Hello!
Thought I'd go on another adventure. It's an often-used trope, but it's a classic! Anyone care to join me? :)
As always, a disclaimer: I'm just borrowing these characters for a bit. They belong to their respective owner, and no profit is being made. Any mistakes are all mine (alas, just me, self-editing), as well as the antagonists in the story.
Other than that, please enjoy and happy reading!
Wishing you a safe, healthy, and happy holiday season,
Kaye
(Dec 2016)
(***)
A Bedtime Prayer
Chapter 1: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
(***)
"Jace, the door!"
The words had barely left Alec's mouth before a resounding gunshot sliced through the air of the decrepit church, its echo leaving a high-pitched squeal in his ears. He felt something whiz by his cheek, and unconsciously, he dodged it. His legs stumbled against the front pew, but thanks to his enhanced reflexes, he regained his equilibrium quickly.
Stupid mundanes, and their stupid weapons. They really had no idea what they were dealing with, did they?
The distinct smell of sulphur, and the sound of frantic shuffling suddenly reminded him of the business at hand. Moving quickly – too quickly for those simple human eyes to track – he charged the shooter, grabbed the gun, and with a smooth pivot step, elbowed his attacker in the head. The man went down with a grunt.
Alec glanced around the room. The split second assessment was enough for his mind to process the scene. The remaining mundanes had scattered in a frenzied panic, their shouts and fumbling around the pews evidence enough for him that they'd abandoned the misguided ritual. How they'd managed to learn about the Shadow World, and how they'd gained the ability to see beyond their realm were questions he would have answered later – hopefully if Jace had prevented their leader's retreat. It was enough that their main mission objective had been achieved: they'd stopped the summoning.
The crack of a whip drew his attention to Isabelle's corner. She was struggling to contain the retreating figures as well, the mandate they were under to not kill humans likely making it difficult. This wasn't one of their usual search-and-destroy gigs. He rushed over to join her, trusting Jace and Clary to handle the escape route.
With blade in hand, he fell easily into position beside his sister. Their years of training together were apparent in the efficiency with which they took town their opponents. Minutes later, five unconscious forms were sprawled on the ground around them. Alec drew in a triumphant breath. The mundanes were mostly alive, he surmised, and he'd barely broken a sweat. He was rather proud of the way their little group had finally gelled into a well-functioning unit – homicidal megalomaniacs and parabatai kidnappings aside.
"Sorry, Alec. He got away." Jace approached with an angry set to his expression.
Clary followed up close behind him. "We were sidetracked by a couple of other crazies."
Alec's mouth tightened into a grim line. So much for the answers he'd wanted. "That's alright. We stopped the ritual before they did anything too dangerous. That's the most important thing." A single mundane shouldn't pose too much of a threat, not after tonight, he reasoned. And if the escapee did cause any more trouble, they could always track and stop him then.
"And we ended up with a souvenir," Isabelle pointed out as she inclined her head toward the altar at the front of the church.
All business, Alec sheathed his blade, and made his way over. The others followed, their steps muted as they skirted around the unconscious bodies.
What weak moonlight filtered in through the old stained glass windows illuminated a crudely drawn pentagram in a spotty pattern. Shakily etched lines met in a cross-section of geometric shapes, all converging toward a lifeless form in the center. A sliver of red-tinged moonlight reflected off a tell-tale sheen of iridescent scales on the body's skin.
"Warlock?"
Alec bent down beside the body, and nodded at Jace's question. He knew the action was moot, but he checked for a pulse anyways.
"Did they kill him? The humans, I mean." Clary's voice was clear and steady, but there was a hint of sadness in it. Trust the only one among them raised as a mundane to be the most empathetic.
"I don't know." He rose, his eyes catching sight of something that had been pushed to the edge of the ritual zone. He walked toward it, and picked up a heavy, leather-bound book – a very old book, by the looks of it. He haphazardly flipped through the pages, and caught a whiff of the musty, aged parchment.
"Is that a grimoire?" Izzy asked as she neared. "It looks ancient. Think it belonged to the dead warlock?"
"Maybe." He closed the book and tucked it more securely under his arm. "It's in Old English, I think. I can't understand anything in it. We'll have to get it analyzed."
Izzy arched an inquiring eyebrow. "By Magnus, you mean?"
Alec shot his sister a warning look, although there was no heat behind it. "He's an authority on this stuff," he stated plainly.
He received an amused chuckle to his comment. "Sure, big brother, we'll go with that. I'll ignore the fact that it's just another excuse to see your boyfriend."
Almost automatically, Alec responded. "He's not – "
"Speaking of, didn't you two have a date or something tonight?"
At his sister's words, realization dawned and Alec's stomach dropped. Shit, she was right. He'd completely forgotten about his date with Magnus!
His thoughts must've shown on his face because if the widening smile was any indication, Izzy's amusement deepened. "Go, Alec. We can take it from here. We'll get the body back for examination, and we can call one of the other contracted warlocks the Institute has on hand to erase these mundanes' memories."
"Thanks, Izzy," he said with relief as he started to move away. He gave Jace and Clary – who had started taking pictures of the ritual site with her phone – a quick nod good-bye before heading out of the church. He tapped into the last of his reserved speed and plotted the quickest route to the loft, all the while hoping Magnus wouldn't be too upset over their forgotten date.
(***)
They had failed. He had failed. Master would be angry.
He leaned against a building's brick façade, chest heaving as his lungs tried to take in air that only burned his dry throat. He was safe, he assumed. He couldn't hear any footsteps behind him. He could only guess those ... those things had been interested in what he'd been doing, not he himself.
