CHAPTER ONE.

Humans, within their short lifespan, have been said to be capable of creating at least one, if not numerous, emotional connections with other individuals. Through history, it has been evident that most people are bound to find what is termed as "love" in another, and it is through that, that various other experiences and emotions are unleashed, enhancing one's journey through life.

That being said, Magnus Bane was not human. He was a warlock; half a demon. Also, he did not have a short life span. Magnus Bane was about 800 years old. Surely, he couldn't experience these connections?

Alas, he could, and he did. Throughout his time walking the earth, the magnificent – as he claimed himself to be – Magnus Bane had been in countless relationships with creatures of all sorts. Some were fleeting, some were casual and fun, and some – fortunately or unfortunately, depending on perspective – serious. One of them was a certain vampire, Lady Camille, who, beautiful and immortal as she was and still is, left him. Another, a young, painfully mortal Shadowhunter named Alec Lightwood, attempted to shorten the warlock's lifespan. A loving gesture with the intention of having them live, age and die together, yet awfully twisted to the point where Magnus had realized they just wouldn't work. Pity.

And so there ended the chapter of Magnus Bane's life as a Shadowhunter pet, and while a short period of his time had been spent in broken spirits over a lost love, the warlock had moved on and back into the party scene, once again as the reputable High Warlock of Brooklyn.

In the time that Magnus had spent holed up in his fancy apartment, the world had moved along with much happening. For one, the Shadowhunter trio had, on Isabelle's insistance that it would be good for Alec and Jace for some reason, been transferred out of the country temporarily to serve in some European country which had somehow run short of their own demon-killing people. It might have been France. Magnus wasn't sure, since he had virtually cut all ties with them.

Though, after his return – which elicited several ooh's and ahh's – Magnus had learnt that Clary Fray was the only one who stayed behind, with her parents insisting that she stay in the country within their reach. Then again, they weren't to blame for being overprotective, given what Clary had been through since learning of her identity as a Shadowhunter. Parental restrictions... Magnus wondered what it actually felt like.

It was as if his life had returned, and would remain normal – well, as normal as the life of Magnus Bane could get. And fortunately, that at least meant that he could detach himself from any Shadowhunter drama.

Only, being Magnus Bane had just as many complications as it had perks.

It had been a long night, a night which housed a massive party hosted by the High Warlock. Magnus had just made his way back to his apartment, slightly tipsy but otherwise alert enough to function at near normal levels. The sun had maybe a couple hours before it peeked out over the horizon, and Magnus was set straight on being able to fall into the oblivion of sleep before then. Then again, not everything went as planned.

A loud knock on the door interrupted the warlock just as he was about to remove his glitter, and with a slight frown, he made his way to a little device attached to one of the walls. The device, as it seemed, was the control centre for the security camera set up outside the door. Looking at the screen, Magnus saw a lone figure who, much to his irritation, continued to pound on the door. Another looks and he realized that he knew the irritant – it was Luke.

Opening the door, Magnus gave the werewolf a bored look. "You do know it's four in the morning?"

"Not like you're asleep anyway," Luke grunted in annoyance, but Magnus could see that his eyes shone with fear and desperation more than anything. Then, as if remembering why he was here in the first place, the man looked at Magnus, his expression serious. "Clary's been kidnapped."

Magnus stilled. Clary was... He shook his head, and the look in his eyes hardened. "It has nothing to do with me," he said coldly. "I've cut all ties with those Shadowhunters."

"Please, Magnus. Those Shadowhunters aren't here. You're the only one we can turn to," Luke pleaded. "You've known Clary since she was a child!"

"Clary was no more than a client. I hope you understand, Luke, that I am done with this business," he waved his hand at nothing in particular. "Or better yet, stay baffled over my actions. Then hopefully you won't come back." The door slammed.

A few seconds later, Luke turned and sprinted off down the road, probably in search of someone else who would help him, while Magnus had sunk to ground with his back against the door. It had taken quite a lot of effort for him to keep his indifference towards the matter, but the warlock had reminded himself that it was over for him, that his close connection to the Shadowhunters had brought nothing but trouble and there was no way he would ever muddle in their affairs again.

Except this time, it was entirely a Shadowhunter affair. It was Clary.

. . .

On the second night after Luke's visit, Magnus was holding another party, this time in commemoration of Chairman Meow's first ball of yarn it had toyed with, which had the unpleasant fate of rolling out onto the street and down a drain.

Everything was going smoothly – as smoothly as a party filled with Downworlders could go – but there was only one problem: the host was no where to be found. Not that it really mattered anyway, in the sense that, in typical Magnus-Bane-party fashion, there were too many people in the area for anyone to really realize that the warlock was not within the area. Unless specifically searching for him, one would simply assume that Magnus was merely somewhere else, swept off by the crowd. After all, what type of host would miss out on their own party?

