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Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices #1)

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Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices #1) Cover

ISBN13: 9781416975861
ISBN10: 1416975861
Condition: Standard
Dustjacket: Standard
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Excerpt

London, April 1878.

 

The demon exploded in a shower of ichor and guts. William Herondale jerked back the dagger he was holding, but it was too late. The viscous acid of the demon’s blood had already begun to eat away at the shining blade. He swore and tossed the weapon aside; it landed in a filthy puddle and commenced smoldering like a doused match. The demon itself, of course, had vanished—dispatched back to whatever hellish world it had come from, though not without leaving a mess

behind.

“Jem!” Will called, turning around. “Where are you? Did you see that? Killed it with one blow! Not bad, eh?”

But there was no answer to Will’s shout; his hunting partner had been standing behind him in the damp and crooked street a few moments before, guarding his back, Will was positive, but now Will was alone in the shadows. He frowned in annoyance—it was much less fun showing off without Jem to show off to. He glanced behind him, to where the street narrowed into a passage that gave onto the black, heaving water of the Thames in the distance. Through the gap Will could see the dark outlines of docked ships, a forest of masts like a leafless orchard. No Jem there; perhaps he had gone back to Narrow Street in search of better illumination. With a shrug Will headed back the way he had come.

Narrow Street cut across Limehouse, between the docks beside the river and the cramped slums spreading west toward Whitechapel. It was as narrow as its name suggested, lined with warehouses and lopsided wooden buildings. At the moment it was deserted; even the drunks staggering home from the Grapes up the road had found somewhere to collapse for the night. Will liked Limehouse, liked the feeling of being on the edge of the world, where ships left each day for unimaginably far ports. That the area was a sailor’s haunt, and consequently full of gambling hells, opium dens, and brothels, didn’t hurt either. It was easy to lose yourself in a place like this. He didn’t even mind the smell of it—smoke and rope and tar, foreign spices mixed with the dirty riverwater smell of the Thames.

Looking up and down the empty street, he scrubbed the sleeve of his coat across his face, trying to rub away the ichor that stung and burned his skin. The cloth came away stained green and black. There was a cut on the back of his hand too, a nasty one. He could use a healing rune. One of Charlotte’s, preferably. She was particularly good at drawing iratzes.

A shape detached itself from the shadows and moved toward Will. He started forward, then paused. It wasn’t Jem, but rather a mundane policeman wearing a bell-shaped helmet, a heavy overcoat, and a puzzled expression. He stared at Will, or rather through Will. However accustomed Will had become to glamour, it was always strange to be looked through as if he weren’t there. Will was seized with the sudden urge to grab the policeman’s truncheon and watch while the man flapped around, trying to figure out where it had gone; but Jem had scolded him the few times he’d done that before, and while Will never really could understand Jem’s objections to the whole enterprise, it wasn’t worth making him upset.

With a shrug and a blink, the policeman moved past Will, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about swearing off the gin before he truly started seeing things. Will stepped aside to let the man pass, then raised his voice to a shout: “James Carstairs! Jem! Where are you, you disloyal bastard?”

This time a faint reply answered him. “Over here. Follow the witchlight.”

Will moved toward the sound of Jem’s voice. It seemed to be coming from a dark opening between two warehouses; a faint gleam was visible within the shadows, like the darting light of a will-o’-the-wisp. “Did you hear me before? That Shax demon thought it could get me with its bloody great pincers, but I cornered it in an alley—”

“Yes, I heard you.” The young man who appeared at the mouth of the alley was pale in the lamplight—paler even than he usually was, which was quite pale indeed. He was bareheaded, which drew the eye immediately to his hair. It was an odd bright silver color, like an untarnished shilling. His eyes were the same silver, and his fine-boned face was angular, the slight curve of his eyes the only clue to his heritage.

There were dark stains across his white shirtfront, and his hands were thickly smeared with red.

Will tensed. “You’re bleeding. What happened?”

Jem waved away Will’s concern. “It’s not my blood.” He turned his head back toward the alley behind him. “It’s hers.”

Will glanced past his friend, into the thicker shadows of the alley. In the far corner of it was a crumpled shape—only a shadow in the darkness, but when Will looked closely, he could make out the shape of a pale hand, and a wisp of fair hair.

“A dead woman?” Will asked. “A mundane?”

“A girl, really. Not more than fourteen.”

At that, Will cursed with great volume and expression. Jem waited patiently for him to be done.

