Chapter 2: Emma Woodhouse, in the Flesh
Bang bang bang.
Bang bang bang.
Pause.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
The door rattled on its hinges with each ham-fisted knock. Magnus wondered if whoever was laying siege to his apartment brought a battering ram.
"Magnus Bane!" thundered the intruder, inviting Chairman Meow to join the discord with a loud hiss. "Open up, I know you're in there!"
The warlock paused in the act of flipping through the latest issue of Pixie Parade. He knew that voice. He also knew that, like yesterday's uninvited guest, the one it belonged to wasn't here for his professional services.
"Don't test me, Magnus. I don't care if you're brooding or spell-casting or you're in the middle of a game of strip poker, I will bust down the door if you don't open it right now!"
There was no doubt in his mind that the threat was sincere.
The magazine slid from his fingers. In only a few paces Magnus was across the apartment and yanking the door open. He was not surprised to find a tall, raven-haired girl on the other side, her fist frozen mid-knock. Even out of her Shadowhunter gear she radiated the ferocity of an Amazon warrior.
"Ah. Emma Woodhouse, in the flesh," greeted Magnus. Isabelle stared back, the mundane reference lost on her, as her hand fell back to her side. "Delightful as you are, I'm afraid I'm not up for company of the Nephilim persuasion tonight. Or anytime soon, to be honest. I've had my fill of you lot to last a lifetime. Oh, and for the record," he added pleasantly, "I have a doorbell, and it works just fine, thank you."
"Don't be cute with me," she snapped, folding her arms brusquely. "I assume you know why I'm here."
"Because Clary was too subtle and you're a pro at the direct approach?" he deduced. "That was well done, by the way. Sending a friendly face to soften me up, and now you're here to lay down the law. I expect it's just as pointless to ask, but here goes: butt out. This isn't your fight."
"Not my fight?" she parroted back as if it was a personal insult. To a Shadowhunter, it probably was. "My brother's heart is broken and you're the reason why."
"Well, to be fair," said Magnus, and his voice was decidedly darker, "he did break mine first."
"So that's it? One bump in the road and you call it quits? Just like that?"
'But it was just a mistake. One mistake – '
Unwittingly the memory flooded his vision and Magnus shut his eyes, desperate to block it out, but it was useless; Alec's plea was on a constant loop in his head.
Forcing his eyes back open, Magnus refocused on present company. "No, not just like that," he told Isabelle. "And I'm not having this discussion with you."
"Fine. It's him you should talk to. Look, he's sorry, okay? You know he is. So get over your wounded pride or whatever and quit punishing him."
"I'm not trying to punish him. I'm trying to move on with my life. Believe it or not, I had one before Alec, and I'll have one after him, too."
She scoffed. "Yeah, a crappy one."
"That's a matter of opinion."
"It's not, actually. My brother makes lives better, and that's a fact."
"When he is being honest, I agree."
"Oh, for the love of – " She threw her hands up, smoke practically billowing from her ears as she swore. For the first time in eight days, Magnus grinned. "You think this is funny? You know, you're not exactly innocent in all this! Alec told me what happened, he said – "
"Isabelle," he cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose. His grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm not interested in what your brother – my ex-boyfriend – has to say."
She ignored him. "He wanted to build a life with you. Said you wanted the same. Isn't that what's important? It might not be picture perfect, but what is? Isn't it still worth holding on to?"
"You tell me."
Her nose wrinkled. "What?"
"How are things going with your latest boy toy? Sinclair? Steven?" Magnus snapped his fingers as he searched his memory. "Well, whatever his name, I'm sure you've realized by now that dating a vampire is pretty much a dead end. No pun intended."
It was a cheap shot, he knew, thrusting her own ill-fated romance into the spotlight; just as he also knew that stubbornness ran deep in Nephilim blood, and subtlety was the last thing in the world to work on Isabelle Lightwood.
"First Clary, now you," he went on, fully aware of the girl's hands fisting at her sides. "Both of you choose to focus on others' problems rather than facing your own."
Her eyes flashed in the dim doorway. "My life is none of your business."
"I'm going to let the hypocrisy slide in favor of giving you a piece of advice – and I won't even bill you for it," he said graciously. "Be careful who you give your heart to. When mortals and immortals mix… it's dangerous for both sides. Trust me."
Isabelle flinched as his words hit the mark. Regardless, he did not expect her to back down and she did not disappoint. "Don't you dare lecture me, Magnus. Just because you've lived for eons – "
"Ouch."
" – doesn't give you the right to judge my relationsh – my whatever with Simon. It's not the same." But beneath the fiery protest Magnus sensed a mind plagued with doubts – a victory that felt strangely hollow. Probably, he realized with mild alarm, because in that moment Isabelle reminded him so much of her brother – right down to the way her big bright eyes hid nothing, shining with equal parts defiance and vulnerability – that it almost physically hurt to look at her.
