Keep your nose clean, stay out of trouble, and avoid Shadowhunters. These were the rules that Magnus Bane, and most other Downworlders lived by. The Shadowhunters were supposed to keep peace from demons and other evil creatures, but they instead seemed to concentrate on the persecution of Magnus' kind. First was the name-calling and the upturned noses, then came the disappearances, and finally a series of laws making it impossible for a Downworlder to survive on the right side of the law. And just who did that benefit? The ones who enforced the law and could take what they wanted from a Downworlder as righteous "spoils of war". It hadn't happened all at once, and before anyone could react, all of the Downworld was under the Shadowhunters' thumbs, ready to crush them at the slightest provocation.
Magnus had lost countless friends to the hunters. Werewolves slaughtered for failing to register with the Institute, vampires forced into daylight because they had exposed their fangs in public, and warlocks shipped away to Alicante prisons for the practice of magic.
Since the bans on the use of "demonic" magic such as the kind Magnus was gifted with, he felt restless. It was like an itch inside of him, the untapped power he bottled up. He was angry. He had once been rich, able to win a living with his magic. He had once been able to help others with his powers. He still couldn't get a memory out of his head of a mother werewolf who had begged him to heal her son. He had refused, because it was Shadowhunter inflicted harm and word would get back. The mother had been furious, heartbroken. Magnus had been ashamed and had burned with anger as well. Over time this anger only grew, boiling itself into a heavy hatred.
That's why it was understandable when Magnus answered his door with more than a little hesitation. He had heard rumours that Shadowhunters were looking for a warlock. He had hoped that it was some other warlock, but most others had gone into hiding and joined the Mundane world. Magnus refused. He was proud of who he was, even if the world hated him for it.
There were three of them darkening his doorstep, which was already dim due to the frequent power outages in his apartment complex. Before he could shut his door again, the three pushed inside. There was a tall blond who had a smug expression like he owned the place; a beautiful woman with long black hair and a wrinkled nose at the cramped and overstuffed space. Then came the third. He stepped inside hesitantly, almost as if he felt guilty about invading someone else's home. He pushed back his dark bangs and Magnus' heart jumped as he met the gaze of two electric blue eyes. Quickly, he looked away, his heart racing.
Looking a Shadowhunter in the eyes isn't a crime, he thought, yet.
The woman picked up a hundred year old scroll and examined it half-heartedly. It seemed more like a power play than genuine interest. She wanted to make him feel uncomfortable in his own home. Magnus seethed silently. There was a reason his apartment was stuffed with every magical artifact and document he could find. Shadowhunters had tried to locate and burn as many as they could get their hands on, so Magnus had spent the last of his dwindling funds on the things, trying as hard as he could to preserve magic at all costs.
He turned to the blue-eyed one. The boy seemed the least controlling of the three and Magnus thought he could use this to his advantage. It was a game of intimidation and he'd found the weakest link. He leveled a glare at the boy, who widened his eyes, surprised. The Shadowhunter opened his mouth, as if to defend himself, but it was the blond boy who spoke.
"Warlock," he said, and Magnus turned, anger coursing through him. He hated how the Shadowhunter addressed him like a dog and how he had to answer anyway. He was powerful. He could kill this boy a thousand different ways in a fraction of a second, but there'd be hell to pay.
"We've come to your…" the boy gestured around vaguely, "home..?"
He said it as a question and Magnus wondered for a moment if wiping that superior look off the boy's face was worth his own very painful retribution. He took a deep breath and shoved his emotions down.
"Anyway, we're here because we want a favour," the boy said, "and you're going to obey,"
Magnus gritted his teeth.
"Jace," the woman chastised, "you've forgotten your manners. Magnus Bane, is it?"
Magnus didn't nod but she went on anyway.
"I'm Isabelle," she gestured to the blond boy, "this is Jace, and Alec is the one hiding in the corner,"
Both Magnus and Jace turned towards where Isabelle pointed. The blue-eyed boy, Alec, pulled his sleeves over his hands, obviously uncomfortable.
