The Whitechapel Fiend by Cassandra Clare, Maureen Johnson Read Free Book Online

could not really take in much more of the information. This was enough.
    “I see,” she said. “There’s someone I have to speak to.”
    “Make the arrangements for her to be moved,” the doctor said. “We can’t keep her here. They’re going to get in. They want to see.”
    “Constable,” Tessa said to a policeman by the door, “see to it that a cart is brought.”
    Tessa walked away quickly, back down through the crowd, breathing in as deeply as she could to get the smell of blood and entrails out of her nose. She felt a queasiness she had not experienced since her pregnancies. Will took one look at her and embraced her. Cecily came forward and put smelling salts under her nose. They had learned that smelling salts were necessary.
    “Bring out the detective,” Tessa said, when she had recovered. “He’s needed.”
    The inspector was retrieved and dressed. The smelling salts were applied, and he slowly came around. Once they had him on his feet and assured him that he had simply fainted, they left the area quickly and walked toward White’s Row.
    “Whatever it was,” Gabriel said, “it’s likely long gone. It happened hours ago. By having the body indoors, it went unnoticed for some time.”
    He took out his Sensor, but it showed no activity.
    “I suggest we return to the Institute,” he said. “We’ve learned what we can here. It’s time to apply ourselves to the problem in a different way. We have to look at the clues it leaves behind.”
    “The people,” Tessa said.
    “The people,” Gabriel corrected himself.
    *    *    *
    They were more awake now. Tessa wondered if she would ever sleep again. She found the transition from East to West London more repugnant this time—the clean buildings, the space, the trees, the parks, the lovely carriages, and the lovely clothes and shops. And just a mile or so away . . .
    “What is done cannot be undone,” Will said, taking her hand.
    “You didn’t see her.”
    “But we will catch the thing that attacked her.”
    As soon as they turned onto Fleet Street, Tessa felt something wasn’t right. She couldn’t figure out what it was. The street was utterly quiet. One of the servants from a neighboring property was sweeping leaves from the step. There was a coal cart and a wagon from a greengrocer delivering vegetables. She sat upright, every nerve tense, and when the carriage stopped, she swung the door open quickly and bounded out. Seeing her reaction, the other three followed in a similar fashion.
    The first thing that confirmed her fears was that Bridget did not greet them at the door.
    “Bridget?” Tessa called.
    Nothing.
    She looked up at their windows—clean, unbroken, dark. The curtains had been drawn. Will pushed open the door.
    They found Bridget at the foot of the staircase. Cecily rushed to her.
    “Unconscious,” she said. “But breathing. The children! Who is with the children?”
    As one, they raced up the stairs. Every light was out, every door closed, every curtain drawn. They all went in separate directions, running to the nursery, to the bedrooms, to every room on the upper floors. Nothing.
    “Shadowhunters  . . . ”
    The voice was neither male nor female, and it seemed to come from everywhere. Will and Tessa met in the corridor, and Will held a witchlight high.
    “What are you?” he yelled. “Where are the children?”
    “Shadowhunters  . . . ”
    “Where are the children? You can’t have an interest in them. Show yourself.”
    “Shadowhunters  . . . ”
    Gabriel and Cecily appeared, seraph blades ready. Will and Tessa reached for theirs. They walked down the steps, watching in every direction.
    “ I follow you, ” hissed the voice, which now seemed to come from below them. “Shadowhunters. I follow you home. Play my game . ”
    “What is your game?” Will called back. “I’ll play any game you like if you show yourself.”
    “The game is to hide. I like to hide. I like to take . . . the