"It is the same," insisted Magnus, and for the first time there was compassion in his voice. "He's going to stay young and live forever and you won't. That's fact. That's the path you're on. Cruel as it may seem, you can't fight reality like you would a demon. You can't protect yourself from it any more than you can your brother, so answer your own question: Is it really worth it? Is the inevitable heartbreak worth a few fleeting moments of happiness?"
Isabelle stared at him for a long moment, her face surprisingly unreadable. He couldn't recall ever seeing her speechless before and when she finally recovered, it wasn't at all how he expected.
"That's absolute crap, Magnus."
"Excuse me?"
"I said that's crap." No longer did she look rattled. She stood taller, gazing at him with eyes as sharp as her tongue, and despite the adolescent phrasing, her voice carried the authority of someone decades older – all in all, not unlike her mother. Magnus shifted his weight against the doorframe. "All that stuff you just said – do you even buy any of it? Because I don't."
"Well, that's your prerogative."
"Don't you remember what you once said to me?" she asked abruptly. "'To love as you choose, that takes strength.' Sound familiar?"
Unfortunately, it did. He had said those exact words to her in a rare moment of shared affection for her brother… long before Magnus found out about Alec's secret extracurricular activities. Ironic, though not wholly surprising, that those words should be used against him now.
"And love without trust? Where's the strength in that?" The challenge carried none of Magnus's former humor or sympathy. "Did you think that you could just show up at my door and badger me into changing my mind? Grow up. This isn't something that can be fixed as easily as finding the solution in a spell book – something I wish Alec had thought about before he decided to sneak around with one of my exes."
"Interesting how the Camille incident suddenly feels like an afterthought," observed Isabelle. "Very interesting."
"I'm glad you're feeling enlightened."
"Oh I am," she said confidently.
"Again, kudos."
"And I think," she continued, "that although it might have been the catalyst, it's not anger driving the wedge between you and Alec anymore, it's fear. I think it's time you stop making Camille a convenient scapegoat for your breakup and take your own advice. Choose strength, Magnus."
He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Don't confuse strength with sense. There's no sense chasing a lost cause. Give it time with your vampire, you'll see that I'm right," he cautioned. "There's nothing brave or admirable about prolonging something that's doomed from the start. It's foolish and masochistic. And I am neither. Not anymore."
Isabelle looked him up and down, her inspection deliberately slow, and he knew what she was seeing. His pale face, scruffy and eyeliner-free. Wrinkled pajamas that still bore a spaghetti stain from several meals ago. Hair that hadn't seen gel or glitter or barely even a comb in days. He was the walking, talking billboard for cries for help.
Isabelle snorted distastefully. "Who's kidding who here?" Without warning she pulled away from the doorframe, disengaging altogether. "But whatever. Like you, I can recognize a lost cause, so feel free to go on spiraling. Have a good, long life, Magnus. Alone."
He smiled tightly. Her words needled him more than he cared to admit, but he certainly wasn't going to stop her from leaving. "Always a pleasure, Cher."
With a final huff Isabelle turned on the spot, her long hair flying like the golden whip she wielded in battle. Magnus made to close the door –
"Oh, and one more thing."
– only to find it blocked by an angry woman determined to have the last word.
"The answer to your question," said Isabelle tersely, "is yes. My brother is absolutely worth it. He's worth a thousand heartbreaks. And if you can't see that, then forget everything I said, forget I was even here. You don't deserve him."
And with the swiftness of her kind, her hand flew out and yanked the door shut in the warlock's stunned face.
Finally alone, Magnus let his eyes fall shut and leaned his forehead against the cold door. On the bright side, no longer was it just the ghost of his ex-boyfriend playing keep-away with his thoughts. Another Lightwood now shared that honor.
It was just as well that she fled, Magnus decided. For once, he didn't have a single retort left.
You don't deserve him.
For once, he couldn't entirely disagree with her.
A/N: So this chapter went in a very different direction than originally planned, but I think it turned out okay even if Isabelle does come off sounding overly self-righteous half the time. I think that's pretty fair to her character actually, but I'll be the first to admit that Isabelle is harder for me to get a read on than others. I don't know. Was she right or wrong here? Did she help the situation or make it worse? I have my own opinions, of course, but I'm curious to hear yours.
Also, for those who aren't in the know: Emma Woodhouse is a Jane Austen heroine famous for her oft-awry matchmaking skills. And Cher is the feature character in the movie Clueless, a modern take on the Austen novel Emma. Lastly, there are a couple lines of dialogue in this chapter paraphrased from one of my favorite movies, Ever After. See if you can spot them!