In truth, Magnus was holed up in his private, soundproof room which kept the thrum of the party away from his ears. Lounging back onto the lush purple velvet armchair, the warlock had his eyes on the ground, his thoughts wandering.

Clary's been kidnapped, Luke's words rang in his head. You've known Clary since she was a child!

A frowned crossed Magnus' smooth features. He wasn't sure what to feel about the issue, or more precisely, whether to feel how he should or how he was, well, currently feeling but refusing to acknowledge it. The wise warlock desperately wanted to shut out his emotions and his instincts, which were screaming at him to do something, anything, that would help Clary, but his pride and stubbornness were preventing him from doing so. Eight hundred years of living and he still couldn't conquer his internal struggles. Brilliant.

The sound of glass breaking snapped his mind back to reality. Magnus looked down to see the glass of name wine he was holding in his hand in pieces just at the edge of the lush red carpet on the floor. The dark liquid had spread and seeped into and stained the material. Though, the breaking of the glass had acted as a catalyst – Magnus had decided what he was going to do about Clary's kidnapping, and it also gave him an excuse to purchase a new carpet.

Standing and striding purposefully out of the door, Magnus navigated his way through the cloud, as swiftly and quietly as he could manage, and finally stepped out into the chilly night air. His brisk walk gradually turned into a sprint, and soon the warlock was zipping down the streets towards his destination. Much time had been lost, and Magnus would never forgive himself if anything happened to Clary because of his indecision. As much as he wanted to stroll into the nearest furniture shop to look out for a replacement carpet, there were more pressing matters at hand, and Magnus would be damned if he wasted another second.

. . .

Jocelyn Fray sat down by the phone, wringing her hands nervously, waiting for any news, good or bad. Clary had been gone for three days, her captors – whoever they were – had not placed any demands, and there was no help that they could find. Magnus Bane was her first choice, but even he had turned them down. With the other Shadowhunters out of the country, all hope was lost.

A sharp knock on the door jolted her out of her despair ridden thoughts. The woman hurried over to and opened the door, her eyes a mix of fear and hope, but an expression of utter confusion overcame her when she saw the tall boy standing at her doorstep – or more precisely, an 800 year old warlock.

"Magnus Bane?" she stared.

"Can I?" he gestured into her house. Jocelyn stepped aside and he made his way into the small apartment. A few seconds later and they were sitting in the lounge room.

"So uh, about Clary," Magnus began. "When did this all... start?"

A faraway look was in Jocelyn's eyes. "Well it uh, it happened on Tuesday night. She was in her room, it was late. Then suddenly we heard her screaming." Her hands trembled. "So Luke and I went up to check, but by that time, she was already gone. The room was a mess, so obviously she tried to fight him. We even found this," Jocelyn got up and retrieved a blade from the mantel. "It's not Clary's."

"So the abductor was a Shadowhunter," Magnus frowned. "Did you have other enemies besides Valentine?"

"Not that we know of, no."

"Where's Luke?"

"He's been out for the past two days looking for help. There's no one we can turn to, Magnus. The Shadowhunters aren't here, and the Werewolves refuse to help. Said we were trouble." Tears started to form in her eyes.

Just then, the door opened. Luke stepped into the area, a look of confusion in his eyes that Magnus almost missed due to the tiredness that bled through his expression.

"Magnus," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Luke," Jocelyn stood. "Did you find anything? Anyone?"

The werewolf shook his head sadly. "I'm so sorry this happened, Jocelyn. I couldn't protect Clary. It's my fault she got taken."

"No, it isn't," the woman insisted. "Don't blame yourself."

"No, no. It was my idea to have her stay here. If she had gone with the Shadowhunters to Europe, she would've been safe. They could protect her better."

"Granted, that was a stupid decision," Magnus nodded. "Three of them sure beats one of you. I wonder how you've managed to get through all those years with that sort of judgement."

Jocelyn glared half heartedly at the warlock. She didn't have it in her to deal with his snarky attitude – not when there were more pressing matters at hand.

"But, luckily for you two, I've decided to grace you with my assistance," he paused. "Clary means a lot more to me than I realize," he admitted with a frown, then looked up at them, his eyes serious. "I'll get her back to you, whatever it takes."

Magnus left the small apartment, pulling his jacket tighter around his lean frame as though the cold affected him. From all the information he had gathered, the warlock had decided that he wasn't going to be able to do this alone, or rather, he didn't want to. As much as working with the Shadowhunters again irritated him, getting Clary back was his priority. Though, that didn't mean he was going to interact with them much, or that he would be nice to them.