But he had failed. And Master would be angry.
His hands clenched inside his jacket's pocket, and he was calmed by the sound of crinkling paper. His pulse began to slow, and his breathing relaxed.
Indeed, he had failed. Still, he would try again. And maybe, just maybe, Master would not be angry.
But first – first, he would need another warlock.
(***)
Magnus felt Alec's presence before he saw him. The Shadowhunter's aura was almost like a balm against the wards he'd placed around his loft – strong, soothing, and reassuring. And given the advanced warning, Magnus stood up from his slouched position on the couch and affected his somewhat 'put-upon' air. True, he wasn't one to be petty about a missed date – wedding crashing notwithstanding, several hundred years had taught him to choose his battles wisely – but he did rather like the guilt he could elicit from Alec, and more importantly, the concessions the younger man would make to appease said guilt.
A small, wicked grin pulled at his lips with that thought. Yes, indeed, Magnus knew the game, and he played it well.
He shrugged into the red velvet jacket he'd thrown aside earlier, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from the lapel, and crossed his arms over his chest just as the door clicked open. Seven months of dating, one month with the key to the loft, and Alec had just started to let himself into the place last week. For a Shadowhunter who took pride in his quick thinking, the younger man sure took social cues at a glacial pace. Still, Magnus supposed he should be happy with the baby steps.
"Magnus, I'm so sorry."
The apology was out of Alec's mouth before Magnus had a chance to lay on the guilt. To be honest, it took some of the wind out of his self-righteous sails, but he couldn't let this opportunity to play with the usually serious Shadowhunter go to complete waste. Letting out an audible sigh, he turned and moved to the cozily set dining table he'd conjured up earlier that night. The magic itself hadn't taken too much effort, but the time he'd spent on the details – from the perfect positioning of the candles to the color scheme of the centerpiece – well, that had been a completely different story.
"I suppose," he started resignedly as he glanced behind him, "getting a small piece of the pie is better than none at all."
He heard Alec shuffle up close – close enough for Magnus to feel his heat and smell his scent, curse the man – and stop just short. "Look, I'll make it up to you. I promise."
A corner of Magnus's mouth lifted into a suggestive smile, but he tempered it before turning around. The earnest expression on the Shadowhunter's face almost undid him. A bemused laugh bubbled beneath the surface of his aloof veneer.
Now weren't they an odd pair? An eager young man who was naïve in the ways of emotionally intimate relationships but trying so hard, and a centuries-old jaded one who behaved like an eager young man when they were together – Magnus would've written them off long ago if it hadn't been for the insane attraction he felt.
"I am taking you up on that," he finally said. "Shall we say next week? With interest, mind you."
Even with the time they had spent – and slept – together, a slight flush painted Alec's cheeks at the innuendo. "Y-yeah, okay. You got it."
And who would've thought he'd ever find the casual innocence charming? Definitely not him. "Then it's a deal. Date night, next week. Maybe we can hang out on the roof patio like we did last time. Just you and me."
Alec's features softened visibly at the memory, and Magnus was glad the other man fondly remembered the sixth month anniversary date he'd planned so meticulously. There had been no urgent missions or pressing appointments, simply the two of them enjoying each other's company. They'd had a cozy dinner at one of his favorite Italian restaurants, followed by a walk through the park, and had capped it off by lazing the night away under the autumn night sky. It had been a rather clichéd date, but as much as he hid it with his feckless attitude, Magnus was a romantic at heart, and he'd absolutely loved it.
"I'd like that." Alec smiled the half-smile that never failed to do odd things to the insides of Magnus' chest.
Giving into the compulsion, Magnus leaned in and placed a quick kiss on the other man's lips. "Good, because you're not forgetting about me again, on threat of my magic conjuring neon pieces into your very monochrome wardrobe. You know, a warlock scorned is no small matter."
"Don't do that."
Magnus tilted his head up, an air of challenge in its angle. "Then don't stand me up."
"I didn't do it on purpose." There was an honest sentiment in Alec's voice that only he could pull off. "Besides, bright colors are a work hazard."
"So are seven-inch heels, but that has never stopped Isabelle," Magnus threw back with a wink. He did enjoy baiting Alec, but sometimes, it was too easy. Thankfully, the younger man had gotten used to it by now, and took it in stride.
Alec opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to be at a loss for a comeback. "Touché," he finally said, conceding the point. Then, he straightened, as if remembering something. "Oh, speaking of work, I was wondering if you can do me a favor. I need you to take a look at this."
That was when Magnus noticed the book Alec was holding. The leather tome looked old, with crude bindings and aged parchment placing it around the middle ages, or perhaps medieval even.
"Oh, Alexander, you sure do know how to bring a warlock the most romantic gifts," he noted flatly. Yet, despite his teasing, his professional curiosity was piqued. He took the offered book, and moved to take a closer look at it on the kitchen island counter. A musty smell wafted from the pages as he flipped it open, his fingers running gently over the cover's intricately embossed ridges. "Where'd you get this? Was this why you had to leave so early this morning?"
Alec came up behind him to look over his shoulder, his nearness causing delightful shivers to run up Magnus' spine. "No, we had reports of mundanes dabbling in things they shouldn't have this morning. This, this we found by a dead warlock at one of their ritual sites. I can't read it, but I thought you might be able to."
