Bonus chapter time!
Sorry as always for the wait, but I bring gifts to show my love for you, so you have to act polite even if you don't like it (just put it in the cupboard and regift it later)
There are two parts to this chapter, the first half takes place at the end of Clockwork Angel, and the other half takes part at the end of Clockwork Prince, after *SPOILERS* Charlotte is voted to keep the institute and Jem proposes to Tessa (following the books plot)
Please enjoy, and don't forget to review, and once again thank you to those who already have, but I want to hear from you again as well, because you're so lovely!
DISCLAIMER: I do not claim ownership over the Infernal Devices or the characters therein. They are property of Cassandra Clare and she will be president of the universe one day, so I wouldn't mess with her if I were you.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
~The Chariot, by Emily Dickenson~
"Is this the residence of the Magnus Bane?" Magnus heard someone familiar demand from the hallway beyond, knowing from the desperate sound of it who was inquiring.
.
.
.
Magnus abandoned his writings, and strained his ears so that he could enjoy Archer's subsequent spluttering from the next room. The sound amused him to no end, bringing more warmth to his chest than the dying embers of the hearth could. Camille's abandoned subjugate reeked of mutiny, held to authority by what seemed like a thread that could sever at any given moment, should an independent mood take his fancy. Archer saw Magnus as an intrusion into something much older than a vacant building, something deeper and far more personal that Magnus did not, and had no desire to, understand. As such, any implication that Magnus owned the residence had Archer's blood boiling, a fact which cheered Magnus' spirits greatly.
"This manner was of my mistresses keeping, but your barging has reduced it to some pathetic cousin of the Thames," Magnus heard Archer snarl at the late guest, "will you at least remove your coat?"
"No, where is Magnus Bane?" The guest answered in a clipped tone, and Magnus could hear the distinct shuffle of searching feet on the runner.
"Master Bane is not accepting guests this evening I am afraid, if you will leave your name with me, I will commend a message to him-"
"I am not interested in being accepted, I will see him as a larcener if I have to," came the agitated reply, and there were faint sounds of a scuffle, "get out of my way this instant."
Despite himself, Magnus admired the boy's determination. Rain was heaving itself against the high windows in abandon, the sound more like the rumbling of carriage wheels than anything else. It was true, Magnus had ordered Archer to hold all guests for the remainder of the evening, for his last business venture had left him drained and in need of overdue rest. He had hidden himself inside on of Camille's lavish sitting rooms, this one being her favourite. The complete works of Coleridge lined the walls, ranging from the oldest paperbacks that seemed to shiver and threaten to burst into a cloud of dust at the touch of the brutal English air; to the gold encrusted hard spines that gleamed in the fire's wan light, the pride of their very manufacture seeming to bleed between the flickering shadows and coat the walls about the library with their cold light. The room also seemed to encourage the aversion of Archer, and for this reason Magnus had chosen it as his primary resting place for the past few months, despite its perpetual coldness.
Under any normal circumstances, he might have been irritated by his guest's rude disregard, and even more so for Archer's snide defence of his absent mistress; but the night was wild, and the thought of seeing this particular boy after so many years filled Magnus to the brim with curiosity. When he heard the footsteps round on his door, and the muffled voices argue, he did nothing, nor did he rise when the doors flew open and two men stumbled inside. One, the taller, was soaking wet and towing the other with him, whose hand was pulling him back by the lapels of his coat. Magnus should have found the image hilarious, but was all too busy taking in all of the boy before him.
He barrelled into the room like a violent storm, but Magnus had expected nothing less from William Herondale. He was drenched, down to his very bones, and there were shining droplets of water slipping from the curls of his dark hair; it covered his face, so that all Magnus could see was a cast of sharp shadows about his eyes and cheekbones. He stopped short when he saw Magnus sitting calmly in his armchair, and righted himself hastily. As the light hit his features, Magnus could see the bizarre blue of his eyes peeking out from under that mess of hair, and he had to suppress a gasp for how potently they still struck him.
Magnus remembered the first time he had seen those eyes, hidden in a pocket of shadow outside the sitting room door, as Charlotte Branwell had spoken to him about a young boy, who was dying. William's face had been caught between conflicted feelings of fear and wonder, as he and Magnus had observed one another in secret across the room. He had been such a beautiful boy, but even then there had been traces of something strange underneath it all, something that made even Magnus' senses, dulled by hundreds of years, spike worryingly.
