She coughed up blood again. Every time I heard that breathless torture I flinched. I waited outside the hospital room. There was a crystal window—the window of Hell was more likely. She was pale and her thin brown hair stuck to her sweaty skin. She had shadows under her eyes and her pupils were dilated with fever, yet, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. An impassive nurse brought her some pills, as usual and she gulped them down with a glass of water—but something caught my eye. She never drank the pills! She had hidden them underneath the pillow. I stood up galvanized by her idiocy. I pushed the nurse aside as I crouched next to Isis.
"Are you crazy?" I yelled at her, tears brimming my eyes. I gripped her feeble, bony hand in my own two tan, thin ones.
She looked at me with a mix of sadness, guilt and resignation. "Why aren't you taking your pills?" I whispered.
Isis smiled sadly. "You know human medicine won't do me any better, plus all they do is make me weaker."
I sighed and brought my forehead down to her hands. Her other hand caressed my hair. "I miss your glitter," she whispered.
I smiled. "I stopped caring since you got here," I said.
She frowned. "I know, Magnus," she sighed angrily and it took a lot of energy out of her. "You've barely been home and you're always here, tired, you're not eating," she sighed again from all the talking; she was so weak. "It's not good for you. Have you even been working? You are the High Warlock of—" she began coughing again but before it turned into anything too gruesome it subsided. "Brooklyn."
A tear escaped my eye and she wiped it with her thumb, her hand trembling. "Don't cry, Magnus," she whispered, she was too weak to fully speak. "You know these sort of things—we Shadowhunters are used to early deaths."
"Yes, but quick deaths by demons! Not-not this sick, cruel, slow torture!" I yelled standing up, my anger getting the best of me.
Isis grabbed my leather jacket and shushed me, pulling me down to her. "I love you, Magnus," she whispered, her breath cold and inches from me.
"I love you too," I said and a tear fell from my eye and landed on her protuberant cheekbone.
She gave me a soft kiss on my cheek with her dry lips. A soft whimper escaped from my lips.
"Don't. Please. Or I won't be able to go on. You have to be strong for me, Magnus. There's still hope."
"But there isn't, that's the problem," I said through my teeth. "I've gone over this before, Isis."
She looked confused. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"You know I live forever, right? And that I was alive centuries ago?"
She nodded solemnly; she had always been my little trooper.
"Well, a long time ago, a long, long—"
"Magnus," she said sternly.
"Sorry," I said smiling. "Point is I knew this boy who had the same illness as you. Poison by demon blood. He was one of the worst cases, his body was addicted to the demon blood and if he didn't get it he would convulse and have coughing attacks like yours and—" My voice cracked.
"Did he live?" I heard her ask me faintly but I couldn't deal. I lay on her chest and cried. Cried and cried until my eyes were dry. All the time she just caressed my hair.
I was in a field with grass as tall as my chest. Everything looked gray and gaunt. I realized this was a dream. A leafless tree with glossy, black bark stood five feet away from me. A raven croaked on one of the dry, bleak branches. It picked flight and flew towards me. Mid-flight the bird transformed into a woman. She was very beautiful with ebony skin and light eyes. Her hair reached her feet where it pooled around her long, silky black dress.
"Magnus Bane," she said in an impassive yet sultry voice.
"That's me, the High Warlock of Broo—"
"You have a choice to make," she said interrupting me. Ouch! Wait, a choice?
"What choice?"
She smiled coldly. "The woman you love may live."
I froze. What? Isis could live? That's all I wanted in this world. "I'll do anything—"
"Relax, young warlock," she interrupted yet again.
Young? 800 years is young? Then boy she must be as old as salt, then, to consider me "young".
"For the cure you must give Isis your—" she hesitated and her light irises glimmered.
"Give her what? I'll give her anything!"
The dark-skinned woman smiled coldly and her next words chilled me to the bone. "Your immortality."
"I-I can't do that," I stammered. "It's not that I'm selfish but I can't curse her with living forever. It's worse than it seems—please, there has to be another way," I begged.
"There isn't," said the black beauty walking towards me.
She smelled like ashes and when her hand touched my cheek it felt as hot as coals and I flinched from her touch. Anger flashed on her eyes for a second but then she returned to her impassiveness.
"Such a pretty warlock," she whispered curling my hair around her finger. I froze and studied her for a moment. Her black skin was shimmery and soft. Her eyes light, the color of ashes and her long luxurious hair the color of coals. She was so ethereal she seemed to be made of these things precisely: ashes and coals.
"You have to choose," she said, impassive again. "Isis' recovery or your immortality."
Suddenly the field with the grass and the black tree turned into a whirlwind of ash. I was sucked into the tornado and landed hard on the floor. When I opened my eyes I was back at the hospital, Isis weak heartbeat underneath me.
I stood up and found her fast asleep. I caressed her hollow cheek and saw her eyelashes flutter.
"I'm so sorry, Isis," I whispered. "Please remember me. I love you."
And on that happy note I walked out of the room, out of the hospital towards my loft. I walked up the stairs and opened the door with a gloomy air. I walked to my room and when I turned around to face my bed the same ebony-skinned woman with the light eyes, long black hair and silky dress was lying on my white sheets, of course it contrasted well with her. She being all black and the bed all white and the entire room a splash of bright color.
"You! What are you doing here?"
She stared at me with her cold, impassive eyes. "I see you've made a choice.
I glared at her and threw my keys on the bedside table. "What are you? Are you a faerie? A warlock?"
"I'm a demon."
My breath caught. Of course. How could I have not seen it? "A Greater Demon?"
"No," she said impassively.
I nodded. "I see, well…"
"Have you ever been in love?" she asked impassively.
The question shocked him, especially since it came from a demon. "Y-yes, I'm in love with Isis."
She looked at me condescendingly. "Are you sure you love her?
"Yes!" I yelled exasperated. "Of course, I am! How could you ask something like that? You don't even know me! You demons think you know everything about everything—"
"If I were you I wouldn't spit on the blood that runs in your veins," she said with the same impassiveness.
"I may share your blood but I am nothing like you," I spat at her boldly. This woman was a demon, she could probably squish me like a bug if she wanted to.
"I have been watching you, Magnus Bane," she said. "I see much of myself in you. Giving away our hearts like flowers giving away their pollen to little buzzing bees who after they get what they want, fly away and never return."
I stared at her and said nothing. This was strange behavior for a demon and I doubted her claiming she wasn't a Greater one.
She stared at me. "Are you going to let Isis die? Or are you giving her your immortality?"
"I'm not doing anything," I said. "I'm just walking away."
She, for once, looked alarmed. "What do you mean you're not doing anything?"
"I can't bring myself to choose so… I'll leave it to fate," I said and my voice broke at the end, a tear falling from my right eye.
"What would Isis say?" she exclaimed. "Won't she feel betrayed?"
"No. It's what she would want."
The impassiveness in her eyes returned. "Very well, Magnus Bane," she said coldly. "I hope we meet again."
I just watched her disappear in a little cloud of ash. I sighed and plopped down on an armchair feeling incredibly exhausted. I sat there crying. I was going to miss Isis. One more love ripped away because of immortality.