Hi! Wow, two chapters uploaded tonight... I need to get a social life. Anyway, I appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to read my story! Thank you so much, and feel free to comment or critique! (But please, no flames)

Disclaimer: How many times do I have to say it? I only own Arella; she is a product of my mind. Everything else is owned and controlled by Cassandra Clare.

Chapter 4

Magnus awoke the next morning, unable to remember when exactly he had fallen asleep. His hair was disheveled, falling in front of his face and sticking to his face, which was still wet with tears. A quick glance around the room brought his loss into fresh relief, and he had to bite his lip to stop fresh sobs from escaping him. There were voices echoing from the living room, and Magnus couldn't ignore the gnawing hunger grinding at his stomach for much longer. With considerable effort, the warlock pulled himself out of bed, not bothering to look in the mirror as he passed and opening the door. Jace, Clary and Isabelle were all seated in the living room, arguing about something on the news. A floorboard creaked, and all three of them looked around.

"Magnus. Hi." Isabelle said, looking a bit apprehensive. He ignored her, slouching over to the refrigerator and pulling it open.

"Look, Isabelle, we have to deal with this." Jace said, diverting the attention back onto himself. "If it was her, I think it's an issue." Clary rolled her eyes.

"Jace, come on! I would rather have her robbing the local blood bank than killing people around the city! She's not breaking any Clave laws-"

"We don't even know if it was her." Isabelle said exasperatedly, leaning back against the couch. Magnus cracked open a soda, wishing that it was alcoholic, and made an attempt to join the conversation.

"What happened?" he asked, wincing internally as his voice cracked awfully.

"There was a robbery at the blood bank in Manhattan. And we think it was Arella." Jace explained, looking at Magus. The warlock made a noise of ascension, staring down at the soda and watching as the bubbles flicked against the aluminum can. Clary stood up, marching into the hall and knocking on Arella's door before Jace could stop her.

"Arella? Are y-"

"I did it. End of discussion." Arella shouted from inside, and Clary blinked. Jace smirked at her and Isabelle frowned.

"Can I come in?" Clary asked. There was a rustling sound from the room, and a moment later the door opened. Arella peered out, her eyes as red as her lips.

"I'm coming out now." She said, closing the door behind her with her foot. She looked… Different. Her hair looked darker, her eyes were crimson and flashing, and there was a blood bag clutched in her hand. "Sorry you have to see me like this." She said, lifting the bag to her lips and quickly draining half of it. "I haven't fed in decades…" she looked a bit sheepish as she wiped some blood from her lips. Isabelle was staring at her, eyes wide, and Jace just looked defensive and slightly grossed out. Arella's eyes fell on Magnus, and a look of sympathy overcame her.

"You're drinking soda?" she said, walking to the cabinet and grabbing a glass. Magnus looked up at her, blinking slowly as she slammed the wine glass down on the table and went to her room, returning a moment later with an ornate black glass bottle. "Are you a warlock or not?" she muttered, giving him a pat on the shoulder and splashing some blood into the glass.

"What are you doing?" Jace asked, standing up and moving towards her. Arella looked up at him, uncorking the bottle with her teeth and pouring the deep caramel liquid in, swirling it with the blood.

"Making the poor boy a drink. It helped me a shit-ton." She said, sliding the glass in front of Magnus. The warlock examined it, and then looked at her, utterly confused.

"How… How did you know?" he asked, gaze flickering from the drink to Arella and back again. She shrugged, pouring herself a glass of blood with a splash of the strong-smelling liquor.

"It's a classic drink." She said, with a shrug, draining her own glass and standing up, stretching out her wings, which had turned almost totally black, with just a few flecks of deep grey at the tips."Not like I've never had one before, Bane." She turned and strode back to her room, still swigging from the blood bag as she went. Clary looked to Jace.

"Well, that was…"

"Weird." Isabelle finished for her. Magnus nodded, not quite sure of what to make of the whole occurrence. Something was flashing at the back of his mind, something he didn't care to remember, especially not now. Instead he bit his lip, tipping the rest of his drink down his throat, sighing as it burned, erasing a small fraction of the pain he felt in his heart. He groaned, exiting the kitchen and making his way back to his room. The drink had helped, yes, but it had also confused him. How could he even be thinking about anyone else at a time like this? Frustrated, he slammed the door behind him, dropping onto his bed and resting the glass on his bedside table. Resting his head in his hands he sighed, trying to force the old memories that Arella's behavior had stirred up back into the vaults of his mind. Her eyes; he knew eyes like that, gazing at him though the gloom of the dark bedroom, half lidded, inches from his own.

"She's gone. She's gone and she isn't coming back. What about Alec?" he said aloud to himself, not realizing that he was digging his nails into his arm, leaving red crescent marks in his skin. He felt so terribly guilty; not even Blood Rum could suppress the awful weight on his heart. He half wished it would stop, that he was human and that he hadn't been around for eight hundred years, but he wasn't and he had. Feeling weak with emotion he lay down, closing his eyes, feeling the pain in his chest well into a sob that escaped him.