There was still that same aura of wonderment about him now, as he looked upon Magnus as though he could barely believe that he had not changed. It never failed to amuse Magnus, when the shadowhunter looked at him that way, but he guessed that mortals could never really grasp the concept that some things never changed. Magnus had seen the same reflection of himself for centuries, to the extent that his own beauty no longer held any meaning. Willaim, however, grew and changed each time Magnus saw him; and he took great delight in noting the differences now. He was taller, by inches, and all the softness of his youth had vanished in the line of his shoulders and the curves of his face.
He was such a wonderful specimen, and Magnus wondered if it was his looks that stirred such an interest in Magnus. He had always guessed that one appreciated all change when they did not experience it themselves, but there was nothing average about the way William Herondale looked. Magnus had seen more faces in his lifetime than breaths William had taken, but his was a face that Magnus never forgot, nor did it ever lose its effect on him.
"Evening Mr Bane," William cleared his throat uncomfortably, clearly uneasy under Magnus' naked stare, "you may recall, my name is-"
"William Herondale, has it been years already?" Magnus interrupted, flashing Will his widest smile, and revelling in the further discomfort it caused him. The boy in the shadows that night at the Institute had never left Magnus' memory, partly for his mysterious demeanour, but mostly because he had seemed like a child who did not want to be remembered. He had seemed like a little ghost as he'd lingered in the dark places outside, and Magnus had guessed that being remembered was not one of the things he was used to, at least not in any form that was flattering.
William had a reputation amongst downworlders as it was, the irfits having noted his constant purchase of the drug Yin Fen. They realised soon after his first purchase that the shadowhunter was not buying the drug for himself, but only Magnus knew who really needed it.
"Call me Will, if you care to remember me so ardently," Will returned haughtily, though there was a nervous undertone to his words now. It was as though his anger had dissipated in Magnus' presence, as his gaze seemed to strip from Will his gaudy defences. Will probably thought Magnus could see straight through them, but in truth Magnus had simply forgotten how to subdue the intensity of his stare in his old age.
"Very well, but in return you must call me Magnus, if you are so desperate to see me in the middle of a storm," Magnus smiled easily, admiring the way his every movement had such a visible effect on Will. He was so accustomed to Camille's ancient stillness, and Archer's cold disregard, that having another human being so vibrant and nervous like an ignited wick before him made him forget his weariness completely.
"Well then, Magnus, I would appreciate it if you would call your dog off its hunt," Will said, jerking rather violently, so that Archer was pulled forward as well, still attached to Will's coat.
"Archer, you may let go of my guest now," Magnus instructed the footman absently. Archer shot him the darkest stare from under his heavy brow, and released Will with a roughness that would have earned him severe punishment were Magnus under any false illusions that it would alter his behaviour. Archer was a subjugate, and as such his devotion to Camille took from his person all traces of rationality, as was required by his master. Another man might have been jealous of such devotion, but Magnus knew that with Archer it was involuntary, and the prospect of anything beyond his will terrified Magnus enough that he left it alone. Archer was incapable of learning, and Magnus was disinterested in teaching him.
"I was told not to let any guests through," Archer grumbled quietly, casting his eyes to the scarlet runner beneath his feet. Will's persistent dampness had turned the carpet a rather foreboding deep red, and Magnus wondered briefly what the stone would look like in such a colour. He had stared at the same walls for months without alteration, and the longer Camille stayed away the more desperately he wished to redecorate the house.
Camille had such meretricious taste, with a great emphasis on the colour red. Her entire house was framed in great slings of scarlet and black, leaving little opportunity for daylight to make its way through. Camille did not sleep during the day like other vampires, had lived long enough that she had overcome the habit, but it was not entirely significant when the manner always seemed to be in the dark.
"Then who is at fault here, really? I don't think it's Mr. Herondale," Magnus scolded and, catching the rebellious glint in Archer's eyes, continued before he had a chance to speak, "That will be all, Archer."
It seemed for a moment as though Magnus was going to receive argument, but Archer thought better of himself and slunk from the room begrudgingly instead. Archer had challenged Magnus before, and though Archer had made it clear that he would tell Camille of all wrongdoings on Magnus' part regarding her estate, Magnus had made it even clearer that he could send Archer on that journey at any time he wished.
Will glanced after the butler for a moment, but turned back to Magnus hastily, with a new seriousness to his demeanour.
"I'm in need of your services," Will stated flatly, his eyes bright and unwavering. Magnus found that he couldn't think properly with such eyes on him, a fact that both baffled and concerned him.
"How forward, it is unfortunate then that I do not run errands," Magnus scoffed, turning away from Will to watch the fire, "As I told you last time, I do not care for consultations with the Nephilim."
"This is no errand, it is a business venture," Will insisted, stepping forward so that his dark shape lingered on the edges of Magnus' vision; very distracting.
