. She gasped as if he had put his hands on her body, blood rising to stain her cheeks. Her bare, small hand, which curled like a dove inside his, went still. He lifted it to his mouth, his cheek, kissing her skin: brushing his lips across her knuckles, down to her wrist. He heard her cry out in a low voice, and lifted his head to see her sitting perfectly still, her hand held out, her eyes closed and her lips half-open.
He had kissed girls, other girls, when basic physical desire overcame common sense, in dark corners at parties or under the mistletoe. Quick, hurried kisses, most of them, although some surprisingly expert — where had Elspeth Mayburn learned how to do what she did with her teeth, and why had no one ever told her it wasn’t a good idea? — but this was different.
Before there had been controlled tension, a deliberate decision to give into what his body asked for, divorced from any other feeling. Cut free of any emotion at all. But this — this was heat flowering through his chest, shortening his breath, sending a tide of goosebumps over his skin. This was a feeling of pain when he let her hand go, a sickness of loss cured only when he pulled her toward him across the splintery wooden floor, his hands cupping the back of her neck as his lips descended on hers with equal parts tenderness and fierceness.
Her mouth opened under his, hesitant, and some corner of his mind cried out to him to slow his pace, that by any reasonable guess this was her first kiss. He forced his hands to slow down, to gently unclasp the fastenings in her hair and smooth the curls down over her shoulders and back, his fingertips tracing light patterns on her soft cheekbones, her bare shoulders. Her hair felt like warm silk running through his fingers and her body, pressed against his, was all softness. Her hands were light as feathers on the back of his neck, in his hair; when he drew her closer, she made a low sound against his mouth that nearly drove every last thought from his head. He began to bend her back toward the floor, moving his body over hers —
And froze. Panic rushed through his blood in a boiling flood as he saw the whole fragile structure he had built up around himself shatter, all because of this, this girl, who broke his control like nothing else ever had. He tore his mouth from her, pushing her away, the force of his terror nearly knocking her over. She stared at him through the tangled curtain of her hair, her face pale with shock.
“God in Heaven,” he whispered. “What was that?”
Her bewilderment was plain on her face. His heart contracted, pumping self-loathing through his veins. The one time, he thought. The only time —
“Tessa,” he said. “I think you had better go.”
“Go?” Her lips parted; they were swollen from his kisses. It was like looking at a wound he had inflicted, and at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. “I should not have been so forward. I’m sorry —”
“God.” The word surprised him; he had stopped believing in God a long time ago, and now he had invoked him twice. The pain on her face was almost more than he could bear, and not least because he had not intended to hurt her. So often, he intended to hurt and to wound, and this time he had not — not in the least — and he had caused more hurt than he could imagine. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her in his arms, not even to satisfy his desire but to impart tenderness. But doing so would only worsen the situation beyond imagining. “ Just leave me alone now,” he heard himself say. “Tessa. I’m begging you. Do you understand? I’m begging you. Please, please leave.”
Her reply came, finally, stiff with hurt and anger. “Very well,” she said, though it was clearly not. He chanced a look at her out of the corner of his eye: she was proud, she would not cry. She did not bother to gather up the hair clips he had scattered; she only rose to her feet and turned her back on him.

message 45: by Daylighter, Mizpah (last edited Nov 06, 2011 01:53PM) (new) - rated it 5 stars

Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
He deserved no better, he knew. He had thrown himself at her with no regard for her reputation or the indecorousness of his passion. Jem would have thought of it. Jem would have been more careful of her feelings. And once upon a time, he thought, as her footsteps receded, so would he. But he no longer knew how to be that person. He had covered up that Will for so long with pretense that it was the pretense he reached for first, and not the reality. He dug his nails into the floorboards, welcoming the pain, for it was little compared to the pain of knowing that he had lost more than Tessa’s good opinion this evening. He had lost Will Herondale. And he did not know if he could ever get him back.

Palak (Dust and Shadows) (umbrasumus) | 455 comments i posted that somewhere here too.
in another discussion.
hahahaha, it's doubled!
and now i read it again, and realize that it's kinda sad.

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Daylighter (pantea13) | 1431 comments Mod
Clockwork Angel: Will and Tessa Escaping From The Dark House

A very early conversation between Will and Tessa in which the nature of their escape was much different, and in which the Darke House was actually a working brothel of clockwork prostitutes.

Will handed Tessa up into the carriage, then swung himself up after her, shouting "Thomas! Go! Go!" at the driver, who cracked the reins. The carriage lurched forward as Will yanked the door shut, sending Tessa tumbling again him.

"Steady on," he said, and reached for her, but Tessa had already pulled away, settling into the seat opposite his. She yanked the curtain back from the window and stared out—there was the dirty street, the shabby buildings crowding in on either side. As the carriage whipped forward, they passed the alley she had spent so many days staring at—it was there, and then gone as they careened around a corner, nearly knocking over a costermonger pushing a donkey cart piled high with new potatoes. Tessa screamed.

Will reached past her and yanked the curtain shut. "It's better if you don't look," he told her pleasantly.

"He's going to kill someone. Or get us killed."

"No, he won't. Thomas is an excellent driver."

