Alec contemplated Camille's offer of immortality grimly. He knew with every fiber of his being that he shouldn't make deals with a vampire, especially not one as wise and cunning as the leader of the Brooklyn clan. But his desire to be with Magnus in twenty, thirty, forty years without aging overwhelmed him.
"Release me, Alexander Lightwood." She whispered softly, and there was a sudden, desperate look in her eye. Her face quickly calmed as Alec stepped forward, holding out her cuffed hands as far as she could. Alec could barely comprehend what was happening as he lifted his blade from its shoulder sheath. The angel blade gleamed as he swung it down in a high arc, shearing through the metal chain that linked her hands with a scraping hiss. Camille's eyes glistened as she looked at her wrists victoriously. Alec suddenly realized the mistake he had made, bringing the sword up again, swinging at Camille's side, but she had vanished suddenly. Alec's momentum sent him staggering to the side; he cursed himself for trusting the vampire. He looked around in stunned silence at the empty room, realizing he had lost both his chance at immortality, and a crucial part of the mission. With a frustrated cry, he slid the sword back in its sheath.
Suddenly, cool hands gripped his shoulders. He jerked, spinning around, hand flying up to his sword. Camille's long, pale fingers gripped his arm, twisting it back sharply. A shot of pain erupted through his neck, and Alec gasped, eyes widening. He could feel her breath tickling his neck, long silver-blonde hair brushing his shoulders. His free arm shot up, clawing at Camille's face frantically, but he was already weakening. The burning pressure of her fangs was nauseating, and Alec felt himself slumping against her, sliding towards the floor. Camille pulled back, dabbing at a stray tendril of scarlet blood that ran down her chin with a handkerchief.
"I suppose I owe you an apology." She sighed, watching the ashen-faced boy slide down her body and onto the floor. "I had every intention of honoring our agreement. Unfortunately, the Shadowhunters and Lilith have deprived me of nourishment for weeks." She paused, watching him through mysterious, dark eyes. "It's regrettable that you, Alexander, will have to die. Magnus Bane will not be pleased." She frowned, and for a moment looked fearful, tucking the kerchief back in a pocket of her long, flowing skirt. "And I have an eternity to spend with him after this." Camille said it mournfully, but the words pierced Alec like a thorn. An eternity with Magnus… She had stopped speaking; watching him silently, and her eyes flickered with hunger. Alec shifted away from her with any strength he could muster as she knelt over him, cradling his neck. His head fell back limply, revealing the bruised puncture marks that ran into his vein. "My apologies." She hissed. Camille slid her fangs through Alec's skin, a dull ache that caused Alec to moan. His hands came up, clinging loosely to Camille's wrists in an attempt to shake her off. Her hair flowed over his face and down his shoulders, soaking with the blood that dripped from the wound. In moments the Shadowhunter lay limp on the floor, hands sprawled out at his side. Camille withdrew, pressing two fingers to the wound, feeling the weak throb below his skin. She smiled vacantly, licking her lips, before dissolving into the shadow, leaving Alec alone in the bloodstained room.
Magnus Bane entered the in-progress luxury condominium complex with little fanfare. His feline eyes surveyed the chaos laid out in the partially completed lobby calmly; the milling Shadowhunters, Clarissa Fray stepping off an elevator looking bloody and battered, Isabelle hovering over the Daylighter. Alec wasn't here. It was the first thing he had noticed, of course. However, the thought of it had made him nervous enough to double check. Magnus rubbed a hand through his unusually flat, matted hair. Two werewolves emerged from the same elevator, looking almost as beat up as Clary. Magnus frowned, skirting through the crowd towards the shining metal door that was already sliding closed. Suddenly, Isabelle Lightwood darted out in front of him. The sight of her towing Simon around like a dog amused the warlock, but his smile was more of a grimace. She looked untidy, ragged, definitely not her usual self. Her clothes were splattered in blood, the same as every other kid who had fled the party. To Magnus' surprise, Isabelle stole the words from his mouth.
"Where's Alec?" she demanded, staring at the crowd so intently he feared they would catch fire under her gaze. The warlock shook his head, becoming more and more nervous.
"When did you last see him?" he said as calmly as possible. Isabelle turned her attention back to the warlock, looking worried.
"The tenth floor. We were… looking for Simon." She said carefully, but Magnus could immediately tell only part of what she said was true. "I'll go with you." She said, following Magnus' gaze to the elevator. Instantly, Maryse Lightwood broke from the crowd, stepping over to her daughter. Isabelle turned to her mother in frustration, snapping a few words. By the time she turned back to the warlock, Magnus had stepped into the elevator. He smirked, waving as the door slid closed. The silence in the elevator was deafening. This was the only time in his very long life he would have enjoyed elevator music. Magnus shifted nervously, slumping against the handrail along the wall. He found himself thinking quite suddenly of their vacation, and less fondly of the circumstances they had last left each other under at the party. His hand came up, twirling the tie around his throat. This isn't my best look, he thought darkly (That's the kind of thinking a fashionista warlock does when he's nervous) He pulled the tie free from his neck, draping it across his shoulder. A tangle of necklaces and talismans swung free from his open collar.