"It is not a business venture unless agreed upon by both parties. Until that time, it is an errand." Magnus drew out, wanting to make Will squirm and get to the point.
"So then listen to me," Will snapped, but drew back a long breath to calm himself, "I have money,"
"Fascinating,"
Again Will tensed with anger, and it was all Magnus could do not to stare too longingly. It was such a treat, so see a youth commanded by his silly emotions, for Magnus had spent such a long time petrifying in this house of the dead. There was energy that radiated from Will, and Magnus could feel it on him like the warmth of the fire, flickering and unpredictable.
"I want to employ you to find something for me, something very important," Will continued, fists clenched.
Magnus laughed, making Will flinch back a few paces with its outburst, "So it is an errand then, my assistance is not cheap for such services," Magnus extended the world with extra emphasis, in such a heady tone that it made Will shiver slightly.
"If it is an errand, it is not an Earthly one," He said darkly, pushing the soaking hair from his face with his right hand. Magnus caught a glimpse of a swirling rune on the inside of Will's wrist, and had to remind himself what this boy was, and the danger it could grant him. He had caught Magnus' attention however, and in the way that Magnus rued most, with curiosity. Magnus' emotions had diluted with each year past, but there was one that had only grown with age; curiosity. He guessed that his shrinking sense of shame was to blame for such a thing, but nevertheless it was what drove his actions a great deal of the time.
"And what exactly is this token that you cannot fetch yourself?" Magnus inquired.
Will cast his gaze down for the first time that evening, and shuffled from one foot to the other repeatedly, dripping more dirty water onto the floor. He must have been freezing, and Magnus was sick with the irrational urge to offer him dry clothes. He convinced himself that it was due to the desire to see Will without clothes on, rather than the incomprehensible thought that he was sympathising with a trespassing shadowhunter.
"A demon," Will muttered with a very un- businesslike hesitance, still averting his eyes. Magnus was taken by surprise, this having been one of the last answers he'd expected. He had assumed that the boy was looking for another means of treating his Parabatai James, as that had been his intention last he'd called on Magnus. What use had a shadowhunter for a demon? Did he intend to conjure up the creature that had poisoned James? Magnus was a powerful warlock, but he could not be sure if he would be able to contain a greater demon in his exhausted state.
"There is no cure for James' illness in the demon world, if that is what you are searching for," Magnus beseeched him, turning to face him properly in his seat. Will's head snapped up at the mention of James, something profoundly painful crossing his face in the split second that he was not guarding it. Magnus found this intensely interesting, having made a fair few conclusions on the matter already. Will and James were clearly more than friends, so much was evident, but Magnus could only guess how far that relationship ran. He had heard that Parabatai were closer than brothers, but had never seen such a phenomenon in person before. The pain on Will's face had been literal, something so powerful that it had run down his entire body like a current.
How much of that emotion was from their bond as shadowhunters, and how much was borne of their relationship as lovers? Magnus felt the smallest twist of jealousy in his chest as he watched Will hurt for the boy he loved. Magnus guessed that Camille did not remember such a feeling, nor would she comprehend that she should feel it for him. There was a lot to be envied in young love, and Magnus feared that soon enough it would be as unfathomable to him as it was to Camille.
"I am not here for Jem," Will replied after a moment, his voice catching on the name, "I have my own affairs to sort."
"And what affairs are those? I rather thought shadowhunters liked to kill demons, not summon them." Magnus observed, noticing the way in which Will was shivering. He made a small motion with his fingers, so that the fire rekindled in the hearth. It cast new warmth about the room, but Will did not seem to notice.
"That isn't information I am able to disclose," Will explained, with a new firmness to his tone, "I will tell you all you need to know, nothing more."
"Then what do you suggest is in it for me?" Magnus demanded, caught on a huff of disbelief. He couldn't believe he was wasting his time, goading this boy when he really had no intention of helping him.
I should have sent him away immediately, Magnus thought bitterly, I have own damned curiosity to blame…
"I have a great deal of money," Will suggested, growing wary with Magnus' doubt.
"So you've said," Magnus sighed, abandoning the parchment in his hands to the cabinet beside his chair with the finality that he would not pick it up again that evening, "and as an immortal warlock, you can imagine just how interested I am in money."
Will's face fell at that, and he seemed for a moment at loss for words. The pretence of confidence had dropped, Magnus realised, and all that was left seemed to be a smattering of hope, and a great deal of desperation. He felt his chest grow cold as he watched Will falter, and assured himself that, were Will not so handsome, his sympathies would be nary.
"I'll pay you anything, name your price," Will pushed relentlessly, opening his palms wide in a surprisingly vulnerable gesture, "I'll give you anything."