Tessa glared at him. "Clearly the word excellent means something else on this side of the Atlantic." The carriage lurched again, and Tessa clutched at the seat, squeezing her eyes shut. Her head was spinning, and not just from the movement of the carriage: it was the first time she had been outside the Red Room in over a month, and the sounds of the street outside, even filtered through the closed windows, seemed to echo inside her head like the booming of a drum. She heard Will, distantly, calling something out to the driver; the carriage slowed, and Tessa's grip on the seat relaxed slightly, the dizziness abating. She opened her eyes, and saw Will looking at her curiously. "Did you tell him where we were going?" she croaked.

"Yes," he said, "although I can't help finding it odd that someone like you would have a brother with an address in Mayfair."

Tessa blinked at him. "Someone like me?"

"A prostitute," said Will.

Tessa's mouth dropped open. "I am not a—a—"

"A prostitute?" Will said again, raising his eyebrows.

Tessa shut her mouth with a snap. "What a horrible thing to say. If that's your idea of a joking way to insult me—"

"I never joke," said Will, "or at least, I only joke when the occasion truly warrants it, which this one does not. I assumed you were a prostitute due to your presence in what can only be termed a brothel."

Tessa stared at him.

"You can't expect me to believe you were entirely ignorant of the Darke House's function?" Will inquired. "You must have seen what was going on."

"I told you, I was never allowed out of that room."

"I didn't realize that meant no one else was ever allowed in," Will said.

"What—oh, ugh. Ugh. There's something horribly wrong with you, isn't there? It's like you can't stop saying awful things."

Will's eyebrows went up; despite her anger, confusion, and horror, somehow Tessa couldn't stop herself from noticing that they made perfect dark half-circles above his eyes. "Now you sound like Jem."

"Who's Jem?"

"Never mind that," said Will. "I'm trying to figure out how someone could live in a brothel for a month and not notice. You must be terribly dull-witted."

Tessa glared.

"If it helps at all, it seemed to be quite a high-class establishment. Nicely furnished, fairly clean..."

"Sounds as if you've visited your fair share of brothels," Tessa said, sourly. "Making a study of them?"

"More of a hobby," said Will, and smiled like a bad angel. Before Tessa could say anything in return, the carriage jerked to a stop. "Seems that we're here," Will announced, and Tessa reached past him to pull back the curtain across the window; she stared out and saw that the carriage had drawn up in front of a tall Georgian townhouse in a pretty square lined with trees and other, similar houses. There was a iron-railed fence around the house, the number 89 marked prominently in silver numbers on the gate.

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Clockwork Angel: Blackfriars Bridge

A deleted bit of the conversation between Jem and Tessa on Blackfriars Bridge in which Jem talks more about his heritage and the state of relations between Britain and China during and after the Opium Wars.

"There was a place in China," said Jem, "called the Yuánmíng Yuán. The Gardens of Perfect Brightness. It was an Imperial residence. My mother went there to visit the Emperor once, a sort of ambassadorial visit from the Nephilim. She said it was the most beautiful place she had ever been. There were exquisite gardens, paintings, music, beautiful pavilions. They called it 'the Garden of gardens.'" He looked out over the water. "Fifteen years ago the British tore it to the ground. Reprisals for something that happened during the Arrow War. They killed the guards, stole anything they thought they could sell, and set the palace on fire. It took three days to burn. There's nothing left of all that beauty now but silent stones and scorched earth."

"I'm sorry," Tessa told him, having no idea what else she could possibly say.

"No one here cares, of course," said Jem. "They have never heard of the Gardens. Lord Elgin was the one who ordered the Gardens burned; for that, they made him viceroy of India. He is a celebrated man now. For what he did in my country I should hate him and all the Englishmen like him."

His voice was cool and clear, and sent a shiver up Tessa's spine. Across the bridge from them, the strolling couple had paused at a parapet; the man seemed to be pointing down at something at the water, the woman nodding as he spoke. "And do you? Hate them?"

"It does not matter," said Jem. "I am more than anything else a Shadowhunter. I am a brother to the Nephilim of England more than I am a brother to any mundane of the land where I was born. And when Nephilim look at me, they see only a Shadowhunter. It is the mundanes who look at me and see something they do not understand—a boy who is not quite white and not quite foreign either."

"Just as I am not human, and not demon either," Tessa said softly.

His eyes softened. "You are human," he said. "Never think you are not. I have seen you with your brother; I know how you care for him. If you can feel hope, guilt, sorrow, love—then you are human."

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Clockwork Angel: Deleted Scene

Nate and Tessa discuss Jessamine while she isn't around.

"You know," said Nate, "I'm feeling rather parched—I think I'd like some tea. If we could ring for a servant?"

"Oh, dear, you must be parched. I'm afraid I've been a most negligent hostess." Jessamine rose, all distress. "There are no bells in the library, but I'll get Sophie and have her ask Agnes to make up a tray for you."

She hurried from the room, smoothing her skirts down as she went. Nate watched her go with an appreciative glance before turning back to Tessa, who shot him a dubious look.

"You don't really want tea," she said. "You hate tea."

"I do, but I love my little sister." He grinned at her. "You were looking miserable. I take it you don't like Jessamine much? Why not? She seems delightful to me."

"She is delightful to you. Not so much to the rest of us." Tessa thought of Jessamine clinging to her in Hyde Park and hesitated. "It's just—she's like a child. Cruel sometimes and kind other times, at a whim. Other people aren't real to her. Of course she likes you—you're not a Shadowhunter. She despises Shadowhunters."

"Does she?" Nate's voice deepened the way it did when he was genuinely interested in something.

Rachel Triska (gennen) | 25 comments Very interesting! That could be a bit of foreshadowing right there.

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