Magnus made a contemplative sound as he browsed over the meticulously inked notes on the parchment. "I don't know whether to be insulted you think I'm that ancient, or flattered you think so highly of me. But no, this is older than me, it seems. I think I might be able to decipher some of it though with a little research. It's definitely a warlock's spell book. I recognize some of the diagrams. You said the warlock is dead?" He cast a quick look at the handsome profile of his Shadowhunter. Time had worn away the younger man's shyness, and Magnus reveled at the ease with which they now interacted.
Alec nodded. "Izzy brought his body back to the Institute for an autopsy."
"Hmm, I wonder if I know him. Whoever he was, he was old, which meant he was likely pretty powerful."
"Well, you're welcomed to take a look. I don't think Izzy would mind."
"I might take you up on that offer. It sounds like something a high warlock should be on top of. Though, you might also want to keep an eye on the humans. Taking down a strong warlock warrants extra caution." Although his presence at the Institute still elicited some censure from a few parties – mainly because of his relationship with a certain Lightwood, he assumed – he was tolerated on a professional level. "And this is–" Magnus paused in his perusal, his hand stilling.
Alec leaned in. "What?"
"A few pages were ripped out." He traced the jagged pages, puzzled. "It may be nothing. It might've been done centuries ago, but it's something to keep in mind."
"I would agree." The younger man placed a kiss on his temple, and rested his chin on Magnus' shoulder. The warlock practically preened at the contact. Six months ago, Alec had skirted around casual touch like it was the plague, but now ... now, he seemed more comfortable in his own skin, and although still reserved in public, he was not so ready to jump out of it when things between them got hotter and heavier. Magnus preferred to think he had been the reason for the change, but realistically, he knew Alex was much stronger emotionally and mentally than anyone gave him credit for. Alec had wanted to change, and therefore, Alec had changed. Magnus had only been a guide along the way. "But we can take a closer look tomorrow. I've been up for over twenty hours. Right now, I need a shower and sleep, and not necessarily in that order."
Magnus turned, and pulled his companion in for a more thorough kiss. As always, a tantalizing heat oozed slowly from the pit of his stomach down to pool in his groin. Suddenly, his already tight pants became even tighter, and the taste of Alec on his tongue wasn't enough. He wanted more, so much more, and the way his body – erection and all – rubbed against the Shadowhunter was a clear testament to that fact. A pained groan of longing rumbled deep in Magnus' throat as his brain honed in on one singular mission: Alec. Fuck. Now.
"Want company?" he managed hoarsely when he briefly pulled away.
Alec made a sound of agreement, the glazed quality of his eyes enough to signal his pliability.
Without a second thought, and in record time, Magnus led his lover through the master bedroom and into the ensuite, a trail of discarded clothing left in their wake. By the time he had the rain shower going, Alec had just shucked off his boxers. It had taken a bit of patience on Magnus' part, but he'd finally persuaded the younger man to let go of some of those Nephilim-instilled inhibitions, at least in private. And damn, Magnus was so glad he had. Alec, at full attention, was a sight to behold. Hunger and lust clouded Magnus' thoughts as his eyes drank in that beautifully sculpted body, smooth rune-covered skin encasing solid muscle. Every part of him itched with need to touch, to feel, to possess.
Suppressing a growl, Magnus pulled the Shadowhunter into the shower, and under the warm spray. Alec came willingly, eagerly, crushing his mouth and consuming him like a man starved for days. Not that he minded. Nor did he mind when the Shadowhunter pushed him against the cool, wet tile. In fact, he liked the blatant show of aggression.
Using the hard surface for leverage, he pushed himself up, and wrapped his legs around his lover's waist. Alec held steady at the change in position as he continued to work his mouth along Magnus' jawline and down his neck. Holy Hell, the man was strong, and Magnus loved every ounce of that supernatural strength. He tilted his head back, allowing the younger man access to the most sensitive and vulnerable spots on his throat. He rocked his hips, and felts his partner's cock tease his own entryway. The mere touch of it sent a shock through his body, and he almost cried out in frustration at why Alec wasn't in him. Now. The sooner Alec came, the sooner he would too.
His vision blurred, the world around him a haze, and whether that was from his own need or the water, he didn't know. Frankly, he didn't care. As if from a distance, he heard a muted click. He absently registered Alec working open a shower gel bottle with one hand. A practical part of him wanted to point out he could easily conjure up a proper tube of lubricant, but that was immediately drowned out by the lust-filled part. Truthfully, he'd have trouble conjuring air at the moment, and he rather enjoyed it when Alec got all inventive.
Sure fingers stroked him, smoothly and deftly readying him for what was to come. A moan of anticipation rumbled deep in Magnus' throat at the ministration. How far the student had come, Magnus mused with pleasure. It wasn't that long ago when he had to show the Shadowhunter the mechanics of the whole thing, through heated blushes and stuttered exclamations and all.
"Just do it already," he ground out. His own fingers dug deep into his partner's shoulders, willing the other man to hurry things along. They could leave the foreplay for some other time. He'd waited all night for the man, and he was going to damn well get something out of this night. His own erection strained in agreement.
Alec complied. And Magnus was grateful his erstwhile lover hadn't learned the full art of seduction just yet. His breath caught as Alec filled him, stretched him, deeply, hungrily, and after taking a moment to adjust to the sensation, he started to roll his hips, feeling more complete than he ever cared to admit.
Breaths heavy, Alec's arm came up and braced them against the tile, but Magnus barely registered it in his periphery. Sight was the dullest of his senses right now. Yet, he felt as if he'd never seen clearer. All his other senses had heightened, converging in and overloading his brain: the droplets of water, dancing a steady rhythm around them, pinpricks of sensation along their skin; the clean, refreshing scent of soap, silky slick between them; and the warm, salty taste of Alec, ever so present on his tongue.