"I'm not hiding," he mumbled, "I just think this is wrong,"
Magnus finally took the chance to speak, "This? Associating with a Downworlder? Right, of course, you're worried we'll turn you to our demonic ways. We'll poison your pure, innocent soul."
He approached Alec until the Shadowhunter shrank back, "We'll teach you all our creepy crawly secrets, too. What do you say, hunter? Want to join the dark side?"
Alec's eyes were wide, and Magnus had a second of regret. He was trying to intimidate the Shadowhunter. To get them all out of his house before anyone got hurt – especially himself. But the boy had the look of a kicked puppy. Magnus had to remind himself that this was a heartless killer, not the cute boy next door.
Finally, Alec pushed Magnus back, muttering something like, "…not what I meant…"
Jace, who Magnus assumed was the leader of the group looked ready to kill Magnus for his insolence, and the warlock basked in the satisfaction of having pissed off a Shadowhunter.
"Why don't we all sit down and discuss this calmly?" Isabelle proposed.
Magnus' frustration grew. This was his home, invaded by his enemies. But there was nothing he could do.
The apartment was tiny, with two doors leading to a smaller bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen was attached to the living room that they stood in now and separated by a low counter. It stood to reason that Magnus only owned two chairs. He claimed one and let the Shadowhunters drag over the other, expecting them to squabble over who got to sit in it. He was mistaken, though, as the girl promptly took it, leaving the other two to stand behind her like a pair of bodyguards. Magnus was doubtless, however, that Isabelle had no need for a bodyguard.
"We need you to summon a demon," she stated, as if she was asking him to do something as simple as making coffee.
Magnus laughed, "Haven't you heard? Magic is illegal."
Isabelle rolled her eyes, "Let's say we let you bend the rules. Would you do it?"
"No," he said plainly, "There's no safeguard to prevent you from just running back to the institute and tattling,"
"I knew you'd say that," she sighed, "We'll swear on the angel Raziel not to report the summoning. Even if we did tell, that oath would prevent it from holding up in court."
"As if you'd give me a fair trial," Magnus muttered, but he was slightly less wary. Shadowhunters may be corrupt, murderous assholes, but they took their angel seriously.
Isabelle leaned back and withdrew something from the inside of her coat while the other two looked on.
"We can't win your trust, but perhaps we can persuade you another way," she held out a shimmering locket with a ruby pendant. Magnus felt his heart go cold. There was no way that they could have known, but still seeing the thing hurt.
Amor verus numquam moritur, he mouthed bitterly. He had been young, optimistic and rich once. Still, he could have one of those qualities back if he took the bribe. It was worth more than he'd owned in years and it might be enough for him to have a new start, far, far away from the New York Institute.
"No," he told her, surprised that his voice wasn't as shaken as he felt, "I'm not going to help Shadowhunters"
He wished he could have spat at the word, but his mouth was dry, and he wasn't about to ruin his carpet wither.
"Right," said Jace, "Isabelle, your turn's over. Time for plan B,"
Two seraph blades materialized in the boy's hands. He threw one straight at Magnus, and the warlock tumbled out his chair to avoid it. He felt the regrets flood in: he should have run the second he heard they were looking for him. He should have left behind his house and his possessions and kept his life.
The blond marched over and grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up to his feet and shoving him against the wall. He heard a crash and felt a sharp pain in his hip as he hit a table and sent piles of artifacts tumbling to the ground. Before he could so much as glance over toward the damage, Jace had him pressed against the wall. He pushed on the blond's chest, but couldn't gather enough force to move him. The seraph blade was against his neck, and as he felt it dig in, he panicked.
Jace flew to the other side of the room, hitting the counter and slumping against the counter. Magnus' hands flew up to his own neck to check the damage and felt only a small trickle of blood. He felt a flood of relief until he realized what he'd done.
The blond got to his feet, a smug smile dancing on his features.
"Haven't you heard? Magic is illegal," he almost sang.