“If we’d only happened along a little earlier,” Will said finally. “That bloody demon —”

“That’s the peculiar thing. I don’t think this is the demon’s work.” Jem frowned. “Shax demons are parasites, brood parasites. It would have wanted to drag its victim back to its lair to

lay eggs in her skin while she was still alive. But this girl—she was stabbed, repeatedly. And I don’t think it was here, either. There simply isn’t enough blood in the alley. I think she was attacked elsewhere, and she dragged herself here to die of her injuries.”

“But the Shax demon—”

“I’m telling you, I don’t think it was the Shax. I think the Shax was pursuing her—hunting her down for something, or someone, else.”

 “Shaxes have a keen sense of scent,” Will allowed. “I’ve heard of warlocks using them to follow the tracks of the missing. And it did seem to be moving with an odd sort of purpose.”

He looked past Jem, at the pitiful smallness of the crumpled shape in the alley. “You didn’t find the weapon, did you?”

“Here.” Jem drew something from inside his jacket—a knife, wrapped in white cloth. “It’s a sort of misericord, or hunting dagger. Look how thin the blade is.”

Will took it. The blade was indeed thin, ending in a handle made of polished bone. The blade and hilt both were stained with dried blood. With a frown he wiped the flat of the knife across the rough fabric of his sleeve, scraping it clean until a symbol, burned into the blade, became visible. Two serpents, each biting the other’s tail, forming a perfect circle.

“Ouroboros,” Jem said, leaning in close to stare at the knife. “A double one. Now, what do you think that means?”

“The end of the world,” said Will, still looking at the dagger, a small smile playing about his mouth, “and the beginning.”

Jem frowned. “I understand the symbology, William. I meant, what do you think its presence on the dagger signifies?”

The wind off the river was ruffling Will’s hair; he brushed it out of his eyes with an impatient gesture and went back to studying the knife. “It’s an alchemical symbol, not a warlock or Downworlder one. That usually means humans—the foolish mundane sort who think trafficking in magic is the ticket for gaining wealth and fame.”

“The sort who usually end up a pile of bloody rags inside some pentagram.” Jem sounded grim.

“The sort who like to lurk about the Downworld parts of our fair city.” After wrapping the handkerchief around the blade carefully, Will slipped it into his jacket pocket. “D’you think Charlotte will let me handle the investigation?”

“Do you think you can be trusted in Downworld? The gambling hells, the dens of magical vice, the women of loose morals . . .”

Will smiled the way Lucifer might have smiled, moments before he fell from Heaven. “Would tomorrow be too early to start looking, do you think?”

Jem sighed. “Do what you like, William. You always do.”

 

 

Southampton, May.

 

Tessa could not remember a time when she had not loved the clockwork angel. It had belonged to her mother once, and her mother had been wearing it when she died. After that it had sat in her mother’s jewelry box, until her brother, Nathaniel, took it out one day to see if it was still in working order.

The angel was no bigger than Tessa’s pinky finger, a tiny statuette made of brass, with folded bronze wings no larger than a cricket’s. It had a delicate metal face with shut crescent eyelids, and hands crossed over a sword in front. A thin chain that looped beneath the wings allowed the angel to be worn around the neck like a locket.

Tessa knew the angel was made out of clockwork because if she lifted it to her ear she could hear the sound of its machinery, like the sound of a watch. Nate had exclaimed in surprise that it was still working after so many years, and he had looked in vain for a knob or a screw, or some other method by which the angel might be wound. But there had been nothing to find. With a shrug he’d given the angel to Tessa. From that moment she had never taken it off; even at night the angel lay against her chest as she slept, its constant ticktock, ticktock like the beating of a second heart.

She held it now, clutched between her fingers, as the Main nosed its way between other massive steamships to find a spot at the Southampton dock. Nate had insisted that she come to Southampton instead of Liverpool, where most transatlantic steamers arrived. He had claimed it was because Southampton was a much pleasanter place to arrive at, so Tessa couldn’t help being a little disappointed by this, her first sight of England. It was drearily gray. Rain drummed down onto the spires of a distant church, while black smoke rose from the chimneys of ships and stained the already dull-colored sky. A crowd of people in dark clothes, holding umbrellas, stood on the docks. Tessa strained to see if her brother was among them, but the mist and spray from the ship were too thick for her to make out any individual in great detail.

Tessa shivered. The wind off the sea was chilly. All of Nate’s letters had claimed that London was beautiful, the sun shining every day. Well, Tessa thought, hopefully the weather there was better than it was here, because she had no warm clothes with her, nothing more substantial than a woolen shawl that had belonged to Aunt Harriet, and a pair of thin gloves. She had sold most of her clothes to pay for her aunt’s funeral, secure in the knowledge that her brother would buy her more when she arrived in London to live with him.