Their cadence built, as did a coiled pressure deep in Magnus' core, until the muscles beneath his touch tensed, and Alec cried out in sweet release. Magnus leaned forward and reclaimed that delicious mouth, gently massaging those lips and that tongue with his own as he himself finally climaxed. Alec held him, supported him with his steadiness, as the shudders rippled through his body, and his ejaculate slowly washed away from their abdomens.
"Thank you," Alec breathed out.
Magnus smiled. His little Shadowhunter, ever the polite one. With a soft kiss, he languidly extricated himself from the younger man. He wanted to stay here longer – forever perhaps – basking in a steamy shower with a lover he would never get enough of, but alas, life was never so simple or fanciful. In fact, if his wrinkling skin was any indication, life could be a bit of a bitch.
"We should get out before we turn into prunes," he supplied tiredly.
"Mmm-hmm." The reluctance in Alec's response mirrored Magnus' own.
He chuckled quietly. "You did say you wanted sleep. So go!" He gave those wonderfully sculpted pectorals an assertive pat. "I need to clean up here. I probably look like a raccoon with the amount of liner and mascara I had on."
"You look beautiful," Alec replied firmly.
"Thanks, darling. I appreciate the lie."
"No, I'm serious. You – "
Magnus gave the man another quick kiss and pushed him out of the shower. The lack of artifice really astonished him sometimes, and it only pulled him deeper and more fully under Alec's spell. He heard the Shadowhunter ambling about for a few minutes as he worked on scrubbing the remaining cosmetics from his face, and sighed at the contentment he felt. He could get used to this. Sweet holy hell, he could definitely get used to this. And for some reason, that very thought frightened him.
As the realization dawned on him, he froze for a few seconds. Then, almost mechanically, he turned off the water, and grabbed a towel as he made his way over to the sink. He took a fortifying breath, and swiped a hand across the steamed-up mirror. His bare face, flat hair, and glowing cat's eyes stared back. Was this what Alec saw? Him, exposed and vulnerable, as he truly was? Or did he see all the glitz and glamor instead? Would either one of those version of him be someone the Shadowhunter could actually ... love? For a man who'd walked this road countless times before, he sure felt like a novice all of a sudden.
"Don't fall, Magnus," he whispered to his fuzzy reflection in a slightly anxious tone. "Whatever you do, don't fall."
Because if he did, he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to get back up.
After taking another minute to collect himself, he straightened, infusing a confidence into his spine that he wasn't sure was completely real, and walked into the bedroom. A pair of pajama bottoms lay on the bed beside the sprawled form of one exhausted Shadowhunter. Trust Alec to use the last of his energy to take out something for him to wear, and leave himself with none to even pull up the blankets before falling asleep.
A soft snore came from the younger man as if to highlight Magnus' thought. Yes, indeed, Alec hadn't been lying when he'd said he'd needed sleep. He was dead to the world.
Feeling all warm and nurturing at the sight, Magnus gently pulled the bedcovers over the sleeping form, and ran his fingers slowly through the younger man's still damp hair. "You know, Alexander," he said quietly. "I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you."
The steady in-and-out of Alec's breathing was his only response.
Which, now that Magnus thought about it, might've been a good thing. He didn't think the younger man was quite ready to hear those words yet.
Yawning, Magnus discarded his towel, pulled on the pants that Alec had set aside, and slid into bed beside his lover. With a half-smile on his lips, he let the warmth and solid presence beside him lull him into a peaceful sleep.
(***)
Alec jolted at the familiar sound of his phone. Moving with uncharacteristic clumsiness, he stumbled, half-awake, out of bed, all in an effort to answer before it woke Magnus. If standing up a warlock on a date was like facing an angry puppy, then waking one up from his beauty sleep was akin to poking a hibernating bear.
"Stop that annoying sound before I send it into the mountains of Timbuktu," came a groggy voice from beneath the blankets.
"Sorry," Alec whispered apologetically. He stood in the middle of the room, and scratched the back of his head, trying to remember where he'd dropped his mobile last night. "I can't find my phone"
"Somewhere between here and the kitchen," Magnus mumbled before the bed covers shifted, and the warlock burrowed deeper beneath them.
Alec tried to ignore how adorable the action was and padded out of the room. True to Magnus' words, he found his phone in the hallway, a casualty of their escapade the night before that had left a trail of clothing to the bedroom. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he answered the call. "Yeah?" he sighed tiredly.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. You heading in today, or spending time with your handsome boyfriend?"
Izzy. Alec yawned. "He's not – " He stopped. He did not know why, but he didn't feel that he and Magnus were legitimately a couple yet. Sure, he enjoyed – no, he absolutely loved – their time together, from their casual dates to their intense sexual adventures, but 'boyfriend' seemed so ... so real. He knew Magnus was comfortable with that term, but he – he wasn't just yet. It was almost like labelling them gave him something tangible that was uniquely his – not the Clave's, or his parents', or his siblings', but all his – and he wasn't used to that. He brushed the thought aside, preferring to deal with it another day.
"What time is it?" he asked instead.
"Almost ten."
Alec stilled. Ten? How in the world had he slept in so late? Usually, he was up training well before seven. Images of slick skin and a warm mouth under a gentle spray of water flashed through his mind, and caused a stream of heat to trickle through his body.
Oh, yes, that.
"Sorry, I didn't realize it was so late," he said as he bent down to pick up the gear he'd tossed on the floor last night.
"I'm sure you had other things on your mind, big brother," Isabelle replied knowingly.
