Chapter 37

The fighting in the Edinburgh Downworld had gone from skirmishes at the entrances, while Aidan Briosag and Vladimir Druganin negotiated for Aiden Lightwood-Bane to be given over to the Hellfire Club, to all-out fighting, street, by underground street. Anyone who really knew the High Warlock of Edinburgh, knew he would never sacrifice a child, an innocent, to the likes of the Hellfire Club. Negotiations had bought some time, nothing else. If Briosag thought about it, it wasn't that Druganin's words, encouraging him to consider the needs of the many, didn't resonate on some level; but the High Warlock was also a firm believer in the old adage, if you stand for nothing, you fall for anything, and some prices were just too high to pay.

It had taken the crucible of shadowhunter intolerance, and physical isolation to form the haven of the Edinburgh underground, where all manner of downworders formed a bond of solidarity unknown elsewhere. Vampire, werewolf, warlock and faerie lived in this unique place as friends and allies, and Aidan knew they would stand together to protect the half warlock, half shadowhunter child of Magnus Bane and Alexander Lightwood, not because he asked it of them, but because it was the right thing to do.

Aidan had just returned to his headquarters, a fortified building behind the last barricade at the heart of the underground. Taking this position would cost Druganin dearly, even if no help arrived to relieve the defenders. Exhaustion sat heavily in every line of Briosag's body. He was easily the most powerful warlock in the Edinburgh underground, and a s such used his power unstintingly to counteract Druganin's forces. It pained him to see the damage caused by the fighting as the Hellfire Club gradually pushed the defenders back. street, by hard-fought street. The shattered remains of buildings now blocked many of the narrow lanes, and were used by Briosag's men to ambush their attackers, who were not nearly as familiar with the terrain. Still, numbers and supplies were on the Hellfire Club's side, and all Aidan could do was fight and pray that help came before it was too late.

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Vladimir Druganin had superior forces, and access to supplies which meant that, if help did not arrive soon, Aidan Briosag would lose this fight. Time, however was not truly on the ancient vampire side either. The longer the battle raged, the more likely the Clave would notice something was amiss and investigate. He had just received word of the latest advances made by his troops, and the progress was painfully slow. Growling in frustration, he summoned Serpens.

He hated removing the warlock from the battle front, knowing that Serpens was the only warlock under his command capable of handling Briosag, but it was time to risk more drastic action, and for that he needed his old friend and Circuitor.

Dante Serpens strode into the room, anxious to know what had occasioned this abrupt summons.

"Dante!" Druganin barked; "I have seen the latest reports, the battle is taking too long, the time has come to summon the demonic assistance we spoke of."

"Very well;" Serpens responded. "I will call Belial, he is familiar with the Hellfire Club, and no doubt will enjoy revenging himself on Briosag for sending him back to Edon the last time."

"You are comfortable that you can control him?" Druganin asked. He had been aware of the greater demon's participation in the Hellfire Club under McKenzie, but had not particularly liked the fact. Lesser demons, who could cater to the depraved tastes of some of the club members, was as far as the vampire had been willing to go when he was first Abbot. Gerard McKenzie, however, had the breathtaking arrogance that often characterized powerful shadowhunters, and believed himself capable of managing a greater demon.

"Yes, old friend. I summoned Belial for McKenzie, I have studied his power, his nature. I can ensure the demon does what we require, and then I will return him to Edom. I know you have no desire to allow a greater demon a more permanent role in the Hellfire Club;" Serpens said, his voice low, earnest; "That foolishness died with McKenzie."

Druganin nodded, satisfied that Serpens understood the parameters around which this summoning would be done. He was confident that the chance to revenge himself against Briosag would be enough to tempt Belial to assist them. Enough in fact to lure the greater demon without any need for further promises; promises that might prevent Belial's precipitous return to the demon dimension. Druganin had no intentions of allowing his dangerous ally to remain any longer than absolutely necessary.

Dante Serpens made his preparations under the watchful eyes of the Abbot, a man he had served for centuries. The summoning itself would be no problem, it was ensuring that Belial could be contained, commanded, that was the tricky part. Still, Serpens was a powerful and experienced warlock, and soon the silence of the room was broken by soft muttering. Harsh, guttural words flowed from the warlock's mouth and wisps of black, sulphurous smoke began to swirl and coalesce in the center of the pentagram.

As the warlock's words died away, a tall, powerfully built man appeared. The skin on his hands and face was dark, almost black, but his eyes blazed with demonic power. One large, claw-tipped hand pushed back the hood of the blood red robe that covered his enormous body, and revealed the thin, articulated spiders legs that sprouted from his head, and seemed to serve him instead of hair.

"Who has dared to summon Belial?" The demon roared breaking the tense silence of that awful room...

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Magnus sat quietly in his tiny cell where he had been returned, pending the outcome of the Judges' deliberations. It had been so long since he'd last seen is beloved Alec, and the loss felt like the ache of a severe wound that would not heal. He thought about his long, eventful life and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the best part of it had been the brief few years he'd had Alexander Gideon Lightwood in it.

Though he didn't like to dwell on it, Magnus realized that a guilty verdict would mean the swift carrying out of his sentence, there was no appeal from the Court of Assize. He also knew was it was unlikely that he'd be allowed to see Alec before his execution.

To distract himself from such grim thoughts, he read and re-read all Alec's letters. Beacons of hope in this grim place.

At times the warlock's mind also drifted to little Aiden, and he wondered what the boy's life would be like if Magnus was found guilty. The warlock knew his friends would do whatever they could to protect Aiden and keep him safe, but what kind of life would it be to always have to hide, to know that there were powerful people in the world who would kill you, if they found you?

And what of the price that Alec would pay, stripped of his marks and exiled from his home and family. Magnus had once had the misfortune to hear the anguished screams of a shadowhunter being stripped of his marks. It had left a lasting impression, an indelible mark on his soul.

The days seemed to run into each other as Magnus waited for news of his fate. Numerous times he picked up his pen to write a final letter to Alec, but words failed him. What could he possibly say to ease his husband's pain? Even the act of putting pen to paper seemed like giving up, accepting that he was doomed to follow in the footsteps of all those other witches executed in the name of irrational fear and prejudice.

At last he heard footsteps and the sound of his cell door being opened. The guard, Jesse Bradshaw greeted Magnus with a nod. They had become friendly over the course of Magnus' incarceration.

"The Judges have finished their deliberations, Magnus;" Bradshaw said; "I'm to take you up to the courtroom."

Magnus made no comment, just rose to follow the guard out of the cell.

"In case I don't get to say this later, Magnus, I just want you to know I hope things go your way today." Bradshaw spoke quietly as he led the way into the hallway where two other guards waited to escort Magnus to the Court...