A shout went up. The Main, its shining black-painted hull gleaming wet with rain, had anchored, and tugs were plowing their way through the heaving gray water, ready to carry baggage and passengers to the shore. Passengers streamed off the ship, clearly desperate to feel land under their feet. So different from their departure from New York. The sky had been blue then, and a brass band had been playing. Though, with no one there to wish her good-bye, it had not been a merry occasion.

Hunching her shoulders, Tessa joined the disembarking crowd. Drops of rain stung her unprotected head and neck like pinpricks from icy little needles, and her hands, inside their insubstantial gloves, were clammy and wet with rain. Reaching the quay, she looked around eagerly, searching for a sight of Nate. It had been nearly two weeks since she’d spoken to a soul,

having kept almost entirely to herself on board the Main. It would be wonderful to have her brother to talk to again.

He wasn’t there. The wharves were heaped with stacks of luggage and all sorts of boxes and cargo, even mounds of fruit and vegetables wilting and dissolving in the rain. A steamer was departing for Le Havre nearby, and damp-looking sailors swarmed close by Tessa, shouting in French. She tried to move aside, only to be almost trampled by a throng of disembarking passengers hurrying for the shelter of the railway station.

But Nate was nowhere to be seen.

“You are Miss Gray?” The voice was guttural, heavily accented. A man had moved to stand in front of Tessa. He was tall, and was wearing a sweeping black coat and a tall hat, its brim collecting rainwater like a cistern. His eyes were peculiarly bulging, almost protuberant, like a frog’s, his skin as rough-looking as scar tissue. Tessa had to fight the urge to cringe away from him. But he knew her name. Who here would know her name except someone who knew Nate, too?

“Yes?”

“Your brother sent me. Come with me.”

“Where is he?” Tessa demanded, but the man was already walking away. His stride was uneven, as if he had a limp from an old injury. After a moment Tessa gathered up her skirts and hurried after him.

He wound through the crowd, moving ahead with purposeful speed. People jumped aside, muttering about his rudeness as he shouldered past, with Tessa nearly running to keep up. He turned abruptly around a pile of boxes, and came to a halt in front of a large, gleaming black coach. Gold letters had been painted across its side, but the rain and mist were too thick for Tessa to read them clearly.

The door of the carriage opened and a woman leaned out. She wore an enormous plumed hat that hid her face. “Miss Theresa Gray?”

Tessa nodded. The bulging-eyed man hurried to help the woman out of the carriage—and then another woman, following after her. Each of them immediately opened an umbrella and raised it, sheltering themselves from the rain. Then they fixed their eyes on Tessa.

They were an odd pair, the women. one was very tall and thin, with a bony, pinched face. Colorless hair was scraped back into a chignon at the back of her head. She wore a dress of brilliant violet silk, already spattered here and there with splotches of rain, and matching violet gloves. The other woman was short and plump, with small eyes sunk deep into her head; the bright pink gloves stretched over her large hands made them look like colorful paws.

“Theresa Gray,” said the shorter of the two. “What a delight to make your acquaintance at last. I am Mrs. Black, and this is my sister, Mrs. Dark. Your brother sent us to accompany you to London.”

Tessa—damp, cold, and baffled—clutched her wet shawl tighter around herself. “I don’t understand. Where’s Nate? Why didn’t he come himself?”

“He was unavoidably detained by business in London. Mortmain’s couldn’t spare him. He sent ahead a note for you, however.” Mrs. Black held out a rolled-up bit of paper, already dampened with rain.

Tessa took it and turned away to read it. It was a short note from her brother apologizing for not being at the docks to meet her, and letting her know that he trusted Mrs. Black and Mrs.

Dark—I call them the Dark Sisters, Tessie, for obvious reasons, and they seem to find the name agreeable!—to bring her safely to his house in London. They were, his note said, his landladies as well as trusted friends, and they had his highest recommendation.

That decided her. The letter was certainly from Nate. It was in his handwriting, and no one else ever called her Tessie. She swallowed hard and slipped the note into her sleeve, turning back to face the sisters. “Very well,” she said, fighting down her lingering sense of disappointment—she had been so looking forward to seeing her brother. “Shall we call a porter to fetch my trunk?”

“No need, no need.” Mrs. Dark’s cheerful tone was at odds with her pinched gray features. “We’ve already arranged to have it sent on ahead.” She snapped her fingers at the bulging-eyed man, who swung himself up into the driver’s seat at the front of the carriage. She placed her hand on Tessa’s shoulder.

