Free The Infernal Devices 01 - Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare Page B

it dreadful, being so evil? Are you worried you’ll go to Hell?” She leaned closer to Tessa. “What do you think the Devil’s
like
?”
    Tessa set her fork down. “Would you like to meet him? I could summon him up in a trice if you like. Being a warlock, and all.”
    Will let out a whoop of laughter. Jessamine’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no call to be rude,” she began—then broke off as Charlotte sat bolt upright with an astonished shriek.
    “Henry!”
    A man was standing in the dining room’s arched doorway—a familiar-looking tall man, with a shock of ginger hairand hazel eyes. He wore a torn tweed Norfolk jacket over a shockingly bright striped waistcoat; his trousers were covered in what looked peculiarly like coal dust. But none of that was what had made Charlotte scream; it was the fact that his left arm appeared to be on fire. Little flames licked up his arm from a point above his elbow, releasing tendrils of black smoke.
    “Charlotte, darling,” Henry said to his wife, who was staring at him in gape-mouthed horror. Jessamine, beside her, was wide eyed. “Sorry I’m late. You know, I think I might nearly have the Sensor working—”
    Will interrupted. “Henry,” he said, “you’re on fire. You do know that, don’t you?”
    “Oh, yes,” Henry said eagerly. The flames were now nearly to his shoulder. “I’ve been working like a man possessed all day. Charlotte, did you hear what I said about the Sensor?”
    Charlotte dropped her hand from her mouth. “Henry!” she shrieked. “Your
arm
!”
    Henry glanced down at his arm, and his mouth dropped open. “Bloody
hell
” was all he had time to say before Will, exhibiting a startling presence of mind, stood up, seized the vase of flowers off the table, and hurled the contents over Henry. The flames went out, with a faint protesting sizzle, leaving Henry standing soaking wet in the doorway, one sleeve of his jacket blackened and a dozen damp white flowers strewn at his feet.
    Henry beamed and patted the burned sleeve of his jacket with a look of satisfaction. “You know what this means?”
    Will set the vase down. “That you set yourself on fire and didn’t even notice?”
    “That the flame-retardant mixture I developed last week works!” Henry said proudly. “This material must have beenburning for a good ten minutes, and it isn’t even half burned through!” He squinted down at his arm. “Perhaps I ought to set the other sleeve on fire and see how long—”
    “Henry,” said Charlotte, who appeared to have recovered from her shock, “if you set yourself on fire deliberately, I will institute divorce proceedings. Now sit down and eat your supper. And say hello to our guest.”
    Henry sat, glanced across the table at Tessa—and blinked in surprise. “I know you,” he said. “You bit me!” He sounded pleased about it, as if recollecting a pleasant memory they’d both shared.
    Charlotte shot a despairing look at her husband.
    “Have you asked Miss Gray about the Pandemonium Club yet?” Will asked.
    The Pandemonium Club.
“I know the words. They were written on the side of Mrs. Dark’s carriage,” Tessa said.
    “It’s an organization,” Charlotte said. “A rather old organization of mundanes who have interested themselves in the magical arts. At their meetings they do spells and try to summon up demons and spirits.” She sighed.
    Jessamine snorted. “I can’t imagine why they bother,” she said. “Messing about with spells and wearing hooded robes and setting little fires. It’s ridiculous.”
    “Oh, they do more than that,” said Will. “They’re more powerful in Downworld than you might think. Many rich and important figures in mundane society are members—”
    “That only makes it sillier.” Jessamine tossed her hair. “They have money and power. Why are they playing around with magic?”
    “A good question,” said Charlotte. “Mundanes who involvethemselves in things they know nothing about are likely