Such an offer from a beautiful man should have had Magnus reeling with excitement and opportunity, but for some unholy reason all Magnus felt was sympathy. Will's words were so sincere, and Magnus guessed that if he asked for the moon, Will would string it in pieces about Magnus' chandelier in return for his services. With that knowledge, Magnus let a great breath leave him, and the question was let from his lips before he could think better of himself.
"What sort of demon is it?"
Will's very posture sprang up at Magnus' words, and the smallest smile spread across his lips before he answered, "I'm not sure, I think it was blue."
Magnus frowned, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
"What is the demon's name?"
Will's expression darkened, "I don't know."
"Was it a greater demon or a minor one?"
"I don't know,"
"How old was it?"
"I don't know,"
"What did it look like?"
"I… Don't know,"
Magus broke off from questioning, fixing Will with a most unimpressed glare. Will met it with apologetic eyes, and for some reason that made Magnus angrier. Was this a great joke? Magnus was tired, and had allowed this maddening boy to mutter garbage and drip water on his rug for far too long.
"So, let me summarise the information you've given me. You want me to summon a demon, for reasons that you will not share, and you do not remember a damned thing about said demon, excepting the fact that it is blue?" Magnus said very quietly, making Will visibly nervous.
"I realise how ridiculous it sounds, I do; but I'm imploring you to reconsider," Will said, pressing forward slightly, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes,"
"That may be the case, but I am not, and I think it is time that you were escorted out," Magnus concluded, rising from his seat so that he stood tall over Will, in order to make the suggestion a command. He was startled to find that Will was not much shorter than him at all, but supressed such an emotion so that none of it reached his face. Will's eyes became large and pleading, as he held his ground in Magnus' shadow.
"Please, give it a chance, I'll pay any price you waver-"
"I don't want your blasted money, stupid Nephilim!" Magnus snapped, making Will jump with the severity of it. He regretted his anger instantly, but tried not to show it as he herded Will out the door hastily.
"Please, give me a chance to- I'll do anything-" Will was cut off as Magnus gave him an encouraging shove toward the door, and was about turn away when Will ejected loudly, "Magnus, please!"
Magnus stopped, just as all the fight drained out of Will and he was left wilted, and completely exposed in front of Magnus.
"I'm asking you Magnus- no, I'm begging you," Will said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Magnus, please."
Magnus thought it rather manipulative, considering his name had been spoken with such ardent longing, but he knew now that Will was beyond options, and Magnus was his last hope. He was so young, and so desperate before Magnus, those beautiful eyes shining with every ounce of brokenness that lied beneath. Magnus wondered if he had ever displayed such a face to James, but some instinct told him that he hadn't. Magnus almost preferred Will this way, and by some perspectives he was more beautiful in wanting; but Will was not there to be admired, or handled, or tolerated. Will needed help, and Magnus was the only one who could do so.
Magnus stepped forward, so that he and Will were feet apart, and levelled a very loaded stare on him, "Tell me why,"
Will winced, his shoulders dropping, "Magnus, I can't-"
"Tell me why." Magnus repeated, this time forcefully.
For a moment, Will glanced toward the door and Magnus thought that he might leave. After a moment of silence, his gaze returned to Magnus, and his answer came on the smallest of breaths, "Because there is someone who wants me to move on, and this is the only way that I can fulfil such a wish."
Magnus watched him intently, his eyes narrowing at the strange explanation, "do you want to move on?"
Will had not expected such a question, and confliction soured his expression severely. He looked up at Magnus slowly, and Magnus could see the remnants of raindrops tangled in his long lashes. They cast gleaming shadows across his cheekbones, and Magnus had the most insane urge to draw this lovely, broken creature close and protect him from harm.
"I don't want to feel alone anymore," Will answered softly, his tone almost unsure, "I want to feel good again, like I did before."
Before what? Magnus didn't ask, something small inside him warning against such a question. There was a part of him, deep and forgotten in his chest that opened at Will's words, spilling a foreign tenderness through his veins that he hadn't felt in many years. He didn't have a name for it, but he knew what it would make him say before he said it.
"Do you realise just how many millions of demons there are in existence Will Herondale?" Magnus chided him, though he knew deep down that he was the one to blame, "I am going to turn you out of pocket before we're through."
Will's face sprang to life, and a brilliant grin stretched across his face. There was not even a shred of thought for resignation, and for some ungodly reason it made Magnus feel even more affectionate toward him. Will extended a shaking hand quickly, and with deliberate grace Magnus shook it, taking care not to brush his fingers against Will's angel marks.