“Come along, child; let’s get you out of the rain.”

As Tessa moved toward the carriage, propelled by Mrs. Dark’s bony grip, the mist cleared, revealing the gleaming golden image painted on the side of the door. The words “The Pandemonium Club” curled intricately around two snakes biting each other’s tails, forming a circle. Tessa frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing you need worry about,” said Mrs. Black, who had already climbed inside and had her skirts spread out across one of the comfortable-looking seats. The inside of the carriage was richly decorated with plush purple velvet bench seats facing each other, and gold tasseled curtains hanging in the windows. Mrs. Dark helped Tessa up into the carriage, then clambered in behind her. As Tessa settled herself on the bench seat, Mrs. Black reached to shut the carriage door behind her sister, closing out the gray sky. When she smiled, her teeth gleamed in the dimness as if they were made out of metal. “Do settle in, Theresa. We’ve a long ride ahead of us.”

Tessa put a hand to the clockwork angel at her throat, taking comfort in its steady ticking, as the carriage lurched forward into the rain.

 

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Average customer rating based on 11 comments:

Kacey, November 12, 2014 (view all comments by Kacey)
Clockwork Angel is the start to my all time favorite series: The Infernal Devices. It wasn't always that way. When Clockwork Angel first came out I was really into the original series, The Mortal Instruments. So when I started reading this book I was in distress! Where's Clary? Jace? All my beloved characters?! I kept reading and soon I became enthralled by the dirty London streets and the gorgeous Victorian dresses. The new main character Tessa, with her book smarts and quiet strength, resounded much more with me than Clary ever did. Seriously a MUST READ!
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Traci Newcomb, July 20, 2014 (view all comments by Traci Newcomb)
A great star to what I hope will be a great series. The characters were funny and very detailed. I can't wait to continue this series and grab the next book.
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Cora, September 1, 2013 (view all comments by Cora)
Last summer, I read Clockwork Angel, the first book of the Infernal Devices series by Cassandra Clare. The Trilogy, Clockwork Angel, Clockwork Prince, Clockwork Princess, is a rollicking, hard hitting, and complex Steampunk Romance set. Recently, I decided to read the rest of the series. I needed to revisit the story, before starting Clockwork Prince.

One of the best ways to reflect on a book is to write a book review. So, here goes:
“Magic is dangerous ��" but love is more dangerous still.” (Back of the book)

I’d switch those sentiments around. There’s love, romance, sexual tension, triangles and all the usual suspects in the book, but the more exciting parts of the book are jam-packed with action and magic, which is dangerous, exciting, and fun to read. The romance stories that play out in the novel are almost too predictable, which is why I’d switch the quotation.

Basically here’s the story: “When sixteen-year-old Tessa Gray arrives in England during the reign of Queen Victoria, something terrifying is waiting for her in London’s Downworld, where vampires, warlocks and other supernatural folk stalk the gaslit streets. Friendless and hunted, Tessa seeks refuge with the Shadowhunters, a band of warriors dedicated to ridding the world of demons. Drawn ever deeper into their world, she finds herself fascinated by ��" and torn between ��" two best friends, and quickly realizes that love may be the most dangerous magic of all.” (Back of the book, again)

What I like about this book is the dark urban fantasy: Shadowhunters, vampires, werewolves, and other supernatural beings both underground and on the streets of London. Sometimes urban fantasy can make me yawn but not this book. Throw in a little Steampunk, and you’ve got Clockwork Angel. It is Victorian London, how could there not be Steampunk?

Add to all that goodness a few vile, creepy characters, and some likeable, eccentric characters, and you have a book that’s hard to put down. The protagonist and her three new “friends” are appealing for various reasons, which you should discover for yourself. They are all flawed, complex. And, yes, they have secrets.

One of my favorite characters is Henry, the adult in charge, who makes wild, offbeat, and eerie inventions, which don’t always work. His creations are Steampunk heaven. He’s absent-minded, absorbed in his work, and slightly incompetent. Thankfully, his wife has her act together.

By the end of the book, Tessa transforms from a scared and helpless girl into a strong, independent young woman.

I thoroughly enjoyed the alternate world Cassandra Clare creates. The demon fighting Shadowhunters, the magic of their rune tattoos, and the alternate culture of the book are well developed and intriguing. I bought into the concepts immediately.