Alec decided to ignore her tone. "I'll be there right away."
"Don't rush on my account. I've just got some preliminary findings to share about the warlock we found last night, but nothing concrete."
"No, I'll leave in a few minutes. Talk to you then." Before Isabelle had chance to insinuate anything else, he hung up.
He headed back into the bedroom with his clothes and phone in hand, now fully awake. Not surprisingly, the lump on the bed hadn't moved. So, as quietly as he could, he dumped the dirty laundry on a chair – he would have to collect and clean it later – and dug in the closet for the spare clothes he kept at the loft. Just the whole concept of 'making himself at home', as Magnus had put it, had seemed foreign to Alec a month ago when the older man had given him a key. But now, it was beginning to sink in how convenient it was to treat the loft like a second home, especially because he was spending more down time here than at the Institute.
He dressed within a minute, and was heading into the ensuite to quickly wash up when a disembodied voice came from beneath the blankets. "Who was it?"
Alec paused. "Isabelle."
"What did she want?"
"She just had some information on the warlock we found yesterday. I'm heading in to the Institute now. I didn't mean to wake you."
The comforter shifted, and a head popped up from underneath. Tufts of hair, unaided by product, stood up in every direction as one blurry-eyed warlock stretched on the bed, arms widespread. Again, Alec tried not to be distracted by the cuteness of the tableau.
"Well, there go my plans to wrangle you into spending time with me."
A seed of guilt took root inside Alec. True, he did enjoy hanging out with Magnus – and the sex was an added bonus – but he couldn't just completely abandon his Shadowhunter duties either. So, whenever the older man suggested they spend time together, he always faced an inner dilemma.
"Sorry," he apologized for what felt like the hundredth time.
Magnus shrugged, and waved off the apology. "That's okay. Things happen."
Of course, it didn't help ease Alec's guilt when the man was likely the most understanding warlock in the world. Then, he had an idea. "Did you want to come with me? I'm sure Izzy wouldn't mind the help, and you can use the Institute's resources for that book we found."
Magnus' smile seemed to brighten the room, and if Alec wasn't mistaken, his own heart skipped a beat at the sight. "Why, Alexander, are you asking me on a work date?"
"I suppose I am."
"Then I accept!" With that, Magnus bounded out of bed as if tapping into a new source of energy.
Alec tried to not let his gaze linger too long on the bare, well-toned chest, and those neatly defined abs. He thought he did an admirable job. "Okay, but I'm leaving in five minutes, so don't take too long getting ready."
Magnus froze, and stared at him with a horrified look. "But darling, perfection takes time!"
A smile threatened to crack Alec's stern demeanor, but he turned toward the bathroom before the other man could see it. "Five minutes, Magnus. Five minutes!" he stated as he walked away.
(***)
Isabelle looked at the digital display on her tablet when a tall, familiar figure stepped into the main control room of the Institute, an impeccably dressed warlock in tow. She gave Alec a look of mock disbelief. "A few minutes, huh? It's been three hours since we hung up. I know I said no rush, but isn't this a bit extreme, big brother?"
Alec's eyes narrowed in warning, but what kind of sister would she be if she let this opportunity to tease the usually stoic sibling pass her by? She plastered on the biggest smile she could, and gave her brother's companion a wink. "Oh, hi, Magnus. Keeping Alec occupied again, I see."
A hint of devilishness sparkled in the warlock's eyes as he played along. "You have no idea how creative your bro – "
"It's not what you think," Alec cut in, tone all serious. "Magnus was getting ready."
The simple statement was supposed to be an explanation and justification all in itself, Isabelle assumed. Still, even the grumpiness in his delivery didn't sound as – as angry as it once had. At least, not since Magnus had entered his life. And Isabelle would forever be grateful to the warlock for that. "Yes, of course," she supplied, though she couldn't keep the amusement from her voice. She knew her brother was a horrible liar when it came to his relationship, so what he'd said had likely been true, but she just couldn't help herself with the teasing. Old habits died hard, as the adage went.
"So where are we at?" Alec asked, changing the topic.
Isabelle quickly pulled up some files she'd been looking at on her tablet, and handed it over. "I've been going through traffic and security footage from the area last night, and trying to identify the humans we saw. I finally got a partial image from a traffic camera of the one that got away after our fight."
"Who is he?" Alec glanced down at the picture she'd loaded on the screen.
"A man by the name of John Dorsett. I've been searching online for some background on him, but haven't gotten very far yet. All I've been able to find is that he used to be a security guard at the Museum of Natural History, and that he's a widow who lost his wife and daughter in a car accident several months ago."
"Tragic, but that shouldn't be an excuse for killing a warlock," Magnus said as he looked down at the screen in Alec's hands.
"And it doesn't explain how he knows about the Shadow World," Alec added.
Isabelle took in the two men for a second, and marveled at what a striking pair her brother and his boyfriend made. Nevertheless, even as Magnus leaned in to get a better view of the picture, she could see the stiffness in her sibling's posture. It was almost as if Alec was unconsciously avoiding any public displays of affection, even though Magnus was more than meeting him halfway. She made a mental note to talk to her brother about that. Give him a weapon, and he could wield it with the skill and precision of a gold medal Olympian, but social innuendos flew by him as fast as thoroughbreds on a racetrack.
"I have a theory." Isabelle reached for her tablet back, and swiped to the next page – an online news article she had been reading earlier. "A few months ago, a temporary exhibit opened at the museum called 'Historical Catastrophes: Journey of the Black Death'. There were artifacts from several archeological digs throughout Europe. And since our escaped mundane worked there ..."
