A/N: Chapter 3! Thanks so much for reading. Please review more.
Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns all of these characters, the locations, the story, and a good portion of the dialogue. (Especially in the first few chapters.) I own nothing but my imagination; the universe is hers.
The room was sacred ground. A holy sanctuary that belonged solely to Magnus Bane and the occassional lover — or lovers, depending on the warlock's mood. No one stepped foot into Magnus' bedroom without a private invitation. With disappointment, Magnus realized that only one of the room's currect visitors would have recieved one from him. The blue-eyed boy, of course. Alec still held a certain fascination for him. He had such innocence. Such candidness. It didn't hurt that he was also gorgeous, in a subtle sort of way when compared to his blonde friend.
Speaking of which...
"Nice place," Jace commented as he acquainted himself on a personal level with Magnus' rainbow-colored curtains. He snooped around the room without a sense of boundaries. "Guess it pays well, being the High Warlock of Brooklyn?"
"It pays," Magnus said simply. He didn't need to add that the whole lot of them could never afford his services, if not for the fact that they'd intimidated him into it. Magnus Bane was never one to work for free. He had to finance his luxurious lifestyle somehow. Not to mention the extravagant wardrobe. "Not much of a benefit package, though. No dental." He closed his bedroom door for privacy, leaning heavily against the wooden frame. "So." He eyed the group with expectation. "What's on your devious little minds?"
"It's not them, actually," Clarissa said. "I'm the one who wanted to talk to you."
Magnus' eyes flashed to her. He had already assumed as much. "You are not one of them. Not of the Clave. But you can see the Invisible World." He decided to feign ignorance of her past, to lie whenever he deemed it necessary. Anything to avoid being wrapped up in messy Shadowhunter business.
"My mother was one of the Clave," Clarissa explained. "But she never told me. She kept it a secret. I don't know why."
"So ask her." It was too simple a solution, Magnus knew.
"I can't. She's..." Clarissa swallowed uncomfortably. "She's gone."
"And your father?" Magnus probed.
Clarissa didn't miss a beat. "He died before I was born."
Quite the calamity. Magnus let out a sharp, unhappy breath. "As Oscar Wilde once said, "To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both looks like carelessness.'"
Jace made an angry rasping sound, as if the analysis upset him. Alec stood in the same rigid pose he'd had since first arriving to the room — arms at his side, eyes staring straight ahead. He wasn't there on behalf of the girl, that much was obvious. Magnus absently wondered who he was there for then.
"I didn't lose my mother," Clarissa snapped gently. "She was taken from me. By Valentine."
"I don't know any Valentine," Magnus asserted quickly. Another lie. This one damnable. It was a hard thing to discuss — the Shadowhunter who had such evil in his heart for every Downworlder. Magnus would rather forget him altogether. The young Shadowhunters would be wise to do the same. "I'm sorry for your tragic circumstances, but I fail to see what any of this has to do with me. If you could tell me—"
"She can't tell you, because she doesn't remember," Jace interrupted, ever quick to jump to Clarissa's defense.
Magnus in his uniquely astute way took note of the ties within the group; Alec to Jace; Jace to Clary; Clary to Simon; Simon to Isabelle; Isabelle to Alec. It was a complicated circle of connection that thoroughly interested Magnus against his better, typically more blasé judgement. He had so many questions about their dynamic. What were to happen if the clear lines between them were broken or blurred? If another was added to it?
"Someone erased her memories," Jace went on. "So we went to the Silent City to see what the Brothers could pull out of her head. They got two words." His eyes intensified as he stared down the warlock, a heavenly sort of fire glowing in them. "I think you can guess what they were."
Magnus knew right away. How foolish he was all those years ago. How naive to assume that his actions would never catch up with him, bringing along a diverse and disruptive little group of teenagers to one of his wildly exclusive parties. "My signature," he breathed knowingly. "I knew it was folly when I did it." He shook his head. "An act of hubris..."
"You signed my mind?" Clarisaa was outraged.
Magnus lifted his hand lithely into the air, small sparks of golden flames coming alive at his fingertips. He began moving his fingers into delicate swirls that formed the unmistakable shape of letters. He eventually lowered his hand to reveal his own name hanging magically in the air. Magnus Bane.
Each marveled at the hanging words, as if they had never been witness to magic before. Alec was especially astounded at the sight. His blue eyes widened considerably as if he were in shock. He recovered quickly, composing himself to his former unmoving state. He shifted faintly on his feet as if the thought of magic in such close proximity distressed him. A typical response from a Shadowhunter, Magnus knew. Most of them were raised to feel disapproval over any use of magic. But Magnus couldn't erase the nagging hope that Alec would be different.
"I was proud of my work on you," Magnus told them, lifting his eyes from the fiery print of his name to the girl whose mind would bear it permanently. "So clean. So perfect. What you saw you would forget, even as you saw it. No image of pixie or goblin or long-legged beastie would remain to trouble your blameless mortal sleep. It was the way she wanted it."
Clary's eyes widened in recognition, as if she already had the answer to the very question she was about to ask. "The way who wanted it?"
It pained him to say it, but Magnus could not avoid the truth on this one. The girl deserved this much from him. He sighed once, preparing to answer. The shining letters of his name floated away to ash. "Your mother," Magnus said after a pause.
He waited for the bitter responses of three impressively angry — and mildly confused — Shadowhunters.