"Thank you, Magnus, thank you," Will repeated again and again, seeming more like a child than a man.
"You won't thank me when I give you the list of ingredients that I need for even one summoning, it is a messy business." Magnus warned him, snapping his fingers and conjuring a slip of paper in his palm. Will's eyes widened with automatic unease, but there was less disapproval in the expression. He took the slip when it was offered, and agreed to retrieve a collection of unpleasant objects from the written address on the paper.
"If you are not here with those ingredients – still bleeding, mind you – at dusk three days from now, our contract will be terminated." Magnus grunted, already spiralling into self-loathing for his weakness.
Will promised that he would be on time, and wished him a polite good night when Magnus not so politely told him to get out. After he was gone, Magnus did not go to bed for hours, pondering both his own stupidity and the chaos of what was sure to come.
.
.
.
"Mr. Bane?" Charlotte directed sharply, and Magnus realised that she had been speaking for some time. He had been quite distracted by the nostalgia of the Institute's drawing room, having last been called into company here roughly five years prior. Charlotte seemed to be in want of instruction, but for the life of him Magnus could not remember what she had been talking about since he'd entered the place.
"What was the question again?" Magnus inquired, cupping his palm to the back of his ear, as though hundreds of years of immortality had dulled his hearing. Charlotte's mouth twisted a little at the mocking gesture, though her tone remained steady when she again offered him tea or sandwiches.
"Oh bless you, a pot of tea would be most appreciated," Magnus replied happily, striding across the room and sinking into the familiar chaise without the offer of his host. More lip twisting, and this time Magnus could have sworn that her fingers were itching to fist, but once again a small politeness ensued in Charlotte's tone as she asked him how he liked it.
"Black as ichor Charlotte, and do remember to add sugar this time," he smiled lazily, loving the way she stiffened when he used her first name. Despite his previous reluctance, he was quite enjoying his visit to the Nephilim institute so far, or rather, he was enjoying it now that he had discovered this new game of teasing.
"How much sugar?" Charlotte asked, her tone slow and measured , so that none of her irritation came past her posture.
"Much, can that be arranged?" Magnus replied sweetly, secretly admiring Charlotte's ability to swallow each and every slight he was providing her. It was not her choice, so much was true, but it was impressive nonetheless.
"Very well, I'll fetch it now," She said, turning brusquely and making her way from the room.
"I rather thought maids were useful for such tasks," Magnus observed, pretending to be very interested in the paisley pattern of the lounge.
Charlotte paused, but did not turn when she answered, in a tone that did not invite discussion, "Sophie is out today, so I will make it for you."
"Your maids go out?" Magnus called after her with wonder and disbelief, but received no reply as the lengths of Charlotte's skirt flickered around the corner and out of sight. Did all their staff make their own schedules in this place? Magnus wondered at the misplaced quaintness of the Nephilim, when it was contrasted with the overwhelming superiority of their actions. Magnus was not visiting by any will of his own, having been requested by Charlotte in such a way that had implied he would regret it if he did not accept. He knew why she had invited him, and was dreading the next hour more than he dreaded summoning a greater demon.
He knew that Charlotte had been voted to stay in her position at the institute very recently, had been told as much by Will in one of their many appointments, and guessed that this meeting would revolve very cleanly around Magnus' loyalty to this institute's staff. It seemed only appropriate that Charlotte would seek to renew any doubts or distance in her demonic connections, after her own position had been in great question, but Magnus had no stomach for such pandering. He was too old for this nonsense, and if Charlotte had known any better, she could have saved herself an hour of Magnus' trying company. Magnus was not loyal to anyone, and saw no merit in joining permanent bonds with mortals.
These bonds were indeed permanent to them, but for Magnus they simply entailed forty or fifty years of restriction to a certain part of society, before the mortal in question perished and the contract was severed. Agreements seemed so petty in the perspective of Magnus' lifespan, and the thought of a mortal commanding his life for any period of time seemed completely ridiculous.
That was why he had taken up residence at Woosley's after he and Camille ended things. True, he and Woosley were doing much more than merely sharing a house, but their relationship as lovers was very nearly as casual. Woosley did not ask where Magnus was going, nor what he was doing, and Magnus extended the same courtesy to him. It was not that Woosley did not want to ask, it was that he did not care, and such an attitude suited Magnus nicely. For a mortal being, Woosley had an immortal spirit, and after his devotion to Camille was so heartlessly cast away, Magnus was becoming more and more convinced that Woosley's way of living was better.