"That may explain where this spell book came from," Magnus finished as he tapped the item in question, which had been tucked under his arm. "Nice work, my dear."
"Yes, great work, Izzy." Alec handed the table back. "It's a good start."
"And it gives me a direction to go in for our mysterious warlock." Magnus turned to her, the white light of the room reflecting off the pearlescent sheen of his cosmetic glitter. "I'm assuming he's currently in your morgue? I was hoping to take a look. Perhaps provide some insight on his identity, or cause of death."
Isabelle nodded. Having her brother in a relationship with a powerful warlock definitely had some professional perks. "Yeah, of course. My morgue is your morgue. I took a look this morning, but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. You might have better luck. Want me to come with?"
Magnus waved a dismissive hand with his usual flourish. "Not to worry, my dear. I know my way around. I would think that your help is more needed in tracking down those humans."
Despite the fact that he likely had seen and experienced countless more supernatural mysteries than all the people in the room combined, Magnus still waited for Alec's approval on the proposed action, and in that silent way that lovers communicated, he got it. Isabelle watched the subtle interchange with interest, and a little bit of envy.
"If you're sure," she said.
"Yes, I can amuse myself with the spell book, and a dead warlock." Magnus turned and started his way out of the room at a leisurely pace. But before he was out of sight entirely, Isabelle caught the departing glance the man threw at her brother, and her heart clenched for him. There was such adoration and warmth in that glance that she could only dream of someone looking at her in the same way. And Alec – well, Alec, much to her exasperation, seemed completely oblivious to it all.
(***)
The onslaught of power that surged through him was indescribable. His eyes opened in wonder, and his lips pulled back into an amazed, teeth-baring grin. Fuck, this – this was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Master. It had to be Master. It was all his doing.
The sheets of old paper fluttered in his hands, confirming his conclusion.
'Is everything ready, John?'
He looked at the others, standing in a circle around him. Believers, all of them, like him.
"Yes. Yes, Master."
'Good. Because they are coming.'
He didn't question who 'they' were. He knew: those creatures from last night. But they would be too late this time.
"What about a warlock?"
There was a pause, but Master answered.
'He will be here.'
He let out a relieved breath. It was almost over.
(***)
"Magnus?"
At the sound of his name, Magnus looked up from the grimoire he'd been studying, and smiled in welcome when he saw Alec stride purposefully into the Institute's archives room. The Shadowhunter's presence never failed to uplift his mood and make him a bit bubbly inside. Oh, how he'd forgotten these first blissful phases of courtship.
"Alexander," he greeted evenly, betraying none of his innermost thoughts. "Done for the day? I was thinking we could grab some dinner on the way home, if you were."
A familiar crease formed on the younger man's forehead as regret overtook his features. Magnus knew the answer before Alec said anything. "Sorry, I can't right now. We managed to tap into a CCTV feed that pinpointed our rogue mundane from last night. Seems like he's hiding in an old cannery by the East River. We're gearing up to head out, but I just wanted to let you know first."
A few centuries of living had taught Magnus the meaning of patience, and although he didn't like playing second fiddle to a job – and to a Shadowhunter's job at that – he accepted it. At least, for Alec, he would. Taking quick note of how empty the room was, he allowed himself the luxury of putting his arms around the younger man, and pulling him in for a chaste kiss on the lips. He knew Alec would've been uncomfortable with the affectionate display had other Shadowhunters been around – and he respected that – so he relished the contact even more, especially in one of the Nephilim's inner sanctums.
"Okay, I'll see you tonight then, back at the loft?"
Alec made a sound of agreement, and leaned forward to touch their foreheads together, seemingly enjoying their private moment as much as Magnus was. "Thanks for being so understanding. I owe you."
"You owe me a lot, darling. And make no mistake, I will collect."
A low chuckle rumbled deep in Alec's throat as a response. "You going to stick around here, or head home?"
Magnus pulled away reluctantly, and flipped through a few pages of the spell book he'd been immersed in the last hour. "I might spend just a few more minutes here. I couldn't learn anything from the warlock's body, but I did discover that the spells in this book are dark. As in, the very depths of Hell dark, and the resources here are extensive enough to help with my investigation. One thing I must say is that you Nephilim do keep a good database of us Downworlders."
Alec stared at him for a few heartbeats, expression unreadable. And then, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping me out."
Magnus affected his quizzical look, knowing what the other man was implying, but choosing to brush it off. "What? No, I'm doing this because it's part of my job as high warlock."
Those piercing eyes easily saw through him, much to Magnus' delight. "Well, thank you, nonetheless."
"You're welcome, but don't let it get around. I have a reputation to maintain," he returned. "Now, off with you. Go catch the bad human, and I'll see you back at the loft afterwards."
After a quick goodbye, Magnus sat back down to reapply himself to his task. He did feel lighter now though, as if the short visit from his lover had given purpose to what he was doing. And as his mind soaked in that fact, a thread of trepidation formed in his gut. It was dangerous, he realized, to place so much of his trust and future happiness in one person. He had done it before, only to have everything crumble down around him. And yet – yet, here he was, doing it again, like an idiot who never learned his lesson.
"One insane idiot," he muttered to himself as he flipped a page, and glanced over the medieval reference book he'd found. His attention was half on the mystery in front of him while the other half still lingered on the irresistibly sexy smile of one tall, dark, and handsome Shadowhunter.