Clockwork Angel is well written with interesting characters. And, oh, yeah, there’s romance to set your heart atwitter. Okay, I’ll admit it. I liked the romance.

Cora Foestner
corafoerstner.com
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Product Details

ISBN:
9781416975861
Author:
Clare, Cassandra
Publisher:
Margaret K. McElderry Books
Author:
Johnson, Maureen
Author:
Fisher, Catherine
Subject:
Fantasy & Magic
Subject:
Historical - Other
Subject:
Social Issues - General
Subject:
Historical - Europe
Subject:
Science Fiction, Fantasy, & Magic
Subject:
Secret societies
Subject:
Orphans
Subject:
Children s-Science Fiction and Fantasy
Subject:
Mysteries & Detective Stories
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Subject:
Cassandra Claire; Cassie Claire; Cassie Clare; The Mortal Instruments; Mortal Instruments; Infernal Devices; Infernal Instruments; Mortal Devices; Internal; Bane; London; England; Shadowhunter; Victorian; Tessa; shapeshifter; warlock; vampire; werewolves;
Edition Description:
Hardback
Series:
The Infernal Devices
Series Volume:
2
Publication Date:
20100831
Binding:
HARDCOVER
Grade Level:
from 7
Language:
English
Illustrations:
f/c jacket--sfx
Pages:
304
Dimensions:
9 x 6 in 23.17 oz
Age Level:
13-17

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Related Subjects


Children's » Historical Fiction » Europe
Children's » Paranormal Fiction
Children's » Science Fiction and Fantasy » General
Young Adult » Fiction » Paranormal
Young Adult » General

Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices #1) Used Hardcover
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$12.95 In Stock
Product details 304 pages Margaret K. McElderry Books - English 9781416975861 Reviews:
"Staff Pick" by ,

This steampunk prequel to the Mortal Instruments series has everything a teen could want. Sixteen-year-old Tessa's introduction to London's Downworld shows her a world of danger and excitement. A dash of romance is added when she meets not one, but two intriguing Shadowhunter boys.

"Publishers Weekly Review" by , "This first book in Clare's Infernal Device series, a prequel to her bestselling Mortal Instruments books, opens as Tessa's pleasant life in 1878 New York is coming to an end when her guardian aunt dies. Upon her arrival in London, where her brother lives, Tessa is kidnapped by the Dark Sisters, who force her to learn to use a rare power--shape-shifting--she didn't know she had. Her rescue by a young man named Will leads her to the Shadowhunters--Nephilim descended from humans and angels--who enforce the magical Accords against demons and other creatures. Tessa gets caught between the various players seeking to use her amid a plot to conquer Britain. The events often read as bleakly as the Victorian London weather, punctuated by Clare's trademark humor, empathy, and authentic characters, who fight their own flaws and tragic pasts as often as they do evil. Mysteries, misdirection, and riddles abound, and while there are some gruesome moments, they never feel gratuitous. Fans of the Mortal Instruments series and newcomers alike won't be disappointed. Ages 14 — up. (Aug.)" Publishers Weekly (Copyright PWyxz LLC)
"Synopsis" by , When 16-year-old Tessa Gray crosses the ocean to find her brother, her destination is England, the time is the reign of Queen Victoria, and something terrifying is waiting for her in London's Downworld, where vampires, warlocks, and other supernatural beings stalk the gaslit streets.
"Synopsis" by ,
This New York Times bestselling author once again shows us that she is a master of world-building and surprising plot-twists. The vast, intricate world, fascinating revelations, and unexpected turns in the final book of the Obsidian Mirror trilogy will appeal to readers of Cassandra Claire, and will satisfy existing fans fully.

 

"Synopsis" by ,
Don't miss this New York Times bestselling sequel to the Edgar Award-nominated THE NAME OF THE STAR!

After her near-fatal run-in with the Jack the Ripper copycat, Rory Devereaux has been living in Bristol under the close watch of her parents. So when her therapist suddenly suggests she return to Wexford, Rory jumps at the chance to get back to her friends. But Rorys brush with the Ripper touched her more than she thought possible: shes become a human terminus, with the power to eliminate ghosts on contact. She soon finds out that the Shades—the citys secret ghost-fighting police—are responsible for her return. The Ripper may be gone, but now there is a string of new inexplicable deaths threatening London. Rory has evidence that the deaths are no coincidence. Something much more sinister is going on, and now she must convince the squad to listen to her before its too late.

In this follow-up to the Edgar Award-nominated THE NAME OF THE STAR, Maureen Johnson adds another layer of spectacularly gruesome details to the streets of London that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very end.

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