Arella leaned against the wall, looking at the Styrofoam ice box that contained her blood supply. She had enough to last her a while; probably until this little episode was over and even after that. Plenty for some more Blood Rum for Magnus… Magnus. Arella gave a little shiver as she let her mind wander, back two hundred and fifty years, to the time when she and Magnus had met. It had been at a club, too early in the morning to bother sleeping. She had met up with a group of fellow Succubi, and the girls had persuaded her to go to a nearby joint with them, to which she agreed. There, the group had quickly dispersed, each of the girls dragging a different boy off to one of the many back rooms. But Arella had remained, moping by the bar, nursing a drink that she knew would have no effect on her. And that's when Magnus had showed up, his hair a bit less teased and his face a bit less made up than she had seen in the past few days. He had promptly sat down at the bar next to her, ordered a drink, and attempted to strike up a conversation. But Arella had been preoccupied, worried about Raziel and how long she would be able to stay in town until he found her again. But the warlock was just as persistent back then as he was now, and he didn't let up until she talked to him. And talk they did, until she managed to drag him onto the dance floor after a few more drinks on his part. The rest of the night had passed as a blur, flashing lights and the feeling of Magnus dancing against her, but he offered her a place to stay and she accepted. And that was how it started; three years later she was still with him, although she had long since graduated from sleeping on the couch with Chairman Meow purring contentedly next to her. But one night, she had awakened, every inch of her screaming to run, and she knew that Raziel had found her again. She remembered, vividly, kissing Magnus once more as he slept, chest tight and tears streaming down her face as she ran, leaving most of her things behind. She hadn't fed in over a year and a half and she collapsed, in an alleyway, praying that her death would be quick. But as she cried to Heaven, Michael heard her. And she would never forget his smile when she told him who she was, how he gave her his own blood to save her life and how he hid her for the next sixty years. It was thanks to him that she was now more an Angel than a demon, that she no longer needed blood as often. He had saved her life, and since then she had been like family to him. But nothing had ever erased the emptiness she felt when she thought of Magnus, even without the demonic blood that had fallen in love with him in the first place.

"Screw it." She said, shaking her head and grabbing another blood bag, piercing it with her fangs and sucking down the coppery liquid inside. Part of her felt utterly sickened, her heart heavy as she heard Magnus cry out again, his anguish stabbing her like an ice cold knife. She growled, opening the window and spreading her wings. Who cared what Jace had said; she needed to fly. To find those hawks she had seen circling over the mountains and join them. Draining the bag, she clambered onto the sill and pushed up into the air, her ebony wings carrying her into the sky. She knew Jace and the others saw her, but she couldn't care with the wind whistling in her ears, caressing her cheeks and sending a warm spark through her entire body. The hawks remained, wheeling through the air, and she shot towards them, effortlessly joining their ranks. Animals had always been fond of her, especially cats and hawks. She suspected that the hawks respected her both as a hunter and an Angel, and that cats could sense her demonic blood; felines always did seem to have affinity for warlocks and the like. Honestly, she was a bit disappointed that Magnus hadn't brought the famed Chairman Meow with him; surely the cat would have remembered her even if the warlock didn't. The demon curled in her chest purred at the thought of Magnus, wishing that he could see her flying, wishing that he would recognize her and kiss her like he used to. But Arella had enough common sense to know that it was impossible. Magnus was too wounded over Alec, that idiot who left without knowing what he had. Reaching out with her mind, she found Alec, still in Idris, sleeping in a strange house, on someone else's couch. At least he was safe and, from what she could feel from this distance, not hurting as much as he had been. Regardless of how much he had hurt Magnus, she understood how it felt to leave the one you cared for all too well. One of the hawks shrieked, drawing Arella out of her thoughts and back into reality. The bird was gliding next to her, its golden eyes fixed intelligently on her own crimson irises. She chirruped, and the bird banked to the side, Arella following close behind. She loved flying; she could see everything if she flew high enough, her eyesight rivaled even these birds of prey. She flew until the sun began to set, and even then she didn't return to the Institute, preferring to spend the night in one of the many large trees, watching as the stars turned overhead. With so much blood in her system she had the energy to stay awake for days if she had to. But soon the others would insist on preparing for the Nightclub, getting ready to capture the Angel-Killer, Sebastian, and she would have to more controlled by that point. A meteor shot by, and Arella closed her eyes, trying to wish something that wasn't totally selfish. But she failed. All she wanted was Magnus, and that was all she could wish for.

"I had him first." She mumbled, trying to rationalize her childish feelings. But she knew it was stupid to wish such things; the Angel only knew if they would come to pass. Closing her eyes, she ignored the shouts from the Institute as Isabelle discovered her room empty as well. But she would return in the morning, after she had a chance to calm down and sleep under the stars. Content, Arella wrapped her black wings around herself, settling down and allowing sleep to carry her off.

She stood in a polished room, floor made of marble and stone she could not name. All around her, people danced, couples held lovingly in one another's arms. She turned, intent on finding the exit, but instead she found Magnus' emerald eyes just inches away, his smirking lips pressed to her cheek.

"Nice of you to finally join me." He purred, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. Arella sighed, smiling and leaning into him.

"Sorry it took so long, love." she replied, gripping the collar of his white shirt and pulling him forward. Their lips met, and it was even better than she remembered. Magnus brought her closer, fingers slipping under the straps of her burgundy cocktail gown.

"Well worth the wait." He said with a smile, starting to revolve slowly on the spot in time with the music. Arella closed her eyes, savoring how warm his arms felt around her, how his heart still beat faster every time she passed a hand over his cheek. "Arella?" she looked up. Something was wrong. The dance hall had vanished; everything had gone dark except for Magnus' form. As he smiled at her, a shape appeared behind him. She knew those eyes, the flowing black hair and fanged grin.

"No…" she said, reaching out to him, but it was too late.

"I love you." He said as the Queen of Hell sank her fangs into his neck.