"Who am I kidding?" he asked rhetorically. There was no way he could concentrate now. Alec had pretty much destroyed that with his visit. With a resigned sigh, he closed the grimoire, and leaned back in his chair. He eyed the reference book for a minute, and debated whether to just snap it back to its shelf with magic, or do it the old-fashioned way. If there was one thing Shadowhunters valued above the Law, it was order. Everything had its place, even a little obscure reference book buried deep in their archives.
Deciding to call it a day – and a rather unproductive one at that – he stood and grabbed the borrowed book, intent on returning it to its proper spot. He glanced down at the catalogue number, and froze. He didn't know why exactly, but there was an odd sense of déjà vu that passed through him.
There was something he was forgetting, something he'd seen but something he'd missed. Yet ... yet, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Then, it occurred to him. Struck with new insight, he put the book down, and headed back toward the Institute's morgue. He'd examined the dead warlock earlier, and hadn't uncovered anything that Isabelle hadn't already noted. Even on the magic front, he'd found nothing. The body had simply been devoid of any residual energy, but that wasn't out of the ordinary if the warlock had been dead for a while. Still ...
He entered the empty morgue in a rush, and headed straight for the body on the metal examining table. Thankfully, the corpse hadn't been put away yet. Eager to confirm his suspicions, he gently grabbed the dead warlock's left wrist, and turned the arm for a better view of the inner skin.
There.
It was easy to miss because of the iridescent scales, and the subtle flower tattoo inked over it, but when he peered closely, he could definitely make out a defined set of numbers and letters.
B43483.
He'd seen this before. He'd seen this series of alpha-numeric tattoos once, complete with a triangle right below it. He'd met a survivor of the Auschwitz concentration camp back in the early 1950s who had had something eerily similar. Even he, with his love of decadence and frivolities, had sobered up enough at the time to condemn the atrocities he'd heard of during that gruesome war. He had thought that Downworlders were bad. It was nothing compared to the depths of cruelty that humans were capable of inflicting on each other.
But why would a warlock have such a tattoo? Any creature with a little power would've done anything to avoid the possibility of imprisonment in a concentration camp. Unless ... unless said creature was too young to have developed powers to defend himself. He didn't even want to consider what those Nazi SS officers might've done to the poor soul when they'd seen his warlock mark.
This whole time, he'd been working under the assumption that the dead warlock was centuries old, when in fact, he hadn't been. And that meant the grimoire didn't belong to him either.
With a purpose in mind, Magnus left the morgue, and headed back to the Ops center. He passed several Shadowhunters along the way, but his relationship with Alec had given him enough leeway to move about the Institute freely. When he arrived at the control room, he found an empty console, and accessed the Downworlder database he'd been browsing earlier. His search hadn't been successful before, but he'd had the wrong parameters. Now, removing the dead warlock from the equation ...
He tapped his foot as he waited for the results to return. And when they did, his gaze locked onto one name in particular, one name he'd only heard of in whispers of condemnation. A cold sense of dread clawed up his belly and into his throat.
Shit!
Moving as quickly as he could, he logged off the console, and ran out of the room. As he sped through the corridors, he pulled his phone out, and tapped Alec's number, but got no answer. He cursed. Various Shadowhunters turned to watch his abrupt departure, but he didn't have time to catch them up on his discovery.
He had to get to Alec. He had to get to Alec now!
(***)
"So, do crazy bad guys get a discounted rate on abandoned old buildings?" Jace asked in a loud whisper as they approached the darkened structure. "Because it's always where we end up when we fight them. For once, I'd like to sneak into a five-star hotel, or a Michelin-ranked restaurant."
Alec didn't bother responding. It was a stupid question to begin with, and Jace likely wasn't expecting an answer anyways. However, he did agree with the old building sentiment. The boarded up cannery had certainly seen better days: the humid, dockside air had done a number on the rusted metal doors, and the dingy paint barely masked the structural frame that was starting to sag. The lingering scent of rotting fish fought valiantly against the pervasive odor of the river. Alec just hoped they could get in and out of there before they all gagged to death on the smell, or before the whole thing fell down on their heads.
"You guys know the plan?" he asked instead.
"Yeah, same as always, right?" Isabelle slid her whip into her hands, eyes focused and expression serious.
Clary activated her blade, and nodded in confirmation. "We flank, and Alec is covering from above," she said lowly, more to remind herself of the usual plan than to inform the company at large.
Alec silently signaled their advance, and slung his bow across his body as he looked for the best roof access point. The team scattered, and he let the calm of battle settle over him. He'd trained for this, been born for it, and yet, even as these missions became routine for him, there was always this heady mix of anxiousness and anticipation that made his heart rate speed up and his stomach flutter. Strangely enough, that pre-battle feeling had become a little more pronounced since he'd started his relationship with Magnus. Because, as much as he tried to deny it, he had someone to return to, someone who cared for him waiting for him, at the end of the night. And that thought sometimes froze the breath in his lungs, and tapped an unknown pool of fear in his chest.
Nevertheless, there was a job to complete tonight. Alec tempered his errant feelings, and easily leapt onto the roof with the help of his rune. He lightly padded his way toward the ventilation skylight in the middle of the structure, his enhanced vision locating the latched panel. Working quickly, he managed to pry open the window and slip in without a sound. He unslung his bow the moment his feet touched the service catwalk, but he'd barely had a chance to orient his position before he heard a loud shout echo from below, and was blinded by an encompassing burst of white light.
Instantly, he moved. An arrow was nocked before he even looked over the rail at the scene below. It was chaos down there. His aim shifted from the scattering mundanes to Jace, Izzy, and Clary trying to coral the mass. Damn it, his arrows wouldn't make a lick of difference with the situation the way it was.