He set off down the road, choosing to walk to his destination on the other side of town. It gave him time to think, and more than than, it gave him the opportunity to irritate the one he would be visiting.

. . .

Tessa Gray was not pleased when the doorbell rang three hours past midnight.

"Magnus," she greeted, her tone flat.

The male warlock grinned at his friend as he stood outside her door. "Glad to see you're still awake," he moved past her into her apartment.

Closing the door, Tessa sighed. "What do you want, Magnus?"

"Your company." When she raised an eyebrow, his grin dropped. "Are you always so skeptical of my motives? I'm offended, Miss Gray." Then his expression grew serious as he began to relay the entire incident to his friend.

"So what are you planning to do?" Tessa asked. She could see that Magnus was greatly affected by this, worry and determination flickered in his eyes.

"I'll cast a spell to find her first. Then I'll go to her, meet the demands of her captor, and free her," he stated simply.

Tessa scoffed. Trust Magnus Bane to make something as serious as this sound easy.

"Also, there's one thing I need you to do."

Ah, yes. Of course he needed a favor. It would be foolish to think that the great Magnus Bane would pay her a visit just to talk.

"Contact those Shadowhunters for me. The Lightwoods..." Magnus frowned slightly, "and that blond boy. Tell them Clary's in danger and I want to meet them, nothing else."

"Why can't you tell them?" Tessa glared.

"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't want anything to do with them, but this is for Clary's sake, so I must – but at a distance," he stood. "Thank you, Tessa. You're a good friend." And with that he strode out of her home.

Tessa's expression softened once she heard the door close and she was alone. The way her friend spoke about Clary – it was evident that Magnus clared for the girl a lot more than he cared to admit, or even realized. It wasn't unexpected though. He had known her since she was a child, had entered her mind, watched her grow up. Once, Tessa had been around when Jocelyn Fray had brought her daughter to the warlock, and never had she seen him so delighted. His expression had lit up the moment the child entered the room. Maybe a long time ago, when Magnus was with Camille, he wore a similar expression. Maybe even when he was with that boy, Alec, but even then the light was dim. His feelings for Clary, Tessa concluded, stemmed from more than romantic interest. There was a deeper sense of affection he held for the girl, and romanticly or not, it was undeniable that Magnus Bane cared for Clarissa on a level beyond what he felt for any other.

The last thing Tessa wanted was for Magnus to get hurt, because as different as their personalities were, he was her friend, her best friend. Maybe even her only friend, considering how her uptight characteristics left her with little social success. She had known him for a long, long time, and yet Magnus Bane was still a mystery to her. What she did know, however, was that the warlock, despite his outward appearances, craved companionship more than anything.

There wasn't much she could do for Magnus, but she would try, no matter what it took, especially if it meant giving him happiness.

Tessa picked up the phone. "Shadowhunter? This is Tessa Gray. I'm sorry to tell you this, but Clarissa Fray has been kidnapped."

. . .

By the time Magnus had got back to his apartment, it was almost five in the morning. The neighbourhood was still quiet, with seemingly none of its inhabitants out and about yet save for a single cat.

The warlock made his way up to his home, locked the door, drew the blinds and set to work. From his coat pocket, he retrieved the blade which they believed was left behind by Clary's abductor. Not too long after, the centre of his room was set up to perform a tracking spell.

Magnus let a string of incantations flow, and his hands, one still clasping the foreign blade while the other held a handful of iron shavings, began to glow a deep blue colour. Directly in front of him, on the floor, was a large map of New York. Then, he swung his arm which held the shavings in a wide arc, scattering the iron bits all across the sheet. As soon as the shavings touched the paper, they began to move, filing along in messy lines until they all reached the same point on the map. The spell was done.

Magnus bent down and inspected the area in which his magic had pointed to, and realized that it was an old building block around a dozen miles away. Well, now that wasn't so hard. He had a location, a rough guess of what type of enemy he would be facing, and a good idea of his own capabilities. What he also had, was eight hundred years of experience, and so, while he did have a high opinion of his own powers, Magnus would not be going in alone. As much as he despised the fact, he would need to wait for the other three Shadowhunters to arrive. Convincing himself that it would be fine, and that it was for Clary's sake, the warlock dropped everything and crashed onto his bed. It wasn't as if he could do anything about, and Magnus Bane wasn't anyone if he couldn't keep his head during critical times. Worrying about the issue would solve nothing, and he relished the opportunity of getting some rest.

After all, it was an eight hour flight from France. He had time.