The door slid open gradually, and a blast of cool, pungent air hit him. Magnus winced as he looked down the hallway. Bodies lay sprawled across the hallway, blood soaking into the freshly placed carpets. Talto Cult by the looks of them, Magnus thought, stepping carefully across the carpet, feeling blood squelch under his brown dress shoes. Shadowhunters weren't supposed to kill humans, he noted, seeing the gaping, smoldering wounds that indicated a strike from a seraph blade. Reaching the end of the corridor, he glanced around, nerves alight, unsure where to look first. Magnus took a deep breath, closing his eyes. A prescence throbbed at the corners of his mind, something only a magical creature would notice. A faint pulse of power, the outward circle of energy made by a teleportation spell. Magnus turned, loping down the hallway towards the source, away from the corpses. One door at the end of the hall was ajar, the blood tainted footprint of a women's heel stamped into the ground. Magnus pushed the door open all the way, shoulders squaring in apprehension.
Alexander Lightwood lay flat against the floor, arms and legs sprawled around him. His face was ashen, even more so than usual, muscles slack. His dark, piercing eyes were heavily lidded. Magnus, who had been holding his breath, eyes widening in horror, sprinted to the Shadowhunter's side, kneeling next to him. And only then did he notice the two, bruised puncture wounds that oozed scarlet down his neck and onto the hard tile.
"Alexander." He gasped, frantically holding a finger to the Shadowhunter's pulse. It was still there, but faint. Magnus blew out a tense sigh of relief, breathing for the first time in a minute. He pressed the heel of one hand against Alec's forehead, feeling the icy cold touch of his skin. He brought his other hand against Alec's throat, pressing his fingers against the punctures. His mouth moved slowly, murmuring a soft incantation. His hands glowed a soft red, heat seeping from his skin onto Alec's. The warlock's brow furrowed, feeling his energy, his life force seep out from under him. He broke out into a cold sweat, nearly fumbling on the words of his chant. Magnus drew away after a moment, wiping the blood from his fingers onto his pants. He watched Alec nervously, waiting for a sign. There was only a tense silence. Then suddenly, Alec's eyelids flickered a little; long, dark eyelashes batting at the rims under his eyes. Magnus in haled sharply, sliding his arms under Alec's limp, bloody form. He staggered upright, head spinning. He stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, waiting for his vision to return from its grey haze. He was weaker than he had expected to be.
Magnus ran as fast as he could manage down the hall, no longer seeing the bodies draped across the carpet. He practically fell into the elevator, slumping until he crouched against the wall, blinking back the haze that was clouding his thoughts. He cradled Alec, the wounded boy's arms and legs dangled limply from his sides. But he would live. Magnus was sure he would live. The elevator sped off of its' own accord, signaling someone downstairs wished to come up. The floors counted down slowly. It gave Magnus an ominous feeling.
Most of the Shadowhunters had left the building since Magnus had disappeared upstairs. Isabelle watched the elevator nervously, gnawing at her lip. The panel above the elevator had begun to count down. 7…6…
"Isabelle!" her mother demanded, calling her attention back with an aggravated sigh. "The creatures you fought, the ones that served Lilith. They were human?" Maryse asked irritably, curious bystanders listening for any useful information.
"Yes mother." Isabelle said, still watching the panel from the corner of her eye. 5…4…3… "The Church of Talto." Isabelle added, sensing her mother's apparent frustration. 2…1… The elevator gave a sharp ding and Isabelle whipped around completely, squeezing through the crowd slowly. The door began to open, and Isabelle peered through the swirl of bodies, beginning to break through to the elevator. Her breath caught in her throat as the elevator opened fully.
"Alec." She squeaked, running to her brother. Maryse Lightwood, who had been watching her daughter slip away, turned suddenly pale. The crowd parted for her as she strode purposefully across the room. Isabelle hovered in front of the door, eager to hide the sight from the hungry eyes of the Shadowhunters. She stared down at her brother, a cold shiver running up her spine from fear. Alec dangled from Magnus Bane's arms. His forearms lay flat against the elevator's dusty floor, head tilted back so his untidy black hair fell away from his face. His jaw was set, eyes shut, looking vaguely pained. Maryse and Isabelle noticed, in perfect sync, the puncture wounds dotting his skin, the blood dripping down his neck, and the ashen color of his skin. Magnus's eyes met Maryse's, and his hands were shaking noticeably as they held Alec out to her. Maryse's head turned to the crowd like the snap of a whip.
"You two." She barked, gesturing to Simon and Jordan. "Bring him out to the car." Maryse watched, eyes blazing with a strange combination of fear and anger as they lifted Alec from Magnus's arms and took him back through the crowd. With one last look at her daughter, Maryse followed them. Isabelle looked at the disheveled warlock. Her mother had been thinking about Max, she could see it in her eyes. Magnus locked eyes with her.
"Help him." He murmured, and then he sank against the wall, eyes closing. Maryse had been thinking of Max, Isabelle thought again. And she's going to blame Magnus.