Then, the overwhelming scent of sulphur and an ear-splitting roar assaulted his senses. He looked over to where the earlier column of light had come from – now just a shimmering portal – and froze. No matter how many times he had been in the presence of a greater demon, or how long he'd trained to fight them, he always experienced that debilitating sliver of fear that snuck its way through his blood.
He shook off his paralysis, and re-assessed quickly. "Jace!" he shouted as he prepared the jump down into the fray. He didn't need any more words for his parabatai to know his exact course of action. A greater demon would always take precedence over mundanes, and one quick glance between them was enough for Alec to pull Jace away from the fleeing humans.
They approached from opposite sites, a two-pronged attack that had Alec loosing his arrow before activating his blade the same time Jace engaged their horned opponent. The demon was large, towering over Alec by over half his body's height, but the size difference worked to his advantage. He moved much more swiftly, ducking and rolling over his left shoulder to avoid the swipe of a dangerous looking claw. He rose gracefully onto his feet, and blocked a back-swipe from the same claw just as he noticed Jace's weapon connecting on the other side. They both continued the fight, falling into a well-concerted rhythm of attack and withdrawal, until he saw an opening. Tightening the grip on his weapon, he lunged. As if reading his mind, Jace mirrored his movement. They both plunged their blades into the demon's heart at the same time, the beast's flesh smoothly giving way to their finely honed edges. The cry that accompanied the death strike was almost enough to make Alec cover his ears, but it was the sudden backlash of demonic energy that came from the beast that caught him off guard. The pulse was so great that before he knew it, he and Jace had been flung halfway across the factory floor. He landed heavily on his side, and barely had enough time to get his bearings before the power generated by the disintegrating demon caused his eyes to widen.
There was a shift in the air. He couldn't describe it; he simply felt it in his chest – a buildup of something explosive and destructive that crackled in all the molecules around them. And just when it felt like the metaphysical dam was about to burst, it stopped.
Nothing. Stillness. A void.
That was when he noticed the familiar blue energy signature coming from the portal by the dying demon.
"Magnus," he whispered.
"Get everyone out of here, Alec!" the warlock shouted, his attention fully focused on the task at hand. The blue light emitted from his hands brightened. "Now! I need to close this portal. But I don't know how long I can keep the energy neutralized."
Alec didn't have to be told twice. His instincts took over, and he quickly signaled for the group to retreat. What few mundanes were still around began fleeing as well, likely sensing the impending danger. He headed toward Magnus, fulling intending to leave together with the man, when Magnus shot him a warning look.
"Go," the warlock commanded in a tone Alec had rarely heard. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of that immaculately put-together face, betraying the effort he was putting into closing the portal. Still, Magnus smiled a reassuring smile. "I'll be right behind you, darling."
Alec hesitated. He knew how powerful and capable the man was, but leaving without Magnus went against every fiber of his being.
"You can't help me with this, Alexander," the other man said, as if reading his mind. He even had the audacity to throw in a wink. "You'll just be distracting me, and I need all my wits if I'm going to fix this."
Alec couldn't refute the logic. After another moment of watching Magnus concentrate on closing the portal, he nodded. "You better be right behind me," he threw back before he turned and darted out of the building.
The cool night air hit him with a sobering slap the moment he stepped outside, and now, out of range from the oppressive energy, he took a cleansing breath. He found Jace, Isabelle, and Clary on the west side of the building several feet away.
"Where's Magnus?" Clary asked as he neared.
"Inside. He's closing the portal, and should be – "
The explosion cut off his words and knocked them all off their feet. The air left Alec's lungs, and he felt the whole world tilt. When he regained his senses - after what seemed like an eternity – he pushed up onto his knees and looked on at the demolished factory, stunned.
Reality took a moment to register. For several seconds, his mind soaked in the scene with clinical detachment. And then, with growing horror, the truth of what he was witnessing began to sink in. His chest constricted. His throat closed up.
"Magnus," he choked out. He stood. Half-stumbling, half-running, he headed toward the collapsed building, just as another partially standing piece fell. Someone grabbed him from behind. Jace? He shook him off. Or he tried to.
"Alec, stop. It's not safe! There's still residual demonic energy."
The arms around him tightened.
"But Magnus... he's ..."
He tried to pull away. He couldn't. Wouldn't ... why wouldn't his legs work?
"Alec, stop! Wait!"
He fell again, giving into the added weight of his parabatai.
Fuck Jace. He had to get to ...
"MAGNUS!"
The cry that rang through the air was broken, soaked with panic and despair. And belatedly, Alec realized it was his own.
End Chapter 1
(***)
Historical Note:
There were several series of identification numbers used in the Auschwitz Concentration Camp, implemented between May 1940 and May 1945. The first series was given to male Jewish prisoners, with the last number ending at 202499. The second series went to Russian POWs, and the third to female prisoners. In 1944, when a new influx of Hungarian Jewish prisoners arrived, SS authorities started prefacing the series with a letter (e.g. 'A'), began with the number '1', and ended it at the number '20000'. Once 20000 was reached, the next series (e.g. 'B') was used, and so forth. Over 15000 men received the 'B' series tattoo, and for some reason, women received the 'A' series tattoo until 30000.
For the purpose of this story, I've taken the liberty of changing the number that Magnus finds to well outside the historically noted identification numbers. I did not want to trivialize what happened in that prison, and used a made-up the number instead. I firmly believe that the integrity of the memory of what happened at Auschwitz remain intact. Everything - every sad detail - should be remembered as it was so that we are reminded, as a human race, of what we should never, ever allow to happen again.
