Fragile Hearts (TID - Will Herondale fanfic)

Chapter 53: Burnt Hands

ELEANORA'S POV
"My Dear Mrs. Branwell,

Forgive me for troubling you at what must be a distressing time for your household. I was grieved, though I must confess not shocked, to hear of Mr. Carstairs's grave indisposition.

I believe you are aware that I am the happy possessor of a large—I might say exclusively large—portion of the medicine that Mr. Carstairs requires for his continued well-being. Thus we find ourselves in a most interesting situation, which I am eager to resolve to the satisfaction of us both. I would be very glad to make an exchange: If you are willing to confide Miss Gray to my keeping, I will place a large portion of yin fen in yours.

I send a token of my goodwill. Pray let me know your decision by writing to me. If the correct sequence of numbers that are printed at the bottom of this letter, are spoken to my automaton, I am sure to receive it.

Yours sincerely,

Axel Mortmain

  "That is all," Charlotte says, folding the letter in half and placing it back on the salver. "There are instructions on how to summon the automaton to which he wishes us to give our answer, and there are the number he speaks of, but they give no clue as to his location."

  There is a shocked silence. Will looks toward me, probably to hide his expression from the rest. The anguish in them is something I am still not used to. Jem is pale, his face turning the color of old ash, and Tessa sits very still, the light from the fire chasing shadows across her face.

  I swallow thickly, holding onto Will's hand even more tightly.

  "Mortmain wants me," Tessa finally breaks the silence. "In exchange for Jem's yin fen."

  "It is ridiculous," Jem says. "Untenable. The letter should be given to the Clave to see if they can discern anything about his location from it, but that is all."

  "They will not be able to discern anything about his location from it," Will says quietly. "The Magister has proved himself over and over too clever for that."

  "This is not clever," Jem says. "This is the crudest form of blackmail—"

  I feel so sick that I let go of Will's hand and bring a hand to my mouth, feeling like I had when I had first killed a demon and had it's blood spilled on me.

  "I do not disagree," Will says, shooting me a concerned look. "I say we take the packet as a blessing, a handful more of yin fen that will help you, and we ignore the rest."

  "Mortmain wrote the letter about me," Tessa says, interrupting them both. "The decision should be mine." She angles her body toward Charlotte. "I will go."

  There is another moment of dead silence. Charlotte looks ashen; The Lightwoods seem desperately uncomfortable—Gabriel looks as if he wishes he were anywhere else but there. The tension between Will, Jem, and Tessa feels like a powder keg that needs only a match to blow it to kingdom come.

  "No," Jem says finally, rising to his feet. "Tessa, you cannot."

She follows his motion, rising as well. "I can. You are my fiancé. I cannot allow you to die when I might help you, and Mortmain does not mean me physical harm—"

  "We do not know what he means! He cannot be trusted!" Will says suddenly, and then he puts his head down, his hand gripping the mantel so hard that his fingers were white. He's forcing himself to be silent.