Undeniably, Magnus had longed at one stage to spend the rest of his life with someone, one person from whom he would never stray, but Camille had proven to him that eternity was far too long for monogamy. Magnus had always known that Camille's desires and feelings for him had faded over time, but had not guessed that she would simply desert him for another given her chance. Could he really blame her though? People were designed to love one another until the day they died; but what if that day never came? He had wondered, and was rather sure now, that solidarity in love was reserved for those whose time was limited, as it made love seem altogether beautiful and tragic. Without the stakes stacked against it, love really seemed to lose its appeal after hundreds of years, so Magnus shouldn't have been surprised by Camille's infidelity.
Despite it all, however, Magnus had been. He had been shattered and left bleeding by Camille's actions, almost as distraught as he had been when he'd fallen in love with her. It had been the same, falling in love, each and every time he'd felt it, and he had felt it a great many times. For all his supposed wisdom on the matter, he could not stop himself from falling again and again, loving silly mortals and wise immortals, both of which had always ended in heart break. Perhaps it was part of his punishment, that he withheld all the dramatics of human emotion, but was not permitted the sweet ignorance of time to revel in it properly.
There was the pattering of bare feet on the stone, and Will very suddenly entered the room, with his eyes trained on the corridor from whence he had come. He shut the drawing room doors hastily, and swung around so that his spine was pressed against them, and he was facing Magnus' quizzical stare. He should have guessed that he might see Will during his visit that afternoon, but the sight of him outside of Woosley's sitting room still caught him breathless for a moment. Will had his eyes screwed tight in what looked like a mixture of weariness and pain, but when he opened them and noticed Magnus stretched out on the chaise contentedly the emotion was wiped from his face and replaced with shock.
They met eyes for a long moment, and Magnus thought it ridiculous that it was such an event for the both of them. They had spent a great deal of time together, so much so that Magnus had grown tired of seeing his face. Will had shared things with Magnus that he hadn't shared with anyone else, and Magnus had watched as his entire life had unravelled before him, and left the poor boy crumpled on Woosley's carpet.
Even so, Will stared at Magnus as though he had just proposed marriage, and seemed quite unable to stop staring. Magnus guessed that Will's time with him and the institute were two very separate things in Will's mind, and the sight of them both intermingling must have sent him for a turn. Magnus opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn't sure what; but Will turned on his heels, cast the doors back open, and rushed out again without a single word having been spoken.
Magnus shouldn't have taken offense to such a reaction, but longed for the boy to come back, as he was the only part of this community that Magnus did not dislike. It was only moments later, as Magnus was leaning closer to the dying fire for warmth, that the sound of approach came again, and Magnus thought for a moment that Will had returned. A light figure rounded into the room however, one that Magnus had not seen before, though he knew who it was without needing any introduction.
The boy stood as tall as Will, but not quite as muscled as he was. His hair and eyes had the tell-tale silver sheen to them that Magnus had seen many times before, though on him they had a rather aesthetic effect. He was foreign, much in the same way Magnus was, though he most certainly did not look like he was from the Dutch East Indies. He recalled that he was from the Shanghai institute, and his appearance aligned with that information neatly. He had soft, pale features that were framed by elegant cheekbones. His eyes slanted at their edge into a beautiful peak, one that made the astounding shine of his eyes less startling. Magnus had imagined James many different ways from Charlotte's explanation, but this was not what he had been expecting.
James stopped short when he noticed Magnus, a slight blush colouring his cheeks at the notion of entering so hastily into a room with guests present. He straightened quickly, an entirely pleasant smile stretching across his face.
"Good afternoon Mr Bane, I don't believe we've met, but I'm-"
"James," Magnus cut him off, extending a hand cordially, "I've heard much about you."
James seemed unsettled by the thought, but did not hesitate in shaking Magnus' hand, and he did so without a single shred of distaste or reluctance, as Magnus was accustomed to with shadowhunters.
"Call me Jem," he requested politely, "you have done me many great services over these past few years."
Jem. So Jem knew that Magnus had been the one to first provide him with the Yin Fen. He wondered for a moment if Jem resented him for it, and was using the comment as subtle aggression toward him. Jem's expression was sincere however, and Magnus could not see a shred of malice beneath it.
"I hardly had any choice in the matter, given the determination of those who care for you," Magnus replied, dropping his hand quickly and making space between them in the room. Jem's smile turned slightly sad, but he did not falter in his stature.
"Indeed. Speaking of such company, have you seen Will by any chance? I've been looking for him all day." Jem asked, and a small sigh left him at the notion of his Parabatai, sounding rather defeated.
"I've not, but if you can't find him, do you think that perhaps he does not want to be found?" Magnus proposed lightly, gathering himself close to the fire in the hope that it had some strength left.
