Author's Note: Okay, instead of writing "Terrible Things," like I should be, I'm writing this. Honestly, it's not my fault. I heard Mayday Parade was coming to Iowa with All Time Low, and I want to go so badly! So, I looked up a couple ATL songs. See? It's not my fault ATL wrote a freaking perfect song for these two…

Disclaimer: I do not own "Painting Flowers" by All Time Low or anything from The Mortal Instruments Series.

"…Strange maze, what is this place?
I hear voices over my shoulder,
Nothing's making sense at all…"

-"Painting Flowers," All Time Low.

Alec Lightwood stood at the street light as he waited for a 'WALK' sign. The rain was coming down softly, and he jumped back as a taxi turned a corner sharply, splashing rainwater at him. He looked down at his faded sweater and baggy black jeans; not a drop of water had hit him. Sometimes, Shadowhunter reflexes came in handy, aside from fighting demons.

He shook his head as he rushed across the street, city traffic be damned. He was already late. Magnus wouldn't care; the warlock understood that demon-hunting came first. But Alec couldn't help feeling bad. Lately, the couple hadn't seen each other very often, yet they lived in the same loft.

Alec reached the door of his building as the rain picked up. He fumbled to grip the slippery handle and jerked the door open; its rusty hinges creaked in protest. He pounded up the stairs, steps echoing in the empty building. When he reached his door, he thrust his hand into his pocket, searching for his key. Where was the damn thing, anyway? Then he remembered: he'd left it on the counter after Jace had called about some ravener demons on Broadway.

"Magnus," the dark-haired boy called as he knocked on the door softly. "Magnus? It's Alec. I forgot my key. Would you let me in?"

Alec waited for a moment, listening. Footsteps treaded softly from the other side of the door. Funny, usually, Magnus would just zap the door open. Alec shook his head as the door swung open.

"Sorry, I completely forgot to grab them after Jace called. Thanks for—" He broke off as his eyes widened, taking in the person before him.

Long legs. Long, dark hair. Short, tight black dress. Pale skin. Fangs.

Camille.

"Alexander," she purred, reaching out with her vampire speed and catching his collar, yanking him through the doorway.

Magnus Bane shook his head as he walked towards the door of the vampire's lair. What did those vampires think he was? Even he couldn't bring someone back from the dead. It was nearly impossible. He had one hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door and zap himself home, when a voice called from behind him.

"Bane! Wait!"

He turned to see a sandy-haired fledgling running toward him. His light curls were bouncing slightly as he slowed to a normal pace. "Wait!"

Magnus raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow as the vampire approached him. "Yes?"

The vampire looked up at the warlock, who was at least six inches taller than he. He swallowed nervously. "Um…Mr. Bane, we—we know Camille is back and, and we thought you might want to know that, since you guys dated and all, that we saw her over by your loft and stuff. Just so you know…"

Camille was near his loft? Interesting, but surely it was nothing. Magnus had made is intentions about Alec clear to her already. Camille had more class than to continue to pursue an already attached man. Magnus knew that much.

Magnus looked at the vampire curiously, but said nothing as he zapped himself home to his and Alec's shared loft.

He gasped as he took in his home. Chairs and tables were over-turned. Photographs lay on the floor in their broken picture frames. The couch cushions had been thrown to the floor and torn at the corners. Blood stains littered the hardwood flooring.

Someone had been here. Someone—where was Alec? He should have been home by now. "Alec?" The warlock's brow furrowed when no reply came. "Alexander?" He made his way into his bedroom. "Alexander, are you alright, darling?" The bedroom was completely intact. Not a pillow was over-turned; not a piece of dust to be seen.

A note sat on the bed.

Magnus.

I trust you've seen the remnants of your Shadowhunter's fight. Pity, he was only that, a Shadowhunter. Had he been more, he may have been able to defeat me. Now, darling, I know you'd die to get him back, unharmed and whole. Fortunately for you, I only want one thing: for you to step down. Give the title of High Warlock of Brooklyn to another. Step down, love, and you may have your little Shadowhunter back, though why you would want him back remains to be seen.

Eternally yours,

Camille.

Author's Note: Alright, so this wasn't supposed to happen, but I think I like where this is going. Sorry to anyone who wants an update on "Terrible Things," one should be up soon enough. :D

Peace, Love, Mark, and Iggy.

Kierstin.