Fragile Hearts (TID - Will Herondale fanfic)

Chapter 1: CLOCKWORK ANGEL

London, June 1878
Will Herondale grimaced. "Nice place to live in, isn't it? Let's hope they left something behind other than filth. Forwarding addresses, a few severed limbs, a prostitute or two. . ."

"Indeed," Jem Carstairs said. "Perhaps if we're fortunate, we can still catch syphilis."

"Or demon pox," Will suggested cheerfully, trying the door under the stairs. It swung open, unlocked as the front door had been. "There's always demon pox."

"Demon pox does not exist."

"Oh ye of little faith," said Will, disappearing into the darkness under the stairs. Jem went in behind him.

Of course, like the rest of the house, there was nothing in the cellar and the ground-floor rooms except rubbish and dust.

Jem didn't like the place at all. He felt a chill in this place.

They moved upstairs, and found a long corridor lined with doors. Will ducked into the first room on the right, and Jem went into the next. The room was empty, bare of furniture—they were taken away to be searched inside the Silent City.

Many of the other rooms were similar. Will disappeared into one room, and Jem the one across it.

His eyes widened upon taking in the sight of the room. There was one piece of furniture remaining in this room. An upholstered armchair, and seated in it was a woman. She was young, probably the same age as Jessamine Lovelace. She had on a cheap-looking printed dress, her hair was gathered up at the nape of her neck. It was dull-brown mousy hair, and her hands were bare and red; her eyes were wide open and staring.

"Will, come quickly!" Jem shouted, feeling bile rise in his throat.

Will hastily came into the room. He blinked, taking in the woman.

"Gah," He said, surprise evident on his features. "Is she—"

"She's dead," Jem said, shaking off the morbid image.

"Are you certain?" Will asked, not taking his eyes off the woman's face. He moved closer to her and placed a hand on her arm. "Well, she's not responding to my advances," He observed more brightly than Jem thought was necessary, "so she must be dead."

"Or she's a woman of good taste and sense," Jem muttered, kneeling down and looking up into the woman's face. "Miss," He said, and reached for her wrist, meaning to take a pulse though he knew she was dead.

She moved, jerking under his hand, and let out a low inhuman moan.

Jem stood up hastily, horror creeping in. "What in—"

"Beware!" The woman cried, raising her head.

With a yell, Will jumped back. Under another situation that would have amused Jem, but he was too startled to react.

"Beware Nephilim," The woman said. "As you slay others, so shall you be slain. Your angel cannot protect you against that which neither god nor the devil has made, an army born neither of Heaven nor Hell. Beware the hand of man. Beware." Her voice rose to a high, grinding shriek, and she jerked back and forth in the chair like a puppet being yanked on invisible strings. "BEWARE BEWAREBEWARE—"

"Good god," muttered Jem.

"BEWARE!" The woman shrieked one last time, and toppled forward to sprawl in the ground, abruptly silenced.

Jem gaped, shocked. Before either him or Will could say a thing, however, there was a crash as the window broke and someone jumped in.

Will jumped back in surprise, pulling out his dagger. Jem got into a ready stance.

The figure stood and brushed the glass off. Jem's eyes widened in confusion and shock both.

The girl he'd known for about three years was there, looking at him, blank expression on her face. Since he'd first met her, she'd grown quite a bit.

Her auburn hair was tied back, drawn away from her face, though several wisps of hair managed to find their way into her face. Her green-blue eyes sparkled with mischief and anticipation both, her pale skin gleaming under the sun. Her lean, not quite tall nor short frame made men always turn and stare at her, Jem knew.

She currently wore Shadowhunter gear. He knew she hated wearing corsets and dresses. Sweat gleamed on her forehead.

"James," She said. She rarely used his full name, and when she did, it was serious. She turned to look at the woman and scowled. "She's dead, I see."

"What are you doing here?" Jem blurted out, unable to help himself.

Eleanora's eyes travelled from Jem to Will. She took Will in slowly. Unlike other girls, who blushed when seeing Will, Eleanora simply frowned. Jem knew that she didn't blush.

"My home was attacked," She said. "Just this week. By those wretched Dark Sisters. They killed my mother. I didn't want to trouble you. You failed to meet up with me today, and I got worried. I saw your carriage, though."

"Your Mother was killed?" Jem asked, shocked.

A dark look passed over Eleanora. "Yes. I only just managed to escape."

"You should've told me sooner. Where have you been this whole week?" asked Jem, overprotectiveness heard in his voice.

"Excuse me," Will said, voice hard, "but who are you?"

Eleanora's eyes narrowed at Will. "Eleanora. Eleanora Nightstorm. And you?"

"William Herondale," Will said, snarling as he turned to Jem. "How do you know her?"

Jem felt guilt in him. Eleanora was the only thing he never told Will of. They were both his best friends, but he couldn't betray Eleanora. It was better for him to keep both than lose one.

"Will," Jem started, "it's a long story. How about we head to the Institute. I'll explain everything there."

"She's a Shadowhunter?!" Will exclaimed.

"That I am," Eleanora said, scowling. "Now, I believe you have to take the machine lady."