Truly, Magnus thought with ire as he rubbed his palms together, if their maid keeps going out, they'll all freeze to death…
"Will has been avoiding me for months," Jem admitted tiredly, running his fingers through his hair once, "it seems that he never does want to be found."
"Maybe it is just his bad nature, rather than anything you've done," Magnus offered absently, though he wondered at the amount of information this boy gave freely. Was he testing Magnus, or building up to something larger? No, Magnus knew trickery when he saw it, and Jem's face did not hint of such malice.
In fact, Jem was rather one of the most open people he'd ever observed. As he stepped forward, Magnus admired the fact that, despite the chaos that surrounded his life, Jem himself exuded a calmness that seemed to radiate to those around him. He was quiet, polite and unassuming, and Magnus could hardly believe that so many people's lives revolved around something so gentle.
"No, I'm afraid that I've given Will plenty of reason to avoid me lately," Jem countered darkly, "but I'd rather hoped that we could sort it out."
"Give him time, Will is not altogether unreasonable, despite being a little dramatic," Magnus assured him, granting himself a puzzled look from Jem.
Through with being so cold, Magnus snapped his fingers and watched as the fire once again burst to life in the hearth, and it sent out new warmth to them both. Jem jumped from the shock of the action, and his eyes flew wide with wonder.
"Is that all it takes, the snap of your fingers?" He asked in disbelief.
"Yes, that and practice. It must disgust you," Magnus accused listlessly, bundling himself into the fire's glow and choosing not to look at Jem, though he could feel Jem's eyes on him still.
"Magic saved Will's life once," Jem said very seriously, making Magnus turn in surprise, "I do not scorn such a thing."
Magnus was taken aback by the sincerity of such a declaration, and wondered if Jem would still like Magnus' magic, if he knew that at that moment Magnus made a subtle gesture that locked the kitchen door across the institute. He was curious now, and did not wish to be interrupted by Charlotte any time soon, and so left something to occupy her while he considered the strange boy before him.
After a moment, Jem's face fell, and he cast his gaze down for the first time since he entered the room, "I'm not what you were expecting, am I?"
Magnus took a moment to comprehend what he was being asked, but felt there was no merit in lying, "No."
Jem nodded, his lips tightening into a clean line, having expected such a reply. He glanced up soon after, rather shyly, and when he next spoke there was new hesitance to his voice, "May I ask what you had expected, when you heard of me?"
"Nothing really, but more than five years addicted to Yin Fen does not usually heed such… healthy results." Magnus explained, though he did not include the fact that he had never met any other person who had lived with addiction for that long, because they had already been dead.
"I take the drug only when I must, and have trained myself to go many days without it," Jem enlightened him, though Magnus could tell that they had finally reached a topic of conversation that Jem did not enjoy. Jem spoke to Magnus as a patient might their physician during a long needed check-up, and though Magnus had no intention of allowing such a dynamic to occur, his curiosity made him continue.
"You do know that it doesn't prevent the end result, no matter how scarcely you take it," Magnus told him, and it came across as a much harsher comment then he had intended it to be. Jem did not anger at his words, though his shoulders did seem to drop a little in deflation.
"I have not forgotten, and there is enough to remind me if I do," Jem murmured, averting his gaze to the fire weakly. The flames cast flickering shadows across the panes of his face, and Magnus was irrationally worried that they would shatter him. So he knew, as well as Magnus did, that he could not have much time left. The drug was designed to kill within months, years if the user was careful. To have lived until now, Magnus wondered how long Jem could avoid the final result, but he did not like the boys chances.
It was macabrely fascinating for Magnus, to see a young man so like him teeter on the edge of his death. Death was in part novelty for Magnus, and in part devastating. He was a constant in a world of deteriorating things, yet he could barely comprehend that something as sweet and gentle as this boy could disappear at a moments notice.
"Can you… Feel it?" Magnus asked, unable to believe his own audacity, "Feel it coming, I mean."
Jem's eyes narrowed, and Magnus cursed his own curiosity in every iota of his being, and the hold it had over him.
"No one has ever asked me that before," Jem said, though it was filled more with wonder than anything else, "sometimes I think I can, but I haven't much of an idea of what it's supposed to feel like. There aren't many who can tell me."
Magnus nodded silently, shuffling in his place in order to shift the guilt of his curiosity into a less painful position. Jem hesitated, but he had curiosities of his own.
"Can I ask you how it feels for you, to know that you have all the time in the world?" He flushed a little more, though it did not seem to be from embarrassment. In truth, Magnus did not know how to answer, as he had nothing to compare it to, but didn't want to leave Jem empty when Magnus had been given an answer.
"How do you think it feels?" He proposed, already wary of what he thought. Jem thought about his words for a moment, the strangest sadness crossing his face when he looked at Magnus.
"I try to think of my life as a tunnel, whenever the old fears come back to me," Jem began, his voice unsure and stance awkward, "I imagine that we stumble about in the dark for the majority of it, but see the light eventually that guides us through the best part of our lives,"
He glanced up at Magnus warily, as though afraid that he might offend him, "when I think of immortality, I think that the tunnel is never ending, and that there is only darkness."
"So you think that my life has no meaning?" Magnus assumed, his tone strained at the metaphor, which had effected him so that he felt very suddenly cold again, right down to his core.
"Not at all," Jem added quickly, casting his hands out in apology, "I simply meant that I would feel… awfully lost, if it was me."
Magnus was not comforted by such a concept, and was fast thinking that he had made a mistake, talking with this strange boy. That was all he was, after all, just a dying boy whose life would equate to a moment in Magnus'. So why was it, when Jem looked his way, did Magnus feel like Jem was the wise one and he was the little confused child? Did he make Will feel this way? Was that why Will was so taken with him? Magnus had never felt this way before, but knew very assuredly that he did not like it. He saw so much similarity between the two of them; they came from another world, both outsiders in their communities and cursed with time. Jem had barely any left, and Magnus was damned to have all of it until there was no world left to experience it in.
They were the same and opposites, and Magnus could barely stand it for that fact.
"What about you, you've barely any time left," Magnus accused him, pain making him sharp, "how does any metaphor comfort you?"
Jem smiled, something that Magnus had not expected, and without the smallest amount of resentment. It was not even directed at Magnus, the expression, it seemed to pass straight through his body to some unseen conclusion.
"It isn't much comfort," Jem confessed quietly, "but when there's always light showing at the end of the tunnel, there's hope that it might guide the way, so that less time is spent in stumbling."
"You'll still get there faster," Magnus felt idiotic pointing it out, but couldn't help himself, needing to understand what Jem truly meant.
He nodded calmly, but there was a clearness to his gaze now that had not been there before, "Yes, but perhaps the way there can be better spent, so that no moment is wasted."
They shared a silence, in which Magnus reeled and Jem stared, until the sound of a door closing somewhere in the distance brought them both crashing back to reality, bursting the sphere of tension they had created without realising it. Jem cleared his throat awkwardly, and Magnus straightened his coat where it didn't need straightening. It was Jem who broke the silence.
"You saw Will, didn't you?" He stated, not allowing any room for Magnus to deny it.
Magnus inclined his head as confession, and offered Jem a genuine smile as apology, "Like I said, give him time, all is not lost."
Jem returned the smile, though there was a giddiness to it that made Magnus both uncomfortable and curious. His gaze dropped to his hands, and Magnus could see him fiddling with the ring on his middle finger, which had the etchings of castle turrets along its length.
"You're right," he said, seemingly to no one in particular, "there is still much left to hope for,"
Magnus hadn't the foggiest idea what he was talking about, but more to the point he heard a clatter down the hall and guessed that Charlotte had finally broken out of her makeshift prison. Without delay, Magnus strode to the door, but threw one last address over his shoulder to the strange boy who had kept him company.
"Well this has been fascinating, but I really must go," Magnus hastened, raising a hand to stop Jem before he could speak, "do tell Charlotte that my loyalty is directionally proportionate to the amount of money that I am paid. You may need to do this after she is finished yelling."
He added the last in motion, and caught only a glimpse of Jem's confused face before he took the corner and was in the grand foyer. As he passed the staircase, Magnus spotted a well concealed figure in the shadows about the top of the steps, and he cast it a pointed wink as he exited the building.
Just as he stepped into the cold air of the street, Magnus could have sworn that he'd heard the hidden figure gasp, and it cheered him greatly all the way home. Jem's words had lingered with him however; Magnus knew that, however happy this fleeting moment made him, that later that night such a memory would visit him again in the small hours, and chase away sleep as these things often did.
.
.
.
For someone who claims not to care about shadowhunter business, Magnus wondered bleakly, as the world flashed by his carriage window, I'll sure remember a great deal about them, long after they're gone…
And so on.
More coming soon, so stay tuned friends.
While you're waiting, go ahead and drop me a review will you? I'd just love to hear from you because it's been a while and I'm getting worried.. Are you eating alright? How's the family? Did you get that sweater you were looking at? Has your cat still got that rash?
I want to know.
Sorry for any typos, I've run out of typo metaphors, so you think of one this month and send it to me, and I'll use it in my next chapter.
Beta'd by the lovely Tash
Chloe :)
